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octoberautumnbox · 5 months ago

Note

Consider: Yubin who's your seatmate and is very professional in school but every night at 10pm you get the raciest, sauciest, spiciest nudes from her with no warning

Hell Week

tripleS Gong Yubin & Male Reader

Categories/warnings: smut, that's p much all anyone needs to know i think

Word count: 5.5k holy shit

a/n: jeez howd it get this long :nolookk: oh btw i took some liberties with the prompt not that u care heres the fuckin yubin fic :DDDD

~~~

A hand lays itself on your shoulder, the sudden contact nearly making you jump. You turn around and find Yubin clutching a book to her chest with a gentle look on her features. Gesture over to the chair across from you, all the while trying to get your heart rate back under control.

“My bad, didn't see you were locked in.” She gets into the chair left of you anyway and turns her book to the same page as yours. “How's it going?”

You stretch and groan to let out as much of your tiredness as you can, paying just a bit of mind to everyone else in the library doing pretty much the same. “Dunno. Around twenty minutes ago I accepted I'm retaking this class. What's up with you?”

She giggles while her eyes scan across the paragraphs talking about desert flora and types of precipitation. She rests her cheek on her palm, “I still have a bit of fight in me, but I'm losing hope. I was hoping I could borrow some from you.”

“Sorry, Yubin,” you whisper with every ounce of sympathy you had, “fresh out.” You return to your own book, yet all you do is run your eyes over the same page over and over without much staying in your head.

A cursory look over to your left shows you scholar-mode Gong Yubin: focused, sharp, and serious. Not that it ever got in the way of you two being friends, but when she gets like this, you know better than to underestimate her–she's capable of plotting the downfall of kingdoms if she set her mind to it.

However, at the same time, you notice her distress, then immediately notice how well she hides it. It's the same slight crease of her eyebrows in freshman orientation, after midterms in Linguistics 103, and when she finally stopped putting off Geology 102. The realization dawns on you: the situation is dire now that she asks for your help while she's like this, so how could you let her down now?

“Bet you I can score higher,” you challenge her. You have no good reason to issue such a proposition, but if it means giving her support how it matters, whatever embarrassing thing she'll make you do is more than worth it.

It piques her interest and a smile pulls up the corners of her lips. She side-eyes you with an excitement she didn't have just two minutes prior, and you know it worked. “If I win,” she announces as loud as she's allowed to, “make me thick tofu stew. The right way.”

“Really? That's it?” Then you rebut with just as much fervor, “If I win, you do three of my essays in comparative lit next semester.”

“Now hold the fuck on,” she stumbles, her eyes grown wide and her smile grown toothy, “if you're gonna raise the stakes like that, I need to think of something else!”

Your phone and hers vibrate at the same time, and your screen reads “Get your ass over to Geog.” You both pack your bags and head off to your last Geology class before finals together, and as your book takes its place in the darkness of your backpack, “Fine, but I get to change mine too when I hear yours,” and the spring in her step as you walk tells you it's mission accomplished.

~~~

In hindsight, it really wasn’t all that bad. The class review session your professor held that day helped you nail down just enough of whatever the fuck sleet might be, and while you're certain it isn't flying colors, your grade at least wouldn't be red.

Coming out of the exam room, you spot Yubin just seconds before she finds you, and your good deed pays for itself as she skips to approach.

“Got a good feeling?” There was no point in asking other than that you had to hear it from her, though the wide grin on her face was proof enough.

“Yeah, I think barely,” she sways cutely from side to side, “and don't think you're off the hook!” She hits you light on the arm, and the most shining feature you can’t ignore is her eyebrows without any sign or symptom of the crease.

“Not over ‘til the fat lady sings, Gong Yubin,” though you know she's already won. “Three whole essays against… Haven't you decided yet?”

“No, not yet, but the bet is still on!”

You relent, “Fine, fine. Anyway, Nakyoung’s treating the gang to drinks tonight. Wanna come?”

“Nah, busy. Laundry and stuff.” She shifts her weight from foot to foot, and you can tell she’s giddy about what her grade is going to turn out to be. It’s a sight for sore eyes, especially ones that have seen too many grainy tectonic plates and water cycle diagrams. “And why do you insist on full-naming her?”

“I know someone whose name sounds the exact same. As far as I’m concerned, our Nakyoung’s the other Naky.” You place your hand on the small of her back and lead her away from the doorway, and she walks with you without a second thought.

“Mean. You’ll have to introduce me to this first Naky, then.” You slide into rhythm with her gait, and it hits you just how relieved you are for Yubin’s worries to be over.

It seems such a waste, you think, that laundry is the only thing keeping her away from celebrating, so as you walk out of the Social Sciences building, you bargain one more time: “We’ll be there all night, so just come by when you’re done. I speak for everyone when I say we want you to come, please?”

She giggles again, “I’ll see what I can do. It’s not like I don’t wanna be there, either. Plus,” she admits defeatedly, “we’re getting the results later, and God knows I’d rather not be alone when it comes.”

~~~

“Hey, where's Yubin?” Nakyoung slings an arm around your shoulder and shoves another mug of beer into your hand. It's a welcome gesture, and it takes all of two and a half seconds for you to down half of it.

“She has laundry,” you nearly shout back your reply above the music. “Said she'll drop by if she has time.”

Nakyoung makes to yell another reply right into your ear, but decides to pull you away into one of the quieter booths in the bar. “She's a goody-two-shoes, no? Laundry, oh please. Kaede hasn't done laundry in two years.” She takes a gulp of her own beer and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Hey. She studied her ass off for that test. I made a bet with her and it looks like she has high spirits, but I honestly dunno what I'd do if she fails.”

Your friend takes your chin up with her finger and you realize how pensive an expression was sitting on your face. “This is Gong Yubin. You know she'll kill it.” Nakyoung flashes a confident smile, and it reassures you almost more than your own trust in Yubin herself. “You drunk yet?”

“Nah, not getting shitfaced without Yubin.”

“Cute. You know she likes you too?”

“Go fuck yourself, Nakyoung. Go steal Seoyeon's boyfriend while you're at it.”

“I wish; she has him under lock and key. But I wouldn't really mind both of them,” she muses, eyeing Seoyeon in the middle of the dancefloor.

Just then, the devil strolls in through the front door. “Hi! You weren't kidding, it's really loud in here,” Yubin exclaims with her hands shielding her ears as she adjusts to the noise.

She takes Nakyoung's seat–you whip your head around and find Nakyoung at the dancefloor, with Seoyeon grinding against her–and picks up Nakyoung's old mug. She takes a careful sip and ends it with a relieved ahhhh, before setting it back down and getting to business. She leans in like keeping a secret, though she can't hide her toothy grin. “Have you seen your grade yet?”

“It's out?!” You fumble for your phone, and the second it lights up, cold runs through your veins–the email notification is the first thing at the top of the screen. Meanwhile, Yubin calmly slides her phone across the table to you. She asks “I read yours, you read mine?” with the sweetest smile on her face, again with the slight crease on her eyebrows.

Calm your nerves, silence the alarms blaring in your head. You know she did well, absolutely certain. However, it still doesn't soothe you enough; not until you see the grades for yourself. So, as your thumb hovers over her email, your heart nearly beats out of your chest, only to see–

“You got 87 percent,” Yubin states in the blandest, matter-of-fact tone you've ever heard. Her eyes move left and right over the same spot on your phone, making ultimate certain that she's reading it right. Once she is, her tone softens just enough, “Yeah, 87 percent. Wow, that's good,” she sighs with relief, “... Hard to beat.”

Now her turn, you peek at her score. doing the same making sure, and then some. When you read it for the fifth time, you kick yourself mentally for being so worried and having such little trust in the genius that is Gong Yubin. “Goddamn, 95 percent.”

Her eyes widen like sinkholes as her hand flies to cover her mouth. It almost doesn't matter that you hand her back her phone; she snatches it back anyway. Her disbelief chips away at itself with every run through of the email she reads for herself, and when she's finally done, returns her shocked gaze back to you.

“You were that scared of three essays?” you joke. The beer tastes sweeter now that your worries have gone, and as if all six septillion kilograms of the world is off your shoulders.

“No, three essays is easy,” she taunts, but immediately her voice takes on a gentler tone, “so I win, right?”

You scoff at her haughtiness, but your relief triumphs over all. “Yeah, whatever. What do you want?”

“... I wanna go home. This is enough excitement for one day.”

“Alright, let me take you. Tell me in the cab what you want for winning, though?”

“Sure,” she says with a tiny smile.

~~~

“So,” she declares. She catches her breath, and her face is overcome with a subtle red flush, “about the bet.”

“Yeah, about the bet.”

“I want…” and she hesitates. The cab runs over a mild speed bump, and the resulting sway seemingly knocks her completely out of focus. She gathers her resolve once more, as if every time she tries to speak she drops it and has to pick it up again.

“You want…?”

It's a good couple minutes of her breathing heavily, and your concern shows itself for her and whatever she has planned for you.

“Is it illegal? What could possibly be so bad that you're hesitating this much?”

“No, no, shut up. I'm working on it.” She takes one last deep breath, even placing a hand on her heart to steady it. “I want… a cum tribute.”

“... A cum tribute.”

“Yes.”

“You want me to…?”

“I'll send you a photo. And do it on that.”

“You want a photo of–”

“Video.”

“You–video?”

“I want a video. Of you. Cumming on a photo. My photo. I'll send it to you.”

There's no way the cab driver doesn't think this is weird. Then again, he has an earphone in, so he might not be listening in at all. You get the feeling Yubin doesn't care either way, completely focused on you.

“... Alright. You want it this bad, fine.”

“Good. Um,” she follows, “sorry in advance. It's gonna be my first time… taking a photo like this.” She refocuses her attention to the buildings whizzing by outside as she says it, the telltale sign the conversation is over. Still, it lingers in your head for a little while: Yubin's first time.

~~~

“Look, I'm sorry,” she sighs, “just come up with me? Please?”

You're standing with her outside her dorm, all the while the meter ticks away in the cab. The driver waits expectantly inside for you to get back, but Yubin's fingers wrapped around your sleeve make for a very difficult decision.

“Okay, okay, just let me pay the cab driver,” you concede, but as soon as you sum up the fare, Yubin snatches it from you and brings it over herself. She and the driver exchange a few words, ending with her waving him off and him leaving her in the dust. She waddles back with her signature grin: the one that tries and fails to hide her excitement.

“Can I just ask why you want it so bad?”

She shakes her head, “Nope. Now shush,” as you both make the now-silent trek up the four flights of stairs to her floor and room.

Upon entering, you immediately notice it's nicer than most dorm rooms: huge space, carpet floors, a big window, and two double-size beds, not to mention its own bathroom. It makes you stop and wonder if you ever glossed over any signs that Yubin or her family might come from old money.

“Uhh, give me a few minutes to get ready. The bed on the right is mine, make yourself at home. WiFi password by the light switch. Kaede doesn't like her stuff messed with, so steer clear.” Yubin then disappears into the bathroom, and you lay yourself down on her bed. You're made aware of how you sink comfortably into the memory foam, and of the disarming fragrance that wafts from her bedsheets and pillowcases. She's always smelled like this, you recall, but it's rather nice, you finally admit.

“Hey,” Yubin attempts. She sits on the edge of her bed next to you, wearing a set of pajamas and no makeup at all. You always knew Yubin was a pretty girl, God knows how many times she's been asked out, but seeing her like this is new; her allure draws you in with a smile and an embrace. Shit, was Nakyoung right? Do you like her?

“So… How do you want me?” She avoids your eyes and touches her fingertips together, a blush forming on her cheeks.

“Do you… Do you have a tie?”

Her ears perk up, “Yeah, hold on,” and she retrieves a thin, striped necktie from her dresser. She places it around her neck, her fingers delicately maneuvering the fabric into an intricate-looking knot, and when she's done, she presents herself to you.

“Take off your top, Yubin,” you tell her, and she hands you her phone with the camera already on. Point it at her, making sure the flash is off, and start taking pictures one by one.

She pushes aside the tie and fiddles with the top button. It's effortless how she undoes it, and she pulls the collar apart to show you more of her. She unbuttons the next, then the next, all the while showing you her smooth skin. With half the buttons undone, she shows off her chest, showing nothing but skin underneath her top.

You take a moment to catch your breath, swallow your spit. “Are you sure about this, Yubin?”

“Yeah… Just keep going, please.” She undoes her fifth button at the very bottom, revealing her midriff and making you salivate. Must be heaven to kiss her there, when she snaps you out of it, “Are you still taking pictures?” Am I that distracting?” Look up to her, find her with the same sweet smile on her face but with a new blush decorating her cheeks.

Her last button is her fourth, and it's undone before you know it. She keeps her pajama top on a little bit longer, covering her chest a little bit more, and finally she shrugs it off one shoulder. It's nothing but everything all at once, and the split second your self-control wavers is the exact moment you leap in.

You drop her phone somewhere on the mattress; both your hands grip her shoulders as your lips capture hers. She leans into the kiss, wrapping her fingers on the back of your neck, and tiny moans escape her amidst smooches that get louder the hungrier she gets.

Pull the top off her other shoulder, and she finally strips it all off. However, you can't even enjoy the sight, not yet, as you draft down from her lips to her slender neck, leaving a trail of kisses on your way. She runs her fingers through your hair before holding you in place, all the while leading your free hand to her chest.

She sucks air in through her teeth, “That's really good, just like that…” she moans as her head tilts to allow more access to her neck. The scent of her shampoo fills your nostrils and you feel yourself getting addicted, but not as much as to the softness of her skin.

She pulls you down onto the bed, and you find yourself leaning over her. Yubin lies under you, watching you intently and waiting for what you'll do next. Her tie sits right in the valley of her tits, and it drives you wild. Take a nipple in between your teeth while you fondle her other breast. She breathes heavy in pleasure, wordlessly asking for more and more of your attention and love. Her fist closes on your hair as she pushes you further onto her chest, her other hand hopelessly tugging on your pants.

It's all the message you need from her: your pants go, then your underwear, then everything else. Your cock stands hard in her sights, and the way her fingers wrap around your length is nothing short of heaven.

“Do… do you wanna do it with me?” Her question is purely innocent, without a single hint of malice in her voice. She rubs your shaft slowly, sending waves of tantalizing pleasure throughout your whole body.

“Do you have condoms?”

“... Kaede will forgive me.” She crawls down the ladder, picks out a square plastic wrapper from her roommate's dresser, and hurries to get back to you. The smile on her face as she comes up the ladder again is one of, if not the most beautiful things you've ever seen.

You guide her as she puts the condom on you, and the sensation of her fingers gently unrolling the rubber along your length only makes you more impatient. Finally, you hook your fingers on the garter of her pajama bottoms, and she lifts her hips to accommodate you. The fabric slides off her so easily, revealing her long, smooth legs that she seems desperate to have you in between of.

“Go easy, okay? I told you…”

“Yeah, your first time. I'll take care of you,” you reassure her. Line up your throbbing cock against her slick heat, feel her palm on your cheek, watch her flash that killer smile again. She bites her lip, and while you know it isn't on purpose, it makes her look sexier all the same.

Slide your cock into her, making sure to go slow. She shuts her eyes harder with every inch she takes of you, and when she moves her hands to your forearms and grips tight, it reminds you like a looping cycle: “Go easy, go easy.”

So you go slow and steady, staving off your lust for the woman giving herself to you. Each thrust into her sex is careful and calculated, though by the second you feel your calculations going awry. She pants at every good spot in her cavern you happen to drag across, earning her little admissions of newly found pleasure in the form of mewls and moans like a song you’d never tire of.

“Faster, please…? You’re so–ugh, fuck…” And the way she pleads flips a switch in you; plant your elbows into the memory foam on either side of her head while she takes your face in her hands. Yubin pulls you in for a kiss and it means the world to her when you grow careless with your lovemaking.

“Fuck, fuck, not too fast, just right, mmm,” each time you push into her cunt. The way she mumbles sweet nothings into your ear, the way she holds on for dear life and leaves scratches all the way down your back, she takes up every single thought going through your head: Yubin, Yubin, Yubin…

You scarcely notice how she's scratching your harder, gripping you tighter, grinding against you faster–it’s much too late to finally hear her warning, “I'm close, I'm close, oh fuck, fuck, aaahhhh!�� as she explodes with you still inside her. Her pussy clenches around your cock in all the best ways, and you savor the feeling as she rides out her orgasm. Her knuckles turn white as she grips you by the shoulders, though all you can see is how her tits bounce with every jerk that runs through her body. Yubin's eyes roll to the back of her head and her mouth hangs open, a prolonged, deep moan gracing your ears as she ambles closer and closer to spent.

Take a moment, let her breathe. Every gasp of air in her lungs is like a blessing, and each one steadily brings her from beyond heaven back to you. Her hands fall to her sides as she pants out her delirium and replaces it with tiredness, and once she's stable she flashes you that killer smile again. It pulls on the corners of her mouth, showing the tiniest amount of teeth, though her eyes are nowhere near open. Plant a kiss on her cheek, then her neck, then receive her giggles once you stay and rest right on her pulse.

“You good? Still alive?”

All she can do is nod, having had every last ounce of her strength sapped. She lays motionless under you, save for her chest rising and falling with her breathing, and you know she looks to you for comfort and security. You take another moment to bask in her afterglow; she's never looked more gorgeous.

“Hey,” she whispers, and you swear it's the most tired you've ever heard her, or anyone for that matter. “You good?”

“Yeah, I'm okay. Are you sure you're good?”

“Yeah. Thank you.” She pulls you back down and plants a kiss on your cheek. Her lips linger for a second, as if she's taking in your scent made hers. You stay like this for a good while, just enjoying each other's presence, relishing in the warmth of a body that gave itself up for the other. You don't even notice when you slumped over onto the mattress beside her, but her head on your chest felt like the rightest thing in the world.

“We're not done, by the way,” she prods.

“What? Why not? Aren't you tired?”

“‘Tired’ isn't part of the bet. I still want that tribute.”

And you remember, you have a job to do, a debt to pay. It’s between your common sense and your lust for the hottest girl in the world right now, and there is a clear winner.

Pull back from her, off of the bed, and plant your feet on the floor. Firm and resolute, tell her: “Fine, on your knees.” The flush on her face deepens to an igneous red, and she scrambles to the floor in front of you.

“You're so pretty, Yubin,” you muse as you point her camera back to her face. Make sure the flash is off, and once you push the big red button to record, your other hand immediately takes her cheek and guides her to your tip.

Yubin's eyes flutter shut as she inches her lips closer and closer to your cock. The first contact is heavenly; just gentle kisses and licks from a complete novice pretending to be an expert at this sort of stuff. The way her tongue glides over your shaft, the way she plants kisses all over your cock with the tiniest sucks, the way she does all of this with her eyes gracefully shut makes for a killer video for her to get off to later. A blowjob from a girl like this comes once in a lifetime, so you resolve to give her everything she'd ever want from a tribute like this.

A moan escapes you, and she picks up that she's doing it right. With your subconscious approval, the hand on her cheek pulling further her in, she takes your tip in her mouth. Her tongue works overtime in running all over the head, paying special attention to your slit, making absolutely sure her spit coats wherever she can reach. She takes in more and more of your shaft, pressing her tongue on the underside of your cock as she does, all the while her cheeks hollow out like her life depends on it.

Tiny vibrations from her throat only add to the pleasure, sending shivers up your spine and your hand to the back of her head. For the first time, she opens her eyes, and the sight is something to behold: she looks up at you with the biggest, roundest, most pleading eyes, the epitome of cuteness if not for your cock she oh-so-diligently services to get what she wants.

Yubin takes you in just a bit deeper, slightly turning her head and savoring the way your length fills her mouth, when you hit the back of her throat, causing her to gag. She pulls back abruptly as a tear forms in the corner of her eye, and you have half a mind to pull out entirely to make sure she's okay. Instead, she never lets you–she takes your cock again, shooting you another pleading look before she shuts her eyes and bobs her head onto your cock again and again.

Luckily, you pick up on her message; Snake your fingers through her hair, grab a fistful, make her yours. A moan rises from her throat once again, and she steadies herself with her hands on your thighs in preparation. She's ready.

Pull her in as far as she can take, and it's a good most of your shaft before she gags again. Offer her no breathing room, bob her head onto your cock over and over, all the while more of her slobber coats your length, some of it falling off her lips and onto her chest and lap. She never fights, only takes–soon the gagging is replaced by an obedient, rhythmic gluck-gluck-gluck than you're sure even she'd find hot if she could think straight. Instead, her phone picks up every sight and sound for her to enjoy later, while you both enjoy each other now.

It's everything all at once: the sight of Gong Yubin's plump, sexy lips around your shaft, the feeling of her tongue relentlessly dragging over every inch of your cock, the sound of your tip meeting her throat again and again while her groans fight their way out. “Yubin… I'm close,” you confess, but with her eyes still shut and her tongue still going crazy all over you, you don't think she heard. So make the decision yourself: yank her hard off your cock, rub your shaft right against her delicious lips. Once she exits her daze, she takes your dick in her hand and rubs all across the length. Tears fall from the corner of her eyes and her lips give off the slightest tremble, but she's resolute in what she wants to earn from you.

It takes no time at all until you reach your limit. It's the best handjob anyone has ever probably given, but it's that one last kiss from her, right on your tip, that sends you over the edge. One last groan, one last jerk, one last tug of her hair, and your orgasm hits. Your cum shoots out in ropes, all landing on her face and tits. She's determined to receive everything from you, so it's only right to give her exactly what she wants. She shuts her eyes again, but her mouth stays wide open to catch whatever she can of it–she never stops jerking you off even as your cum falls onto her eyelids, her nose bridge, her forehead, her chin. Yubin savors every moment and every drop, burning the memory of bliss into her mind as you coat her face with your love.

Your orgasm finally dies down, and you realize just how much she squeezed out of you. You're sure no one has ever looked lewder, your cum smeared all over her face, yet she proves you wrong when she picks up a fingerful of it to take into her mouth. She licks her lips, apparently loving the taste, while you love the sight of her acting so sultry for you.

Stumble back onto the bed, take Yubin with you. Both of you are out of strength, breathing heavy, and in the middle of processing that you just painted her face with cum–that she asked you to paint her face with cum. You barely notice the stars swirling in your eyes, but your sense of the situation comes back just quick enough to avoid things getting awkward.

“I think I wanna shower, so you should wash up first,” you mumble, still staring at her beige ceiling, and you can feel she's panting and doing the same without even seeing her.

Wordlessly she gets up and her carpet-muffled footsteps grow quieter as she heads to the bathroom. A door shuts, a handle creaks, a shower gushes to life. Your brain sits idle, making no attempts to form thoughts other than acknowledging the shower turning off and on while she bathes. It's calming in its own way, you suppose–taking a bath is one of the normalest things in the world–as if what you just did with her was a close runner-up.

An unknowable amount of time passes, and a fresh, citrus-scented Yubin emerges from the bathroom again. She dries her hair with her towel as she makes her way to her hair blower, but not before shooting you a gorgeous smile and a head tilt to the bathroom to let you know it's your turn.

~~~

Leaving the bathroom yourself, you find a dark bedroom, save only for a yellow lamp shining against a nearby wall. Yubin is sitting up in her bed and scrolling on her phone, and once she spots you, she beckons you over.

“Look, funny,” she whispers with a giggle, and she shows you a clip of a guy much too excited about a truck looking like Optimus Prime.

“Yeah. Hey, listen, I'm pretty tired,” you attempt. In no way is this a lie, and you're sure she's tired too. You bet she wants nothing more than to finally go to sleep and end what should be a perfect night on a high note.

“Totally,” she agrees, “come on in. It's cold.” She lifts up the covers and looks over to you expectantly. Not that it dumbfounds you, but it throws you for a slight loop; she literally just said it was cold.

“Wh– I'm heading out, is what I mean. You should get your rest, too.”

Yubin's eyes take on a softer expression, “Oh, you're not staying over?”

“... Did you want me to?”

“Yeah…?”

Your eyes lock with hers for what seems like half a second and a million hours at the same time. You're stuck in place, still in a stalemate of a staring contest with her, and you're not sure even she knows what the two of you want out of the situation. Her expression turns into one of concern, and her arm holding up the covers falters just a bit. Fuck, you think, window's closing.

Make your choice, have no regrets. Get in the covers with her, and she lets them drop to snuggle up to you. Once the both of you settle, her head on your chest and yours on one of the fluffiest pillows in the world, she blurts out quietly: “You fucked up, you know.”

She navigates to her gallery and finds your video of her, and skips to a part near the end. “Your dumb ass stopped recording just as you were about to cum.” And the video did show that: Yubin rubbing your cock, eyes shut, tongue out and ready for your load, and the video stops.

“Shit, sorry–”

“This wasn't the bet. I wanted a cum tribute, not a facial. You need to send me a proper one,” she muses, “or take a proper video.”

Now that stuns you. You wonder how interesting her ceiling is for you to stare at it so much, but she snaps you out of it partway through by snaking a hand up your shirt and settling it right above your heart. Reciprocate–it only feels right–wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her even closer. An exhale from both of you, and one last exchange of words:

“Okay. Tomorrow?”

“Can you go again that soon?”

“If it's you, of course.”

“Don't guys need to recharge?”

“... I'll handle it.”

~~~

#girl group smut #kpop smut #triples smut #yubin smut #gong yubin #triples yubin #fic box #ask box

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coqhee · 3 months ago

Text

OVER THE MOON

✷ how enhypen hyung line would propose to you!

day 15 of melodies to memories ― enhypen hyung line︲f reader︲fluff hcs

LEE HEESEUNG

would TOTALLY do it on a special day, eg your birthday, christmas, 1 year after you met

that along with the fact he’d do it somewhere special, like where you first met, where he first fell in love

he def practiced with his friends how he was going to propose and they’d tease him but it’s the sweetest thing ever

you’d laugh at him when he told you later

heeseung would only propose when you’re in your most comfortable clothes since he thinks it’s cuter than going all out

cheesy ass mf is probably singing to you, then proposing cause duh

late-night drive post celebration 10000%

more under the cut!

PARK JONGSEONG

definitely playing something on his guitar like your fav song

its absolutely going to be at a nice restaurant or a nice viewpoint

makes sure you have your nails done and your in the prettiest of pretty dresses for such a special night

makes a sappy speech and starts crying halfway through but composes himself for the photos

jay’s already planning how he’s going to incorporate your engagement at the wedding

probably through taking videos to commemorate the moment

he already knows you’re going to say yes duh

SIM JAEYUN

going ALL OUT i tell you

not one to do it in public, but he’s setting up a cute evening picnic

invites your family and friends to be there for the special moment

you would’ve NEVER seen it coming

the lengths this man went to make sure it was perfect

taking a ziptie at night around your finger to make sure it was the perfect size without you knowing

he feels like a middle school boy all over again awing at your beauty, even more pretty with that engagement ring around your finger

would kiss your finger before sliding the ring on

would brag and call you his future wife wherever you went

PARK SUNGHOON

he tells you to “get dolled up” since you’re going to the gorge to take photos

yeah just photos for your engagement obviously

my man is saying an ESSAY about how perfect you are

would try to keep his composure but end up crying just like jay

you thought it was out of nowhere but NO

this man has had plans to marry you for a whole year and has had the ring stashed away for so long

he’d be nervous fidgeting with the box waiting for the right moment

he’d have to call to get your attention since you were so immersed in the nature you didn’t notice

he’d look up at you with the most sincere look ever smiling ear to ear when you said yes

─── ♡

a/n: happy day 15 of melodies to memories! i have no clue why blr delayed this upload soo im just gonna manually upload it?? all likes, comments and reblogs appreciated <3

melodies to memories tl (open!): @pshwrldd @hhmnya @wonsdoll @lovuegi

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bueckersstuff · 7 days ago

Text

PART I - PART II - PART III

There’s something about being best friends with someone like Paige Bueckers that makes you feel both incredibly lucky and completely exasperated at the same time. You know that sounds contradictory, but if you knew her, you’d get it.

You met when you were eight, and I swear, from the moment you collided on the playground during recess—both of you going for the same ball—you were inseparable.

It wasn’t hard to see that Paige was special. Even back then, she was effortlessly athletic, her natural grace obvious in everything from her jump shots to the way she could race across the court. While other kids had their moments of clumsy falls or awkward movements, Paige glided, even as a little girl.

You weren’t into sports—never were—but you always knew she was going places. You watched her grow from the girl who loved to chase after basketballs into the player who could practically bend the rules of physics to make a perfect shot. She was destined to be a star, and the rest of us? Well, you just had to hang on to her for the ride.

Then there was you—definitely not a basketball star, but no slouch when it came to your studies. You were the type to bury your nose in books while everyone else was at practice. You loved reading, writing, and getting lost in whatever academic challenge you could find. Your classmates always knew you could finish a math test in half the time and nail the history essay before anyone else had even started. You weren’t a superstar in the traditional sense, but you had your own rhythm, and it worked for you.

And yet, despite your different worlds, you and Paige were the best of friends.

You sat next to each other in most of your classes, and your favorite pastimes involved everything from debating which was the best superhero movie, running through the halls of your high school, laughing at something no one else understood. And then there was the teasing—God, the teasing.

Paige was relentless. She’d always tease you for being the "boring academic" while she perfected her crossover dribble, making jokes about how you’d never survive a week of basketball practice. It wasn’t mean-spirited, at least not in the way that some people’s teasing could be. But that didn’t make it any less insufferable.

“Come on, nerd, do you even know what a fast break is?�� she’d say, standing with her hands on her hips after yet another practice, eyes gleaming mischievously.

You’d roll your eyes and half-smile, knowing what was coming next.

“Yes, Paige. It’s when someone speeds up the court before the defense can set up. I’ve read a book or two about basketball.”

Her laugh would always follow. “Well, maybe you should try it sometime. You’ll be a star! You could wear your glasses while you play, and the team could call you ‘The Bookworm!’”

You hated it. You hated that she’d get under your skin, making you feel like you should try to be something you weren’t. But at the same time, you secretly kind of liked it. Who else would tease you like that and still be your biggest fan? I mean, Paige was so full of life, so unapologetically herself, that you couldn’t help but admire her for it, even if it drove you crazy.

It wasn’t all teasing, of course. There were those moments when you’d look at Paige, really look at her, and see the layers that the world didn't always get to see—the quiet moments after games when she was just a regular person with regular fears. Like that time she sat next to you in the locker room after a particularly tough loss, not saying much but letting you know she was okay by the way she leaned her head on your shoulder. You were the one with the words in those moments, and she didn’t need to ask for help. You just understood.

In high school, you were those two girls everyone kind of knew—Paige, the basketball prodigy, and you, the girl who could read, write, and speak five languages (okay, maybe just four, but who’s counting?).

People knew you were best friends because you made it so obvious. You were the one who had her back through the drama, through the spotlight, through all the things that came with being someone like Paige. And she was the one who kept you grounded, who pulled you out of your shell, and who still found a way to make you laugh, even when you were too stressed to breathe.

I remember one particular day, not long before you graduated, when the teasing reached a whole new level. Paige had been making jokes all day about how you were going to be "the world’s most successful librarian" or "the next Shakespeare" (thanks, Paige, I think?). By the time lunch came around, you were done.

“Okay, okay,” you said, throwing your hands up in mock surrender as you sat down across from her at your usual lunch table. “I’ll come to one of your practices. You can teach me how to play basketball. But just know that if I end up scoring more points than you, I’m going to bring it up forever.”

Paige’s eyes lit up. “You want in? Alright, let’s see what you’ve got. This is gonna be so much fun.”

It was that day that you realized just how much you loved your friendship. Because while Paige could drive you to the edge of insanity with her teasing, her laughter, her crazy competitiveness—it was all out of love. It always had been. And no matter how much she teased you, she was the first person to defend you when you needed it. No matter how many basketball practices you would never get through without tripping over your own feet, no matter how many times she’d laugh at your inability to dribble, you wouldn’t trade her for the world.

Paige Bueckers, insufferable tease and one of the best friends you could ever ask for.

Things started to change in 2019. It wasn’t immediate, and it wasn’t a loud, dramatic shift, but slowly, like the tide creeping in, everything began to feel different. That was the year Paige was recruited for Team USA’s Women’s U16 National Team. You knew it was coming—her talent was undeniable, and she was just too good to ignore. But still, when the phone call came, when she told you she’d made the team, you felt this rush of pride mixed with something else you couldn’t quite place.

She was going places. Big places. You were still that girl with your nose buried in textbooks, with your quiet, academic achievements to your name. But Paige? Paige was going to represent her country. It was what she’d always dreamed of. You were thrilled for her, of course, but with that thrill came something else—something that felt like the quiet loss of the friend you’d grown up with.

That’s when Azzi Fudd came into the picture.

Azzi, a prodigy in her own right, had already started making waves in the basketball world by then. She was fierce, driven, and she and Paige immediately hit it off. They were two peas in a pod—both basketball geniuses, both with an unshakable bond of ambition and determination. You watched from the sidelines as the two of them grew closer over the months. They practiced together, trained together, and even joked together in ways that made you feel like an outsider. Azzi became Paige’s new constant, the person she could lean on during the long hours of practice and travel, the one who shared her dreams of championships and accolades.

And you—you were left behind.

At first, it was subtle. Paige’s messages became fewer and farther between. She was busy, you knew that. She had games, practices, and a whole new world that was opening up to her. But it was the little things that started to hurt.

You’d text her about something random—just like you used to—and you’d get a short, distracted reply. “Busy, sorry, will talk later.” But “later” never came. The “Paige” you used to know was slipping further and further away.

As the months went on, Paige’s attention drifted more toward Azzi. You saw the way they interacted—something beyond friendship, something deeper. Their connection was electric, magnetic. Every time they were together, it was like the world around them disappeared, like they had their own universe in the middle of all the chaos. You tried not to notice it, tried to tell yourself that it was just their bond over basketball, over being in the same world of greatness. But deep down, you knew. You knew that something was happening between them. Something that you couldn’t be a part of.

You didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to acknowledge that your best friend was slipping away from you. But the truth was clear: Paige wasn’t just getting busier with her career; she was getting closer to Azzi. And with that, she was pulling away from you.

You still supported her, of course. You cheered her on from the sidelines, watching every game, every tournament she played in. You sent her messages—hoping that maybe she’d see them, maybe you could have one of your old conversations—but they were always answered with a brief acknowledgment, nothing more. You didn’t push. You didn’t want to be that friend—the one who made everything about them when it wasn’t supposed to be.

It hurt, though. It hurt more than you were willing to admit.

It was hard to watch Paige and Azzi share everything—laughing at inside jokes you weren’t part of, training together in ways you could never understand, building a future that didn’t have a place for you. And you got it. You did. You weren’t in the same world. They were two rising stars, both with the world at their feet, and you were just… there. You weren’t part of their journey anymore.

But the hardest part? The hardest part was that Paige didn’t even realize what was happening. She didn’t see how much it hurt you to watch her and Azzi grow closer, to feel the distance widening between you. She was so wrapped up in her new life that you barely existed in it. And you didn’t know how to tell her—how to make her understand that you were still her friend, that you were still proud of her, but you also needed her to see you.

You couldn’t tell her you were lonely. You couldn’t tell her that the bond you once had felt like a memory, like something you couldn’t reach anymore. Instead, you took the quiet route. You pulled back. You didn’t call her as often. You didn’t text her every time something reminded you of her. You figured if she had time for you, she’d reach out. But you knew that wouldn’t happen—not in the way it used to.

It was the end of the year when you finally realized something. Paige and Azzi had something going on—something that wasn’t just about basketball. Maybe it was the way they exchanged knowing glances at practices, or the way Paige’s face lit up every time Azzi spoke. Maybe it was the late-night conversations you’d overhear when Paige thought you weren’t listening. You didn’t want to interfere. You didn’t want to make Paige feel like she was betraying you, because you weren’t mad at her—you were just… heartbroken.

You still supported her. You always would. But something had changed. Something was missing. And no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t go back to the way things were.

Paige, your best friend, was slipping away. And Azzi Fudd, who had become her everything, was standing in the space you used to occupy.

You didn’t blame her, not really. People grow, they change. Sometimes they outgrow each other, and sometimes they find new connections that mean more than the old ones. But it didn’t make it any easier.

So you stayed silent. You watched from the sidelines. You cheered, you smiled, and you let go.

But you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, Paige didn’t need you anymore.

The summer before college was supposed to be a time of celebration, excitement, and the thrill of what lay ahead. You and Paige had spent years imagining this moment. Since you were little, you both had talked about where you'd go to school, what your futures would look like, and the dreams you’d chase together. You had always planned that you'd be there for each other no matter what. You’d go off to college together, as inseparable as ever.

And then came UConn.

Paige had just received a huge call—Geno Auriemma had recruited her to play for the University of Connecticut. Of course, you had known it was coming. Paige had been a star for years, and now, the biggest program in women’s college basketball wanted her.

"Guess what?" she texted you one evening, her excitement practically jumping off the screen. "Geno wants me at UConn. It's official."

You were thrilled for her. This was the dream she had talked about since you were kids, and now it was happening. UConn was where she was meant to be. But when she mentioned something else, something that wasn’t part of the plan, something that made your heart twist—well, that’s when everything started to change.

She told you, "I really want Azzi to come to UConn too. I think it would be perfect for us to play together."

That hit you in a way you didn’t expect. Azzi Fudd—the same Azzi who had gradually become everything to Paige. The girl who had quietly inserted herself into your friendship and your life, until now, she was practically the center of Paige’s world.

You tried not to let it show. You tried not to let it sting, but it did. You had been there with Paige through everything—through the awkward middle school days, the high school highs and lows, and now, you were being pushed aside for someone who had only entered the picture recently. Azzi was going to UConn, and you could already see how the next few years were going to play out: Paige and Azzi, side by side, dominating the court together. Meanwhile, you’d be sitting on the sidelines, watching it all unfold, your own dreams feeling smaller and more distant.

You had already planned on studying business. It was a solid, practical path that made sense for you. But in that moment, you felt the weight of the change, the realization that everything was moving forward—and you weren’t moving forward with Paige the way you thought you would.

So you did something you hadn’t planned on doing. You sent Paige a message that made your stomach churn.

"Hey, I’m actually considering Harvard for business. It’s really good for the program I want, and I’ve been thinking a lot about it. What do you think?"

It was a low blow, you knew that. You weren’t trying to throw it in her face. But in that moment, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this would be the only way to keep your own sense of identity. Maybe it would be easier to start fresh somewhere else—somewhere where you wouldn’t be constantly reminded of how Paige and Azzi’s bond was growing stronger every day.

Paige’s response was subtle, more so than you had expected, but you saw the shift.

"Wow," she replied, her message short. "Harvard’s amazing. I’m sure you’ll be great there. But, um... I guess I thought we’d go to college together, you know?"

There it was. The hurt. You knew she didn’t take it well. The dream you two had shared was now splintering into two separate paths. But despite everything, Paige still gave her approval. It was like she was trying to convince herself that it was okay. That you could both be on your own journeys, even if they weren’t the same.

The months leading up to college were a blur. You both packed up and moved to your respective schools, the excitement of starting fresh hanging in the air. You met new people, made new friends—people who understood you in a way that only other business-minded students could. You threw yourself into your studies, the weight of your decision sinking in, but you knew it was the right one. You had made your choice. You were going to make the most of it, even if it meant growing apart from Paige.

College started, and the messages between you and Paige grew more and more infrequent. She was busy with her basketball commitments, of course. She had her teammates, her coaches, and the demands of being a star athlete. You, on the other hand, had your classes, your friends, and a life that was slowly but surely diverging from hers.

You had heard about Paige’s teammates, names you had only known from the sidelines: Aaliyah Edwards, Nika Mühl, Caroline Ducharme, and Aubrey Griffin. They were all part of the powerhouse UConn team, each one playing a role in creating a dynasty. You’d watch their games on TV from time to time, seeing Paige’s highlights flash across the screen, her name growing bigger with each win. You cheered her on silently, even if it felt like you were cheering from a distance.

You had your own life now, and Paige had hers. She seemed happy—genuinely happy, surrounded by her team, her friends, and Azzi, who had made her way to UConn a year later, just like Paige had hoped. But it didn’t escape your notice how much their bond had only deepened. Azzi was there in every picture, in every moment, their chemistry undeniable. You were just another name in the background now.

You tried not to let it hurt. You really did. But it was hard not to notice how Paige’s world was building around her, and how you were fading into the background.

It was no secret to you how hard Paige had worked to recruit Azzi to UConn. She had pulled every string, every connection she could find, making sure Azzi was right where she wanted her. You saw their bond growing stronger, seen more clearly than before. It wasn’t just about basketball anymore—it was about their shared future. Paige had gotten exactly what she wanted, and Azzi was finally there, playing alongside her on the same team.

You didn’t blame Paige. You understood. She had always been someone who knew what she wanted, someone who would do anything to get it. You couldn’t be mad at her for building the life she had always dreamed of. But you couldn’t deny the bittersweet feeling that had settled inside you, watching from the outside.

Your friendship with Paige wasn’t what it used to be. You didn’t have the closeness anymore, the bond that once tied you together. You were happy for her—really, you were—but in that quiet, unspoken way, you knew things would never be the same again.

And maybe that was just part of growing up.

It wasn’t like it used to be. You and Paige—best friends since childhood—had always been so close, but now, everything felt... distant. The conversations were minimal, just a few texts here and there, just enough to keep in touch but not enough to feel like you were a part of each other’s lives anymore.

"How’s school?" she’d text occasionally, and you’d reply with a short update about your business classes. "Busy, but it’s going well," you’d tell her. Paige would then tell you about UConn, about the team, about her and Azzi. She’d send little snippets, but her words were always focused on basketball, her life with the team. They were thriving together, and you were happy for her.

She’d told you, in one of her rare texts, that her and Azzi were officially together. "Yeah, Azzi and I are in a relationship now. It’s crazy, huh? But I think we’re good."

You read the message, paused, and then sent a quick reply. “That’s awesome. I’m happy for you.”

It didn’t sting. You’d accepted things for what they were. Paige was living her dream with Azzi by her side, and you were carving your own path at college. You’d let go of the dream you once shared with her, knowing that life had different plans. You weren’t bitter. You weren’t angry. You just accepted it.

But then, everything shifted.

It was December 2021, and you were adjusting to the fast pace of college life. Your mind was focused on your studies, your friendships, and your own growth. But one night, you received a message that stopped everything in its tracks. It was from Paige.

"Can’t play... Something’s wrong with my knee. I can’t walk. I’m at the hospital."

Your heart dropped. You could feel the weight of her words, the pain behind them. Your first instinct was to drop everything and go to her, to be by her side like you always had been. But reality set in. You had assignments, deadlines, and the pressure of school. You couldn’t just leave, and you hated yourself for it.

You sent her a message. "I’m so sorry. I wish I could be there. Let me know what the doctors say."

She didn’t reply immediately, and when she did, it was just a simple message: "ACL tear. I’m done for the season."

You felt helpless. Paige was heartbroken. You could feel the pain through the screen, and it hurt you too, but there was nothing you could do. All you could offer were the words, the kind of support you knew she’d appreciate. The text messages between you became more infrequent, and soon enough, they stopped altogether.

You kept checking in, but the replies from Paige became shorter and more distant. She was focused on recovery, and her life was still revolving around basketball. You, on the other hand, were learning how to survive in a new world without her there. You didn’t want to push her, but it hurt—being left behind, being so far from her when she needed you the most.

Then, in early 2023, came Azzi Fudd’s injury. You saw the headlines, the news reports, and you knew how it would affect Paige. Azzi had suffered an MCL sprain during a game, and she would be out for several weeks.

In the aftermath, Paige started texting you more, reaching out when she needed someone to talk to.

"You don’t understand," she sent one night, the words filled with raw emotion. "With everything going on between Azzi and me... It’s falling apart. We’re not okay. I feel like everything I’ve worked for is crumbling."

You didn’t know what to say. You had never seen Paige like this, so vulnerable, so unsure. You didn’t want to make her feel worse, but you were there for her, trying to offer whatever comfort you could.

She texted again a few days later. "I don’t know what to do. I miss you. I miss how things used to be."

It felt like a tiny crack in the walls she had built around herself, a sign that maybe, just maybe, she missed you too.

Then, one evening, you received an unexpected notification. It was from Paige—a video call.

You hesitated, then answered. You could see her face, pale and tired, her eyes red from what you could only assume were endless tears.

"I need to talk to you," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "Azzi and I... we’re done. It’s over."

But before she could say anything else, your female friend, Emma, had been hanging out with you. She saw the video call and, in a playful but mischievous mood, show herself on the video. Without thinking, Emma greeted Paige, her voice indifferent and teasing.

"Hey Paige, heard a lot about you." Emma said with a smirk, "What’s up? Just here with my girl."

You could see Paige’s expression drop, a frown forming as she processed the words. But Emma was only joking, trying to lighten the mood, unaware of what was going on. Paige, on the other hand, didn’t find it funny. She didn’t understand.

"You’re with... your girl?" Paige’s voice was cold, her face tight with emotion. "I... I thought... I thought you weren’t …?"

Emma quickly handed you the phone, laughing it off, but you could see the damage already done. Paige’s eyes were filled with hurt, her thoughts racing. She didn’t know Emma, didn’t understand the joke.

That night, Paige left you a message. It was different from the others. It wasn’t just a simple text. It was more—more raw, more filled with emotion.

"You know what? Forget it. I guess I was wrong about everything. I thought we’d still be there for each other, but I guess you’ve moved on. It’s funny how people can just leave you behind when they find someone else. You were my best friend, and now you’re just... gone. Just like everyone else. Thanks for nothing."

You read the message over and over again, your heart sinking with each word. You knew it wasn’t the truth, that Paige had misunderstood everything. But it didn’t matter. The damage was done.

She was bitter now. She had pushed you away in her own way, and you didn’t know how to fix it. You hadn’t meant to hurt her, but somehow, you had.

And so, you were left with nothing but the silence between you, the space that had grown between you and your best friend, the girl who once meant everything to you.

The silence between you and Paige grew deeper with each passing day. The messages, the once-constant check-ins, had completely stopped. You tried, you really did. You sent her texts, not too frequent, but just enough to let her know you were still there. “Hey, how are you? Hope you’re doing okay. Thinking of you,” you’d write, or “If you need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

But there was nothing in return. No reply. No sign of life from her side.

At first, you told yourself she was busy. UConn’s basketball schedule was grueling, and after Azzi’s injury and their breakup, you thought she might just be going through a lot. Maybe she needed space, you rationalized. You didn’t want to push her, but the more you tried to reach out, the more her absence stung. Each unread message was like a slap in the face, a reminder of how quickly things had changed.

It hurt because you’d accepted the changes. When Paige and Azzi grew closer, you had never once resented it. You didn’t like being pushed aside, sure, but you supported them. You’d watched their bond grow stronger, seen how it gave Paige the happiness she had longed for. You didn’t complain. You didn’t walk away. You stood by her, from the very beginning. You never left her side, not even when it felt like you were the third wheel, not even when it seemed like you were losing the girl who had once been your everything.

But now, just one joke—one misunderstanding—and she’d dropped you like you were nothing.

The weight of that hit you harder than anything before. It wasn’t even the joke itself that hurt, but the fact that Paige had been so quick to assume the worst. After everything you’d been through together, after all the years of friendship, she thought that little interaction—that brief moment—was enough to erase you from her life.

Why did you let this happen? Your mind spiraled. You hadn’t meant to hurt her. You hadn’t meant for it to go this far. And yet, here you were, wondering why someone you loved so much could just walk away, leaving you in the dust.

You sat in your dorm room one evening, staring blankly at your phone, scrolling through social media, when the news hit you like a freight train. Paige had suffered another injury—another knee injury. Your heart sank as you read the headline: “Paige Bueckers Out for the Season With Torn ACL—Again.”

The room felt like it was spinning. This couldn’t be real. She couldn’t have gone through all that recovery only to face another setback. You immediately tried to text her, but nothing. No reply. It was as if she had disappeared from your life completely.

The guilt consumed you. You knew she was hurting—physically, emotionally, after everything she had been through with Azzi and now this. But you were angry too, angry at how quickly she had shut you out. Angry at the misunderstanding that had created this silence. You hadn’t meant to hurt her, and yet here you were, unable to do anything for the one person who had once been everything to you.

You wanted to fix it. You needed to fix it. You couldn’t just sit by and do nothing.

And that’s when it hit you—a desperate idea, a leap of faith.

You would transfer. You couldn’t stay where you were anymore, not knowing that Paige was hurting and you weren’t there. You couldn’t live with the guilt, the uncertainty, the not-knowing. You needed to be where she was, to be close to her, to try and repair the wreckage that had been your friendship. Maybe this was crazy, maybe it was impulsive, but you didn’t care. You just needed to do something.

You called your parents, explaining the situation in the most frantic way you could. “I’m thinking about transferring to UConn,” you said, your voice shaking. “I can’t stand this anymore. I need to be there for her. I need to make things right.”

They were shocked, of course. They didn’t fully understand. But you didn’t care. You were too far gone in the rush of your emotions, in the desperate need to fix the broken pieces of your friendship with Paige.

The days that followed were a blur. You filled out the transfer papers, contacted the UConn admissions office, and started the whirlwind of transferring to a new school. But it wasn’t just about school—it was about Paige. It was about doing whatever it took to be there for her, to prove that you hadn’t abandoned her, that you would never abandon her, not after everything you’d been through.

And still, there was silence. No word from Paige. No sign that she even cared that you were trying. Each day felt like a punch in the gut, but you kept pushing forward. You kept going, thinking that once you were there, once you were close enough, everything would fall into place.

When you arrived at UConn, everything felt surreal. It was overwhelming, being in a new place, surrounded by new faces, but all you could think about was Paige. Would she even want to see you? Would she care that you had gone to all this trouble just to be by her side? Or would she still see you as the person who had made one mistake, one joke, and ruined everything?

You’d seen the news about Paige's injury. You knew where she was likely to be. The clinic, you remembered. You'd seen enough photos and posts about it to know that’s where they’d be working with her.

You walked to the clinic, your steps quick but uncertain. When you reached the entrance, a security personnel stopped you.

“What’s your name?” he asked, eyeing you suspiciously.

“I’m—” You hesitated for a moment, not sure what to say. But you had to get through. You had to make sure she saw you. “I’m here to see Paige Bueckers.”

The guard’s expression shifted. He looked down at the list in front of him. You told him your name.

“Paige’s friend?”

You nodded. “Yes, I need to talk to her.”

He looked at you for a long moment, then picked up his radio. He spoke briefly into it before turning back to you, his eyes wide. “She knows you're here. You can go in.”

You felt a rush of hope, but as you walked through the door, you could sense the cold air surrounding you. The clinic was quiet, save for the soft hum of machines and the faint sounds of footsteps. When you finally reached the are, you saw Paige sitting on one of the therapy tables, her leg elevated, working with one of the physical therapists.

She didn’t look up immediately, but as you stepped closer, you could feel her eyes on you. There was a long silence before she finally met your gaze.

Her eyes were hard. Hostile. You could see the anger simmering just beneath the surface.

“What are you doing here?” Paige’s voice was sharp, cutting through the tension like a knife. “Did you come to gawk at me while I’m stuck here, injured again? Is that it?”

You swallowed hard, standing your ground despite the hurt twisting in your chest. “No, I didn’t come here for that, Paige,” you said, your voice steady but with a flicker of emotion behind it. “I came because I’m worried about you. I’m here because you’re my friend, and I... I didn’t want to just sit back and do nothing.”

Paige’s jaw clenched, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Worried about me?” She repeated, her voice dripping with bitterness. “Where were you when I needed someone? You just disappeared, and now you think you can waltz in and act like nothing happened?”

The words stung, but you refused to back down. “I’m sorry for what happened between us,” you said, taking a step forward. “I never meant to hurt you. You cut me off, and I respected that, but I’m here now. I’m not leaving, Paige. I’m still your friend.”

She glared at you for a long moment, her gaze piercing, as if she was trying to decide if you were worth the effort of keeping around. “You should’ve stayed gone,” she spat. “I don’t need you here. I don’t need you to ‘fix’ anything. I’m doing just fine on my own.”

Her words hit like a slap, but you stood your ground, refusing to let her push you away. “I don’t care if you think you don’t need me,” you said, voice calm but firm. “I’m not going anywhere. I came here because I care about you. You might not want me here, but I’m staying.”

Paige’s eyes softened for a split second, but then the hardness returned. She turned away from you, her focus back on her rehab. “I told you,” she muttered, her voice distant, “I don’t need you.”

You felt your heart break all over again, but you weren’t going to back down. Not now. Not when you were so close.

“I’m not leaving, Paige,” you said, your voice unwavering. “I’ll be here whenever you’re ready to talk. But I’m not going anywhere.”

You could tell she was trying to ignore you, trying to shut you out. But deep down, you knew you had made the right decision. It didn’t matter how angry or hurt she was. It didn’t matter how much she tried to push you away. You were here for her. You always had been, and you always would be.

And no matter how hostile she acted, no matter how much she hated you in that moment, you were ready to take it. You were ready to fix what had been broken—even if it took everything you had.

You left Paige to continue with her rehab, but before walking away, you turned to her, feeling the weight of everything you were about to say. “I need to sort out my transfer,” you said, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you. “I’ll be settled in soon, so… I’ll be around.”

Paige looked up at you, her face betraying nothing but a mask of indifference, a carefully constructed wall. For a split second, you saw something flicker in her eyes—something soft, maybe even surprised—but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. She didn’t respond. She just nodded, her eyes still hard as she shifted her attention back to her physical therapy.

You left her there, the tension between you two still thick in the air.

Once settled into your new dorm room, you couldn’t help but think about Paige. You had to admit it—no matter how things had changed, you were still concerned about her. You texted her first. “Hey, just checking in. Have you eaten today?”

No reply.

You waited, staring at your phone, and then made up your mind. If she wasn’t going to answer, you’d bring her some food yourself. She hadn’t looked like she was eating much lately, and you couldn’t bear to think of her not taking care of herself. You knew her favorite meal, and that was what you decided to bring. The thought of her, still struggling with her injury, made you feel helpless, but this was something you could do.

You asked your new roommate, Kim, if she knew where Paige’s dorm was. She raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “You’re going to her dorm? Why?” she asked, half skeptical, half curious.

“We’re childhood friends. I just... I need to make sure she’s okay,” you said quickly, avoiding her gaze.

Kim shrugged. But then gave you directions nonetheless.

The walk to Paige’s dorm felt like it took hours, though it was just a few blocks away. When you finally stood in front of her door, your heart raced. You knocked softly, hoping she wasn’t out. The girl, Nika answered the door, her expression confused as she looked you up and down.

“Who are you?” she asked, eyeing you warily.

You swallowed, trying to stay calm. “I’m… I’m a friend of Paige’s. I’m just here to bring her some food.”

Her eyes widened slightly, like the recognition clicked. “Oh, you’re the one she’s been talking about. I didn’t expect to see you so soon. Hold on.” She stepped aside, and you could tell she was still unsure, but once you said your name, there was something in her eyes—a knowing look, like she understood more than you were letting on.

She called for Paige but received no answer. “She’s probably in her room, trying to sleep off the pain,” Nika said with a shrug, gesturing for you to follow her.

You hesitated at first, unsure whether you should push any further, but Nika gave you a quick nod. “Go on, she won’t bite.”

With a tight breath, you stepped past Nika and into the dorm, the familiar, comforting scent of Paige’s room hitting you the moment you crossed the threshold. It was a mix of lavender and the faint smell of her favorite candles, something that always felt like home. You stood there for a second, trying to get your bearings, until you finally walked to Paige’s room.

There, lying in bed, was Paige.

She looked almost angelic, her features softened by the pillow beneath her head, eyes closed. But something about her posture—the way her body was tense, even in sleep—told you she wasn’t at peace. You stared at her, lost in the emotions you’d buried for so long. She was still the girl you cared about, the girl who had been your world for so many years. You missed her. You missed the real Paige, the one you used to talk to about everything, the one who was always there, no matter what.

As you stood at the edge of her bed, staring at her, the need to reach out to her—just to touch her hair, to feel her close—overwhelmed you. You could still remember how soft her hair used to be, how it would fall around her face when she was tired, and you wanted nothing more than to be that person again—the one who was there when she needed it.

But before you could touch the strands of hair resting on her forehead, her hand shot up and grabbed yours with a force that startled you.

Paige’s eyes snapped open, and you were met with a glare that felt like it could burn through you. Her eyes were dark with something you couldn’t quite read—anger, frustration, confusion.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Her voice was hoarse, but there was a sharpness to it, a biting edge that sent a cold shiver down your spine. “Why did you come? After everything... after you left, why now?”

You froze, the question hanging heavy between you. You wanted to explain, to tell her how much you missed her, how much you needed her in your life, but the words stuck in your throat.

“I just… I wanted to make sure you were okay,” you said quietly, trying to meet her gaze, to show her that you weren’t here for any other reason than to be there for her. “I brought you some food. I thought maybe you hadn’t eaten. I’m sorry for everything.”

Her hand released yours with a shake of her head. “No. You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to come in here after all that time and act like everything is fine.”

She pushed herself up from the bed, her movements stiff, as if every part of her body was in pain. She was still healing, and you could see it in the way she moved—like every step she took was a reminder of her brokenness. “You should go back to Harvard. Go be with your girl, continue living your perfect life without me.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. The jealousy, the bitterness, it all came rushing at you. You could see the confusion in her eyes, the way she was trying to push you away, but the flicker of longing creeps at you. She was angry. So angry at you for leaving, and yet... there was something else there. Something raw, something painful.

“I didn’t forget about you, Paige,” you said, your voice breaking. “I came here because I’m not going to give up on us. You don’t get to shut me out like this. I’m here for you. I always have been. Even when you were with Azzi, I stayed. I never left, Paige.”

Paige’s face contorted in frustration. “I don’t need you, okay?” Her voice cracked, her anger turning to something more, something deeper. “I don’t need anyone right now. I’ve lost too much. I’ve been through too much... I just can’t do this with you.”

The vulnerability in her voice shook you to your core, but you refused to back down. “I don’t care how much time has passed, Paige. I’m still here. I’m not leaving. I came back for you. You’re not alone in this.”

She swallowed hard, tears welling in her eyes, but she turned away, the pain too much to bear. “Just go, okay? Please. Just go.”

It felt like everything was unraveling in that moment—the words, the emotions, the broken pieces of what had once been the strongest bond you’d ever known. You stood there, helpless, knowing that no matter how much you tried, she wasn’t ready. Not yet.

And so, with one last, heart-wrenching glance, you left her room. You walked away, not knowing if you’d ever get the chance to fix what had been broken.

Settling in at UConn was a strange experience. The campus was both new and familiar at the same time. You had transferred in hopes of finding something to hold onto, a chance to fix the mess that had become your friendship with Paige. But so far, nothing felt right.

You were trying to adjust, surrounded by a new group of friends—some from your classes, some from the dorms. They were nice enough, the kind of people you could see yourself getting along with, and for the first time in a while, you started to feel a little more like yourself. It was a relief to have people who weren’t part of your old world with Paige, people who didn’t know the tangled history between you two.

Still, no matter how hard you tried, your thoughts always wandered back to her. You couldn’t help it. Every time you checked your phone, you half-hoped that maybe, just maybe, you’d get a text from Paige. But there was nothing.

A few casual run-ins with her teammates made your chest tighten. You could see the knowing glances they shot you when you passed by. They were all aware of what had happened, all aware of how things had fallen apart between you and Paige. But none of them said a word. It wasn’t like they didn’t care; it was just that they didn’t know what to say. They respected Paige, and they knew how fragile things were.

Then, one afternoon, as you were walking to the gym to get some work done, you saw her.

Paige.

She was in the gym, but not in the way you expected. She was standing in the corner, dribbling the ball, her injured leg barely touching the floor. She wasn’t pushing herself like she used to, wasn’t running, wasn’t playing. She was just standing there, looking lost. You could tell she was angry—probably at herself, maybe at the world—but it was deeper than that. There was a sadness that clung to her, a rawness that you hadn’t seen before.

She wasn’t using her injured leg at all, just holding the ball with a frown that seemed permanent now. The Paige you knew, the one who’d been so driven, was fading in front of your eyes.

You hesitated, watching her for a moment. The distance between you seemed impossibly wide, but still, something inside you made you move forward. You couldn’t just walk away, not now.

“Paige?” you called softly, but she didn’t turn around at first.

When she did, her face was full of that hostility again, but this time, it was laced with something darker. “What do you want?” she snapped, her voice colder than usual.

You felt a lump form in your throat, but you pushed it down. You had to talk to her, even if she was pushing you away.

“I just… I saw you in here and wanted to check on you. Are you okay?” The words felt hollow coming out, but you meant them. You really did.

Paige glared at you like you were some sort of nuisance. “I’m fine,” she said flatly. “I’m just… working through things.”

“You’re standing there, not even using your leg. That’s not ‘working through things.’” You took a step closer, your voice growing softer. “Paige, you’ve got to heal. You can’t just push it all aside.”

“I said I’m fine,” she repeated, more sharply this time. “I don’t need you here telling me how to do things. You don’t get to come in and act like you care. Not after everything.”

The words cut through you like a knife. She was so angry, so defensive, but you couldn’t leave it like this. Not when you knew deep down there was more to her anger than just the injury.

“What is your problem with me, Paige?” The words were out before you could stop them, and they hung in the air like a challenge, like a question you were terrified to ask.

Paige’s eyes narrowed, her mouth tightening into a thin line. “My problem? My problem is that you went to Harvard. You didn’t keep your promise, and you left me to face a new world all alone! And to top it all, you got yourself a girl without even telling me? I always thought you don’t swing that way, or maybe I just don’t know you at all.” Her voice cracked as she said the words, and you saw the flicker of pain that passed through her eyes, but it was gone in a second.

You stared at her, your chest tightening. “What do you mean, ‘I got myself a girl?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Emma,” she said, as if the name itself was a poison. “You found Emma, didn’t you? And you left me behind. You found someone better and didn’t even look back. I couldn’t… I couldn’t deal with that. I thought we were always supposed to be there for each other, but you just… you just moved on. You left me alone.”

You felt the anger rise in you, bubbling up from a place you hadn’t even known existed. The words you’d kept buried for so long rushed out of you like a flood, and suddenly, it felt like everything had been building up to this moment.

“Do you really think it was that simple, Paige?” you snapped, your voice trembling with emotion. “You had Azzi, okay? You had her, and I was the one who stood there, quietly in the background, waiting for you to see me again. I didn’t leave you behind! I was there, supporting you, even when you chose her over me! I let you go, even when it hurt more than anything. But now, now you’re telling me I betrayed you?”

Paige’s face faltered for a moment, her eyes wide with shock. Maybe she had no idea that’s how you felt, that the whole situation had been just as painful for you. She was always so focused on herself, on her world, that she didn’t even see what she had done to you.

But when she spoke again, her voice was shaky, defensive. “I didn’t ask you to do all that for me,” she said, her pride still holding firm. “I didn’t ask you to stand on the sidelines for me. I didn’t even know… I didn’t even know how you felt, and now you’re blaming me for everything. You think you’re the only one who’s hurt?”

You stood there, the anger and hurt so much you couldn’t even breathe properly. “I’m not blaming you, Paige. I’m just telling you how it is. I never left you, but you let me leave. And now, when I’m here, trying to fix things, you just keep pushing me away.”

Her jaw clenched, and she took a deep breath, her eyes narrowing again. “I’m not doing this with you. I’m not going to let you make me feel guilty for being angry. It’s easier for you to act like the victim, but you’re not.”

You wanted to say more, to break through that wall she’d built around herself. But you could see it now—the pride, the stubbornness in her eyes. Paige was never going to admit that she had been unreasonable. She wasn’t going to let her ego crack, no matter how much you tried to make her see the truth.

You took a step back, your heart heavy with all the unspoken words and unresolved pain. “Fine. If you don’t want to fix this, then I guess there’s nothing left to say.”

You turned, walking away before you could say anything more. You needed to clear your mind, needed to be away from her and the storm of emotions that had just come rushing back.

As you walked out of the gym, the weight of everything—the hurt, the betrayal, the love you’d lost—pressed down on you. And for the first time in a long while, you felt like you didn’t know where to go anymore.

Time passed since that confrontation in the gym, and you had kept your distance from Paige. You focused on your studies, on your courses, on everything that wasn’t Paige Bueckers. It wasn’t easy, but it was the only thing you could do to stop your mind from spiraling every time you thought about her.

UConn became a new chapter for you. You threw yourself into your work, the business courses you were taking, determined to make the most out of your transfer. Your new friends became a source of comfort, and the casual distractions of life kept you from thinking too much about the distance between you and Paige.

Still, it was hard. You’d see her, or at least hear about her, all around campus. She’d be walking with her teammates, laughing, looking like the person she was before. The athlete. The star. You could never avoid seeing her, no matter how hard you tried. But you made a choice to stay out of it. After everything that had happened, you couldn’t keep making excuses for her. You couldn’t keep pretending like things were still the same.

Paige went on with her life, though. Her teammates were by her side, supporting her as she rehabbed and worked on getting back to where she was before the injuries. You’d hear bits and pieces of what she was up to—how hard she was working, how she was getting back to form, how she was laughing with her teammates again. It stung a little, but you buried it under your growing stack of homework and exams.

Every so often, you’d be in the same place as Paige. A quick glance from across the campus, maybe in the cafeteria, maybe at the student center. It was always the same. She’d notice you first, trying to keep her distance, but her eyes would linger for just a second longer than they should have. You’d catch her looking, but she’d quickly turn away, pretending she hadn’t been staring.

The silence between you was deafening. There was no hostility anymore. No cold glares. Just… distance. It was like you were two strangers, living parallel lives at UConn. So close, yet so far apart. And it hurt more than it did when you were at Harvard, the feeling of her being nearby but unreachable.

You stopped texting her. It was a choice you made, and for the most part, you convinced yourself it was the right one. The questions that lingered between you—Why didn’t she reach out? Did she really mean it when she told you to leave her alone?—stayed unanswered. The silence spoke volumes, and you listened to it carefully.

As the school year drew to a close, a whisper came through your ear that Paige had finally been cleared to play again. You heard the news like everyone else, and while part of you felt genuinely happy for her, there was also a part of you that couldn’t bring yourself to reach out. Pride, maybe. Or maybe it was just too late. The wedge between you had only gotten wider, and you didn’t want to be the one to try and fix it now.

But one night, out of nowhere, a ticket showed up in your mailbox. No note, just the ticket.

You stared at it, confused. It was for the next home game, the one you hadn’t planned on going to. And it was from her. You knew it was from Paige. No one else would have known to send it to you. You told yourself you didn’t need to go. You didn’t owe her anything anymore. So you ignored it.

But it happened again. The next game, another ticket.

And again for the one after that.

Each time, it was like a silent plea. Paige was reaching out, but she wasn’t saying anything. No words. Just a ticket. Just an invitation. And yet, you stayed away. You were torn between not wanting to play into her games and still wanting to be there for her. You couldn’t deny that the part of you that still cared about her wanted to go, to support her. But the other part—the part that had been hurt—kept you from taking the step.

Then, during the fourth game, it happened again. Only this time, it wasn’t a ticket that appeared on your doorstep. It was Nika.

“Hey, I’ve got an extra ticket to the game tonight. You should come,” Nika said, with a knowing look in her eyes. You could tell there was something behind it. She wasn’t just being friendly. It was like she was trying to get you to come, to be there.

You frowned slightly. “Why do you want me to go? I’m not really in the mood to watch a game right now.”

Nika shrugged, but there was a subtle, almost sly look in her eyes. “Come on. It’ll be fun. Paige will be happy to see you there. Trust me.”

That sent a chill down your spine. You didn’t know what exactly was going on between Nika and Paige, but something in her tone made you feel like there was more to the story than just a friendly invitation. Maybe there was a hidden agenda you didn’t understand. But at the same time, you didn’t want to question it too much. You just wanted to move on.

So, against your better judgment, you went.

The game was high-energy. The crowd was hyped up, the excitement palpable in the air. But all you could focus on was Paige.

When you stepped into the arena, your eyes immediately locked onto her. She was on the court, warming up, looking focused as ever. She glanced at the crowd, and you saw her eyes flicker over you. You almost wanted to look away, but you didn’t. You just stood there, indifferent, pretending you didn’t care, pretending that it didn’t affect you.

After the game, you decided to leave right away, hoping to avoid another awkward encounter. You were tired of the emotional rollercoaster, tired of feeling like the strings were being pulled every time Paige was nearby. But just as you were about to exit the stands, you heard her voice.

“Hey!” Paige’s voice was tentative, unsure, but you could hear the urgency in it. She had come after you, and for a split second, you wished you could have just kept walking.

You stopped in your tracks but didn’t turn around. Instead, you kept walking, forcing yourself to stay calm, unaffected.

“I didn’t think you’d be here,” Paige said, catching up with you. Her footsteps were light, but they seemed louder than usual in the silence between you two.

“Yeah, well. I’m here,” you replied, keeping your voice flat.

There was a pause, a heavy one, before Paige spoke again. “I’ve been trying to reach you... and I, uh... I don’t know what to say. It’s just... it’s been hard.”

You didn’t say anything at first, just continuing to walk at a steady pace, refusing to let her get under your skin.

“I’m sorry,” she added quietly. “For everything. I know I hurt you. And I didn’t mean to, but—”

“Paige, please,” you interrupted, your voice more distant than before. “I’ve heard it before. And I don’t need to hear it again. You were fine. You got everything you wanted. You had Azzi, and I stayed behind. I accepted it.”

Her face fell, and you could tell the guilt was weighing on her. “It wasn’t like that. It wasn’t just about Azzi. It was everything… I just... I didn’t know how to fix it.”

You stopped walking then, turning to face her, your cold exterior masking everything you really felt. You weren’t going to give in. Not now. Not after everything.

“Well, you didn’t fix it. And now I’m just here, dealing with it. I’ve moved on. You should, too.”

Paige’s face flushed, and you could see the hurt in her eyes, but she didn’t back down. “I didn’t want to lose you, but I felt like I had no choice. It’s all a mess, and I didn’t know what to do…”

You stared at her for a long moment, trying to read her. “It’s too late for that now. We’re both just stuck, right? You and your team. Me and my life. No one to blame, just the way it turned out.”

Paige took a step closer, her voice quiet. “So, that’s it? We’re just done?”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat growing as you tried to push down the emotions that were threatening to spill over. “I don’t know. Maybe it is.”

There was another silence, one that felt heavier than anything that had come before. Paige opened her mouth to speak again, but you didn’t give her the chance. You turned and walked away, leaving her standing there.

And as you walked back to your dorm, you could still feel the weight of her gaze on your back, burning into you.

The days blurred into one another. Your life at UConn was steady—study sessions, lectures, and the occasional hangout with your new friends. You kept your head down, determined to finish your studies and keep away from the chaos of your past. But as much as you tried to distract yourself, there was no escaping it.

Every time you checked your phone, you saw the media posts—the team's photoshoots, the constant updates, the shining moments of Paige and Azzi together. They looked like they were thriving, inseparable, like nothing had ever happened. It triggered something deep inside you—something you’d been trying to bury. The anger, the betrayal, the pain of seeing them so... perfect together.

It made your blood boil. How dare she? How dare Paige get mad at you for moving on with your life at Harvard when she was busy with hers? She had Azzi. She had everything she wanted, and you were left with nothing but a cold, hollow feeling in your chest.

You’d never wanted to feel this way—bitter, resentful, angry—but there was no denying it.

One evening, after a particularly long week of burying your feelings and getting lost in textbooks, your friends invited you to go to the pub. You’d never been one to drink much, but tonight, you needed a release. So, you agreed, wanting to drown the gnawing frustration eating away at you.

The pub, named The Huskies’ Den, was lively as usual. Laughter and chatter filled the air, and the clinking of glasses was a constant background noise. You found yourself letting go, getting lost in the crowd, your mind momentarily distracted from everything that had been weighing on it.

But then, as if the universe had a cruel sense of humor, Paige walked in. She was with her teammates, laughing, her presence lighting up the room as she always did.

At first, you tried to ignore it. You were drunk, and part of you told yourself you didn’t want to ruin the night. But as you watched her, something inside you snapped. You couldn’t pretend anymore. Not tonight.

You approached her, the heat of alcohol making you braver than usual. Paige looked up when she saw you, her expression shifting, flickering between surprise and something else—something unreadable.

“Paige,” you said, your voice thick with the mix of anger and hurt that had been simmering beneath the surface for months. “What the hell is this? You’re mad at me for what happened between us but look at you. You’re with Azzi again, acting like everything is fine. How could you?”

Her teammates fell silent, watching the two of you with uncertain glances, but neither you nor Paige paid them any mind.

Paige took a step toward you, her face a mixture of confusion and apprehension. “What are you talking about?” she asked, her voice quieter now, more vulnerable than before. “Azzi and I are just friends, okay? We’re not together anymore.”

You laughed bitterly, the sound bitter and sharp. “Yeah, sure, just friends. You think I don’t know what you’re doing? You think I didn’t notice how you pushed me aside for her? For her, Paige. For Azzi. You think that makes it better? You think it changes anything?” Your voice grew louder, drawing attention. “You shut me out, Paige. You left me behind for her. You moved on, and I had to watch it all happen. I had to sit back and pretend like it didn’t hurt.”

Her eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to speak, but you didn’t let her. “I’ve been stuck with this shit in my head, wondering what happened to us. Why did you pick her over me? I’ve been stuck here, trying to figure out what the hell happened to us, to me, while you’re out there acting like you’ve got everything together,” you shot back, your words harsh, the alcohol making them sharper than you intended.

Paige opened her mouth, but you didn’t give her the chance to speak again.

“You’re happy with Azzi, aren’t you? You’ve got everything you need with her. Meanwhile, I’m stuck in this mess, watching you from the sidelines like I’m some kind of outsider.”

Her eyes flickered, guilt creeping into her expression. “It’s not like that, I—”

You didn’t let her finish. “No, it’s exactly like that. You have her, and you’ve got your life, and I’ve just been the one left behind. Again.”

Paige’s expression shifted, and she lowered her gaze. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she said softly.

The words, however, didn't bring you any comfort. “You didn’t mean to hurt me?” you repeated, your anger boiling over. “You abandoned me, Paige. You keep choosing her over me, and then saying I’m the one who left and betrayed you. Be so fucking for real right now.”

Paige’s eyes softened for a moment, but you could see it—the hesitation, the wall she’d built to keep you out. “I... I didn’t know it would hurt you this much. I thought you’d be fine. I thought I was doing what was best for everyone, including you.”,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

The words didn’t reach you, not when the hurt had already festered for so long. You stepped closer, your chest tight with everything you had been holding in. “Best for me? You forgot me, Paige. And now you’re acting like nothing happened.”

Paige flinched, and you could see the guilt in her eyes. She opened her mouth to apologize again, but this time, there was something different about her. Something more vulnerable. She stepped closer to you, her voice softer now.

Paige took a step forward, her face filled with regret. She reached out, her hand lightly brushing your arm. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice soft. “I never wanted to make you feel like that. I thought I was doing what was best for everyone, but I see now that I was wrong.”

For a brief moment, you saw it—the vulnerability in her eyes, the regret she couldn’t hide. But the anger still burned. You had done everything, and she had pushed you away.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” you muttered, feeling the weight of everything you had been carrying. “And it’s too late for apologies now.”

Paige's hand dropped from your arm, her face falling as you turned away from her, your frustration overwhelming. But before you could walk off, she reached out again, her voice now pleading. “Wait... can we just... can we talk more? I want to fix this.”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t even turn back. You just kept walking.

The night felt like it would never end, but it wasn’t long before the alcohol started to take its toll. You were drunk, really drunk, and your head was spinning. The frustration from earlier—the hurt, the confusion—was still there, but it felt distant now. All you wanted was to escape it all.

That’s when you felt a hand on your arm. You turned, your vision blurry, and saw Paige standing there, her face serious, but there was something else in her eyes—something softer, more gentle.

“You’ve had enough,” she said, her voice like a calm in the storm.

You tried to protest, but your words were slurred. Before you could say anything, she was guiding you out of the pub, her arm around your waist for support.

“I’m taking you back to my dorm,” she said, her tone firm but not unkind. “You need rest. I don’t care what you say right now.”

You barely had the energy to argue. She led you through the campus, taking you back to her dorm, not asking for your consent, but instead just doing. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the years of familiarity between the two of you, but you didn’t protest.

She helped you into her room, carefully making sure you didn’t fall. You collapsed on the bed, your head spinning, the world around you a hazy blur.

Paige sat next to you, her presence surprisingly gentle, as she began to take care of you. She made sure you were comfortable, checked your pulse, and even tucked you in. You tried to speak, tried to say something—anything—but the words didn’t come.

As you drifted in and out of consciousness, you felt her presence beside you, her hands gently smoothing your hair away from your face. Despite everything that had happened, despite all the anger and hurt, her touch was comforting. It was the touch of someone who had been there for you once before, and maybe—just maybe—was starting to care again. Maybe it was the alcohol, making your eyes see shit, but Paige looks like she’s at peace. And when you feel yourself drifting off to sleep, you might have heard her murmur, “You’re here. You’re actually fucking here”, while holding you close.

The night passed in a blur, and you didn’t know what would happen when you woke up. But for now, you were in her room. Paige had taken you in, cared for you when you needed it most. And somewhere deep down, you felt like maybe, just maybe, things could start to heal.

#paige bueckers #uconn #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #azzi fudd #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers fic #paige x reader #paige x azzi #pazzi #nika muhl #wlw #wlw post #lesbian #sapphic #lesbianism #wlw yearning #wnba #womens basketball

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inupibaldspot · 1 year ago

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So It Matches Your Eyes.

Characters: Gojo Satoru x Reader

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : Highschool!Gojo has a crush on you, idk mane.

To Yaga, this was a sight of fresh air which almost acted a light reminder that his students being so strong and special affiliated with cursed energies where still children.

His four second year students were all under detention after forgetting to make a veil when they carried out a mission. Dealing with the after math which consisted of explains to the elders and finding excuses on how to twist the media had led him to not sleeping for three days! Now he was making all of them write an descriptive essay on why veils are such importance to jujutsu sorcerers . Shoko’s seat was empty though , she was summoned in the infirmary after a third year student was severely injured from a mission, Yaga hoped Shoko didn’t miss out too much of her school days.

Despite, Yaga having a book in his hands as he read through got distracted my a certain trouble maker student, Gojo Satoru. A strong young man born into the esteemed Gojo Clan, blessed with infinity and six eyes was currently looking a certain someone sitting next to him.

You who was always diligent was working on your essay, occasionally closing your eyes with a small pout and when you felt you finally got a point worth writing down,tongue slightly jutting out from the corner of your lips which would make Gojo’s lips curl up as his eyes soften. Ahh young love.

Yaga had noticed how Gojo’s seat would be much closer to yours as compared to the regular seating arrangements, and if anyone Yaga himself would come in early and make changes to the seating, Gojo would always nonchalantly, without fail shift it closer to yours.

“Yaga Sensei, I’m done!” You shouted up from your seat which made both Yaga and Gojo, jump as you rush quickly up to your teacher with your paper which you had your essay written on. “ I’m done so I’ll be leaving. Drama of Haruma Miura will be coming out and I haveeee to watch it live.”

“Wai-!” Ignoring Yaga’s shout you quickly made your way out of the door leaving a trail of dust behind with how quick you were which made Geto laugh at your antics.

Yaga quickly scans through you essay and sighs. It’s well written so I have no place to complain. “Sensei, I’m also done!” Gojo quickly rushes to his teacher and places his paper on his table about to rush away, in a rush to follow you.

Before Gojo could take another step, he felt a tug on his collar as his turns his head to look at his teacher who had a scrowl on his face. “Satoru,I asked for a descriptive essay!”

“Not only did you write me an argumentative essay, your essay completely sided with not putting up a veil because that’s a drag and ordinary people should just suck it up.” Geto sits completely amused, as Yaga never lets go of Gojo’s collar as he continues to shout at him, the way you’ve got Gojo completely following you everywhere with his puppy love was funny as fuck.

You flinch as the door to your slams open which makes you turn your head to find a scrolling Satoru Gojo walk in with his hands in pocket. “ Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?”

“Beats me.” Despite entering the room like an uncivilized person would gently close the door behind him, he didn’t want more scolding from you. His eyes trails to you who sat on your bed with a small table on your bed, your hand was extended with nail polish es sets on the table. “Weren’t you gonna watch a drama or something?”

You huff as you made sure your left hand was staying still,making sure the mail polish dries properly. “He kisses the female lead so I don’t wanna watch the drama no more…”

Gojo’s smiles, a condescending one in fact as he walks and slowly sits on your bed making sure your nail polishes don’t fall over. “Sucks to be you~” He purrs out his words.

“Hmp! I hope Inuoe Waka gets exposed for having a husband.” You say with Gojo going ‘blah blah’ in the background, smile still plastered on his face. Your eyes look over to his, sharing an eye contact as you smile. “Want to put on some nail polish?”

Gojo peers over. “You gonna apply for me right?” And smiles when you have a nod of confirmation as he hurriedly out-stretched his hand towards you.

“Really? I thought you’d be against it,saying something like this ain’t what men do?” Gojo have no shit to that thought, as long as the girl he had a big fat crush on, holds his hand, a win is a win.

You look over you collection. “What color do you want?.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Maybe blue…a blue which would look similar to your eyes.”

“Beautiful…” Gojo slightly melts as you peer over your collection, your hair slightly covering your face as the evening light from the sun gives your face a heavenly look. “I meant of course! My eyes are a beautiful blue!” He stammers through his sentences as he fights back the heat on his face.

You looked at him with a scowl, what an egotistical brat! Was written all over your fave but then you didn’t say a word as you picked up a color and held his hand, bringing it closer to yours as you start applying the nail polish.

Gojo felt as if the part of his hands which were held were extremely warm, he hoped he doesn’t start sweating. But as he continues to look at you and your eyes which was focused on his fingers, he felt very light, as if this was how it was always meant to be with him being with you and you who looked simply so beautiful as the room was engulfed in a comfortable silence.

“Done!” You smiled as you looked at the nail polish on Gojo’s fingers before your lips curled upwards turned into a pout. “You’re so unfair, Satoru…”

Gojo tilted his head in confusion. “What did I do?”

“Even your hand is so pretty.” You huff as you brought your hands next to his. Gojo’s hands were big yet it was so slim with proper trimmed nails , you had no doubt if he were to become a nail model he’d be booked and busy.

Gojo felt heat rush into his face as he tried to keep his heart from beating too fast as his brain starts to make unconfirmed scenario but in which all of them contained you. “What do you mean ‘even’?”

You looked into his eyes for a brief second as you slowly look away, your cheeks had a beautiful flush to it. “I mean… you’re born into the Gojo clan so you’re already freaking rich… you have such cool cursed techniques, you’re already a special grade sorcerer.”

Gojo bites the inside of his cheeks In disappointment from your answer. As he opened his mouth, about to make a snarky remark you beat him to it.

“You’re tall, your hair always looks good no matter how you style it, your eyes are so beautiful which looked like the limitless skies , you’re also good looking…” you finally look into his eyes, Gojo thought that it was his day to die for a second at how adorable you looked with a shy look into your face. “So it’s unfair that you even got pretty hands.. you literally got everything.”

“…you.” Gojo muttered in a low, quiet voice which you couldn’t understand properly so you titled you head as you have him a confused look, blush still dusted on your cheeks from your confession.

“I don’t have you…” He repeated. “If you were mine then only can I say I have everything.” Gojo had always made many scenarios which was about him confessing to you as he attended class, in his showers, before he slept but this, this wasn’t part of his scenario. This wasn’t how he thought he’d be confessing to you but then the moment now seemed just right.

“I see… I guess that really means you’ve got everything.” You break into a smile as you then put out your hand towards him. “Do you mind coloring this hand of mine?”

Gojo smiles as his heart soars, he tries to control his lips from curling into a smile but then despite being the strongest sorcerer of his generation he is unable to; he was simply that happy, so happy that you reciprocated his feelings. “What color?”

“Blue like yours…So we can show everyone that I belong to you,Satoru.”

Guys I’m kinda proud of this cus even I was giggling, twirling my hair and swinging my legs writing this

#gojo imagine #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo saturo #gojo satoru imagine #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagine #gojo fluff

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r4spb3rr13s · 10 months ago

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“what? surprised i’m smarter than you, bakugou?”

katsuki doesn’t have an answer.

the first day he saw you, you were striding past him towards the dorm room right next to his with mina hanging off your arm. you had thick sunglasses pushing your hair back, chunky gold hoops dangling from your lobes and a big, playboy bunny necklace resting between your tits.

he had to hold in the aggressive eye-roll when you introduced yourself to him with a sly grin. your lips were glittery, baby pink and looked soft- no, they didn’t, what?

he’d stared at your hand and went into his room without a word.

his night was spent listening to you and mina blast someone called ‘ayesha erotica’. he’d never wanted to blow someone’s speakers up more.

it unfortunately wasn’t the last he’d seen of you- no, you decided to start popping up everywhere. it’s almost like you were trying to get on his nerves. that’s how katsuki felt anyways.

he would be leaving his lecture, and you were strutting past in the denim shorts held around your hips with a chunky belt. your belly ring glinted in the sun, and the click clack of your heeled boots made the zip of your ‘juicy’ hoodie slip down with every step.

he hated to say it, but he froze in the doorway and watched the entire way you walked.

then he snapped himself out of it and hurried away like an embarrassed schoolgirl.

but then it happened again- this time, you were in flared leggings and a tube top, platform sandals showing off your painted toes - katsuki noticed they matched your nails.

you’d been talking to mina, and noticed him staring, so you waggled your fingers at him.

he flipped you off.

it was the start to a beautiful friendship, historians would say.

when the pink girl brought you to one of their parties, katsuki dropped his head into his hands and tried his best not to groan. you, with your dumb smile, stood in a tiny halter-neck dress.

your smile didn’t bother katsuki the most that night, though - it was more the fact hanta and denki had taken it upon themselves to sandwich you in between them.

but he watched you- you with your big, wide eyes, your stupid giggles and you slapping their chests and telling them to ‘stooooppp!’

it really pissed him off.

how could you be so dumb? it was obvious what they were doing, and everyone knew they were fucking whores-

why was he so mad?

he shut himself in his room for a week after that.

so when he saw you and mina stood outside your professor’s office holding pieces of paper, katsuki didn’t know what to think.

oh god, what if you started crying at your grade? fuck- he just needed to walk away and avoid your blubbering-

“bakugou!! come look at y/n’s essay!” mina yelled.

his shoulders dropped, and he prepared himself to pretend to be nice - it took so much energy to pretend to be nice for katsuki!

but still, he didn’t want to make your brows furrow, or eyes fill with tears. he didn’t fucking know why. he just didn’t, okay?

so he trudges over… and you’re grinning, from ear to ear. you’re in your typical attire - a tiny cami holding you in and a zebra print skirt cutting off way too high to be deemed appropriate for school.

he wasn’t really complaining though, because every flash of skin made his heart punch his chest.

you thrust the paper into his hands, and he grunts, giving you a little glare.

you stick your tongue out at him, but he starts to read.

and… it’s amazing?

it’s well written, the paragraphs flow, your topic is so interesting and something katsuki would have never even begun to think about-

and as he reaches the last page, he looks at the mark in red pen.

100/100.

his jaw drops, and it must have been obvious because you let out a snort.

“what? surprised i’m smarter than you, bakugou?”

and dumbly, he nods.

then he looks up and sees your frown. then he realises he nodded. then mina clears her throat.

“why are you surprised?”

he looks away and gives you your paper back. it’s obvious, really- but he can’t say that. it’s so douche-y… but he has been being a douche.

he dares to look back at you, and when he does, his heart plummets to his feet.

you’re stood with a hand on your hip, brow raised. you’re smart, beautiful and you have an attitude… katsuki stands there trying to piece it together.

you scoff and push the paper to his chest, “keep it. maybe you can learn a thing or two from it, katsuki.”

oh fuck.

he has a crush on you?

#{ short shorts }#{ mcbling baddie }#bnha #bnha x reader #bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bnha imagines #bakugou imagines

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mermaidgirl30 · 1 year ago

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✨Daddy’s Best Friend, Mr. Miller Pt 3: October Surprises and Secrets Slurred ✨

dbf! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

-Pairing: Joel x fem! reader

-Rating: Explicit (18+ Only MDNI)

-Word Count: 13.2k

- Tags: Porn with Plot, dbf! Joel, fingering, oral, face riding, dirty talk, dom! Joel, (reader is 25, Joel is mid 40’s)

- Chapter Summary: Your relationship gets more heated with a lot more intimacy going on between you and Joel, but will you finally get caught?

- A/N: I love this series so much and can’t wait to bring you more filthy scenes between these two 🤭 Sorry not sorry this chapter is so long, it’s worth it 😉 Reblogs are appreciated and I always love seeing your comments ❤️

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

October rushes through Austin as the cool, autumn breeze whisks through your soft curls. The campus is buzzing with focused, anxious students who rush to get last minute papers and assignments in for midterms. You have been diligent and already turned in your law papers, so you’re now free of midterm anxiety, unlike the other students in your classes.

The historic, massive library is filled up with laptops splayed all over tables and empty Starbucks coffee cups that sit next to their cramped hands that struggle to keep writing in notebooks. Sunlight beams through the stained-glass windows as you pass through the library, making your way out into the cold to go find your car somewhere in the mix of all the campus traffic.

As you open the library doors, you get a shot of cold air that blows right through your purple cardigan, and you wrap it around yourself to try to keep the chill from seeping down into your bones. When you cross campus, your mind wonders to Joel and how much you want to see his handsome face right now. The thought of his massive hands cupping your chin and those pretty coffee colored eyes staring down at you make you shiver with anticipation.

Joel, Joel, Joel. He’s always on your mind, never letting a minute pass without him there. You both can’t leave each other alone, not able to go a day without speaking to one another. He always asks if you have plans after school or when your shift gets over at the coffee shop off Main Street. It’s almost like you’re a normal couple. Almost. There’s just that itch behind your ear that’s always buzzing when you’re with him. That loud, annoying ringing in your ears that reminds you that you’re sneaking around your parents, mostly your dad. You honestly have no idea how he would react to the news, so you’d hide it for as long as you could. Your mom might take it lighter, but your dad. He might actually lose it, and you do not want to see that happen.

When you get to your shining Nissan Rouge and hear the click of the unlocked door, you jump in and slam the door shut, throwing your belongings over in the passenger seat. As you put the silver key in the ignition and turn, it barely hums to life and then dies again. The glowing orange check engine light blinks in front of you, and you pound your hands on the sleek steering wheel.

“No, fuck! Please, work for me,” you beg as you turn the key and try again, praying for a miracle. The engine spurts out a pathetic, muffled sound and then magically starts up as the car hums to life once again. “Oh, thank God,” you sigh as you wipe the sweat from your forehead.

Joel. He’d know what to do. You pull out your phone and dial Joel’s number in a hurry, trying to keep your patience as you tap your nails on the black steering wheel. Joel picks up on the third ring.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he drawls into the phone, his voice sounding like thick honey and sinking its way down into the pit of your stomach where warmth spreads.

“Hi, handsome,” you respond, a small smile spreading quickly over your face as the sound of his deep voice automatically soothes you.

“How was school? You get all your essays turned in? I don’t even have to ask, you already did. Didn’t you?” he asks with the sound of a light, raspy laugh on the end of the line.

“Just got them in today, actually,” you smile.

“Look at you gettin’ them in early. Such a smart girl, aren’t ya?” he purrs, making you bite your lip in response to the audible praise.

“Mhm,” you hum, your voice suddenly turning shaky as you look at the glowing engine light that warns you you shouldn’t be driving the car right now. Joel notices your shift in tone and responds with an edge to his voice.

“Everything alright, darlin’?” he asks concerned. It gives you goosebumps the way he’s always so protective, so careful of you.

“Umm-I’m fine, it’s just my car. My check engine light came on just now, and a few minutes ago I couldn’t even get it to start,” you respond back carefully with furrowed brows.

“Oh, shit. That ain’t good. You need a ride home? I can come get you-”

You cut him off and shake your head. “No, no. You’re at work, and my car came back on.”

“Darlin’, I don’t care that I’m at work. I don’t want ya drivin’ if it ain’t safe,” he says with a serious tone. You can tell he’s getting worked up, the way his breath falters and his sighs come out deep and clipped.

“Joel, really. I’m not that far from campus. I can make it home. Promise,” you respond with a more lighthearted response, hoping that Joel will settle with that answer.

“I don’t know if-”

You cut him off again. “Really, it’s fine. I’ll make it home,” you push.

You hear a long sigh and you can visually see him running his thick fingers through his patchy salt and pepper scruff. The vision of it makes warmth spread against your thighs as you squeeze your legs shut tight. “Fine, but I’m lookin’ at your car tomorrow and fixin’ it. S’not safe for you to be drivin’ it with your check engine light on,” he says with a raspy huff.

“Oh, you’re gonna fix it for me?” you ask with a stupid grin planted on your face.

“Mhm, gonna try my damn hardest to,” he replies as he clears his throat.

“And what do I owe you for your services, Mr. Miller?” you ask in a flirtatious voice.

You hear his low chuckle in the receiver, and it makes you giggle in response. “You don’t owe me nothin’, sweetheart. Just wanna make sure you’re safe,” he says with a light laugh. The sound makes your heart pound against your chest. Sweetheart. Safe. The words nearly take you out. He’s such a gentleman.

“Alright,” you say with a giggle. “I guess I’ll let you get back to work,” you sigh, not wanting to hang up on the handsome man that has your heart beating erratically for those gorgeous honey brown eyes.

“You be careful goin’ home, darlin’. Text me as soon as you make it there. I mean it,” he says with a serious, clipped tone.

“I promise,” you say back in a non serious tone.

“Okay. Well, I’ll talk to you later, beautiful. Remember, as soon as you get home,” he reminds you with a knowing tone in his voice.

“You got it. I’ll talk to you later,” you slur into the phone.

“Alright. Bye, gorgeous.” With that he hangs up the phone as you hear the line click dead. You throw your phone in the passenger seat and turn up the radio as Breaking Benjamin blares through the loud speakers. You nod your head to the beat and start to drive off, praying the car gets you there in one piece.

The glowing check engine light stays on the entire drive home, but you make it back safely. You park the car in the hooded garage and turn off the engine, letting it sit idle in the cool room. Whenever you make it through the door, you run straight into your dad as he almost spills his hot coffee all over his pressed white shirt.

“Shit, sorry dad! Didn’t see you there,” you apologize with frantic hands that steady the coffee cup in his hand.

“Careful now, I have a Zoom meeting in five minutes!” he sighs with the hint of agitation in his voice.

“Sorry, dad,” you apologize again.

Before you head to your room, you turn and tell your dad about your messed up car. “Oh, dad, before I forget to tell you. Joel’s coming over tomorrow to take a look at my car. The check engine light came on, and he’s gonna try to fix it for me,” you say lightly.

“Why didn’t you just ask me first? I could’ve taken a look. You sure asked Joel pretty quick there,” he says with his eyebrow raised and the hint of suspicion in there.

You gulp and try not to let your widening eyes give you away. “Oh, uhhh. I just thought you’d be too busy to take a look at it, and you know how good he is with fixing cars,” you shrug innocently.

“And you thought he’d be less busy than me tomorrow?” he asks with the tic of his jaw and wondering eyes staring questionably at you.

Your heart is in your chest and you feel the faint drops of sweat forming on your forehead. “I mean, I just didn’t want to bother you is all. Figured once I told you then you’d just tell me to ask Joel anyways,” you lie with a straight face, keeping your composure together.

He looks at you a few seconds and then nods, face relaxing a little. “Yeah, you’re definitely right, hun. That’s exactly what I would’ve done. Alright, well I need to hop on this call, so I’ll see you later.”

He turns into the direction of his office and you round the corner into the entryway and relax against the wall, breathing out a long sigh of relief. That was close. Too close for comfort.

You head up the stairs and back into your bedroom filled with lilac walls and scents of vanilla and citrus hanging in the air. Apartments. You need to find an apartment and fast.

The air is stuffy and hot in the garage, even though the autumn breeze blows gently outside as it carries red and golden leaves across the driveway. You’re wearing a light blue hoodie and cut off black denim shorts while you sit atop the wooden workbench in your garage. You gently kick your dangling legs off the side of the workbench and stare at the most gorgeous man working on your car. Joel Miller.

You watch the way he picks apart every single wire and car part he can get his hands on. His tousled dark curls sit slicked back against the top of his head by sweat that cakes his forehead, his grey t-shirt bunches around his thick arms every time he flexes and reaches under the hood, and his hands stay covered in grease and dirt from tearing apart your car piece by piece.

You can’t help but gawk at how ridiculously hot he is right now, can’t help the way you bite your lower lip seductively and run your tongue across the bottom of your lip in hopes to get a taste of him. You start to wonder what it’d be like to be bent over the hood of your car while he takes you from the back, start to imagine how good it’d feel to have his thick cock between your slick center as he fucks you senseless into oblivion. Can’t help the burning need in between your thighs as you squeeze your legs together and choke down a moan as slick starts to pool in the center of your lacy underwear.

“You alright there, darlin’?” he asks with concern hinting in his voice as he washes his hands in the garage sink, stepping closer to you as he wipes his hands off on a bunched up rag. “You look a little flushed there,” he says as he steps in front of you, just a few inches from meeting your knees.

“Umm, yeah. I’m fine. Just got a little hot, I guess,” you gasp out, nervously panting as your jaw drops open.

He slides up to you and stops right in front of your thighs, locking his knees up with yours as his t-shirt sticks against his broad chest and bulging biceps. You can’t help but stare at him and his pretty brown eyes with flecks of gold that sneak out and catch you unawarely. You want to run your fingers through his messy greying hair, want to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him until you taste every single part of him as you unravel yourself around him.

“Why don’t you close your jaw, sweetheart. Gonna start drooling if you keep it up,” he smirks as he cups your chin and helps you close. You swallow away all the heat and try to calm yourself as he stands before you, but you can’t. He’s too much, too fucking much.

“Sorry, couldn’t help it,” you say flirtatiously as you bat your long eyelashes at him, feeling your blush paint the edges of your cheeks crimson.

“You gonna tell me what you were thinkin’ about?” he asks with the tic of his jaw, leaning his weight against the bench as his hand gently brushes your hip.

“I was just thinking how hot you looked leaning over the hood of my car. And your messy curls, how I want to run my fingers through them right about now,” you smile as he leans against you, taking his other hand and placing it against the top of your thigh as he gently runs his rough hand down to your knee.

“Oh, yeah? S’that right?” he laughs as he takes his other hand and pushes your thighs apart, stepping in between them as he runs calloused fingers up and down your smooth skin, turning your breaths ragged from the heat of his massive hands on you.

“Mhm,” you choke out, already worked up from his light flirting and the weight of his thick fingers on you.

“What else were ya thinkin’ about, hmmm?” he hums out, his eyes growing darker by the second.

“I was thinking…” you start as you run your fingers through his damp curls, making him groan as your nails scrape lightly against his scalp. “How good it’d feel if you fucked me on the hood of my car,” you purr, whispering into his ear seductively. You feel the bulge in his jeans already starting to form, feel how turned on he’s getting at the thought of you spread wide open for him on the top of your car.

“Christ, baby. Such a dirty girl, aren’t ya? Wantin’ me to fuck you senseless while I make you cum all over my cock. That’s what you want, ain’t it? To make you scream my name while I make you cum again and again and again…”

His voice lowers with a growl as he wraps his hands around your hips and drags you forward, ending right on the edge of the workbench as your legs clench around his back, his hands moving over the denim of your shorts as he snakes a hand up under the material, finding your soaked lace absolutely ruined for him.

You choke out a moan as he dips his fingers under your lace, slowly spreading your folds as his thumb finds your clit and circles you meticulously, stifling another moan out of you as you dig your fingers into his back and wrap your legs tighter around him.

“So fuckin’ wet for me, sweetheart. Such a good girl. Always ready for me. Always so needy, ain’t that right?” he smirks as he continues circling you, making your heels dig into his back as you slide a hand through his messy curls and drop your lips to the shell of his ear. Ragged moans leave your lips as he pushes two fingers inside your dripping hole while his thumb continues dancing over your throbbing bundle of nerves.

“Feels so good, daddy,” you pant, biting down on his earlobe as you hold in a loud moan while he circles you faster, getting you all worked up over him. You hear the sloshing noises of your wetness and his fingers pumping in and out of you, and it’s so fucking hot that more slick slides down your center as you start to come apart around him. You’re so close, almost there already.

“That’s right, baby. Daddy’s gonna make it all better,” he coos, curling up his fingers inside you as he hits the spongy part of your walls that elicit another moan deep into his ear as your toes curl in your Converse.

“Joellll,” you whine into his ear, dragging your fingers against the curls that sit matted to the back of his neck.

“What is it, baby? Can’t handle daddy’s fingers, huh?” he teases as his lips ghost across yours effortlessly. “Tell daddy what you want,” he smirks, speeding up the shift of his thumb against your aching clit.

“Want you…. oh, God,” you moan as he curls his fingers inside you nice and slow, moving them up further as you latch around him tighter.

“Go on, finish your sentence,” he smirks with clenched teeth as he works you over nice and thoroughly.

“Want you to fuck me,” you whine against the shell of his ear.

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Can’t fuck you here, sweetheart. Don’t want your father findin’ you with my cock buried deep in that wet pussy now, do ya?”

You whine out as your breathing becomes hard to control, tattered moans filling his ear like a choir of angels. “No, don’t want that,” you gasp out, your fingers tangled in knots against the back of his soft t-shirt. “I want you though. Want you so fucking bad,” you groan as he continues building slick around his thick fingers.

“Wanna put this hard cock inside that pretty pussy of yours. Wanna fuck you so hard over this bench right now that you won’t be able to stand for the rest of the night. Wanna cum inside that drippin’ pussy while you moan my name as I take you from the back,” he growls as he fucks his fingers up inside you deeper, hitting the spongy area again and again as you feel your orgasm about to take flight.

“Want you to moan my name so loud when I make you cum that everyone in the neighborhood knows just who you belong to,” he growls with clenched teeth as he presses down harder on your clit, rubbing it in just the right area that you feel yourself start to spill. You feel the white hot heat start to take over as your eyes roll back and you clench up against his fingers that continuously curl up inside you.

“Joel, I’m… I’m coming,” you moan as you bite down on the scruff of his jaw, feeling your orgasm wash over you as you close your eyes and bite back your moan as you let him have it.

“That’s it, baby. Such a good fuckin’ girl. So good for me,” he praises as you take a few seconds to come out of your blissed out daze, his fingers gently releasing out of you as he brings them up to his mouth and sucks, staring at you with blown out pupils. Your eyes go wide as you watch him drink down your cum, humming to himself as he licks them clean.

“Taste s’good, darlin’. Can never get enough of you,” he purrs as he pulls your drenched underwear back over your cunt and straightens your shorts out again. You grab the back of his neck and pull him toward you, planting your lips over his as the taste of sweat, black coffee, and you enter your mouth. He wraps his hands around your hips and slithers his tongue into your mouth, letting you taste all of him as his senses envelop you, sweat and all.

Before you can get lost in him anymore, you hear the jostle of the doorknob and the squeaking hinges as the garage door starts to open. Joel jumps back out of your reach and grabs the bottle of synthetic oil off the back of the shelf, drawing his dark eyes away from you as you compose yourself with a quick breath and legs that clash together.

Your dad looks up at you with concerned eyes and purses his lips. “Honey, you feeling okay? Your face is all flushed and your eyes are so wide they look bloodshot.”

Your blood runs cold as you gulp down your nerves and flick your eyes over to Joel, watching as he stares at your idle car as he runs a hand nervously up the back of his neck. “I’m okay, dad. Just got a little too hot is all,” you say as you fan yourself with your hand, trying to get rid of the flush of your crimson cheeks.

“Oh, sorry about that sweetie. Want me to get you a bottle of water?” he asks with a gentle nod your way.

“Yeah. Thanks, dad.”

“Alright, honey. Be back in a minute.” He turns to Joel and slaps him on the back in a way that best friends only do. “How’s the car looking? Figure out what’s wrong?” he asks as he looks around the open hood of the car.

Joel loosens the top of the oil and sets it down beside the front wheel. “Yeah, there seemed to be some loose wires that got tangled around each other. I fixed ‘em. The serpentine belt looks to be pretty worn out, so I can stop at the hardware store tomorrow and get a new one. Should be an easy fix. And the car needs an oil change, so I’ll get that done real quick. Then it should be good to drive smoothly,” he says as he plays with the used towel in his hands.

“I can’t thank you enough for doing this, Joel. You sure do take care of my little girl,” he smiles in thanks.

Joel smiles back and chuckles. “Anything for your daughter, George. I always got her back.” He turns your direction and winks at you secretly, making your cheeks turn bright red at the secret meaning behind his words.

“You’re a good man, Joel Miller. Maybe one of these days I can get you to go on a date with one of Claire’s friends. Trust me, some of her friends already drool over you. Should ask one of them out. Could use a woman around the house. Maybe get you laid one of these days,” he teases as he claps a strong hand over Joel’s back.

Joel’s fists clench and his lips twitch at the mention of dating other women. You won’t lie, you feel a heavy weight against your chest and the tinge of jealousy runs hot down your throat. Joel would do no such thing. Mine.

“Nah, man. Thanks for the offer though. I’m good,” he responds. A breath you had been holding blows out, the wave of jealousy washing away as soon as he says the words.

“You sure? Wouldn’t hurt to at least have a night in with one of them. How long has it been, huh?”

“Dad!” you say forcefully, making both of them look your direction as you dig your nails into the wood, jaw locked into place. “Water?” you ask as you raise your eyebrows.

“Right, sorry. Be back in a minute.” With that he races back inside and slams the door shut.

“So, my dad’s trying to hook you up with one of my mom’s friends?” you ask with a raised eyebrow, mostly joking around with him.

“Don’t worry, darlin’. Already have my best girl right here,” he nods your way, curling his lips into a crooked smile. You can’t help but smile back at him and melt at his words. My best girl.

“That’s right. I’m your girl,” you say possessively.

“Damn straight you are,” he smirks, making butterflies flit through your stomach.

Your dad comes back with a cold bottle of water and leaves the two of you alone again, closing the door to go answer a phone call. As you let the fresh water quench your thirst, you watch Joel meander his way under your car, taking his time to change your oil out. You watch his soft t-shirt lift up just a tad, exposing thick dark hair that trails underneath the waistband of his jeans.

It takes everything in you not to go over and straddle him as he works, slipping your hand underneath his jeans as you pull his hard cock out and go down on him, taking him in your mouth nice and slow as you make his ropes of cum slide down the back of your throat. You hold back the temptation, knowing you can’t do that here. Not when your dad’s lurking around the corner of the house.

You sigh and watch him work, making light conversation with him as he puts the cap back on and crawls out from underneath the car. Grease stains his grey t-shirt, and he has a smudge of grease across his nose.

“Joel, come here. You’re a mess,” you giggle as you grab a towel from the metal shelf and jump down off the workbench, going over to stand in front of him. You wipe off the grease from his nose and wipe off his hands next, making sure you get off as much as you can.

“Baby, I could’ve done that,” he smiles as he grabs the towel from you, wiping off what he can from his ruined shirt.

“It’s fine, I wanted to help,” you shrug.

He looks at the grease stain on his finger for a second then back up at you, mischief written all over those hazy brown eyes.

You back up against the wall and raise an eyebrow. “What are you planning, Miller?” you ask suspiciously, holding in a laugh as you see the playful smirk pulling at his lips.

“Me, planning? Never,” he scoffs, the smirk planting firmly against the corners of his mouth. In a flash he cages you against the wall with his thick arms and smears some grease on your jawline. Your eyes go wide as he does it.

“Joel!” you whine as you push against his chest playfully. “That’s not funny,” you say as a giddy laugh escapes your throat.

“It ain’t funny, huh? Then why are you laughing?” he asks as a deep chuckle ruptures from his chest.

“Get it off, now,” you demand playfully as you try to grab the used tan towel from him. He grabs it back from you.

“I got it, I got it,” he laughs as he uses the pristine end of the towel to clean off the grease from your jawline. When he promises he got it, he throws the towel up on the workbench as you reel him in for a kiss. His lips are soft, plush, and they taste like Joel.

“Oh, that reminds me. I got somethin’ for ya,” he says as he breaks the kiss, digging around the back pocket of his dark faded jeans.

“You got me something?” you ask with a surprised lilt to your voice.

“Mhm,” he hums as he grabs his leather wallet and opens it up, digging around to find what he’s looking for.

“What’s the occasion?” you ask curiously, watching him dig around excitedly as his thick fingers push around old receipts and folded up papers.

“Don’t have to be an occasion to get ya somethin’, darlin’,” he chuckles. “But this is kind of an early birthday present, since your birthday’s next month.” He finally finds what he’s looking for and pulls out two tickets that have a matte gloss covering both sides. You flip them over and your eyes go wide at what the tickets say. Two general admission tickets to see Ghost at the Moody Center on November fourteenth sit carefully in your hands. You gulp back tears as you stand frozen in awe as you stare at the glossy tickets.

“Joel…” you gasp out, your eyes probably as wide as an owl right now.

“Thought you’d like ‘em. I know how much you’ve wanted to see ‘em for a long time. Took me a while to find out when they were gonna come to town, so I jumped at the chance when I saw ‘em post new tour dates. And Breaking Benjamin is gonna be their opener. I know how much you like them too and…”

You jump into his arms and wrap your hands around his neck as you thank him over and over again for the best gift ever. You grab his shirt and pull him in for a long kiss as you run your hands through his tousled curls. When you break the kiss, you stand back to look at him in his pretty face as your arms stay wrapped around his neck.

“You’re gonna take me to go see Ghost?” you ask sweetly with big eyes that water faintly.

“I’m gonna take ya to see Ghost,” he nods with a crooked smile as he looks down at you with brown doe eyes that you want to sink right into as they swallow you whole.

You pull him in for another long hug as his strong arms wrap around your waist. “You’re the sweetest, Joel,” you say as you plant your lips on his cheek, staying in his embrace for as long as you can.

“Anything for my girl,” he smiles as he cups your chin, bringing his lips down on yours again. When he pulls back, he keeps his calloused thumb trailing against your jawline, making you dizzy with lovesick thoughts.

“Hey, what’re you doin’ for Halloween?” he asks as he keeps his coffee eyes focused on you, his thumb trailing light circles across your cheekbone.

“I didn’t really have any plans. Sometimes my friends will drag me out to the bars or we’ll find a Halloween party to go to. How come?” you ask, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“Umm well, you wanna come over to my place? We could watch some scary movies, make some popcorn, order a pizza. I know how much you like those classic horror movies. Would be nice to have some company,” he smiles shyly as the corners of his mouth rise up into a crooked grin. He’s perfect, so perfect.

“Joel Miller asking me to watch scary movies? You don’t even really like them,” you laugh as you hang around his neck, his left hand digging deeper into the side of your hip.

“Yeah, well. You rub off on me a lot. And besides, anything to make my girl happy. I jus’ like spending time with you is all, darlin’,” he drawls, his eyes glistening with flecks of light and dark brown mixing together to make a pretty coffee color. His crooked smile makes a dimple press against his cheek, and the lines against his eyes crinkle into complete warmth that fills the hard lines in his face. You think he’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen in your life. Because he is.

“Joel… you leave me speechless. Truly. I’m so, so lucky to have you. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted,” you gush to him as you rest your forehead against his.

“No, darlin’. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

You stifle out a laugh and bring your lips down slowly over his, this kiss more slow and romantic than all the other ones. Who would’ve thought you and Joel Miller would’ve ever been a thing? But here you are. Completely and utterly wrapped up in each other, and you just can’t get enough.

You hear the jiggle of the door handle and see the door opening fast into the garage. You jump out of Joel’s grasp and take a few steps back, separating the distance between him even though it’s getting harder to act like the two of you aren’t completely crazy for each other. You’re out of breath, still dizzy from all the emotions of the last few minutes with Joel. And he looks the same, pupils dilated and a flushed face as he looks up at your father.

Your father stops and puts on his glasses to take a closer look. “Joel, you feeling okay? Your face is flushed too. You good?” he asks as he hands Joel a water.

“Yeah. Just got up too fast from under the car. Should be fine,” he nods as he flicks his eyes over to you, the look of affection returning to his brown doe eyes you can’t get enough of.

“Alright, well dinner’s ready if you wanna stay. She made chicken enchiladas tonight, so pretty sure you’ll wanna stay,” he laughs.

“Sure, wouldn’t miss those,” Joel nods as your dad smiles back at him.

“Well, come on. Come and get it while it’s hot.” Your dad turns toward the door and goes through, leaving it open for you and Joel to follow.

Joel takes your hand in his discreetly and leads you through, rubbing the pad of his calloused thumb against the back of your hand, making you feel all tingly and giddy inside. Before he drops your hand, he brushes your knuckles with his lips and places a slow kiss against the back of your hand. You blush on the spot and smile up at him as he returns one back, and then he drops your hand as he walks into the light of the dining room.

Fuck. You have it bad for Joel Miller and you’re falling fast. Very fast.

Halloween Night

You spend the entirety of the afternoon getting ready for your night in with Joel. You shower, douse yourself in Victoria’s Secret Bombshell perfume, and pick out the perfect Halloween costume to wear. You go with a short black mini dress that barely grazes your thighs, the long sleeves hanging off your shoulder that leave your neck and the tops of your shoulders exposed to the cool air.

You carefully fix your hair into loose spiral curls and secure a long pink bow in the back of your silky hair. You apply shimmery pink eyeshadow to the hoods of your eyelids, draw perfect cat eyes with liquid eyeliner, and purse your lips after applying the shiny pink lip gloss. After slipping on a pair of black heels, you look at yourself in the full length mirror and grab the pair of fuzzy black cat ears as you top off your costume. Joel’s going to lose his mind when he sees you in this getup.

After nervously driving over to his house, you now stand on the front of his porch and wait for him to come open the door after you ring the doorbell. You pull on your sleeves, your legs shaking as the cold evening wind hits your bare legs. After a few seconds he opens the door and pulls it back.

“Hey, sweetheart. You…” His voice cuts off as his brown eyes go wide as he lets out a low whistle, slowly taking in your figure from head to toe.

You twirl around slowly for him, letting him see all of you and watch him fall apart. “Trick r treat,” you smirk. “Gonna give me something sweet to eat?” you purr, batting your dark lashes up at him sweetly.

You hear him curse quietly under his breath and watch him rake his hand slowly over his patchy beard. “Goddamn, darlin’. Such a pretty little kitty cat. And that dress, fuck,” he bites out as he gazes his dark eyes over your long legs. “Prettiest girl that ever stood in my doorway, that’s for sure. C’mere,” he calls as he grabs your waist and pulls you into his broad chest, pressing his lips against yours as you chase the taste of his black coffee scent you so desperately love.

When you pull away you click your tongue at him. “Thought you were supposed to have a costume on today?” you say with a raised brow, playfully pushing at his chest.

“This is my costume,” he replies with an amused expression on his face.

Your eyes trail down him slowly. He wears a Halloween black t-shirt, an open red flannel, and dark blue jeans that form against his muscular thighs. You shake your head and pull off your cat ears, placing them over his tousled dark curls as you position it to balance on his head perfectly.

You laugh as you take in the big, strong man with the fluffy cat ears on. “There. Now you have a costume on,” you giggle as he just shakes his head and pulls you inside while he shuts the door behind him.

“Funny, very funny,” he chuckles, a dimple forming against his cheek which makes you only melt more for him. “Wanna take ‘em back now?”

“Nope,” you shake your head, holding a laugh in as you watch him examine his face in the mirror, sighing as he takes in the fuzzy ears atop his head.

“I look ridiculous,” he groans, crossing his arms over his chest as his biceps pull at the red flannel, making you anxious to curl up against them on the couch.

“No, you’re adorable,” you respond, lingering your hand against his soft t-shirt as you curl your hand around it.

“Don’t think so, darlin’. That’s all you. You gorgeous girl,” he says with a low drawl, his caramel eyes honing in as he backs you up against the wooden staircase, wrapping his arms around your waist tightly. Before he leans in, the front door twists open and he pulls away from you in a hurry, putting as much distance between the two of you before Sarah walks in.

Your eyes grow wide as you weren’t expecting her to be here tonight. Sarah gasps as her eyes flick from you to Joel, clearly confused on what’s going on. Her long curls fall over her shoulders as she stands in a Cowboys jersey and black yoga pants with war paint smeared across her cheeks.

She says your name with questions ringing in her tone. “What are you doing here? On Halloween? Shouldn’t you be at a party or something?” she asks as she looks over your outfit carefully, her eyes going over to Joel as she takes in the cat ears that sit perched atop his head.

“Uh dad, why are you wearing those?” she asks as a giggle sounds loudly across the lit up hall.

He throws the ears off and hands them back to you, running a hand through his messy curls as he works to stay composed. “Don’t worry about it,” he says defensively. “And she came over so I could work on her car,” he confirms.

“But you just fixed her car a few days ago?” she says with raised brows, her eyes flicking back and forth between you and him.

“Uhhh yeah. But the light came back on this morning, so I brought it over. Joel said he could take a look real quick. I was just about to head back out. Shouldn’t take too long,” you say with a calm, collected demeanor, giving nothing away.

She eyes you both suspiciously and finally nods. “Okay then. Whatever you say,” she rolls her eyes. “But anyways, look at you! That outfit is so hot, my dad would never let me wear anything like that,” she pouts, crossing her arms over the orange jersey as it scrunches up underneath her.

“Maybe when you’re thirty,” he teases. She just shakes her head and sticks her tongue out at him. He chuckles out a deep laugh in response.

“Whateverrrrr,” she drawls out. She turns back to you and beams her pearly white smile as her curls bounce up and down as she moves. “Bet you’ve got all the boys wrapped around your finger in that outfit,” she smirks out. Joel’s eyes grow a shade darker as he focuses on you, trying his best not to say a word in response.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. Maybe just one,” you smirk, your eyes flicking over to his brown irises as you face Sarah again, careful not to give anything away.

“Oooooo you have a boyfriend? Why haven’t I met him? Is he cute? Is he a good kisser?!” she yells excitedly as she hounds you for information.

“Sarah!” Joel warns, telling her to calm down as his eyes narrow over her.

“Sorry,” she whines, giving you a small smile as you return one to her.

“What are you doin’ back here? Thought you were goin’ to your friend’s to go trick r treatin’?” he asks with raised brows, hands on his hips as his jaw clenches up.

“I am. Just forgot to grab my purse,” she says as she reaches around you and grabs her purple over the shoulder purse and heads back to the door. “Alright, heading back out. Guess I’ll see you sometime soon?” she asks as she looks over at you behind her shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m sure you will,” you nod her way, waving a quick goodbye to her.

“Sarah?” Joel calls before she heads out the door.

“Yeah?” she asks before closing the door.

“Not too late, alright?” Joel says with his brows furrowed together.

“Yeah, be back before midnight,” she promises.

“Sarah?” he calls out again, making her groan at the name.

“Huh?”

“Love you,” he says softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as his face relaxes into happiness.

She smiles gently and nods. “Love you too, dad.” With that she closes the door and runs off to the burgundy Cadillac that awaits her out front.

You can’t help but smile at Joel, butterflies flitting through your stomach as you take in his soft side. He’s always so careful and gentle with Sarah, always telling her how much he loves her. He’s such a softie, and you can’t help but fall for him even more as you watch him.

“What?” he asks as he snakes his arms around your waist, backing you up against the stairwell again.

“You’re such a softie,” you smile as you wrap your arms around his neck while you run your fingers through the scruff on his neck.

“Only for Sarah and you,” he grins, dropping his lips down to yours as you drink him in again, feeling every surface of his plush lips against yours.

He breaks the kiss after a few seconds and pulls you into the living room. “C’mon. I’ll get the movie started then I’ll call in a pizza for us. Pepperoni?” he asks as he leads you over to the cream colored couch and sits you down against the soft cushions.

“Pepperoni,” you nod. He turns on the tv and pulls his phone out, heading into the kitchen as he calls Pizza Hut and places an order to be delivered to the house.

You take in your surroundings of the darkened room. Vanilla candles sit sprawled against the glass coffee table, the large display of the tv glows in the near distance as the menu comes up for the movie Scream. You hear Joel in the other room hang up the phone as he places it down on the counter.

“You want some popcorn, baby?” he asks from the other room, his voice carrying into the living room like a song you want to put on repeat.

“Mhm and a Dr. Pepper, please,” you call back.

“I gotcha, baby. Be right there.”

When the popcorn is done popping and the cans of soda are taken out of the fridge, he joins you on the couch and places one hand on your thigh as the other one presses play on the remote, making the movie hum to life as the beginning titles show across the lit up screen.

You take a sip of Dr. Pepper and pop some popcorn into your mouth as the buttery taste slides down your throat conveniently. You curl your legs onto the couch and fold yourself against Joel, letting your arms wrap around him as his arm flexes behind you. He pulls you tight to his side as his hand runs gently up and down your arm, causing your body to fully relax against him as you breathe in his cologne and woodsy scent. He smells like a piece of heaven, your piece of heaven.

He takes a drink of his Dr. Pepper and places it on the coffee table, leaning back into you as he adjusts himself into the back of the cushions and lays a soft kiss against the top of your head, making you melt beneath him.

When the scene of Ghostface asking Casey what her favorite scary movie is comes up, Joel mimics his voice and asks you the same thing in a more southern, non scary tone. “What’s your favorite scary movie?” he asks mysteriously as you giggle into his chest.

“You should know this one,” you answer back, eyes flicking up to his as he looks you over carefully before responding.

“Halloween,” he answers automatically.

“Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner,” you yell out, pulling a laugh from deep within his chest as you hear it rumble against your ear.

“Knew it,” he says proudly. “And what’s mine?”

You lay your head in his lap and look up at him, deep brown eyes staring down at you as he awaits your answer. He’s so pretty that it physically hurts. “Joel, The Lord of the Rings does not count as a scary movie,” you laugh out as he smiles down at you.

“Sure it does. It has spiders, orcs, dark themes.”

You push his chest playfully. “It’s fantasy. This is a scary movie,” you remark as you point to the tv, watching Ghostface chase his victim across the yard.

“Yeah, well. Still,” he vocalizes with a sigh. “Would you watch all of ‘em with me?” he asks faintly, his chocolate eyes glazing down to yours.

You turn to him and nod. “Of course I would. I’d watch amything with you,” you reply with a smile.

The corners of his lips curl up into a soft smile and he leans down and kisses you without holding back at all. He tangles his fingers in your curls and you open your mouth up, allowing him to slide his tongue into your mouth as he finds your tongue, dancing around as you drink down the taste of him slowly, passionately.

One hand slides down to your thigh as he grazes calloused fingers up and down your inner thigh, making you breathe heavier as he bites at your lower lip, heating up the room as the two of you start to get lost in each other. His hand reaches up, up, gently sliding the edge of your dress up your thigh, working his way nice and slow to where he wants to be. To your aching center that yearns for his touch.

Before he can make it any further, the doorbell rings, forcing the two of you apart as you lift up off his lap. He sighs as he pushes off the couch, muttering something under his breath that sounds like a complaint of interrupting him when he was busy with you. You giggle at his ramblings and wait till he comes back.

You hear the exchange of pizza and money and can smell the fresh cheese and pepperoni that wafts through the air of the dark living room. After another minute, Joel comes in and sets the pizza on the coffee table, telling you to eat up. You grab a slice and take a bite, letting the warm goodness fill your stomach as you set your eyes on the movie again, trying to keep focus on that instead of the handsome menace of a man that sits next to you.

“So, what’s so attractive about a killer that wears a mask? I don’t get it. With all the viral videos of masked men goin’ around, I don’t get the fuss. I even catch Sarah’s friends talking ‘bout it sometimes.” Joel shakes his head and takes another bite out of his pepperoni slice.

You giggle in response. “I don’t know. Guess that’s kind of a part of the dark romance culture now and can be kinda thrilling? A masked man in the bedroom. I mean, I get why they like it. It’s just something new and intriguing, a little dangerous, exciting even…” You stop there, not wanting to give away that you too might have a mask kink.

“Oh, is that right?” Joel smirks deviously, one of his eyebrows rising higher as he looks directly at you. “You into that shit, too?” he asks curiously as he takes his last bite, lapping his tongue along his lower lip and wiping away the last evidence of red sauce from his mouth. You try your best not to bite your lip, wanting to lick every single scrap of sauce off him slowly.

“I mean, I get the hype. Guess it would be kind of hot,” you blush, looking down at your lap to hide the crimson of your cheeks.

“I knew it,” he says as he claps a big hand on his thigh in knowing. “So you’re saying if I ever bought one of those dumb masks, you’d want me to wear it in the bedroom?” he asks as his eyebrows go up curiously while his hand digs into the back of the couch forcefully.

“I think I’d just prefer to see your handsome face, Joel. Besides, I don’t see you doing that anyways,” you laugh and hit him playfully in the shoulder.

“You’re right, darlin’. Don’t think I’d do that either,” he chuckles.

“But,” you lean into his chest and press your glossy lips to the shell of his ear seductively. “Think I’d let you put me in some handcuffs though,” you purr out as you tug on his earlobe and pull back with a sly smirk on your face.

You see the way his pupils expand and the way his chest rises and falls deeper as the blood flows thicker in the veins of his neck. You see the way he adjusts himself on the couch and clears his raspy throat. You started something, and now he’ll have to finish it.

You smile to yourself triumphantly and turn to face the tv, scooting up to the edge as you reach for your Dr. Pepper and take a refreshing sip, setting it back down on the glass coffee table when you’re done.

You hear Joel’s voice come out raspy and deep behind you. “Is that right, sweetheart? You’d let me handcuff those pretty wrists to my headboard?”

You squirm on the edge of the couch and press your legs together, feeling the heat start in your center like a volcano that’s about to rupture. “Mhmm,” you hum out carefully, trying to suppress a moan from coming out of your throat.

“Hmmm.” He leans over and presses his lips against the shell of your ear, his hot breath breathing down your neck and making you feel things you can’t control. “Think I need to go buy a pair of handcuffs then, sweetheart. Show you all the ways I can make you cum while you’re tied to my bed. What do ya think of that, huh? Sounds… erotic as hell,” he whispers darkly in your ear, leaving you panting for more as you keep your eyes focused on the movie on the big screen, watching Ghostface run down the stairs after his next victim mercilessly. He presses a gentle kiss against your cheek and scoots back into the couch, leaving you breathless and wanting.

Just when you think he’s done teasing you, he starts playing with your pink ribbon and runs his hands through your long waves, making your heartbeat gallop like the hooves of a racing Clydesdale against his touch.

“Such a pretty pink ribbon in your hair, baby,” he teases, starting to tug on your hair harder now as he pulls lightly on the curls.

“Mhm, it is,” you reply with a breath held.

“You know I love when you do your hair like this, in these curls. So long and soft to the touch. Can easily do this.” He tugs your head back and pushes you down into the couch. Your hands grip the side of the couch while your ass is up in the air, exposing all for Joel to see.

You feel his hands raise your skirt up to your hips, exposing the meaty flesh of your ass as you feel the cool air brush against the backs of your bare thighs. You hear Joel hum out in approval as he fixes his massive hands over your ass, one hand trailing down as his fingers brush the soaked material of your lace which makes a groan escape your lips.

“White lace, huh? Looks s’good on you, sweetheart. Already so wet for me, ain’t ya? Look at you drip, so fuckin’ wet, baby. Goddamn,” he whistles as he takes his thumb and trails a long line down your center, gathering more slick against the material. You whine out and he chuckles lightly.

“S’right, baby. Gonna make you really whine in a minute,” he murmurs as he slides the wet lace down your legs, gently unclasping your black heels and dropping them to the floor as he unhooks the lace from around your ankles and disposes them on the ground, leaving you completely bare for him to look at.

He slides his calloused thumb over your wetness, and you shiver with need. “Joel, please,” you beg, another whine purring out of you as you feel the pad of his thumb ghost across your clit, leaving you with a pent up cry in your chest.

“What do ya need, baby? Tell me,” he asks, barely touching your folds with the tops of his fingertips which makes you clench up over nothing.

“Need your fingers, your mouth,” you beg, your voice high-pitched from want. With need.

“That so, darlin’?” he teases as he spreads your folds with the tips of his index and middle finger, sliding them up until you can feel them pressed against your clit, drawing slow, meticulous circles as you hear the wetness gathering on his fingers.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan as you dig your fingers into the side of the couch, clawing your light pink fingernails as a way to get ahold of yourself before you’re lost into a sea of lust.

“S’right, sweetheart. I know exactly what you need,” he coos.

Before he takes it any further, he drops his hand from your center and lays back against the couch, leaving you out of breath and waiting. “Why’d you stop?” you whine as you turn in the direction he’s in and see him smirking up at you with trouble written all over his face.

“C’mere,” he calls as he curls his index finger in his direction, beckoning you to come over to him.

You look questionably at him and raise a brow. “What?” you ask as you slowly scoot your legs over his, dropping down on his hips carefully.

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Not there, sweetheart. Up here,” he smirks as he points to his face. Your eyes go wide at the meaning.

“You want me to…” you trail off, unable to finish your sentence.

“S’right. Want you to sit on my face. C’mon now,” he smirks, a devilish grin taking over his face as his eyes grow dark. He places his hands on your hips as he slides you up his broad chest, stopping just before you get to his neck. You pause right there, blushing as all of a sudden you get extremely nervous.

“Joel…” you choke out, unable to finish your sentence.

“Don’t be shy, baby,” he says gently, lifting your dress above your hips as it exposes your bareness for him. He drags his eyes down your center and licks his lips, his eyes blown out as you feel his breath pick up beneath his chest. “Such a pretty pussy, baby. Drippin’ and screamin’ my name,” he groans as his eyes devour you in full. “C’mon now. Sit on my face,” he demands.

You gulp and scoot your hips up, hovering just above his mouth as you stay there, nervous and turned on at the same time.

“I didn’t say hover, sweetheart. I said sit,” he demands, digging his hands into your hips as he tries to lower you down, but you hold back, afraid to crush him.

“But won’t I crush you?” you ask with your breath caught in your throat.

“The only thing that’s gonna crush me is if you don’t sit the fuck down and ride on my face. Now sit!” he growls as he forces your weight down on top of him, the curls above your mound sitting atop his curved nose as he breathes you in deeply.

He inhales your savoury scent and drags his rough tongue all the way from your dripping hole to the tops of your folds, catching the end of your clit as you whine out with need.

“Goddamn, baby. Taste and smell s’good, darlin’. Hold on tight. Not gonna stop till I make you cum all over my face, not gonna stop till you moan my name, not gonna stop till you’re all mine,” he growls as he hooks his arms around your thighs and dives back in.

He slowly drags his tongue over all of you, slotting himself between your folds and lapping meticulous circles around your puffy clit. You feel more slick spill out of you and feel him take your bundle of nerves into his mouth, sucking and slurping as every single nerve ending comes alive against his mouth. When he releases, he shoves his tongue into your wet hole, plunging into your core as you vibrate and fall apart against him.

You twist your fingers into his tousled curls and moan his name with a lull, lost in complete bliss as he works his tongue up and down up and down, making the room foggy with the smell of your arousal and the loud moans you’re giving him. “Joellll, fuck,” you moan as you pull at his hair, sliding yourself up and down his mouth as you ride his face exactly like he wants you to.

He groans at your movements, groans at the way you tug on his curls as his tongue works and works to make you fall apart around him. He slaps your ass hard and digs his nails into your thighs as he speeds up his hot tongue.

He’s pulling, sucking, munching at your clit as you feel the building orgasm. You feel it start in your spine, sliding down to rest in the pit of your stomach as you’re almost there, feel it about to take flight as your toes curl and your fingers slip deeper into his wild locks. He knows you’re close, knows exactly what he’s doing. He can’t speak, too far gone in pleasuring you with his mouth, too deep with sucking your throbbing bundle of nerves again and again as his nail beds prod into your flesh.

He loves to feel you come apart, loves to taste your arousal drip down his throat, loves to hear you moan and thrive while you’re about to come undone, and loves when you pull his hair and moan his name while he has his way with you.

You grind your pussy against his mouth, feel how soaked you’re getting him, and it just makes you that much closer to spilling yourself all over him. You feel him groan against your folds, hear him practically whisper the words into your ear as he licks and sucks you repeatedly into his drooling mouth.

Atta girl. There ya go.

Say my name, sweetheart.

C’mon. Give it to me. That’s a good fuckin’ girl.

He pulls your throbbing clit into his mouth and sucks hard, setting off every single nerve ending in your body. He sucks nice and slow and you feel yourself fall apart right there on his hot tongue. You roll your hips and feel the heat slide down your body as you clench over nothing and spill yourself all over his mouth, hearing his groan as he laps up all your slick while you fist his hair roughly through your fingers.

You take a minute to let your panting die out and wait for your body to come back down to earth after your intense face riding orgasm. When you slide back to rest on his chest, you see just how drenched and glistening his mouth and beard are from all your slick and cum. And fuck is it hot.

He smiles up at you as he catches his breath, his blown out pupils relaxing into pure brown warmth as he watches you with admiration on his face. It’s probably the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen in your entire life.

“Rode me s’good, baby. Love the taste of you,” he hums, his crows feet crinkling up at the corners of his eyes as you get lost in those pools of warm honey.

“Yeah, well, I have an excellent instructor with an experienced tongue,” you purr, winking down at him with a big smile pulling at the corners of your mouth.

He chuckles and responds, “Always happy to put my tongue to good use. Especially for you.”

You bite your lower lip and grin down at him, completely entranced by him. You’re so lucky, so fucking lucky. The luckiest girl in the world.

You shift off him and start to turn the other way as you move your legs away from his chest. Before you can crawl to the other side of the couch, he grabs your calves and pulls you back toward him. “Now where do you think you’re goin’, sweetheart?” he asks with an edge to his voice.

“Huh? What do you mean?” you ask as his large hands wrap around your ankles, pulling you back up to him as he tangles you around the roots of him, firmly planting you to his chest.

“M’not done with you yet, baby girl. You’re gonna give me another one,” he purrs, his deep voice thundering out of his chest like a bear ready to attack.

“Another one? But I’m… I’m so sensitive and…”

He shuts you up quick. “No, you’re not too sensitive. I know what you can handle, and you’re gonna fuckin’ take it like the good girl I know you are,” he growls as he drags you back up to him, hovering just over the edge of his mouth as you feel his hot breath connect with your wetness that’s already dripping for him again.

Fuck.

He wraps his strong arms around your hips and tugs you down where your folds are connecting with his plush lips, and the feeling is already overwhelming. But you need it, need him. You suck in a breath as he licks a long stripe up the entirety of you and you moan out for more.

“Need you so bad, daddy. Please,” you beg, digging your hands into the thighs of his dark jeans as your nails embed in him.

“I’m gonna give it to ya, sweetheart. Daddy’s gonna lick every inch of that pretty pussy,” he purrs as he licks another stripe up your folds, spreading you out to devour your needy clit.

You groan out and dig into his jeans, needing something to latch onto. When you open your eyes and look down, you see his bulge pressed against the thick fabric of his jeans, begging to be released.

You take your hand and grab around his thickness, working him through the denim of his pants. You hear him groan under your touch and bite your lip at the idea that dances through your mind. You’re going to sixty-nine with him. This is what’s going to send you over the edge.

You carefully unzip his zipper and free his bulging erection, taking him in your hand as you see the precum release from his slit and lap over the edges of his tip, working your hand nice and slow over him to spread the precum over his entirety.

His skin’s soft in your hand as you slide it back and forth over his large length, feeling the thick veins that spider around him that end just underneath the tip of his head. His head is red and swollen and screaming for you to taste him, and you’re happy to oblige.

Just as you meet your lips at his head and slide your tongue across his drenched tip, he shutters underneath you and lifts your hips just enough to speak as you feel the salty precum slide down your throat all hot and bubbly like.

“Fuck, baby. What’re you doin’?” he says with clenched teeth as you squeeze his cock, gliding your hand up and down his shaft as you turn to face him, smirking down at him with a devilish grin forming on your lips.

“What do you mean what am I doing? Isn’t it obvious? We’re sixty-nining,” you purr, licking your lower lip as you watch his pupils blow out into big black pits.

“Sixty-nine, is that right? You’re a dirty girl, kitty cat,” he smirks as he takes his index and middle fingers and pushes them inside you nice and slow, curling his fingers up to hit that spongy soft spot that makes you clench up against him and moan out slowly.

“That’s right, right there. That feel good?” he asks as you bite your lip and nod at him, choking out another moan as he curls his fingers higher, setting a wildlife throughout your entire core.

“Yes, daddy. Feels incredible,” you groan as you rock against his fingers, letting your own hand twist up and down his hard, wet length in your hand. You want to taste him, now.

“Fuckin’ sixty-nine. And with the prettiest girl in the world? Shit, baby. You’ve got me wrapped around your finger like that pretty pink bow in your hair,” he says with a gentle laugh that sounds a little like unbelief in his voice.

You giggle out a laugh as you stare at him as he smiles up at you between your legs. “Got you wrapped around my finger, do I?”

“Mhm, that’s right, sweetheart. All mine,” he says with a crooked grin curling up over his lips, sending your heart into overdrive.

“All yours,” you confirm with a soft smile.

He takes a minute to look at you, warm eyes focused on your face softly. Then his eyes shift into something dark and carnal as he brings you back down to his mouth.

“Well, go on, darlin’. I’ll take care of this needy pussy while you show me how good you can suck my cock,” he smirks, letting his fingers release from you as he wraps his arms around your thighs and pulls you down on him again. You choke out a moan as his tongue presses deep into your folds and up your dripping hole.

You focus back on his hard cock in front of you and go back down, circling his head as you lap up his salty precum and then dive down on him, taking his long length in your mouth as your hand slides up and down him slowly, savouring his taste on your tongue.

You take him as far in your mouth as you can, making sure you hit the back of your throat and choke on him while tears spill down your face as you take him deep in your throat over and over again.

You hear his moans fill the room as his tongue circles your clit, hearing your own moans get washed out by the sound of you gagging on his thick cock as your spit drips down his length and into the coarse hairs that cover his base.

The wet, sticky, messy sounds of Joel eating you out and the gagging sounds of you deep throating his massive cock again and again mix together, forming a wet, harmonious melody that reverberates off each other. It causes more slick to slide down your center as he licks and sucks and pulls on your needy clit. It’s too much, too fucking hot. This is the best, most intimate thing you’ve ever done. But you have a feeling this won’t be the end of it because he’ll want more, you’ll want more. It’s only going to get hotter, more primal, more possessive as you continue.

Joel Miller may be a fucking menace, but you’re no better. You’re a temptress spinning your web as you trap him, seducing him to you, pulling him and making him yours. Both of you wrapping each other into a complete tangle until both of you are completely, irrevocably bound to one another. Just like a moth to a flame, you’re pulled to him as he is to you. Two hearts beating wildly for the other just the same.

The room is hot and sticky as both of you get lost in each other’s ecstasy. Moans echoing off the walls as you both are close to orgasm, both so fucking high off each other that you never want to come down. You just want to stay where your bodies are panting in sweat as you continuously get lost in each other’s bliss and euphoria. You’ve never experienced a high quite like this before. Never experienced anything ever like this. It’s just you and Joel, two bodies completely consumed in the other with no plans of ever slipping away from each other. It’s just Joel.

Joel, Joel, Joel.

You start to clench up, feel your walls fluttering as they’re about to spill, feel the way he sucks your clit into his giving mouth as his tongue travels up the entirety of you, covering you in his own spit and drool. And it’s so fucking hot.

“C’mon, baby girl. Give it to me. Cum for me. Wanna feel it,” he groans as he pulls your clit into his mouth and sucks hard. And that’s when you come apart for him, that’s when you feel yourself let go.

You release your lips from his cock and feel a string of drool fall from your lips and attach to the tip of his head, thinking of nothing as you throw back your head back and moan his name as it echoes across the room. “Joellllll, fuck,” you moan as you release white hot liquid all over his mouth. He’s greedy and takes it all, licking you clean as you hear his mouth drink you up, leaving nothing behind.

You rub up and down his cock faster, feeling him stiffen underneath you as his breath goes shallow. Ragged moans leave his chest as he grips your thighs tight and moans out your name slowly.

“Oh fuck, oh shit,” he slurs as you lap at his tip, teasing him before you take him again.

“That’s it, daddy. Go on and cum for me. Wanna take you all in my mouth,” you purr as you wrap your mouth around him again, bobbing up and down as you deep throat him, hearing the gagging noises that send him over the edge. He’s right there, just on the edge. You go down again and hold your mouth there as you take him deep, feeling your throat constrict around his thick cock.

“Baby, m’gonna… gonna cum… oh, fuck,” he moans as you feel thick ropes of cum hit the back of your throat, swallowing his large load down as the salty, delicious taste dances down your tastebuds.

You work over his length nice and slow, not stopping till he’s finished cumming. And just when you think he’s done, he surprises you and pours out more inside your mouth.

You see his hand shoot to his sweaty forehead as he grabs at his messy curls, see his eyes roll back as he moans your name again and again. It sounds like music to your ears, something angelic and addictive sinking into your soul at just the sound of him cumming. It’s your sanctuary, your favorite tune in the world. And you’d never get enough of it, never.

When he’s finished sending his spend down your throat, you slowly release your mouth from him as drool cakes your chin. His cock is so messy with spit and drool that you blush at the job you just did on him.

You feel his chest heave up and down underneath you, his breathing gradually slowing down little by little. You take a second to catch your own breath, gulping down breaths of fresh air that smells like him. There’s something beautiful in the rhythm of both of your breaths in sync. It’s almost like you share the same heartbeat, something so intimate about it that you can’t even shake the euphoric feeling. It’s the best thing you’ve ever experienced. He’s the best thing. Joel is.

After a few minutes he helps you sit up as he pulls his briefs and jeans back up over his softening cock. When he sits up, he grabs your lace panties from the floor and pulls them up over your legs, securing them back into place over your overstimulated pussy. He pulls down your dress over your thighs and lays back down against the couch, bringing you down with him.

You sink into his side and wrap an arm around his chest as he cradles you in his arms gently. He takes his hand and runs it up and down your arm, leaving goosebumps over every square inch of skin he marks as his own. And this feels right, all of this feels right. He feels right.

He presses a kiss against your forehead and showers you with the perfect aftercare cuddles. He’s so good, the absolute best at aftercare. It’s always been your favorite ever since the first time he did it with you in this very living room that you sit in now. Joel Miller might be dominant in the bedroom, but he’s a big softie underneath it all. He’s the perfect combination of rough around the edges and pure honey everywhere else.

“Did s’good for me, sweetheart. Always do s’good for me,” he purrs as he places another gentle kiss over your forehead. “My perfect girl,” he whispers, and you can’t help but smile at the words. My perfect girl.

“Mhm, your perfect girl,” you whisper back as you snuggle into him more, sinking into his chest as his soft t-shirt scrapes along your jawline.

“I like the sound of that,” he laughs, his raspy chuckle that sounds like a symphony of guitars in your ear.

“Me too,” you whisper back.

As the movie comes to an end, Joel grabs the controller and puts on Halloween as you hear the theme song play from the speakers. He relaxes his arm back down around you and pulls you closer to where your cheek is nestled in the crook of his neck as he takes his other hand and runs his fingers through your waves. And this might be your favorite thing ever. Being in his arms. You never want him to let go. Never ever.

You feel yourself start to slip into unconsciousness, feel yourself relax into him as the darkness pulls you under. You don’t know when, you don’t know how, but after a few minutes of cuddling you and Joel fall asleep, wrapped in each other’s warmth as sleep takes you down fast.

And then something happens, something unexpected and unwelcome.

After what seems like hours of sleep, you’re woken up to the harsh lights of the living room being turned on. You jolt awake and sit up, blinking a few times to get your eyes situated to the fluorescent lights above. Joel rubs his eyes and follows your lead, adjusting to being woken up from a deep sleep. Your jaw drops when you see who’s standing in the corner of the room. Sarah.

Oh, fuck.

“I knew it, I knew!” she jumps up and down as her long curls bounce up and down along with her, a big smile spread across her face as she can’t seem to keep her excitement down.

“Shit,” Joel mutters under his breath as your eyes go wide in panic. You try to speak but you can’t. You’re frozen, not knowing what to do or say. You’ve been caught red handed.

“I knew it all along! This is so exciting! You and dad? Oh my God, I’m a genius,” she squeals as she jumps again.

“Sarah! Calm down,” Joel warns as his eyes narrow slightly. Sarah stops jumping but continues beaming at the both of you. You feel like your heart is about to come out of your throat. Your dad. What if she tells your dad?

“Sarah, you’re not gonna tell my parents are you? They’d kill me,” you rush out with your breathing uncontrolled. It feels like you're about to throw up with the knot that’s in your stomach. Joel notices your panic immediately and does what he can to calm you down.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” he urges as he cups your chin and turns you toward him, his deep brown eyes almost calming you down. Almost. “She’s not gonna tell them. Right, Sarah?” he asks as he turns to her, giving her that knowing look.

She imitates her lips being a zipper and acts like she zips them tight. “My lips are sealed. Promise,” she nods as she looks back and forth between the two of you, your anxiety slowly calming down at the confirmation.

“See? She won’t say a word. It’s gonna be okay, darlin’,” he confirms as he soothes you over, one hand rubbing your thigh to calm you down. You nod in acceptance.

Sarah calls your name and you look up. “I’ve noticed the way dad’s looked at you for a while now. Been wondering when he was going to make a move,” she laughs, shaking her head. “He’s liked you for a long time, even if he never told me. I could see it in his eyes.”

You just look over at Joel and smile at him. “Yeah, I’ve liked him for a long time, too,” you say quietly. Joel meets your eyes and smiles at you, the corners of his lips curling up to form those perfect dimples again.

“This is so cute, I think I’m gonna throw up,” she says as she claps her hands together.

“Alright, alright. Go on up and go to bed, it’s past your bedtime,” he says as he points at the clock that says five past midnight.

“Okay,” she groans. “Night, love birds,” she sings as she leaves the room and heads up the stairs.

“You sure she won’t say anything?” you ask nervously, anxiety still swirling through your gut.

“If there’s one thing she’s good at, it’s keeping secrets. So, think we’re safe,” he confirms as you blow out a breath you had been holding.

“That’s a relief. I guess she was bound to find out at some point, right?”

“Yeah, guess you’re right,” he says as he nods his head. His calloused thumb shifts against your jawline and he leans in and presses his lips against yours. You lean into him and get lost in his scent, in his abundance of warmth. When you hear the creak of the stairs, you pull apart from his lips fast.

Joel leans over the couch annoyed and peeks up at the stairs. “Sarah?” he asks in a deep voice, warning her to stop spying.

“Uhh, yeah?” she asks nervously.

“Bed. Now,” he growls. She obeys and runs up the stairs, not wasting a second of time. He sighs in annoyance. “She’s never gonna let me live this down,” he groans.

“Hey,” you say as you grab his hand and entangle your fingers in his. “I’ll be right there with you through it.”

He rasps out a chuckle and looks you in the eyes, calm brown eyes returning to look at you. “You want me to take you home? I can drop your car off tomorrow.”

You shake your head no. “Can I stay here tonight? Don’t really want to go home. I’d rather stay with you.”

“‘Course, sweetheart. You always have a place here.” He pushes a curl behind your ear and pulls you back in, planting his lips against yours as a warm wave of peace and serenity cloud your mind.

“C’mon. Let’s get you up to bed.” He pulls you up and picks you up bridal style as you squeal out and wrap your arms around his neck. You kiss his cheek and tuck your head against the crook of his neck as he carries you up the stairs. And somehow you know it’ll be okay. Things will turn out okay because you’re with Joel.

So when he pulls you tight against him under the sheets and you're wrapped in his t-shirt with his arms around you, you know you’re in good hands. Nothing can ruin what you and Joel have. Not even your dad. Joel has your whole heart and nothing can change that now.

Tags: @amyispxnk @janaispunk @blueseastorm @joelmillersblog @joelalorian @heartstoptrying @littlevenicebitch69 @getitoutofmymindwrites @akah565 @keylimebeag @dugiioh @laurrrra @untamedheart81 @roostersforevergirl @itsokbbygrl @pedrostories

Part 4

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tashism · 1 month ago

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professor!art this, professor!art that I WANT TO TALK ABOUT PROFESSOR!TASHI

her thin glasses and tall, imposing figure stalking around the the front of the room and in between rows as she lectures everyone about women’s history, or biology, or climate change… you don’t remember what class this is. all you know is that you show up at 8:30 on the dot every tuesday morning to watch her slink around in pencil skirts or pantsuits, her voice as smooth as whiskey. you’ve never had whiskey, but y’know. educated guess. you never know what she’s saying until her damn claws are dragging over your desk as she walks past you, the slightest hint of a glossed grin on her face.

she makes you feel like prey.

staying after class just to talk. asking about her weekend, if she ever found that lotion she was talking about a few minutes before the lecture started last week. you could never remember which historian said what or how wrong they were, but you could remember that her hands get dry during the winter. you also remember her saying that her favorite classic is east of eden and her birthday is in september. all your staring and sweet words surprisingly worked on her — most of the time, at least. she was only really strict about one thing: due dates. that’s why you never missed a single one. you’re so desperate to make her proud, it’s so pathetic.

that’s why when you missed the due date of your heftiest essay to date by three minutes, your first instinct was just to beg. “please, miss- doctor duncan. please, please you don’t understand-”. she stayed silent the entire 7 minutes you rambled about how and why it was late, why you’re deserving of a make up or extension or at least 50% credit. god, she thought you were too cute. your done up hair, your skirts, your stupid messenger bag — she wants to ruin you. she crossed her long legs and turned in her creaking chair, arms folded over her chest in a blouse that had to be against school policy for teachers. “i could let you write a new one” she shrugs, looking around her desk before peering at the little window on the door to make sure no one was around. “but i think you need to work a little harder than that”

before you know it you’re under her desk, head buried between her soft legs, eyes rolling back like it feels better for you than it does for her. and honestly? it just might. but that’s okay with her; she’s here to teach you, isn’t she? “just a little faster, baby. n’ don’t be afraid to use your hands, okay?”. her manicured nails sink into your scalp as she pushes you further into her aching cunt, her head falling back into her chair with a soft sigh. as far as your concerned, this is as close as to heaven as you’ll ever get. you’re starting to think this is all that matters, that making her feel good might be your only purpose.

from how good it’s starting to feel, tashi might just agree.

#read one tashi fic and suddenly my writers block is gone #challengers #tashi duncan #professor!tashi #evaspeaks

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wileys-russo · 1 year ago

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Alessia, “Keep talking, your voice helps me sleep.” ❣️

keep talking II a.russo

"i'm headed to bed baby." alessia felt your arms wrap around her neck as she blinked a few times, the back of her eyes aching from staring at her monitor for so long as the blonde exhaled and leaned back into you.

" i'll be five minutes? i just need to submit this and i'm done for the whole weekend." your girlfriend promised as you nodded in understanding, pecking her cheek and withdrawing your arms from around her neck.

alessia sighed again as she rubbed her eyes tiredly, having stared at this essay for so long now it was seeming more like gibberish than english.

when she signed up for this course she knew it would be a tremendous amount of extra work but she was ready for it, she'd already mapped out a schedule of hours dedicated to her studies among her other commitments before she'd even finished her enrollment.

but what she hadn't been able to properly prepare for was how exhausting that extra work would feel.

alessia knew all too well that without you she'd have already dropped out and long given up on trying to balance everything, dangerously close to toppling over the edge.

but then there was you, her lifeline, the one who steered her away from the ledge without even trying even sometimes just with something as simple as a smile.

you who picked up all of the slack, who got up early and did all of her washing to ensure that she had clean uniforms, had dinner ready and on the table when she got home late.

you who had fresh flowers on the counter every weekend, who would go out to do the shopping and always come home with some sort of sweet treat to perk up alessia's spirits when she'd spent the day locked up studying.

you, her person.

finally clicking submit alessia groaned quietly with relief, snapping her laptop shut as her monitor went black and the room darkened, only illuminated by the lamp on her left which she reached over and flicked off.

"jesus." the blonde mumbled as she stood and a sharp twinge of pain shot through her neck and back. "stupid shitty chair." she huffed, kicking it with a glare and stretching out.

"hi gorgeous." you smiled at your girlfriend as she finally appeared, closing the bedroom door behind her with a sigh. "all submitted?" you questioned as she gave you a tired nod, slipping into bed as you marked your page in your book and put it aside.

"i'll turn the lights off then shall i babe?" you teased as your girlfriend patted your leg, eyes already closed. with a smile you rolled out of bed, flicking off the lights and returning, alessia immediately latching onto you.

"how was your day? tell me about it." the blonde asked softly, head resting on your chest as her long legs tangled with your own, one hand slipped up the inside of your shirt needing to feel as much of her skin against yours as she could.

so you did, recounting fondly the day you'd spent away from her and with some school friends, dragged around shopping for your best friends wedding dress, even though she was yet to be proposed to.

"she's always been one to go for what she wants." alessia chuckled, eyes closed and voice nothing above a soft rasp as you tangled a hand in her hair.

"you're exhausted my love, time for sleep." you smiled fondly, scratching gently at her scalp with your nails as she exhaled deeply into your neck.

"keep talking, your voice helps me sleep." your girlfriend requested tiredly, hand moving up and down your side as you melted. "do you want me to talk about space?" you smiled in amusement, the blonde always teasing that you were far too invested in the topic and that she'd gladly send you off to live in mars.

"yeah, that works." alessia agreed with a nod as you kissed her forehead. "because its so boring it'll send you to sleep?" you joked, met with silence which was enough of an answer. "less its not boring!" you protested quietly, feeling her smile against your chest as you jostled her a little and she whined.

"sure baby, talking about moon rocks is super interesting."

#woso x reader #woso #woso fanfics #alessia russo x reader #engwnt #alessia russo #woso blurbs #woso community #woso imagine

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killthewhisperingart · 10 months ago

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Meet Me After Class

Pairing: Gym Teacher!Dean Winchester x History Teacher!Reader

Word Count: 790

Summary: Of course he's decided to bother you while you're grading papers.

Warning(s): Smut. Smut. Sex.

A/N: One of my friends challenged me to do this, so I finished this in one night. :3

I am an 18+ Blog.

You groan softly as you shake your head, marking another answer wrong on a students paper. You didn't understand, you had pushed the test back by a week to better help your students prepare, yet they didn't utilize any of the extra time correctly. You know for a fact that this student probably didn't know what class this was.

You knew once you passed these exams back, and your students saw their grades, you'd be their worst enemy.

You rub your hand down your face, popping your wrists before stretching backwards. Your back pops in a few places before you melt, dropping your arms and preparing yourself to get back to grading. A glance to the clock on the wall tells you that you've been in your classroom for an hour and a half since the final bell rang.

A knock at your classroom door startles you, a stray mark now on the essay question in bright red ink. You scoff, capping the pen before pushing out your chair, walking towards the door, your lanyard jingling with every movement.

Dean smiles, holding a bag of takeout. You look at it, before slowly dragging your gaze to his face, your hand on the door still.

"What's this?" You ask, your brows furrowed.

"Food." He says simply, stepping into the classroom. He's no longer in his usual Gym attire, having changed into his usual jeans and T-shirt, though the whistle still lingers around his neck. You think he probably went home, got food, and came back to work. "You know Food, right? You eat it." He teases.

You can't hold back your groan, rolling your eyes before going to your desk. He pushes the door closed behind him as he enters the room, jiggling the handle to confirm it's locked. You crash into your chair, and it rolls backwards. You take your lanyard off, tossing it onto the desk as you pick your legs up to set your feet on your desk, careful to not step on the papers.

"Thought we weren't supposed to put our feet on the furniture?" He taps your foot as he sits on your desk.

"We're not supposed to put our asses on tables either, but I'm not getting onto you about it right now." You snap halfheartedly, hand out as he puts a burger wrapped in tin foil onto your palm. Still warm.

He wastes no time in devouring his own burger, grease running down his fingers, no regard for the sauce on the corner of his mouth. You scoff out a chuckle, opening your own meal.

You both eat in silence, well, at least you do. He can't seem to stop himself from making obscene noises for his burger.

"You're always working," He finally comments, tossing the wrapper in the trash, wiping his face.

"Well, I actually have to *work* at my job, so." You grin sarcastically, tossing your trash at his face. He takes it in stride, catching it and tossing it into the trash.

"I work!" He defends himself.

"No you don't!" You guffaw. "You get paid to make students stay in shape, but you don't do the same."

"I work out regularly!" He points out. "My stamina is amazing."

"As if."

The desk is hard against your chest, your hands gripping the sides hard. The wood furniture scrapes against the floor harshly with every rough thrust from behind you. His jeans rub the skin on the back of your thighs as he fucks into you.

"What was that?" He asks, a cocky grin on his face as he positions his head next to yours. "What'd you say about my stamina?"

"Shut up-" You choke out, whining as you scrape your nails against the wood.

"I can't hear you." He teases, biting your ear lobe, tugging roughly. You almost squeal, but you clamp a hand over your mouth, knowing you couldn't possibly be the only two people left in the school.

He's so damn talkative, never knowing how to shut the fuck up and just fuck you.

You push yourself up, turning your torso to grab the whistle around his neck. His eyes widen as you jerk it forward to connect your lips to his. He eagerly returns your kiss, kissing you just as sloppily as he eats his food.

His thrusts turn sloppy, his chest stuttering with every shaky breath. His saliva drools into your open mouth, and eagerly you swallow.

His grip tightens on your hips, body shuddering one last time with three final deep thrusts. He stays seated within you, collecting himself, the whistle jingling as you let go.

"Fuck-" You mutter, kissing him one last time. "Maybe your stamina is fine."

"Just fine?"

"We'll have to test this again."

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #x reader #x reader smut #reader insert smut #reader insert #gender neutral reader #supernatural x reader #spn x reader #teacher au #gym teacher dean winchester #dean winchester au #supernatural au #x reader au #smut

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writingwithfolklore · 2 months ago

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Happy New Year 2025!

In 2024 I finished my manuscript of the last 7-ish years, was published in several places, helped you guys edit your pieces, wrote and posted more og posts than last year, and made some good friends on here! I hope you all had a good 2024, and are looking forward to what's to come in 2025 <3

Here's a recap of the WWF posts of 2024, see you next year!

Your Readers Don't Know

Backstory is Revealed When You Need It, Not Before

Your Hook

Fortunately, Unfortunately

Your Prologue is for Stuff You Can't Put in the Book

All New Information Belongs in the First Three Chapters

Describing Foods - A Masterlist

How To Nail Your School Essays

A Note for New Writers

It's Okay Your Writing Isn't Like So-and-So's

Specificity, Voice and Backstory

10 Tips for New Writers

Pop Culture References in Fiction

Creating Paragraphs

3 Important Things about Trad Publishing

Taking Notes from Editors

When to Reject Feedback

5 Tips for Creating Intimidating Antagonists

When Your Antagonist is Not a Person

When Your Antagonist is Also Your Protagonist

Failing with Momentum

Kill Your Darlings

When to Cut a Character

Do Well By Your Female Characters

Character Agency

Writing Fictional News

How to Hold Yourself Accountable as a Professional Author

Making the Most Out of Your First Draft

Tips for Moving Out for the First Time

Sequels and Series

5 Things About Working in a (small) Publishing House that Surprised Me

5 Ways to Set Yourself Up for Success as an Aspiring Author

How Conflict Causes Character Change

Character Deaths

Monsters and Creatures

Ways to Reveal Backstory

Show Don't Tell: Symptoms Versus the Affliction

Descriptions: Seeing Versus Feeling

Momentum

Writing With Folklore Discord

You Don't Need Thick Skin to be a Writer

6 Ways to Develop Your Writing Intuition

Writing Prompt: Stress

The Yadda-Yadda

Description is for the Character, Not the Reader

The Characters Serve the Reader

Relationships and Closeness

The Rest of the World Continues on Without your MC

Writing Prompt

20 Questions to Ask your Beta Readers

3 Most Common Notes I Give While Editing

How to Translate Feedback

How to Incorporate a Ticking Clock

Every Line Adds Something New

Subplots are your Side Character Arcs

The Exposition Dump is a Myth

Questions from Beta Readers are Rhetorical

If It Doesn't Impact the Rest of the Story, You Didn't Raise the Stakes

Line Transitions

Why Don't Edit As You Go Is Actually Maybe Good Advice

About My Manuscript

There's Only One Reason I Didn't Give Up on My Manuscript

Your Beta Readers are Always Right

How to Get the Most out of (professional) Editing

How to Ask for Stuff

Who Holds the Power in Your Scene?

Getting Characters from A to B

Emotional Exhaustion

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dead3ve · 10 months ago

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Steven Meeks x fem!reader

Summary: Steven Meeks and some other Welton academics are present at a competition they have been winning for 5 years. Welton lost the History prize to another private school, housing young women, breaking Welton's winning streak. One of the women makes Meeks lose all concentration, causing Welton also lose the Mathematics award as well.

Warnings: reader uses they/them pronouns, referred to as a female, girl, women. Meeks is pining. No use of y/n.

The hall was loud. Meeks was sweating. The noise wasn't helping him solve difficult equations. With time running out he was growing nervous. Restless. He was the math genius at Welton, and he was struggling to even think. Gerard Pitts and Richard Cameron were doing more than he was.

The hall, where the competition was taking place, was asked to quieten down. A man who was round and grey-haired was talking into a microphone. He announced "The Excellence in Historical Writing award goes to the Ladies' College. We ask for two student representatives to approach the front to receive their award."

The hall erupted into applause. The Ladies' College table began to holler and cheer for their friends who stood. One of the two who stood wore the dull, navy-blue uniform of a lengthy skirt and boxy button up shirt with a heavy blazer and made Meeks turn as red as his hair. Their joy and confidence that radiated off of them made Steven feel the same way. Once they were at the stage holding the award and smiling for a photo, Meeks smiled too. The hall was quiet at that point. Quiet enough for Meeks to hear a faraway "Thank you." from the awarded girl and snickering from Pitts who was sat next to him.

Meeks stomped on his foot under the table.

Cameron was sick of his teammates being distracted by things as simple as girls. "If you're so interested in her, go and say something. You're not doing anything here, Meeks." Cameron was frustrated, talking through his gritted teeth.

"Yeah, Meeks. I'll go with you. They're at the food table with their friend." Pitts offered, attempting to sooth Cameron's insult.

Steven weighed the options out in his head. He could nail the exam, which he wasn't sure he could do because of the distracting beauty of the History girl. Or he could attempt to meet the girl, and maybe, with some charm win her over. Both, to Steven Meeks were very poor options at the time, but he decided the latter had slightly better odds with Pitts by his side.

Pitts and Meeks stood up from their table and approached the food tables where the girls prepared slices of cakes and tea for their table. Pitts went to make a cup of tea, putting him in place for a conversation.

"How is your team looking for math?" Pitts asks the girls' friend as he stirs sugar into his tea.

The girl Meeks failed to acknowledge began to talk animatedly to Pitts about the poor questions chosen for the examination. Pitts became too engaged in conversation to help Meeks, leaving the red head to stand awkwardly in front of the girl who drew his interest initially. Meeks couldn't bring himself to say anything. Maybe it was nerves. Maybe her presence was so important and radiant that it shouldn't be ignored with talk.

"You're here for math?" A quiet question left the girl's mouth. They also held a cup of tea, and they took a sip after asking the question.

"Yeah, yes." Meeks fumbled his answer. Wringing his hands tightly as he spoke. "Did you do the History essay?"

They smiled at that. They blushed and looked at the wooden floors beneath them. "Yes, I did." They looked back up at Meeks with excited eyes, "Sad I took the Welton crown?"

Meeks smiled at that. They were playful. Steven let out a small laugh of relief. "No not at all. Suits you more than us." Meeks looked at the girl, cautious of their reaction, hoping he hadn't put his foot into his mouth like he so often did.

They smiled, blushed then took a step closer to Meeks. "What's your name? I'd also like to know if you're bribing the math win from us, considering you are charming me." They spoke, knowing their words, confidently.

Meeks blushed, turning red again. He began to laugh at their statement. "It's Steven Meeks and this isn't a bribe. My friends saw me looking at you and made me leave the table because I was slowing them down. You were a pretty distraction." Meeks couldn't believe what he was saying. He was not one to do this.

Suddenly, the girl pushed her arm towards Meeks, with a pen extended in their other hand. "Can I have your phone number, Steven? The school one or your family's one. Do you board at Welton?" All of these fretful questions were asked as Meeks quickly wrote the school's phone number down onto their skin in a hurry to calm them. He gently let go of their arm and held the pen back at them.

"I board at Welton, but we leave the campus on weekends. Maybe you'd want to join me one weekend?" Meeks was asking a girl out on a date. He was red in the face and still sweating. It was no longer loud in the hall though because all Meeks could hear was their acceptance to the proposed date.

Cameron suddenly turned Meeks with a firm hand gripping his shoulder. "What are you doing Meeks? We just lost the Math prize. Dr Hager is going to kill us." Cameron was angry at Pitts but more so Steven. He began to drag Meeks away from the two girls by the collar of his blazer. Cameron couldn't handle more homework. Meeks could, if he got to see a pretty girl because of it.

#steven meeks #steven meeks x reader #dead poets society #dead poets society x reader #dead poets #dead poets fanfic #dps #fem!reader

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athenagc94 · 30 days ago

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Dear Daddy Long Legs - Chapter 3

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Shorter chapter, however, I am also posting this on AO3 now as well. You can find it here.

TW: Mentions of death

First | Prev | Next

Chapter 3

The Board of Foundation at Wayne Enterprises is pleased to inform you that you have been awarded the ‘Jason Todd Memorial’ scholarship that provides full tuition for four years at Gotham University.

You stared at the acceptance letter, hands trembling as you tried to process the news. There was never a question as to whether you could get into Gotham University. You took the tests, wrote the essays, and nailed the interviews. They loved you, but not enough to waive the egregious tuition to attend their school.

You thumbed the paper. It was nice, hefty and stamped with black ink that displayed the Wayne Enterprises letterhead. You flipped it over to hold it against the sickly yellow light in your living room like a cashier would do with a counterfeit bill. This was too good to be true, but some small part of you wanted it to be real.

This scholarship hadn’t been listed when you applied, but it was possible they didn’t advertise it to the public.

The Jason Todd Memorial Foundation...

Who was Jason Todd?

You opened your phone to do a quick search. Jason Todd, once a young boy living in Park Row, was adopted by Bruce Wayne. He had nothing, until he suddenly found himself under the care of one of the richest men in Gotham. It would have been a touching story about the American Dream and how opportunities come to good people but given that the scholarship came from a memorial foundation, you assumed it didn’t have a happy ending.

You returned to the search to do some more digging. And… there it was.

The headline of the next article read: Wayne Son Killed in Terrorist Attack Abroad. Two years after he was adopted. “Shit,” you breathed as you swiped out of the article before you made yourself too sad. A beloved son killed too soon. A scholarship in his honor. It seemed legit, but you were still skeptical. Why wouldn’t they list it on their website? You turned your attention back to the letter.

By accepting this scholarship, you will agree to send written letters regarding your studies on a bi-weekly basis to Bruce Wayne, founder and owner of Wayne Enterprises, so that he may monitor your progress. Failure to comply will result in…

You chewed the inside of your cheek. That was a lot to process. It was hard to believe that the Bruce Wayne gave a shit about my education. He had better things to do like whoring around galas or adopting poor kids off the street… apparently. Someone had to be fucking with you, and you didn’t appreciate it.

The letter had a number to contact their offices at the bottom, so you did just that. Your phone rang twice before it flipped to an automated message.

“Hello and thank you for calling the Wayne Enterprises Foundation office. We’re happy to answer any question you might have regarding your scholarship or any donations you might be—”

You hung up before the cheery voice could finish, heart thundering against your ribcage. So, they used the real extension for the office. That didn’t mean anything. Anyone could have knabbed it. If you had stayed on the line a little longer, someone could have confirmed what you already suspected.

And yet, you hung up.

Because you didn’t want it to be confirmed. You wanted to sit with the delusion a while longer before reality came crashing back down.

You glanced back at your bookshelf where a small collection of second-hand novels filled the shelves. Among them was a well-worn copy of Daddy Long Legs, its green hard-bound cover fraying at the edges. You had read it so many times that the spine nearly split in two.

A rich philanthropist funding a poor girl’s education… The irony wrote itself, but it failed to sweeten the bitter taste in your mouth.

You read the letter once more, hoping to glean something more from its contents, but you had exhausted its usefulness. Wayne wanted you to write letters. They even included an address to send them to. Emails would have been easier. Or a paper at the end of each semester. Or…

God, help you.

Trying to find logic in a rich person’s motives was exhausting.

The longer you sat with the letter, the easier it was to stomach. Rich people were weird. They made odd choices all the time. You could handle a few letters over the next four years. Besides, there was a stark difference between you and Jerusha Abbott. She fell in love with her benefactor. You would not.

You laughed at the prospect. No—you would never fall in love with a man like Bruce Wayne. While he was never rude to you or your coworkers, you suspected it was an act. Masks weren’t just for the vigilantes. They could be honed of flesh. Wayne had crafted a near-perfect representation of what society expected of him.

He fooled the masses, but you noticed things others liked to ignore. It was the only way someone survived in this city. You were wary of him, of his generosity and this situation as a whole, but desperation snagged on your resolve.

An opportunity presented itself. If you turned it down, who knows when the next opportunity would present itself.

With Bruce Wayne funding your education, there was no allure, no mystery, no chance you'd ever fall in love with him. This was a business exchange, nothing more. You could live with that, even if accepting his money made your skin crawl.

You redialed the number for the foundations office and followed the instructions until a more human voice greeted you. “Hello, thank you for calling the Wayne Enterprises Foundation, this is Rudy. How can I help you?”

“Hello, I just received a letter about my receipt of the Jason Todd Memorial Foundation. I was wondering what my next steps were?”

#writing #batman #jason todd #jason todd x reader #batfam #dear daddy long legs fic #red hood x reader #red hood #bruce wayne

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lintwriting · 9 months ago

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How to Write Intelligent Characters (Like Wei Wuxian!)

Wei Wuxian has a really bad memory, but he is also smart enough to realize this and then use it to insult people as a joke—WITH plausible deniability to shield him from any potential consequences.

This interplay between extreme intelligence, comical brain farts, and layered social interaction is what makes MDZS so fun to read because it creates a real complexity to both him and his environment. There are multiple layers going on in this scene, with in-jokes and social factions and miscommunications, as there is in reality. And it’s a tangible demonstration of his intelligence, that he’s able to think of this deception in the first place and so casually.

But also it make the story less monotonous by having this complexity. 3 layers.

There the first layer.

“Extremely intelligent character” Like gadget inventor characters or nerdy hackers. Their hyper intelligence is useful for plot reasons, and highly competent characters are likable. And this is not bad for a side character.

It can go too far, however, such as in the case with BBC Sherlock, when the author makes the character so hyper intelligent he becomes an unbelievable god character and wraps back around to being dislikable again. Like the author’s personal pet character who can do no wrong with the excuse of his intelligence allowing him to do anything, leading to extreme annoyance whenever he’s on screen, which is all the time bc he the main character (is that just me?) lol

Then there’s the second layer to break up the monotony of intelligence.

Wei Wuxian has shit memory. Like laughably shit memory. Much like how video games create perks that also give you cons in specific ways to make your decision to use it more satisfyingly personal, like choosing to wear shitty armor that looks pretty because you value style over function, Wei Wuxian’s extreme intelligence is often undercut by scenes of extreme brain farts.

Whether it be an almost painful level of obliviousness or an extreme failed memory check, Wei Wuxian gains a flaw that not only makes him human and therefore relatable, but also unique in the pantheon of genius characters out there because he’s a genius in THIS SPECIFIC NICHE (trademarked).

This nuance/uniqueness/realness, thus, will allow his character to say more about the real world than mr god intelligence BBC Sherlock.

For the most obvious one, he’s a persuasive essay on why intelligence is not predicated on good memory, which maps well onto his larger character trait of being a intelligent slacker in school (of which the number one complaint is that it is immaterial to actual learning and only really tests memory).

What does BBC Sherlock say, beyond the idea that a god has no need for human rules? That IS a message, but a hypothetical one, as most people will never get to that level of comical intelligence for it to be relevant. Well, I guess assholes (who are less smart than they think) use characters like him as excuses to be dicks, so there's that, but I think that's proof of how legitimately unrealistic he is. He's the power fantasy of teen boys and maladjusted adults, like Rick Rick and Morty.

The third layer is him remembering that he has shit memory and using it to his advantage.

THIS is the part that gets to me THE MOST about his character and arguably the part where MXTX proved (to me) that she’s a better writer than BBC Sherlock writing staff, especially when it come to OP or intelligent characters.

There’s an ELEVATION that happens on this third layer. This is where your character goes from a smart character to a smart person to an ABSOLUTE GOAT. This is the hype that the BBC Sherlock crew wanted when doing a smart god character but absolutely failed to nail deadass, Jesus-style.

Cheatcodes to Writing Intelligence

For one, it’s putting her money where her mouth is. BBC Sherlock creates hyper intelligence by bending the plot to Sherlock's will, like one of those Twitter fake "oracle" accounts that make predictions and then retroactively delete the wrong ones to make them look psychic.

It's not true prediction, and neither is Sherlock solving a mystery unsolvable to the audience because the writer can cheat and handwave his logic — THE VERY THING BEING SHOWCASED — by just showing Sherlock being right all the time about random things we couldn't know ourselves.

(And in Sherlock, this is mostly downplayed because the mystery is less important than the character drama (send prayers for Johnlock), but it goes from a subversion to a Game Of Thrones subversion (derogatory) when the show starts failing at the character drama too, making his stupid caricature of intelligence insulting instead of an interesting exploration of a hypothetical god trying to grow up human, Jesus-style.)

Wei Wuxian also has this hand-wave-y aspect to his intelligence. We're told and shown he's a genius inventor through the cheat code of the world's magic system. Magic without rules is famously hard to write well because any story's conflict can be solved with "well a wizard came and saved the day through GOD-like abilities" if the author is too lazy to write a satisfying conclusion.

Wei Wuxian is the inventor of Necromancy, and while yes this is sort of explained through a scene where he's arguing against the establishment to his cultivation teacher, the logic of it is very simple. "What if we reversed energy? (simplification of what he actually said)," the reality of his genius invention of necromancy is just that it's the author saying "well Wei Wuxian did it through his GOD-LIKE intelligence."

What we really get out of this is that his COUNTERCULTURAL HERESY (Galileo-Style) is revolutionary. Not so much his logic being revolutionary when the concept is THIS simple (haha reverse evil suppressing wards to get an evil attracting ward go brrr). But the story handwaves this away with just making other characters utter trash at necromancy, cheating at making him seem like a genius in comparison (simplified for scope, there's more to this).

IF that were all there was to him, he'd only be a 2 layer AT MOST. Instead, we have this third layer, where he directly reacts to information the reader has received in witty ways. (This also makes him self reacting, which is what makes us human)

The Structure of Setting Up Intelligence

Part of what makes mysteries so satisfying is that the reader is rewarded for paying attention/engagement. If they notice a clue that becomes a part of the detective's explanation later on, it's like a puzzle falling into place, where you feel like a special big boy for noticing. And if the detective manages to solve it where you didn't despite having all these clues, YOU become the dumb shitty necromancer jobber who makes Wei Wuxian look good in comparison. Metaphorically.

Similarly, we have all the clues. Wei Wuxian is smart and resourceful. Wei Wuxian forgets a lot of things. Wei Wuxian gets told he's forgotten a lot of things. What's the next logical step? Wei Wuxian smartly uses his forgetfulness as a resource!

2. At the beginning of the book, he accidentally snubs a side character by responding "I don't even know who you are" (simplified for scope's sake). At the time, he genuinely is fumbling here, messing up his social standing because of an actual brain fart, but in a way that's hilarious and better-than-you, so we think nothing of it... until he learns from this mistake right in front of our eyes!

Because later on, he REPEATS this line to the SAME character to legitimately snub them when they were making accusations of him personally attacking them. Not only is this an infuriating snub done on purpose this time, but it's a lie—Wei Wuxian remembered this asshole after the many many dumb dramas with them.

3. But it's a useful lie because it demonstrates a truth—WEI WUXIAN DIDN'T ATTACK THEM. Wei Wuxian would have motive to attack them hypothetically (read: dumb dramas), but the reality is that he doesn't care about them enough to do so, for all intents and purposes making them "forgotten" to Wei Wuxian. Best of all, people believed him because HE'S DONE THIS EXACT THING BEFORE. The plot is repeating, but nothing feels the same. LAYERS absolutely destroying MONOTONY.

3. On top of that, it's a reaction to himself. He's demonstrating both metacognition and self-awareness, here, which is something actively studied in psychology as a phenomenon humans have that other animals might not, a la Dunning Kruger and the mirror test, respectively. What's more human than cringing at your un-self-awareness and learning from it?

And the best part is that we were on every step of this journey. It feels like such an obvious move to make now, like duh you can use your forgetfulness as a form of weaponized incompetence—guys do it all the time (derogatory). Wei Wuxian even does this in a cute way with his sister when he does Sajiao/aegyo at her to get her attention (affectionate).

4. But it truly hits different seeing him do it in such a specifically crafted story, structured like a mystery or a joke where the logic or punchline is him pretending to have bad memory, and I personally would never have thought of doing this on the spot like he did. This is some post-argument hindsight shower thought shit. Genius power fantasy done well.

Shit like this is STORYTELLING and STORY CRAFTING. The repetition of the scene to make his second snub more potent. THIS IS THE POWER OF SET UP AND PAYOFF. A unique usage of the adage of how a character's greatest strength is their greatest weakness, like someone's determination making them bull-headed and stubborn. Except in reverse, necromancy style, where a fatal flaw (his memory) becomes a great strength (plausible deniability). A simple example of how characterization is about specific traits in unique ways to SHOW us his personality better than the author just telling you he's smart ever could, like in BBC Sherlock. THE POWER OF SHOWING NOT TELLING. The interplay of the contradictions within his intelligence as a way to show that he's "real" and not a god. THE POWER OF DEPTH.

All this while he is quite literally the god of his story (Jesus-style).

That's right! Time for pointing out the idolization and mythologizing of Galileo!

Now I don't know if this is true because fact checking in Chinese fandoms is a nightmare when 1. your chinese is barely fluent and 2. most chinese socmed platforms require a chinese phone number to sign up. 3. these two facts leads to a lot of fandom telephone. But I remember someone quoting MXTX on the idea that Wei Wuxian and his love interest are supposed to be the moral paragons of this story (despite the way Wei Wuxian has been demonized *haha get it? demonic cultivation. his ghost cultivation got called demonic cultivation in the most on the nose misnomer in history*). This is probably not a true quote, but it's emblematic of how it feels to be reading this story.

For one, Wei Wuxian is quite literally the moral paragon. He's one of like 3 people actively against a genocide (other than its victims). A genocide that characters within the positions of power go along with for what boils down to personal convenience's sake (ALL EYES ON RAFAH). He's one of the few characters to truly master resentment AKA ENVY (aka WEI "No Envies" WUXIAN) in a story where basically all the bad stuff happens due to envy (funnily enough the actual evil villain of the story is probably the only opp who wasn't actually jealous of him, despite arguably being the one who not only was the most envious of the whole series and the one whose envy would make sense, being narrative foils with Wei Wuxian and all). You'd never see Wei Wuxian wishing evil upon someone out of jealousy (he quite literally sacrifices himself to save his "unrequited" "crush's" "crush").

For two, this world is set in ancient times, where killing was still wrong but also simultaneously seen as honorable, like with Odysseus killing his wife's suitors in revenge being seen as honorable, DESPITE him hating it when the cyclops killed HIS crew in revenge for sheep lol. Wei Wuxian has slaughtered many people, but often in circumstances that soften the immorality of it, like the insanity defense or self defense or "this is war in ancient china" or stopping a genocide. And he acknowledges that these wrongs were still wrongs and does good in the world/changes as a person to atone.

For three, he's god damned OP. In a magic system where enlightenment is directly tied to magical ability, Wei Wuxian is one of the most powerful magic users in their world. Top of his generation, beat out only by his love interest, kinda. Morality is tied to cultivation, which is why it's called the "righteous" sects.

But it gets better, because those sects are not actually righteous. The vast majority are hypocrites or worse, and their work mostly involves killing things for "mundane" people, who treat them like nobility for doing so (depth in contradiction). The implication is sorta kinda that Wei Wuxian so powerful BECAUSE Wei Wuxian is one of the few to actually be righteous and not just self-righteous.

Thus, him being the inventor, the only non-noble, and only user of ghost path cultivation, the reverse of cultivation, thus serves to highlight his moral integrity in comparison, even when being called a heretic (depth in contradiction).

(And while people argue that his cultivation ITSELF is evil, causing the souls of the dead to be unable to reincarnate, I'd argue that that reading is a misread that gets distracted by thinking "demonic" and "ghost" cultivation are the same thanks to his title as the grandmaster of DEMONIC cultivation, when they're not the same (again, misnomer). In reality, he's the only successful user of the ghost path, which is about EMPATHY (Wei Wuxian's most signature magical ability after his flute playing skills) for the dead, playing into their resentment to help them pass, like he said in the very scene where he defies the establishment of his school and initially defines his path. The shitty jobber demonic cultivators are going evil and shit because it's actually pretty hard to put yourself in people's worst desires and hurts (wwx still went insane lol), much less if you yourself are controlled by resentment like Xue Yang or Su She was, who both technically "empathize" in that they're about as resentful as ACTUAL ghosts LMAO.)

Anyways, all this to say that the entire story is structured around hiding the fact that Wei Wuxian is the bestest guy ever embroiled in a huge mystery, who gets slandered and killed by his opps for standing up against powerful oppressors before coming back to life and clearing his name... (jesus-style). A lot of the book is him morality mogging or witty mogging randos, many of whom are cartoonishly evil or rude. Dare I say it? Yes. Like BBC Sherlock.

BOOM. Gallileo becomes the myth.

BBC SHERLOCK 🤝WEI WUXIAN

Whew, I finally brought it back around to my original point.

THIS is why Wei Wuxian is everything BBC Sherlock writers wished they were doing. Because in spite of all their similarities (seriously? both of them have a death period where their lover (rip johnlock) is mourning them before coming back to life??) BBC Sherlock's nowadays gets mercilessly mocked for being a Mary Sue and his fanfic community is dead, meanwhile Wei Wuxian is so beloved by his readers that MDZS fanfic literally has had such a huge impact it got Ao3 banned in China and then added a maximum to tags on Ao3 PERIOD. King shit.

And despite what this post seems, it's not a disparagement of BBC Sherlock as a character. I loved him, I loved the idea of exploring this demigod. Superwho-manly intelligent, but in ways that make it hard for him to function in the human world (until John). His struggles with ostracism, "weird" interests, sensory issues, etc. are alarmingly human and a great allegory for neurodivergence (while not being one of those cringe "autism savant" tropes bc he isn't literally autistic). Sherlock fic popped off for a reason, it's just that the writing of the show didn't do the legwork work that MDZS did to support his character as a god, instead it mostly did shit like "oh it's okay I'm a pretentious asshole because I'm a genius and always magically right, even when I'm wrong, because I'm god." Like if Rick Rick and Morty wasn't self-aware... T_T

That's why this post is me compiling the ways Wei Wuxian's character was crafted to be intelligent. It's not bad to have power fantasy OP characters, but it's hard to do them as well as him. It's not just the clever deceptions or witty usage of words with multiple meanings or the self-awareness and learning, or giving the intelligence flaws to make it more believable. Sherlock had all these and more.

It's the combination of it all, usually in the order of "telling" they're intelligent through abstract things like other characters saying he's really good at detectivework and them magically solving cases, then complicating that intelligence through some kind of flaw, then "showing" him overcoming that complication using concrete examples of intelligence, such as self-awareness, witty double entendres/callbacks, contradictorily using weakness or appearing weak for specific gains, and reframing the given 'clues' in a new light with the help of red herrings. This is like a steelman persuasive essay format, but with proving that someone is smart. Thesis, counter, rebuttal with quantitative evidence. There's like a mini arc build up to a mini climax/climactic moment that makes it satisfying.

The set up and payoffs are key here, as a lot of these just require a bit of legwork before the payoff, such as Wei Wuxian repeating the same line he used as a mistake into one he does on purpose or find a scenario where forgetfulness is actually helpful in deceptions or whatever the chosen scenario is. Much easier to begin with the end in mind in and then retroactively write the beginning to match, instead of creating an impossible mystery, after all. 😭😭 Best part is that I didn’t even compare the mystery writing of MDZS to Sherlock’s ass mysteries, I did it purely on the strength of how its intelligence is utilized for character drama, just as Moffat and his defenders would have wanted.

#metas #mdzs #mxtx #mo dao zu shi #wei wuxian #bbc sherlock #sherlock #steven moffat #writing #writeblr #hbomberguy #yeah this is mostly me writing a love letter to hbomb’s Sherlock video #analysis #danmei #tropes #storytelling #xtian hegemony #rick and morty #self awareness

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