#at first i thought that maybe they decided to set the second game after the events of the mizuki route? i guess not though | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kooyabooya · 5 months ago

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OMISSION

m reader x julie // 21k words

There’s always going to be that one occurrence in your lifetime. Where, even when all possibilities of it happening just doesn’t seem to line up, still does.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Doomed to regret, or relieved of the fact that you’re given a chance after waiting for who really knows how long, it all arrives in the same fashion. You’re pretty certain that things like these transpire for a reason; and sometimes, the best part about this mystery is what’s to come after.

Truth be told, it’s an unexplainable miracle how Julie still remembers you after all these years.

Okay, that statement itself might be an over exaggeration, and it’s been roughly about five years? Maybe seven? Shit, it might be even eight or more. The game of life doesn’t have time for someone like you to stand idly, dozing off and unbothered like that’s how you want things to be.

Nonetheless, you analogized this to your circle of friends about how you and Julie are like parallel lines: destined to be side by side, never to cross each other's paths to meet in the middle. You’ve convinced yourself long ago there would never be any form of instance crossing past that line of being in love with her, ever. Despite what everyone says otherwise, the teasing never stopped; a recurrence every once in a while with your high school friends (and hey, it’s not your fault that you tense up at the bare mention of her name or see a picture of you and her together from when you were kids and not have a crossing thought of what could’ve been). She’s been the one person who was always there for you, until eventually going away and out of your life before you could even understand what any of that meant in the first place.

It doesn’t matter if it’s the first time you’ve set eyes on her or the last, because a part of you seems to stop in their tracks whenever she’s within line of eyesight.

–

Midday, at the peak of rush hour traffic around the airport, there’s a scramble of newcomers and departing travelers through the doors of the terminal. The sporadic influx of people with one or two hand carries, and various cart goers with enough baggage to stay in the country for more than a projected month.

You pull the corner of your lip when you see a familiar shade of bright ash colored hair, retro shades shielding her face from anyone that might notice at a glance. Her luggage was surprisingly less than what you have expected: a bulky backpack that’s roughly the size of her entire midsection (she could go hiking or backpacking for all you know) and a large suitcase with a duffel bag stacked on top of it.

Julie being Julie, she decided to go the comfort route of her outfit rather than the haute couture style that she always plasters her social media profile with which was a nice change to see considering the amount of sponsors she has at her age. She scans the line of cars with the hazard lights on along the lane, immediately bee-lining for yours while you’re leaning against the side with the engine still running and not with the hazard lights on, just to make it easier for her to spot you.

When she finally stops her footing a few inches before the curb, she lets out this sigh when the handle of her suitcase clicks back in, plopping the duffel bag onto the ground as if she’s making her presence known, you take a quick look around ensuring that she wasn’t trying to make a scene. “Hey,” she calls over. There’s no second thought; you could be fifty feet away and still spot her.

Julie runs a hand through her hair, chin tilted up slightly when you get onto the sidewalk from the street, signifying the clear difference in height. She’s at your neck, and you’re glad that she stayed around there - you know, just to annoy her.

Coming off ever-so casually, “Hey.”

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

You lift your eyebrows with one at the highest point you could take on your forehead. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you tell me?”

A shake of the head, you’re giddy in an instant second.

“Seriously?” She starts, pulling out her set of earbuds and her glasses simultaneously, raising an eyebrow before squinting her eyes closely to your face, and all you’re doing is just letting your head fall a few degrees left to keep her second guessing. “There is no way they let you be my personal chauffeur for today.”

“Well, about that.” you scoff, stepping on the concrete away from the asphalt while also fishing out a folded twenty dollar bill from your pocket. “I was doing some errands for my parents before I got hit with the last minute memo to pick up some girl that’s been too busy with stardom.”

“What’s the adult dollar for?” Julie asks, fighting the smile terribly while you’re matching the same energy. “Are you tipping for yourself?”

A pause forms between the two of you, staring, reading into each other’s expressions. The white noise of cars coming occasionally broken with scattered honks across the place. You kinda look stupid with the twenty dollars in between your fingers, but Julie breaks first by looking down, you’re rolling eyes at how simple it’s been after all this time - easing into her, and she does the same.

She steps forward with swinging arms, capturing you in between them. Julie was always the outgoing one with affection. Growing up, you kinda got sick of her being up all in your space. Now, you’ve come the long way ‘round; her hand lightly grips the back of your neck, you’re shaking her side by side with your arms around her waist, suddenly she’s got a hand to your cheek before she pinches it just to annoy you. One thing for sure: you enjoy the small bubble entrapping you with her, not giving a care for what’s going outside of it.

“Oh my god?” you tell her breathlessly, half drunk on the sweet scent of her hair, pushing her back slightly to get a second look at her, trying to process how much she’s grown. “You- your hair….”

“I know right?” she acknowledges, tilting her head off to the right while hiding away. “Didn’t think that orange would be my color in the first place and now, I own it.”

She looks good, and somehow she’s still the same Julie you remember spending a good chunk of your entire childhood with to know that unchanging fact.

“Long flight?” you ask her, hands on her shoulders with a quick massage. “You know what they say about airport crushes; see them once, and they’re gone the next moment for forever.”

“No one has ever said that.” Julie laughs, flipping some of her hair over the shoulder, her lone hand lightly underneath your forearm, not letting the faintest clutch of your sweater get to you because it will, and it seems that the personal point still stands, but you remember the conversation with her regarding that all those years ago - unsure if the sting is still present or not, you’ll have to ponder sometime later. “Always the one to say complete nonsense to me and expect to understand it,” she closes the distance with you again, a slightly more prolonged hug, relaxing into your embrace again with a sleepy sigh, “But yes, I’m still tired.”

“So much for getting lunch.”

“Oh, we can still get lunch, if you’re paying of course.” She says, pressing both of her index fingers together innocently, dodging your eyes on purpose before you realize what she’s actually doing.

“Typical of you, Julie.”

“What? I’m not doing anything.” She replies, shaking her head. Your peripheral view catches a person wearing a neon yellow vest approaching you two, probably coming over to issue a warning that you’re picking up and not parking. Looking in the same direction, she too, takes the hint, realizing that you’re in a slight time crunch and the reunion can take place somewhere else. “Besides, I was always the one to get you lunch after school when you said that you weren’t hungry.”

“I could just take you straight home,” you say, popping the trunk to put all of her belongings in the back.

“Don’t! I’m kidding, obviously.”

That’s your Julie.

“Unless you don’t let me pick the place to grab something, then I guess you could take me home then, if it isn’t that much work for you.” She remarks while you’re rounding the car from behind, slotting in the gap to open the door for her before she swaps places with you on the outside and her on the opposite side.

Regardless of the absence, she’s hit it off with you again like nothing had ever happened, the habits of goodwill when you’re shielding her head from the roof of the door frame and shutting it when she finally sits in.

It’s like a rerun of old memories coming back. When the whirr of the engine springs to life from the ignition, paired with the dragged out sigh of Julie settling into the passenger seat of your car, leaning the seat all the way back with her feet on the dashboard. She’s also surprised that you kept a few trinkets that she put in the interior, but the main takeaway was the polaroid on the left side of the speedometer. The image wasn’t that big of a deal if you’re looking at the date scribbled with a sharpie, but it’s her lips pressed against your face on the last night before she went away to pursue her own endeavors. As for the gesture itself, Julie laughs it off since the main reason was because she had one too many drinks - which was understandable, to say the least.

(Well, friends have their own ways of showing off their love from a platonic standpoint, so this was just one of those instances; nothing more.)

You and her just talk for what seems like ages, forget with the notion of playing catch-up. She’s only been here for probably less than an hour and half at this point, and you could care less with the traffic on the way to the niche coffee spot where you and Julie have always gone to after school days and study sessions.

She points out to you that everything is pretty much the same since she left it - like she runs the place - and in a way, it felt like that to you for a while. It’s all in the scattered corner stores, the park with those two stationary bikes that she’d ride just because she’s bored, that one avenue of houses that you and her talked about owning one day if the lottery was won between the two of you. All of these things start coming back to you like stills from an old film camera.

“I helped get the house redone with flooring and everything,” you tell her, flicking the blinker up and looping right into the parking lot of the cafe. “Figured that it was time to change some things up around there for once.”

Right when you set the car to park, clicking off the seatbelt and she too does the same; you glance over to the passenger seat while grabbing for your wallet and keys, seeing Julie on her side, head propped up to her hand, a leg tucked to her chest before she nods her head down to let the set of sunglasses fall weirdly on the bridge of her nose, fixing it soon after while softly smiling back. “Anything else that I missed out on that I haven’t heard from the others?”

You look up, pursing your lips together with a hum, trying to give somewhat of a legitimate answer, “Perhaps one thing: me.”

Julie stares at you unimpressed, slightly cringing at what was just said while you’re wearing a dumb grin spread across your face. Her chin dips diagonally, insisting silently that you give her a valid explanation, but you don’t. She knows your fair share of flings and failed talking stages, and she’s not far off the cut too; coming to you for advice about how guys operate because you understood well that some of them only think with their fucking crotch and not their brain most of the time.

She sighs, this time with a light smirk in acceptance. “Fine, I’ll take that to be an acceptable answer.”

Phone and wallet in one hand, the other opening the door, a turn of the head shields you biting your inner lip, mind slowly falling into the delusional thought of filling the gap in your amygdala of what should’ve been done in the first place.

Maybe if you had the chance to go back in a time machine to alter the causes, the outcomes might’ve been in a much different space entirely.

–

Though, it’s worth mentioning that you and Julie have never actually tried dating each other up until she left during junior year. The idea itself wasn’t necessarily tempting, but the lone strings in your heart decided at best that it wouldn’t escalate anything higher than what you already had with her.

–

Sure.

Everything comes natural when it’s with Julie. Out of everyone in your small circle of friends, it was you and her that have been tethered together since you two were basically in diapers. She was born a few days before you; in the same hospital, on the same floor. Your mothers already had a tight-knit connection even prior to you and her even stepping in the picture of their lives. Then there’s the special aspect of being a pair since preschool; nearly all the moments were either you and her not too apart from the other.

You poke a straw through her latte before handing it to her first, only to take the same drink and bring it back around for you to have to take the additional one you bought instead. Everything starts to settle like old times. She’s telling you stories about what she’s doing with her career; nothing short of traveling around the world, giving you the most colorful way of what occurred even if it was the most simplest of things. The brand deals, the collaborations, how she loves what she’s doing. You couldn’t be more proud of her for taking her life by the reins because you and her both agreed that staying here in this town would only hold her back to what she really wants.

“So,” she starts, placing her phone down after showing her pictures of her recent outing somewhere in Poland. “Remind me what you’re doing again?”

She’s sitting across from you on the table, leg over the other, hands linked at the knee. Her drink is almost finished, there’s a half eaten croissant while you’re playing back all of the things that might be worth noting. You look up to see that subtle smirk, a hint of her dimples that you’ve probably fantasized about kissing because they’re just there, her pretty cat-like eyes, low and heavy, and her hair just looks amazing to see since the papaya color really suits her well.

“Well, it’s nothing really worth sharing,” you say, grabbing another sip through the opening of your drink, “This job I got starts in a few weeks, and oh- grad school’s finally done and over with.” Julie nods in excitement, clapping quietly with her fingers while you’re waving a hand up to save the embarrassment. You show her the grad photos and ceremony, and tells you looked good, apologizing for not showing up earlier to be that for your massive accomplishment.

“Anything else that you’re doing to pass time?” she asks, stealing your drink since she finished hers.

“I write a little here and there. No big deal.”

“You do?”

You shrug, “Kinda, sort of struggling with this one story or idea that’s been rattling my brain for the past couple days now.”

Julie does the similar action like she did earlier while getting out of the car; that slight lean back with narrow eyes to subject something suspicious. “Is it the kind of writing that I think it is?”

“Jul, it’s just poems.” you tell her, adjusting your chair closer while she spills a mess of giggles while you snatch back your drink for another sip to keep yourself distracted. “You know that I get lost with reading. It was just that one time that you caught me red-handed.”

“You’re not at fault for hooking me onto that kind of stuff too.” she replies, fingers bridged together to support her chin with her elbows on the table, “I will say, the mind can create the wildest imaginations.”

“Have you noticed what you’re doing with those outfits and dances?”

“Hey, I read those comments every now and then.” Julie takes back your drink to finally finish it, placing the cup off to the side with the half-eaten croissant to open up the table for conversation. “It’s just one way of staying engaged with fans without even interacting with them.”

That’s the kind of line you drew with Julie: being her supporter while she’s coming into her own. Making a name for herself through her own route of success to being famous, garnering attention by the minute with every post that she makes of herself or with others. You find yourself staring at pictures of her in outrageous outfits a little too long at times, watch the parts of her in videos on loop because she’s radiating with happiness, enjoying what she does. Her voice is distinct for you to pick out, and you’re wondering also: what did the world do to deserve an angel like her for just being the way she is?

She was a constant in your life, the couple of minutes you set aside in your schedule to see what she’s up to while in school or work - an out reaching thread you’ll dip down to see where she is or what she’s doing.

Can’t be mad at her for not keeping up with you after all this time anyway.

“Why did you bring me here?” Julie asks, her tone serious with hands now on her lap.

Instead of sugarcoating the inquiry, you’re mature enough to the point where some things are best given flat out the first try rather than scaffolding the truth bit by bit.

–

(It’s a flashpoint in the same spot years ago; the end of one thing, the start of another. Only main difference of this was the seating arrangement: you with your back against the fence and Julie on the opposite end with someone carrying a tray back inside the cafe.

The receipt was already on the table, empty orders of drinks just waiting to be discarded. It’s sundown, and the inside was already packed with various students cramming in bits and pieces of study guides for that history test they’re all convinced that they’ll fail. Not you, because you’re confident in your academic abilities so why lose sleep over it.

“I’m finally going forward with this.” Julie tells you, sitting idly while she just went you through the potential plan of her journey to success. Bottom line still stands: she’s going away, and the news still hits you like a deer caught in headlights. She nudges your shin that makes you snap out from your trance off into the distance, “Are you even listening?”

“I am- I was.” you answer, shaking your head while scratching, because you’re aware of the facts. Julie has been pushing to get herself off with her feet up in the sky, and managed to land a chance to finally make that silly dream of being famous into a reality. It’s been brewing behind the scenes, seeing her pace back and forth between phone calls while having a quick bite before dinner at her place. “So it’s really happening this time.”

“Yes.” She says, as if the news itself already didn’t tear an opening in your heart from the beginning. Any lingering feeling that was there for her was about to be ripped away from you in the next few days, and there’s not a lot of time left either; so why put in effort to even try and convince her when her mind is already made.

“Only a matter of time until you’re finally gone.”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“You know how I am with things like these.” you tell her, flatly. “The sentiment coming from me feels wrong, but it's your dream and I don’t want to jeopardize that.”

Julie’s expression softens, meeting your eyes. They’re filled with fading stars while hers are glassy, lip quivering while she reaches for your hand, thumb rubbing the ridges across the wrinkles of your knuckles - how the touch will be an unknown to her, inevitably.

“You’re not hurting me.” she says, smiling, confessing like it’ll give you some comfort to live with. “You never did.”

She knows your wavelength better than anyone else besides your parents. Nodding at her reassurance, you put away the one thing that you should’ve said in hiding, since it’s already too late. You don’t even know when she’ll be back let alone have the expectation for things to be the same later, because it won’t be.

It’s also impossible to satisfy the urge in telling her everything right here and now, put all of your thoughts and feelings on the table with no regrets; it’s there, but you’ve stomached the feeling deep down enough to keep it inside.)

–

“I mean, this is where we left things,” you tell her, bearing a smile, “why not start right where we left off?”

–

What’s talked about throughout years is all recapped in the matter of a few hours. You’ve gone around the town in different spots, talking about the notable events that occurred in each and every one of them. There’s a fill-in between different friends and shakeups of relationships and careers that has Julie in shock at the misdirection through the juicy details that never in a million years she would believe had happened. It’s still going, even when you drop by your home to see your parents and their adopted child (figuratively speaking) for a bit before carrying on with the drive to absolutely nowhere with the switch from your car to your mom’s SUV.

“What’s it about?” Julie asks while you stop at a red light. “Don’t tell me it’s a shitty sob story you’re struggling with.”

A press on the brakes, maybe a little too hard that slightly sends your body and hers jerking forward. And to that she punches your shoulder while you’re laughing. “For calling my story shitty.”

You’re reminded of her rudeness with words - letting out all the profane words that she’s been forced to bottle up for so long, letting it slip here and there for comedic relief. But with you, the rules never really applied to her, and you’ll do a limit test of crossing various things off the list, it’ll happen.

“Still haven’t answered my question.” she reminds you, a pinch to your arm also to let you know that she’s not playing around. You let her get her way, something that you’ve accepted a long time ago. Now with her newfound image, she’ll use that to her advantage that won’t definitely come back to bite her in the ass.

The glow from the excruciatingly long light catches Julie’s face from the corner of your eye. She raises a brow in suspicion when you look forward out into the open road, endless waves of darkness swallowing up the fading street in the distance. “It’s about past lives.”

“What.” she snorts, “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

(You wave your hand back at her while she giggles, and you say that maybe staying at your house was a better idea than going back into town.)

“This was exactly what I was talking about,” you tell her, glancing at her side profile, the canvas of her cheeks, her hair in a loose ponytail that she’s twiddling around between her fingers, eyes looking up to the sky above before looking back as an implication to continue. “I found inspiration about this one movie where two friends who’ve been forced apart from each other, only to find their way back in the most cliché way possible.”

“So original.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“Okay, yeah.” Julie lets out a bigger smile, the one where her eyes also mirror the same movement as her lips. “Give me a more indepth version of this when we get to our destination and I’ll reconsider your pitch.”

As soon as she says that, the light finally turns green, and you gradually press down on the gas pedal.

–

Here’s what the general consensus doesn't know about you and Julie; an omission of facts, one might say.

Only a few handful of people among your circle of friends would know of the situation where Julie had convinced you to pose as her fake boyfriend sometime around sophomore year. To be fair, the guy trying to court her during lunch was a bit of an ass when talking to her - being so stuck up and over his own head that made you want to punch the dude, so not even more than five seconds of their interaction was enough for you to shut any sort of speculation down entirely.

Everyone from the outside looking in would all share the same tune: there would be no way in hell that you’d get past the friends aspect with Julie.

(But it did happen; in that short time, and even if it wasn’t actually a real relationship with her- well, that didn’t really matter anyway.)

It’s all over your face. In pictures from different hangouts, videos in school projects, people calling out of you daydreaming during in between classes or breaks, getting in trouble for cutting class just to make sure everything was according to plan (and not because Julie forced you to ditch since you would say yes regardless). Most guys who were gunning to have their chance turned down by Julie would fall back entirely whenever they see you and her walking together - because they somewhat already knew of the endgame about to occur.

As for the memory itself, you faintly recall some sort of verbal agreement with her, things to sell the whole act from both parts: hand-holding, the mandatory dates, and all of the other stuff that was easy to fall into since you and her were so comfortable with each other already. The only issue, however, was the projected timetable of how long this fabricated ‘relationship’ was supposed to last.

“We have everything down,” she tells you, scruffing up the soles of her shoes along the sidewalk one day after a ‘much needed debriefing’ at the park. She’s pulling you by the sleeve - you know, for good practice. “I think we’ll be fine going forward.”

“You didn’t say how long we’re supposed to keep up this act for.” you say, opening the gate to her front yard and up the steps to the door. “The three month rule exists for a reason.”

“And you expect me to believe that?”

“It’s an unspoken requirement.” you reply flatly.

Julie bats her eyelids at that, getting on the first step of her porch to make herself taller to you, twists her body mirroring yours with hands on both sides of your collarbones. She lifts your face up, thumbs on your cheeks that could pose as teardrops because of how solemn your expression was, and she smirks at the appearance. “You’re nervous.”

“Nervous?” you ask, face slightly flushed and side-eying her fingers pinching your cheek. “I was just a little hesitant, that’s all.”

“What’s there to be afraid about?” she asks, stepping closer to the edge where it was natural for you to circle your arms around her waist. Deliberate, but every action with her was just right without having to question yourself if you’re doing what she wants you to do. “I helped you with all of the things that I wanted you to do with me in this relationship.”

You sigh, “Not all things.”

Julie looks at you puzzled, head cocked to the side at the unknown mentioned. Knowing her, she’s quick enough to realize what was being implied without having to say it explicitly. Few seconds pass, humming, trying to let those nerve synapses do their work before eventually realizing what was running through your mind. “Ah,” she says, nodding along to your level of thinking. “If you wanted me to say that, then you should’ve.”

“What were you thinking?”

“You’re a terrible kisser.”

“Do you really want me to answer that?” you tease, scanning Julie’s eyes, her pert smile, the subtle lip bite you catch at the last second before hiding the lower half of her face with the oversized sleeve of the sweater.

It was the last thing that was necessary to do. You’re thinking of the test drive of that from the other day, how you just gave a weak peck of a kiss only to poorly play it off as being ‘not ready’. Julie assures you that it was okay, and you tried it again.

(The second time was a lot better. And, uh, it still needs more, hm-)

“If we really want to make this work,” you tell Julie, fingers clasped together behind the small of her back, gravitating her closer to your chest. Her hands are slithering around the back of your head and neck, “Best to have it done properly. No mistakes.”

Julie nods in agreement, reminded that she was the one who roped you in to do all of this for her. This facade could have some sort of meaning when it’s over, but for the moment you could see on her face that she was relieved. “Right, if you want the part, you have to own it.”

Her head dips down to yours, sealing the deal with a kiss, smiling at the improvement when you return it fantastically well. She pulls away with half-lidded eyes, and maybe this lip lock was the first of many, time can only share so much.

“Alright then,” she whispers against your lips, brushing against yours delicately, “that was a whole lot better.”

–

Aside from selling the act from nearly all of your friends, you kept it to yourself that this ‘relationship’ with Julie should’ve been real from the start. Though, you can’t even blame yourself for the idiot you’d become whenever Julie’s steamrolling into your personal space in between classes. If anything, even if they knew the thing was real or fake, they all took the hint of backing off to give you two the respected space whether it was intended to be actually authentic or not.

Even if you wanted to be discreet - which, more often than not, was the complete opposite - it did feel like they were invading your guys’s privacy if it was in the halls, in front of the door for her next class or yours, or even at parties to which everyone spread word that you couldn’t stand being a few seconds away from Julie - keeping yourself in close proximity unless she said otherwise.

(Like you’ve admitted; you’re an idiot for letting yourself be this way for Julie. You can't really help yourself when she’s so forward with wrapping arms all over, keeping herself magnetized with you before her going away was even in the picture. Laughing about silly things that others from the outside could never really comprehend what you and Julie talk about. Having conversations with her was incredibly easy; that, and along the hands on hands or hands on legs or arm on shoulder. Then there’s the loving gaze you’d give her - staring shamelessly and blatantly doing it with no problem at all as if it was the last few seconds you’d ever have, and it would be everything.

So. The ‘act.’)

Sometimes you’d completely forget the whole purpose as to why you’re even doing this thing with her in the first place, since it felt so natural. It’s typical for a high school romance, kissing with a reason behind it or without having one at all.

You’d do it to punctuate something, convince her to consider otherwise, lower your eyes and tilt your head, slot your lips with hers. If you were with anyone else besides her in this scenario; it would have the same effect, but wouldn’t hit your heart as hard as you wanted to. Julie would stare at you, nodding, understanding, having known that this cosmic binding was meant to stay that could transcend time itself - linking pinkies together, as an extension of your hearts being hitched together.

When she finally called the verbal agreement of the fake relationship off, you were certain that things would still stay the same between you two; which it did, of course, but she was open about the loving intentions you had for her, regardless if there was a label to it.

(You and her would hide away from others after that, still, just because the company with each other was better compared to your friends - no disrespect to them, of course. And all of those times of doing that - well, you made it known how you really felt about Julie without saying it. The kissing was there as a plus, remember?)

–

The point still stands: you remember all of it. You expected Julie to be the same; hoping to shield the feeling of her leaving with every intent as possible until the clock would eventually reach zero. It was never a part of the conversation, but the weight hung heavy even if you or her mentioned was coming to pass.

You’ve learned to drop such expectations - much like taking things with a very small grain of salt, because any solid assumption would only lead to thoughts that would only crumble you from the inside out. The more blanks you have, the better.

Delusion might be one thing, blindly falling in love was a shot in the dark to your own admission, but that silly idea of ‘she fell first, he fell harder?’; come to think of it, it might’ve been put in writing long ago and it all circles back without any single warning at all.

This is what people realize about Julie, and you were the first person to know of this: she always breaks through other’s expectations.

She’s an ever changing current of some form that could only be described as groundbreaking. Pushing boundaries of standards to new horizons. A highlight that was destined to shine brighter given the right tools and exposure to let her do that one simple thing that she’s good at, being herself.

Miles ahead of everyone, never wanting to look back. And there’s you, falling slightly behind from her, on purpose - because watching her take on the world was something that you could handle for as long as you lived in the same space with her. Distant, but not far. The small thread of imaginary rope in your head clinching onto the fact that she’ll see you for you, and maybe the labels could all be sorted out in due time.

“And here we were,” she begins, arms out to the sides like gliding on air. She’s in your varsity jacket, in trade for the unfinished ice cream in your left hand, nursing it for yourself while she’s elevating herself on planters or benches; anything to bring joy with the simple things no matter how silly it was. “Feels so good to finally be home for a quick minute.”

It’s a little bit late, the light posts are on, wind gusting through the small park where you’ve shared countless memories when you and Julie were kids. Everything around the place is timeless, only replaced with a few renovations scattered here and there around the area, but still the same. She’s alongside the railing, the other side a calm river housing scattered sounds of crickets and cicadas.

On the opposite end, was your mom’s SUV with the back parked in. Some fine luck that they made a space to be near that big old tree with enough branches and leaves to serve as shade when the sun hits the highest point in the sky. Despite the darkness, you liked it compared to the daytime, whereas Julie was the inverse.

“Does anyone know?” You stop short when she turns around, hands pocketed in that lent jacket. “You, being here. On vacation if this was your plan for a while now.”

“Well yeah,” she responds, approaching closer with her mouth open while you spoon feed her another bite of butterscotch from the small cup, pulling lips inward to clean any remains of the desert. “Sure, I could’ve gone anywhere else to have time off, but I chose to come here. Decided that it would be a good thing to come and see everyone after so long.”

You nod at that, admiring the reason. Hiding that small tug in your heart that should be small enough to not notice.

Julie knows you better than yourself sometimes, and she can see from your eyes that you’re trying to go beyond what's being said.

She steps forward, because she can, and you’re not against that. This is where she thrived back then: doing everything to make you uncomfortable. And yeah, it was very simple for her to do back then in high school; the little gesture she does with her shoulders and scrunching face to let you know that she’s won. Putting up with her antics was one thing, but it was nothing that you can’t handle - practicing all of the little tricks and quirks to perfection in the hopes of holding your own if it ever happened again, just like now.

“Look at you,” you chuckle, “always on some form of borrowed time.”

She steps closer, hand out to guide yours with the empty cup of ice cream, setting it on the stone adjacent from you two.

You’re not sure who’s really in control of who in this current moment. All of this was led on from the continuation of bouncing stories between your work life and hers, the details of people in your corporate circle commensurating a string of complaints and drama that you’re not all invested in, but kept an open pair of ears for them just out of the goodness of your solid gold heart. Julie also spills her fair share of things that she’s done, telling all with that maddening grin of hers, the way her cheeks elevate at the pull of her lips, how her eyes draw this curve that hides the irises while you could see the gums beyond her teeth. The low glow of the light post casts this in bronze, the timeless features you’ve seen countless times, in all of its glory.

“Do you remember,” she prompts, closing the distance once more with her chest slightly puffed up, shoulders rounded back and relaxed, hands still in the pockets of your jacket she’s borrowing. “About that time where we posed as a fake couple back in high school?”

“All because you couldn’t take the fact that everyone wanted you back then?”

“Maybe say it a little better than that,” Julie muses, nudging your elbow to keep on teasing, “You’re within the ballpark, however.”

“Right.”

Julie smirks, mixing a noise between a soft laugh and sigh, looking up dutifully with those doe eyes. “God,” she says, studying your stoic expression, “even now, you’re still the same after all we did.”

This might be a double-edged sword of words, a back-handed compliment if you’re going to dissect the linguistic skeleton. That old rhyme of ‘stick and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me’, has never been more true than now. You remain unfazed, smirking, staring. The wind suddenly picks up where it sweeps Julie’s stray strands of hair in front of her face.

You can’t help but giggle at the way she leans down with a small squeal, hands covering the top of her head to prevent any mess caused by the natural course of nature. Helping her stand up straight, your fingertips sweep those tousled strands, smoothening them to eventually make it look more presentable, not giving any care with how your hands are cupping her face.

Her question pops up in your head again: about how all of this seems familiar. Feeling the small pull of tension in the air when you gaze into her eyes again - filled with a longing that was tucked away, radiating with sparkles that shouldn’t even look real, but they are. You’re trying to think, and yet, “Maybe. You could be right. And you being here with me like this tells me exactly everything that I need to know.”

“Really.” Julie coos, dimples deepening, “Would you like to elaborate on this?”

“I think you can explain that a whole lot better than me.”

She nods her head, raising a hint of suspicion with an eyebrow, “You think?”

“I know,” you respond. Guilty as charged, she played you this entire time, and somewhere along the lines of accepting it the best way, “Well, you know too.”

Thousands of miles apart, decimating that to the single digits, now being mere inches apart - closing in like before; and maybe you were just falling into an old habit the way you pull her face towards yours. Something like this takes practice, could honestly come off as a natural action at this moment: you kissing her, like it was meant to happen. You could never forget all the times she made you feel like this. Only difference is, she’s slipping through the cracks along with you.

Julie tugs herself closer to you, trying to mend her body into yours; becoming one. She’s ballooning more into the press of your lips before shying away, shrinking, hands moving from your elbows straight up to the nape of your neck. One of your hands snake to the smallest point of her back, holding her curving spine steady, not letting up the exchange of her intoxicating air passing through your mouth and nose - it only has you feening for more.

And she hums this sound, low and deep, firing impulses within you that will take nearly every bit of brainpower left to resist.

“Juls,” you murmur softly, pulling away for a slight second, feeling the clutch of her hands around the fabric of your sweater-

All of that attention is zeroed in on this transcendent sound that she makes, sealing it with your lips again, all needy and deprived and in desperate want that would literally kill you on the spot. She’s willing to take you away, devour every bit because she will, and you’d be okay with that.

“You have–” she gasps, “no idea.” Dear Lord, she’s breaking by the instant - pulling herself back with your fingers tangled in her hair. The moonlight towering over illuminates this glow on her skin, basking in it while you’re giving her this same look of endearment that you’ve had for most of your life. You might be deserving of it, she could say otherwise; maybe it’s one of fate’s tricks blessing you for once.

“You do remember.” Playing into Julie’s mind game, falling into the sinking temptation that she’s unknowingly doing over you. It feels tense, but at the same time it doesn’t. “And here I was beginning to wonder if you’d forget everything–”

“Trust me,” she tells you, hand ghosting over the length of your collarbone while yours reels her small body closer. By the neck, she pulls you to close the distance. “My memory is just as good as yours.”

(Oh, and it’s how you’re reminded again and again: at how Julie is one half of your brain - a perfect compliment to you for so many years. No one even comes close, and some have tried; they could never get you like she does.)

“I want you,” Julie’s soft voice twists your ears right back. “Fuck, I’m only gonna say this one more time: I need you.”

You probably don’t recall the number of things you dreamed of hearing, but this might be one of them. It’s not a question or an answer, nor a quote said intrusively. If anything, this was the green light you’ve been waiting for; there’s just only one thing left to do then.

–

Forgetting Julie was always going to be an impossibility.

When a girl like her has her face in literally everywhere that you could imagine: in photoshoots, brand events, social media engagements; the magic of being famous really transforms one’s landscape if they can break the threshold - which she has, and in one way or another - she could never hide away from the bright lights.

Except at a time like this, you’re glad the darkness envelops both of you.

“Mmph.”

Your vision is focusing in blanks, searching for something, fixated on the silhouette of your hand floating over Julie’s head, slowly bobbing down along your length, lips wrapped tight around your cock and her tongue sweeping the grooves along the underside; the ligaments at the knees are way past the possible bending point where you could take them, hips forward while this girl is laid flat on her stomach with the trunk open, and you’re also thinking: who in the actual fuck would be out walking this late in the night to see this form of public indecency? She stops halfway, shakes her head side-to-side, coaxing the head on both sides of her inner cheeks, humming with every intent of praise at how good your cock tastes in her mouth.

“Fuck,” you rasp, letting your head fall slack backwards, smoothening Julie’s silky hair when she pulls back up, teeth grazing the tip that has you let out a pathetic groan. “You’re so good at that.”

“Mmmmh.”

The pop she makes off the head is sinister, and you’re already imagining the smile she has spread across her lips, swiping her tongue across to make them more wet than it already is. She’s giving you a hard time to think straight, and you’re still blown away with how forward she was into blowing you, not wanting to waste a minute before you and her could even make it back to the house.

“How are you holding up?” She asks innocently, seeing the hint of her honey amber eyes dart at you while her wrist is giving a wandering tug up the length, tensing up every fiber in your lower back to keep it there.

“Do you really want me to give you an answer?” And Julie chuckles at the flex of your thigh when she runs her fingernails over it.

Julie then gets back right to work, enveloping your cock into that sweltering heat of her mouth, coaxing it in all the ways you’ve fantasized before - grunting and exhaling spells of air when she dives down deep, deeper, massaging the head with her slick throat - all the way before putting a ring with her thumb and index finger at the base, practically purring at the constant rhythm she’s doing on you, to get you undone.

Your stomach does this funny little twitch, like a punch to the gut once her hand finally gets to dance along the shaft, stroking along the slick surface while her mouth services a fresh supply of wetness swirling all over. She hums in approval when you take matters into your own hands, wrapping two fingers across the bottom of your cock while she’s happily bobbing her head along the length, picking up a consistent rhythm of spit and dribbles coming out of her mouth, pushing you towards that breaking point, sliding her plump lips across the tip before swirling back in, hollowed cheeks, your eyes slightly rolling back, vision swimming, hunting for a way to stay conscious.

And the only subjective thing you’re inclined to do, not like there’s any other option for anything else, is to just let her have it. You’ll cum for her, all over her pretty face, and have her slip your cock back into her mouth to make you cum again in a few minutes flat. She knows that it feels good for you, there’s no doubt about it; how you can see her eyes with the occasional glow of your phone going off to break light, glaring at you with every intent of swallowing you.

“Paint my face baby.” Julie whispers. It’s not a proposition, she wants it to be set in existence, “your cock is so pent up for me, all you have to do is just let go.”

“Christ-”

That’s what pretty much sets you off.

Your shaft is molten around your hand, cockhead pressed agasint Julie’s perfect lips, hips jolting in quick pulses; you also might’ve heard your kneecaps crack a bit in the dead silence, three thick threads of cum landing on the curves of her cheeks, hearing her hum in content. Her mouth opens to let the next few shots of release settle into their new warm home, head wrapped around that opening, riding out the last bits of sensation as you’re draining everything all over her face and in her mouth. The overhanging light for the trunk switches on with what remains of your spent energy, catching that smug grin when she’s resting your cock on her cheek, parting lips open with a small dribble of cum leaking from the slit still, to which she licks with her tongue on the underside while having her eyes still trained on you. She’s all blissed out, irises focusing and unfocusing - almost cross-eyed; and just like before, you’re captured around her little spell once again.

A few seconds later and she’s wiping the damage from her face, licking it up from her fingers - fondly taking in the sweetness of your cum on her tongue while feeling out her jaw again, trying to internalize the feeling of your dick filling her slutty little mouth. She won’t forget it, and neither will you.

“You taste good,” she mumbles after getting up on her knees, ducking slightly so that her head doesn’t hit the roof of the car, “y’know, if that wasn’t already obvious enough.”

“Decorum, Julie.” You tell her, straightening your legs out for what felt like an eternity. “Thanks,” you follow up, “I do try my best with my own things.”

Julie lets out a snort, wiping her lips with any lasting remains of her drool mixed with your cum, “Jackass. Always so stuck up for being an ass.”

“You just said ass in the same sentence twice,” you comment, propping yourself on elbows to where Julie leans down across the width of your chest, towering over you.

She leans lower while your head bumps the backseat, face nearly centimeters away from yours, hearing and feeling the needy breath against your lips when your hand skates up her waist, teasing with a fingertip before you lightly clutch her back, allowing her to fall down and kiss you.

She’s not far away from you now, but instead right here in your arms. This is progress; good progress and maybe even better. You can barely see the hickeys along the column of her throat in the darkness - something that you’ll revisit to make her revel in the feeling of your mouth over them, a get back of sorts in trade for giving what she wants.

“I hate how you’re such a smartass.” Juile tells you while pulling away. But hey, at least she’s saying that with a smile.

–

The whole town gets slapped with inclement weather throughout the week.

And yeah, you’re pretty much giving your phone screen or laptop or even the television that no one really uses around the house a dirty look when you see the consistent set of numbers with the picture of a few clouds mixed with rain at the bottom of them. Though, it doesn’t really make sense for it to rain when the weather was nice for once up till now. The percentages of rainfall were particularly high, especially around this time of year which typically means: hey man, it would be best to just stay inside, maybe catch up on some of those books you’ve been putting off for quite a while because of school. You could also use this ample time to finally get that story also, get some words in while the thoughts are fresh, or something like that. A third option would be calling Julie, since as it turns out, her parents are gone - which also means she’s home alone, and whatever you do with that piece of information is entirely up to you. So what’s it gonna be? Besides, you still need answers as to what your current dilemma is with her relationship-wise, and ignoring the fact that she feels the same way should be ringing alarms in your head as it is.

You could curse your mom or bless her, because she gave you a favor to do by going to her house to drop a few things off.

One worrying drive later in the wet darkness, and a well managed job to beat the unrelenting rain before it got worse, you’re at her doorstep knocking. The steady thrums of the droplets hitting the roof before the knob clicks and the hinges creak open. She lets you in with no hesitation, patting your wet hair while you’re tending your soaked jacket to the coat hanger.

“Didn’t your mom say that it was a good idea to wait until this storm lets up?” Julie asks, walking ahead to the living room while carrying one of two bags that you brought over, contents being various snacks and clothes that you were willing to give to her since you hardly ever wore them. “Thanks for bringing my favorites for me,” she beams happily, “I haven't had these in a long while.”

“Managed to get them a day before today,” you tell her, trailing along her pathing where the space in the house opens up more. “I thought the forecast said less than 40% of rain would come.”

“You still believe in what they say on the news?”

“Not all the time, but it’s good to stay informed.”

Julie steps away into the kitchen while you plop down on the couch, leaning your head back on the cushion while the sound of plastic rustling fills your ears. Few moments later, she comes back with a sizable bowl of pretzels, placing it on the table before she goes and gets two bottles of water; which you scoff at first but appreciate the simplicity of maintaining a healthy diet.

You and her pick up right where you left off. Talking about anything and everything that was worth it in terms of interesting topics. The television has one of those random sitcoms provided on the streaming service after trying to search for one for about five minutes or so, feeding each other occasionally while trying to hold in laughs while staring at each other.

“How long have you had that color?” Gesturing with a head pat to yourself while Julie downs the lasting remnants of what’s in her cup. She gives you this gaze with the clack of the glass on the table, leveling her gaze with you - the low glow from the tv serving as the prominent source of light, catching the smallest sweep of her hair right at the ends, tilting her head to match yours in curiosity.

“For about a month. And honestly,” she breathes, “I was pretty skeptical about choosing this color in the first place,” she adds, pulling her knees closer to her chest, “but I guess you could say that I was convinced to try it out.”

You purse your lips, reaching over the the near empty bowl of crackers while Julie is holding in a laugh, offering the other half to her with an outreaching hand - to which she leans over with an open mouth, happily receiving the remains on her mouth while you’re alternating glances from the screen to her.

“By the way, my parents actually just went out to visit my grandparents,” she adds, realizing that shere was a missing set of keys from the pot where you set yours past the front door; not to mention the two vacant spots on the shoe rack where they would usually be. “So I guess it’s just us alone here if the storm doesn’t let up.”

And by some comedic timing, you get a text on your phone. Basically it just says from your mom to stay over at Julie’s for the night, after getting news of the road being unsafe to drive with the rain as the cause of one or two accidents already.

(You might consider yourself lucky; but what good would that serve since you’ve already put yourself miles ahead of the competition in getting with Julie?)

“If this is some form of good news,” you tell her, showing the message bubble from the phone screen, to which she unleashes this gummy smile, understanding by that cosmic connection you two have built together that doesn’t really need a logical explanation. “I think you’re in good company for tonight at least.”

Julie then leans forward. No- she launches herself at you while you and her were sitting along the bottom of the couch, playing along by letting her weight collapse on top. You pay no attention to how her arms hook around your neck, but you do focus on the press of her lips to your cheek; it’s honestly worth sharing a laugh at her nestling into the groove along your neck and collarbone, patting her back to let her know that you’re also happy with staying.

There’s this odd silence, to where she pulls away. You could also hear the faint sound of whatever sitcom was on the screen to provide a calm ambience. It’s appalling to how beautiful she looks without any makeup on, hand mindlessly clutching onto her oversized sweater to where she tenses up on impulse - almost unsure at first, only to grab your wrist soon after.

“I’ve been wondering,” she prompts, face upright while you press your tongue against the inside of your cheek, “how come you and I never made anything official between us?”

“What do you mean?” you blindly ask. “I thought I made myself obvious enough about how I feel about you.”

“You were,” she responds, inching her body closer towards yours. “Though, it hasn’t crossed my mind before recently, when we–”

“Yeah, I know.”

“You’re not weirded out about it?”

Anything that you say from this point on would only solidify your case. You’ve always wanted the idea of Juile being all to yourself, despite her being big enough for everyone else to get a wanting chance at her too. This realization came to you on a random day, probably, when you’re just going along with your day before you suddenly dropped whatever you were doing - staring off into the distance because at the end of it: you’ve fucked yourself head over heels for her from the start.

“I wanted-” your words get caught up behind the tongue while Juile’s fingers are branching out to your shirt.

“You sound unsure about something.” Her voice is laced with mischief, teasing.

“-to talk about last time, and even if we do bring it up, you know- us,” you add with a raised hand with hers, “I just hope that it’s not a one time thing.”

“It’s not.” she tells you, face pouting with scrunched brows. “You worry too much sometimes, even back in high school, you were always like that.”

She’s not wrong, but also, she’s right for calling you out.

“I could just leave right now if it makes you feel better.” You start to stand up from the floor, only to be stopped by Julie’s tighter grip on your hand, causing you to freeze for a moment.

“I’m just glad,” her shoulders rise and fall with the pressure mounted on top of them finally lifted from whatever was plaguing her, “That after all this time: you still stayed for me.”

It’s just like that other time, and you’re catching her train of thought faster than the words can come out of her mouth. This wasn’t something to think twice about - if you don’t take the second golden chance fallen at your lap, it’ll be a lasting regret filling the back of your mind once she goes back to the world that she created for herself.

“You know.” She tells you, with that endearing grin of hers, filled with so much of everything that has you fractured from within, because she doesn't need to say anything else. “You know all too well for me anyway.”

A hesitating shuffle of your butt across the hardwood, you’re scooching closer to her, lowering eyelids, hand trailed to the nape of Julie’s neck until you and her make ends meet. In an instant, she’s suddenly reformed into this being of wanting, need, someone who will let you have their way over them.

She pulls away panting, you give her another kiss to the jaw. “Funny, how the tables have turned.” You tell her, twisting your head to the opposite end before she meets your lips again - this time a little more hectic, hands grasping along the fabric of your shirt, almost peeling it off at the first go.

“C’mon now,” says Juile, hand underneath to your stomach before trailing down to the waistband of your pants, “Don’t make me change my mind like last time.”

–

Here’s a silly thing: upon arriving, Julie suggested that it would be a good idea for you to sleep in her room (and in this case, it has happened before; way too many times to be exact, gossiping about nonsense or cramming material at the last minute the night before a big test. Another funny memory to recall.) She teases that it’s nothing for you to be worried about, and it's not like you were going anywhere else for tonight.

Instead, you insisted on using the guest room that she has, but here’s the funny part; you and her don’t actually make it back up to her bedroom anyway.

The harmony of a laugh she lets out when you slip your shirt off of your frame, catching her staring for a few seconds too long - biting her lip and some of her index finger, she can’t help but be in awe. A new, fit, and refined look that replaces the scrawny and nimble image that you somewhat hated for the longest time - towering over her on the cushions of the couch, helping her slide out of that oversized shirt to see a white sports bra - sweatpants soon after with a matching set. You’re nicking your head to the side in disbelief, eyes overloaded with the image straight out of your fantasies - only this time now to be all too real.

“Holy shit,” you breathe, unable to blink while you get a hand on her hips, off to the right where there’s a small tattoo - an anchor, grazing your thumb over to see if that was also another secret she kept from you (from everyone, for that matter) - there’s also her impossibly slim waist, her luscious thighs, the definite line down the middle where her abs are at. This could be another win in your year of success, and then again, no one else but you gets to see her like this.

“Got something to say?” Julie asks, smirking with her head slightly tilted back, up on elbows, “They do say that girls are breathtakingly beautiful wearing white.”

A click of your tongue, not willing to argue with that take, because she’s right. It’s within the lines of superiority, giving someone the respect that they deserve. She could have it, but she also likes it when you don’t even think of giving her that kind of luxury. “My mouth has a lot more things to say than just words,” you tell her, the pair of hands sliding up to the tight elastic resting underneath her breasts.

“Care to share what you’ll do to me?”

You get rid of that annoying sports bra, for starters - hands filling up with the supple size of her breasts, fast to wrap around her upper back while you’re peppering the new territory with kisses all over, her head falling back even more to open up and let you ravage and mark and the tens of other things that you’ll get your chance on, eventually.

She’s heaving with shaky breaths, not wanting your lips to leave her body the more you indulge in her perfect skin. Nails are quick to dig into your back, slightly, and it’ll just add on from there. The levels of touching, holding, kissing, and the anticipatory downright fucking you’ll give her soon enough-

“Am I on the right track for you so far?” you ask, quick to get your lips on hers while she’s shrinking into a whimpering mess into the couch.

Julie has managed her good graces for so long now, and you’ve played the waiting game. No matter how long it took, it might be a gamble with your feelings for not being able to move on - it was possible then, but as of this moment, you already made your decision.

“You’re the fucking worst,” she pants, a loosely planted hand that slides off when there’s the press of your thigh against her clothed pussy, feeling her legs sandwich you in between to prolong the wanting feeling. “I’ve been wanting- waiting for so long.”

“Really now?” you say, voice filled with heat when you help her slide out of her sporty bottoms, finally cutting the last line of caution tape. A quick look down - and her cunt is there, in all of its glory - slightly glistening at the lips and primed for what’s to come. You’re surprised at how wet she is, even more surprised when she grabs your wrist to get your fingers alongside her aching slit; a small hiss of air passing through her teeth inward while you're spreading her little by little. “We’re a little ahead here aren’t we?”

“Fuck- please,” Julie spits out, eyes scrunching shut while you press a finger in to asses, and she’s practically liquid down there. She’s acting completely different from earlier - failing terribly to keep composure - but she’s just as infectious as she always is. “You don’t think I know the amount of times you’ve yanked one out while thinking of me? Believe me, I know.”

“I didn’t say anything about it.” you reply, thumb lightly pressing against her clit while your middle finger curls a bit inside her, feeling her hips shoot upward off the cushion. You’re also doing everything in resisting the urge in the growing bulge in your pants, to ignore how badly it’s throbbing for you to snap and get yourself acting exactly how she wants to fuck till one of you goes dumb; cock drunk or pussy drunk, it’ll end in those one or two ways. “But it’s true: I want you also.”

Julie just mewls at your fingers, clenching around them, that forces a soft chuckle out of you. This was the first time that she’s losing her patience, and you’re going to milk the hell out of this moment for as long as you can.

“Don’t be-” she’s rambling with an open mouth, blinking fast, “Don’t be a bitch. Everyone knows that I wanted you for so fucking long.”

Well what do ya know? She would be the one to cut the wire and jump on the grenade between the both of you in confessing. There are very little things kept secret with her, some things you might’ve forgotten along the way, but you’ll keep this in your mind for as long as you live.

“Yeah,” you sigh, pressing your lips together while you slide your fingers out of her, the squelching sound vile for your ears to register. Hands are quick to meet her hips, scooching closer with a pull, to where her ass meets the top of your thighs. “Yeah.”

“Need it,” she pleads, “Need your cock inside of me.”

You’ve managed to get your sweats off in record time, pressing her legs up to where her heels are facing the ceiling. These feelings from embers that were supposed to die out years ago, but they never did, and this dirty act serves as a testament of everything you’ll put out on the table - for her. It’ll be shown in her swollen lips, the trail of hickeys scattered across her body, down to the crimson marks from your hands holding on for too long. Consider this a long shot in a stroke of luck - because no one will know her like you do.

And when you’re doing this steady approach of rubbing the head of your cock, against her aching cunt, waiting to be filled - you don’t even think twice about it at all. There’s this relief, washing over; almost in reverence to being dipped in holy water through the baptism ritual, feeling her walls slide all over the length of your cock. There’s also this shared ache, the mirrored rise of both your chest and shoulders. Once the ache finally subsides, you just stay inside her for a second.

“You–” and albeit you’re at a loss of words also; Julie’s face writhes, grasping for both of your hands secured past the middle, keeping her in place. The limitless amount of things that you’ll get your way in: mouth fast to her neck? You’ll do it. Pin her against the armrest of the couch with her ass up, or maybe have her do the work in bouncing back, and she will. Managing your cock fully inside her tight hole was good to settle with for now, “This fucking cunt, Juls–”

She sucks her stomach in, mouth now slackened, the utterances and noises that she unleashes would never hold up in an interview if they gave her the opportunity to speak her mind as she pleases. But she’s not caught up in the city and it’s stars; instead, she’s with you, on her couch, in her house, taking your- “Baby,” it’s really sweet how she keeps up with the pet name, “fuck, fuck, fuck- I can’t with your- your cock is - that’s so deep, holy fucking shit-”

You’re pretty much slightly drunk at how well she wraps around your cock, crying without fail. The octaves rising up with every hit back in, and she’s absolutely knocked. It won’t stop with the wash of rain hitting the window panes, feeling the rising heat between you two grow gradually larger, fixated on the extremely tight vice she has over you, and you’ll take that as a gift.

“I’ve dreamed of this for so long,” your voice drags lowly, upping the ante the more you carve your cock into her, the tight hotness becoming more and more addicting by the minute. Julie was always an advocate for showing confidence in her looks, and it shows: in her pictures, the way she flaunts around that has everyone’s jaws dropped to the floor, all angles and good sides of her - behind closed doors, you’ll make sure that no one will see this version of her.

(And in a way, you do get it, you’ve understood the script written in your head now that you finally have the feelings fully reciprocated, and claiming this girl as yours would only be the start of it.)

When you’ve finally pushed her over, screaming, that’s the only cue you’ll ever need to keep breaking her.

“Please, please, please-”

“Tell me all about it, hm?”

Julie grins with her eyes squinting barely open, gasping out some form of a declaration.

“You’re, fuck- fuck me,” the air between you clashes with the contrast of warmth from the bodies - the coolness of the air conditioning filling the room, only for it to be backdrafted. Her flawless face is amazing to look at, leaning up for you to dip down and kiss her, hands still fast to her hips, her back arches with a slight lean back, trying to keep the motion going with every stroke and grind and touch you have over her. She’s getting close, you can feel it in the addicting clench, and you’re almost at your wit’s end.

“Needed me for so long, hmm?” you ask, smiling against the hot surface of her porcelain features, “then cum baby, all over this dick. I know you want to.”

She mumbles, something close to a string of ‘yeses’, and her whole body trembles.

It’s filthy, gross, impure, sloppy, pushing deep; angling past the trench to a euphoric feeling that she’ll only demand from you. The way that your hips slap against the bottom of her thighs, grasping her hips and across the supple skin the more you fuck through her orgasm. In some way, this was your get back for what she did to you in the back of the SUV that night, needing little to no words to punctuate the lovely sounds of her hitching breaths with every stroke back into her wet, tight cunt. Her grip on your wrists goes deathly, clenching you the same way her pussy does on your cock, and she’s still stuttering - the whimpers and whines the only serviceable words she can only speak while you groan in slamming her deeper into the couch.

There’s really no room for a margin of error, every drive back into her only gets you closer to that edge, and while she’s reduced to nothing less but a piliant puddle of mush from the head down, you unbury yourself, fist wrapped around the length of your shaft when you finally release your hot, sticky load all over the fine canvas of her midriff. Covering her - over her chest and waist, all fucked out silly and just laid out to immerse in the ropes of cum spread out across, soaking her.

“You- you,” Julie sputters out, while you have a hand off to the left side of her head, barely supporting yourself with what little energy left in not toppling over her nimble body. “Oh my god. Oh my god?”

You’re still riding on that high, finally letting your body go slack when you meet her lips again. She moans in content, how her tongue clashes against yours, trying to power its way through into your mouth. Pulling on the bottom of her swollen lip, just to be a tease, “Julie,” you mumble, breath grazing against her cheek, smiling. That same lip wobbles a bit, an implication that she’s still processing what just happened, aside from the shaky breaths and unfocused eyes. “Baby.”

A lazy smile brightens up her whole image. Her eyes are fluttered shut, but her lips and the faintest tip of her ears tell a different tale entirely. It’s the same smile you fell in love with since seeing it the first time, it never gets old.

“I love it when you say ‘baby’,” she starts with a soft tone, gentle, tender. “You have no idea how bad my head spins when you say those things to me.”

Through the small pitter-patter of raindrops hitting the window panes and the roof tiles, you think to yourself at how this moment should never end. The present moment like now will be ingrained into your brain for as long as you’ll move on with living. “I think.” you say with a whisper, laying your body over her - kissing her cheeks, her forehead, feeling her hands slide up the well defined muscles on your back. She tries to hide away, putting her head off to the side, and you’ll get the top of her neck too. Anything for her to finally have you, it’ll be a fair transaction. “I do.”

“Tell me more?”

“I’m just glad you didn’t forget about the many things that I’ve already put myself out for you.” you tell her, and she nods in agreement. The interlink between you two has never been stronger than ever, and this moment will just solidify it.

–

You’re scouring through the fridge and cupboards for something substantial to satisfy your spontaneous midnight cravings. There’s actually a load of different options; a wide variety of chips and snacks in the pantry. In terms of drinks, not much for you to work with - and a glass of water or milk would be good enough to take since it wouldn’t be much longer until you’ll eventually fall asleep.

Unless you're Julie, who’s standing next to you in the kitchen while you’re assessing her foods (still naked along with you, by the way), licking off some of your cum off her stomach slowly, a stray finger trailing up your waist since some of it did get on you as well.

It also doesn’t help how she’s sucking on her fingers shamelessly - hollowing her cheeks, pursing her lips, sticking out her tongue that will only put your head in a downward spiral. She’s massively fucked for doing that, with those cat-like eyes she has - but dude, you’re still staring at her.

“Can you like-” you nick your head off to the side, diverting your attention away from her to lock on the same open bag of half-full pretzels she put in the bowl when you first came in, deciding to settle with that but pulling it out onto the edge of the counter. “Do you really have to do that in front of me?”

“Doing what?” she asks you innocently, almost stupidly. She’s wetting her bottom lip, and man is she evil for doing that continuously. “It’s not my fault that you came so much. My pussy is just that amazing for you.”

Oh, fuck her. Seriously.

She’s back to her chirpy, bubbly vibe with that tone in her voice, the witty remarks also came back in full force. Your brain is probably in overload mode with how she’s blinking sweetly, smiling all knowingly like she usually does. It’s a longshot that you’ll draw this up to be a one-time thing, let alone be a golden chance done by your work single-handedly. Within these walls and as long as she’s with you, everything about it just feels right in its place.

“You’re such an asshole,” you breathe, closing the door to the fridge with a quarter-full bottle of orange juice, Julie getting ahead with two empty glasses ready on the counter. Everything that she does even if it’s the simplest of tasks is undeniably attractive for some reason; no matter if it’s her on the balls of her feet, reaching the cupboard or walking past you with the sway in her hips, one thing does settle back into your mind: she’s here, and that’s pretty much all that matters at this point. “I should give you a napkin to wipe off the stains on your abs.”

“Or I could just keep on licking it off while you pour me a glass.” She muses, tilting her head up while you kiss the crown of her head, pulling a few lazy strands of hair to the side, “Why did it take us forever to finally do that? I mean, and here I thought that you would be a little more underwhelming with your moves in bed.”

“You mean the couch, Juls. C’mon. Let me remind you that you’re the one who went and kissed me first.”

“And the things that you said about dreaming to fuck me actually came true,” she laughs, lightly clinking the rim of her glass with yours before sharing a nice, homey drink together. “All of those jokes about you and the guys wanting a chance with me, well guess what, you’re the winning contestant that blew away the competition.”

Side-eyeing her, you press your back to the fridge, she’s standing on the opposite end, legs crossed together - mirroring your posture, she’ll match whatever energy you give her, knowing that you’ll always do the same. This could be some silly pairing of toothbrush to toothpaste, and despite the difference in lifestyles, how your lines of successes came at different times, it seems that the parallel line you drew between you and her long ago finally reached a crossroads, which is a good thing, of course.

“The girls also said the same thing,” she tells you, “about how out of everyone in our circle of friends, it was somehow going to end up with us being together.”

You take that with a grain of salt, unsure if what she was saying was true or not. But she knows that she’s right; you took the realization first before she did - since she’s usually stubborn in some cases and won’t listen until it finally hits her, but it took her long enough. All of those rumors back in school and the whole skit of you posing with her may be a tipping point, but after putting yourself through that with her, a part in your head was always confident that she’d see what you’re seeing.

“Maybe they saw it first before you did,” you say, pulling her by the arm and into your space, feeling her arms circle around your waist while you’re rubbing her shoulder. “I’ve always been like this.”

“You got there first,” she replies coyly, tilting your head down for another meaningful kiss, “Blame me for being oblivious.”

–

Turns out that Julie’s parents came back to the house first thing in the morning. Well, they’re pretty relieved that you came over and stayed the night even with the weather going absolutely crazy over the past few hours, telling you about how one of the old trees came down blocking the road and cutting off access in some areas of the town. They didn’t bother to ask about the obvious marks spread across her neck and yours, and the bite mark on your wrist was also a small concern to be worried slightly - uh, you’ll talk to the girl regarding that later.

As for the present situation in terms of appearance while breakfast was made, you’re wearing one of her shirts that was blindly pulled from the closet before instantly passing out soon after. In all honesty, Julie liked how cute you looked with that stupid Hello Kitty graphic across your chest, but it was still a good laugh.

“She could’ve given me one of your shirts,” you tell her dad, passing a plate with half a stack of pancakes soaked in syrup, “Though, my clothes were already drenched from the rain and all.”

“I would’ve been fine with it,” her dad says, “Would’ve been better to get you changed out and not keep you in your own clothes for the night.”

“He knows that I steal from your closet as it is. He’s also crazy if I was gonna have him walking around the palace in one of your shirts, dad.” Julie butts in, bumping your shoulder while her parents are drinking in the sight of their daughter getting along so well with you like it’s old times. They’ve treated you as if you were one of their own, and it goes the same way whenever Julie stays over at your place. Even as kids, staying over and waiting for the other to pick you or her up was always the usual gig. Julie’s parents saw you as someone who is very easygoing, only to be chained to their daughter till the point where separating you two was a stupid decision. You could also assume that they even talked to her about the whole relationship stuff, and they’d be supportive of it, and marriage wouldn’t even be an issue to get around with.

“Will you be busy this summer?” Julie’s mom asks, breaking all the stories from past years in the kitchen. “You finished school and everything, right?”

“I did,” you answer, feeling Juile’s arm on your shoulder, pulling your head towards hers to wipe off a small patch of syrup stuck on your bottom lip with her finger. “Not supposed to start my new job for another few weeks or so.”

Julie’s mom hums in excitement, “Look at you, all grown up and getting your life together in the real world. Like your parents, we’re also proud of you too. Julie especially.”

You gawk at Julie comically, earning a side-eye from her before she playfully slaps your shoulder in retaliation. Both of her parents let out another laugh while you’re veering your face away from her hands. She puts a leg on top of yours on the seat, subconsciously palming it while feeding you another piece of pancake from your plate. “I really appreciate you guys, and I don’t think I could ever express that enough.”

“And you have already.” Julie agrees, openly kissing your cheek while you’re internally breaking down for a slight second soon after. That assumption about her parents being super supportive if you and her finally made it official - well, that was most certainly the case when the both of them nod in approval towards you and her.

“Your parents love me, and we most definitely love you.” Julie says, and you’ve never been more reassured or comfortable about anything in your life.

–

Everything falls into the same sense of normalcy like it was before. Some days you’re spending your time at her place, and on other days she’s over at your place. And in between those days where it’s just you and her together, it’s replaced with the sporadic rotation of hangouts with old friends and colleagues who got wind that Julie’s now a mainstay (just for the summer, in case you forgot).

Some of your friends also tell you and Julie about their insights about the same stories, all while sharing a few bites of appetizers and circling drinks until one of you guys play the silly idea of putting all your credit cards on the table for the waiter to pick a lucky winner at random to pay for the whole meal.

Not long after, the small party migrates from the restaurant to one of your friend’s houses, where the drinks seem to keep on coming it feels like - being a bit buzzed on the couch while your eardrums are pounding from the somewhat acceptable cover of whatever song they blindly picked from the song book. You’re a little out of it, but still conscious enough to have another sip of water as the viable substitute, words loosely slurred but still discernible to be fine with.

That is, until Juile is heaving out on your arm, leaning over away from the couch, laughing about some funny memory that happened back in high school - it’s also worth mentioning: she’s drunk, and also a lightweight. You could also look back at the apparent irony that she wouldn’t go all out with the alcohol before entering the restaurant, but here she is - completely lost in the plot at this kickback.

“You’re gonna throw up if you lean forward like that.” you tell her, holding her up by the shoulders to correct her posture, some hair is also in her face and you part it off to the side with the instinctual thumb rub on her cheek.

“Did you tell everyone here that you and I finally fucked?” she slurrily spits out, causing everyone in the group within the close proximity of the couch to be in a collective state of shock, though, that’s quickly dissipated with you confirming everyone’s suspicions - despite not being fazed or fully surprised.

(Before anyone else asks, you’re telling the group. Yes, we also made it official after God knows how long. Are you happy now?)

–

Later, she’s back in your room for one night, maybe two.

The whole place is riddled with waves of nostalgia, Julie’s additional presence opening up the sweet wound that never really hurted you in the first place; if anything, it makes the nocturne appearance of the moonlight breaking through your blinds and into the space where you’d want to keep things just the way they were. It’s in the trinkets and collectibles; the multitude of shirts you’ll let her steal (which she already has), a trophy that she broke on accident, and the wilted corsage for when you took her to do anti-prom activities for fun when she gave you the news about moving away from you and this town. The small recap on film running through your head is short-lived, kind of like the roll burning up when there’s nothing left - much of a story unfinished. You and her could recount all of the things that make your room yours, and you wouldn’t mind wasting time talking about the many different kinds of nonsense with her.

“I’ve been wondering,” she tells you, “actually, more than just wondering.”

She’s straddled across your lap, fingers dancing along the back of your head - your hands and eyes are wandering all over, from the visible window of her cropped shirt, helplessly holding onto her on her sides, the gradual curve from the rise of her ass, hiking to the spots where you’ll bruise her skin and–

“I’m sorry,” you’re left breathless and laughing a good amount when you look down at her sweatpants, “since when were you so bold with hiking up the ends of your lacy panties for me to notice?”

Julie presses her tongue to the inside of her cheek, knitting one brow closer to the bridge of her nose, hands neatly rested across your traps while she’s snickering at you keeping your eyes stuck to her body - letting your fingers trail up and underneath her cropped shirt, realizing that she didn’t have a bra underneath to begin with. She reads into your next move when your hands stop at her sides, crossing hers over and slipping the shirt, tossing it in some corner of the room where you’ll look for it later, taking in the valley of her breasts and the nice size when you get your thumb and finger beneath them.

“You’re getting off topic.” She says to you with a click of her tongue, calculated, knowing that there were more pressing measures to be discussed rather than have you shamelessly lusting and drooling all over her pleasantly enticing skin. “Answer the question, dickhead.”

“Language.” you chuckle, leaning your neck up for a pitiful kiss - to which she accepts.

It’s awfully quiet around your side of the neighborhood. The only things that break the silence in every few moments or so is the distant beep of the smoke detector downstairs; that, and probably the occasional pass by of a car down the street.

She asks you the question bouncing around her mind, but you pay no attention since you’re leaving chaste kisses across her chest.

“Hm?” you have the audacity to hum, causing Juile to flip some of her hair forward - a flash of her ego at best; and another thing about it, you’re so into that. “Must’ve missed the question again. Wha–”

“You really didn’t have anything serious going on while I was away?” Julie’s implying about any kind of special connection, whilst being very indifferent in the way that she speaks. “Not even good fuck that’s worthy of swiping your v-card?”

“Okay, then explain how good the experience was when you were doing it with me.” you reply, touch of the fingertips nestling on the outer edge of her back - sliding lower, more forward when you give the faintest pull to bring her closer to you chest. “I’d love to hear all the details about it, actually.”

“You just want me to say that you’re a good fuck for me.”

“In more ways than one, yes.”

Her arms make way, coiling around your neck - tauting themselves gently when you slip the lace at her hips between your fingers. Pulling them down a bit, just to test something, an attempt at best to make her open up all the neat perks and merits of what will entail later. No need to get more depth in the details, you already have most (if not all) of it memorized about her. She’s leaking out the bedroom eyes in the blackness of your small room, and it’ll reel you in whether you’re sensible to resist them or not.

“If this feeds your ego,” she tells you, singing the sentence along her tongue and to your ears, “you’re right, and I won’t bother to argue.”

Like you could ever complain to her or vice versa, Juile knows that her own pride will come tumbling down at the cost of you - as you’re electrifying her with every passing touch, sliding the pants and underwear off of her while giving her no chance to recover with a tit in your mouth.

A pop off the nipple, and she’s running a hand through her hair, trying to keep herself focused, and failing. “Want me to prove myself to you again?”

She presses her lips to yours, hard. A clash of the tongue and pull of your neck for more leverage, rut her hips across yours to test the friction - that growing heat from within her core, a singularity that many others would die to feel let alone hear the lovely sounds coming out of her mouth.

“Please,” murmurs Julie, smiling against the bottom of your chin, the grip on her ass tweaks tighter. You’re already imagining the red marks that would defile that creamy, holy skin.

“Try me,” she husks, “you’ve pretty much earned it.”

–

(Julie has never been more right about you. The way she puts up all of these walls and red tape; basically begging you to rip right through them, and you do. She’s flustered and left in broken pants the first time you make her cum, screaming and trembling by the second, and you have her a sobbing mess by the third time ‘round, coming undone by your cock. When you slide out of her well-worked pussy, her eyes roll back and up - raw, undone, satisfied - a move up to licking you clean with a swipe of the underside, a kiss to the tip that keeps you hypnotized for a few seconds, and she wants you to keep this in mind.

“Have I proven a point?” you ask her in full content, hand fastened to the headboard of your bed while you’re straddling her chest, happily wrapping her pretty lips around the head of your cock. “You looked like you enjoyed it a lot.”

She curls her back in and out when you finally shift and collapse next to her, a lazy kiss to your neck, humming sleepily as if she gave up in keeping it hidden from the rest of the world. “I did,” she whispers ‘round the cuff of your ear, kindly admitting it along your skin. “You’re everything I wanted bundled up all into one.”)

–

The implication still stands: Julie was never meant to stay rooted to this town.

She altered her own destiny into becoming a well known individual (since the term ‘famous’ wasn’t too appealing to put it, according to her). She’s sharing all of these different experiences, events, the interactions with people she would have never thought of meeting in her life let alone be in the same space as them. You’re sharing a buttload of things from your end of the scope, how some things stayed the way they are, for the most part. And it’s something that crosses your mind–

“I never really said to you directly about how proud I am of you,” you tell her, happily swinging your right leg around on the swingset outside your guys' favorite cafe. “I’ve told your parents countless times whenever I would see them, but-“

She has her leg over yours, shoulder meshed with her head leaned over - in one of your hats doing its job well enough to keep her appearance concealed; a bit pointless when literally everyone around the town could recognize her with ease.

“They told me,” she reassures, fiddling along the plastic bit of the string from your hoodie, pursing her lips out with a crease of the eyebrows. “You couldn’t keep in touch with me, but they could, and maybe I could’ve squeezed you in along with them - all you had to do was just ask.”

Her lips quirk when she makes eye contact with you, rolling them over and right when she scrunches her nose, knowing well at how much you could put up with her antics.

“That would’ve made things a whole lot easier, but hey,” she laughs, admitting stupidity where it stands, “What matters to me is that you finally had the chance to tell, despite everything.”

Well, I’m proud of you. You’re saying it again, this time straight to her face and not playing as the messenger. I was with you every step of the way, and now we’ve both made it to where we want to be, and maybe more.

You’re pulling a piece of hair over the cuff of her ear, she melts at the touch of your palm. Julie then leans in eyes pulling to a close, then the abrupt call of your name on the intercom signifies that the order was ready; letting out a short laugh while a parting slap to her thigh separates you two for just a few moments.

One quick tip later of a few cents, and she looks up with those oversized rims of her glasses, smiling sweetly once you hand her the same latte she always orders during schedules and events. She’s sipping it instantly while you’re moving her leg up back to where it was before; nodding along at how good the drink tasted.

She appears distant, pondering about something - zoning out to the distance while she slowly learns back against your shoulder. You’re looking out also, letting the eyes wander for anything in the cool early hours of the morning.

“Do you resent me? For leaving you? This town, our friends, and everything behind?” she suddenly stops drinking to ask.

Blinking, you’re trying to find something substantial for an answer. “Well…”

“Be honest.” she says enthusiastically. “I want nothing but the truth.”

It takes only a few moments to consider, and you’re always honest with yourself when it comes to talking to Juile. She always wanted to understand your side on certain things: opinions on important matters, what kinds of clothes look good on her and what doesn’t, even the stances on who matches with who and the possible compatibility between the two that isn’t you or her. You lick your lips, tilt the drink in your hand but just enough to not where it’ll spill.

“I’ve already told you what I thought about everything that day,” you say, placing the drink on the bench to prevent from letting the wetness from the cup soak to your fingers. “It hasn’t changed. And it never will. Me being with you since the beginning should already say enough.”

“Ah, you’re right,” she breathes, pouting her lips slightly because you could easily tell that she’s managed to let that slip from her mind, and you don’t blame her for that. She continues to ramble on about all of these regrets that seem to unravel and fall out - her cool breaking down once the realizations set in of the countless sacrifices she had to make. “How silly of me, overlooking that day.”

A shake of her head only brings the disappointment to the front faster, and she keeps drinking up her latte. You catch the smallest hint of a twinkle in her eyes, the middle part of the plastic top hitting the edge of her nose once finished with the beverage. Instinctually pressing your lips to her cheek as reassurance, she smiles at that, letting you take her empty cup to toss a few steps away from the bench.

Coming back, she’s on her phone, smiling her heart away at something that she’s proud of for sure; you can’t help at how cute she looks when she’s all geeked out - emitting more confidence that you could only dream of matching.You’ll get a chance of that with her help, or not; either way, if she’s happy, you’re happy.

“I was out in Europe for a shoot before our break,” she lets you in on her project, “The concept is very niche for all of us, and I’m very happy we pushed forward with this. Consider it as an insider look as appreciation for the way you’ve been treating me.”

She’s showing you a quick slideshow of Julie in an extremely wicked bikini top, a roll of green wrapped around her middle in a poor attempt of a ribbon around her body. Then there’s the short video of her on the stationary bike, and then the actual choreography. It’s leaving you in shock, so there’s really only one way of reacting. “I- holy shit. Julie, the–”

You’re watching how exciting it is for her to show these things to you, it’s adorable. She lets you in about all of the logistics, music, overall approach to how they wanted this thing to be received. The drive, passion, how everyone played a part into making this work; you understand that level of thinking entirely. “Right? This was exactly what I was talking about.” she’s tapping along your arm, “I can easily tell which part is your favorite already.”

“Not even gonna say it.”

“You should because it’s me.”

“Fucking christ,” you mutter, swiping her phone to get a closer look. She leans closer with a mischievous giggle at the thumb replaying the clips over and over again. “Hate it, someone like you should never be this hot.”

“But I am.” she replies, placing both of her legs across yours. “That’s the fucked up thing, isn’t it.”

“It’s also amazingly fucked up how good you are at twerking.”

“Didn’t come from practice baby, it’s all natural.”

You’re left gaping at her, shocked even. Julie’s eye smile is the only thing you see while she's covering up her face in embarrassment, wondering if the current judgment you’re giving her will stick for the foreseeable future.

It’ll throw you for a loop, but it’s still hot.

“I might have to rethink my life choices from here on out.” you tell her, staring up at the ceiling with a smile while she playfully punches your shoulder out of annoyance.

–

A beat later, you’re staring at the ceiling.

More specifically, the ceiling in your room, barely holding it together when you look up at the sight of Julie’s backside, cock vanishing in between in that glorious canyon of her ass, bouncing up and out with the pitches in her moans go further up the gradual scale.

“Fucking hell,” you hiss, hands resting along her calves while she slams her hips down, lightly thrusting yours up to meet her in the middle. The pressure already hot around your length, murmuring some words of praise that fall toward nearly inconceivable to understand. She sits up, and you’re hypnotized by the way she raises her hair up to reveal more of her surprisingly toned back, peeking over her shoulder, while your head just plops back to the pillow behind.

“You like that,” she murmurs, rocking her hips in a forward-backward motion along the stiff line of your cock, “oh- you love when you get to have my ass like this for you.”

“God-,” you huff out, pathetically, vision blackening to a fine point. “Holy shit- I could never get tired of this pussy, ‘feels so damn good.”

She falters forward, letting most of her lower body do the work, spreading her thighs out more for your hands to come to grips with. Flipping some of her hair back, while reversing her ass at the angle where you feel all of her, you’re worried if your dick will stay in one piece by the end of it.

“Just sit there like a good boy and relax,” Julie tells you, with a firm determination above the creaks of the bedframe, “don’t even do anything.” When she grinds down, deep, to where you’re thrusting your hips upward to hit her favorite spot, she coos at how you failed to put up with her instructions. “Look at you, not even listening to what I’m saying, shame on you.”

“Don’t really care,” you offer - an admission of guilt would be a better way of describing it, “You always get what you want anyway, so it’s my turn.”

You could feel the smile from across her lips, happily taking the opportunity to fuck herself over your cock choking her all the way down to the hilt. The slick sounds coming away from your groin and hers is a lovey track you’ll never get tired of hearing, and she adores the sounds coming out of you as well, it’s unholy, slamming back down with the sweetest whines projecting from her mouth.

She shimmy’s her hands up your thighs, sitting upright, letting you rest inside her warm hold for just a second while she catches her breath. Then, with a move of one leg, and the other to follow, she’s on the opposite side, caressing your head while your fingers are quick to get her hips moving again, amazed when you slide up in her, quivering thighs and a shaky breath to get you softly laughing.

The slaps of her hips on yours get louder for a few moments; admittedly, you kinda just let yourself go because her cunt should not be this easy to spread apart. In addition to that, her mouth hovers next to your ear, mumbling words or something remotely close to a verbal sound while you’re fixated on the clench her walls have over you.

The vision only fades out more, then the hearing also goes:

“Pill.” she tells you. That singular word entails a thing. One thing, and probably the testaments that will come after - if you’re ready for it, but let’s face the facts: for someone like her and the industry that she’s affiliated in, no one is ever really ready, but you’ll be in on it if she’s the first on board.

You’re not letting up your pace anytime soon, grabbing a handful of her ass, and bringing her back down to Earth. “Juls, you–”

“I want your cum.” she simply says, “just yours.”

It’s also not worth putting up a fight for much longer when she cums first; the gritty groan that has you sighing in tandem. She’s powering through with her lips on yours, wanting your body to completely crumble underneath her, fucking past your threshold - a kiss to the corner of your lip, in the most menacing action she could do to you, well pleased and–

“You’re so- fuck, filling me up was also one of your dreams, wasn’t it?”

Hey, in all fairness, let her have this one on you. If it means having her breasts all over your tongue or her nails gripping the nape of your neck, you’ll be adamant in not letting her go.

–

Your mind gets in this gray area. Things might be in a constant loop in terms of activities, or maybe you’re dialing it back from the hammering heatwave the other day. It’s not that, just the foggy morning on a lazy Sunday.

You’re taking slow steps across the hardwood floorboards in your house, glass of water in your hand. There weren't any plans for you and Julie for today, so the second best option which was the logical one was to stay inside, despite doing that for four out of the seven days last week. There’s also this quiet appreciation you have when the ominous setting of the house is in complete darkness, with the light fog serving as the present light source when you reach back to your room upstairs.

Upon returning, the visible spot of where you slept, and Julie adjacent to the right, still knocked out. It’s very calming, you realize, how peaceful she looks while sleeping, the gentle rise and fall of her chest underneath the sheets. The small tousle of her hair is spread out across the pillow, with her left arm and leg in the same position as it was when you were in bed with her before waking up.

Mindful of what she mentioned about her sleep schedule being all over the place at times, you decide to admire her bare face when you’re thumbing her cheek.

She twists a bit at the touch, the subtle stretch of her body underneath, shaking off the slumber little by little. The comforter resting along her neck shifts down, revealing the apparent lines of hickeys across the column of her neck - a favorite preference of yours that you’re carefully examining while she slowly flutters her eyelids open.

A look up, and you’re leaning down to kiss her cheek. “Figured I’d let you sleep in for a bit longer, but it looks like you don’t want to.”

Julie pulls a lazy smile, shifting her body slightly deeper into the cushiony confines of the bed, not wanting to move. “Do I want to know when we both passed out last night?”

“I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“It’s also not like we’re gonna do anything today. I mean, it’s been hot for most of the week. And, we only got lucky with the rainfall around here.” She finally decides to sit up a bit, pull some of the sheets over her body for a little more coverage. Your parents are out early again seeing relatives, an advantage in this current scenario: just you and me alone? Where you’ll fuck me again and again until the screams bounce off the walls and the neighbors will come over to complain for the hundredth time-

“You’re right. We don’t have anything planned for the time being,” you tell her, another helpless kiss to give that sends your brain giddy signals because your gorgeous lover and best friend for years is making you act like a freaking kid once more - not that you’d complain about it.

“Aside from watching that series you found, I’d rather just stay inside for today.” Julie suggests, scooching closer to you on the edge of the bed. “Cook us something for breakfast.”

That will happen, eventually, but you’re too busy working your lips all over Julie’s face. Tip your forehead in, get a kiss to her temple, then her cheeks, a stray one next to her nose, the end of her nose, her jaw. She’s too smitten with the private displays of affection, gratefully accepting it with an arm thrown over the shoulder, lightly laughing a crinkled nose with her face brightening.

It’s moments like these, away from the attention of others, behind closed doors, where the cameras and die-hard fans of Julie’s persona don’t typically have the golden chance to see, they’d envy to be in your place - as the one person out of everyone in her life to have this side of her. She tells you that fame itself is a weird paradox to get sucked in by, and in a way she’s absolutely right. You know from the get-go that Julie is one of the most beautiful, soft-spoken, and well respected individuals you have ever had the blessing of knowing.

“Anyone ever told you how amazing you look?” you ask her, her squinted eyes losing all seriousness when you laugh.

The look of adoration you have on her bare, sleepy face. It’s a sight that you don’t want others to cherish other than yourself.

“I’d rather just stay in this room and stare at you if I could.”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing already?” she asks, biting her lip while you’re tilting your head from right to left, mimicking her doe eyes that she rejects with a hand soon after, for now.

You bite your lip, let out a tsk, and something snaps in your head for one second. Lips are fast to the line of her neck, hand slithering to her back, laying her back down on the bed gently. Julie tenses up for a moment, then lets her body go slack, allowing you to leave no nook or crevice untouched with the feeling of your tongue.

“Breakfast?” she asks.

“Not now,” you answer, kissing the pulse point right beneath her jaw, soothing with a soft bite of your teeth, “Just indulging.”

“I see.”

She murmurs and squeaks once you let your hands join the party. Kneading and massaging her breasts while you shift yourself down to the line of her collarbone, inhaling the leftover aroma of sex from the previous night. Her hand’s quick to the back of your head, tugging hair while you let your right hand jump down to her hip. A move of the sheets, to open things up, and your mouth shifts in between the cleavage, getting lower.

Julie putting legs together was a futile effort, sliding along her luscious thighs while your tongue streamed down her abs. The grip of her fingers got a little tighter, closer to desperate.

“Enjoying your fun?”

“Very.”

Your eyes lock on to that tattoo that hugs above the hard bone of her hip. It's a simple design: an anchor. The meaning of it is something that she never got around to explaining, feeling the ink across the pad of your thumb before smothering it in a string of kisses, to where she laughs at the silly feeling. Your hands curve up her waist, while your head is at her belly, descending down even more to where you're hovering right above the designated area you’ve set your sights on.

A check of the clock in a quick glance, and it reads nine-thirty. There’s definitely some extra time to waste before starting the day.

Juile lets in a sharp inhale when you get yourself comfortable, arms underneath her legs, parting them. She sees the glint in your eyes when you’ve finally started to bring the trail of kisses from her inner thigh upwards, anticipating for what’s to come. You can tell that her vision is getting hazy, a cross-eyed gaze that only pushes you to absolutely ruin her, and hold your end of the deal.

“Have I ever told you,” you start, a teasing kiss to her folds, “how amazing your body is?”

“I don’t think you’ve told me explicitly, but showed in other ways.” she replies, propping herself up with an elbow and a heel down to your spine.

That’s your Julie.

You press her down, from the waist, a harsh suck on the clit, and get the first few samples of her addicting slick down your mouth. She sucks in her gut right underneath your fingers, and you hum in approval.

Pulling away, licking your upper lip, and some of her bed hair gets in front of her face, heaving. “And by the way,” you tell her, “I”m getting you back with the whipped cream this time.”

She nods, knowing well that it’s pointless for her to fight the foreshadowed climaxing sounds coming out of her mouth with the back of her hand.

–

Julie brings out a side of you that only seems to really bloom fully when she’s around. It’s something that never really gets acknowledged, let alone be brought up in moments where you’re truly at your most vulnerable state - the side where all of these hardships and struggles in being a good person, blinded by perfection, all seem to wash away from the touch of her hands and lips, combined with the reassuring words of encouragement.

That said side truly blossoms when you genuinely feel the intimacy above what the mind wants you to think. Aside from all the hand-holding, arms linked, stolen kisses while waiting at the red lights, sharing bites of the same food order, tearing away skin in little nips, the sex itself escalated a lot more than just sheer lust taking over both of you. It’s above than just the regular conventional fucking.

So you bring it back to where you and her unpacked all of the bottled up feelings:

On the couch, but this time at your place rather than hers. By literal unpacking, when you sink your cock inside, the relief of her walls clamping down around you, moaning out alternating expletives and your name, letting her body go limp as you increase the pace, pounding her senseless, have the raw urge to just get rough and pin her down in this spot where she’s supposed to be. You’ll want to be locked away with just her for no one else to see, to have her all to yourself; it’ll be selfish of you, but she’d agree where your head is leveled.

“It’s not even all that special- ah-” she blurts out while you have your hands cuffed to the back of her shoulders, leaning in to place a languid kiss across the fine column of her neck. You’re fucking out all the sounds and whines out of her, bottoming out every drive in, her legs rest just above your backside ankles stacked - your mind is already frizzled out, and so is hers, pulling ever fiber inside your muscles and bones into getting her astonishingly destroyed, “it’s just- your cock is- fuck- fucking perfect.”

She’d want you to be gentle sometimes, but when it’s rough? Oh man, you’ll let the actions speak louder than your fucking words.

“In through your nose, Juile,” you whisper with a bump to her forehead, holding her down at the waist while your hips aim tried and true, into the hottest spot deep in her cunt where you can reach, “That’s it baby, there we go. Just be pretty for me, like this. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Ugh,” she huffs, letting her eyelids drop finally when you’ve made her reach that euphoric sensation first, gasping when she feels a hand wrap lightly around the jaw, forcing her mouth open, a few broken sounds get let out, panting. Her back arches while you slip your other arm under, and manage to drive your cockhead even deeper - it's a new feeling of bliss that has you in disbelief. “More, please-”

She is so- so slick around your cock. A dam of an orgasm within you and her just waiting to finally break. You keep the motion going: pull your hips out, and drive back in. Pull your hips a bit further out the second time, and the snap of your thighs hitting has her crying. It’s mind numbing; you’ve lost your composure with her the first time fucking your feelings out to her, and it’ll be like this for as long as you’re together. She could ruin you like right now - in the next day, week, month; hell, for the foreseeable future. The notion in itself is already devastating to think while this girl beneath you is shuddering, as you’re pounding her ruthlessly, pulling her hips back to yours, coaxing her worked pussy well past the brink to the point where you’re hearing your own heartbeat thumping in between your ears.

“You’re so good…” she croons, lifting her head up bareilly to kiss you, get a few nails dragging along your back, let the pain soothe the filthy fuck you’re giving her. “Please, just– like that, god, fuck me, more, more-”

“Shh.”

Some things in life are better left unsaid.

“I want to be yours before I go.” she whimpers, sounding off depressingly - like she’s unwilling to cope with the fact of leaving you. Her eyes are glassy, begging almost - like this was the one fear she’s afraid to live out when the time comes.

The sobs mix in with the slaps. She’s reduced to much less than a puddle, all worn out and exhausted, reaching out in desperation, keeping you close. You and her are so flushed, the stifling warmth could make you sick.

“Baby,” you breathe, a fast and tender kiss to give her all the reassurance that she’ll ever need. “You’re not- I’m never letting you go. Not now, not ever.”

By the time she’s whining and writhing and spilling out these bittersweet sobs, rocking your cock down the crevice until you’re fucking your load right down her gut. You’re hunched over, fingers digging into the two small divots below the small of her back, hips bucking, a culmination - a nod, callback, homage, whatever you’d like to call it. You’ll leave your sentiment here, along with your heart, pulsing every beat out until the strokes get slow, lethargic.

Until you finally lay to rest with a kiss to her temple.

You tilt your face, let the breath graze across hers. Her hands are clasped together, your thumb pulling a bit of her hair away from her cheek. She’s shaking a bit, chest heaving but calming as the seconds pass on the clock.

“I was always yours.” This was the lasting resolve you’ve had with Julie, “from the very start.” You’re muttering while she’s knitting her eyebrows, trying to take time to recuperate, fluttering her eyes open that tears down the final wall within your chamber.

She tries to form something within the rows of her teeth, and though it might not be recognizable to your ear canals, you press your forehead against hers again, letting that lazy smile do damage for the thousandth time since she got here. Drink in the moment while the crickets start singing their patchy tones.

“It’s you,” she says, tiredly. “It’s always been you.” She’s softly laughing while you’re peppering her with kisses, and she’s quick to get both of her hands on opposite ends of your face, having one for herself because she’s selfish. “No one else even comes close.”

Finally closing her eyes, you pull a soft smile, internalizing what was just said.

–

The agenda is running blanks - you’re stuck doing the usual, daily routine that you’ve built a proper consistency with. Sometimes, it feels like you’re running a rerun of that one annoying sitcom your dad plays to serve as background noise while doing chores around the house.

In other words, it’s been a little bit dry.

“You never really told me,” you tell her, leaning back against the car while squinting through your sunny’s, staring up at the building in front of you. “I’ve always wondered if you’d take the chance to teach a class here in your free time.” The building, that is, Julie’s old dance studio; one of a few places that has served a pivotal purpose in your friendship and relationship with her. She tells you that you would’ve done a few things well if you had chosen to pursue the same passion as her years ago, and you laugh at that.

“Something to consider,” she starts. Walking back towards the car while you sigh and have an eyebrow lifted. “Think they’d take me in when I’m supposed to lay low for the time being?”

“Talk about laying low when everyone knows you’re back in town.” You shrug.

“I might just do it.”

“Then go for it.”

You pass her a drink that was bought from one of her favorite spots just five minutes down the street, puts the refreshing taste down her throat before returning the cup.

“I’ve only got a few more days,” Julie says, twisting your attention from your phone back to her. And once again, you’re reminded. You’ve known the stakes long before she even arrived here. The low burst of a bus passing by, a daunting noise you'll hear again once you drop her off at the airport when it happens. “The company wants me back to finalize a few things before the next project.”

“Right,” you nod, remembering clearly about the short topic when she brought it up the other day. “Can’t be a show if they don’t have their star present to make it happen.”

Julie shifts a shoulder, tilting her head and prompting you to walk with her. There wasn’t anywhere else to go in this town, and you’ve done the lot. At this point, you’re just enjoying the quality time spent well with her.

And it gets you wondering - probably the fine line between delusion and deep thought about: What would it be like if she didn’t become famous in the first place? Would she pursue other endeavors besides doing dancing and music that she could be proud about? What if it didn’t work out back then, and she had to come back here? None of those things really matter unless she tried, and look what happened; she did try, and she made it.

It’s after all these years of building her own life, you realize again, that even though there's that apparent gap of leaving you in the dark for all this time, she’s still the same - deep down, in this very moment where no one else sees her as this superstar, but a regular person. A person, to you, that has grown much more than what you could have ever imagined possible. The list of things in your mental checklist has filled up to the point where the paper roll in would have to be extended, maybe stapled to a stack.

You hit the jackpot in the roulette love-life that some are very lucky to have. That longtime childhood friend-next-door neighbor turned to lover seems very make-believe and cliché if put in writing, but you’ll fill the blank journal page of that story somewhere down the line.

(An idea, or, ideas - for the topic of that entry, start forming. Maybe it’s a good thing to set some time aside to rewrite that empty draft completely.)

She’s here now, she’ll be gone soon; but the unchanging fact is that you’ll be her strongest supporter. An act of affection that doesn’t really need to be said out loud, and you’re cheering her on even if she’s begging to stay in this town. You love her and what she does; you’ll love her even if there’s some distance between you two.

Love. You blurt out while zoning out to the small skyline, it’s such a funny concept to think about. Even if–

“What was that?” Julie asks, stopping in place while you’re suspended on the sidewalk. “Did you say something?”

And, some things in life are meant to be said.

“I love you.” The own voice in your throat sounds unnatural, like a spirit possessed you into saying it. You clear your throat, not willing to hide away from anything - especially her. “I’ve always loved you. Didn’t you know that?”

Julie turns her body square to you, a tilt of her head, inquisitively, lightly scrunching her face at what you just confessed, admitted - determining if you just committed perjury at this very moment. All she did after a second was nod in agreement, looking you in the eyes that tell a whole lot more, “Yeah, I knew that.”

You cringe, throwing the most gummy grin at her imaginable. She laughs, walking forward with a small hand slap to your chest. It’s silly, cute, and so sweet. This girl has weaved into your heart, threading it so tightly that everyone else outside your little bubble knows that you’re hers. A keepsake, one of many.

“Think you can handle missing me?” she asks, hand on your cheek - and this time you’re the one leaning into her touch. “From the looks of it, you’re gonna be struggling. Like, a lot.”

“Tsk,” and you’re rolling your eyes while she starts to walk again, “I worry, like a normal person should.”

“What’s there for you to worry about?” Julie asks you with her hands stacked behind her back, “until then, we’ve got all the time in the world. Now c’mon!”

She grabs you by the hand, and you’re left smiling since it’s been something to be fine with. Because at the end of it all, she’s always right.

Best believe that you won’t forget it.

// i hope you enjoyed!! wanted to pop in here to say a quick massive thank you for all the amazing support since my debut so far. it genuinely means the world to me and I appreciate you guys from the bottom of my heart. much love to everyone, stick around for more, and stay healthy <333 //

#julie smut #julie #kiof julie #kiof smut #kiof julie x male reader #male reader smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfic

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sserpente · 3 months ago

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Checkmate

“You know, maybe we should play strip chess instead. I think I would be motivated to win if I could get you naked!”

“Strip chess?” Sylus’ eyebrows shot up. He blinked, observing you wordlessly for a moment. “Very well. Let’s take this up a notch. You lose one piece of clothing for every piece you lose in the game.”

A/N: What’s this? Another red-eyed, pale-skinned and silver-haired morally grey man? Might as well.

Words: 1386 Warnings: smut

You made it a point to sigh. Loudly. With your chin propped up on your elbows, you were sitting across from Sylus on the bed in your pyjamas, a chessboard in between you creating more distance from him than you wanted.

“Are you going to hyperventilate, kitten? This is the third time you’re sighing like this.”

“This is boring, Sylus.”

“Ah, you didn’t hear me complaining after ten long rounds of Kitty Cards, now did you?” He didn’t look up as he spoke. His crimson eyes were fixed on the chequered game board but his voice was not without that teasing tone that always drove you mad and never failed to turn you into a horny mess. Especially now, with how casually he was sitting on the bed with crossed legs and clad in comfortable clothes.

“The chess pieces aren’t meowing at me, it’s not the same. You know I’m bad at chess.”

“Then you’ll get better.” He made his move—and unfortunately, it didn’t mean much to you. You barely remembered the names of all the different pieces but you hadn’t wanted to turn him down when he asked for a round. Time spent with him was rare due to your different sleep schedules, and your visits to the N109 zones were even rarer. Things would change soon. But until then, you’d soak up every minute you could get with him. Even if he wanted to play chess. Even if it was boring as fuck.

“It’s your turn, kitten.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m thinking.” Another sigh. This time, Sylus chuckled in response.

“How do I move this piece again?” You pointed at the chess piece resembling a horse, tilting your head innocently.

“Kitten…” Oh, now that was a reproachful kitten.

“I forgot! I’m sorry, I can’t help it but chess is so boring.” You paused, thinking. “You know, maybe we should play strip chess instead. I think I would be motivated to win if I could get you naked!”

“Strip chess?” Sylus' eyebrows shot up. He blinked, observing you wordlessly for a moment. “Very well. Let’s take this up a notch. You lose one piece of clothing for every piece you lose in the game.”

You frowned and looked down on yourself. Perhaps you should have thought this through first. Sylus was wearing a light jacket, socks, a shirt, a pair of trousers, and likely underwear. You on the other hand had only two pieces of clothing on you—a silk pyjama set with the night sky and embroidered stars on it, a gift from him the first time you returned to the N109 zone to stay with him for a few days. It had been waiting for you on the king-size bed in the guest room. You almost chuckled. You’d never slept in that bed until this day.

“Having second thoughts?” he mused.

You shook your head. “No. Let’s keep playing. It was my turn, yeah?”

He blinked once as if to say yes, his expression so amused you wanted to sigh yet again. This time, however, you really did put some effort in. If you beat him, he’d be sitting across from you naked. So if you moved your pawn over there…

“I’m done.”

“Are you sure?”

“What do you mean ‘are you sure’? Don’t make me second-guess myself!”

“Very well…” He moved another piece himself and chuckled. “There goes your knight, sweetie.”

“Ugh! What?”

“Come now. You set up the rules yourself.”

You glared at him and aggressively took your pyjama top off to throw it at his face where it landed with a thud before falling into his lap. His amused grin was even more irritating than the complexity of this silly game. He had the reflexes to catch the piece of clothing. He could have. He simply decided not to. Ugh.

“There. Happy?”

You had hopes that sitting in front of him topless would distract him enough to make a mistake but who were you kidding? Even if he did make a mistake, you were nowhere near skilled enough to beat him at this game. Sylus knew that very well. You’d just hoped that you could snatch up enough of his pieces to see him naked again.

But the stern leader of Onychinus was nothing if not composure personified. He didn’t even bat an eyelash at your half-naked form even though you could clearly tell it did not leave him unaffected. His crimson eyes raked over your breasts and your hardening nipples due to the cool temperatures in his bedroom.

A few moments later though, he moved another piece. Sylus chuckled. “Checkmate.”

You gasped, your eyes darting back down to the chessboard. “What? How?”

“You’ve been focused on your queen too much. Now your king has nowhere left to go. See?” He pointed at the two pieces that cornered your white king. How annoying.

“That’s not fair! You tricked me!”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You backed me into a corner!”

“You didn’t pay attention.”

“That’s impossible considering I’m topless and you’re still wearing all of your clothes! Was there even a way out?”

“There was.”

“But…but…ugh!”

Sylus raised an eyebrow and gave you a toothless grin. “I’m waiting.” He gestured at your pyjama bottoms.

“For what? The game is over, you’re still wearing all of your clothes and I’m still bored.”

Sylus laughed. “And you lost yet another piece. Don’t be a sore loser, sweetie.”

“I’m…not!” Cursing him under your breath you leaned back and shrugged off your pyjama bottoms without taking your eyes off him. It wasn’t nearly as sexy as you had hoped for it to be but beggars couldn’t be choosers. “This really didn’t go according to plan…”

“Your ‘plans’ never do, kitten.”

You scoffed. “Now what?”

“Now? You let me admire the view and revel in my triumph.”

“You’re impossible.”

Sylus chuckled. “You’ll find I’m very much possible. Come here.”

Now that was something he didn’t need to tell you twice. You crawled over to him fast, ignoring how the remaining chess pieces fell off the board in the process and made yourself comfortable on his lap. Sylus cradled your naked form in his arms as if you were a fragile porcelain doll. Your eyes fell shut almost automatically when he kissed your forehead.

His hands were less innocent. They ghosted over your exposed skin raising goose bumps where they went. It was sheer luck he didn’t tease you for how quickly your legs fell open when one of them travelled lower and lower, over your breasts and your hard nipples, your stomach and eventually…between your legs to where your body wanted him the most.

“Naughty little kitten, have you been this wet for me the whole time?”

You hummed in agreement, rubbing your nose against the crook of his neck.

Testing the waters, his long fingers started rubbing and caressing your outer lips until they slid between them with ease to tease your clit. Probing and exploring, working you up for him until he had you gushing and whimpering in his lap.

“Why…why were we playing chess if…if we could have just done this…the whole time…instead?”

“As much as I enjoy our…intimate moments, I do place value on spending intellectually stimulating time with you too, kitten.”

“Now you’re…making it sound like I’m…sex-crazed…around you…” Your panting increased, an all too familiar knot tightening in your lower belly.

Sylus laughed. “You’re not. Although…I wouldn’t blame you after getting that first taste.”

“You’re impossible,” you breathed out again. The words were followed by a moan. Sylus slid two fingers into your slick warmth, curling them inside you all the while his thumb kept caressing your clit. Shit, you were so close…so close…

“Sylus…”

“What is it, kitten? Tell me…”

“I’m…I will…oh shit…”

“Come for me,” he growled into your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

He didn’t need to tell you twice. You let go and fell, your orgasm rippling through you like pure electricity. Your wet walls tightened around his long fingers as he helped you ride it out and relish the taste of every last wave of pleasure consuming you. You kept clenching around rhythmically as that feeling of pure bliss slowly ebbed away again, leaving you breathless in his arms.

“Next time…” you choked out of breath, “…we’re playing UNO.”

Sylus chuckled. “As you wish, kitten.”

#sylus imagine #sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus love and deepspace #sylus #sylus lads #love and deepspace #lads

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 10 months ago

Text

It's a Match! || 141 x reader

[ Chapter 1 ] || [ Chapter 3 ]

Pairing: Soap x Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1K~ cw: a bit of dirty talking/innuendos Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you?

Chapter 2: Johnny

“Oh, hello…” You remarked to yourself as your eyes locked into a stunning pair of blue eyes on your screen, stopping your mindless right-swipping. “...Johnny.”

“You’re 29… A soldier… Scottish… Are you friends with Kyle?” You mused playfully. “Let me guess, you’re a gym bro, aren’t you?” You asked sarcastically as you tapped your finger on the right side, skipping through his pictures. The first one immediately after was him lifting while wearing a weightlifting belt. “Yup… Mandatory gym pic.”

Chuckling to yourself, you snap a screenshot of his profile to the girls as well, sending it quick.

leah: @/mia Whatever good energy you sent its working. second hot guy in the last 5 minutes! mia: i lit a CANDLE for this!!!!! leah: there weren’t any handsome guys like this when i was on tinder?! 😫 UNFAIR. 🙄 you: blow it out then cause this is the 3rd actually. leah: 3rd??? Where’s number 2??? you: didn’t think to snap a screenshot. hasn’t matched me back yet. mia: has he posted a shirtless pic? you: kyle did and this one idk but probably. need to check. leah: Don’t forget to send it over.🥴

Shaking your head and laughing in amusement, you went back to Tinder, checking on ‘Johnny’. The mandatory gym pic was there… a couple of them in fact! And then the mandatory shirtless selfie. Or rather… The mandatory shirtless SELFIES. Plural.

Three of them… The first one was him just straight up wearing just a towel… And the next was him in a kilt… And the next was him with a button-up very much so unbuttoned.

“Oh, my, Johnny-John-John… You sure know how to woo a bird…” You joked to yourself.

You dragged your finger down to check his bio and immediately frowned. “Of course…” You trailed off with a disappointed frown as you snuck another spring roll into your mouth.

He might be stupidly attractive, but his personality… Gosh, he doesn’t know how to sell himself. Boring, boring, boring. “I work out and like video games!” You quipped mockingly and scoffed a bit.

“Artist.” You remarked when you reached the last of his profile’s tags, spotting that word in the hobby section. “An artist? You?” You asked your phone screen as if Johnny would come alive in it and answer you.

You’d admit, him calling himself an artist was intriguing enough, but normally that wouldn’t be enough to make you Swipe Right on him… But you’re not under normal circumstances. You promised your friends you’d Swipe Right on everyone so…

Your phone almost dropped out of your hand as soon as the ‘It’s a Match’ screen showed. “Of course… He’s probably swiping right on everyone as well…” Rolling your eyes, you go to click off the screen but accidentally enter DMs.

Johnny: ye have any scottish in you? you: not that i know of. Johnny: would ye like to? 🫦 Johnny: wait. wdym not that ye know of??? Johnny: i was trying to be filthy and now got me curious bonnie

“Fuckin’ hell…” You said as you set down your phone and covered your face before breaking into a fit of giggles.

The fact you had accidentally ruined his pick-up line and succeeded in stumping him got you very, very amused. Okay, maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as boring as you thought.

you: story for another time. you: i walked right into that one tho. good job. Johnny: no ye cant do that Johnny: gotta tell me all about it now you: i mean werent scottish people everywhere in the uk at one point? you: i might be 1/370232103484320th scottish. Johnny: would ye like some MORE scottish in ye then? 🫦 you: solid attempt again. you: if you keep trying you might just get there. Johnny: i intend to dont worry you: soooo… Johnny: so? you: were you wearing underwear under the kilt? Johnny: no Johnny: why want a peek? 😏 you: i’m good you: so ur an artist? Johnny: i am Johnny: ur fast at typing fuck you: what kind? you: keep up then! Johnny: drawing Johnny: im trying 🥴 you: can i see some? Johnny: hanging with my mates difficult to text fast 😤 Johnny: idk if ull be in the mood to see anything after im done with ye you: why? 🤨 Johnny: might be too tired and need to be cuddled to sleep 😏 you: oh fuck off. Johnny: u just cursed me out Johnny: i think m in love 😫 Johnny: gonna tell my mates i just met my spouse 🥴🥴 you: don’t give them any ideas. you: haven’t even agreed to meet up with you. you: haven’t been invited in the first place. Johnny: meet up with me 🙏 Johnny: meet up with me 🙏 Johnny: meet up with me 🙏 Johnny: meet up with me 🙏 Johnny: meet up with me 🙏

Your eyes widened at his enthusiasm and persistence. Okay, he was definitely not boring… It was actually kind of endearing and funny!

you: jc r u copypasting that? Johnny: yes Johnny: are ye going to or not you: can i get back to you on that? Johnny: ill wait for ye you: sure you do that johnny Johnny: ow the sarcasm burns

Concealing a chuckle, you clicked off the DMs page for the second time tonight… but, this time, you closed the app and focused on eating dinner.

Sure, this whole dating app thing was stupid, but at least you were enjoying yourself.

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danrifics · 4 months ago

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good morning i have slept a total of 2 hours here’s my spoiler breakdown for terrible influence antwerp

they start by playing a text to speech voice who welcomes us and the straight boyfriends and the dads (they’re a bit obsessed with the dads i’ll be real) the voice tells us if we film she’s gonna sue are asses. text to speech lady she is an icon

dnp come out and they’re like yo this is cool it’s the first show, you guys are gonna see what we’ve been up to and then they’re like it’s the first show so we can use you guys to decide if we change anything

they they’re like there’s probably people in the audience who don’t really know us so they do a 15 years of dan and phil lore breakdown with dolls of themselves in little set of iconic dnp locations (made by pj and sophie btw) they put these sets in a table in front of a camera and it shows on the big screen, (for 1 section of this the screen doesn’t work for the first part lol) also phil makes the dolls kiss and they also make the dolls hump the breakfast bar cos of course they do

i can’t remember what happens next or maybe it jumps right into the next thing i mention

they play a game show called role model or no-model which is a madlibs style game where you have to decide if the version of dan and phil the audience creates is a role model or not these are compared to real dnp. we had homophobic furry lawyer dan and linguistics dr phil wo has a thing for hamsters. just an fyi for this dan is really good at hearing what the audience is saying and phil is not at all and im pretty sure he made his up cos he couldn’t understand what we wanted

okay so after this iirc they start talking about the youtube landscape and what they’re gonna do after tour and how to keep people entertained and they go on a little adventure through different genres of youtube like minecraft lets plays, vtubers and then they pretend to be mr beast and pretend to give away a bunch of stuff that they don’t have, they cure us of any mental health issues and they cure us from being gay <3

then they decide to have a boxing match cos obvs that’s what youtubers do, they ask us to cheer for whoever they want to win and it has cool intro to it! i’ll be honest this boxing match goes on for entirely too long like it spans the end of the first half and the start of the second but they have like choreographed fighting and OMFG it’s very gay and like suggestive and they do many times look like they’re gonna have sex 😂 like one of phils moves is to hit dan with his ass while dan is holding him from behind so… yeah. anyway dan thought he won ours and then phil knocked him out with a tv, as he should!! also before they end the first half they’re having an insult match where phils tells dan hes gonna burn his house down only for dan to say they live in the same house and i was dying it was so funny, phil also calls dan a dickhead and this is where he also calls him a cunt and that’s how the first half ends. oh also phil has a fake 6 pack on and that’s the $300 dollar silicone btw

okay second half after dan is dead they have a sincere moment and then they’re like you guys keep telling us you want load of long unedited content and they ask us to tell them a topic to monologue about and someone shouts feet and they rant about feet lmao phil excitedly tells everyone he has a better wiki feet rating than dan

then dan goes on a rant about being discriminated against as a millennial (can’t remember how we got there) and phil gets bored and starts watching subway surfers and i’ll be real honest as a gen z i instantly got distracted by subway surfers and didn’t listen to what dan was saying (that was the point tho) and phil keeps turning up the volume and dan gets mad and he storms off

we have a nice sincere moment with phil but idk what tf it was cos neither did phil 😂

then suddenly a voice, oh here she comes, she asks if we’re ready to confess our sins and out comes sister daniel, everyone fucking loses it, if you heard me screaming so loud no you didn’t.

anyway they read some confessions (phil is father philip) and they read out a few including one from @dnphobe !!! phil has a water gun that he didn’t have when he was meant to and couldn’t find and then found and he was spraying it at people to cleanse them of their sins which is what they meant by people being in the splash zone btw also phil sprayed it at dan it was kinda cute

okay so they say they need to go and get changed and they head off stage and there’s a gag where they leave the microphone on and they’re purposely making it sound sexual and it’s so funny and then dan comes out and phil doesn’t cos he’s struggling with his leather fucking trousers that was a completely unscripted part for sure

then they talk about the hiatus a bit and how dan left us and they keep calling us their family and brb while i cry my eyes out

then they pull out a fucking banger of a song, like i can’t even explain to you how good it is, it has a fully like kpop style dance to it that im gonna fucking learn lmao and dan was so good at it like im not even kidding that man was pulling moves!! phil was doing great too btw but he definitely wasn’t as confident in it as dan was but damn it’s the best song yet imo!!

also i forgot to write the conspiracy bit because i forgot where in the show it is but on one of them they were trying so hard to make us say the opposite one but we were literally forcing tour bus on them and yes they confirmed they shared a bed on that tour bus!! and they played it off like its okay for friends to do that (cos it is) but they way they said it was that thing again where they blur the line a little so we know what they actually mean but still pretend they mean something else

okay some little things i remember that i didn’t write above

- “i can’t imagine my life without you”

- “it’ll be 15 years in december” (if you know you know)

- the absolute silence after they confirmed the bed thing cos none of us were actually expecting it

- dan had to prompt phil a little to remind him what to say next but it was very cute

- they kept looking at each other in *that* way

- phil lied to us about when norman died cos he had norman merch coming out

- sleepless night with phil 3 is fake!!

- they showed *that* video of phil asleep on the tour bus

- there were multiple times where i thought they’re gonna kiss right now???

-phil called dan kinda sexy

- ALL IS FORGIVEN, ANYTHING FROM THE LAST WE MIGHT HAVE DONE IS FORGIVEN THEY LOVE US WE ARE A FAMILY THEY ARE LITERALLY OUR DADS

#titspoilers #dan and phil #phan

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saintzweig · 15 days ago

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i came across a video of that one trend from 2020/21 where you try to kiss your best friend for the first time and that's like ... so art donaldson coded. the two of you being really close and touchy with each other but never really thinking anything romantic of it, you were just so comfortable and safe in each other's presence and you never really thought about how other people might see it.

until a friend of yours pointed out how art stares at you whenever you're talking, his eyes full of admiration and the way his body leans towards you, giving you full attention. everybody can see how he acts like a puppy in love except you, until you saw it yourself. your friend's words echoed in your mind, making you too aware of how art acts around you.

now you're overthinking about how he might feel about you and vice versa, so your friend suggested you kiss him, out of nowhere. see how he responds and how you feel about it. what if it goes wrong? what if he doesn't want you to kiss him? "just set up a camera and if it goes badly, tell him it's for a stupid tiktok"

and maybe you were the stupid one for taking their advice, but you're here now. the two of you on the couch, art focused on his video game and you staring at the your phone that was propped up on the coffee table. you have nothing to lose, it's not like you're gonna end up losing your most valued friendship for a kiss and jumping to conclusions ...

with a sigh, you finally decide to just get on with it. calling out his name softly to catch his attention but his eyes remain glued to the screen infront of you, "hm?"

"can you look at me? i need to tell you something" your play with your fingers nervously on your lap.

he stays silent for a few seconds, only the sounds of him fidgeting with the controller can be heard. "can it wait, angel? i'm nearly done here"

and you almost agreed, but then you're going to have to hype yourself up all over again just to get it over with. so without warning, you grab his face with your hands and pull him closer towards you, placing your lips against chapped ones. your eyes were closed shut and you were stiff against him, you're certain his eyes are wide open in shock. you pull away after a few seconds, a soft smack filling the awkward air.

the eye contact that followed felt like hell, you can feel your face getting hot and red while art looked like he just saw a ghost.

"i– uh, i'm sorry that was for–" before you can even point at your phone, he drops the controller and grabs your waist, almost pushing you down on the sofa as he reconnects your lips once more. his lips now softer and the kiss tender, your fingers finding its own way through his blonde curls.

he rests his forehead against yours once he pulled away, the two of you catching your breath before bursting into laughter. "i think we're gonna have to keep doing that more often"

#art donaldson #ughfhgjjgjghghgn i hope this is okay #i think the concept is cute but the writing not so much #challengers x reader #challengers blurb #art donaldson x reader #saintzweig writes ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

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captainsophiestark · 7 months ago

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Miscommunication

Kol Mikaelson x Reader

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Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Summary: You've finally worked up the courage to ask Kol on a date, but with all the people who've been trying to kill him lately, he jumps to the wrong conclusion about what's being asked of him. Set right after TVD "A View To A Kill", if Jeremy didn't succeed in killing Kol.

Word Count: 2,517

Category: Fluff, Humor

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Hello, love. I wasn't expecting to get a call from you."

I grinned at the voice of the youngest Mikaelson brother coming through the other end of the phone. I'd met him at the Grill a few weeks ago, and we'd pretty much immediately hit it off. I'd been trying to work up the courage to ask him out ever since, and after overhearing his siblings talking about how close he'd come to dying recently, I'd decided to stop wasting time and just give him a call.

"Hi Kol. Uh, I know this is kind of out of the blue, but... well, I wanted to see if you wanted to maybe get together at some point and... talk. Hang out. All that... stuff..."

I grimaced. I'd never done this before, and it was probably painfully obvious, especially to a vampire with a literal thousand years of experience.

"You want to get together and talk?" asked Kol, a lilt to his voice that I couldn't quite decipher. Everything in me screamed that I should bail out, but I grit my teeth and forced myself to toughen up.

"Yeah. If that's something you'd want to do."

"Oh, it very much is." My heart stopped. I'd been sure this call was about to be a total fumble, but apparently, somehow it'd worked? "What did you have in mind?"

"Uh..." I mentally kicked myself. I'd spent so much time trying to work up the nerve to actually call him, I hadn't thought at all about what I would do if he actually said yes. "Well, I don't know. Is there anywhere you'd especially like to meet up? Or anything you'd like to do?"

"How about your house?" The doorbell rang. "Right now?"

My brain short circuited. He was here? Now? I wasn't ready at all! The house was fairly clean, and I didn't look like a total mess, but I also wasn't ready for a date! And wasn't a first date supposed to be about thirty degrees more chill and removed, like a going to a movie or dinner or something?

I forced myself to take a deep breath. Yes, this was technically a first date, but Kol and I had interacted before. We were friendly, maybe even friends. It's not like he was some stranger I was about to let into my home.

"Uh, sure. Now is... now is good. I take it you're the one at my door?"

"Yes I am, darling."

"Okay. Well, then... I guess I'll see you in a second."

I hung up the phone before I could make any more of a fool of myself, paused at the mirror in the hallway to quickly adjust my outfit, then strode confidently to the front door. If I pretended to be confident, it would probably rub off and turn into the real thing, right?

I swung open my door to find a grinning Kol on the other side, one arm raised and resting against the doorframe. My heart did a little backflip at that, and I just hoped his vampire senses hadn't clued him in on it.

"Well? Aren't you going to invite me in?"

"Oh! Right, yeah, come on in, Kol."

He grinned at me as he slowly, deliberately put one foot over the threshold, then the other. He paused once he officially stood in my house, facing me with a look like he expected me to have some kind of reaction. I just gave him a smile.

"Welcome in. Uh, I'll be honest, I wasn't really prepared for you to come over, like, now. But we can make some drinks, maybe play a board game or something? I actually think I have an at-home dart board buried somewhere around here if you want to get your ass kicked like you did the first time we met."

Kol huffed a laugh, a smaller, more genuine smile pulling onto his face as he shook his head at me.

"Well, now we have to play, don't we? I can't let my honor be tarnished without fighting back."

"I think it only counts as tarnishing your honor if it's not true," I mused as I led Kol into the kitchen, incredibly aware of how closely he followed behind me. If vampires could hear heart beats, then I was well and truly screwed.

"Exactly. I didn't get my ass kicked in darts, so what you said wasn't true."

I paused long enough to give Kol a judgey look over my shoulder, then walked around to the cabinets behind the kitchen island.

"Alright, I'll go dig out the dartboard in a minute, but let's figure out drinks first. I'll be honest, I'm not the best bartender, but I'll see what I can do."

"Here, let me. I'm an excellent bartender."

Kol reached for the bottles in my hand, but I paused, holding them slightly away from him. He leaned into me, and my heart did its stupid jumping jacks again, although I ignored it. Instead, I fixed Kol with another look.

"Are you an excellent bartender in the way you're an excellent dart player? Or are you actually an excellent bartender?"

Kol shook his head, an edged smile spread on his face as he reached across me and took the bottles from my hands. I was more than a little disappointed when he pulled away.

"Alright, I'm going to make us some drinks while you go and get that dart board, right now. We're going to settle this, once and for all."

"I'm still not totally sure that I actually have it," I reminded him, walking backwards out of the kitchen. Kol just hummed, shooting me one last look as he got to work on the drinks before I turned the corner.

As soon as I was out of his sight, I paused to take a few deep breaths. I was starting to feel seriously giddy hanging out with him like this, and I needed to calm the hell down. It was a casual first date, after all. I didn't need to get ahead of myself.

Once the butterflies in my chest had settled down a bit, I walked the rest of the way to the hall closet, or what I thought of as my junk closet. It was packed with things that were just useful or sentimental enough that I didn't want to throw them away, but that basically never came in handy on a regular basis. If that dartboard someone had gotten me for my birthday a few years ago was anywhere, it would be here.

I dug through a few boxes I thought might be likely candidates, trying to remember where past me might've put things last time I'd organized everything. Finally, after what felt like way too much searching, I found it at the bottom of a box on a higher shelf. Even better, a bag with all the darts still together was with it.

I grinned, doing a little triumphant fist pump to myself before turning to head out of the closet. In the doorway, however, I found Kol hovering, watching me intently, a menacing air about him that hadn't been there earlier.

"Hey... what are you doing?" I asked. He raised an eyebrow at me and crossed his arms.

"Me? I was about to ask you the same thing, darling. It really took you that long to find the dart board?"

I furrowed my eyebrows at him, watching for any clues as to what the hell he was doing before briefly glancing away to check the time my phone. Honestly, it hadn't even been that long.

"I mean, yes? Have you looked around this closet at all since you got here? It's a mess. How long have you been standing there, anyway?"

"I'm not an idiot, sweetheart," he said instead of answering me, taking another step forward. I narrowed my eyes at him. "I know you're back here messaging your little friends, trying to set up another ambush for me after the first one didn't work. I know how you Mystic Falls people like to operate."

My frown deepened. "Kol, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Don't play innocent with me, darling, it won't work. So who have you been texting?"

"No one, other than you! I knew you were acting weird on the phone, and when you first showed up. I thought my nerves were just getting the better of me, but apparently not."

"Nerves for what? Don't tell me Jeremy's going to come bursting through the door playing Van Helsing again."

"Jeremy who, Kol? Seriously, I have no idea what you're talking about."

For the first time since he'd appeared in the closet doorway, Kol seemed to believe me. His look changed from borderline threatening to almost as confused as my own.

"Jeremy Gilbert."

I paused, trying to place the name. It sounded familiar, but it took me a little while to figure out why.

"That's... Elena Gilbert's little brother? Right?"

"Yes. You're actually trying to tell me you don't know him?"

I scoffed. "Kol, of course I don't know him. I graduated from high school when he was still in middle school. I barely remember him or his sister."

He studied me, eyes scanning my face, apparently looking for some sign of a lie. I just watched him back, waiting on some kind of explanation for this to make sense.

"So you're not working with Elena and her little group of friends, then? Or either of the Salvatores?"

"No, Kol. Working with them on what?"

"You're not lying."

"I know I'm not lying! Now what the hell are you talking about?"

Kol sighed, slumping back against the doorframe a little, the tension easing out of his body although he still looked a little confused. I could relate.

"Elena and Jeremy tried to kill me not too long ago," he said, as if he was saying they'd asked him for directions on the street. "Elena tried to keep me busy by lying about wanting to discuss a truce with me. I assumed this was a terrible second attempt at the same thing."

I sighed, shaking my head and closing my eyes for a beat as I leaned against the shelf behind me. I knew he was a vampire, and I'd even known someone had tried to kill him recently. But somehow, I'd underestimated the level of ridiculous drama and miscommunication that would likely create.

"Yikes. Well... I'm glad you survived, and I can honestly tell you that I'm not a part of any plot to try to kill you. I can't even remember the last time I talked to Elena, and the only time I've ever talked to either of the Salvatores was when Damon was drunk and hit on me at the Grill."

Kol snorted. "Sounds familiar."

"I'm sure."

The two of us stayed put, neither moving to stand up or leave the closet, neither speaking either. The silence just hung, and I had no idea what I was supposed to do next, so it was a relief when Kol leaned forward, the menace in his posture gone and replaced by tentative curiosity.

"You know, this leaves us with a very important question."

"And what's that?"

"If you weren't trying to drive a stake through my heart... why did you call me and ask to meet up?"

And just like that, the relief was replaced with sheer nervous panic.

"Uh... well..."

Kol grinned and took a few steps towards me.

"You said you wanted to get together and talk," he said, a teasing tone to his voice that made my heart speed up at the same time that it made me want to give him a shove. "What exactly did you want to talk about, if not murdering me?"

I shook my head, trying and failing to keep a smile off my face. Kol was well and truly in my space now, standing right in front of me, one arm over my head and leaning against the shelf behind me. Based on the grin he gave me when I met his eyes, I got the feeling he could hear my heart racing.

"I... Well, I was trying to ask you on a date."

"Were you now?" asked Kol, his shit eating grin doubling in size. I huffed.

"Yes. And it took a lot of effort to work up the courage to actually go through with it, so if you're just messing with me right now with the whole leaning into my space and flirting thing, I might actually join Team Try To Kill Kol."

Kol just laughed and shook his head, leaning in a little bit further as he did. I couldn't help a subconscious glance at his lips, and with the way they curled up even further, I knew he'd noticed.

"I'd never dream of messing with you about this, darling. Honestly, this is the best news I've gotten in days. If I hadn't been working to keep a few different people from killing me, I would've asked you out a week ago."

I grinned. "Really?"

"Absolutely."

I huffed a happy, disbelieving laugh as Kol leaned the rest of the way in, his lips finding mine. Fireworks exploded in my chest at the sensation, especially as he wrapped one arm around my waist and pulled me closer to him. My hands found his shoulders, holding on tightly, and when I finally pulled away after a few long, long moments, I was a little breathless and a little dizzy.

"Now that was worth thinking I was about to be vampire-slayed," said Kol, grinning at me before starting to lean in again. I laughed, but put a hand to his chest to stop him.

"I agree, but this is still a first date. I want to actually talk to you and get to know you beyond the few conversations we've had at the Grill, not just make out in my closet."

"You didn't like making out in the closet?"

"I didn't say that." Kol grinned, and I gave him an exasperated smile of my own. "I like this, Kol, a lot. But I could've just kept flirting at you with the Grill if all I wanted was to make out with you. Dates are supposed to be... a little more than that, at least to me."

Kol sighed, bringing his hand up to cup my chin and running his thumb across my lips before stepping back. My heart was doing backflips, and from the smirk on his face, I knew he could tell.

"Alright then, darling. I'll give your version of a date a try. As much as I like making out in closets, it might be nice to just talk to you for a bit, too."

I beamed at him. "Good. Although, it doesn't have to be all talk." I retrieved the dartboard that had been shoved back onto a shelf when Kol had first gotten in my space and held it up. "We have a few things to settle, after all."

"Oh yes we do. Come on love, our drinks are waiting in the kitchen. You're going to need one, so you have something to blame your loss on later tonight."

"Keep talking, Twilight. It's just gonna make it that much sweeter when I win."

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

TVD/TO Taglist: @elenavampire21

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scarletwinterxx · 2 months ago

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game boy - jeon wonwoo imagine

hiiiiiii ~ i know i'm not the only one kicking their feet whenever this man appears on the screen. I can't get him out of my mind (even if i try)😅😅hope you like it!

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All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

"Since when are you into gaming?" the voice from behind you asked, you immediately put your phone down as your roommate take the seat across from you.

A knowing smirk on her face.

"Since I was a kid, I'll have you know I'm a pro at building houses in Sims" the lie slides out so easy you almost thought your roommate believes it

"Oh so not because you think that gamer dude is cute?"

It's not the first time she's seen you watching his live, sometimes she can hear it from your room behind the closed door or your phone sitting on the counter as you wash dishes.

Maybe you really are into gaming or a bigger maybe you might be into the dude who's gaming.

"Who? Him? I just scrolled past his live, totally random" you shrug your shoulders

"Mhm, so I didn't hear you squeal last night when he went live after going on a break for a month?"

"How did you know he was on a break?" you ask

"How did YOU know?" she asks back. She caught you there, when you don't say anything she just laughs. "It's okay to admit if you're crushing on him, I'd understand. He's all yours though"

"I don't have a crush on him"

"Mhm and I'm not failing Spanish"

"You know what I'll leave you here, you need to study and I need to go" you tell her while you gather your stuff on the table, "You're not actually mad right?"

You chuckle at her question, "You weren't wrong so I can't be mad. Anyways, bye"

It took a few seconds for her to process what you just said, by the time she did you're already out the library.

You walk out the campus premises, the weather's great so you decided to just walk. You put on you're earphones and enjoy the scenery, your feet on auto-pilot ready and set to take you to your destination.

When you got to the building, you let your self in and giving the building's doorman a wave on your way to the elevator. You punch the code on the keypad to let yourself in, the inside of the apartment a stark contrast from the bright sun outside. The black out curtains are drawn making the room dark like it isn't 4pm right now.

You take your shoes off and put your stuff down before getting your phone to see if Wonwoo is streaming and sure enough he was.

He's also a student in your university, he streams when his schedule lets him. Whenever you're alone you let his videos play in the background, kind of like a white noise for you.

You get some snacks from the kitchen, then walk to the window to let some light in before getting comfortable in the living room while you finish some of your pending works.

After a while you hear Wonwoo say goodbye to the stream then the screen turns dark. You turn your phone off, putting it back down on the coffee table.

From down the hall, you hear the door open then footsteps coming towards the living room.

Wonwoo spots you immediately, sitting on the living room floor with books and notes infront of you and your phone lying on the side. You must've been watching him.

"Oh, when did you get here?" he smiles at you, walking towards where you were then taking the vacant space on the floor beside you. He sits sideways so he's facing you, legs resting on either side of you.

"Like 30 minutes ago, you were in the middle of your stream so I thought I should finish some of this" you point at the piles of paper infront of you before turning your attention back to him "You had fun? You probably missed streaming"

"It's fun, some of the viewers and a few followers asked where I was last month I just said I needed a break" he smiles back at you, tucking a few strands of hair back then giving your ear a pinch making you giggle at the action.

That short break was actually the two of going on a trip as your first anniversary celebration. He surprised you with a trip outside the country for two weeks, just in time for term break so it worked out fine.

He could've streamed while the two of you were away, he has a laptop he could bring or stream when you got back after the trip but instead he chose to spend that time with you. It was nice having his undivided attention. Not that he ever made you feel ignored, never.

"You'll break so many hearts when they find out you're not actually single" you let out a short laugh

"I never said I was, after our first date whenever someone asks if I'm single I would say no" he says to you

"1st date? but that was such a long time ago" you recall the memory of your first day. You've been crushing on him for a while, like since you first saw him, and by some miracle one day he asked you out on a date. The two of you went to the aquarium then dinner. He courted you for a while before the two of you became an official couple, but even before that you already know you weren't going to let go of him that easy.

Here you are now a year later.

"I know" he shyly admits.

"So what do you say? You just say you're taken?"

"Kinda, I don't like talking about my personal life online so I just answer in the most simple way. I never denied I had a girlfriend so I guess it's up to them if they didn't get it" he shrugs

"Huh, I didn't"

"Huh?"

"I watch your streams, guess I never caught on"

"You watch my streams? Until now?"

"Yeah, I like watching you. It's comforting, kinda like my own comfort show"

He knows you watch him, whether you're in the same room as him or here in his home or when you're back at your own place you always tune in his stream. You really are his biggest fan.

"You know my roommate is starting to catch on, she thinks I have a crush on this 'gamer dude'" you make air quotes at the nickname, this makes Wonwoo chuckle

"Do you now?" he teases

"Yea, I think he's kinda cute. Apart from that time he wore that black button up. I was ready to throw hands"

He laughs at that, remembering just how you barged in his gaming room after the stream ended.

"You're never letting that go are you?"

"Never, you looked so good I almost grabbed you out of the screen. Not fair they get to see how hot my boyfriend is"

Wonwoo blushes at your words. Those words being used to describe him isn't new to his ears, but it's different when you say it. He can feel the butterflies flutter in his stomach, something only you can do.

Not even the scariest game can make his heart race like you.

"Do you want do drop by on my next stream or whenever?"

"Drop by?"

"I mean like just... be there. If you wanna show your face it's okay but if you don't want to it's okay too. No pressure. I don't want you thinking any of those faceless names on my screen can ever replace you" letting the words tumble out one by one because your gaze is making him nervous

You just stare at him as he talks, slowly a smile forming on your face then you're attacking him with a hug

"You're so cute, you know that?" you mumble against his neck where your face was pressed against, he chuckles at your question. Tugging you closer to him until you're straddling his lap

"Just making sure you know"

"I know, I always know. Don't you worry about that, just do you okay? I'll be here right beside you always. No matter what it is you want to do"

And he knows that too. You've always been his cheerleader, the one who always talks him into things he never thought about doing. In a way, you brought him out of his comfort zone in the most comforting way. You being there always eased his mind.

He smiles at you again before closing the distance between the two of you, giving you a kiss like he's saying he missed you today or all those days you weren't with him. He just always makes you feel like you're meant to be there with him.

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fa1ry03 · 16 days ago

Text

Birthday Wishes

Author’s Note: Thanks so much for all the support on my first piece!!! This is my second, and I’m so excited to share it with you guys! Since Joe's Birthday is coming up, I decided to write a short piece. I hope y'all enjoy this celebration of Joe’s bday. Happy Birthday Joe! 💙🎉

Blurb about the piece: Celebrate Joe Burrow’s birthday with a day full of love, surprises, and passion. From a heartfelt breakfast in bed to a surprise party with friends, every moment is crafted to make him feel special. As the night winds down, tender gestures blend sweetness and spice for an unforgettable celebration.

(not proofread)

word count: 764

The first rays of sunlight streamed into the cozy Cincinnati home Joe Burrow shared with his partner, casting a warm glow across the room. Outside, the December chill hung in the air, but inside, the atmosphere was cozy and festive. Today wasn’t just any day—it was Joe's birthday.

You had been planning this day for weeks. Joe, humble as ever, insisted he didn’t need anything extravagant, but you knew better. A man like him, who poured his heart and soul into everything, deserved a day as special as he was.

You tiptoed into the kitchen, careful not to make too much noise and wake him. The plan was simple but heartfelt: start the day with a breakfast he’d love, give him a special message, and let the surprises unfold one by one.

The scent of sizzling bacon and brewing coffee soon filled the air. Alongside the bacon, you prepared his favorite fluffy scrambled eggs, buttery toast, and a side of fresh fruit. For an extra touch, you made blueberry pancakes, his guilty pleasure.

Once everything was plated, you quietly carried the tray into the bedroom. Joe was still asleep, his face relaxed and peaceful. You smiled, setting the tray on the bedside table.

“Joe,” you said softly, brushing a hand through his hair. “Happy birthday, sleepyhead.”

He stirred, blinking awake. As soon as he saw you and the tray, a sleepy smile spread across his face.

“Morning,” he said, his voice still raspy from sleep. “What’s all this?”

“It’s your birthday breakfast,” you said, sitting beside him. “Eat up—we’ve got a whole day ahead.”

Joe sat up, leaning against the headboard, and dug into the food. “You didn’t have to do all this,” he said between bites.

“Uh actually, I did. You only turn 28 once,” you teased, handing him a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.

After breakfast, you handed him a small envelope. He raised an eyebrow, intrigued, and opened it. Inside was a handwritten letter, carefully crafted to capture your admiration for him.

“Joe,” it began, “you are not only an incredible athlete but also the most kind-hearted and determined person I know. Watching you chase your dreams inspires me every day. You deserve all the success and happiness in the world, and I’m so lucky to celebrate this special day with you…”

He looked up at you, his eyes soft. “This means so much to me,” he said. “Thank you.”

“There’s more to come,” you said with a wink.

The day continued with a leisurely pace. Joe, ever the competitor, suggested playing a round of Madden on the PS5. Despite your best efforts, he won every game, laughing at your frustrated groans.

By midday, you nudged him toward the door. “Time for part two of your birthday adventure,” you said.

Joe frowned playfully. “You’re up to something, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” you said, grabbing his hand and leading him outside.

The two of you hopped into the car, and you drove to one of Joe’s favorite spots—a quiet hiking trail just outside the city. Hiking was one of his ways to unwind, and you knew he’d appreciate the chance to escape the chaos of the season.

As you walked hand in hand along the trail, you marveled at the serene beauty of the woods. The crisp winter air, the crunch of leaves underfoot, and the occasional call of birds made for a perfect backdrop.

“You really thought of everything today,” Joe said, pulling you close.

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” you replied with a grin.

By the time you returned home, Joe seemed content and relaxed. But the day was far from over.

“Go shower and change into something nice,” you said.

“Why? What’s going on?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“It’s a surprise,” you said, refusing to elaborate.

Joe, curious but cooperative, disappeared into the bathroom. Meanwhile, you got to work setting up the final act of the day—a surprise party with all his closest friends and teammates.

The living room was already decorated with banners, balloons, and a massive “Happy Birthday Joe” sign. You’d spent hours coordinating with his friends, ensuring everyone could be there. The catering had just arrived, featuring Joe’s favorite dishes, including a giant Cajun-style crawfish boil as a nod to his Louisiana roots.

By the time Joe emerged, looking sharp in a casual blazer and jeans, the house was dark and silent.

“What’s going on?” he asked, confused.

“Just trust me,” you said, guiding him to the living room.

As soon as you opened the door, the lights flicked on, and a chorus of voices shouted, “Surprise!”

Joe froze, his mouth falling open. The room was packed with familiar faces—his teammates, coaches, and even a few close friends from high school and college.

“You did this?” he asked, turning to you with wide eyes.

“I had a little help,” you admitted.

The night was everything you’d hoped for and more. There was laughter, music, and endless storytelling. Joe’s teammates shared hilarious anecdotes from the locker room, and his family reminisced about his childhood.

The highlight of the evening was the cake—a massive football-shaped creation adorned with the Bengals’ colors and Joe’s jersey number, 9. Everyone gathered around as you lit the candles and led the group in singing “Happy Birthday.”

Joe blew out the candles, his face lit up with gratitude.

“Speech! Speech!” someone called out.

Joe laughed, raising his glass. “I don’t even know where to start,” he said. “To everyone here, thank you. I’m so lucky to have such amazing people in my life. And to you,” he said, looking at you, “thank you for making this the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

As the night wound down and the guests started to leave, Joe pulled you aside.

“Today was perfect,” he said. “You made me feel so loved.”

“You are loved,” you said, leaning in to kiss him.

As you stood there, wrapped in his arms, you realized that while Joe’s accomplishments on the field were incredible, it was moments like this that truly defined him. He was more than just a football star—he was someone who inspired everyone around him to be better.

And on this special day, you were grateful to celebrate the man he was, both on and off the field.

-Time Skip-

By the time you guys returned home, the party had been a roaring success, and you’d successfully pulled off every surprise. But now, the house was quiet, the guests gone, and the festive decorations shimmering under soft, dimmed lights.

Joe found you in the living room, sitting on the couch with a glass of wine in hand. You had changed into something more alluring—a fitted black lingerie that hugged every curve.

“Looks like the birthday boy survived the surprises,” you teased as he approached, his gaze sweeping over you appreciatively.

“Barely,” he said, sitting beside you and taking your hand. “But I’ve got to say—you outdid yourself.”

“You deserve it,” you said softly, leaning in closer.

Joe’s eyes darkened slightly as his free hand brushed along your thigh. “I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

“Maybe I’m the lucky one,” you murmured, your voice low.

The playful energy between you shifted as the air grew heavier with tension. His hand lingered on your leg, tracing slow, deliberate circles.

“You’re not done spoiling me yet, are you?” he asked, his voice dropping into a husky tone that sent a shiver down your spine.

“That depends,” you said, your lips curving into a coy smile. “How much more does the birthday boy want?”

Joe didn’t answer with words. Instead, he closed the space between you, capturing your lips in a deep, hungry kiss. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer until you were straddling his lap. The feel of his strong hands makes its way to your bottom. Combined with the heat radiating off him, sent your heart racing.

“You’ve been teasing me all day,” he murmured against your lips. “It’s my turn now.”

His words were a promise, and you couldn’t help but melt into him, the anticipation of the night ahead filling you with a delicious thrill.

As the fire crackled in the background and the world outside faded away, you realized this was the perfect way to end his special day—wrapped up in each other, with nothing but the quiet hum of desire and the promise of more.

Thanks for reading! Send in request plss <3

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe shiesty #joe burrow smut #joe burrow bengals #joe burrow x y/n #joey burrow #joeyb #who dey

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amethystarachnid · 23 days ago

Note

Hey rose! I'm really excited for the Marvel holiday special!! Can I please request Steve Rogers x short!Reader (is this self indulgent? Maybe!😭 People literally have to bend down to hug me idk, tall genes of my family skipped me) for the second prompt- miseltoe mishap? Thank you!<3 🩷

P.s. I LOVE all of your fics 🤌✨

UNDER THE MISTLETOE

⤷ STEVE G. ROGERS

ᯓ★ Pairing: Steve G. Rogers x short!fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.2k

ᯓ★ Summary: Steve's new year resolution was simple: confess his feeling for you, but as a new year approaches he still hasn't said a word. So, after a mysterious Christmas gift you receive, you decide to take matter into your own hands.

ᯓ★ TW(s): so much fluff it needs a tw and some teasing and flirty comments from y/n

ᯓ★ I'm sorry but as you all may have noticed the requested aren't being written in the chronological order they were requested because I got confused between the asks and the comments in the post and can't figure out who has requested before who, so I'm just writing it following the prompt list. I'm sorry but don't worry, your request will be written!

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The Avengers Tower is a beacon of Christmas cheer this time of year, buzzing with the energy of festive preparations. Garlands hang from the railings, twinkling lights are draped across every conceivable surface, and the smell of hot cocoa wafts from the kitchen. It’s a cozy chaos, and you’re in the thick of it, perched on a step stool as you wrestle with a particularly stubborn string of fairy lights.

Your arms ache from holding them above your head for so long, but you’re determined to get them just right. The lights have to be even—no awkward gaps or clumps. It’s a matter of principle, and besides, you know Tony will be annoying about it if you don’t.

“Need a hand?” a familiar voice asks from behind you.

You glance down and find Steve Rogers standing there, all broad shoulders and gentle eyes. He’s holding a box of ornaments, his cheeks tinged pink—not from the cold (you’re indoors, after all), but something else. The sight of him is enough to make your own cheeks heat up, though you do your best to ignore it. Steve has that effect on people.

“I’ve got it,” you reply, gritting your teeth as you stretch a little further. The stool wobbles, and his hands dart out instinctively, steadying you with a feather-light touch. You freeze, your heart doing an Olympic-level somersault.

“You sure?” he asks, his voice low and careful. “That stool doesn’t look very—uh—stable.”

“It’s fine,” you insist, though your confidence in the stool’s structural integrity is rapidly dwindling. You glance down again and catch the crease of worry on his brow. The man is the living embodiment of chivalry; there’s no way he’ll let you keep going without making it his mission to help.

With a sigh, you step down. The lights can wait. “Fine,” you concede. “Knock yourself out, Captain Christmas.”

Steve chuckles, setting the box of ornaments down on a nearby table. He steps up onto the stool, and you’re struck again by just how tall he is. He’s got at least a foot and a half on you, which is something you’re reminded of constantly—like when you have to crane your neck just to look him in the eye. Or when he easily reaches shelves that are practically a mile out of your range.

He’s annoyingly perfect. Not just in the tall, strong, and ridiculously handsome way, but in the kind, thoughtful, and genuine way too. He’s the kind of man who offers his umbrella to strangers in the rain, who remembers how you take your coffee, who actually listens when you talk. And if that weren’t enough, he’s also awkward—adorably so, especially around you.

You suspect it’s because you’re small and he worries about crushing you with a handshake. Or maybe it’s because he thinks you’re fragile, which would be ironic, considering how many missions you’ve both survived. Either way, his awkwardness only fuels your ridiculous, head-over-heels crush.

As Steve strings the lights, you busy yourself unpacking ornaments from the box he brought. Most of them are classics—shiny globes, candy canes, and snowflakes—but there are a few oddities mixed in. A Hulk-shaped bauble makes you snort, and you hold it up for Steve to see.

“Look familiar?” you tease.

He glances down from his perch and grins. “Bet Bruce loves that one.”

“He’s probably going to hide it on the back of the tree,” you reply, setting it aside. Your fingers brush against a different ornament—this one shaped like a little star. It’s simple, but pretty, and you hold it up to admire it. “This one’s cute.”

Steve’s hands falter for a split second as he adjusts the lights. You don’t notice, too focused on the star, but he notices. Oh, he notices. Because you just called something “cute” in that soft, slightly breathless way that makes his chest tighten. He swallows hard and refocuses on the task at hand.

“Y-yeah, it’s nice,” he manages, hoping his voice doesn’t crack.

Why is this so hard?

Steve has faced down alien armies, assassins, and world-ending threats without breaking a sweat, but the thought of confessing his feelings to you is enough to make him panic. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. At the start of the year, he’d made a resolution—a promise to himself—that he would finally tell you how he felt. But every time he’s tried, the words get stuck in his throat.

And now, with Christmas just days away, the deadline he arbitrarily set for himself is looming. The idea of starting another year without telling you makes his stomach twist, but so does the idea of screwing it up. What if you don’t feel the same way? What if he ruins everything?

“Steve?” your voice snaps him out of his spiral.

“Hm?” He blinks down at you, realizing he’s been staring blankly at the half-lit string of lights in his hands.

“You okay?” you ask, your brow furrowed. “You zoned out for a second there.”

“Oh, uh—yeah, I’m fine,” he says quickly, though his ears are burning. “Just thinking.”

“About?” you prompt, tilting your head.

You shouldn’t do that. It’s unfair, how cute you look when you’re curious. It makes it harder for him to keep his cool.

“Nothing important,” he lies, offering a sheepish smile. “How’s the ornament situation?”

You hold up the Hulk bauble again with a smirk. “I think this one’s going front and center.”

Steve laughs, shaking his head. “Bruce is gonna love that.”

You giggle, and the sound is like music to his ears. It’s one of the things he loves most about you—your laugh. It’s warm and infectious, and he’d do just about anything to hear it.

Before he can spiral further into his thoughts, you step closer to hand him the star ornament. “Here,” you say. “This one should go up top.”

Steve takes it, his fingers brushing against yours for the briefest moment. It’s nothing, really—just an innocent touch—but it sends a jolt of electricity through him. He wonders if you feel it too, or if he’s imagining things.

“Good choice,” he says, his voice a little quieter now. He focuses on securing the star to the top of the tree, grateful for the distraction. When he’s done, he steps back to admire his work, and you join him, standing so close that your shoulder almost brushes his arm.

“Not bad, Captain,” you say, your tone light but genuine. “I think we’ve got ourselves a pretty solid tree.”

He glances down at you, his heart doing that stupid fluttery thing it always does when you’re near. You’re smiling—bright and proud—and for a moment, he forgets how to breathe.

“Yeah,” he says softly, more to himself than to you. “It’s perfect.”

You glance up at him, your smile faltering just slightly. There’s something in his expression—something raw and unguarded—that makes your pulse quicken. For a second, you think maybe, just maybe, he feels the same way you do.

But the moment passes, and Steve clears his throat, stepping away under the guise of tidying up.

“So, uh,” he says awkwardly, bending down to gather the empty ornament boxes. “What’s next on the agenda?”

You blink, trying to shake off the lingering warmth of his gaze. “I think we’re supposed to decorate the common room. Nat said something about needing backup with the garlands.”

“Right,” Steve says, straightening up with the boxes in hand. “Lead the way.”

As you head toward the common room together, you can’t help stealing glances at him. He’s trying so hard to act normal, but you know him well enough to sense when something’s off. There’s a tension in his shoulders, a hesitation in his words.

You wonder what’s on his mind. And you wonder if it has anything to do with the way he looks at you—like you’re the most important thing in the world.

Christmas morning in the Avengers Tower is a mix of chaos and cheer. The common room is alive with laughter and good-natured teasing, wrapping paper scattered across the floor like confetti. The massive Christmas tree glows softly in the corner, its branches weighed down with ornaments and twinkling lights.

Everyone has gathered here to exchange gifts, and the room feels warmer than usual—maybe because of the crackling fireplace, or maybe because of the bonds you all share. You’re sitting cross-legged on the floor, a pile of unwrapped presents beside you, and your cheeks ache from smiling so much.

Natasha is chuckling as Clint holds up a sweater that has “World’s Okayest Archer” stitched across the front in bold letters. “This is slander,” Clint grumbles, but he’s grinning. “I’m amazing.”

“Sure you are,” Natasha teases, her smirk sharp and playful.

Thor, meanwhile, is marveling at a “World’s Greatest Dad” mug that someone (probably Tony) had sneakily customized to include a picture of Thor holding Stormbreaker like a proud parent. “This,” Thor declares, raising the mug, “is a mighty gift.”

“Very mighty,” Tony quips from his spot on the couch, a Santa hat perched crookedly on his head. “You’re welcome.”

Steve sits near the tree, mostly quiet but smiling at the antics around him. He’s already unwrapped his gifts—a vintage Captain America action figure from Tony (complete with the original shield), a sturdy leather-bound journal from Natasha, and an assortment of hand-knit sweaters from Thor’s mother. He’s grateful for all of them, but his focus isn’t on the gifts anymore. It’s on you.

You’re radiant this morning, your laughter lighting up the room more than the Christmas tree ever could. Steve doesn’t know if it’s the cozy glow of the fireplace or the joy of the season, but something about you seems especially beautiful today. Not that you aren’t beautiful every day—but today, you’re breathtaking.

And it’s making him nervous.

Because tucked beneath the tree is one last gift. A gift for you. A gift from him.

“Looks like that’s the last of it,” Clint says, stretching his arms above his head. “Nice haul this year, guys.”

“Not quite,” Tony interrupts, pointing toward the tree. “There’s still one left under there.”

Everyone turns their attention to the tree, and you lean forward curiously. Sure enough, there’s a single box nestled beneath the branches. It’s wrapped neatly in silver paper, tied with a red ribbon, and it has your name on it.

Your brow furrows as you reach for it. “I don’t remember putting this here.”

“Must’ve been one of us,” Natasha says, though she looks just as intrigued as everyone else. “Check the tag.”

You glance at the label, but it doesn’t give you any clues. It simply says To Y/N—no indication of who it’s from.

“Secret Santa, maybe?” Bruce suggests.

“Someone’s being mysterious,” Tony says, leaning back with a smirk. “Come on, open it. Let’s see what you got.”

You hesitate for a moment, your fingers brushing over the ribbon. Whoever left this for you went out of their way to remain anonymous, and that makes you feel oddly shy. Still, curiosity wins out, and you carefully untie the ribbon, peeling back the wrapping paper.

Inside the box is a smaller velvet box. You blink, your breath catching as you open it.

Nestled inside is a delicate silver necklace, the pendant shaped like a tiny star. It’s simple but stunning, the kind of piece that feels timeless. You stare at it for a moment, your chest tightening.

But that’s not all.

Beneath the necklace, folded carefully, is a sheet of paper. You unfold it slowly, revealing a drawing—a sketch of you, caught mid-laugh. The details are astonishing, from the crinkle of your eyes to the way your hair falls. It’s you, but somehow more: the joy on your face, the warmth in your expression—it’s like the artist captured not just your likeness, but your spirit.

The room falls quiet as you stare at the drawing, your hands trembling slightly.

“Wow,” Natasha murmurs, leaning in for a better look. “That’s... beautiful.”

“It’s incredible,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. You trace the edge of the drawing with your fingertip, your heart racing. “Who...?”

“Not it,” Tony says, raising his hands.

“Wasn’t me,” Clint adds.

Everyone else shakes their heads, except for Steve, who sits frozen, his heart pounding so loudly he’s surprised no one else can hear it.

It was a gamble, leaving the gift anonymously. He couldn’t bring himself to sign his name, not when he was terrified of how you might react. But now, watching the way your eyes glisten as you hold the necklace and the drawing, he’s second-guessing everything.

Should he say something? Should he let you wonder? Should he...?

You glance up, scanning the room. Your gaze lingers on Steve for a moment, and he feels like a deer caught in headlights. He quickly looks away, pretending to adjust the hem of his sweater.

“Well, whoever it’s from,” you say softly, clutching the necklace in your hand, “thank you. It’s... it’s perfect.”

Steve lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Perfect. You think it’s perfect. Relief washes over him, followed by a flicker of pride. He spent weeks working on the drawing, pouring every ounce of his feelings into every pencil stroke. Seeing you appreciate it—cherish it—is more than he could’ve hoped for.

But then you put the necklace on, and his chest tightens all over again. The star catches the light, and it suits you so perfectly that he has to look away before he does something stupid—like stare too long or blurt out the truth in front of everyone.

“Whoever did this really knows you,” Natasha says, eyeing the necklace. “It’s thoughtful.”

“And talented,” Bruce adds, gesturing to the drawing. “That’s some serious skill.”

Steve shifts uncomfortably, trying to hide his reddening face. He’s not used to compliments, especially not ones directed at his art.

“Guess I’ve got a secret admirer,” you joke lightly, though there’s a hint of hope in your voice.

“Or someone with terrible taste,” Tony quips, earning a pillow to the face from Natasha.

The room dissolves into laughter again, and the attention shifts away from you and your mysterious gift. But you’re still holding the drawing, your fingers brushing over the lines and shading. It’s so personal, so intimate, that it makes your heart ache in the best way.

And Steve? Steve sits quietly, watching you from the corner of his eye. He doesn’t know how long he can keep this secret, but for now, he’s content to see you happy. Even if you never find out it was him, this moment is enough.

Or at least, that’s what he tells himself.

The days between Christmas and New Year’s feel suspended in time—a cozy limbo filled with leftover cookies, twinkling lights, and lazy mornings. At the Avengers Tower, the pace has slowed to something resembling normalcy, with everyone enjoying a much-needed break.

You, however, have been anything but relaxed. Not since Christmas morning, when you opened that mysterious gift.

The necklace still rests around your neck, the tiny star pendant catching the light whenever you move. The drawing that accompanied it is safely tucked away in your room, though you’ve stared at it countless times since then. You can’t stop thinking about it—or, more specifically, about who gave it to you.

For days, you’ve replayed the moment in your mind, analyzing every detail. The craftsmanship of the drawing, the thoughtfulness of the gift—it could only be from someone who knows you well. Someone who cares about you deeply. Someone who, despite their care, wanted to stay anonymous.

And you have a pretty good idea of who that someone is.

Steve.

It’s the only explanation that makes sense. He’s been acting... different around you ever since Christmas. Quieter. More awkward. You’ve caught him stealing glances when he thinks you’re not looking, and when you smile at him, he stammers like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

The thought that Steve might like you—that he might really like you—makes your heart race. You’ve had a crush on him for what feels like forever, but you never imagined he might feel the same way. Now that you’ve started piecing things together, it feels almost too good to be true.

And yet, there’s still no confirmation. No grand confession. No slip of the tongue. Nothing to cement your theory. Which is why you decide to take matters into your own hands.

It’s late afternoon when you start your search for Steve. You’ve checked the gym, the kitchen, and even the lounge, but he’s nowhere to be found. Finally, you decide to check his room—a bold move, but you’re running out of options.

When you knock and get no response, you hesitantly push the door open.

“Steve?” you call softly, peeking inside.

The room is empty, neat and orderly as always. The bed is made, the desk is tidy, and his shield leans against the wall like it belongs in a museum. You step inside, glancing around for any sign of where he might be.

Your gaze lands on the leather journal sitting on his desk. The one Natasha gifted him for Christmas. It’s open, a pencil resting on top of its pages.

You know you shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t. But curiosity gets the better of you, and you find yourself drawn to the desk.

“It’s just a peek,” you mutter to yourself, your fingers brushing over the leather cover.

The page it’s open to stops you dead in your tracks. It’s a drawing—of you.

Not just any drawing, either. It’s almost identical to the one you received on Christmas morning, the same detail, the same expression, the same care in every line. Your breath catches as you realize what this means.

Steve drew this. Steve gave you the necklace. Steve has been hiding his feelings for you all this time.

A smile tugs at your lips, and a thrill runs through you. He likes you. He really likes you. And yet, he hasn’t said a word. Typical Steve—too noble, too careful, too worried about messing things up.

You close the journal carefully, placing the pencil back where you found it. You won’t confront him about this—not yet. No, you have a much better idea.

If Steve won’t confess, then you’ll make it impossible for him not to. And if that means teasing him a little, well... all’s fair in love and war.

You find Steve in the lounge a little while later, sitting on the couch with a book in hand. He looks up when you enter, and his face brightens instantly, though he tries to hide it.

“Hey,” you say, leaning casually against the doorway.

“Hey,” he replies, setting the book aside. “Looking for something?”

“Actually, I was looking for you,” you say, crossing the room to sit beside him. You’re closer than usual, your knee brushing against his. He stiffens slightly, his eyes darting to yours.

“Oh?” he says, his voice a little higher than usual. “What for?”

You shrug, tilting your head as you study him. He looks nervous—adorably so—and it only fuels your confidence.

“Just wanted to see how you’re doing,” you say, your tone light and sweet. “You’ve been kind of quiet lately.”

“Have I?” he asks, clearing his throat.

“Mm-hmm.” You reach out to adjust the collar of his sweater, your fingers grazing his neck. He freezes, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard.

“You sure everything’s okay?” you ask, your voice dipping slightly.

“I—I’m fine,” he stammers, his cheeks turning pink. “Really.”

You lean back, feigning innocence. “Good. I’d hate to think something was bothering you.”

He nods, clearly unsure of how to respond.

You spend the rest of the evening finding subtle ways to fluster him. Leaning closer than necessary when you talk. Touching his arm when you laugh. Complimenting him on everything from his sweater to his hair. By the time you part ways, Steve looks like he’s been through an emotional whirlwind.

The next day, you up the ante.

Steve is in the kitchen making breakfast when you join him, your hair slightly tousled and your sweater slipping off one shoulder. He nearly drops the pan he’s holding when he sees you.

“Morning,” you say, your voice soft and syrupy.

“G-good morning,” he replies, turning back to the stove.

You step closer, peeking over his shoulder. “Whatcha making?”

“Just eggs,” he says, his grip tightening on the spatula.

“Smells good,” you say, resting a hand on his back. You feel the muscles beneath his shirt tense, and it takes all your willpower not to laugh.

“Want some?” he asks, his voice strained.

“Sure,” you say, flashing him a smile. “Thanks, Steve. You’re the best.”

His ears turn red, and you bite your lip to keep from grinning.

By the third day, Steve is visibly unraveling.

You’ve spent the last forty-eight hours being as sweet, flirty, and touchy as you can manage without outright declaring your feelings. Every time you brush against him, compliment him, or catch him staring, he looks like he’s about to combust.

You find him in the training room that afternoon, throwing punches at a heavy bag like it owes him money. He doesn’t notice you at first, and you take a moment to admire him—his broad shoulders, his focused expression, the way his sweat-soaked shirt clings to his chest.

“Working hard?” you call out, stepping into the room.

Steve pauses, glancing over his shoulder. “Oh, hey. Didn’t see you there.”

“Clearly,” you say, walking toward him. “What’d that poor bag do to deserve this?”

“Just... letting off some steam,” he says, wiping his forehead with his arm.

“Need a sparring partner?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

His eyes widen slightly. “You want to spar? With me?”

“Why not?” you say, stepping closer. “Unless you’re scared I’ll kick your ass.”

A laugh escapes him, and you feel a spark of satisfaction. “I’d like to see you try.”

You grin, stepping onto the mat. “Suit up, Rogers.”

After a playful (and very one-sided) sparring session, Steve is more flustered than ever. You’re lying on the mat, catching your breath, and you turn to look at him.

“You’re holding back,” you tease.

“Didn’t want to hurt you,” he replies, still trying to recover from your relentless teasing.

“You’re sweet, Steve,” you say, your voice soft. “Really sweet.”

He looks at you, and for a moment, the tension between you is palpable. You’re half-tempted to just kiss him and get it over with, but you want him to make the first move.

“I should... hit the showers,” he says abruptly, standing and heading for the door.

As he disappears, you smile to yourself. He’s close to breaking. Very close.

And when he does, you’ll be ready.

It’s New Year’s Eve at the Avengers Tower, and the entire building is buzzing with excitement. Tony, true to form, has outdone himself, transforming the common areas into a glittering wonderland of gold, silver, and twinkling lights. The air hums with music, laughter, and the promise of a fresh start as the year draws to a close.

You’re in your room, standing in front of the mirror with a slight frown as you adjust your dress. The sparkly red fabric hugs your figure perfectly, but the zipper in the back refuses to cooperate. Despite twisting, stretching, and trying every awkward angle imaginable, you can’t quite reach it.

With a sigh, you grab your phone and type out a quick message:

Hey Steve, can you come to my room for a sec? Need a hand.

You press send before you can overthink it, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips. You already know he won’t say no—he never does when it’s you.

Steve arrives less than two minutes later, knocking lightly on your door.

“Y/N? Everything okay?” His voice, deep and warm, filters through the door.

“Come in!” you call out, keeping your tone casual. You hear the door creak open, followed by the soft sound of his boots against the floor.

“Y/N, I—” Steve starts, but the words die on his lips when he sees you.

You turn to face him, clutching the front of your dress to keep it from slipping down. His eyes widen, and his breath catches in his throat as he takes you in. The dress is a vibrant, glittering red that hugs your curves like a second skin, the hem brushing mid-thigh even with the extra height your heels give you. Your hair is styled elegantly, soft waves cascading over your shoulders, and your makeup highlights your features just enough to leave him completely speechless.

“Wow,” he finally manages, his voice barely above a whisper. His cheeks flush a deep pink, and he looks away, as if giving you privacy in a moment that clearly isn’t private.

You bite back a smile, pretending not to notice his reaction. “Thanks for coming. I need a little help.”

Steve clears his throat, his hands fidgeting at his sides. “Help with...?”

“The zipper,” you say, turning around to show him the back of your dress. You hold the fabric up with your hands, revealing the delicate, stubborn zipper that sits halfway down your back. “I can’t reach it.”

“Oh.” Steve’s voice cracks slightly, and he clears his throat again. “Right. Sure. I can do that.”

You hear him take a hesitant step closer, and your pulse quickens. There’s something thrilling about having him this close, about knowing he’s flustered because of you. He smells like clean soap and cedarwood, and the sheer size of him behind you is enough to make your breath hitch.

His large, calloused hands brush against your back as he takes hold of the zipper, and you have to resist the urge to shiver at the contact. He hesitates for a moment, clearly nervous, before carefully tugging the zipper upward. His fingers graze your skin as he works, and the sensation sends a rush of warmth through you.

“Is... is this okay?” he asks softly, his voice rough around the edges.

“Perfect,” you murmur, glancing at him over your shoulder. His face is closer than you expected, and the intensity in his blue eyes makes your heart skip a beat.

The zipper finally reaches the top, and Steve’s hands linger for a moment longer than necessary before he steps back, his gaze darting anywhere but at you.

“There,” he says, his voice tight. “All set.”

You turn to face him, giving a little spin. “What do you think?”

Steve stares at you, his mouth opening and closing like he’s searching for the right words. “You... You look amazing,” he says at last, his voice full of awe.

His honesty makes you blush, and you grin. “Thank you. You’re not looking too bad yourself, you know.”

Steve glances down at his outfit—a crisp navy suit that fits him perfectly—and rubs the back of his neck. “Uh, thanks,” he says, a shy smile tugging at his lips.

“You’re welcome, Captain,” you tease, stepping closer. “Shall we head to the party?”

“Y-yeah, sure,” he stammers, stepping aside to let you pass. His hand hovers near the small of your back as you leave the room, but he doesn’t quite touch you.

The elevator ride to the party is quiet, but not uncomfortably so. You steal glances at Steve as he stands beside you, his shoulders stiff and his jaw clenched like he’s holding something back.

“You okay?” you ask, nudging him lightly with your elbow.

“Yeah,” he says quickly, though the slight crack in his voice betrays him. He clears his throat, flashing you a tight-lipped smile. “I’m fine.”

“Steve.” You raise an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “You’re acting weird.”

“I’m not acting weird,” he protests, but the redness in his ears says otherwise.

You decide to let him off the hook—for now. The elevator doors slide open, revealing the main event: Tony’s New Year’s Eve extravaganza.

The party is already in full swing by the time you and Steve arrive. The common room has been transformed into a glamorous ballroom, complete with a dance floor, a live band, and a fully stocked bar. Guests in glittering dresses and sharp suits mingle beneath cascading strings of fairy lights, and the energy in the room is electric.

“Y/N!” Natasha calls out, making her way toward you with a drink in hand. She gives you a once-over and lets out a low whistle. “You clean up nicely.”

“Thanks, Nat,” you say, twirling for effect. “You look amazing too.”

Natasha smirks. “Oh, I know.”

Steve hangs back slightly, his hands stuffed into his pockets as he watches you with a soft smile. He doesn’t seem to notice the way Natasha’s eyes flick to him, her smirk widening.

“Well, don’t you two make a picture-perfect couple,” she says casually, raising an eyebrow.

“We’re not a couple,” Steve blurts out, his face turning an impressive shade of red.

Natasha raises her glass in mock surrender. “Whatever you say, Rogers.”

She winks at you before disappearing into the crowd, leaving you and Steve standing awkwardly by the entrance.

“She’s relentless,” Steve mutters, rubbing the back of his neck.

“She’s not wrong, though,” you say, your tone light and teasing.

Steve looks at you sharply, his eyes wide. “What?”

You laugh, giving his arm a reassuring pat. “Relax, Steve. I’m just messing with you.”

His shoulders relax slightly, but the pink in his cheeks doesn’t fade.

The night unfolds with laughter, dancing, and plenty of drinks. You make a point to stay close to Steve, brushing against him whenever you can, leaning into him when you laugh, and catching his gaze across the room. Each time, his reaction is the same—wide-eyed, flustered, and utterly endearing.

At one point, you drag him to the dance floor, your hand firmly clasped in his. He protests at first, claiming he’s not much of a dancer, but you refuse to take no for an answer.

“You’ll be fine,” you assure him, pulling him close as the band starts a slow, jazzy number. “Just follow my lead.”

Steve hesitates, but when you rest your hands on his shoulders, he relents. His large hands settle on your waist, and the two of you sway to the music, moving in perfect sync despite his earlier protests.

“You’re better at this than you let on,” you say, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

Steve chuckles nervously. “You’re easy to dance with.”

The compliment makes your heart flutter, and you tighten your grip on his shoulders. For a moment, it feels like the rest of the party fades away, leaving just the two of you in your own little world.

You’re about to say something—something bold, something that’s been on the tip of your tongue for days—when the song ends, and the moment is interrupted by a burst of applause.

Steve steps back, his hands dropping to his sides. “That was... nice,” he says, his voice soft.

“Yeah,” you agree, your chest tightening. “It was.”

You’re not sure how much longer you can keep up this game of subtlety and teasing. The clock is ticking, and the New Year is just around the corner. If Steve doesn’t make a move soon, you might just have to do it for him.

The party is in full swing as midnight approaches, the energy in the room building with each passing minute. The band has picked up its tempo, and laughter and clinking glasses echo through the air. You and Steve have stayed close all night, and now the two of you make your way toward the bar for a drink before the countdown begins.

“What’ll it be?” Steve asks, glancing at the menu. He’s been doing everything he can to appear calm, but the slight tremor in his voice and the way he keeps running a hand through his hair are clear giveaways.

“Champagne,” you say with a smile, leaning casually against the bar. “It’s tradition, isn’t it?”

“Good choice,” he says, signaling to the bartender. Moments later, two glasses of champagne appear in front of you, the golden liquid fizzing enticingly. You pick yours up and raise it in a mock toast.

“To the end of a very interesting year,” you say. “And the start of a better one.”

Steve clinks his glass against yours, his blue eyes warm. “I’ll drink to that.”

You take a sip, savoring the bubbly sweetness. The two of you fall into easy conversation, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the room doesn’t exist. That is, until your eyes drift upward—and you notice the sprig of mistletoe hanging above you.

Your heart skips a beat, and a mischievous smile curls at the edges of your lips.

“Steve,” you say, your voice tinged with amusement.

“Yeah?” he asks, oblivious, before taking another sip of his champagne.

You tilt your head upward, your gaze fixed on the mistletoe. His eyes follow yours, and when he realizes what you’re looking at, he freezes.

“Oh,” he says, his voice barely audible. The tips of his ears turn bright red, and he looks away quickly, as if avoiding eye contact will somehow make the situation disappear.

“Did you know Tony hung mistletoe all over the tower?” you ask innocently, though the twinkle in your eyes betrays your intent.

Steve scratches the back of his neck, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. “Uh, yeah. I might’ve noticed. He’s… thorough.”

You take a step closer, your heels clicking softly against the floor. Even with them on, you still have to crane your neck to look up at him. He’s towering above you, his broad shoulders blocking out everything else, and the nervous way he’s fidgeting is almost too cute to bear.

“So,” you say, your tone teasing. “What are we supposed to do when we’re under mistletoe?”

Steve swallows hard, his eyes darting between you and the small sprig above. “I—uh—well, I think… traditionally… people…”

You raise an eyebrow, waiting patiently as he struggles to form a coherent sentence.

“They kiss,” he finally blurts out, his voice cracking slightly.

You can’t help but laugh softly. “They do,” you agree. “It’s tradition, after all.”

His blush deepens, and he looks like he’s about two seconds away from bolting. You can see the internal battle playing out in his mind, the way he’s torn between his feelings and his nerves. The countdown begins in the background, voices ringing out in unison:

“Ten!”

“Steve,” you say, stepping even closer. “You know what I think?”

He blinks, staring down at you like a deer caught in headlights. “W-what?”

“Nine!”

“I think you’re overthinking this.”

“Eight!”

His mouth opens, but no sound comes out. You’re not sure whether to be exasperated or endeared by how utterly flustered he is.

“Seven!”

“Six!”

“Steve,” you say firmly, reaching up to place a hand on his chest. You can feel the rapid thud of his heartbeat beneath your palm, and it sends a thrill through you.

“Five!”

“If you don’t kiss me right now,” you whisper, your voice low and teasing, “I’m going to have to take matters into my own hands.”

“Four!”

“Three!”

Still, he hesitates, his lips parting as if to speak but no words escaping. You sigh dramatically, rising onto your tiptoes and tugging him down by his tie.

“Two!”

Before he can protest—or, more likely, overthink himself into oblivion—you press your lips to his.

The kiss is soft and sweet at first, your lips fitting perfectly against his. His initial surprise quickly melts away, and his hands come to rest lightly on your waist, steadying you as you lean into him. Even with your heels, he has to bend down significantly to meet you, and the height difference is so absurdly Steve-and-you that it makes you smile against his lips.

When you deepen the kiss slightly, sliding your hands up to his shoulders, he lets out a quiet, surprised sound that sends a rush of warmth through you. He tastes faintly of champagne, and the sheer rightness of the moment makes your head spin.

The countdown fades into a deafening roar of cheers and applause as the clock strikes midnight, but you barely notice. For this moment, it’s just you and Steve, wrapped up in a world of your own making.

When you finally pull away, you’re both breathless. Steve looks down at you, his expression a mixture of wonder, disbelief, and pure adoration.

“I…” he starts, his voice shaky. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

You laugh softly, your hands still resting on his broad shoulders. “You don’t say.”

“I mean, I—uh—I’ve liked you for a while now,” he stammers, his words tumbling out in a rush. “A long while, actually. Since before last Christmas. And I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how, and then the gift—I mean, the necklace—I thought maybe it would say it for me, but then you didn’t say anything, and I—”

“Steve,” you interrupt gently, placing a finger over his lips to stop his rambling. He freezes, his eyes wide and uncertain.

You smile, rising onto your tiptoes once more to kiss him again. This time, it’s slower, sweeter, a silent reassurance that you feel the same way. When you pull back, you whisper against his lips:

“Happy New Year, Steve.”

He stares at you, his blue eyes shining with so much emotion it makes your chest ache. “Happy New Year, Y/N.”

And as the room around you erupts into celebration, you know this is going to be the start of something truly amazing.

I'm sorry (not really) but I can't imagine Steve as nothing else than a softie, like, I don't know where you all see the big dominant man...I see a puppy

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felassan · 1 month ago

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Polygon: 'How Dragon Age: The Veilguard’s writers decided each companion’s romance arc'

Rest of post under a cut due to spoilers.

“There’s so many different flavors of romances with the characters that even if one doesn’t work for you, one of them I think is likely to,” creative director John Epler told Polygon. “But they’re so tied to the character arcs that they become part of that character development as opposed to ‘and also you can romance them on the side.’” For instance, Epler said, Bellara’s romance is purposefully awkward and stilted. (“As Bellara’s writer, I’m very familiar with it,” he added.) “It’s clearly somebody who doesn’t see themselves as someone people are going to want to romance,” he said. “And so one of my favorite things is paying Bellara a compliment, and she takes it in the most awkward [way]. Because she herself as a character, and something you see through her arc, has these issues with how she sees herself, especially after what happened in her past. And so that romance kind of plays off of that as somebody who does have, I wouldn’t say necessarily low self-esteem, but has issues with self-regard. This is how that romance goes, especially if they are themselves a very awkward character.” Meanwhile, Lucanis — who joins the party after you rescue him from an underwater prison where he was tortured for a year after someone in his inner circle betrayed him — has a long road ahead of him in terms of opening up and letting others in. (That also means the results of one big early game choice might cut him off entirely.) “[He] has an arc that’s very much about family and letting people get close and seeing what happens,” said Epler. “And so with his romance, you get more of a slow burn where it doesn’t feel like you’re ever getting quite as close to him as maybe you want until the very end.” In addition to the player-chosen romance arcs, some companions you haven’t chosen to romance might enter romantic relationships with one another (or in the case of one character, with an NPC that isn’t in your party). This isn’t the first time non-romanced party members get together: A fan favorite, for example, is Qunari mercenary Iron Bull and Tevinter mage Dorian Pavus in Dragon Age: Inquisition. But Veilguard has more opportunity than ever before for these side romances to blossom. It all came down, once again, to what made sense for these characters’ own arcs. Bellara doesn’t romance anyone outside of Rook because, as Epler said, she is a “very focused person with a very specific obsession.” Romance isn’t exactly on the top of her mind. For Taash and Harding, however, a romance made perfect sense — both characters navigate accepting who they are and how that fits in with what they thought they knew about the communities and cultures they hail from."

“I think one of my favorite parts of that arc is how much compatibility comes through as you go through their arcs and you realize these are two people […] broken in ways that are so complementary to allow them to heal each other,” said Epler. “They end up developing this very lovely relationship, lovely romance that makes sense for the both of them.” Players might understandably want to go into the game without any spoilers about what characters might get together. But if you’re heading into your second playthrough and you already know more about what the characters’ relationships with one another look like, making decisions might take on a whole new level of significance. That was definitely the case for game director Corinne Busche. “What I love about those developments is that it really gives us some interesting and compelling decision-making about the choices and the consequences within the game,” she told us. “[The relationships] have an extra level, I think, for the decision making. I don’t want to get into spoilers, but there was a moment where I set the controller down and had to go, Oh my God, how can I possibly make this decision knowing what I know of these two characters and how they feel about each other? Oh, it just really makes it hit.” There’s a lot of emphasis on the inter-character relationships in Veilguard. Not only is there the usual party banter while out and about in the world, but you can also stumble upon conversations between characters back at your home base, mitigate disagreements between them, and read codex entries about their book club meetings, cooking rotation, and other things. It makes sense that writing interactions between these companions might spark some ideas for the writers. “It really does come down to who makes the most sense for these characters and who as the writers we are excited about pairing up,” said Epler. “Because I think something people forget is […] well, it’s not technically fanfiction. It’s the same impetus that drives fanfiction where you’re like, Who are the characters we love the most and who do we want to see together? Who do we think makes the most sense as a couple? And then playing with that and seeing if it actually does make sense.”

[source]

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #long post #longpost

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odinsonslut · 2 years ago

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Young

⊹ genre: Fluff mostly, minimal angst

⊹ pairing: Fred Weasley x Slytherin female reader

⊹ themes: Friends to lovers

⊹ summary: Fred rejected your advances, claiming you’re too young. You set out to seduce him, which backfires. Unwarranted comments were made in your presence, and George attempted to comfort you, finally explaining his fears and feelings in the process.

⊹ warnings: Swearing, third-party slut-shaming of the reader, mentions of an emotionally toxic relationship, very brief mention of drugs.

⊹ word count: 1.7k

⊹ a/n: I don’t know why I’ve chosen to base this whole fic off of rejection yet again, but It’s completely different to the last, trust. A cute Fred one today because I’ve had a recent fixation on the twins and can’t seem to write for anyone else atm.

Confidence has come naturally to you since the first day you walked through the castle doors. Many would wager that’s why you ended up in Slytherin over Hufflepuff. You’d never had issues letting people know how you felt about them; rejection had never been a concern or a fear simply because your self-assurance wasn’t so easily deteriorated.

This wasn’t ever in question until two weeks ago. You hadn’t thought twice about approaching Fred after months of mutual teasing, or so you thought it was. You went to his spot on Gryffindor’s table in the morning, greeting him with a single pumpkin pasty. You waited till he took a bite out of it before making some quip that you couldn’t seem to, or rather didn’t want to remember, about owing you a kiss and maybe something more in return for it, to which he painfully, tragically mustered a chuckle past his lips, probably the most awkward position I’ve seen him in, before finally finding the words to let you down easily.

“You know I love you endlessly, but we’re friends” He could’ve just as easily stopped there, but he continued.

“You’re just a little too young for me.”

Young

He briefly dated Amelia Farrow last spring, and she’s four months younger than you, so obviously, it wasn’t an age issue. He saw you as immature, a kid. He couldn’t even begin to picture you as attractive in any form. Actually, feeling affected as a result of rejection was unfamiliar; it was scary. How had you allowed yourself to feel enough for a man that your own stability suffered? As a result, you didn’t just feel hurt, you felt inferior, and that was harrowing enough in itself.

You were just beginning to fall into another rant directing every expressional detail from the twitch of his bottom lip to the scrunch in his left brow when you were interrupted by a loud sigh.

“Babe, I couldn’t live a day without you, but swooning over a blood-traitor Weasley is way more than I can handle for the 7th time this morning”, Pansy quipped after a supportive kiss on my cheek.

“Give me a solution then”, you pleaded, faux pouting while hugging her thighs desperately.

“Seduce him, love; you’ve got the best ass on anyone in this entire school. Malfoy tells me he’s got a preference for it, says he lets a lot slip when they’re off smoking muggle grass.”

“Teach me how. You’re probably the only girl in our year every Slytherin male wants to shag a second time.”

It was the first quidditch match of the year, so naturally, you put on your uniform from 3rd year to cheer the team on. Malfoy found your overreaction to rejection amusing, like a fish out of water, to use his words, so he didn’t mind playing the role of the pawn in your game. You spent all game cheering Draco on, making sure you were just enthusiastic enough to attract Fred’s attention.

The game finally came to an end. Gryffindor just barely scraped by, with Harry catching the snitch. I could already see Oliver Wood pushing Fred about, demanding a valid reason for his poor performance during the game. He pushed Wood off of him and stormed off with an exasperated look on his face.

I caught up to him a few feet away, deciding to skip past the jokes, figuring he wasn’t quite in the mood.

“Hey, you okay?” I timidly asked, reaching out to stroke his hand

“You sure move on quick, don’t you?” He spoke harshly, ignoring my question completely

“Are you serious? You reject me, then get mad at my attempts to move past that?” I shoved his shoulder, feigning annoyance. I knew exactly what I was doing, trying to prompt a reaction out of him.

“And what the hell are you wearing? Damn near sent Adrian Pucey spiralling into the benches with your ass out like that.”

“So I had both team’s beaters distracted, huh?”

“I wasn’t distracted so much as horrified.” He immediately followed

You shoved him playfully. “Shut up, weasel. You’re literally still staring at my tits.”

“You’re telling me you didn’t put that outfit on for me to stare at?” He whispered as we came to a halt just outside the quidditch changing rooms

To my dismay, I couldn’t think of anything to do or say but scoff at him, to which his grin grew even bigger.

He turned to leave, my brain regaining activity without the pressure of his eyes in contact with mine.

“I put it on so you’d have a clearer image to jack off to tonight.”

I headed back to my dorm before he could get another word in.

I approached the great hall hand in hand with Daphne Greengrass, completely satisfied with the way I left things with Fred yesterday, convinced I’d won. The smile on my face immediately dropped as I heard the conversation taking place at the Gryffindor table.

“- he’s even got a Slytherin girl in his pocket, dressing up like a little slut just for him.”

“Tell me, Weasley, does she like it rough?”

“Seems like the kind of girl that’d take it in the back.”

Your heart dropped as you heard comments from miscellaneous men in the house, jeering over each other, collectively patting an angry-looking Fred on his back and shoulders in a congratulatory manner.

We made eye contact. Before the men at his table sensed my presence, too, I broke away from Daphne and sprinted out of the Hall. I sank by a tree in front of the lake as I took shallow breaths.

What hurts is that every assumption they made about my character felt deserving. When did I become the girl so desperate for one man’s attention that I so pathetically made myself more sexually desirable in his eyes? So that his lust would cloud his judgement and throw me lay at the very least? I hadn’t even realised how delirious I was acting and how painfully obvious it was to everyone but me just how much more I clung to the idea of him. It was like a montage of clarity was playing in my brain, of the way I continued running up to the Gryffindor common room every morning, taking every opportunity to make what I thought was subtle physical contact with him. God.

I let out a little yelp when I finally opened my eyes. Fred sat right next to me, leaning his head against the tree the same way I was.

“God, you scared me half to death! fucking cunt” I muttered the last part, allowing my anger to peak through

“I had Malfoy help me make sure those guys’ mouths stay shut. I’m sorry you had to hear that, and I’m sorry they were able to say more than two words without me hexing them and their mothers, to begin with. None of what any of them said is worth your care. They heard us talking outside the changing rooms yesterday. They’re all jealous little virgins that have-

“They were things I needed to hear” I cut him off before he fell into a rant that honestly wouldn’t have made a difference to the way I felt.

He looked at me incredulously, struggling to find the words to respond.

“I was seeking your attention so incredibly desperately. It embarrasses me to think about it. You said no; I should’ve respected that and left it as it was. I took your reasoning personally, and for the way I’ve acted since that day, I apologise, truly,” I continued.

He sighed. “I only said what I said out of fear. I’m sure you remember I briefly dated a Hufflepuff girl in your year, Amelia. I made a mistake getting involved with her. She didn’t know how to separate love from attachment, and it got to a point her dependence on me started affecting her mental well-being, along with mine. Nobody saw much of me during the time we were dating because I was just so caught up with making sure she was okay since she relied on me completely. I didn’t realise I was even allowed to have boundaries at all in a relationship. She constantly made me feel selfish and uncaring for wanting space or even just time with my family. When you told me how you felt about me, I had recovered from the relationship, but I hadn’t yet allowed myself to consider a future relationship with another person. I said what I thought I needed to say to avoid our relationship turning into the one I had with Amelia. But ever since you told me how you felt about me, it made me realise nothing about us has ever been platonic to me. I have never thought of you that way, and even when I tried to, I didn’t know how to look at you in any other way than lovingly. I feel so much for you. I could see myself loving you so easily. I’m just really afraid. I don’t know if I’m ready to navigate that all over again.”

It took me a while to respond, taking in everything he said in a state of such vulnerability. I noticed a stray tear on my skirt; it was his. I immediately reached out to hold his hands in comfort. I opened my mouth to respond but was cut off yet again.

“I will never allow anyone to say a word against you ever again, love.” He added

“I care a lot about you, Fred. I reacted the way I did, with such force and conviction, because it’s unfamiliar to me too, feeling so deeply for someone. Whatever you want to come from this, we can do. I want to learn to keep my independence through my feelings for you. I don’t think declaring something more than friendship will change things between us overnight, and I think all we need to do is keep being us.”

“Okay”, he responded timidly but surely.

He could’ve just stopped there, but I’d come to learn that’s never something to expect from him.

“I absolutely did jack off to you last night, though.”

I kicked him in the shin as we walked back to the castle, hand in hand.

End

✩ I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE ANY OF MY WRITING POSTED ON ANY EXTERNAL WEBSITES ✩

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lacroixwh0r3 · 11 months ago

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The First Taste (p. 3)

DBF!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: You thought that it was just going to be you and your dad watching football together, but a lonely Joel comes over to join you two.

Warnings: SMUT!! pet names, porn with little plot, dom!joel, age gap, PiV, daddy kink, joel is a little bit of a perv, cursing, breast play?, reader and joel almost caught by reader's dad, teasing, fingering, slight dom!reader, hair pulling, football, joel is lonely, mentions of sarah, tommy, and maria

Song Inspo (feel free to listen if you want): Bathroom by Montell Fish

Part 1 Part 2

A/N: not me being gone for months...i swear i did not forget about yall! i had this saved in a google doc since november and haven't had the time nor motivation to finish it until now YAY

Enjoy babies! Please reblog, share, like, and comment if you want. <333

It was a shame—there you were, sitting on the couch at home on a Thursday night, waiting for your dad to get back from the store so the two of you could have some snacks while watching football. You didn’t know much about the sport, but it’s not like you had nothing better to do.

You called your friend and asked her if she would be down to hang out tonight, but lately, she would much rather hang out with her boyfriend than her best friend. While you were a little disappointed by her response, a part of you also felt relieved by her answer.

It’s not like you had much energy these days after recently getting a job as a teacher assistant at the local elementary school, and while it had been a job that you enjoyed a lot, it was also a demanding job that took a lot of your energy. You were constantly running back and forth from the classroom to the copy room to grab a stack of papers for the teacher, occasionally having to console kids or sometimes having to stop a lesson because someone peed themselves. The teachers would also ask you to create lessons for the day, which took up a lot of your free time outside of the classroom. You didn’t mind it though; after all, it is your job, and more often than not, the kids were sweet and would be on their best behavior depending on the day.

Today was different; you weren’t as tired as you usually are after work, you didn’t have any work to do, and you had the day off tomorrow. And for that, you were grateful.

You were lazily stretched out on the couch, watching whatever was on ESPN before the game was set to start. You check your phone for the time and notice that it is almost 8 o'clock and your dad isn't back yet.

It shouldn’t take him this long to get back, you think to yourself.

You decide to call him to check up on him, but as soon as you press his contact, you hear a knock at the front door. This confused you for a second because your dad usually used his key to open the door, but maybe he couldn’t since he was carrying bags. You get off the couch and walk to the front door.

“Took you long enou-” you say right as you swing the door, thinking that it was your dad. However, you cut yourself off when you realized who it was.

No, it was not your dad, but the last person you were expecting to see today.

The one and only Joel-fucking-Miller

“Joel,” you try to sound as normal as possible, but it was obvious from your tone that you were shocked. “W-what are you doing here?” You asked him. You could see the corner of his lips quirk up at your nervousness before going back to his usual serious look.

It’s not like it is uncommon for Joel to be over at your house, but it was usually during the times you were out of the house. Or your dad would be the one to greet him at the door. After Tommy and Maria moved away and Sarah was out of the house more, Joel's appearances at your house became more frequent.

“Just here to watch the game with your dad,” he says as he points inside the house. “You mind if I come in, darlin’?”

“Shit! I’m sorry,” you say, opening the door wider and moving out of the way. “Please, come in.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he says as he enters. You could smell his warm scent just as he walked right past you, making you almost want to go and throw yourself onto him.

As you were closing the door, you closed your eyes and let out a loud sigh before making your way back to the couch. You felt like a baby deer walking for the first time because you could feel Joel’s eyes on you. And to make matters worse, your legs had brushed against his as you passed by him, causing you to apologize immediately as if he were going to eat you for accidentally touching him.

“You’re fine, sweetheart,” he chuckles. You sigh with relief before sitting down on the couch, leaving a seat between the two of you.

The two of you sat there in silence—you sat there tense, while Joel sat there relaxed and unaffected.

A sense of guilt crept up on you as you sat there, looking at the TV screen in deep thought.

It had been about two years since whatever that was between you and Joel at the lake, and you still felt guilt whenever your dad would bring him up to you.

Whenever Joel did come around, he usually brought Sarah with him, and you would hang out with her most of the time. You felt bad for using Sarah as an escape from her dad, but you couldn’t deal with being around Joel.

“Your dad told me about that new job of yours,” Joel asked you, causing you to look over at him. He was looking at you with frowning eyebrows and eyes full of curiosity. “How’s it goin’?”

“It’s nice; it’s fun working with the kids and all that stuff.” You say, sounding a little too enthusiastic.

“That’s good, sweetheart. I’m proud of you.” He says sincerely, and the dimple on his cheek deepens as he gives you a small grin, almost causing your heart to jump out of your chest.

Thanks. You say lowly as your face warms up at his words. You liked hearing him say he was proud of you; it made you feel tingly and warm inside. “How’s Sarah been? I haven't seen her around lately,” you say as you try to replace the silence that fell over you two.

"Oh, that girl—she's hardly ever home these days,” Joel sighs in defeat as he scratches his graying beard. “I can’t even get her to sit down and have a meal with me,” he said lowly.

All you could do was stare at Joel with a sympathetic look.

Looking up from his lap, Joel's eyes sparkled with amusement as he looked at you. Watching as you stared at him with your lips frowned down. “Don’t look at me like I'm some wounded animal, sweet girl. I’ll be just fine.” His southern accent sounds more prominent as he says it.

“Sorry,” you mumbled as you looked away from him, feeling embarrassed for some reason.

Joel was about to say something to you before you heard the sounds of keys at the front door. You knew that it must’ve been your dad at the door, struggling to get his keys, so you helped him. However, Joel stopped you from getting up after he put his arm in front of you as he got off the couch.

“I’ll help him, sweetheart,” he says as he winks at you and makes his way to the door to help your dad.

Oh, Joel.

As soon as Joel opens the door, they both loudly greet each other. He grabs the bags out of your dad's hands and makes his way to the kitchen, where he helps him put things away.

A part of you knew deep down that it was going to be a long night.

…

About halfway through the game, you were falling asleep as you sat comfortably in the corner of the couch, covered in your blanket. However, your dad and Joel made sure to keep you up as they talked loudly to each other or even loudly cursed at the TV.

Suddenly, your dad’s phone began to ring loudly, interrupting their conversation.

You could hear the groan of the leather recliner as your dad stretched out so that he could reach into his pocket to grab his phone.

“Ah, fuck,” your dad says as he looks at the caller ID. “Gotta take this real quick,” your dad says as he gets up and looks at Joel. “Let me know what happens,” he says as he gestures to the TV, to which Joel nods his head. Joel watched as your dad shuffled down the hall and into his office before shutting the door behind him.

It was now just the two of you, alone.

You knew he was watching you because you could feel Joel’s gaze burning into your skin, and you were trying your hardest not to look at him. You sat there, as stiff as a board, as your breathing began to pick up.

“You alright there, darlin’? You look a little nervous over there."

“I’m fine, Joel,” you said curtly as you kept your eyes on the TV.

He lets out a deep hum, and you almost feel yourself relax as you believe that is the end of your interaction. But Joel speaks again: “Why don’t you come sit with me, sweetheart?" he said as he patted the open spot next to him on the couch.

You look over at him, and you see that he has this smirk on his face. “I ain’t gonna bite you too hard, baby,” he winks at you with a click of his tongue. You felt

“Come on and be a good girl before your daddy comes back, yeah?”

It was evident that Joel knew how to talk to you and get you to do anything he wanted because you hesitantly rose off of the couch and made your way over to him. His devilish smirk grows wider, making you even more nervous.

Just as you are about to sit down next to him, Joel grabs your hips with his strong hands, causing you to let out a yelp as you plop down on his lap. And there you were, sitting sideways on his lap with your back against the arm of the couch.

You could feel the anger bubbling inside of you at his actions. You were upset that he would grab you like that.

You turned your head to look at Joel as you began to quietly scold him, afraid that your dad would come out of his office and find you sitting on his friend's lap. “Are you actually out of your fucking mind, Joel? What if my dad-”

Before you could continue, Joel cut you off by placing his warm hand on your thigh with that smirk still on his face. "Oh, darlin’, we’re just sitting here,” he says while looking at you with his brown eyes as he begins to stroke close to your inner thigh with his fingers. “Unless you want me to do somethin’ else," he almost whispers to you as he strokes his fingers further up your thigh.

You turned your focus away from Joel and to where he was touching you, nearly letting out soft whimpers, but you stopped yourself before they could escape your mouth. “You like that, baby?" He says this as he holds his other hand, resting on the couch, to the back of your neck, holding a firm grip.

Rather than responding, you just shook your head, leaving Joel unsatisfied because he knew you were lying. He takes his hand from your thigh and brings it to your neck. Now, both of his hands were holding you in place by your neck, and you would be lying again if you said you didn’t enjoy this.

“Don’t fuckin lie to me, girl. Look me in the eyes and tell me you liked it,” he says as his erection grows.

You decided you were going to have fun as well.

With his firm grip of both of his hands around your neck, you try your best to turn your head and look at him fully. You look down at his lips before looking into his eyes. “Mm, I loved it, Joel."

And you were going to take it a step further by placing your hand over his on your throat and making him grip it tighter. “I love it so much, Daddy." You whispered even though the TV volume was high enough that your dad wouldn’t hear what was going on.

You watch the smirk leave his face, and this dark look flashes in his eyes; he’s serious now.

“I bet you do, baby,” he says in his husky voice as his fingers dig into your neck. You move your hand down to his wrist as your other one goes for his pointer finger and brings it to your warm mouth. Joel inhales sharply as you suck on the tip of his finger and tease your tongue around it. The sensation of you sucking on his finger immediately shot down to his cock, causing it to strain in his pants, and you could feel it against your thigh.

Everything about the situation turned Joel on—something about the thrill of his best friend walking out of his office and seeing his daughter sitting on his lap while she sucked on his finger turned him on. He watched closely as your lips were wrapped around his finger, watching as the spit slid down his finger.

It felt like the two of you were in your world before hearing your dad’s office door swing open. The two of you immediately began to panic; you pulled Joel’s finger out of your mouth and threw yourself off of his lap and onto the cushion next to him as you heard your dad’s footsteps creeping closer to the living room. There wasn’t much time to scoot away from Joel without looking suspicious, but you tried to leave an appropriate amount of space between you two.

In the corner of your eye, you see Joel drop his hands down onto his lap to cover his erection.

“Well, what happened?” Your dad asked as he flopped down into his leather recliner with a groan.

“Not sure,” Joel says coolly as he reaches over to grab his beer from the coffee table and takes a quick sip—still trying to cover himself.

“What the hell do you mean? You were right here the whole time." Your dad further pushes for an answer.

God, if only he knew the real reason, he’d freak out. He’d probably do more than freak out.

“We were talkin’ the whole time; wasn’t even payin’ attention,” Joel said with amusement. “Ain’t that right, darlin’?” he says as he gently nudges your knee. Meanwhile, you could feel your face heating with embarrassment at his words, knowing they weren’t true. What the two of you were doing was far from just talking.

You looked over at Joel with a wide, fake smile and said, “Yup, that’s right. Joel was just showing me something on his phone."

Your dad mutters something under his breath as he turns his attention to the game, causing you to finally drop the fake smile. Meanwhile, you and Joel are still staring at each other; more so, you are giving him a death glare while he looks at you with an entertained gleam in his eyes. Once he did look away, you couldn't take your eyes off of him.

You didn’t know if you were mad or if you wanted to fuck him.

…

For the rest of the time, you busied yourself by being on your phone the whole time. The conversation between Joel and your dad had come to a stop after your dad kicked his feet up on his recliner, laid back, and went to sleep, leaving Joel to watch the game by himself silently.

Whenever Joel got bored or there was a commercial break, he would pick up his phone and check his email or text messages before setting his phone back down and letting out a loud huff.

There was a part of you that felt bad for not making conversation with him, but you were unable to shake the sexual tension that lingered between you two.

You drop your phone on your lap before turning to Joel and clearing your throat to catch his attention. “Can I get you water or something?” You ask Joel over the sound of the football commentator's laughter and your dad’s snoring.

Joel’s eyes move from the TV to you, making you feel nervous now that his attention is on you. “I’m good, darlin’,” he says as he gives you a quick, small smile before turning his gaze back to the game.

You just nodded your head, even though he wasn’t looking at you, and attempted to distract yourself with your phone again.

So much for making conversation, you think to yourself as you cringe with embarrassment.

In the midst of you scrolling through your Instagram feed, you feel a warm, callused hand snake onto your thigh, almost scaring the living hell out of you until you realized it was’s hand Joe

You both sat silently, making no attempt to move an inch as his hand rested on the inside of your thigh, almost as if he were waiting for you to push his hand away, but you never did.

Instead, you make sure that your dad is still sound asleep before you shift your body towards Joel, inching your body closer to him. You adjusted yourself so that your left leg was up with the blanket draped over it, while the other one rested halfway on Joel’s thigh. If your dad were to wake up, it’s not like he would know what you and Joel were doing.

He starts to stroke your thigh before slowly moving his hand up and stopping at the band of your sweatpants. Your heart was racing, so eager for him to touch you.

Without looking, Joel’s fingers find the waistband of your sweatpants, causing your breathing to hitch and your heart to beat faster. Once his fingers sip in, he slowly reaches your center. You felt as if you were on the brink of cumming right then and there. His touch was slow and sensual, as he gently teased your clit as he spread your arousal.

Who knew a man like him could touch you like this?

You felt your senses becoming clouded as he did this. Oh fuck, you whimpered a little too loudly before you could even realize it, making you slap your hand over your mouth.

Joel looks down at you, continuing to spread your wetness around. “You okay, darlin’?” He asks you so casually, as if his hands are not in your pants, rubbing your clit. You can see the look in his eyes as his eyebrows quirked, waiting for you to answer him.

Mmhm, you whimper after letting out a shaky sigh as you finally release your hand from over your mouth.

He leaned over so he could whisper to you, “You like that, baby? You like when I play with that pretty pussy?” You nodded in response as you bit down on your bottom lip, fearing that if you did open your mouth, you would immediately wake up your dad. “I know you do; you like it when daddy makes you feel good, yeah?”

Joel’s eyes quickly shifted to your dad before looking back at you. That’s when his slow circles became faster. Again, you slapped your hand over your mouth, trying to conceal any noises, while the other clawed at Joel’s forearm. Your thighs trembled as you neared the edge of your orgasm; your eyes were closed, and your head dropped onto Joel’s shoulder.

“Y'gonna cum, girl?” Joel says lowly, his fingers never letting up as he applies more pressure. “Answer me, or else you won’t cum at all.” You tried to get the words to come out of your mouth, but you couldn't, as the knot in your stomach was nearly unraveled for him.

Sticking to his word, Joel watched as you got closer and closer to your orgasm—watching the way your hand tried to wrap around his wrist, the way that you held your breath, or the way your toes wiggled in your socks before going completely still—that's when he knew you were about to cum.

However, he quickly pulled his hand from your pants, leaving you in a state of disappointment and shock. It was almost hilarious to Joel as he watched the wave of disappointment and anger flash over your face. He knew you wanted to scold him, but he didn’t care.

“Aw, you mad, baby?” Joel teased, making you roll your eyes at him. “You should be a good girl next time and listen.”

Then, an idea pops into your head.

“Come to the bathroom with me." You whisper to him before getting up and running to the bathroom, not waiting for an answer from him.

You were determined to get your way with him, even if that meant having your way with him in your bathroom.

Once you were in the bathroom, your heart was pounding as you listened to the sound of Joel’s heavy feet making their way up the stairs and to the bathroom.

He softly knocks on the door with his knuckle before he opens the door halfway and slips inside. As soon as he shut the door behind himself and turned around to you, you grabbed Joel by his collar and smashed your lips against his. Even though you had shocked Joel with your forwardness, he had no problem returning your kiss. His hands were pawing at your back as you began to release his collar and go down to his belt. Joel’s cock strained in his pants as you hurriedly undid his belt and pants.

Once you did finally get it open and pull his pants down enough to gain access to his cock, you broke the kiss and looked down.

You gasp, and your mouth waters at the sight.

The dark hairs that sat on the base complimented Joel’s thick, heavy cock beautifully.

You drag your fingers through the fuzz before gripping his shaft and stroking down to the head of his cock. He softly moans your name. “Is this all for me, Joel?” You asked him as you looked into his eyes, and his grip on your back tightened.

He had to keep his composure as you began to stroke him at a slow pace. “All for you, baby,” he says, his eyes looking deeply into yours with a look you can only describe as lustful. He looked at you as if he were going to devour you, and you would gladly let him.

With every stroke, Joel would pull you closer to him, still making eye contact as you did it.

“Does my hand feel good wrapped around your cock, Joel?” You cooed at him and began to speed up your pace on his heavy cock, not giving him any time to respond. His eyebrows immediately frowned with pleasure as he licked his lips. “You like it when I stroke you like this?”

Because of his lack of response, you reach your arm up to bring his head close to your face, still stroking his cock. “Come on, Joel. Answer me.” You ask him lowly in his ear, demanding from him like he did to you on the couch. After you said this, you felt him immediately thrust into your fist as his hands flew down on you and he groaned into your neck.

“Feels so good, darlin’,” he says, borderline moaning at the way you were making him feel.

Not that Joel was getting laid daily, but when he did, women never acted this way with him. It was usually him who was the dominant one calling the shots, but he liked what you were doing to him. And it was wrong—it was wrong for him to love it this much, especially because of how much younger you were than him and because your dad is one of his closest friends.

You feel his facial hair on your neck as he begins to place soft kisses there. “You’re so big, Joel.” You whimper, still stroking him. “I want you to fuck me."

“Yeah?” he says against your neck before grunting. “You think you can handle this cock, darlin’?”

"You think you can handle me, old man?” You say it back to him, trying to get under his skin, which worked because he pulled away from your neck and looked at you with a cocked eyebrow.

“Come on, take your clothes off, darlin’,” he tells you as he tugs at your shirt and releases you from his hold. You start by pulling off your shirt and then going to your bottoms. While you did this, you took in Joel’s appearance.

He stood there with his jean shirt exposing his chest and neck, his curls wildly laid against his forehead, and his hard cock hanging out of his pants. He looked like something straight out of a porn magazine.

Joel noticed that you were struggling with your bra as he watched you try to unhook it. “Here, let me help you, darlin’.” You nodded your head and turned around.

In the mirror, you can see Joel shamelessly eyeing your ass before looking back up and meeting your eyes in the mirror. You look back at him with a cocked eyebrow, letting him know that you saw him staring at your ass. And without saying anything, he steps forward and gives your ass a quick spank, causing an echo in the bathroom. You let out a yelp—surprised and turned on at the same time.

“Joel,” you scold him as you look at him through the mirror.

Yeah, yeah, was all he said as he brushed off your words. He quickly undoes your bra before sliding the straps down your arms with his fingertips and letting the undergarment fall onto the floor. While he did this, you felt a tingle run down your spine as you began to form goosebumps on your arm, and your nipples hardened.

“Fuck, look at that." His voice trails off as he looks at your breasts through the mirror. “Lookin’ so desperate for your daddy, ain’t that right, darlin'?" You watch as his arms snake around you before he cups your breasts. Thoughtlessly, you nodded your head in agreement with him; however, in the midst of that, Joel began to tweak your nipples with his thumb and pointer fingers.

He lets out a deep hum, almost in approval, as he takes in the sight of you two and gives your nipple one last tug before his left hand trails down slowly, while the right is still cupping your breast. Joel’s fingers dove between your thighs, teasingly rubbing his warm, thick fingers on your lips as he gathered the arousal that dripped from you. You release a muffled whine as you press your lips shut.

“Jesus Christ, darlin’,” Joel growls in your ear as he brings his hand to eye level to observe your wetness that was clinging onto his fingers before licking it off. You watch through the mirror as he licks every last drop off of his fingers. “Fucking delicious,” he mutters quietly as he pulls them out of his mouth before placing a soft kiss on your neck and shoulder.

You feel your stomach tighten with longing for the older man, and your head becomes fizzy, making you close your eyes and roll your head to the side.

That was until Joel moved his hand from your breast and up to your throat. “Uh-uh, I want you to keep lookin’,” he says firmly, causing your eyes to flutter open and catch his eyes in the mirror. “That’s right, darlin’,” Joel mutters.

With the size of his hand, he had a firm grip on your neck, ensuring your head did not move from the mirror.

Joel brings his fingers back down to your pussy and brings your lower half closer to his. As he played with your clit, you could feel him humping against your ass, spreading his precum on it. You tried so hard to stop the moans from slipping out. It was to the point that you could almost feel the skin on your bottom lip begin to tear.

You let out a huff of air before looking at Joel with pleading eyes. “Fuck, Joel I-I need you to fuck me. Please,” You beg him in your softest voice.

“You’d like that? Wouldn’t you, darlin’?” Joel taunts you while still rubbing a circle around your clit.

"Yes!" you moaned at him.

“I know you would, pretty girl,” While playing with your clit, Joel spoke lowly in your ear again. “Daddy’s gonna take good care of you; don’t worry.”

Without wasting a second, he releases his grip around your neck and moves his hands away from your pussy. He places his hand on your back and slowly pushes you over the sink, while he uses the other to spread your legs open. Your hands grip the sides of the sink with your face inches away from the mirror, breathing heavily as you watch Joel.

You could feel your pussy clench around nothing as he grabbed onto your waist and spit onto his fingers before rubbing it onto his cock. Joel teases your slit with the fleshy tip of his cock, forcing a mixture of a moan and a groan out of your mouth. You push your ass against him, hoping that he'll allow himself to enter you. And he does.

The moment his head pushed into you, you could feel yourself stretching around him as you both met each other's thrust. Straightaway, you and Joel were gasping at the sensation.

“Holy hell, darlin’,” Joel groans shakily as his eyes clamp. “Tight fuckin’ cunt you got.”

“You’re so big,” you weep quietly to him as you begin to slowly fuck yourself onto his cock. “I can feel you deep in me.”

Joel let out a breathy chuckle. “Fuck—look at you, so fucking desperate for my cock,” he taunts while he strokes your ass with his wide palm, making an effort not to bring it down onto your ass cheek. “Tell me how much you like having me in you."

This made you want to keep going, wanting to keep pleasing Joel, so you picked up. You made sure to throw your ass back on him as much as possible.

“So much—I love it so much, fucking much, daddy."

You weren’t sure where this was coming from, but you liked it.

“Oh fuck, I know you do, baby. Keep fucking yourself onto my cock." Joel nearly growls as you watch him in the mirror intently. You watch as he looks down, where you are both connected with a slack jaw, taking in the view.

You are now making it your mission to make him cum. And for some reason, you didn’t mind prioritizing Joel’s pleasure over your own—with past hookups, you made it your priority to get yours before letting them get theirs first.

But this was something different; you liked being able to make a man like Joel cum first.

The sound of your ass hitting his front was loud, and his heavy breathing almost made you cum. But with a lot of restraint, you were able to keep yourself from letting your eyes roll to the back of your head and watch Joel inch closer to his orgasm.

“Cum for me, Joel,” you moan, encouraging him as he curses. You thought that he was going to thrust into you as he held you in place, but instead, you felt him quickly pull out of you, resting his damp forehead on your back as he tried to catch his breath. You let out a whine of disappointment. “Why’d you pull out?”

It took him a couple of seconds to respond, “I been wanting to fuck you since I first laid eyes on you, pretty girl. You think I’d cum that fast?" He asked you.

“Now, come on, put your leg up so Daddy can go deeper, baby.” He tells you as he taps your thigh.

Deeper? How much deeper does he need to go? You ask yourself; nonetheless, you still did as he said, a little curious.

You tightly grip the sink and begin to put your feet on the toilet lid. Joel makes sure to hold onto your hips and guide your foot. “Trust me, sweetheart, it’ll feel real good,” he says with a grin.

He firmly grabs your hips and drills into you without any warning. “Oh my god,” you moan loudly while deeply inhaling. “Fuck, Joel!” you said, feeling overwhelmed by the feeling of the tip of Joel’s cock pressed deeply inside of you.

With this new position, you could feel every inch of him in you—the head of his cock, his shaft, the way his cock twitched when he felt your pussy fluttering around him.

“I know, it’s okay,” he says after he hushes you, attempting to keep you quiet. “You just gotta—fuck—you gotta stay quiet.”

An ache formed in Joel’s lower back from his speed, and he knew it would fuck up his whole day tomorrow, but that didn’t stop him.

You feel Joel’s fingers grab a handful of your hair, starting from the root, and tug your body to his.

He noticed that your eyes were tightly closed as he continued to brutally thrust into you. With his grip still firm on your hair, he grabs your neck with his other hand and holds you in place. “Op-open your eyes, pretty girl. Look at yourself while I fuck this tight pussy of yours,” Joel grunts into your ear, making you whimper.

You force yourself to open your eyes, and when you do, the familiar knot in your stomach almost comes undone.

“Don’t stop, baby." Your voice quivers as your legs tremble. But with Joel’s grip on your neck, he stops you from going down. “I-I’m gonna cum,”

The bathroom was filled with all types of noises as he was now slowly fucking you through your orgasm.

“Cum for daddy, darlin’, cum all over my cock.”

And that’s when you finally came.

Over the sounds of skin slapping and the squelching from your wet pussy, Joel talks you through your orgasm, whispering how much of a good girl you were for him and how good you were making him feel.

He finally slowed down his pace as you came down. He could feel your cunt pulsate on his cock, bringing him to his climax.

Joel releases you and pulls out before jerking off on your ass and spilling his warm seed onto your soft skin.

“Oh my god, Joel,” you moan as you feel the thick, milky white substance paint your ass. By the second spurt of cum hitting your ass, he bites down on your shoulder, trying to silence his loud, tired groans as he cums.

You made Joel cum harder than he ever did before.

After a few deep breaths later, you and Joel had finally calmed down, feeling fucked out and tired.

He lets out a sigh before wiping the sweat off his forehead and looking down at the watch on his wrist. “Alright, darlin’,” he says as he tucks himself back into his pants and fixes his shirt. “Gotta get out of here before your old man wakes up."

“It was a little too late for you to say that now,” you joke with a relaxed grin on your face as you turn around to him to get one more look at him. It quickly fell when you realized that Joel could hardly look you in the eyes. “You okay?”

He tries to give you his best phony smile while attempting to look you in the eyes. ”I’m fine, sweetheart; I gotta get home to Sarah before it gets too late." Joel lies through his teeth and avoids eye contact again, hoping that you couldn’t see through him. “You should get yourself cleaned up and ready for bed. I’ll straighten up and use the spare to lock the door when I go." He nods his head at you in a bid to say bye and reaches for the doorknob as if he wasn’t balls deep in you a few minutes ago.

You move out of his way, and he leaves without either of you saying another word to each other.

And there you were—naked, ass covered in his cum, embarrassed, and hurt.

A/N: i will make a masterlist soon i swear but I hope y'all liked it!! *MWAH*

#smut #the last of us #joel x reader #joel miller #joel the last of us #joel miller smut #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x reader #neighbor!joel #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #dads best friend #dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel miller x reader #dbf!joel x you

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