#with the insight she can get from the future

[viienrose]

Honestly, as a hard Wenclair shipper, I don’t hate on Wyler fans. I’ve decided to write an analysis about Wyler as a way to better understand them. Even if I don’t share their love for the ship, it doesn’t erase some good points.

The character of Wednesday, throughout the different adaptations, has always shown some kind of affection for the kind and shy boy-next-door type. Tyler kind of fits this description — even if, in my opinion, Eugene is a literal copy-paste of that stereotype and was clearly relegated to the “little brother” figure.

So Wyler can make some kind of sense. The dark and sharp character paired with the sweet counterpart is always a great combination. Opposites attract, am I right?

Another argument for Wyler is that Tyler turning into a dangerous monster wouldn’t necessarily be a red flag for an Addams. On the contrary, it’s actually a good argument — the Addams family loves the strange and macabre.

However, a Hyde must have a master. There has to be a power dynamic. Tyler will never truly be in control of the beast. And the Addams seem to value balance and equality in their relationships. It would also be unfair to Tyler to be forced into obedience. Even if Wednesday became his new master, it would make their relationship based on a lack of free will from one party. It sounds incredibly toxic.

The part that gets really questionable is the Hyde itself.

Like, I get that Laurel tortured and controlled Tyler, but he admitted to enjoying killing people. I also understand that it’s supposed to be interpreted through the lens of psychological/emotional/sexual abuse, and that Tyler liking the thrill of the dirty work he was forced into could be a trauma response.

But how much control does a Hyde really have?

That’s a big question throughout the show:

• Did Tyler really like killing?

• Is the Hyde another being within himself that subdues his “real” self?

• Or is it just his dark impulses surfacing?

• Is Tyler a good guy under the pressure of the Hyde, or was he the Hyde all along?

That brings us to the next point:

We don’t know Tyler.

We don’t know Tyler with the Hyde.

And through season one, we come to understand that Tyler was the Hyde. But it left us wondering: Was the Hyde Tyler?

Is Tyler a psychopathic murderer, or was he forced to act under the stronger will of a savage alter ego?

Are they the same or two separate beings? How do we even divide the responsibility between the two?

I really hope the show gives us more insight into it.

Since we don’t have answers yet, I can’t imagine Wednesday being involved with Tyler.

She obviously had an affection or at least an interest in the sweet coffee boy — but that wasn’t really Tyler.

The Hyde is part of Tyler, whether he likes it or not. Wednesday liked the version Tyler showed her — not his real self.

He basically lied to her to get close. He led her to Laurel even if he had some liking for her. Was he entirely controlled? Maybe, but either way, it’s safe to say Wednesday no longer holds any real attachment to him.

Another important point — even if it’s just common sense — is that Wednesday would absolutely hate Tyler if he truly meant those murders.

The Addams family might be creepy and kooky, but they have a strong sense of justice and solid values. They’re goth, not evil.

—

Now, some projections based on what we learn about Tyler in the future:

• Best-case scenario: He was subjected by the Hyde and gets help to control it, healing from his trauma. It would take time. He could then be redeemed and reintegrated into the outcast world, with a better understanding of Hydes and protections against the abuse he suffered.

• Worst-case scenario: The dark personality of the Hyde was always part of him, even before it “woke up.” In that case, Tyler holds responsibility for his crimes, is non-redeemable, and goes full villain mode.

Honestly, I’d be happy with either.

The actor playing Tyler is amazing, and I can easily see him nailing both versions.

Still, I think Tyler would be the perfect opponent for Wednesday rather than a potential suitor.

As you might have guessed from this analysis, I really dig his character — mostly for the mystery and potential he still holds.

—

Now that I’ve written this whole text about making peace with Wyler fans, I want to point out something:

We kind of have the same argument as Wenclair fans!

The opposites attract trope. The Addams’ fascination with monstrous creatures.

We’re not so different after all.

Let’s just enjoy the show in our own ways without turning on each other’s throats.

[serra-says]

Fabian's journey in the Forest of the Nightmare King was by far the worst, in my opinion — and the only one that wasn't really 'character building' so much as plain old traumatisation. this is something I wanted to bring up a few times but haven't quite figured out how to articulate without spiraling into a 2k analysis. let's go.

the entire scene feels silly. we get Chungledown Bim, who's got a funny name and a funny tagline and is treated by the entire group as a joke. he swings through the trees with a to-go coffee — that's not the description of a fearsome foe. we get the sexy rat, whose creation was a joke to lure in Edgar (Zayn's familiar) and who kept being brought back for bits. it's 'funny' because Fabian hates it, and everyone laughs about the image of Fabian being scared of it.

despite obviously the rat's main 'thing' being its looks, that's not what Fabian was running from — it's the intentions, both the rat's and Bim's. the only way to break through the Forest of the Nightmare King is to give in to your greatest fear, and the way Fabian does it is by laying down on the ground and giving Chungledown Bim permission to "just shit and fuck and do whatever the fuck you want," telling the sexy rat to "fuck me or do whatever weird fuckin' shit'."

that's messed up. the other kids had to acknowledge their fears or consider their futures. Baron was a manifestation of Riz's fear to be different, of his desire to 'fit in' and be loved in the way society says you should be. Gorgug struggles with preconceptions that he's dumb and too big and that, as a barbarian, he is only capable of destruction. Fig faces down her lies and her struggle with sincerity and self-expression, Adaine faces her traumatic childhood and future as the Elven Oracle, and Kristen was absent for obvious reasons but even then later self-revived and converted a god.

Fabian grew up not having choices — his destiny was already laid out for him. he will tread in his father's footsteps. this entire adventure, for him, was the catalyst to the discovery that there was choice. that he is able to say no, to have opinions and express those and make decisions for himself. to become a dancer instead of a fighter. it's the discovery of consent.

it makes sense that his greatest fear would then be losing that. having felt the ability to make his own decisions and being forced, by the Forest, to give that up— to be pressured into giving consent when it's the last thing he wants to.

in the Nightmare King's Forest, there's acknowledgement, there's recognition, there's overcoming — all themes in the other Bad Kids' journeys that make sense. Gorgug learns confidence ("Anyways, my point is eventually I will solve problems that maybe smarter people can solve in a shorter amount of time."). Adaine admits to 'Nightmare Adaine' that even though she grew up feeling unlovable, she feels hope that she might be, now. Adaine learns hope.

Fig, instead of worrying over the fear that she isn't enough, says "I hope that [Ayda] finds something that I didn't know was there." it's the learning of trusting in yourself. Riz gives into his fear of missing clues, of not being useful, and instead takes care of himself. Riz learns self-care.

that's quite a difference from the journey Fabian's been on. after watching his entire worldview and perception of himself shatter on Leviathan and cautiously rediscovering faith in himself in Kei Lumennura, Fabian learnt autonomy. his Nightmare King Forest journey wasn't one of introspection, or insight. Fabian learnt autonomy, briefly, and went into the Forest only to get reinforced that it never mattered. consent under duress isn't consent.

to make it back home, to survive the forest and be of use to his friends — he needed to give up his autonomy and give Chungledown Bim and the sexy rat permission to do whatever they want with him. Fabian fears subjection and powerlessness, and the way the Forest goes about showing that is by forcing him to accept submitting to physical violation. Fabian discovers learned helplessness.

he doesn't want to talk about it, once the kids leave the Forest. Cassandra brings it up and the Bad Kids poke fun of Fabian seeing "just a rat". Fig conjures it. Fabian tries to stab it, tells them to stop. Fig puts it on his shoulders instead.

it's another reinforcement that, whatever choice Fabian makes, it doesn't matter. he asks Cassandra not to tell the others what he saw, and she says it anyway. one of his greatest fears was the sexy rat, and his friends laugh about it. he tells them to stop, to leave it, and instead they conjure it and make him face the very thing he narrowly escaped.

it's another day, another case of Fabian expressing distress, of acknowledging and letting his friends know that he's scared, and his friends make it into a joke and force him to confront it regardless. the Bad Kids go home, at the end of the day, having learnt things. having increased their stats.

Fabian increased his Wisdom. it's the stat for perception of the world around him, the stat for clarity of mind and inherent knowledge. Fabian's increases, because he's learnt something in the forest. unlike his friends, it was not something positive.

Fabian goes home, and resolves not to tell his friends about anything again — it's become apparent, and reinforced, and cemented again and again and again that they will not offer support. any vulnerability he shows, they poke sticks in. any fears, they laugh at. and his hard-won autonomy, his ability to make decisions and choices and a name for himself — that's useless, since there will always be something to push and push and push and put pressure onto him until he chooses the initial outcome, anyway.

consent and coercion and autonomy and compulsion and choice all lead to the same outcome — a lack of control over his desired outcome in a scenario. he is subject to the expectations others have. the only way out is to submit. it's a valuable lesson.

it's one he shouldn't have learned.

[maxdibert]

Wow, you made me realize how isolated Lily really was - in fics they always give her this big group of girl friends: Marlene, Mary, Dorcas, Pandora, sometimes even Molly? (Do this people think? Did she have Bill when she was 10 or what?) - it makes you forget she didn’t have a single real friend after breaking her friendship with Severus - all her friends were James's buddies.

I may be wrong, but not a single character told Harry "I was friends with your mother (not James and Lily, just Lily), let me tell you about her" (It was always about James and about how amazing he was, or about what great popular couple they were).

The people she seemed to talk to after school were her neighbor (Bathilda Bagshot), James's friends and some order members that seemed to be just acquaintances not real friends and many died in the war, her parents were dead and her sister hated her, if she divorced James his friends would ignore her too - outside of Severus and Harry, she was completely alone in the world.

How did this seemingly popular girl finish school without a single friend?

A fic about the what if she survived the war and realized how much she willingly lost and how isolated she became because of James and her own decisions would be interesting.

For me, it's just another inconsistency in the plot. I mean, you’re supposed to have been one of the most popular people in your year, and generally considered a "catch" by the boys, yet your son knows hundreds of people who can tell him about his father, and not a single one who can speak to him about you? The only person through whom your son can learn anything about your childhood and adolescence beyond your husband is your childhood friend whom you stopped speaking to at the age of fifteen?? How does that make any sense?

I get that Rowling wanted to keep Lily shrouded in mystery for the sake of the plot twist and all that, but it wasn’t necessary for her to literally not have a single bloody friend throughout the entire timeline of the books. She could easily have introduced someone from the first Order who simply never knew about her connection with Snape, for instance. Or someone from school who just never mentioned him because they drifted apart when they were fifteen. To me, it makes absolutely no sense — and the worst part is that the two people who actually tell Harry anything about Lily (Severus and Petunia) are precisely the two whose relationship with her reached a point of no return because of James’s shitty behaviour. Yes, those relationships were already damaged beforehand, but it’s James’s arrogant, bullying, classist attitude that ultimately blows them apart. So the only two people who truly knew Lily from childhood and grew up with her — the only ones who could offer real insight — are people whose final falling out with her was triggered by her future husband. It just seems so, so problematic to me.

And then there’s that whole thing about your only close circle being your partner’s circle? That you can’t be socially independent of him because his friends are now your friends? But the truth is, they’re his friends first — the stronger bond is with him. Honestly, there are so many red flags, it’s unbelievable, and people romanticise it. I don’t know. It’s just terrible.

[twilightichor]

Given that it pertains to an item description from the pre-download, I'll be dumping under cut a brief discussion of it!

"I don't want to be your enemy, nor do I plan to destroy anything... Destruction... is not my end goal. It is not a matter of anyone's desires, but an inevitable conclusion. Embrace IT... You will come to realize that resistance is futile."

This item is related to Dreamless, which is going to appear in the new Somnoire event and it got me seriously thinking back on the 1.0 story. What she says here makes me wonder if it's just about her or also about that ominous moon (I guess this one would take the name of plenilune void?) and how confusing it is based on what happened. Sure, Phorolova awakened all those TDs herself which added a lot to the chaos, but still it does give some food for thought. Moreover, I wonder if Geshu has come across this himself and if it may have to do with his ultimate disappearance (still hoping that he'll make it as a playable character on his own and not... what some people have been theorizing aka Geshu = Scar).

It's also interesting the thought that the Fractsidus know about this and seek to press "human evolution" to guarantee their survival, messed up as it is. In a way it's like they have given up all hope to not reach to that conclusion where all humans need to undergo that evolution in order to survive.

[sophiamcdougall]

You're a reasonably informed person on the internet. You've experienced things like no longer being able to get files off an old storage device, media you've downloaded suddenly going poof, sites and forums with troves full of people's thoughts and ideas vanishing forever. You've heard of cybercrime. You've read articles about lost media. You have at least a basic understanding that digital data is vulnerable, is what I'm saying. I'm guessing that you're also aware that history is, you know... important? And that it's an ongoing study, requiring ... data about how people live? And that it's not just about stanning celebrities that happen to be dead? Congratulations, you are significantly better-informed than the British government! So they're currently like "Oh hai can we destroy all these historical documents pls? To save money? Because we'll digitise them first so it's fine! That'll be easy, cheap and reliable -- right? These wills from the 1850s will totally be fine for another 170 years as a PNG or whatever, yeah? We didn't need to do an impact assesment about this because it's clearly win-win! We'd keep the physical wills of Famous People™ though because Famous People™ actually matter, unlike you plebs. We don't think there are any equalities implications about this, either! Also the only examples of Famous People™ we can think of are all white and rich, only one is a woman and she got famous because of the guy she married. Kisses!"

Yes, this is the same Government that's like "Oh no removing a statue of slave trader is erasing history :(" You have, however, until 23 February 2024 to politely inquire of them what the fuck they are smoking. And they will have to publish a summary of the responses they receive. And it will look kind of bad if the feedback is well-argued, informative and overwhelmingly negative and they go ahead and do it anyway. I currently edit documents including responses to consultations like (but significantly less insane) than this one. Responses do actually matter. I would particularly encourage British people/people based in the UK to do this, but as far as I can see it doesn't say you have to be either. If you are, say, a historian or an archivist, or someone who specialises in digital data do say so and draw on your expertise in your answers. This isn't a question of filling out a form. You have to manually compose an email answering the 12 questions in the consultation paper at the link above. I'll put my own answers under the fold. Note -- I never know if I'm being too rude in these sorts of things. You probably shouldn't be ruder than I have been.

Please do not copy and paste any of this: that would defeat the purpose. This isn't a petition, they need to see a range of individual responses. But it may give you a jumping-off point.

Question 1: Should the current law providing for the inspection of wills be preserved?

Yes. Our ability to understand our shared past is a fundamental aspect of our heritage. It is not possible for any authority to know in advance what future insights they are supporting or impeding by their treatment of material evidence. Safeguarding the historical record for future generations should be considered an extremely important duty.

Question 2: Are there any reforms you would suggest to the current law enabling wills to be inspected?

No.

Question 3: Are there any reasons why the High Court should store original paper will documents on a permanent basis, as opposed to just retaining a digitised copy of that material?

Yes. I am amazed that the recent cyber attack on the British Library, which has effectively paralysed it completely, not been sufficient to answer this question for you.  I also refer you to the fate of the Domesday Project. Digital storage is useful and can help more people access information; however, it is also inherently fragile. Malice, accident, or eventual inevitable obsolescence not merely might occur, but absolutely should be expected. It is ludicrously naive and reflects a truly unpardonable ignorance to assume that information preserved only in digital form is somehow inviolable and safe, or that a physical document once digitised, never need be digitised again..At absolute minimum, it should be understood as certain that at least some of any digital-only archive will eventually be permanently lost. It is not remotely implausible that all of it would be. Preserving the physical documents provides a crucial failsafe. It also allows any errors in reproduction -- also inevitable-- to be, eventually, seen and corrected. Note that maintaining, upgrading and replacing digital infrastructure is not free, easy or reliable. Over the long term, risks to the data concerned can only accumulate.

"Unlike the methods for preserving analog documents that have been honed over millennia, there is no deep precedence to look to regarding the management of digital records. As such, the processing, long-term storage, and distribution potential of archival digital data are highly unresolved issues. [..] the more digital data is migrated, translated, and re-compressed into new formats, the more room there is for information to be lost, be it at the microbit-level of preservation. Any failure to contend with the instability of digital storage mediums, hardware obsolescence, and software obsolescence thus meets a terminal end—the definitive loss of information. The common belief that digital data is safe so long as it is backed up according to the 3-2-1 rule (3 copies on 2 different formats with 1 copy saved off site) belies the fact that it is fundamentally unclear how long digital information can or will remain intact. What is certain is that its unique vulnerabilities do become more pertinent with age."  -- James Boyda, On Loss in the 21st Century: Digital Decay and the Archive, Introduction.

Question 4: Do you agree that after a certain time original paper documents (from 1858 onwards) may be destroyed (other than for famous individuals)? Are there any alternatives, involving the public or private sector, you can suggest to their being destroyed?

Absolutely not. And I would have hoped we were past the "great man" theory of history. Firstly, you do not know which figures will still be considered "famous" in the future and which currently obscure individuals may deserve and eventually receive greater attention. I note that of the three figures you mention here as notable enough to have their wills preserved, all are white, the majority are male (the one woman having achieved fame through marriage) and all were wealthy at the time of their death. Any such approach will certainly cull evidence of the lives of women, people of colour and the poor from the historical record, and send a clear message about whose lives you consider worth remembering.

Secondly, the famous and successsful are only a small part of our history. Understanding the realities that shaped our past and continue to mould our present requires evidence of the lives of so-called "ordinary people"!

Did you even speak to any historians before coming up with this idea?

Entrusting the documents to the private sector would be similarly disastrous. What happens when a private company goes bust or decides that preserving this material is no longer profitable? What reasonable person, confronted with our crumbling privatised water infrastructure, would willingly consign any part of our heritage to a similar fate?

Question 5: Do you agree that there is equivalence between paper and digital copies of wills so that the ECA 2000 can be used?

No. And it raises serious questions about the skill and knowledge base within HMCTS and the government that the very basic concepts of data loss and the digital dark age appear to be unknown to you. I also refer you to the Domesday Project.

Question 6: Are there any other matters directly related to the retention of digital or paper wills that are not covered by the proposed exercise of the powers in the ECA 2000 that you consider are necessary?

Destroying the physical documents will always be an unforgivable dereliction of legal and moral duty.

Question 7: If the Government pursues preserving permanently only a digital copy of a will document, should it seek to reform the primary legislation by introducing a Bill or do so under the ECA 2000?

Destroying the physical documents will always be an unforgivable dereliction of legal and moral duty.

Question 8: If the Government moves to digital only copies of original will documents, what do you think the retention period for the original paper wills should be? Please give reasons and state what you believe the minimum retention period should be and whether you consider the Government’s suggestion of 25 years to be reasonable.

There is no good version of this plan. The physical documents should be preserved.

Question 9: Do you agree with the principle that wills of famous people should be preserved in the original paper form for historic interest?

This question betrays deep ignorance of what "historic interest" actually is. The study of history is not simply glorified celebrity gossip. If anything, the physical wills of currently famous people could be considered more expendable as it is likely that their contents are so widely diffused as to be relatively "safe", whereas the wills of so-called "ordinary people" will, especially in aggregate, provide insights that have not yet been explored.

Question 10: Do you have any initial suggestions on the criteria which should be adopted for identifying famous/historic figures whose original paper will document should be preserved permanently?

Abandon this entire lamentable plan. As previously discussed, you do not and cannot know who will be considered "famous" in the future, and fame is a profoundly flawed criterion of historical significance.

Question 11: Do you agree that the Probate Registries should only permanently retain wills and codicils from the documents submitted in support of a probate application? Please explain, if setting out the case for retention of any other documents.

No, all the documents should be preserved indefinitely.

Question 12: Do you agree that we have correctly identified the range and extent of the equalities impacts under each of these proposals set out in this consultation? Please give reasons and supply evidence of further equalities impacts as appropriate.

No. You appear to have neglected equalities impacts entirely. As discussed, in your drive to prioritise "famous people", your plan will certainly prioritise the white, wealthy and mostly the male, as your "Charles Dickens, Charles Darwin and Princess Diana" examples amply indicate. This plan will create a two-tier system where evidence of the lives of the privileged is carefully preserved while information regarding people of colour, women, the working class and other disadvantaged groups is disproportionately abandoned to digital decay and eventual loss. Current and future historians from, or specialising in the history of minority groups will be especially impoverished by this.  

[pucksandpower]

A Royal Surprise

Max Verstappen x Princess of Wales!Reader

Summary: in which Max 1) forgot to tell his team that he has a girlfriend and 2) forgot to tell his team that the girlfriend in question is the future Queen of England … oops?

One of Red Bull Racing’s PR officers, Leslie, sits in the back of the conference room, her pen poised over her notepad as she listens to the team debrief. It’s a typical Thursday morning, with engineers and drivers discussing the upcoming race weekend. Leslie’s eyes flit between Max Verstappen and his teammate as they offer their insights on car performance and track conditions.

“The balance felt off in turn three during the sim,” Max says, leaning back in his chair. “We might need to adjust the downforce.”

Leslie jots this down, already planning how to phrase it for the press conference later that afternoon. Just another normal day at Red Bull Racing, she thinks.

But then, Max casually adds, “Oh, and by the way, you might see some extra security around this weekend. My girlfriend’s coming to watch the race.”

Leslie’s pen stills. There’s something in Max’s tone that makes her look up sharply.

“Girlfriend?” Christian Horner raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone seriously.”

Max shrugs, a small smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, it’s been a few months now. We’ve been keeping it quiet.”

Leslie leans forward, her PR senses tingling. “Anyone we know?” She asks, trying to keep her voice casual.

Max’s grin widens. “You could say that. It’s Y/N.”

The room falls silent. Leslie blinks, sure she must have misheard. “I’m sorry, did you say Y/N? As in ...”

“The Princess of Wales, yeah,” Max confirms, as if he’s just mentioned dating a local girl from down the street.

Leslie’s notepad slips from her fingers, clattering to the floor. The sound seems to break the spell of silence that’s fallen over the room.

“Max,” Christian says slowly, “are you telling us that you’re dating the future Queen of England?”

Max nods, still looking far too relaxed for someone who’s just dropped a bombshell of international proportions. “That’s right.”

Leslie’s mind is spinning. Images of tabloid headlines and diplomatic incidents flash before her eyes. She stands up abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. “I need to make some calls,” she says weakly.

But before she can escape, Christian holds up a hand. “Wait, Leslie. We need to handle this carefully. Max, how long has this been going on?”

“About six months,” Max replies. “We met at a charity event in London. Hit it off right away.”

Leslie sinks back into her chair, her head in her hands. “Six months,” she mutters. “You’ve been dating the Princess of Wales for six months, and we’re just finding out now?”

Max has the grace to look a bit sheepish. “We wanted to keep it private for as long as possible. You know how it is with the media.”

Oh, Leslie knows. She knows all too well. “Max,” she says, trying to keep her voice steady, “do you realize what this means? The security implications alone ...”

“It’s all been taken care of,” Max assures her. “The palace has been very discreet.”

Leslie laughs, a slightly hysterical edge to it. “The palace. Of course. Because now we’re dealing with actual palaces.”

Christian clears his throat. “Right. Well, this certainly changes things. Leslie, I think we’re going to need to reschedule the rest of this meeting. Can you get started on a press strategy?”

Leslie nods numbly, her mind already racing with potential scenarios and damage control plans.

As the room begins to clear, Max approaches her. “Leslie? Are you okay? You look a bit pale.”

Leslie takes a deep breath. “Max, I appreciate you telling us. But next time you decide to date royalty, maybe give us a heads up a bit sooner?”

Max chuckles. “Sorry about that. If it helps, you’re handling it better than your counterpart at the palace did when you found out.”

“Oh God,” Leslie groans. “I’m going to have to coordinate with the royal PR team, aren’t I?”

“They’re actually pretty cool,” Max says. “A bit stuffy at first, but they loosen up after a while.”

Leslie shakes her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe this is my life now. Okay, Max, I need you to tell me everything. How did you meet? How have you kept this secret? What are the security arrangements?”

For the next hour, Leslie grills Max on every detail of his relationship with you. She learns about secret rendezvous in Monaco, carefully orchestrated “chance” meetings at public events, and the challenges of dating someone whose every move is scrutinized by the world.

“And you’re sure about this?” Leslie asks finally. “Dating her ... it’s not exactly going to be easy for you.”

Max’s expression softens. “I know. But she’s worth it. We’re worth it.”

Despite her stress, Leslie feels a twinge of sympathy. It can’t be easy, trying to nurture a relationship under such intense pressure.

“Alright,” she sighs. “I’ll do everything I can to make this as smooth as possible. But Max, promise me one thing?”

“What’s that?”

“No more bombshells, okay? My heart can’t take it.”

Max grins. “Well, actually ...”

Leslie’s eyes widen in alarm. “What? What is it now?”

“Her father ... he’s a big F1 fan. He’s been hinting that he’d like to attend a race.”

The room starts to spin. The last thing Leslie hears before everything goes black is Max’s concerned voice saying, “Leslie? Leslie, are you okay?”

When Leslie comes to, she’s lying on the conference room couch, with Max and Christian hovering over her anxiously.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” Christian says, relief evident in his voice. “You gave us quite a scare there, Leslie.”

Leslie sits up slowly, her head still spinning. “Please tell me I dreamed all of that,” she mutters.

Max shakes his head, looking apologetic. “Sorry, it’s all real. Are you okay? Should we call a doctor?”

Leslie waves him off. “No, no, I’m fine. Just ... processing.” She takes a deep breath, her PR training kicking in despite her shock. “Okay. Let’s take this one step at a time. First, we need to draft a statement.”

Christian nods. “Good idea. What are you thinking?”

Leslie stands up, pacing as she thinks out loud. “We need to confirm the relationship without making too big a deal of it. Something like ... ‘Red Bull Racing confirms that driver Max Verstappen is in a relationship with Her Royal Highness, the Princess of Wales. We ask for privacy as they navigate this new chapter.’”

Max frowns. “Isn’t that a bit ... formal?”

Leslie sighs. “Max, you’re dating the future Queen of England. Everything’s going to be a bit formal from now on.”

“She hates that, you know,” Max says softly. “All the formality. It’s why she likes being with me. I treat her like a normal person.”

Leslie pauses in her pacing, struck by the vulnerability in Max’s voice. “You really care about her, don’t you?”

Max nods. “More than I’ve ever cared about anyone. She’s ... she’s amazing. Smart, funny, kind. When I’m with her, I forget about all the titles and protocol. She’s just ... her.”

Christian clears his throat, looking uncomfortable with the display of emotion. “That’s all well and good, but we need to think about the bigger picture here. This relationship could have major implications for the team, for Formula 1 as a whole.”

Leslie nods, her mind already racing ahead. “We’ll need to coordinate with the palace on all public appearances. Security will need to be completely overhauled. And the media ... oh God, the media is going to have a field day with this.”

“Hey,” Max says, placing a hand on Leslie’s shoulder. “We’ll figure it out. You’re the best in the business, Leslie. If anyone can handle this, it’s you.”

Despite her stress, Leslie feels a rush of affection for the young driver. “Thanks. I appreciate that. Now, let’s get back to work. We have a lot to do before this news breaks.”

As they settle back into planning mode, Leslie can’t help but shake her head in disbelief. A Formula 1 driver and a princess. It sounds like something out of a fairy tale or a cheesy romance novel. But as she watches Max’s face light up when he talks about you, she realizes that sometimes, reality is stranger — and more romantic — than fiction.

“Oh, and Leslie?” Max adds as they’re wrapping up. “About the King wanting to attend a race ...”

Leslie holds up a hand. “One crisis at a time, Max. Let’s get through announcing your relationship before we start planning any more royal visits to the paddock, okay?”

Max grins. “Fair enough. But just so you know, he’s particularly interested in the British Grand Prix. Says it would be ‘jolly good fun’ to present the trophies.”

Leslie closes her eyes, already imagining the logistical nightmare. “Max, I swear, if you’re joking ...”

“Would I joke about something like this?” Max asks innocently.

Leslie looks at him for a long moment, then turns to Christian. “I’m going to need a raise. And possibly a personal team of therapists.”

Christian chuckles. “I think that can be arranged. Welcome to the new era of Red Bull Racing. It’s going to be an interesting ride.”

As Leslie gathers her notes and prepares to face the whirlwind that’s about to engulf them all, she can’t help but smile slightly. It’s going to be challenging, stressful, and probably more than a little crazy. But as she watches Max’s eyes light up at the mention of your name, she realizes that maybe, just maybe, it might all be worth it in the end.

After all, who doesn’t love a good fairy tale?

[kooyabooya]

INSIGHT

gaeul x m reader

17k words

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

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

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

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

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

(Though, it’s worth noting: 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My smile is always like this.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh? That so?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” mumbles Gaeul. “Yeah.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You may as well be far gone from the start. 

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you always this forward?” 

“Not always, might be just for you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Woah.” You freeze. “Hang on now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pfft, that doesn’t scare me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hungry?” 

Gaeul shakes her head, “Hm, kinda.” 

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

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

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

Gaeul blinks, hums a noise serving as a yes. 

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

“I’d like that.” 

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

She dips her head down, hiding her smile. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

Gaeul, effortless as she is, listens attentively. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You know that she won’t. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? Had enough already?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jesus, Gaeul-” 

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

“Mmph hmm.” 

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

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

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

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

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

She will make you insane. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Deprived no more, you’re mentally telling yourself. 

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

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

–

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

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

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

Gaeul drops her eyelids and smiles, a dimple appearing. 

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

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

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

“I wonder too,” she echoes your thought. 

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it?” 

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit. 

You really could. 

If you wanted to. 

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her body rebounds upwards on the inhale. 

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

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

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

“What?” 

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

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

“Not- that.” 

“Not?” 

Her head falls to the mattress. 

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

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

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

You inhale sharply. 

“Watch it,” you hiss. 

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

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

“You know what I want.” 

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

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

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

Gaeul pouts, combined with an eyebrow lift. 

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

A few more passing blinks go by. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You steady yourself, savoring the feeling. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What tone?” 

She curls a smile before cradling your head. 

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

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

“I might’ve said something different.” 

“Like you beg to differ.” 

“Hush.” 

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

“But you won’t.” 

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

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

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

“Really?” You’re asking acerbically.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My little sex kitten, how bout that?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her eyes water, fluttering.

“I hear you, darling. I know.” 

“Ah, yes. You-” 

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I can’t- hhn-” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Soon. You need a breather and push yourself away. 

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

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

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

This girl is a problem. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

Here’s the thing. 

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

“Yeah, I don’t mind.” 

“Awesome.” 

Silence builds up on the line. 

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

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

“Boooooo.” 

“What?” 

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

You smile at that. 

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

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

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

It’s something special to cherish. 

–

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

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

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

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

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

You kiss her knuckle and bring her up. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You speak for yourself? Or?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know my answer.” 

“Touché.” 

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

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

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

–

It’s all a process. 

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So you say: “Are you asking?” 

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

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

[stawberrymiko]

DAD, DA, DADDY OR FATHER? || LADS

⋆°𖦹 CHARACTER: Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus, Caleb, Xavier

ᶻᶻᶻ SYNOPSIS: A little insight on what I think the LADS future family would look like and what their children call them.

₊ ⊹ AN: Baby-fever. And I thought about how M A R R I E D Zayne and MC are.

☁️ . . . ⇢  ZAYNE

♡  Firstly, Zayne would be a girl dad. Singular. You and Zayne only had one daughter 

♡ These are a few of the names I think you guys would call your daughter;       ➠ Sirelle, Priscilla, Isadora, Daphne

♡ I personally like Daphne. So for this imagine she is Daphne.

♡ Daphne calls Zayne daddy, even as she grew up into her teen and adult years, and she would call you mommy. Though as she grew older, mommy slowly turned into mom.

♡ Daddy’s girl alert

♡ As she was younger, you and Zayne would call each other mommy and daddy to encourage her to call you mommy and daddy and you two just never grew out of it. Even when you became grandparents. You were with mommy and daddy when talking to Daphne, or gran mammy and grand daddy when talking to your grandchildren

♡ For example;

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

A couple in Zayne’s department had recently moved into their new house and were hosting a party. They had invited everyone in the department. At first Zayne didn’t want to attend. He didn’t really see a point in it, but you and Daphne were going. Rather he liked it or not.

“Daddy please!” Daphne, seventeen, was pleading with her dad to attend the event. She was rather close with the couple's children. She babysat the children from time to time and became close with the parents as well. You wanted to go because you loved a good party and wanted to give them a house-warming gift.

Zayne was set on not going. He was the introverted out of the family. Your daughter was in-between while you were the extrovert. Zayne didn’t move his attention away from the book he was reading. “No daring” 

Your daughter looked at you with pleading eyes. “Mommy! Tell daddy we’re going!” 

You laughed. “Oh we’re going. Daddy knows this”

That got his attention. “Daddy said we aren’t going. I don’t see why mommy thinks we are” He placed his book down beside him on the sofa.

“Argh! Daddy can we please go! It’s their forever home” Your daughter was like you in that sense. Always excited about peoples milestones and wanting to celebrate it.

“We never held a party for our home”

“What?! Why!” That little bit of information irritated your daughter.

You walked behind the sofa, standing behind Zayne. “Because at the time, mommy was going through a rough patch and daddy was helping her through it” While speaking, you had wrapped your arms around Zayne’s neck and rested your cheek on his head. “So we never threw one”

“Even before marriage. You guys still acted like a married couple” Your daughter stated.

She wasn’t wrong.

☁️ . . . ⇢  RAFAYEL 

♡ You tried doing the whole “mommy” and “daddy” thing with your children but sometimes Rafayel really ruffles your feathers. So he was called Rafayel a lot.

♡ When they were children, the twins would call Rafayel “daddy” and you “mommy”, but as they grew older, Rafayel became Rafayel, while you were known as mom.

♡ I see him with twins. Boy and a girl. Girl defo named Ariel. Don’t convince me. The son. I’m not sure. For this he is Atlas. O. . .that kinda works. Ariel and Atlas. Oh and a baby! I’m thinking. . . a seventeen year gap. Baby Asael

♡ Just imagine; 

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

“Mom! Rafayel is bothering me again” Ariel yelled from her room. She was getting ready to attend her school's ball when her dad stormed into the room. Atlas had informed him that she was attending the ball with Calix. 

No baby of his was going to a prom with a N109 zone low-life. 

He wouldn’t allow it. 

“Rafayel! I swear to God, leave her alone!!” 

You had just finished changing Asael’s nappy, getting him ready for bedtime. Rafayel was supposed to be putting your breast-milk into a bottle for Asael, but clearly he had other priorities then putting his baby to sleep.

“Atlas, did you tell your father about your sister and Calix?” Atlas was also heading to the ball, but he was getting ready at Daphne’s place. He was following you around like a duckling following his mommy.

Atlas would do something like this. He found it funny when Rafayel was bothering everyone but him. “Yes” Straight-forward.

This family was a disaster. 

You barged into your daughter's room. Ariel was sitting by her vanity mirror, her make-up half applied. And your husband was behind her, on his knees, crying like a massive baby. He had his arms around her and his head hiding in her back.

Your daughter looked at you. “Mom!” She cried.

“Rafayel, get up”

“No!” Rafayel’s words were muffled. “He can’t take my baby! I won’t allow it!” He snapped his head towards you. “Did you know this?! Were you aware a filthy crow was eyeing our daughter?”

Of course you did. You went to mothers group with his mom. What kind of idiot is he?

“Could be worse”

“Worse!! How could it be worse”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you spoke. “She could have brought a big-mermaid baby home with her”

☁️ . . . ⇢  SYLUS 

♡ Triplets baby!! I’m thinking of either one girl and two boys or two girls and one boy.

♡ For this it’s one boy and two girls. Calix, Lethia and Morana? Yeah. 

♡ Sylus doesn’t have a favourite. He’s not a girl dad or a boy dad. He is dad. He is just a dad. 

♡ I personally don’t think you both wanted your children to call you certain names. You just allow them to call you whatever. Rather it be your names, mom, dad, daddy, mommy, mother or father. You two don’t really have a preference.

♡ They definitely call you different names depending on what they want or need from you. 

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

“Daddy~” Lethia gracefully entered Sylus' office, putting her ballet classes into some use.

He knew what she wanted, just by her calling him daddy. “Ask your mother” He replied, eyes focused on the paper below him. 

“What! But mom said to come ask you! You had the card last” Lethia defeatedly fell onto the chair in front of Sylus’ desk. As lady-like as she is, when feeling defeated. She will manspread and slowly slide down the chair, her arms dropped over the chairs arms.

“However, your mother has more say in when you use your cards” Only because Sylus would allow the children to spend til they get bored or no longer have room. You wanted to limit their spending habits. Try not to raise spoiled brats.

And it works. To a degree.

Calix spends money to spoil his girlfriends. Lethia is a shopaholic -got that from you- and will spend money like she has many to spare. Which she technically does. Morana spends the least. She’s very content with what she has. 

“Wouldn’t she say to come ask you if she’s giving me permission to use the card?” Lethia sat up thinking about this. Technically, that’s what it would mean.

But Sylus doesn’t like this chance things with his wife. 

“Ask your mom first then come back with a voice recording”

Hopes lifted high, Lethia stands up from the chair with her phone in her hand. “Yay!” she rejoiced before leaving the room. 

“Mama!!” Her voice echoed through the halls and down towards the living room, where you and Morana sat in silence, reading.

☁️ . . . ⇢  CALEB

♡ Two daughters. Six year age gap. Both prefer you, but Caleb is set on being a girl dad and having daddy girls.

♡ It’s not happening. But a man can dream.

♡ I’m thinking Lilith and Eve. For. . . .reasons i’m not disclosing with y'all

♡ They call you “mom” and “dad”. He wanted them to call you both “mommy” and “daddy” but it wasn’t happening. Just like how he wanted to have daddy girls. Not happening. 

♡ He will go and cry to you. I can just feel it.

♡ Watch this;

Lilith -fifteen- had recently asked her dad to help her with an assignment for school. Caleb was over the moon that his daughter wanted his help for once and not her moms. The moment she had asked him for help, he dropped the saw he was using to create their custom wardrobe, and rushed to the kitchen where Lilith was doing her assignment.

“Daddy’s here” He called out as he pushed the door open. 

Lilith raised a brow at her dad, the behaviour wasn’t unusual, but she still found it weird. “Ok dad. . .” She replied before going back to her laptop. 

The word “dad” broke his heart. 

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Later that night, you had finished your night routine and came out of your shared bathroom. Your hair damp from the shower you just had, droplets of water falling onto your freshly picked pajamas.

On your bed was a sulking Caleb. His face buried in the pillow. He was still wearing the clothes he wore that day. He hadn’t moved an inch since he came into the bedroom, two hours ago. 

“Caleb” Pity laced in your voice. You sat on the bed. 

This mans was so pathetic sometimes.

Harshly, he turned his head to face you. His brow lowered and his lips pulled into a pout. “I want another baby”

You laughed but stopped yourself right after. He was having a moment of dad failure. Don’t laugh.

“Ahh. . .. absolutely not.” You shot that down. No more babies. Two was enough.

“They call me dad! Eve called me Caleb!!” 

“Ouch, rough” He was definitely annoying her. They only ever called him Caleb if he was pushing their buttons. 

“They call you mommy all the time! I want to be daddy!” How did you get here? What path of life did you take to be here? Consoling your husband about not being called daddy.

“They’ve called you daddy” You tried to bring him back to when they were babies. Though. . . .now that you think about it, their first words were mama and they only ever called him dad or da. 

The next words that came from Caleb made you realise you need to sit the girls down and teach them about when and when not to say thoughts out loud. “They’ve called fictional characters daddy than they’ve called me daddy”

It’s so true as well. 

“No more babies”

Out of desperation, Caleb draped his arms around your waist and pulled himself closer to you, burying his face into your stomach. Right where he wanted a baby bump to be. “Please!! One more!!”

☁️ . . . ⇢  XAVIER

♡ Congrats! It’s a baby girl - Ophelia, Liya, Calista. I like Opheila.

♡ Congrats again! Five years later it’s a baby boy! Caelus

♡  Your son is the carbon copy of Xavier and you don’t or never knew how to feel about it. 

♡ I see him being a boy dad. 

♡ They don’t call him dad or anything like that. They call him zeze or zaza.

♡ It started when Ophelia was a baby and tried to say Xavier because you and him never stressed about the whole “mom” and “dad” thing. But instead of Xavier, she said Zaza. Just didn’t end there. Your son would call him zeze.

♡ Dad? Nah. Zaza or Zeze? Yeah.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

“Zaza, I’m fine” Ophelia recently got diagnosed with insomnia and Xavier was worried to the max about it. Him and his son were able to sleep peacefully, no matter where or the situation. They will be passed out.

Ophelia, however, got your genes. Where you will be awake until a certain situation gets resolved. You would toss and turn, or just give up on sleep as a whole. Unfortunately, Ophelia got the short stick. 

It was Zayne’s wife who noticed Ophelia’s moodiness, low moods and excessive tiredness. Sure, you had noticed it too but she was your daughter. A copy of you. You knew there were nights where she struggled to sleep. And, depression was a common thing in your family. 

After her diagnosis. Xavier had started sleeping in your daughter's room, believing that if he was capable of getting you to sleep on your rough nights, then he would be able to help his daughter.

Ophelia was against this. But Xavier was determined to help his daughter.

“Mama, please get him out of here”

Xavier was fast asleep on your daughter's bed. Your daughter was sitting beside him. She had tried to get him up, but he wouldn’t budge. “Zaza won’t leave me alone” She was tired, but it was more tiredness against her dad rather than actual exhaustion. 

Seeing your daughter so distraught about Xavier brought pain to you, especially knowing that he just wanted his daughter to get some sort of sleep. “He is just worried about you.” You sat on the edge of your daughter's bed, your arm outstretched towards Xavier. 

You gave him a nudge. “Xavier” You called him.

He didn’t budge.

“Your Zaza loves his sleep. It destroys him knowing his daughter can’t enjoy the same thing he does”

“. . . I know”

[sailornymph]

Hey! Can you please do a relationship dynamics with Sasuke when they were genin ? Like wether they were on the same team or not and how they act together Infront and off front of people, something like that. You write what you want, because I don't really have a preference for something , I'm just not good at describing what I want ��

imperfect for you; sasuke uchiha

synopsis — genin!sasuke x genin!reader general hcs

a/n — a big thank you for 200+ followers in just a month. i am super grateful and excited for what the future brings!! and your description was perfect anon, thank you :)

— you never intended on getting the attention of sasuke uchiha, originally, only trying to prove a point to your parents. you may have been a rainbow baby, but you were far from weak and did not need their constant overbearing protection

— you weren’t the quickest fighter, but you relied heavily on strategy and it carried you thus far, finally taking the genin exams. embarrassingly pushing your mother, as she hugged you, telling you that you didn't have to do this

— passing your exam, you receive the second highest score, only missing a question or two more than sasuke

— you are placed on team 8, alongside kiba, hinata, and shino. while there were talks of you being placed on team 7, many of the sensei disagreed pointing out that while you had the second-highest score, you didn't have any special qualities

— while you are aware of the uchiha’s presence, you aren't initially attracted to him. there are too many girls in the class who already like him, and he is very rude, so why waste your time?

— you have your first encounter, when you cause a scene, arguing with neji. it was no secret that he was mean to hinata, but no one seemed to ever stand up to him

— you knew he was stronger, but you still stood your ground, defending your friend. you couldn’t even remember what happened. your last memory conscious was seeing kakashi and guy sensei standing in front of neji…and sasuke, before blacking out

— waking up in the hospital, with a broken arm and a blackened eye, you are immediately bombarded by your worried parents, scolding you, as they pepper your face with kisses. was this not enough proof that the shinobi life was not meant for you? not exactly. they stick around until you convince them that you are fine and they can go back to working

— as they are leaving, kurenai sensei enters along with your teammates, with gifts and hugs, glad that you are okay. despite having to scold you, for fighting, she is also proud of you, for standing up for what thought was right. spending time with them, hinata shares a bit of insight from the fight

— before neji could deliver the final blow, the uchiha had intervened. no one even knew he was watching, the two of them shared words no one could hear, but from the look of it…sasuke and neji were about to fight next until their sensei’s showed up stopping it

— with a stunned look on your face, you accepted their hug as they left, allowing a few other friends to visit. by the afternoon, you could only imagine your expression, when there was a soft knock before sasuke entered

“you’re okay,” he said, his usual stoic expression in place.

“i am, i heard about what you did, thank you,” you smiled, as he let go of the door, allowing it to shut behind himself.

“tch, why would you think you of all people could fight neji?” he asked you, frowning, catching you off guard.

“the way he treats my friend is unacceptable, because of something she had no control over-

“so you pick a fight with a hyuga, you’re smarter than that, y/n,” he glared.

staring perplexed by his choice of words, you furrowed your eyebrows. sure, you had the second-highest scores, but that could have easily been a matter of luck. however, you were never around sasuke, you weren't even friends with sakura or naruto, so how would he have known if you were smarter than picking a fight?

“i’ve seen you training until the sun is setting, you want to be stronger, you aren't annoying like the girls in our class. all they care about is getting my attention, yet, you never spared me a glance”

“what is your point?”

“you're smart and i find you…interesting,” he found himself struggling to form his thoughts into words, a dark pink hue appearing on his cheeks.

“oh? sasuke, you are interesting to me too, you're very cool and i’m sure you will be an amazing shinobi,” you smiled, making him shift his eyes.

“would you like to have some food? everyone has brought me so much, i don't want it to go to waste,” you offered, hoping to lighten the tension.

“what do you have?”

“chocolates, mochi, onigiri, and soup”

“just a bit, i don't care for sweets,” he mumbled, joining you.

— the cycle continued and you don’t think too much of it. sasuke visited you every evening, sometimes he would talk (it is usually you talking and he had short responses) but he mostly listened, only leaving once you started yawning too much, or the nurse told him he had to go

— finally the day came that you could leave, and struggling to pack your things, your arm in the sling, you were unsurprised by sasuke picking up your bag. following close behind you, you thanked him, leading him to your house

— as you arrive, before you can wish him farewell, your parents open the door. staring at sasuke, they immediately began to thank him, inviting him inside for dinner. he wanted to say no thank you, but your mother was already tugging him into your home, saying he could wait with you until dinner was ready

— apologetically leading him to your room, it was awkward sitting next to each other. your eyes glued to the floor, as he stared at all of the pictures you had on your wall. from trips with your parents, pictures with your teammates, or other friends who weren’t in your class

— your father finally entered the room, letting you both know that dinner was ready. you proceed to endure the most insufferable dinner. your parents continually praising sasuke, how he practically saved you, and how he should talk you out of becoming a shinobi, you should focus on taking over the family business, etc

— after it was over, you quickly walked sasuke out, apologizing once again for your embarrassing parents. he tells you there is no need to apologize, but you can see on his face, he is holding something back

“what is it? i know my parents can be annoying, but you're so red in the face,” you laughed, walking beside him.

“no, they're not that bad, naruto is worse,” he said, making you laugh.

“i guess, he seems cool enough to me, so what is it?”

“would you like to get ramen with me, tomorrow?”

“sure, is that all?”

“yes, good night,” he said, turning to walk away.

“good night,” you waved, going back to your house, stopping as you noticed your parent's eavesdropping.

“can i help you?”

“did sasuke ask you to go somewhere with you?”

“yes, we’re getting ramen tomorrow,” you said, furrowing your eyebrows.

“our baby is going on her first date,” your dad squealed like a schoolgirl.

“date?”

“honey, you didn't see the way he kept looking at you?”

“no, i’m going to bed,” you said, weirded out by them.

— all night you found yourself thinking about your parent's words. sasuke was being nice, even if he wasn't showing it on his face. did he like you? could you even like him back? you would have too much competition

— forcing yourself to go to sleep, you would let it go, until tomorrow and take things one thing at a time. from the time that you woke up, to the time that sasuke knocked on your door, were your parent's words. you had never even thought about dating, but here you were questioning everything

— going to the ramen shop, ordering your meals, you began to make conversation, until your food was placed in front of you

“you still have that distant look on your face”

“i-i like you a lot, y/n,” he admitted, his face turning red, as you didn't respond. were you surprised? disgusted? was the feelings mutual? sasuke felt sick to his stomach at the fact that you weren't responding.

“i like you too,” you finally said, smiling him.

“do you want to be my girlfriend?”

“sure,” you shrugged, picking up your chopsticks.

— he eventually walks you home, this time, his hand brushing against your own. stopping in front of your house. your heart is racing, as you peck his cheek, running inside

— your relationship remains lowkey until it is exposed on accident. he had been sick when a few classmates decided to stop by and check on him. he slept downstairs, letting you have his room, when he heard the knock. opening the door, he was met by multiple voices asking if he was okay. making your way downstairs, you froze making eye contact with your classmates. naruto pointed out loudly that you were wearing sasuke’s pajamas before the uchiha slammed the door in all of their faces.

— only for the two of you to eventually let them in, acting as if nothing happened, admitting that the two of you are together, but you quickly change the subject, while sasuke continues to ignore everyone

— sasuke is very cautious and dating isn't even a priority for him, so for him to be so willing to be in a relationship with you, he feels deeply for you

— genin sasuke has a wall around him that only you have managed to climb over, to get to his true nature. around others, he acts like everyone is insufferable, even you

— however, when you spend the night at his place, or he visits you, while your parents are away on business trips, you get to see the real sasuke

— he’s gentle, clingy, and quite sensitive. from the moment that he let you in, his arms around you, as he mumbled a small apology for ignoring you earlier

— he seeks your approval, without even realizing it, did you see him training today? what did you think? did he seem like he was getting stronger?

— he is easily jealous but tries to act like he's not. you, hinata, and kiba are like three peas in a pod, but he can't stand the boy. hinata is very clearly only into naruto, but the wild boy is always near you, taking your attention. he also can't be too sure, but he saw him staring a little too long at you for his liking

— while he is jealous, he can hide it very well because his ego keeps him in check, he is the last uchiha, which made him better than kiba, right? also, you were his girlfriend and didn't even think of other boys in that way

— going back to his gentle and kind nature, while he usually starts immature arguments, he is also the one to want to make up first. you were trying to include him in some fun with your classmates, but he wanted to seem cool, so said no, mumbling how you were being lame. passing a few words, you scoffed, going to hang with your friends, then going straight home

— later that day, your mom called you from your room, saying that sasuke was here. concealing your frown, you invited him into your room, his arms were around you the moment the door shut. his breath shaking, his heart pounding, as he apologized, scolding himself for how he spoke to you

— doesn’t say much during conversations pertaining to if you were married when you get older, your dream wedding, etc. he just states that he will eventually want to restore his clan, when he’s older, while blushing

— leading up to him leaving, he becomes colder, and distances himself. you’ll sleep over and he won’t say a word to you, simply holding your hand, deep in his thought

— during the night that he left, not even you could stop him, completely changing your entire relationship

running as fast as you could, you came to a stop, seeing sakura knocked out, while sasuke was about to walk away.

“sasuke, don’t do this. you’re going to leave everything behind, kakashi, your friends, me. he just wants to use you-

“i have to become stronger, y/n, to k-

“to kill itachi, i know, but this isn’t the way, please”

“i’m sorry”

“sasuke, you promised we would grow stronger together, we would get married and restore your clan,” you cried, as he turned to face you.

“i cannot restore my clan until i’ve had revenge,” he told you, holding your face, as you cried harder.

“take me with you, if you have to go. i can’t be without you”

“no”

“please, sasuke”

“you have your parents, friends, teachers, many who would be broken at the thought of you gone. you can not go where i will be”

“you said you loved me, if you love me, why are you leaving me like i mean nothing to you?” you shouted angrily, tears pouring down your face.

“meeting and loving you has been my greatest privilege. you’ve brought emotions to me that i haven’t experienced since my clan was still alive. my love for you is the exact reason why i must leave you here,” he said, appearing behind you, knocking you out — leaving you and sakura both on a nearby bench, as he left, going to join orochimaru.

[mintyys-blog]

Hii can I request a mark x raven reader where mark is dating eve but they keep it in the down low but when reader started working with them as a new member he started growing a crush on her a huge one at that and he tells William abt it and William’s like if you want her get her and he lists all her good qualities that makes mark even more persistent with trying to get with reader, mark starts pursuing her and eventually they become close much to eves dismay and eve grows suspicious of mark and his whereabouts one night and decides to follow him and sees him and reader making love in marks bed at his house and eves hurt and mad and confronts them and gives mark the decision to either leave reader or stay with eve and he chooses to be with reader, mainly angst on eves part and heavy smut between reader and mark :3

CALM BEFORE THE STORM — mark grayson x raven! reader

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: cheating, lying, eves dad, mention of emotional neglect, manipulation, emotional manipulation, reader is a bad friend.

Mark had been struggling. His life, constantly split between his roles as Mark Grayson and Invincible, was beginning to feel like it was too much. Everything had changed when his baby brother Oliver got his powers—he now had to look after him, guide him, be a role model, all while dealing with the chaos Angstrom Levy had left in his wake. His mind was a mess, and even though he tried to put on a brave face, it was getting harder to hide the stress.

That was when Y/N joined the team.

She was different from anyone else. Not in an obvious way, but something about her presence was calming, almost otherworldly. She wasn’t the loudest, but her quiet confidence and the way she seemed to understand people without saying a word caught Mark’s attention. She kept to herself, focusing mainly on meditation and maintaining a peaceful presence. When the others spoke to her, she was always kind, but there was something mysterious about her—a depth to her that Mark couldn’t quite figure out.

It was after a particularly rough day when Mark found himself crossing paths with her. He could tell something was off. His usual energy, his bravado as Invincible, was wearing thin. Y/N noticed it almost immediately, her empathic abilities alerting her to his inner turmoil.

“Mark,” she said softly one evening, as the two of them walked side by side, “you’re struggling. You don’t have to carry everything by yourself.”

Mark looked at her, surprised by her insight. He tried to brush it off. “I’m fine, Y/N. Just… trying to keep everything together.”

But she wasn’t buying it. “You’re not fine. Your mind is filled with too much noise. Have you ever tried meditation?” she asked, her voice gentle.

Mark looked at her, skeptical. “Meditation? You’re serious? I don’t think that’s gonna work.”

She gave him a small smile, a knowing look in her eyes. “It’s worth a shot. I can teach you. It’s helped me a lot. Let me show you how to clear your mind, even if it’s just for a little while.”

Mark wasn’t convinced, but something in her sincerity made him agree. “Alright, fine. I’ll give it a shot.”

The next day, they met up in a quiet corner of the team’s base. Y/N sat cross-legged, floating a few inches off the ground. Mark sat across from her, looking at her with a mix of curiosity and doubt. He tried to copy her posture, crossing his legs, trying to clear his mind, but all he could think about was the mess of his life.

“Alright,” Y/N began, her voice calm and steady. “The first thing you want to do is take a deep breath in, and out. Breathing is important in meditation—it helps center you. Focus on your breath.”

Mark did as instructed, inhaling deeply, then exhaling slowly. He kept his eyes closed, hoping to relax. But even as he tried, the thoughts wouldn’t stop. The pressure of his responsibilities, the weight of Angstrom’s consequences, and his own fears about his future were all flooding his mind. He could feel Y/N’s presence next to him, her calm energy in stark contrast to his storm of emotions.

“Mark,” she said softly, breaking through his chaos. “You aren’t letting go. You’re still holding onto everything. Try to release it.”

He opened his eyes and looked at her, frustration creeping into his voice. “I’m trying, okay? It’s just not that easy.”

Y/N smiled, her eyes glowing faintly. “I can help you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I can go into your mind and ease your worry—temporarily. If you want.”

Mark raised an eyebrow. “You can do that?”

She nodded. “I can. It’ll help you get used to letting go. But you have to trust me.”

He hesitated for a moment, then sighed, letting go of his reservations. “Sure, I guess.”

Y/N’s eyes glowed brighter, her power now fully engaged. Mark felt a strange pressure in his mind as she entered, and suddenly, everything around him went quiet. All the noise—the endless thoughts, the pressure, the worry—was silenced. It was as if someone had turned down the volume on his life.

He let out a long sigh of relief, feeling the weight lift from his shoulders. His mind felt clear for the first time in ages.

“Wow,” he said, his voice soft. “That actually feels a lot better. Thanks.”

Y/N smiled, floating back to the ground and settling beside him. “It’s temporary. But you’ll learn how to do this on your own with time. It takes practice.”

Mark grinned, feeling lighter than he had in weeks. “So, I guess you’re not just some goth girl who does weird stuff? You’re pretty amazing.”

She flicked his forehead lightly. “Try again, Mark. Now that your mind is clear, meditate on your own. No distractions this time.”

Mark chuckled, grateful for her guidance, and closed his eyes once more. This time, he focused, trying to quiet the noise on his own. And it worked. The peace he felt was like calm waves washing over him, steady and soothing. For the first time in a long while, he could relax, if only for a moment.

When they finished, Mark opened his eyes, a sense of tranquility settling over him. “That was… amazing. I think I actually get it now.”

Y/N smiled, her eyes softening as she nodded. “It takes time. But you’ll get there.”

Mark sat in silence for a moment, his thoughts no longer racing. For the first time in a while, he felt like he could breathe. But as he glanced over at Y/N, a new, unspoken connection began to form between them, one that wasn’t just about their abilities but about something deeper. Something he wasn’t sure he was ready to admit, but that was starting to take root.

And so, the pursuit began.

It was a quiet evening when Mark found himself standing outside Y/N’s room, his mind once again overwhelmed with the chaos of his life. Oliver, Angstrom, the guilt of his dual identity as Invincible—it all felt like too much. His recent meditation sessions with Y/N had brought some peace, but tonight, he felt the weight of everything bearing down on him more than ever.

He knocked lightly on her door, his nerves catching him off guard. Y/N opened it almost immediately, as though she had been expecting him. Her calm demeanor instantly put him at ease.

“Hey,” he greeted, shifting awkwardly on his feet.

“Come in,” she said with a gentle smile, stepping aside to let him through. The soft glow of her room, the faint scent of incense, and the quiet serenity that seemed to surround her instantly put Mark in a more relaxed state. “What’s on your mind tonight?”

Mark sighed deeply, feeling the tension in his shoulders. “Same old stuff,” he said. “I just can’t seem to shut it off, you know? Can we do some meditation?”

“Of course,” she said, leading him to a spot on the floor. “Let’s clear your mind. I’ll help you.”

Mark sat down cross-legged across from her, and Y/N began guiding him through the process, her voice soft and soothing. As they floated in the air, breathing deeply, Mark began to feel his thoughts slow, the noise starting to fade. But he was still struggling to let go fully. His mind was restless, thinking about the responsibilities weighing on him, the tensions with Eve, and the guilt he carried every day. The silence of the room seemed to amplify his internal struggle.

Y/N’s voice broke through the silence. “Mark, you’re still holding on,” she said softly, her eyes glowing as she turned her attention to him. “You need to let go. I can help. Would you like that?”

He hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. I need help.”

Her eyes glowed brighter as she entered his mind once more, easing his worries, silencing the storm inside him. He relaxed, the relief flooding through him as his thoughts finally quieted.

But just as he was beginning to find peace, he heard a soft knock on the door. It was Eve.

Mark’s heart sank. He hadn’t meant for Eve to find out about these late-night sessions with Y/N. He stood up, looking at Y/N, who nodded reassuringly, as if she already knew what was coming. Mark opened the door to find Eve standing there, her face a mixture of concern and suspicion.

“Mark,” Eve said, her voice tight. “I’ve been looking for you. You’ve been… distant lately. And I’ve noticed you’ve been spending a lot of time with Y/N. What’s going on?”

Mark opened his mouth to explain, but before he could, Y/N stepped forward, her calm presence immediately soothing the tension in the room.

“Eve,” Y/N said with a gentle smile, “I’ve been helping Mark with meditation. He’s been struggling with a lot of things, and I’ve been trying to help him clear his mind, ease the stress. It’s been a weekly thing for a while now. It’s not what you think.”

Eve’s expression softened as she processed the information. The anger and hurt that had flashed in her eyes began to dissipate, replaced with a quiet understanding. “I thought… I thought you were cheating on me,” Eve admitted, her voice small.

Y/N sensed the shift in Eve’s emotions—guilt, confusion, and a deep sense of hurt. She took a step forward, her empathic abilities allowing her to feel the turmoil Eve was experiencing. With a gentle smile, Y/N said, “Eve, I’m sorry for the misunderstanding. I didn’t want to cause any tension between you two. Mark needed this, and I was just offering support.”

Eve’s eyes flickered between Mark and Y/N, processing everything. Her shoulders slumped, and she sighed. “I’m sorry, Mark. I should’ve trusted you.” She looked at Y/N. “I didn’t realize… I’ve just been so worried. I didn’t want to lose him.”

Y/N smiled softly, sensing Eve’s vulnerability. “It’s understandable. Relationships are hard, especially when there’s so much going on. But sometimes, all we need is a little help to find balance again.”

Eve nodded slowly, her gaze flicking back to Mark. “I didn’t mean to make this harder than it already is. I’ve just been feeling so lost with everything, too.”

Y/N’s smile widened, sensing Eve’s sincerity. “Sam,” she said, using the nickname for Eve she’d picked up from their interactions, “why don’t you join us? There’s room for both of you. It might help you find some peace as well.”

Eve hesitated, but after a moment, she nodded. “Yeah, I think I could use that.”

Mark, still processing the conversation, looked at Eve, relieved to see her willingness to move past the misunderstanding. “You don’t have to if you’re not comfortable with it,” he said gently, offering her a warm smile.

But Eve, with a deep breath, smiled back. “I think it could help. I want to be able to trust you more, Mark. And if this can help us… then I’m willing to try.”

The three of them sat together, Eve joining them in the peaceful floating meditation. Y/N guided them both through the process, and for the first time in a long while, the room felt truly peaceful. Eve, though still carrying the weight of the tension, began to relax, her mind slowly letting go of her worries. Mark, now with both of them there, felt a sense of balance return.

As they meditated together, Y/N’s presence was a constant reminder that even in the midst of turmoil, peace could be found if they were willing to work together. And for the first time in a while, all three of them found a sense of calm, not just in their minds, but in the fragile trust they were rebuilding.

It had been a few weeks since the tension between Eve, Mark, and Y/N had settled, but the cracks were still there. Eve had been showing up to the meditation sessions without Mark sometimes. She would sit quietly, eyes downcast, her thoughts clearly swirling with a mixture of emotions she didn’t know how to handle. Her past with Rex, the lingering doubts in her relationship with Mark, and the deep-seated fear of being hurt again weighed heavily on her.

One evening, after a particularly difficult day filled with stress and lingering resentment, Eve arrived at Y/N’s room. She didn’t speak immediately, but Y/N could sense the heaviness in her heart. The emotional turmoil was palpable.

Y/N stood up from her spot on the floor and walked over to Eve. “Hey,” she said softly. “I can tell something’s on your mind. You want to talk about it?”

Eve looked at her, the mask she often wore of being strong and collected faltering. She nodded slowly, her voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know why I keep doing this. I keep pushing Mark away. I don’t trust him, and I’m scared I’m making the same mistakes I made before. Rex—he cheated on me, you know? And I can’t shake this feeling that Mark will do the same thing, and I’ll end up hurt again.”

Y/N listened carefully, her heart aching for Eve. She understood the fear of betrayal all too well, and she knew the pain of being stuck in a cycle of mistrust. Eve had been through so much, and this fear—it wasn’t something she could just turn off.

Y/N placed a gentle hand on Eve’s. “Eve,” she said softly, her voice soothing, “I understand. It’s okay to feel like that. You’ve been through a lot, and it’s not easy to just switch off that kind of fear. You’re not alone in feeling this way.”

Eve’s breath caught, her eyes filling with tears she had been holding back for so long. “I just… I don’t want to lose him. But every time I feel like I’m getting close to trusting him again, I remember Rex, and everything feels like it’s falling apart.”

Y/N squeezed her hand, offering her a comforting smile. “It’s understandable. What you went through with Rex—it’s hard to forget. You’ve been hurt, and that kind of pain takes time to heal.”

There was a pause, a heavy silence hanging in the room. Y/N hesitated before speaking again, her voice soft and careful. “I… I’m sorry about this, Eve, but I need to tell you something. I read your mind.”

Eve’s eyes widened in shock, the sudden revelation catching her off guard. “You… you read my mind?” Her voice was a mixture of surprise and uncertainty. “How could you…?”

Y/N nodded slowly, her expression apologetic. “I know this probably feels like an invasion of privacy, but I had to understand the pain you were carrying before I could help ease it. I can’t help someone heal unless I understand where it hurts. And when I did, I saw… well, I saw a lot, especially about your father.”

Eve was silent for a moment, the reality of what Y/N had said settling over her. Her father—someone who had always made her feel like she wasn’t good enough, who had never shown her the love and support she deserved. It was a pain that Eve had buried deep within herself for years. It wasn’t something she often spoke about, but it had shaped her in ways she couldn’t ignore.

Y/N’s voice was soft, full of empathy. “I’m sorry, Eve. No one should have a family like that. No one should feel like they’re constantly fighting for approval and never getting it. You deserve so much more than that.”

Eve felt her heart constrict in her chest. The tears she had been holding back began to spill over. “I’ve always felt like I wasn’t enough. My dad… he never wanted to be around me— wanted me to be a normal kid. I’ve spent my whole life trying to prove I’m worthy, and it’s exhausting. I thought I was stronger than this… but it still hurts. And I’m afraid that Mark will leave me just like everyone else.”

Y/N’s heart ached for her, but she stayed calm, offering her support. “It’s okay, Eve. You’ve been carrying this pain for so long, and it’s not something that can just disappear overnight. But you’re not alone anymore. You have people who care about you. Mark does care about you, and I know it’s hard to trust that. But you don’t have to carry this weight on your own.”

Eve wiped her eyes, feeling a mixture of relief and sorrow. She looked at Y/N, her eyes searching for something. “I never told anyone about my dad. Not like this. I’ve always kept it inside.”

Y/N smiled gently, her eyes warm with understanding. “I’m glad you trusted me with it. And if you ever want to talk more about it, I’m here. Not as your teacher for meditation, but as a friend. I’ll always listen, Eve.”

Eve’s breath caught, a soft sob escaping her as she nodded, overwhelmed by the kindness Y/N was offering. “I’d like that,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I… I think I need a friend more than anything right now.”

Y/N shifted her position, moving closer to Eve. “Then you’ve got one. You don’t have to go through this alone anymore.”

Eve smiled, the weight of her pent-up emotions finally starting to lift, even if just a little. “Thank you, Y/N. I didn’t know I needed this, but… I really do.”

As they sat together, Eve felt a sense of peace she hadn’t realized she’d been craving. For the first time in a long while, she felt like she could breathe without the burden of her past holding her back. And for the first time, she truly understood that healing didn’t have to be a solitary journey.

As the weeks went by, Y/N became a constant presence in Eve’s life—a steady, calming force amidst the storm of emotions that had often overwhelmed her. What began as a professional relationship through meditation evolved into something far deeper. Eve found herself turning to Y/N not only for guidance during their meditation sessions but also for moments of vulnerability and self-reflection.

Y/N’s gentle nature and unwavering support made it easier for Eve to open up about things she had never spoken of before. Each conversation felt like a weight being lifted from her shoulders. The more Eve allowed herself to trust Y/N, the more she realized just how much of her own pain she had been carrying—how much of it she had kept hidden for years.

One evening, after a particularly long day of training and team missions, Eve found herself standing outside Y/N’s door once again. She hadn’t planned on talking, but something had been gnawing at her all day. Mark had been distant, and Eve could feel the strain in their relationship growing. Her old fears of abandonment resurfaced, and it hurt more than she cared to admit.

Y/N opened the door with a knowing smile, as if she’d been expecting Eve.

“Hey,” Eve greeted, her voice tired but warm.

“Hey, Eve,” Y/N replied softly. “Come in. You look like you’ve had a long day.”

Eve stepped inside, the familiar, calming atmosphere of Y/N’s room immediately easing her tension. The soft glow of candles and the faint scent of lavender filled the air. It was always like this—Y/N’s space felt like an oasis, a refuge from the chaos of the outside world.

“I don’t know… I just can’t seem to shake this feeling,” Eve said, sitting down on the cushion across from Y/N. “Mark… he’s been acting distant. And I keep thinking about all the things he’s dealing with, but I don’t know how to help him. I feel like I’m losing him, like he’s slipping away.”

Y/N sat down beside her, her voice calm and soothing. “It’s okay, Eve. Relationships go through rough patches, especially when there’s so much stress and so many outside pressures. It’s hard to be fully present when there’s so much on your mind, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about you.”

Eve sighed, the weight of her concerns heavy in her chest. “I don’t know if I’m good enough for him anymore. I know I’ve been pushing him away, but I’m scared of being hurt again. I’ve done it before. I did it with Rex, and now I’m doing it with Mark. I don’t want to, but I can’t help it.”

Y/N nodded, her gaze understanding. “You’re not alone in that fear, Eve. We all carry baggage from the past—things we’re afraid will repeat, things we don’t know how to let go of. But that doesn’t mean you’re not worthy of love or trust. You are.”

Eve blinked, surprised by the sincerity in Y/N’s voice. “You really think so?”

“Yes,” Y/N said firmly. “You deserve to be loved and supported, just like anyone else. And it’s okay to have doubts, but you have to remember that not everyone will repeat the same mistakes. Mark’s not Rex, and he’s not going to abandon you the way you’ve been abandoned before. It’s just hard for you to see that because of everything you’ve been through.”

Tears welled up in Eve’s eyes again, but this time, it wasn’t from the fear of being hurt—it was from the relief of being seen, of having someone truly understand her pain. “I wish I could believe that,” she whispered.

Y/N reached over and gently took her hand, squeezing it. “You will, Eve. But it’s going to take time. And it’s okay to lean on people while you figure things out. You don’t have to carry everything on your own.”

Eve smiled, her heart lightening just a little. “Thank you, Y/N. I don’t think I’d be getting through this without you.”

Y/N smiled back, her eyes warm. “That’s what friends are for.”

Over time, the bond between them grew stronger. Eve found herself confiding in Y/N more and more, whether it was about her fears regarding Mark, her struggles with her own self-worth, or even the frustrations she had with her family. Y/N listened without judgment, offering advice when needed but mostly just providing a safe space for Eve to express herself.

One night, as they sat together after a particularly emotional session, Eve let out a shaky breath. “I feel like I’m always trying to be strong for everyone. For Mark, for the team. But sometimes I just want to break down and not have to worry about holding it all together.”

Y/N gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to always be strong, Eve. It’s okay to let go and lean on others. You’re human, not a superhero. You don’t have to carry the world on your shoulders.”

Eve’s eyes softened as she looked at Y/N, a tear slipping down her cheek. “I don’t think anyone’s ever told me that before.”

“I’m telling you now,” Y/N replied. “You’re allowed to be vulnerable. You’re allowed to ask for help. And you don’t have to do it all on your own.”

The next day, Eve found herself walking into Mark’s room, her mind clearer than it had been in a long time. She wasn’t perfect, and she wasn’t free from the fears that still lingered in the back of her mind, but she felt more at peace with herself.

Mark looked up from his desk, his expression softening when he saw her. “Hey, Eve.”

“Hey,” she said, her voice calmer than usual. “I’ve been thinking. About us. About everything.”

Mark raised an eyebrow, sensing the shift in her demeanor. “What’s on your mind?”

Eve took a deep breath, then walked over to him, sitting down beside him. “I’ve been pushing you away, I know. But I think… I think I’ve been afraid of being hurt again. I’ve been holding onto all this fear, but I’m ready to let it go. I want to trust you, Mark. And I’m sorry if I made you feel like I didn’t.”

Mark’s expression softened, and he placed a hand on her arm. “Eve, you don’t have to apologize. I get it. I’m not perfect either, but I care about you. And I’m here, okay?”

Eve smiled, a genuine, soft smile. “Okay. I’m here too.”

Later that evening, as Eve sat in her room, she thought about how far she had come. She had started this journey with walls built high around her heart, but now, with Y/N’s support, she was learning to tear those walls down—brick by brick. She wasn’t there yet, but she was closer than she had ever been. And for the first time in a long time, she felt like she wasn’t alone in this battle. Y/N had become not just a mentor but a true friend, someone Eve could count on no matter what. And for that, Eve was more grateful than words could express. Little did she know how quickly that would change.

That night, Mark couldn’t shake the remnants of the nightmare that had plagued him for hours. His mind was swirling with images of Angstrom Levy standing over the lifeless bodies of his mother and brother. The guilt gnawed at him, intensifying with every passing second. How could he protect the people he loved if his own powers made them more vulnerable? The more he thought about it, the more desperate he felt.

Unable to sleep, he found himself standing outside Y/N’s door, her presence always a calming relief. He knocked softly, his heart racing, and when she opened the door, her eyes softened at the sight of him.

“Mark?” Y/N’s voice was gentle, laced with concern. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t need to say anything. She could feel the turmoil in his mind, the chaos that had taken root there. Mark stepped inside without a word, his gaze distant. She immediately led him to her meditation space, where the air felt cooler, calming, and welcoming.

“You’ve been fighting the weight of the world, haven’t you?” she asked softly, her eyes searching his face. Mark sat down slowly, sinking into the cushions as if the weight of the world was too much to carry on his own.

“I keep seeing them,” Mark said quietly, his voice strained. “My mom… my brother. In my nightmares, Angstrom’s the one who kills them. I can’t stop him. I can’t protect them.”

Y/N sat beside him, her presence grounding him. She didn’t rush to offer advice or empty reassurances. She just listened, her steady silence giving him the space to vent his fears.

Mark let out a deep breath, his hands gripping the fabric of his pants. “What if I’m not strong enough to protect them? What if… what if I fail them? What if I can’t save them when it matters most?”

Y/N gently placed a hand on his shoulder, turning him slightly so they were facing one another. “Mark, you’re literally invincible. Nothing will happen to you. You are stronger than anyone could imagine.”

He shook his head, a deep frown pulling at his face. “That’s the problem, though. I’m invincible, but they’re not. They can get hurt, and they can’t recover like I can. I… I’m afraid of failing them, of not being able to stop Angstrom in time.”

Her heart ached for him. The weight of his responsibility was suffocating, and even though he had the power to protect, it only seemed to magnify his fear. “I understand, Mark,” she said softly, squeezing his hand. “Angstrom is still out there, and you don’t know what he’s planning. But for now, you need to be with your family. You need to enjoy the moments with them. Because when the time comes again, you’ll be ready to stop him—once and for all.”

Mark took a shaky breath, his eyes locking onto hers as he processed her words. She wasn’t telling him to stop worrying; she wasn’t giving him some easy answer. She was giving him permission to pause, to find some peace amidst the chaos.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. His hand found hers, and for a moment, it was as if all the doubt and the fear he had been carrying didn’t matter. It was just the two of them, here and now.

Slowly, his gaze softened, and before Y/N could say another word, he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a kiss that was gentle at first but grew more desperate, more needy as the weight of the moment pressed on him. He pulled away slightly, his forehead resting against hers.

“Mark,” Y/N whispered, her voice trembling just a little. “What about Eve?”

The question hung in the air, a reminder of the tangled emotions that were always just beneath the surface. Mark froze, his heart skipping a beat. He had been avoiding that question, pushing it away, pretending it didn’t exist when he was with Y/N.

“I…” Mark started, his words faltering as the weight of the truth became undeniable. “I forget about her when I’m with you.”

Y/N smiled, a dark, knowing smile that spoke volumes. Her eyes glinted with something that sent a shiver down Mark’s spine. “Good,” she whispered.

The single word was enough to send a surge of tension through the room. Mark stared at her, his breath hitching as the implications of her words settled in. He had crossed a line, one he couldn’t easily erase. Eve was still in the picture, but in this moment, with Y/N close, he couldn’t deny that she had a hold on him. And it was undeniable.

Y/N’s hand slid to his jaw, gently tilting his face up to hers. Her eyes searched his, deep and unwavering, as if she were reading him in ways he didn’t even understand himself.

“I know you’re conflicted, Mark,” she murmured, her thumb lightly tracing his lower lip. “But you don’t have to choose right now. Just be here, with me, in this moment. No one else matters right now.”

Mark nodded slowly, his chest tightening. “I don’t know how this happened… I don’t know how I went from being with Eve to…” He trailed off, unsure of how to finish the thought.

Y/N silenced him with another kiss, this one lingering longer, more possessive, as if claiming what was hers. When she pulled away, her voice was softer, but there was an edge to it now. “You don’t need to worry about that. We’ll figure it out, one step at a time.”

Mark was still caught in the whirlwind of emotions and confusion, but for the first time in a long while, he felt at peace. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to stop thinking about the responsibilities, the burdens, and the pain. All that mattered was Y/N. She was there—calm, steady, the only constant in his life.

He leaned in again, kissing her with a desperation that spoke louder than any words he could say. The kiss deepened, and Mark lost himself in the moment, the weight of his worries and responsibilities momentarily fading away. Y/N’s presence enveloped him, grounding him in a way that nothing else could. The uncertainty and fear that had been consuming him for days seemed to melt away with each touch, each breath they shared. It felt like an escape—a fleeting respite from everything that waited for him outside this space.

But as the kiss slowed and they pulled apart, the reality of their situation crashed back down on Mark. He could feel the pulse of his conflict racing through his chest. His mind screamed at him that what he was doing was wrong, but another part of him—the part that had always felt like a burdened hero—was telling him that he deserved this, deserved to be with someone who made him feel seen, someone who understood the chaos in his mind without judgment.

Y/N’s gaze softened as she looked up at him, sensing the shift in his mood. “Mark,” she said softly, her voice a whisper that made his name feel like an anchor in the storm of his emotions. “You don’t have to explain. I know what you’re feeling.”

He swallowed hard, his heart racing. “I don’t know what’s happening, Y/N. I can’t think straight. I’ve never… I’ve never felt like this before. I care about Eve, but when I’m with you, everything else just… disappears.”

Y/N placed a hand on his chest, her touch gentle but firm. “It’s okay, Mark. You don’t need to have all the answers right now. Just… just be with me, in this moment. Let everything else wait.”

Mark closed his eyes, letting out a slow breath as he leaned his forehead against hers. He felt her warmth, her calm, and he wanted nothing more than to stay in this space with her—untouched by the chaos of his world.

But deep down, he knew he couldn’t ignore Eve forever. He couldn’t keep pretending that this wasn’t complicated, that there weren’t people he cared about who were involved in all of this. “I can’t just forget about Eve,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “I care about her, too. I can’t… I can’t hurt her.”

Y/N’s fingers traced the edge of his jaw as she tilted his face toward hers, her eyes locking with his. “Mark,” she said softly, her voice a soothing balm to his frayed nerves. “You’re not a villain for having feelings. But you also can’t ignore them. The truth will come out, eventually. And you’ll have to face it. But for now, you’re here, with me. And I’m not going anywhere.” He let her words sink in, and for a moment, he just stared at her, searching her eyes for any trace of doubt or hesitation. But there was nothing—just a quiet, unwavering certainty in her gaze.

As much as it pained him to admit it, he was already too far gone. He couldn’t pretend he wasn’t drawn to her, that he didn’t crave the way she made him feel. With Y/N, everything was easier. The weight of his responsibility as Invincible seemed lighter, the burden of his powers less suffocating. But at the same time, he knew he was on a dangerous path.

“Mark,” Y/N said, pulling him out of his thoughts, “I know you’re torn. But you don’t have to carry everything by yourself. You don’t have to have it all figured out right now. Take the time you need. Let yourself breathe. Let yourself feel.”

He nodded, his chest tight. It wasn’t an answer, but it was a step toward peace—at least for the moment. He couldn’t promise her everything, but he could give her this—his time, his attention, his presence. And in return, Y/N offered him a sense of solace, a brief reprieve from the never-ending cycle of stress and responsibility. But as he sat there, holding her, his thoughts still raced. How long could he keep this up? How long could he hide the truth from Eve, from everyone?

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. Y/N smiled softly, running her fingers through his hair. “Anytime, Mark. Anytime.”

She could feel the weight of his doubts, the unresolved conflict deep within him. But for now, she would let him find solace in the one place he could. In her arms. For Mark, the night felt like an oasis—a fleeting moment of calm in the midst of a storm that was bound to come crashing back sooner or later.

⸻

The next morning, Mark woke up to the sound of birds outside and the soft light filtering through Y/N’s window. He had fallen asleep on her couch, his head resting on her lap. He blinked, trying to clear the haze of sleep from his mind, but the reality of the previous night came rushing back. He felt a pang of guilt—he had betrayed Eve’s trust, even though he hadn’t officially made any decisions. The conflict inside him hadn’t gone away. It still lingered, a constant reminder that he couldn’t keep running from the truth.

Y/N was already awake, sitting cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed as she meditated. Mark couldn’t help but admire the way she always seemed so centered, so at peace with herself, even in the face of everything that had happened.

“Morning,” he said quietly, breaking the silence.

Y/N opened her eyes, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Morning. Sleep well?” Mark nodded, though he didn’t feel entirely rested. He stood up, stretching. “I did, actually. I don’t think I’ve had a peaceful night like that in weeks.”

She tilted her head slightly, sensing his mood. “You still have a lot on your mind.”

“Yeah,” he admitted, his voice low. “I’m just… I’m not sure where to go from here.”

Y/N stood and walked over to him, her gaze steady and understanding. “It’s okay, Mark. You’ll figure it out. Just take things one step at a time.” Mark met her gaze, trying to reconcile the feelings inside him. “I don’t know if I can keep going like this.”

“You don’t have to. But you do have to decide what matters most to you,” she replied softly.

He swallowed hard, realizing that she was right. As much as he wanted to pretend everything would be fine, he knew it wouldn’t be. The choices he made now would have lasting consequences.

And somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice whispered that he couldn’t keep running from the truth forever.

⸻

Later that day, Mark found himself walking back to his apartment, his steps heavy with the burden of the decisions he still had to make. He knew he couldn’t continue down this path with Y/N without confronting his feelings for Eve. He couldn’t avoid the reality of his situation any longer.

As he opened the door to his apartment, the sight of Eve waiting for him on the couch made his stomach tighten. She looked up when he entered, her eyes tired, but hopeful. “Mark,” she said softly. “We need to talk.”

PART TWO

[totalswag]

unexpected surprise ⎯⎯ chapter one!

authors note first chapter of my series omg!

summary in which you're cautious when Drew Starkey sneaks into your DMs following a casual encounter at a party. he is well-known for his role in a popular tv show and movies—has millions of fans. the two of you start communicating quietly, slipping minutes between his hectic schedule and your social media responsibilities. the secrecy adds to the excitement, but as the media learns about your link, it becomes increasingly difficult to hide.

series taglist

You are well-known in the social media world. You've been given the opportunity to build close relationships with your supporters—to develop a family and be yourself. Features everything from trip vlogs to fashion hauls, insightful conversations, and humorous content. Your work has built up a big following, with which businesses compete to cooperate. However, you value privacy and provide just the most basic information to your supporters.

Eight o'clock rolls around. Stella gets to your apartment dressed and ready for the night. Before heading out, you both walked to the kitchen to get your pre-game drinks made. Music playing from your speaker sitting on the table in the living room⎯keeping the energy high. 

Tonight you are wearing a jeans with a black tank top with a red heart in the middle along with a cute jacket. Hair and makeup was a little different for the night. Of course, you needed your earrings and twi necklaces. You felt good about yourself.

"No joke, I've been rummaging through my closet for a good outfit," you say as you place the cups down. "I'm not sure why I'm having this strange feeling, but," pause, "who knows what it is about," shaking your head.

"Maybe you'll find your future lover?" she exclaimed dramatically, twisting the cap of the tequila bottle. She put the shots into two tiny glasses. "Are you sure you're ready for this?" she mocked, offering you a shot.

"How can I refuse" you say, smirking and clinking your glasses together.

Stella has been your best friend for seven years, and you are forever grateful to her. She's the type of friend that would drop everything in a moment to be with you and ensure you have a nice time. Her quirky characteristics will make you giggle until your abs hurt.

The drive to the party took twenty minutes. By the time Stella and you get to the neighborhood gate and are let inside, she has taken a few turns and there are several cars parked on the side. Fortunately, Stella found the right spot near the house.

The house was already alive with energy⎯music blared through the air, and groups of people huddled around in conversation, drinks in hand. Stella and you strolled through the crowd of people, her enthusiasm clear. "There they are!" She waved to a small gathering near the kitchen.

One of the girls in the group, carrying a drink, looked over her shoulder, her face lighting up with a smile as she noticed you both going over. "Oh my gosh, so glad you could make it!" Her voice was full of enthusiasm, “I’m Leah and this is Jake.”

"Nice to meet you both, I'm Y/N, and thank you for inviting us," you say politely, shaking each of their hands in a soft gesture. 

As the night continued on, you and Stella stayed by each other. Got the chance to introduce yourselves to new faces around the party and strike conversations. Saw a few familiar faces you’ve worked with before too. Leah and Jake were extremely amazing, keeping you laughing non-stop with their jokes.

And then he walked in.

Drew Starkey.

You spotted him right away⎯tall, effortlessly calm, and commanding without trying. He was deep in conversation with a few people before making his way to where you stood, drink in hand. You weren’t expecting him to actually walk up to you either. 

Before you could blink, he’s standing in front of you, “hey, I don’t think we’ve ever met before, I’m Drew” putting his hand out, smiling softly.

Drew Starkey is talking to me? You think to yourself.

“Y/N,” you carefully say, maintaining eye contact.

Conversation begins between you two. It felt so usual for you, and you didn't feel nervous at all⎯you felt serene, as you put it. The way he focused his attention on you and not anybody else made your tummy flutter⎯as if you two were the only ones in the room. Drew was easy to talk to.

Something about the way his eyes lingered suggested he was intrigued. The conversation between you two was comfortable and natural—even when people walked around the party, he remained, inquiring about what you did and why you came here.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what do you do?” he carefully asks⎯it was obvious he didn’t want to go overboard.

Chuckling softly, running your hands through your hair, “I guess you could say I’m in the entertainment industry” you playfully hint, grinning. 

Raising his eyebrows in amusement, tilting his head back, “looks like I’m gonna have to find out another time then?” he asks with confidence⎯you like it.

Before he left your side, he pulled out his phone. “What’s your Instagram?”

You told him, watching as he followed you without hesitation. “Guess I have some catching up to do.”

Later that night, when you got back to your apartment, your phone buzzed with a notification. Stella's eyes nearly fell out their sockets when she glanced at your screen.

drewstarkey followed you.

drewstarkey sent you a message.

This was going to be interesting.

"Shut the fuck up" you both gasped.

series taglist

@akobx @ethanthequeefqueen

[anisangeldust]

Religion in your lips 𝜗𝜚⋆

Summary: A turning point had been established in your relationship with the president. Or several..

Part: ← ii →

Warnings: obsessive behavior, stalking, creepy/perv Coryo, misogyny, masturbation (m), wet dreams, emotional abuse, manipulation, mentions of grooming, allusions to murder, objectification.

A/N: I need him expeditiously. Also I’m so sorry that this is so late! I’m working as fast as I can!

A dastardly crime you had unwillingly committed, you had began to not only wedge yourself into the life of the president, you also absentmindedly plagued his whole being. One week, one week of work and you were already a problem.

Coriolanus couldn’t help the way you became his muse, you occupied every free and taken crevice of his mind, yet you were so blissfully ignorant of the predator so carefully stalking your move; waiting for a prime opportunity to pounce. The President was a smart man however, he knew that patience was key, and if he wanted to have you at all, he needed to be careful.

Everyday he’d watch from his office as you took your lunchtime break, sitting within the gardens of the presidential estate and chatting with the gardeners. Taking notice of which flowers you seemed to be drawn to, as to which he decided he’d get you a bouquet of your favorite under the feign guise of thankfulness. Testing the waters he thought.

So Coriolanus couldn’t help but feel satisfied when he saw the small smile on your face. Was it that easy to impress you? Nevertheless, he felt immense satisfaction when you tucked the little note he wrote into your front pocket and took one of the flowers to place in your hair.

The young president swore he’d never care for another again, yet here he stood, in lust with a simple worker, and sooner or later he was going to get what was his. To get you.

——

“Gypsophila is a highly toxic flower, deadly if consumed. But it is very pretty.” You rambled to the president as he sat sipping tea. The most beautiful sight you were, so full of life, so happy, oh how he craved to posses you; to destroy the youthful innocence you paraded like a trophy.

“Interesting indeed.” Coriolanus nodded, his gaze never leaving your perky chest and silky hair. A beat of comfortable silence passed when young Snow remembered his fiancée’s behavior, the dwindling aggravation now building up again. “And i’d like to apologize on behalf of my bride-to-be. She is a little shall I say.. enraging at times” He sighs and leans back.

“Worried I was not Coriolanus.” Your smile and innocent acceptance made him furious in a way. The need to sink his teeth into you was almost overwhelming. He wanted to cut you open and crawl inside your ribcage. This was a feeling he’d known never before, and he was positive it’ll linger for the rest of his natural life. Before you blessed him with your presence, he had yet to see someone so willing to do a good job, your aura was addicting.

“You know, I don’t really love her.” The words left Coriolanus’ lips before he could stop himself. He almost chuckled at the way your brows furrowed.

“My condolences? Why.. are you marrying her then?”

“You know, capital business.” He sighs and leans back. If only he had picked you! Such a scenario had swept through his mind many times since he’d met you. If only he could’ve waited. “Such a shame I choose such a…brat.” He scowled at the thoughts of his fiancée.

The look on your face was somewhere between shocked and startled. It was amusing how Coriolanus could tell you were biting your tongue to hold back your own thoughts on his future beloved.

“Allow me to not meddle in your personal business Coriolanus.. but I suppose if you want unsolicited advice, it’s never too late to change your mind. You’re already president. One called off marriage won’t kill you” your polite voice was so calming to the achy soul he possessed. The young Snow knew you had no idea of his intentions for you, and that thought was delicious.

“I appreciate your insight darling. I shall think about your words carefully. I fear you’re too smart for the position you hold at the moment.” He chuckles. You deserved the seat of First Lady, the title of his wife, do be the mother of his future kids, and it took every molecule of his being to hold back from expressing that desire.

Comfortable silence fell into the room, only the quiet scuffling of feet or sipping tea piercing the lack of noise. The thought of being so comfortable with a person was a concept so foreign to Coriolanus. the last person he was comfortable with had betrayed him, left him to die in the forest. Something about you, however, was different. His songbird didn’t see what she missed, she craved the wild life she had. You enjoyed order, respected Panem, you’d never leave him like she did. You’d never leave him like she did. A pang of vulnerability struck the president’s chest. Could he really trust you? Would you betray him like she had? No, you wouldn’t, because he could control you. And you’d let him.

If the want wasn’t already clear enough in its mind, that moment solidified it. He had to get rid of Livia. He had to have you. and then his face falls in the same breath. A foreign thought crossed his mind at the same time though. What if you already had someone? The idea made him seethe. How dare someone else have what’s his? He’d ask you. No need to jump to conclusions right?

“Darling. You’ve never mentioned any kind of boyfriend? Don’t mind my prying, I’m just curious.” He says in masterly hidden mock confusion.

“Oh uh.. I was dumped actually. Right before I took this job. He said he needed to focus on himself or whatever else they all say” his words adding a small flush to your cheeks.

Good. This was good. No, this was excellent. Single and vulnerable. Ready for the perfect man to save you from your pain and heartbreak, ready for a strong and handsome man like him to make you feel worthy again. He couldn’t have written this better himself.

“Oh darling, I’m so sorry. He sounds like a dunce, you’re clearly too good for him anyway.” Coriolanus smiles, opening up the door of careful manipulation.

A bloom of pink popped into your cheeks at his words. “Thank you Mr. President. I’m thankful we’re over. And I appreciate your compliment.” Your murmur back was almost funny. And the attempt to hide the flush on your face with turning and dusting a random surface was funnier to him.

“You’re welcome darling.” His short response and wink made your heart beat visibly faster, but he chose just to let you do your job and not bring it up. Mentally he was kicking himself. For having you so close yet unreachable. How was he supposed to get rid of his bride-to-be? It would be a scandal, one too big to cover. The Cardew family would stop at nothing to tear him down if he left her, he’d lose all he had. Amidst his thinking, he stood up and pleaded against the bookshelf you were dusting. “You can tell me if Livia says something rude. You’re a maid, yes, but you’re still a person. Don’t be scared to let me know if she’s making you uncomfortable.” He cooed smoothly.

“Will do. Thank you Mr. President. Though she isn’t that bad. We just got off on the wrong foot. But of course I’ll tell you if she does anything.” Your cheery attitude was refreshing. A light in a dull atmosphere.

“Thank you darling.” Coriolanus kissed your hand gently before leaving. What a gentleman.

——

Damn you and your little dress. Damn you and the fabric that clung to your curves so nice. How could he focus on anything? His eyes darted around his office, desperate to find something to focus on, and find something he did. A rag you’d left. A rag that you clipped onto your skirt to wipe off your forehead occasionally. Immediately, Coriolanus stood up and took the white fabric in his hands. It belonged to the manor, it was soft and good quality, and upon further inspection, it had a small stain on it. Your sweat.

His pants tightened as he brought the fabric up to his nose and took a whiff, your perfume lingered on the threads, teasing him. The thought of using Livia crossed his mind, after all, what was she good for if not as a tight cunt? But it felt almost insulting to you to fuck Livia in your place. The last time he did it left a sour taste in his mouth. He couldn’t just take you, not yet, he needed more time before he made his move. Left with no other options, Coriolanus locked his office with a click and sat down in his chair.

He freed his erections from the confinement of his pants and boxers, softly stroking his hardening cock with the marked cloth. The sight of his pre mixed with the little bit of sweat had him going crazy. The need for you was insatiable, he couldn’t help himself as he pumped his hand up and down his cock, stopping to tease the fat tip with his new prized possession. He brought the tag up to his nose to smell your scent again, pumping his dick as he inhaled the fumes. He came to the thought of spreading you open like a flower and indulging in your soaking pussy. He was only lightly embarrassed when his mind came to. Though it was drowned out quickly by the satisfaction of his orgasm. He needed you badly, and he was more determined than ever to get you.

——

Over the next few days he gave you small gifts, chocolate, a bracelet, an up in pay, all because he “felt bad you got broken up with” of course. He was a compassionate man, of course he cared about you! How dare you think he was just going this to get you to trust him and tell him more about your private life? He was. It was a little tiring having his other staff ask you the questions and then report back to him, but the smile and flush on your cheeks made it worth it. And his attempts weren’t in vain, the longer he pined, the more you told him, the more ammunition he had to get you to say more; a deliciously vicious cycle.

The more you trusted him, the more you told him about anything Livia did, He expected Livia to be an asshole. He knew that it was only a matter of time before she was rude enough that you said something. What Coriolanus didn’t expect, was for his fiancée to physically harm you. And especially not right in front of him. The soft thud and following mewl of pain from outside his office had caught his attention. He got up and went to the source of the sound, only to find his fiancée standing over your crumpled form.

“I thought your job was to clean? How are you supposed to get anything done if you’re such a klutz? Oh come on, that didn’t hurt” she taunted as you tried to get up off the floor. It was clear she pushed you, or tripped you in some way, that didn’t matter to Coriolanus though, she hurt you. And he was pissed.

“Hey, what the fuck happened here?” He demanded, anger pointed 100% at Livia, though the anger made you wince.

Livia turned around immediately, acting like she had found and helped you. “Oh It’s all okay Coryo, she was just cleaning and she fell, nothing to worry about, I was just making sure she’s alright!” Livia clutched her chest, gently helping you up. Coriolanus didn’t believe it for a second.

“Really? Is that true?” He said as he turned to you, eyes squinted in disbelief

You felt put on the spot, he’d be mad if you lied, but you couldn’t just tell him she did it and run the risk of her hating you more than she already did, so the former seemed best. “Y-yeah. She, she did find me. I just fell” you muttered sheepishly.

Coriolanus knew you lied, and that angered him, But he also knew that you would’ve told the truth if Livia wasn’t there. The knowledge that you were going to tell him everything after was comforting enough for him to huff and sigh “I’m sorry. I just don’t appreciate dawdling.” He sailed in an eerily calm tone. Livia snickered like she’d won something, and Coriolanus forced himself to just keep walking and not shout at his fiancée.

Young Snow was standing and peering out of the window in his office when he heard you open the door and walk in. He heard you gently start to clean the many books and surfaces that lined the room. Coriolanus liked that about you, you never spoke to him unless he spoke to you first, and it turned him on.

“My anger was not directed towards you.” He started “though I’m slightly miffed that you lied to me. Tell me what she actually did” he turned around to look at you, his face stern yet inviting as he waited for your explanation of the events.

He noticed your slight gulp and timid frame as you put down your rag to look at him. “She uh.. I was wiping down lamps in one of the lounges when.. she- she pushed me into a table, and a p-picture frame landed on my head..” your mumbles and stutters would have been cute if he was pissed off. The nerve that woman had, and to play victim too? He was just about at his wits end with her.

“It’s okay darling. I believe you. And I’m quite annoyed that she would abuse staff like that. She’s jealous that you’re better than she is, that’s all” he coos and walks towards you. He gently puts his large hands on your arms “you’re doing great. You’re the best maid I could’ve asked for. Now go finish your job for today. I’ll get you something for the inconvenience and I’ll talk with her.” He said as he leaned down and gently kissed your cheek.

——

“I don’t appreciate you abusing staff Livia.” His voiced was stern and unapologetic, the opposite of how he approached you, as he entered his quarters of the presidential manor.

“What could you possibly be talking about Coryo? If it’s about the maid then I told you, she fell and I found her. It’s not my fault she’s a klutz.” Livia scoffed at the mention of you.

Coriolanus slammed his hand on the wall, his eyes full of fire. “I didn’t give you permission to speak woman. Shes been working here 3 weeks and she’s ‘fallen’ twice. And both times she was conveniently in your surroundings. If it happens again I’ll be very, very disappointed.” He says through gritted teeth and goes to walk away but stops. “And my name isn’t Coryo. Its Coriolanus. I don’t care that you’re my fiancée, you’ll treat me with respect.” He demanded before pushing past her to take a much needed shower.

Falling into the clutches of morpheus came easier than expected that night. In the realm of dreams, Coriolanus' unconscious mind becomes a canvas of desire and longing. Your delicate form becomes the centerpiece of his erotic fantasy, envisioned sprawled across his desk, the epitome of seductive submission. As the dream unfolds, his touches and caresses paint vivid imagery, a private symphony of pleasure that reflects his deepening admiration and desire for you. Coriolanus' dream grows even more intense as you become increasingly sensual and inviting, giving yourself to him so fully and passionately. The boundaries of his imagination blur, and he loses himself in the intoxicating pleasure of your presence. He moans and groans, overtaken by the overwhelming sensations of desire and satisfaction. He whispers your name gently, his voice filled with both reverence and need

When his eyes cracked open to the rays of morning sunlight, he was both grateful for the opportunity of another day with you, and irked that he woke up to the sleeping body of his useless fiancée.

——

Coriolanus started looking forward to when you’d come into his office to clean and chat. What was once cold small talk had morphed into you telling him everything about yourself. How you were a recent academy graduate, you were open to but didn’t have any plans for University, you had a white cat named Pearl that you love like a child, and you preferred tea to coffee. All facts that seemed so mundane about others were so tantalizing coming from your lips.

“So this job is only until you decide on what you want to do? That’s a shame. You’re very good at it. Replacing you wouldn’t be fun. But I’m proud of you for working and earning money. Not many people do that in the capitol. Especially not those who come from rich backgrounds like you do.” Coriolanus said with feigned nonchalance as he absentmindedly stirred his tea.

“I’m sure there’s plenty of people who could clean the mansion just as well, if not better than I” your tone was sweet and soft, you’d never understand. No one could ever be you, you were too important, how would he survive without you? He wouldn’t.

Coriolanus stood up and chuckled “I’m sure, but none of them are as kind, or sweet, or as beautiful as you” he coos and tilts your chin up to look at him “none of them could captivate me like you have” he murmurs. This was a now or never moment. He couldn’t go back now, and with your big eyes preening up at him he couldn’t resist. He gently leaned down and captured your lips in his own, gently cradling your head and holding your face.

“Coriolanus..” you murmured and he gently broke away with a small smirk playing at the edges of his lips, his gaze cast down to look at your wide and surprised expression.

“Shhh.. I know you wanted that too darling, tell me to stop and i will” he mumbles as he captures your lips in his own again, gently waiting for you to accept the kiss. A wave of satisfaction washes over him as he fells you relax and accept the kiss, he grins against your lips as he feels you hands on his chest.

Your lips tasted of a sweetness he had never experienced, how he was meant to pretend he didn’t want you was a problem for the future, right now all that mattered where your lips and his desires. Getting rid of Livia may have to happen sooner than he anticipated.

Taglist!

@daenerysqueenofhearts @caramelandvenus @yoursrosie @wearemadeofstardust0 @kay-lla @mrsriddlenott @sleekervae @ianales @qoopeeya @arzua10 @matcha-muses @jitsuki12 @nojeicintjzonfhw @poppyflower-22 @lustforrush @jefferson-in-the-tardis @aurabambi @royal-sunflower @rovckwells @rubys-rere @iydImsydxoxo @lucyisdoingfine @nyxxoxo @paradisepoisons @miserableblood @poppyflower-22 @anonymous14261703170309 @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @sqct @anakinluvr4ever (tell me if I missed you and you’ll be added🫶)

[anellopeao3]

Little insight of my absolute favourite official art ever made and the meaning behind it (imo).

Let's start with this: it did not come out of nowhere. It splits an important interaction in two, a fundamental turning point for their relationship: Kou deciding to open up to Nene after the Severance (and the aftermath of that).

When Kou methaphorically points at his and Nene's very similar apples to asks a very important question.

"What are you going to do.../ What do you want to do?"

Did you think of a solution?

Arc after arc, Kou and Nene were proven times and times again that you can't just wish for the supernatural you care about to stick by your side. Because something always happens. Because they'll find a way to always slip from your fingers. Because Nene and Kou have the exact same kind of apple in hand: a supernatural they can't be with, not by the rules of their world. Hanako is the apple, Mitsuba is the apple.

And Kou has made his decision already.

There is no time left for the perfect solution to be figured out. Kou can't wait anymore for things to get fixed the right way. Of course, Kou aspires and will always try to reach for Absolute Victory. Why settle for less? Why giving up when something can still be done?

But that has no importance if his future with Mitsuba isn't secured first.

The taste of honey of the forbidden garden at reach is what Nene and Kou have in common; their sinful desire of what is forbidden to know the flavor of. And Kou's stare is anything but doubtful when he comes closer to take the first bite.

He knows a way to reach the apple, now. He knows how to get Mitsuba, in the end. A road with no way back, finally (in fact, a bite is enough to get banished from Eden, you can't undo it, the same way someone who died can't turn back to a human, not by their world's rules, at least.)

Because she has to have thought about it as well, right? A solution to their desires. A way to secure their happiness, no matter what happens around them, to them. They are the same, after all, so she will understand.

And so he tells her.

The art is placed here, cutting in half a question from its response: Kou and Nene are back to back, and while he looks straight ahead... Nene looks doubtfully in our direction, the apple right to her face, ...no intention to eat it yet. And that's it.

He doesn't really give her a chance at all to properly respond. To decide. To understand.

She answers the question with another question, with doubts and concern, and Kou not only doesn't have an answer for her but expected something totally different; he expected her to be like him, to understand instantly, without further questions. Because he didn't need any of those.

The one time Kou opens up to her ends as quick as it started: Nene answers wrongly and so he closes her off again, because he wasn't looking for her actual opinion, he was looking for her comforting presence next to him while taking the bite that he had already choosen to take.

I think it isn't just a coincidence that Kou went and faced all of his rotten desires right after this, in the Red House. Maybe Adam and Eve discovered the feeling of shame after the first bite, but Kou is facing it as if, by willingness alone, he had already set his faults in stone and is already paying the consequences of his sin.

[astrobydalia]

Predicting the chart of your future spouse

First of all, thank you to @harmoonix for inspiring me to make this post!

I wanted to share some key thing I've observed that you should look out for in your Groom (5129) and Briede (19029) persona charts if you want to know what placements your future spouse might have. Look at Groom PC if you're looking to marry a man and Briede PC if you're looking to marry a woman. These asteroids move very slowly so in order to get more insight about your person looking at these charts is important

For other options you can apply these to Descendent PC and to a lesser extent Juno PC, those can ring true as well, but the main research of this post is focused on Groom/briede

These are patterns I've extracted based on my research analyzing the charts of married couples. Presented in no particular order

.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

work by astrobydalia

The Ascendant/1st house/Placement of asc ruler

… in the groom/briede pc. This I’ve seen correlated mainly to the Sun or Asc of spouse since it is indicative of their main personality traits and characteristics. It can also relate to other prominent placements/energies of spouse

Hailey Bieber has Scorpio ASC in her Groom PC and Justin Bieber is a Scorpio ASC

Justin Bieber has Sagittarius ASC in his Briede PC and Hailey is a Sagittarius ASC

One of my clients had Cancer ASC on her Groom PC and her husband was a water ASC with moon in his 1st house

Blake Lively has Sagittarius ASC with Uranus, Saturn and Neptune 1st house in her Groom PC and her husband Ryan is a mutable rising. It’s worth mentioning the he’s also known for having a bold, eccentric (Uranus) and humorous personality, he's also older than her (Saturn) and he's from a different country (sag). He also has Sagittarius IC and Venus

Joanne Woodward has Virgo Asc in her Groom pc with its ruler falling in Libra and her husband Paul Newman was an earth rising with Venus and Mercury conjunct his Asc

.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

Moon placement

this one is so important! 9/10 your spouse's moon will have similar qualities as the moon in your groom/briede pc or spouse might have placements in this sign

Most common case in my research: spouse’s moon is in the same element or modality as the moon in the Groom/Bride pc

Other example is a client of mine had Cancer moon in his Briede pc and his wife had Moon-Jupiter conjunction in her chart (jupiter expands moon’s qualities and is also exalted in cancer)

.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

Part of Fortune/Vertex

I’ve seen these being a less literal indicative of actual placement but it does show prominent energies in spouse definitely, specially within the relationship

.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

Dignities

pay attention to this one!!! I’ve seen it being SO accurate! I’ve noticed that if a planet (particularly inner planet) is in good or bad dignity in your groom/briede pc, your fs will likely have that planet in one of its signs of domicile, exaltation, fall or detriment. This also makes that particular planet significant in your person’s chart (meaning it might be dominant, on the angles, in joy houses, etc)

Mila Kunis has Scorpio Mars (mars’ domicile) in her Groom PC and Ashton Kutcher is a Cancer Mars (mars’ detriment)

She also has Sun in Aries (sun’s exaltation) in her groom pc chart and Ashton in an Aquarius Sun (sun’s debilitation)

The client I mentioned above also had Aries Sun in his briede pc and his wife had her Sun in the 9th house (sun’s joy)

Blake Lively has Taurus Moon (moon’s exaltation) in her Groom PC and Ryan is a Scorpio Moon (moon’s detriment)

Grace Kelly had Libra Venus (venus domicile) in her Groom pc and her husband was a Taurus Venus (venus domicile)

.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

Angular houses

similar to the last point. The common consensus I’ve seen with this one is that if you have a certain planet in an angular house in the groom/briede pc, your spouse likely has that planet in an angular house too or that planet is significant in them

.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

Degrees

planets at critical degrees in your groom/briede pc can be significant or manifest quite literally in your person’s chart

.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

work by astrobydalia

[johanna-swann]

You know, sometimes I think we as a fandom completely misjudge Buck when it comes to romantic things. In fanon he's often depicted as this clueless guy who needs to be hit in the face with a pick-up line before he notices someone's advances, but then again he's a really thoughtful and attentive partner who talks about his own feelings freely once he gets into a relationship. And then I look at canon Buck and like. Yeah, no, this is not that.

Buck is really good at picking up on sexual / romantic tension. He flirts constantly and recognises when his flirting is reciprocated. That's how he landed the snake-lady in 1x01, it's how he knew Abby was down for phone sex (or at least wouldn't dump him over bringing it up), it's how he got with Taylor, etc. Buck is good at the flirting part. The only reason he was so awkward around Tommy was that for the first time ever the target of his advances was a man.

He's terrible at gauging where his (more serious) relationships are at though. I doubt that Abby ever thought she'd be with Buck forever. She cared about him, sure, but let's be realistic. I don't think she saw a future where she'd eventually marry him and settle down with him. Buck on the other hand was full on in love with her, waited months and months for her to come back even after she broke off contact. And the hot air balloon ride was a huge gesture, but did he think it through? What if there had been an emergency with Abby's mother while they were up in the air instead of immediately before?

With Taylor I don't think he had any idea where that was going. They were attracted to each other, they had a lot in common and they both really wanted to make it work, but in the end they just weren't compatible. He was really bad at communicating with her, first invited her to that weird double date with Veronica and Albert without being up-front, then the thing with Lucy. And in the end they broke up over something he knew about her all along. He knew Taylor wanted to use the material from when Bobby was high on the gifted brownies back in the day, how was he surprised that this same basic conflict became an issue again?

And Natalia. He had coffee with her once and suddenly "she really [saw him]". Then he turned around and broke up with her because she talked too much the one topic over which they bonded in the first place. Death is her job. You having died is what got the two of you talking. You valued her insight on the topic at some point even. But then you act like it's an annoying hobby she won't stop talking about?

The same with Tommy. How did Buck spend 6 months dating that man - knowing from very early on that the man had issues, that he grew up in a regressive environment, served in the military as well as under Gerrard, came out rather late in life (only a few years ago), doesn't have much family - and then just jump the whole "move in with me, we can get married one day, we can spend the rest of our lives together" on Tommy instead of sitting down and having an open conversation about the future without any heavy expectations? How does he not know a single detail about Tommy's coming out story, about his exes, about what he wants out of this relationship?

Honestly. Buck means well, but he never thinks things through and is kind of a disaster when it comes to actually dating the partner he finds. It's like he's not dating the person, he's dating for the sake of dating.

[thefirstknife]

Delighted to announce that we officially have some insight into the Dread and finally their pronouns.

Selin and Yemiq are the two subjugators from the Dual Destiny mission, the final bosses and their lore is on the dungeon gloves. Selin is referred to as they, it and she in the lore! Actually incredibly cool how it's written to make sure it's understandable but undeniable that the same character is using multiple pronouns. Yemiq is also referred to with two pronouns: they and she.

"Their" in this one is referring to Selin (first) and Yemiq (second). And then just below:

In case anyone still doubts, the Witness is only referred to with it/its, including a capital "It" which is interesting:

And finally, the boss of the dungeon, a Dread Psion, uses neopronouns, ey/em:

This is on the exotic sparrow from the dungeon (Future Proof). It's so cool that they did this, although I predict fighting in the trenches about everyone misgendering em.

Extremely neat information though for Dread enjoyers and everyone who wants more about what they're like and how they're evolving.

The rest of the armour lore is quite sad and visceral, talking about how they were made and how they were trying to break free and be something else, but the Witness was able to control them. I am hoping we keep getting more especially now that the Witness is dead. Maybe one day the Dread can be free.

Probably the worst part for me was the leg armour piece where the lore shows that the Grim were made as punishment to Dissenters. The Witness turned some Dissenters into these unthinking and unspeaking creatures that can't do anything. The more we kill them, the more they lose themselves and their identities and memories. Putting that whole section under read more because I'm genuinely devastated:

Okay man. I'm not killing Grim again.