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sevsbunny · 5 months ago

Text

secrets

gp!alpha!sevika x omega!reader

4k words!

warnings — sevika has a dick. talks of knotting. fingering (r). thigh riding. slight choking. semi public sex. joint mention.

the brain rot is overwhelming in this one. trust there will be a part two, however please send me things for these two! i want this to be an au <3

skin tone in both pictures is not related/relevant! it is purely for the outfit <3 (minus gloves)

EIGHTEEN PLUS MINORS AND MEN DNI

her scent was intoxicating, smelling of musk, cinnamon, sweat, a hint of mint. and something else. something possessive.

there was no denying the pull you had to her the second you felt her presence enter the threshold of the small meeting room. you were new to the team, having been there for a mere year — and considered an asset for being the only omega — but to each their own.

you needed money. you needed to make a living.

you hadn’t been claimed by an alpha. not that you didn’t want to, just…you hadn’t met the right one.

some were powerful, which usually came with the upper hand of being able to conceal the abuse some held. others were, well. boring. they didn’t spark that interest in you, didn’t make your body thrum with excitement when they were around. you didn’t feel ‘the spark’ your other younger omega friends had talked about when they met their alpha’s in college.

you thought it was something that didn’t exist.

silco paid you well, enough for you to have your own little studio apartment on the top floor. it was small, but you had a rooftop access essentially, so you turned it into a little cozy space.

the hours were tiring, however. you posed as being decoy to missions — a little lost omega in a big city with no one to help her — it was the best weapon to busting these goons that kept stealing from silco.

it was fulfilling for a while, until it wasn’t. you know, the usual motions.

however, it kept you close to sevika. more than it should.

it was dizzying — having to work so closely to her because she was the leader. the one to call the shots. the one that watches everything that goes down, to make sure things are going according to plan.

there were times on the way back from a mission that was more emotionally taxing than the last, that she would let you lean into her, find comfort in her being in alpha.

she knew she shouldn’t let it get farther than that, you were unclaimed and it was dangerous waters for her to be so close to an unclaimed omega when she had been resisting her rut for years.

you noticed her keeping her distance most days, how she would stand on the other side of the room, noticeably the one with the window cracked open. you’d study her figure, the way her broad muscles block out most of the limited light streaming in through the cracked pieces of stained glass. that ruby red cloak sat neatly and layered on her left shoulder, hiding her mech arm. something that you thought of more often than you should’ve.

her brows were usually furrowed at anything, and it seemed that she had permanent scowl on her face. you figured this type of work would do that to you, but that was just how she was. her short, dark brown locks were always in a half ponytail, stray pieces of hair always framing her face that always fell out of the loose ponytail. your fingers itched to push them behind her ear whenever your focus was locked in too long on her.

her eyes never left the usual spot in front of her, darting towards the door when someone knocked, or looked over at silco when he was speaking. but she never gave you a second glance. it kind of killed you on the inside, that just because she was an alpha and you an omega, meant she wasn’t able to spare you at least one single peek. you were always polite and respectful when she was in the room, why wouldn’t she look at you?

it wasn’t like sevika didn’t see you. fuck, all she could smell was you. the scent signature to you, a pretty little unclaimed omega that taunted her every single day when you showed up for work. it was like the devil couldn’t reach her, so instead she gave her you.

it took her resisting herself every single day after meetings to shove you up against the wall and shove her thigh in between your heat, hearing your soft whimpers in her ear as she made you feel the pleasure only an alpha could bring you.

it was after a particularly stressful mission the team had, that you felt like you had almost had enough. and it seemed like sevika was right there with you.

you were both planning to show up at an event, a gala where most of the wealthiest people silco was after would be. it was a pretty elaborate event, one they had been planning on for a while, so you knew better than to think with your pussy tonight.

you had worn a pretty little number, a silk dress that fell down to your ankles, a slit on the left left that ran up to your mid thigh — almost exposing what underwear you should’ve had on. you knew you had work to do, but you also knew you wanted to get fucked up, and you thought you had a pretty good handle on doing just that. (you very much didn’t.)

your hair had been done up, adding on your favorite pearl earrings with matching necklace and black stilettos with a red bottom. you had your signature scent on your wrists and behind your ears, a pink sugar scent with your added omega scent -- vanilla with an undertone of lavender. you knew you looked good, fuck you felt good.

the second you saw sevika, however, you knew it was over for you.

her hair was slicked back into a low bun at the nape of her neck, two pieces of small braids framed her face holding a few pieces of gold hair jewelry. a thin gold chain sat under her neck, white dress shirt with a few top buttons undone with a black vest matching her slacks. her sleeves were rolled up a quarter of a way on her thick arms. you could see a small design of henna on her right hand, the intricate patterns running up to her wrist. you could see the soft light of her mech arm under the fabric of her shirt, and you swore you could smell her from where you stood at the bar. you didn’t know if she had seen you yet, thankfully. you looked away from her, not daring to bring your eyes to her face incase you made some accidental eye contact. you flagged down the bartender and asked for a drink, letting out an exhale of breath as you reminded yourself to stick to the mission.

you knew the second you raised this drink to your lips, it was trouble. there were smells of other alphas around you, and you knew with the way you looked and the fact you had on nothing underneath, you were just asking for an alpha to come up to talk to you.

you didn’t want it though, and sevika wouldn’t allow that anyways.

she spotted you, of course she did. she smelled you before she saw you. it was invading her senses, making her brain full of thoughts of just you. it was getting harder and harder to resist her rut every single day when it came around you.

she let out an exhale as she watched you drink yout concoction at the bar, your legs crossed at the knee to reveal more of your thigh at the slit on your left leg. if she squinted hard enough, she could swear she knew you weren’t wearing anything. but you wouldn’t do that, this is work, you’d keep it professional, right?

her back was pushed up against the wall near one of the doors that let out to a balcony, one that looked over a garden with a little pond. the lights out there were off, no one was permitted to go down to the garden, just on the balcony. you both also knew it was an advantage point these people could have.

you werent sure how much time has passed, but you could feel the alcohol start to take over in your body. you felt giggly, happy and carefree and you honestly could care less what anyone else thought. you had an elbow on the bar, legs still crossed with your back semi to sevika. she couldnt see who you were talking to, but whoever it was was making you laugh like no one should.

she saw a manicured hand rest on your arm in a playful banter, making her chest inhale and exhale heavily. she knew there were other alphas here -- and she knew that you didnt belong to her but couldnt you behave for just once? it pissed her off, how carelessly you were throwing away the mission…

right, the mission.

her huffs again, taking one last long drag to the joint in her hand before flicking her gold lighter closed and placing it into her breast pocket. she kicks off the wall and comes over to you at the bar.

you smell her before you see her.

“ladies,” she says casually, the joint that was once inbetween her fingers, now fell loosely at her lips and smug smile on her lips as she looked down to you and then over towards the other alpha.

“sevika! wonderful to see you!” you sat up a bit straighter as sevika moved closer, half her chest overtaking the front of your seat as you sat back. your thighs pressed against hers as she leaned across the bar casually. she takes a hit from the joint before handing it to you — not offering.

you take it, while she strikes up a conversation with the middle aged alpha that was just hitting on you. you could feel your anger bubbling inside. why would she interrupt you like that? its not like she owned you. you didn’t belong to anyone.

but seeing the way she leans over you, passing the joint between the three of you had you squeezing your thighs a little bit. she perked up a little bit, her nose smelling a slight change in you. you eyed you for a second while the woman she was talking to got held up by a phone call.

“i was fine, you didnt have to come over here.” she grunts as she ashes the joint before taking another hit, still leaning against the counter top. you couldnt focus on much of anything other than the way she was looking at you, how her musk was invading your senses by being this close. you could swear she could hear your heartbeat in your chest harder when her eyes gloss over your figure once before back to your gaze.

“ive seen how many drinks youve ordered. youre getting drunk.” she says matter of factly before bringing the joint up to your lips to hit. you felt a shiver run through your body at the action before taking a hit and exhaling it, the smoke wrapping around her face. her gaze darkens before she takes another hit and ashing it out, and grabbing your discarded drink. she tosses it back and finishes it, before gripping your hand and pulling you off the chair at the bar.

“come with me.” her tone is heavy, angry. you can tell that you over did it, but you can’t think of anything other than her strong grasp she has on your hand, her fingers big and soft. you feel your pussy throb at the thought of them stuffing you full.

she grips your wrist, trying to ignore the way your blood pulses under her touch, how good you smell combined with the faint scent of your slick. turned on already and nothing has even happened has her huffing out of her nose in jealousy.

“you think you can just walk around the office in those short skirts, these tight blouses and get away with it?” she grunts against your ear as she corners you in a dark hallway, the sounds of the gala going on, on the other sides of the wall. it was all around you, but you could only focus on the heat that radiated off of sevika. her thick thigh was snug against your heat, and you could feel her cock throb through her slacks as she presses against you. you couldn’t really think straight at this point, having four flutes of champagne along with the shared joint the two of you just had, your head was empty.

you were officially thinking with your pussy.

fuck.

“what is it, little omega? can’t think straight already? look how easy you are, how small you are…” her mech hand comes up to your chest, the sharp end of her pointer finger trailing a thin line up your skin, right in the divet of your cleavage. you let out a soft whine at the sensation, your cunt throbbing with the lightest touch of hers. she smiles softly, before hooking her metal finger under the band of pearls that were resting peacefully on your throat.

“i know of something that will look better than these around this perfect neck of yours…” her voice is low, moving a shudder through your body as you register how dark and heady her tone is. you inhale as she tugs on the string of pearls and tugs, the string snapping and sending the pearls flying around the two of you, rolling against the ceramic flooring.

her right hand comes up from your hip, her hips rocking ever so slowly into your body. her fingers trailed up the slit of your dress over your skin, catching the edge of the slit and pulling up to reveal the plush parts of your nude hips.

“nothing underneath? while your dripping? you were asking to get someones knot, weren’t you?” you blush darkly at her words, your heat throbbing at the thought of not just anyone giving you their knot.

“not anyone…yours, sev…” her grip on your dress tightens and you swore you could hear it tear. your eyes flicker up from her lips up to her eyes, the darkened gaze she gives you as you whine underneath her. her flesh hand comes to cup your neck, fingers wrapping tightly around you making you gasp out with want. she chuckles darkly at the sound, shaking her head.

“you’re so easy, you know what?” she shakes her head again as she positions her thigh firmly against your heat, moving the fabric of your dress out of the way to reveal to her your cunt snug against the fabric of her slacks. she feels her mouth water as she leans back enough to look at you, then back down to your hips. she squeezes your neck just a smidge before pushing her thigh harder against your cunt. “ride my thigh, baby. get that pussy for me, hm?”

you let out a soft whine as your hips move instinctively to the command, and she cant help but curse our a soft ‘fuck’ as you move. youre so wet, your cunt moves easily over her silk slacks, creating a damp spot on her thigh instantly. her hand around her throat tightens a bit, and you let out a bated moan at the action, grinding your hips harder down on her in response.

“such a fucking dirty omega. who woulda thought, huh?” she grunts as you smile softly in response. she growls deeply, taking her hard from around your neck to move her thigh and cup your heat. she lets out a low moan as her fingers run through your wet folds. she cages you against the wall, her face hiding into your neck as she nips your jaw.

“sev…” you whine out, moving your hips against the feather light touch of her fingers on you, not moving inside of you, but not not touching you. she groans against you as she deeply inhales your omega scent, her brain fighting with everything in her to not let her rut over take this moment.

“fuck, princess. what do you want, hm? use your words.” you let out a soft huff as your head falls back, biting your lip and moving your hips needily for friction. she smiles against her neck, nosing the spot where an alpha could claim you. you let out a soft whimper at the action, more slick gushing onto her fingers. “oh little omega…” she grunts against you, slipping her two fingers easily into your dripping hole, moaning into your ear. her cock was throbbing in her slacks, a damp spot on the fabric making her groan as she grinds her hips into you as she fucks you with her fingers.

her fingers stretch you, the sting quickly turning into pleasure an you can help but moan at the thought of it being her cock stretching you out like this.

your hands come to wrap around her neck, letting her frame hold you off the ground and against the wall with her mech hand anchoring the two of you steady. the sound of your slick against her fingers made you shutter, the sounds of her breathy moans against your neck had you squeezing her digits. “more…” you moan softly into her ear, your finger nails digging into the fabric of her shirt in need. you needed her closer, you needed to feel her deep inside of you.

you needed her knot.

“what is that, omega?” she heard you the first time, but she just couldnt bare to stop fucking you in her fingers like this, feeling your body slack against hers and moving with each stroke on her digits in your weeping pussy. she loved the feeling of you submitting to her, even if its only on her fingers for now.

“more, please, sev…” you let out a wanton moan as she pushes her fingers deep into your cunt, curling them slowly as her thumb presses firmling against your clit. your hips jolt in response, the oversensitivity clouding your brain and making your body react without thinking. she loved having you this pliable in her hands.

“more what, baby?” she wanted you to beg for her knot. she wanted to hear the desperate moans fall from your lips, she wanted to see you fall apart for her. it’s what you and her deserved. she kept her thumb firmly on your clit, moving it in slow circles while your body twitches in her hold. “so responsive,” she mumbles more to herself, before she pulls her head from your neck to look down at your debauched body. your body thrums at the touch, at the praise she gives you and how hungrily she looks up and down your body.

your hands come to grip her shoulders as your brows furrow with want, the look in your eye softening as you stare up at her. she rocks against you, her fingers moving slowly inside of you as her thumb brushes your clit. “your knot…need it…” your cheeks darken at the admission, her smile showing on her lips, showing the gap in her teeth that you love so much..

“that’s what you need, huh?” her fingers speed up as so does her thumb on your clit, a moan falling from your lips as her fingers curl inside of you. “cum on my fingers first, show me how bad this pussy needs my knot.” she grunts as she picks up the pace, your slick running down her wrist and falling onto her slacks. her cock is painful at this point, her knot throbbing as she hears each whine and moan fall from your lips in the empty hallway. she was so lucky everything was louder than the sound of your moans or how wet your pussy was with her finger stuffed inside of you.

your moans turn into sharp whines as you feel your stomach clenches, her hips pushing into you and her fingers curling deep. your nails dig into her dress suit as you shut your eyes and lick your lips. “that’s it baby. cum on my fingers. give it to me.” you let out a sharp moan as your cunt clenches around her fingers, slick gushing from your cunt as you cum. she groans into your ear as she pushes her body weight against you, nibbing the sensitive skin at your exposed collarbone.

you whine softly, feeling her fingers come to a slow movement, thumb slowing down before stopping and pressing firmly against it just to feel your clit throb under the pad of her thumb. she softly removes her fingers from your dripping cunt, before taking both her hands and cupping them under your ass.

“youre so fucking pretty when you cum, omega.” she murmurs against you, and you cant help but let out a satisfied sigh, wrapping your legs around her waist and letting her heavy body fall against you. your body is light to the touch, and you can feel her cock throb against your core. it makes your cunt cry.

“sev…” you mumble against her neck, your arms wrapped around her neck as she groans when you push your hips against her. she nips your skin a bit harder as she pushes her hips harder into you. her scent was overpowering — musk was invading your senses and you could smell something sour, nothing to make you turn your nose but it made you wonder if she was starving off a rut.

the thought alone made your mouth water.

she groans against you as she inhales you, her nose pushing into your neck as her tongue darts out and licks a small stripe on your skin. she moans against your skin, tasting your musk, your perfume and sweat. her cock throbs at the thought of you cumming on her face, her tongue.

she whimpers into your skin, actually fucking whimpers, which makes your cunt throb in response. “fuck, omega…i…we can’t, not in here anyway,” she mumbles into you, and you feel your heart rate spike at her saying ‘anyway’. has she thought about taking you home and making you hers as much as you have thought about it?

you tug her closer, your left hand coming down to trail to her slacks zipper then her fingers grazing over sevika’s bulge. she moans into your skin, hips bucking into your touch. she needs this, needs you — but shes better than that. she knows how to treat a lady and she does not want the first time you take her knot to be at some random gala work event.

fuck, the event.

“don’t,” she warns softly, nosing your neck as she kisses your skin. your fingers halt against her bulge, but her hips still rock softly into your touch. she needs you, but she needs to see you laid out for her.

she pulls her head away from your neck, feeling a loss at not having your scent directly into her nostrils and instead having to be mixed with other scents. she takes her flesh hand from under your ass to come to cup your face. you lean into her touch, nuzzling your cheek into the palm of her hand.

“i don’t want the first time you take my knot here. i want it somewhere comfortable, okay?” herr grey eyes dazzle in the low light, and you can see how sincere her gaze is under the lust invading her scenes. you melt into her touch, taking your hand from her bulge to wrap around her neck again, she pushes her hips one last time against your core, and you let out a soft whine at the contact.

“lets finish this event, then let me take you home. feed you, fuck you, care for you.” you let out a soft whimper at her admission before nodding and nuzzling deeper into her palm.

“what about my pearls?” you ask with a soft smile looking up at her. she chuckles and shakes her head before dipping her head down, brushing her lips softly against yours.

“i’ll buy you all the pearl necklaces and more, mi amor.” she says softly before pressing her lips firmly against yours.

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cheriedivine · 2 months ago

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𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 | Chapter 7

previous | chapter 7 | next

꩜ synopsis: you’re best friends. just best friends. except when she lingers a little too long at your door. except when she calls you her favorite, and it doesn’t feel like a joke. except when her fingers graze yours and neither of you pull away. except when you start to wonder if she’s wondering, too…

꩜ pairing: Ellie Williams x fem reader (No use of y/n)

꩜ content warnings: smoking, weed, smut (finally)

꩜ WC: 11.7k

꩜ Author’s note: THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING SMUT AND IM SO TERRIFIED PLZ… also thank u guys for the sweet comments and messages i’m over the moon grateful, this series is so special to me and it’s not even close to be done okay… y’all will get tired of my ass. Anyway enjoy the chapter love u happy pride month<3

୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧

"Wait, but when did you actually catch feelings for me, though?" you asked for what had to be the millionth time.

Honestly, Ellie didn’t mind repeating herself. If anything, she kind of loved it. The way you always wanted to hear it again, like replaying your favorite song over and over again. Every time she recalled it, she seemed to remember something new. Like the way your eyes lingered just a second too long on hers when you talked, or how your pinkies always seemed to find each other when you sat side by side. Small things. Things she could never forget.

September had slipped by quickly, and in the blink of an eye, October had arrived, trading warm evenings for cooler nights and scattering orange and brown leaves across the sidewalks. It had been a month since your first kiss, (Not like you were counting or whatever). A month of sleepovers, shared sweaters, tangled limbs, nonstop texting, and sneaking into the diner’s back office during your breaks for rushed makeout sessions. Maria had almost banned you from going back there altogether. Ellie had just grinned and said, “Worth the risk.”

“I’ve told you like, a hundred times,” she said now, clearly enjoying the way you whined for her to say it again.

The two of you were tangled up on her couch, limbs lazily thrown over each other. Ellie was supposed to be sorting through prints for her gallery, her best photos from the week. Some from your recent hangouts: walks in the park under trees turned orange, city crosswalks filled with motion blur, candids of you laughing or distracted, the occasional stray cat she couldn’t help but snap. She’d taken the gallery prep seriously. Of course she had to. But lately, it was like you kept happening to her, distracting and consuming in all the best, worst ways.

You sat curled up on the couch, legs tucked under yourself, a book open in your lap, rereading the same paragraph over and over. You weren’t even paying attention to the text. How were you supposed to focus when she looked like that? Her sleeves pushed up, veins visible along her tattooed forearm as she leaned over her table, elbows braced, studying the scattered prints.

“Your death stare is making it very hard for me to analyze these pictures,” she muttered without looking up.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mhm. I can feel it burning a hole through my skull.”

“Can’t help it,” you said, smiling. “You’re too pretty.”

God, the way that made her chest flutter. She shook her head, hiding a tiny smile. Trying to play it cool, but she was already blushing hard. She gathered up the prints and slid them into a folder, then walked over and dropped her full body weight onto you with a dramatic sigh. Her favorite move. Full body crush, almost knocking the air out of your lungs. Face buried in your chest like she could inhale you and forget the gallery pressure altogether.

You didn’t mind. Not even a little. You stroked her hair slowly, gently, like she was fragile, like you knew how much she needed softness. You stayed like that for a while, Ellie breathing you in, inhaling your scent like the oxygen she needed to live, her eyes were closed as you ran your fingers through her hair.

Both of you spent more time together. Even more than before. On the rare day you didn’t hang out because your schedules didn’t align, it felt like a tragedy. Like someone had sent her off to war. It was all so giddy, high school-level giddy. You felt like a teenager again…sneaking out of the group hangs early just to be alone with her. Play-fighting over who had to hang up first. So many dates, even if Ellie still stubbornly insisted on calling them hangouts like it made a difference. You’d been doing the romantic shit before you even kissed.

“C’monnn, just wanna make sure you weren’t secretly foolin’ me or something.” You pouted again, that same little face that made Ellie’s knees weak every time.

Ellie groaned and buried her face deeper into your chest, voice muffled. “I mean, what haven’t I told you?” Then she tilted her face to look up at you, cheeks slightly red from being squished against you.

“When we met I was basically obsessed with you. But I told myself, ‘Don’t be a creep, Ellie. This is why you only have one friend. Stop being delusional.’” She paused, a little smile tugging at her lips. “But with you, everything felt different. Like I didn’t have to hide. Still, I was too stubborn to admit I liked you like that. Lived in constant denial.”

You watched her talk. Taking in every expression, you could study her mouth and eyes for hours and never get bored. The way her brow furrowed when she talked about feelings. The way her voice softened at the edges when she looked at you like this. You’d heard this story before, at least a dozen times. And still, it made something warm unravel in your chest.

“So that explains the flirting with random girls?” you asked, raising an eyebrow in mock interrogation.

She groaned. “I had to cope in some way, plus seeing all those guys hit on you at the diner kinda ripped me apart, but didn’t say anything.”

“I told you,” you said, crossing your arms, “I laugh when I’m nervous. Doesn’t mean I liked it. Plus, I flirted with you all the time. You were just too hard-headed to notice.”

Ellie grabbed the nearest cushion and tossed it at your face.

Which of course triggered a full-blown pillow war.

You wrestled and squealed and laughed until Ellie gave up and surrendered. You were breathless, Ellie’s limbs sprawled on the couch, with you sitting between her legs, flushed and grinning.

And then she grabbed your face, gently leaning in, still catching her breath and kissed you like she’d been waiting all day to do it.

You think about it all the time. How everything but still nothing changed after the kiss, like it was always meant to go this way. There was no big moment or sudden change. Just small things that added up to everything.

Ellie started picking you up after your late shifts, waiting out front in her beat up truck with the heater cranked and a hoodie in the passenger seat for you to throw on. She always claimed you looked better in her clothes, especially that faded blue hoodie, the one she kept pretending she didn’t miss when you “accidentally” took it home.

Your hangouts had shifted into something else. There wasn’t that quiet, aching longing hanging in the air anymore, not in the same way. After that night at your apartment, Ellie promised she’d take you on a date. A real one.

Like the kind you’d gush about in those cheesy movies you love, and what better place to live out a cliché than the fair…where the air was thick with fried grease and too-loud pop music, and where she finally had a decent excuse to hold your hand on the roller coasters.

Neon lights blinked in seizure-inducing patterns while kids screamed on rickety rides in the distance. Ellie had dragged you from booth to booth, fully committed to her vendetta against rigged carnival games.

“I swear this is the one,” she said, squinting at the line of wobbling bottles.

“You said that about the ring toss. And basketball. And the darts.”

Her eyes locked on the duck shooting booth. Yellow plastic ducks glided across a narrow trough, jerking mechanically as bubbles popped around them.

“Oh,” she said, eyes glinting. “This is my game.”

You trailed behind her as she calmly gave the booth guy a crumpled five, taking her jacket off and handing it over to you.

She rolled up the sleeves of her flannel, revealing her forearms, tattoo on full display, veins trailing down to her hands like thunders on a stormy night and took her place at the mounted water gun like it was a sniper rifle.

You blinked. “Oh my god.”

She leaned in. Tongue poking out slightly. Face unreadably focused. Hands gripping the water gun with total control, like she’d done this before, maybe in a past life. The light caught the curve of her jaw just right, and your brain short-circuited.

You started to feel as if you had been lit up in fire, was it hot in here?

Ellie didn’t speak. She just adjusted her stance a little, lips pursed, and let the water stream rip. One by one, the ducks fell, each hit perfectly in the center like she had memorized the timing and rhythm.

By the time the buzzer rang, Ellie had cleared the whole line.

You stared at her, wide eyed. “What the fuck,” you breathed.

Ellie blew imaginary smoke from the tip of the gun. “Told you. My game.”

You gaped. “Are you secretly, like… ex-military?”

“Duck assassin,” she replied coolly, already pointing to a shelf of prizes.

She chose the smallest one, a crooked little stuffed bear with lopsided button eyes and shoved it into your arms in exchange of her jacket, like it wasn’t a big deal, even though she was clearly suppressing a smug smile.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Uh-huh.” She bumped her shoulder into yours. “You like the bear though.”

You did. Stupidly so.

You held it to your chest and muttered, “Yeah I do.”

She was grinning like stupid, tossing her jacket over your shoulders like a shield, as she grabbed your hand and dragged you to the next game.

You still sleep with that bear sometimes. Not that you’d ever tell her.

Another time, it was the planetarium. This one had been your idea, half-jokingly, you didn’t expect much when you pitched it, just a casual “we could go to the planetarium or whatever,” but when the words fell out of your lips Ellie’s eyes gleamed like a kid on christmas morning.

“No way,” she’d said, practically bouncing. “I thought you weren’t into that kind of stuff?”

“Wanna go or no?”

“Fuck yeah, I’m in.”

She’d shown up five minutes early, hair still damp from a rushed shower, hoodie zipped up to her chin, smelling faintly like mint and laundry detergent. Her eyes were wide, childlike, curious, like she wasn’t totally sure what she was about to walk into but her pulse rushed from the thrill.

Inside, the lights dimmed. The dome lit up. Stars bloomed across the ceiling like someone had torn open the sky. Ellie tilted her head all the way back, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. “Holy shit,” she whispered. “This is… fucking sick.”

You were already watching her more than the ceiling.

“Knew you’d like it,” you said, voice low.

She didn’t even respond. Just stared upward, entranced, like the stars were spelling out something only she could read.

Halfway through the show, during some slow narration about galaxies forming, you felt her hand brush against yours on the shared armrest. A light graze. Just the backs of your fingers, hesitant at first. Then she slid her pinky over yours, this time more purposeful. Like it was no big gesture, but you felt like the sun was imploding inside of you.

She didn’t say anything, didn’t look at you, just linked your fingers together, her thumb tracing small circles over yours, soft and delicate.

Her voice stayed low the whole time, whispering random facts on your ear, with the sweetest tone, like she couldn’t help herself.

“Neptune’s winds are faster than the speed of sound,” she muttered. “Like… hypersonic. That’s insane.”

“Mmhm,” you hummed, too distracted by the glint in her eye.

“And Jupiter’s Great Red Spot is a storm. Like a storm. It’s been raging for three hundred years and it’s big enough to fit Earth inside it, like—” she made a quiet whooshing sound, “—in one bite.”

Her hand squeezed yours a little. Like she got excited and forgot she was even holding you.

You nodded. “That’s… intense.”

She shot you a glance. “You’re not listening, are you?”

She could’ve told you the sun was made of hot dogs and you wouldn’t have noticed. You were too busy staring at her profile, glowing faintly blue under the artificial sky.

“Yeah, no sorry I got a bit lost, what did you say?”

Ellie smirked, a bit shy now. “Nothing.”

She leaned in slightly, placing a quick peck on the top of your head, breathing in your perfume, then turned away, but she saw the smile tug at your lips.

After the show, you walked out into the cool night air, fingers still brushing like they weren’t quite ready to let go.

“I’m not usually, like… a space person. But that was cool.” You said, as you walked out into the night.

Ellie bumped her shoulder into yours. “You’re a space person now. Deal with it.”

You gave her a look, maybe more earnest than you meant it to be. “Only because of you.”

She paused. Looking at you. Then shoved her hands in her hoodie pocket and looked away, clearly fighting a smile.

“Whatever,” she mumbled, ears a little pink. “You’re welcome.”

You both stood there for a second, silent.

But your favorite one was definitely the arcade date. You hadn’t planned it, it was just one of those random afternoons where Ellie showed up at the diner unannounced, leaning against the doorframe waiting for your shift to be over, with that smug little grin of hers.

“You busy?” she asked, truck keys twirling around her fingers.

You weren’t. Not even a little.

The drive was filled with chatter, windows rolled down, music loud, and Ellie’s hand tapping against the steering wheel, like she was playing the backup drums on whatever song was playing. You were both laughing, until you passed a neon sign that read ARCADE & PIZZA, you practically almost turned the wheel yourself.

“Wait Ellie turn around—pull over.”

Ellie flinched. “Okay okay— Jesus you scared me for a second.” You grinned, already unbuckling your seatbelt as Ellie pulled over the parking lot.

“I haven’t been to an arcade since I was like twelve I think” you said as you threw Ellie’s hoodie over your head.

“Wow. Nerd” she snorted, earning a small kick on her heel.

Inside, it smelled like childhood. Pizza and dusty carpets, it was oddly nostalgic. The place was loud, packed with kids and their parents, and a couple of teenagers. Neon lights were blindingly colorful, you felt like your twelve year old self again.

“Alright,” she said, cracking her knuckles dramatically. “Where the competition at?”

You rolled your eyes. “Maybe over there, at Jason’s 9th birthday party.” you joked, pointing at the table surrounded by little kids.

Ellie scoffed, “Pffft, easy wins, where is the real competition at?" she glanced over at you.

Oh, you knew where this was going.

“Just say you want to get your ass kicked by me, Williams, not that hard.”

Her grin widened. “You’re on now. Loser pays for the winner’s pizza.”

“Deal.” Both of you squeezed your hands, like you were making some sort of business deal, but this was way more serious.

You didn’t know Ellie had a competitive streak until she practically shoved a 10-year-old out of the way to get to the skee-ball machine.

“Ellie,” you hissed. “You can’t just—”

“He was taking forever,” she snapped, already rolling the ball with deadly focus. “I got shit to prove.”

She won three games in a row.

“Okay, what the fuck,” you growled, staring at the air hockey scoreboard like it had insulted your ancestors. “You’re cheating. There’s no way.”

“You’re just bad,” she teased, throwing the small ball in the air and catching it with her hand. “Maybe I should give you lessons. Private ones.”

“Wow. Cocky.”

“I mean, I did just wipe the floor with you.”

“Oh yeah?” you leaned forward, tempting her, but then you turned around, spotting the motorcycle racing game. Two bikes. One screen. Destiny.

You dragged her over the machine, both mounted the fake bikes revving them like you’d trained your whole lives. Ellie leaned forward, focused her hands gripping the throttle. Her tongue poked out, focused. You knew that look.

Meanwhile you adjusted yourself on the seat, inserting the quarters on the coin slot, your back was slightly arched, causing your shirt to ride up a little and making the small dimples on your lower back visible. Ellie almost fell from her bike at the sight of that. And you weren’t even aware.

“It’s over for you Williams, prepare to eat dust.” you teased.

“You fucking wish.”

The countdown started and the game launched. You took the lead, she trailed behind you, both leaning into turns like you were actually swerving through a neon-lit city. At one moment, your eyes drifted toward Ellie’s arms, her forearm tattoo flexing, adorned by her pulsing veins from gripping the bike handle. God it was unfair—you almost forgot you were in a competition with her.

“Hey, eyes on the road,” she joked, but she was secretly enjoying your staring.

In the end? You won. Throwing your arms up in celebration. “HA. SUCK IT.”

Ellie blinked at the scoreboard in disbelief, “No. Rematch. Right now. My screen lagged.”

“Boohoo excuses are for losers.” you laughed so hard you almost fell off your bike.

The next stop was the dance machine.

Ellie looked skeptical. “I don’t know, dude…”

You were already dragging her by the hoodie. “Nope. No backing out. It’s fate.”

She rolled her eyes but followed. “If I break my ankle, I’m blaming you.”

The game started. The song was fast, the tiles lit up like a rave, and the both of you? Horrible dancers. Absolutely terrible.

You couldn’t stop laughing. Ellie missed the first five steps, almost fell twice, and kept yelling “this is a fucking death trap!” like the machine was out to get her.

But then, something shifted.

Halfway through, she got weirdly into it. Jaw set. Eyes sharp. She started nailing every step, stomping on the lit tiles like she was born in a dancing tournament. She even grabbed your waist at one point, spinning you into position like it was a choreographed number.

“Are you sabotaging me?” you shrieked.

“This is war,” she said, dead serious.

She won that round. You demanded a rematch. She won again.

“Okay,” you panted, doubled over. “You win this one.”

“Jealous.”

“You literally looked like you were summoning demons with your feet.”

“And?”

You played other games after that. Basketball hoops. Whack-a-mole. She tried to win you a prize at the claw machine and got so mad she almost kicked it.

But then— you saw it. The air hockey table.

You gasped. “Oh no.”

Ellie followed your gaze. “Oh yes.”

You both slammed quarters into the machine. Ellie narrowed her eyes, “I’m going to annihilate you.” she said.

You smirked. “You literally just lost the motorcycle race.”

Ellie sighed like a martyr. “Fine. But I’m not holding back.”

“You’ve never held back in your life.”

You both slid your coins in. The machine lit up with that familiar vvvvvmmm of the puck loading up. Ellie rolled her shoulders, cracked her knuckles, and positioned herself like she was about to defuse a bomb. You grabbed your paddle like it was a mortal weapon.

The puck dropped.

The first point? Yours. Quick and clean.

“Fuck yeah!” you whooped, lifting your arms.

Ellie pointed dramatically. “Beginner’s luck.”

The next round? She scored while you were still dancing from your previous win.

“Rude!” you cried.

“Focus up,” she said, eyes glinting.

You both got so intense. The puck clacked across the table like a bullet. Your knuckles started aching from the collisions. Ellie was muttering things like “calculated trajectory” and “this is physics, baby,” which was ridiculous and also extremely hot.

The score climbed. 4 to 4. 5 to 5. 6 to 6.

Final point.

She squinted at you over the rim of the table. “Winner gets a kiss.”

You blinked. “You just made that up.”

“So?”

“…Fair.”

The puck shot out again, and for a moment, everything slowed. Ellie lunged. You twisted your paddle. The puck bounced off the wall—

—and slid right into her goal.

You blinked. Slowly. Then looked up.

Victory.

Ellie just stood there, stunned. Paddle slack in her hand.

“I think you’re choking,” you said softly. “Want some victory soda?”

She groaned, dragging both hands down her face. “I hate this stupid game. This game is rigged. It’s broken.”

“You’re a bad loser, you know that?” you grinned, crossing your arms.

“Can I at least get a consolation prize?” she pouted, and gave her a small kiss on her cheek.

Those memories blurred together now. Warm and fast, like a highlight reel you couldn’t help but replay in your head. The way Ellie had looked at you in the planetarium, her face glowing with stars. The way her tongue poked out when she focused, sleeves rolled up, eyes sharp, and tattoo flexing. The way her hand gripped your waist during that stupid dance game, both of you laughing too hard to breathe.

You hadn’t slept together yet…not all the way, but the tension had started blooming between you in glances and lingering touches and shared hoodies, every moment a little more fragile. All of it, layered like sediment, the slow, quiet shift between friendship and whatever this had become.

Now, Ellie was lying on top of you like a human blanket, gallery prints long forgotten, the curve of her nose pressed into your chest. She was supposedly taking a break,though it had turned into her full-body flopping onto you with all the drama of someone who hadn’t slept in three days. You threaded your fingers through her hair, scratching lightly at her scalp the way you knew she liked. She let out a hum, breath slow and even against your collarbone.

“You’re supposed to be working on your gallery,” you reminded her softly, lips brushing the crown of her head.

“M’working,” she mumbled. “Just horizontally.”

“Ellie.”

She groaned into your chest. “Just five more minutes.”

“You said that fifteen minutes ago.”

“Well now I mean it.”

You smiled despite yourself, thumb brushing over her temple. Her whole body was warm and heavy and tangled with yours, one of her legs slung over both of yours, her arm wrapped lazily around your waist. She wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

Ellie sighed dramatically, face still smushed into your chest. “Mmm. Don’t wanna do the gallery. Hate the gallery. Gallery sucks.”

You laughed. “You’re the one who’s been obsessing over it for weeks.”

“Yeah, but right now I’m busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Laying on top of the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. Very important.”

You rolled your eyes, heart doing the embarrassing flutter it always did when she said shit like that. You ran your fingers through her hair again, feeling her melt further into you.

There was a pause. Soft. Heavy.

Then Ellie looked up, that specific gleam in her eye that always meant trouble.

“What if we ditched this gallery prep bullshit for a little while?” she said.

You raised a brow. “And do what, exactly?”

“I dunno. Go for a drive. Kidnap a raccoon. Smoke a joint on the beach. Something not involving fluorescent lights and burn out.”

You bit your lip. Thinking about it. The clock blinked past 10 pm. The apartment was quiet. The weight of October air clung outside the windows, thick and chilly.

You sat up slightly. “Wait. Beach?”

Ellie grinned. “Beach.”

You both got up immediately, snatching your jackets and hoodies, slipping into your shoes in a rush. You grabbed your bag as Ellie tossed a blanket at you and snatched her keys before the two of you hurried out of the studio.

The windows were cracked. Your hair whipped around your face in the night wind. Ellie drove with one hand on the wheel and the other resting absentmindedly on your thigh, her thumb tracing light circles over the fabric of your jeans.

She looked free, wind in her hair, face lit up by the passing headlights, radio humming low.

You couldn’t stop smiling.

The beach was mostly deserted, just the soft hum of the tide and the faraway glow of streetlights behind you. You hopped out of the truck, the sand sticking on your shoes damp beneath your feet.

Ellie tossed you her hoodie, hitting you straight to your face.

“Hey!”

“You’ll thank me later,” she grinned.

You pulled it on without protest. It smelled like her cologne, warm and familiar. “Thanks.”

“Race you to the shore!” she shouted, already kicking off her boots.

“Wait!” you laughed, fumbling with your own shoes before taking off after her. Your bag bounced against your side with every step, slipping off your shoulder as you ran, breathless and giggling as the cold air filled your lungs.

At one point, Ellie turned suddenly and knocked you off balance, wrapping her arms around you as she spun you both around. You tumbled to the ground in a heap, landing right on top of her, both of you breathless, your cheeks flushed from the cold and the rush of it all.

You turned onto your side, propping yourself up on your elbow as you looked at her.

“It’s… really nice out here.”

“Yeah,” she murmured, brushing the sand from her jeans as she stood. Then she held out a hand. “Come on. Let’s take a walk.”

You slipped your fingers into hers without hesitation, like muscle memory. Like saying yes to her had always been easy.

The two of you wandered toward the water, the waves stretching out endlessly before you.

You wrapped your arms around yourself as you walked, a light breeze brushing over your skin, carrying the scent of salt and earth. Ellie’s jeans were cuffed above her ankles, feet bare, toes sinking into the wet sand beside yours.

She was quiet for a while, and you didn’t rush her. The silence was soft between you, not heavy.

Then, almost like she was thinking out loud, she said, “I think I’m burnt out.”

You glanced over, watching her eyes follow the moonlit waves. “From the gallery?”

She nodded. “Yeah. It’s like… the more I try to prepare, the more it feels like I’m running on empty. Like I’m squeezing everything out of myself and there’s nothing left to give.” She gave a small laugh, dry and tired. “Kinda pathetic.”

“It’s not pathetic,” you said gently. “You’ve been putting your whole heart into it. That’s a lot.”

Ellie didn’t answer right away. She just kept walking.

“Maybe,” you added after a beat, “you don’t need to squeeze anything out. Maybe you just need to breathe a little. Let yourself recharge.”

She looked at you then. Really looked at you. And something in her expression softened.

“Maybe some fresh air is exactly what you needed,” you said, nudging her shoulder lightly. “Who knows—maybe the ocean brings back your inspiration.”

But her inspiration was standing right in front of her, with wide eyes and a soft smile, that same smile that reassured her from her doubts and fears, that made her believe everything was gonna be alright.

Ellie snorted. “Yeah maybe.”

You kept walking a little farther until the sand grew softer and untouched, the sound of the waves a little gentler here. Ellie paused, scanning the area before she pulled the blanket out from where it had been tucked under her arm.

She laid it down carefully, smoothing it out before sinking onto it with a sigh. You sat beside her, legs crossed, watching as she leaned back on her hands and tilted her head toward the sky.

The stars were scattered and quiet tonight. The kind you could get lost staring at without realizing how much time had passed. A breeze passed over you both, cooler now, but comforting. Ellie’s arm brushed yours as she shifted slightly to get more comfortable.

The sound of the waves filled the silence between you, steady and calming. You both had your jeans cuffed, ankles cold and damp from the water. The blanket was barely big enough for two. Your knees were touching.

Ellie was rummaging through the pocket of her jacket with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Boom.”

She held up a perfectly rolled blunt between two fingers like she was revealing a magic trick.

You blinked, then burst out laughing. “You’re gonna get me fired, you know that?”

“Please,” she scoffed, pulling out a lighter, “you can just live with me and be my muse forever. I’ll make you coffee in the mornings. Feed you clementines while you read on the couch.”

She lit the blunt, taking a painfully slow drag, and passed it to you. The smoke curled around her lips and you wanted nothing else but to press yours against hers.

“Muse salary probably sucks.”

“It does,” she admitted. “But the benefits include me and… me, and cuddling 24/7.”

“Wow. How could I resist.”

You took a hit, coughing just a little on the exhale. The haze settled slowly over your limbs, warmth spreading through your chest and cheeks. Time slipped a little sideways.

The blunt moved back and forth between you in a rhythm as natural as breathing. The stars were pinpricks above the ocean, shimmering, scattered, infinite.

Ellie leaned back on her elbows, gaze fixed on the sky. “You ever think about how the light we’re seeing from some of those stars started traveling toward us before the human brain even existed?”

You tilted your head toward her, confused, blinking slowly. “What?”

“Like… we’re looking at the past. Some of those stars could already be dead. We’re just seeing the ghost of them.”

You stared at her, momentarily forgetting about the blunt burning between your fingers.

“You’re literally the nerdiest person I’ve ever met.”

“Thanks. I try.”

The blunt burned lower in Ellie’s fingers, smoke curling around her jawline, eyes soft and half-lidded as she looked at you.

“You’re staring again.” Her voice was low and teasing but not like before. This wasn’t about calling you out. This was about pulling you in.

You didn’t look away. You didn’t even try.

“You look really pretty right now.”

Her brows raised a little, almost surprised. But she didn’t deflect it, didn’t joke it away this time. Just blinked, slowly, lips parting.

She kept going, voice soft and raspy from smoke and salt air. “And Earth moves through space at like, 67,000 miles per hour. Which means no matter what we do, even if we’re just sitting here, we’re still flying through the void. Isn’t that kind of fucked up?”

You didn’t answer right away. You just looked at her. With her messy hair, jeans cuffed like a little boy, freckled face lit up in moonlight and awe. She looked like she belonged up there, with all the stars and the galaxies, floating above you like in a dream. And she kept gesturing toward the sky, completely unaware of the way her words made your ribs tighten.

You blinked slowly, a breath catching behind your teeth.

God. I’m really falling in love with her. Was all you could think about.

Not in the loud, crashing way. Not like the movies. No. This felt quieter. More dangerous. Like something blooming in the dark. Like the soft ache of knowing, really knowing…that if you let yourself, you’d never stop wanting her. Not just her body, not just her kisses. But her.

The way she got really quiet when she was focused. The way she always turned down the volume on her phone before coming into your apartment. How she knew the difference between your tired silence and your mad silence. How she never let your coffee go cold. The way she let you rest your head on her lap without making a big deal about it. The way she touched you like she didn’t realize she was doing it.

Something that always came back. The way she looked at you like maybe, just maybe, she already knew.

You passed the blunt back to her with a shaky hand, trying not to exhale your whole damn soul.

“You okay?” she asked, catching your eyes for a second too long.

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek to ground yourself. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

“Dangerous.”

She smiled at you, all teeth and freckles and affection. And you were doomed.

You wanted to kiss her and tell her how far fucking gone you were, that she has already ruined you and there is no turning back. Instead, you just smiled, barely.

“You ever just… forget how good this feels?” Ellie asked quietly, her voice rough with honesty. “Like the world gets so loud, and you forget how simple it can be to just stop for a second?”

You turned your head, so you could look at her. “Yeah. I think we forget to stop because we’re scared everything will fall apart if we do.”

Her eyes flicked to yours, gentle and tired. “Yeah...”

You smiled faintly, the sound of the tide folding over itself again in the background. “Guess that’s what fresh air’s good for.”

Ellie huffed a small laugh through her nose, and without thinking, she reached for your hand in the space between you. Her fingers grazed yours before curling around them, warm and sure.

Neither of you said anything after that. You didn’t need to.

She took another drag and leaned her head back to stare at the sky. “Fuck man, I should’ve brought my camera, the view is unbelieveable,”

You sighed dramatically, then reached into your bag. “Oh, Ellie…”

She glanced over, puzzled, until you pulled out her camera and held it up triumphantly.

“No fucking way,” she laughed, sitting up straighter, her entire face lighting up. “You’re the best. Are you kidding me?”

“You think I don’t know you by now?” you said, handing it over. “I saw it sitting by your keys and figured you'd regret leaving it behind.”

She shook her head in disbelief, already adjusting the lens. “God, you’re unreal.”

You blushed, trying to play it cool, but it was impossible with the way she was looking at you—like you were some rare artifact she'd just unearthed.

Then she brought the viewfinder to her eye. “Don’t move.”

You froze. “What?”

“Stay like that,” she said, voice softer now, focused. “You look—just stay.”

The shutter clicked once. Twice. She shifted slightly, capturing you from another angle, then tilted the camera up toward the sky, the stars, the waves behind you. The sound of the shutter was rhythmic and careful, like she was trying to memorize every second.

She lowered the camera slowly, then looked at you again, really looked. The way the moonlight enhanced your features and the air blew your hair in all the right directions, like slow motion, she couldn’t hold herself back, she didn’t have to anymore.

Ellie leaned in, cupping your face in both hands, her thumbs brushing just beneath your cheekbones. Her touch was warm and steady, like she was grounding herself through you.

Then she kissed you. Firm and certain.

It wasn’t soft, not this time. It was hungry. Her lips moved against yours with purpose, urgency threading through every second. You melted into her touch instantly, your hands finding her waist and pulling her closer until there was no space left between you.

Her hand came up to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth, her blunt abandoned somewhere in the sand beside you. And you kissed her back like you could bury the ache under your tongue and hope she didn’t feel the way you melted against her.

She tasted like weed, salt and chapstick and something inherently her. Your fingers tangled in the fabric of her jacket, clinging to her like she was the only thing tethering you to the earth.

When you shifted, she followed, leaning into you as the kiss deepened, her hand slipping to the back of your neck, thumb still grazing your skin like she couldn’t stop touching you.

You broke apart just long enough to breathe, foreheads pressed together, your lips brushing as you smiled against her mouth.

She looked at you through half-lidded eyes, flushed and dazed. “You’re so fucking pretty,” she murmured. “It’s not fair.”

And when you finally pulled back, she didn’t move far, her forehead bumped gently against yours, eyes still closed. Neither of you said anything for a moment. You just breathed together.

“We should probably…” she whispered, voice hoarse, like she wasn’t sure where that sentence was going.

“Go home?” you offered, a little breathless, a little terrified.

Her eyes opened, hazy and low-lidded.

“Yeah. Home.”

But her fingers didn’t leave your cheek right away. And when you finally stood, brushing sand off your jeans, folding the blanket with shaking hands and adjusting your bag, you felt Ellie’s hand on your wrist.

“Wait.”

You turned just in time for her to grab your waist and hoist you up with a laugh, throwing you over her shoulder like you weighed nothing.

“Ellie!” you shrieked, kicking your legs, your fists beating half-heartedly against her back. “You’re gonna make me fall on my ass!”

“Relax,” she snorted. “I’ve got you.”

Your voice was muffled by your own laughter, face buried in the fabric of her jacket.

She finally set you down by the car, both of you breathless with laughter, your heart was still thudding from more than just the chaos. Her hand lingered at the small of your back as you climbed in, and you sat there for a second, staring out at the ocean one last time, still high from the weed and the kiss.

The car ride home was awfully quiet. But not the kind that meant nothing was happening. It was the kind of quiet that pulsed. That built up like crashing waves.

Ellie’s hand had been resting on your thigh the whole way. Her thumb traced slow, lazy circles into your skin over the fabric of your jeans, and the warmth of her touch was burning through you.

You shifted in your seat. Crossed and uncrossed your legs, then stilled, because the pressure of her hand there firm, warm, claiming, was making your brain short circuit.

The music was low. Just a beat, pulsing through the speakers. Her fingers flexed slightly against your thigh every time the bass dropped. You didn’t even know what song was playing. Neither of you said anything. But your skin was on fire, your mouth dry, and the only thing you could focus on was how badly you wanted her. Right here. Right now. And it was obvious, painfully, dangerously obvious…that she felt it too.

All you could think about was her mouth. The way she’d kissed you back on the beach. The way she tasted. The way her hand had cradled your jaw like you were precious and hers and ruinable all at once.

Your breath caught in your throat when her fingers squeezed your thigh a little, just enough. But she didn’t say anything. Just kept driving. Eyes focused on the road. Her lips parted, jaw set tight. Like she was holding herself back from something.

When she parked, neither of you moved.

A beat passed.

Then two.

And then you opened the door, heart hammering.

Ellie was behind you in a second, grabbing the blanket, your bag, the abandoned water bottle in the cupholder. And still, somehow, her hand found the small of your back as she guided you inside.

By the time she pushed open her apartment door, something had already shifted.

Because the second it clicked shut behind you…She dropped everything. Your bag hit the floor. The blanket was halfway off your arm when her hands grabbed your waist and yanked you in like she’d been starving.

Your back hit the wall with a soft thud. Her lips found yours instantly. Messy, hot, urgent.

You gasped, one hand flying to her shoulder, the other tugging at her jacket like it offended you that she was still wearing it.

The weed still in your system made everything so much more intense. Her mouth, her scent, the drag of her hands over your waist. It was like every nerve in your body had been rewired just for her.

She kissed you like she was burning up, rushed, teeth knocking, too much tongue, but somehow that just made it better. Sloppier. Desperate.

You smiled against her mouth, and her hand immediately grabbed your jaw, angling your face the way she wanted.

Your fingers dug into her shoulders, dragging her closer. “Ellie—”

“Yeah?” Her voice was ragged. Her lips brushed your jaw. Your throat. Your collarbone.

“Your room—”

You didn’t finish the sentence. Because she kissed you again, like she already knew.

You both stumbled messily toward her room, laughter and breath tangled between kisses. Ellie’s fingers tightened around your hand, grounding herself in the feeling of your skin. Her head was spinning, not just from the weed but from the fact that this was real. You were here, touching her like you needed her.

She silently thanked herself for tidying up earlier, the faint scent of cedarwood and laundry detergent curling around the space like an invitation. There were no distractions. Just you, her, and the electric charge buzzing between every touch. You kicked off your shoes without thinking, and she was already guiding you back, hands firm at your waist as she gently eased you onto the bed. Her body followed, urgent, reverent, starved—lips crashing against yours like waves meeting the shore. You didn’t hesitate. You pulled her closer. She hovered for just a beat, eyes devouring the sight of you, flushed and waiting.

No lens could ever even come close to capturing the way her eyes saw you, the glistening on your face, with your pupils dilated and lips puffy, something holy worth waking up to, like a small prayer whispered before risking everything you got.

She didn’t waste any second, she was all over you, like smoke lingering in the air after you’d shared a cigarette. Intimate. Sharing the object that had been around your lips and hers, she always inhaled a little too hard, like maybe she could taste you through the nicotine filling her lungs.

But now she could have you. In this moment, she laid on top of you, and you were looking at her with those wide, doe eyes. And right now, nothing else in this room, or in this world, mattered. You were waiting for her just as much as she had waited for you.

Your fingers grazed her collarbone, tugging slightly at the fabric of her shirt, pulling her in, as if you’d die if you didn’t taste her in this second, like your life depended on it. She reciprocated, lips hungry—slow, memorizing the crevices of your mouth, giving you entrance to her own, tongues swirling around, slow dancing together.

Ellie cupped your face, her calloused fingertips rough against your tender skin, tickling your flushed cheeks. She trailed kisses from your lips to your jaw, her mouth hot and open tingling on every spot, you sat up slightly, and Ellie took it as her cue to lower her lips to your neck, warm breath hovering the flesh of your neck, as she left open mouth kisses, like she was trying to memorize the rhythm of your pulse with her lips.

Your hands were tangled on her auburn hair, fingers pulling softly with each kiss.

A small moan slipped past your lips, you tried to cover it by snuggling your face into Ellie’s neck, but she noticed.

And oh lord—she wanted to replay that little sound for the rest of her life.

Something shifted in her. Primal. She was starving for you. She needed to cover every inch of your skin with her mouth, trace a map across your body, taking note of every sweet spot that made you squirm under her.

God she was high on you, just by kissing. Pathetic.

You pulled back to look at her again, and the look she gave you?

Fuck. It was unraveling you.

Slowly, you pressed your lips to hers again, the kiss deepened. Messy, sloppy, perfect.

Hands roamed slow and lazy, tangled in fabric and hair, fingers trailing like they had nowhere else to be. Then, suddenly, the weight shifted. You felt an arm slide beneath your back, the other steadying you both. And before you could say something , Ellie pulled you up, lifted like you weighed nothing and settled you gently into her lap. Your thighs bracketed hers now, knees sinking into the bed, your lips still locked together.

Now both of you were chasing dominance with your tongues, breathy moans and low groans spilling between kisses. Ellie's hands rested on each side of your hips, gripping the soft flesh, digging her fingers into your skin.

Meanwhile you lowered your hands down to her stomach, slipping under her shirt. Her skin was warm and soft, so soft. You traced little circles with your fingertips as your hands traveled to her back.

Ellie broke the kiss for a second, catching her breath, and when her eyes met yours, she knew—

You needed her as much as she needed you.

She gave you a small nod— permission, and you took it as a welcome sign.

You lifted her shirt slowly, as if you were giving her the chance to say something, to stop you. But she didn’t. She raised her arms letting you tug it off completely and tossed it aside. Bare freckled skin now only framed by the black sports bra she wore, muscles tensing from the shyness she suddenly felt.

She followed immediately, helping you out of your shirt, leaving you in your bra. Ellie had been waiting for this moment since that night she’d accidentally caught a glimpse through your door. The image of your bare back, the strap of your bra. It had been burned into her memory ever since.

She was so caught up in that thought, she didn’t even realize when you shifted your weight completely and she was now the one lying beneath you, with your knees caging her hips.

Ellie’s breath caught in her throat, her hands instinctively settling on your clothed thighs. You could feel her heartbeat pounding beneath your palms, a steady drum that matched your own. She looked up at you like you were a miracle. Her pupils were blown, partly from you and from the weed, lips parted, and you could see the faintest tremble in her chest as she tried to keep her breathing even.

You dipped your head, brushing your lips over hers, soft and slow. A kiss like a secret. One she’d never tell anyone else but you. You pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes—her lashes fluttered, lips chasing yours, already missing the contact.

Her hands moved, skimming up your thighs, slipping under the hem of your bra strap. Her touch was reverent, like she didn’t quite believe this was real.

“You’re so…” she whispered, voice barely there, but the rest of the sentence vanished in your mouth as you kissed her again. Deeper this time, your tongue sliding past her lips, tasting her like she was something you needed to survive.

Your hips shifted, rocking forward just slightly, and the sound Ellie made.

Fuck.

A soft, breathless whimper was enough to make your head spin.

Her fingers dug into your waist, pulling you closer, anchoring you to her. You could feel her muscles tense beneath you, her body responding to every inch of you.

“Tell me this is real,” she breathed, voice cracking around the edges, raw and so full of need it made your chest ache.

“It’s real,” you whispered against her lips. “I’m here.”

You leaned down again, trailing kisses along her jaw, down her neck, your lips brushing the shell of her ear. Ellie let out a shaky exhale, her hands sliding up your back, fingertips tracing the curve of your spine.

You smiled, teeth grazing her collarbone. Ellie groaned softly, arching into you as your kisses grew messier, more urgent, like you were trying to mark her soul with your mouth. She let you take your time, let you explore her inch by inch like she was sacred territory.

When you sat up again, her hands followed your movement. One trailing along your ribs, the other cradling your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek. The way she was looking at you then? Like you were starlight. Like she’d never let anyone else touch you the way she did.

You leaned into her touch and whispered, “You okay?”

Ellie nodded, eyes glassy, lips swollen, chest rising and falling like she’d just run a mile.

“Better than ever.” She looked completely undone, flushed cheeks, strands of hair sticking to her forehead, eyes drunk on the sight of you.

You leaned in slowly, like you were about to worship her. Your lips ghosted over hers, brushing once, twice, teasing. Cruel. And when you finally kissed her, it was all teeth and tongue, heat and hunger.

She groaned into your mouth, hands sliding up your sides and gripping your waist like she was trying to keep herself grounded to the moment. But she couldn’t, not while you were grinding down on her, slowly, hips rolling just enough to make her curse against your lips.

“Fuck—” she gasped, breaking the kiss as her head fell back into the pillow, exposing the long line of her neck.

You didn’t waste the opportunity.

You pressed your mouth to her throat, biting softly just below her jaw, then trailing your tongue over the spot like an apology. Her fingers slipped under the band of your bra, thumbs brushing over the underside of your breasts, breath coming out in shallow, desperate pants.

“You’re driving me fucking insane,” she muttered, voice rough and broken.

You pulled back to look at her, lips wet and a little swollen, eyes hazy.

“Yeah?” you whispered, breath brushing her cheek. “What are you gonna do about it?”

That lit something in her. She sat up just enough to crash your mouths together again, teeth clashing, tongue tangling with yours in a messy, frantic kiss. One of her hands slid down, gripping your ass, pulling your body harder against her lap, hips bucking up with zero shame.

You gasped into her mouth, nails dragging down her back, and Ellie cursed again. Low, and filthy.

“Can I?” she whispered into your mouth, hands moving to unclasp your bra, her voice trembling with restraint.

You let her—let her strip you bare, skin flushed and burning. She stared for a second, like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing, then she leaned forward and kissed the top of your breast, slowly, her mouth trailing lower. Her tongue flicked across your nipple and your head fell back with a moan, hips grinding down on instinct, desperate for friction.

Ellie groaned when she felt it, her hands grabbing your waist and helping you move, guiding you to rock against her in slow, aching circles.

“That’s it,” she whispered, her voice wrecked. “Just like that.”

Your hands tangled in her hair, tugging with each roll of your hips. Every kiss got sloppier, every sound louder, every breath more frantic. Ellie was everywhere—mouth on your chest, hands gripping your ass, hips thrusting up into you like she couldn’t fucking help it.

You felt drunk on her—on the heat, the pressure, the want of it all. And when she looked up at you again, eyes glassy, lips slick, it was over for you.

“I need you,” you said, barely audible, but it was enough.

Her hands stilled, holding you there. “You have me.”

Ellie was already breathless beneath you, her cheeks flushed, lips kissed swollen, chest rising and falling like she’d just run for miles, but it was nothing compared to what you were about to do to her.

You leaned in, brushing your lips against hers again, slower this time. A whisper of a kiss, soft and drawn out, like you were trying to memorize the way her mouth felt…like you had all the time in the world. And you did. This was yours. She was yours.

From her lips, your mouth began its descent, trailing to the edge of her jaw, to the spot just beneath her ear that made her inhale sharply. You kissed down her neck, stopping at the hollow of her throat to leave a lingering, open-mouthed kiss there. Your tongue grazed the skin, slow and warm. She whimpered, her hand instinctively gripping the sheets.

Your kisses continued down, over the curve of her collarbone, across the center of her chest. You mouthed over the black fabric of her sports bra, feeling the way her breath hitched when your teeth grazed her nipple through the fabric.

“Fuck,” she whispered, squirming slightly beneath you. “You’re—teasing.”

You didn’t say anything. You just smiled against her skin and kept going.

You pressed soft kisses down her stomach. Pausing just above her belly button, letting your breath tickle her skin. Every inch you touched left her gasping, her muscles twitching under your mouth. You looked up at her then, eyes locking with hers. She was already gone. Lips parted, gaze completely fixated on you.

Still not breaking eye contact, you reached the waistband of her pants. Your fingers toyed with the button, and you watched her nod without saying a word.

You undid them slowly, dragging them down her legs, eyes never leaving hers. She lifted her hips to help you, the soft hiss that left her lips making your thighs clench. You peeled them off, tossing them aside, leaving her in nothing but her dark boxers. The sight in front of you left you in awe, legs trembling, laid out just for you was enough to make your core ache.

But you weren’t done yet.

You leaned in again, kissing along the sharp lines of her hips. One side, then the other. Slowly. Warmly. Her hands fisted the sheets, a sharp gasp escaping her lips when you mouthed at the sensitive skin right at the waistband, trailing down to place an open mouth kiss to the wet spot of her boxers. You looked up again—still holding her gaze, and hooked your fingers into the fabric.

“Okay?” you murmured.

She nodded quickly. “Yes. Fuck—please.”

Still keeping your eyes locked with hers, you reached for the waistband of her boxers and pulled them down, slow and careful, exposing her inch by inch. Ellie lifted her hips again, obedient and trembling, and you slid them down until she was bare in front of you.

You could’ve stopped just to stare. Her thighs were slightly parted, her breathing ragged, her tattoo curling along her forearm as she gripped the sheets. She looked like she could cry just from the anticipation.

You settled between her legs and let your fingers slide through her folds, wet, warm, already soaked. She gasped, hips jerking slightly.

“This all for me?” you asked, fingers teasing but not entering.

“Shut up,” she rasped, her voice thin, wrecked. “You know it is.”

You smirked, leaned in, and kissed her hip again, just to be cruel. Then, slowly, you pushed two fingers into her.

The way her mouth dropped open, the way her brows pinched like it physically hurt to feel this good, you never wanted to forget it. You curled your fingers just slightly, hitting the spot that made her whimper.

You kept your eyes on hers, and when her lips parted in another moan, you leaned in close, your voice a whisper. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this.”

Ellie looked ruined with her hair spread across the pillow, hand covering her mouth now, trying to quiet the sounds that kept spilling out of her. But she couldn’t stop them. Not when you were fucking her this slow, this deep, your palm pressing against her clit with each thrust.

“Don’t hide,” you murmured. “I wanna hear you.”

You fucked her slow, deliberate, dragging your fingers in and out while your thumb circled her clit. Her hips moved with yours, chasing the friction, her thighs twitching with every movement.

“God—fuck, that’s it—don’t stop,” she breathed. Her voice was high, strained, like she was barely holding it together.

You sped up just slightly, enough to make her cry out. Her hands clutched your forearms now, nails digging leaving half crescent moons in your skin. She moaned again. Loud, desperate, and you knew she was close.

“Come on, Els,” you whispered. And somehow that made her walls clench harder against your fingers, pulsating with every thrust.You started speeding up, hitting just the right angle, her back arched and she choked on your name.

“I’m—fucking—fuck—” Her whole body tensed, then shattered. Back arching off the bed, head thrown back, a moan breaking open in her chest. You leaned in, kissing her as she came, swallowing her moans, keeping your rhythm until she was trembling beneath you. You only pulled out once her body stopped twitching. Then, with your eyes never leaving hers, you slipped your fingers into your mouth and licked them clean, savoring her orgasm

You grinned as you dragged your fingers out with that small “pop”.

Ellie choked on a gasp, eyes wide, pupils blown.

She didn’t waste a second.

After your little display and those fucking eyes locked on hers while you tasted her off your fingers…Ellie snapped. She rolled you onto your back like a rag doll, with a roughness that wasn’t aggressive, just desperate. Her mouth was on yours immediately, hands framing your jaw, tongue sliding in as if she couldn’t get deep enough.

“Mine,” she murmured, almost to herself, between kisses. “You’re fucking mine.”

Ellie hovered over you, flushed and breathing hard, her skin glistening, her eyes blown wide with lust and awe and something deeper—something that cracked you open just by looking at you like that. You were still panting from making her come apart on your fingers, but that didn’t stop her from slipping her hands under your thighs and flipping you onto your back, her mouth crashing against yours in a hungry, lingering kiss that tasted like heat and desperation.

“You think I’m gonna let you get away with that?” she rasped against your lips, her voice low and breathless. “No fucking way–”

Your breath caught. Your legs instinctively parted around her hips, your hands clutching at her arms, the muscles flexing beneath your fingers. Ellie leaned in, pressing kisses to your jaw, then your throat, open-mouthed and wet, letting her tongue drag along the curve of your neck.

You arched into her instinctively when her lips brushed your collarbone, then went lower. She kissed between your breasts, and you felt the cool air and her hot, roaming gaze, addicting.

“So pretty,” she murmured, her voice gone thick. “Fucking perfect.”

She wrapped her lips around one of your nipples, sucking slowly, letting her tongue flick over it before biting down just enough to make you gasp. Her hand came up to play with the other, thumb circling, pinching, teasing, until you were whining, thighs rubbing together beneath her.

And she wasn’t even close to done.

She switched sides, kissing the curve of your breast before giving the same treatment to the other nipple, slower this time, messier. Her teeth grazed your skin, and then she trailed lower…tongue dragging down your ribs, over your stomach, leaving tiny wet patches and hot breath in her wake.

But she didn’t rush. She took her time, leaving small hickeys on your chest, just above your heart, another on the soft swell beneath your breast, and one lower, just to the side of your belly button. She wanted to mark you, and she wanted you to feel it every time your shirt brushed against those spots later.

By the time she reached the waistband of your jeans, you were trembling.

She looked up at you from between your thighs, and fucking hell you could’ve just cummed at the sight of her beautiful green eyes looking at you like that, all desperate and needy, hands sliding to your hips.

“Still ok?” she smirked.

You could barely form words. Just a breathless, desperate nod.

She undid your jeans slowly, dragging the zipper down with purpose, fingers teasing at the waistband as she leaned in to kiss your lower belly, just above the fabric. You lifted your hips so she could tug them down, and she did—carefully, kissing every new inch of exposed skin. Your thighs, your inner knees, the dip just above your underwear. You were soaked already, and Ellie saw it, smelled it, her breath hitching.

“Fuck, look at you.”

She pressed a single kiss to the front of your panties, right over your clit. You whimpered, bucked into her mouth, and she just chuckled low, mouthing at the wet fabric. Her tongue dragged over it once, then again, leaving it wetter with her spit. Then she sucked at it, lightly, then harder right through the cloth, until you were gasping, your hips twitching beneath her grip.

“Tastes so fucking good, even through this.”

She hooked her fingers in the waistband and tugged them off in one smooth motion, tossing them aside without looking. Then she kissed your thigh again, and again, and again, until you were practically begging.

Then finally—finally, she spread you open with both hands and dove in.

Her tongue flattened against your pussy and dragged up in one slow, singular motion, like she wanted to study your body with her mouth. She moaned into you at the taste, low and guttural. Like it relieved something inside her. Her tongue flicked against your clit, soft and rhythmic, then she pulled back just long enough to spit on it, watching the mess drip and smear as she dove back in.

Your head fell back against the pillow.

“Ellie—fuck—”

She hummed again, arms wrapped around your thighs, holding you still, her face buried so deep you could feel her breath inside you. Her tongue teased your entrance, then pressed inside you, slow and firm, while the tip of her nose rubbed against your clit with every movement. Hitting just the right angle.

You gripped her hair hard, really hard. And she just groaned into your pussy like it made her wetter, grinding her own hips into the mattress while she fucked you stupid with her tongue and sucked your clit in between.

The tension coiled fast and hard in your stomach, your thighs beginning to tremble. Ellie felt it. And added two fingers without warning, curling them up just right, and doubled down with her tongue until you broke, cumming hard with a growly cry, hips jerking on her face, your hands pulling her impossibly closer.

But Ellie didn’t stop.

She didn’t even slow down.

She fucked you through it, licking up every drop, moaning into you like she’d drown there happily.

When she finally pulled back, her chin and lips were shining. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, breathing heavy, pupils dark and starving. Then she crawled up your body and kissed you, deep and messy, letting you taste yourself on her tongue.

“Didn’t get enough,” she panted against your lips. “Need you again.”

You felt her hips roll down into yours, and then again, more intentional, needy. You looked down.

She was already grinding against you, bare now, both of your slick combining. Your thighs instinctively spread wider, and Ellie settled between them, her cunt sliding against yours, hot and sticky and so fucking wet.

You gasped. “Oh my God—”

The friction was instant. The way your clits brushed together made you both cry out. She grabbed your thigh, threw it over her hip, angling you just right. Then she started to move, grinding slow and deep, her forehead pressed against yours, her breath stuttering every time your bodies slipped perfectly together.

“Feels so fucking good,” she groaned. “Shit—you’re perfect—”

You couldn’t even respond. You were too caught up in it. In the slippery, desperate rub of her cunt on yours, the raw eye contact, the sweat and tension and whimpers she couldn’t hold back.

Your hands clutched her back, your legs wrapped around her waist, and you met every grind with one of your own. You were soaked, overstimulated, and yet completely insatiable.

Ellie’s voice cracked as she picked up the pace, her hips stuttering, her sounds getting louder, higher.

“You gonna come again with me?” she begged, voice strained. “Please—fuck. I wanna feel you come on me.”

You nodded frantically. You could already feel it, your second orgasm, rolling in fast. Your muscles tensed, your thighs clenched around her, and then—

You both came.

Harder than before. Together.

Her body collapsed onto yours, her face buried in your neck, both of you shaking and soaked and breathless.

The room is quiet, save for the low hum of the fan in the corner and the echo of your breaths slowly syncing again. The air is thick with the scent of sweat and skin, heat still clinging to both of you, but you’re not in a rush to pull away.

Ellie’s lying on her back, arm stretched out, inviting, and you settle into her side without thinking, thigh slung over her hip, your chest rising and falling against hers. Her skin is still warm. Damp in places. You let your fingers wander on her skin, tracing the soft, faded scars scattered across her stomach.

She doesn’t flinch.

Instead, her hand finds your waist, and she’s holding onto you like she needs the reassurance that you’re real. That you’re still here.

Your fingertip drags in slow circles, skimming across her ribs, then trailing down again, stopping to gently trace the outline of a small mark near her navel. You wonder where she got it. If it hurt. If she ever thought to tell you.

Still, neither of you says anything. You shift slightly, arm draped across her middle now, and your other hand finds her forearm, the ink there familiar beneath your touch. You trace the edge of her tattoo, carefully, like you’re memorizing it with your skin.

Ellie’s breathing deepens. You feel it in the way her chest rises under your cheek, the way her thumb starts brushing gentle lines across the bare of your back.

And then, softly, almost like a thought slipping out by accident, she finally speaks.

“You are the most beautiful girl on this planet—” A pause. A breath. “No. This universe.”

You scoff, letting your lips curve into a smirk against her skin.

“Pffft—You say that to every girl you sleep with?” you mumble, teasing, but your voice comes out quieter than you meant. Too full of feeling.

Ellie huffs a laugh, but you feel the shift in her body. She’s still smiling, but there’s something quieter behind it, more serious. Something heavy in her chest that she doesn’t quite let out yet.

“No girl has gotten lucky enough.”

You lift your head, just slightly, eyes meeting hers.

She’s not grinning. Not smirking.

She’s looking at you like she wants to kiss you all over again, but not in a way that’s messy or frantic or lustful.

She’s just there. Staring. Open. Soft.

And you don’t say anything back.

You just curl into her again, one hand resting on her chest where her heart is beating like a marching band, the rhythm of her palpitations calms you down. And she lets you stay there. Quiet. Wrapped in each other like neither of you know how to ask for more. Even though it’s already written all over your skin.

Sunlight slips lazily through the slats in the blinds, casting pale golden stripes across the tangled sheets. Ellie stirs, arm reaching out instinctively to the other side of the bed, but it’s empty now. Still warm, just barely. She blinks groggily, eyes adjusting to the morning light, her limbs heavy with sleep and muscle ache.

There’s a second where panic flickers through her.

Did you leave? Was everything just a dream?

But then she smells you on her pillow. Faint traces of your shampoo, your skin, your sweat from the night before, and the corner of her mouth tugs upward, soft and slow.

She turns her head and sees it.

A little piece of paper on her desk, scrawled in your handwriting.

“Headed to work. U looked too cute to wake up. Pass by the diner if ur not busy ;)”

Ellie stares at it for a minute, then flips onto her back, one arm thrown over her eyes as a smile overtakes her entire face. It’s the kind of smile she couldn’t hide even if she tried.

Stupid. Giddy. Lightheaded.

You.

Her mind plays it all back in bits, your mouth, your hands, your body pressed to hers like it had always belonged there. The way you looked at her like you were afraid to blink and miss her. The way you touched her, so safe and sure, like you were tracing art into her skin.

And now you were just… gone.

Gone, but not far.

Her eyes flutter open again. The note’s still there. The sheets are still messy. Her chest still feels full in that unfamiliar, aching way. She sighs, long and dreamy, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

When she finally sat up, her hair was a mess, body sore in the best way. The note is still clutched between her fingers, and she reads it once more for no reason other than the way it makes her stomach flip.

She stretches, smiling like an idiot, already thinking about what she’ll say when she sees you again. Already wondering how she’s supposed to act around you now. Already imagining the way your face lights up when she walks into the diner.

Had she mentioned how irrevocably fucked she was? So completely, irreversibly, stupidly fucked for you.

How she felt like she dug a grave for herself, how this would either be the best thing ever or the worst heartbreak of her entire fucking life. And she didn’t wanna think about it, because she’s scared as shit.

She’s scared of herself more than anyone.

୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧

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hongcherry · 11 months ago

Text

on my mind (pt. 1) || l.c (m)

The handsome stranger at the pool gives you an experience you won't forget.

💦 Pairing: idol!Chan (Dino) x stranger!Reader (f) 💦 Rating/Genres/AUs: M(18+); smut (!!!), fluff, some angst; idol au, strangers to lovers au 💦 Warnings: Pet names (baby, pretty girl, beautiful), public/pool sex (bc of those pictures), unprotected sex (be safe!), no prep (be safe again!), bigDick!Chan, breast play, lowkey sad ending 💦 Word Count: 3.4k 💦 Author’s Note: Oh Lee Chan... How dare you do this to me 😩 (and ty @okiedokrie for beta'ing!!! 🥰)

PART TWO

seventeen masterlist | main masterlist

this blog is 18+. minors do not interact. plz & ty!

“You know you’ve been staring for the past thirty minutes, right?”

Your gaze snaps up from your book. The handsome stranger stares down at you, water droplets dripping from his hair and down his sculpted body. You force your eyes to stay on his, but all you want to do is follow the water south.

You had hoped to be more discreet earlier, but supposedly you failed.

“S-Sorry, I thought you were someone I knew,” you lie.

The man’s lips tilt in a knowing smirk. His expression fans the heat in your belly.

“Am I?” he questions.

“No,” you reply and avert your focus on your book again. “Sorry.”

You expect him to leave, but he still blocks the sun from your view. When you realize he’s not moving, you look up again.

He beams a charming smile.

“What brings you here?” he asks.

You rest your book on your lap, keeping a finger between the pages as a bookmark.

“Paid for the pool, might as well use it,” you chuckle.

He laughs and glances back at the water. “You’re not really using it, though.”

You bite your lip. You were going to, but seeing the stranger and his friends play in it, made you want to watch rather than join. However, his friends had just left and now it was only you two.

“I used it earlier,” you lie again.

He cocks his head to the side. “Do you always lie to strangers?”

“What?” Your eyes widen; your heart races.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asks, abruptly switching topics. His pretty smile falters as if realizing his friendliness has taken a turn.

You sit up and shake your head. “No! You’re not. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he says and looks away for the first time. He glides a hand over his hair. The muscles in his arms bulge at the motion, and you force your thoughts to stay PG.

“I should head inside. It was nice meeting you,” he says, barely making eye contact.

You place your book down and rise to your feet. You tentatively reach out and brush your fingertips against his forearm to stop him from leaving.

He turns to you fully again.

“I’m Yn,” you introduce, hoping that will make him stay.

He gives you a tiny smile, answering sheepishly. “Chan.”

Is he shy now? You almost giggle at his change in attitude.

“What brings you here?” you reuse his question.

“Work,” he replies.

You glance around at the upscale hotel. “Must be a nice job.”

“It is,” he says.

Sensing he still feels nervous, you glance at the pool. “Join me for a swim?”

His brown eyes grow. For a second you think he’ll decline, but he nods and walks to the stairs. He takes the steps carefully and when he’s at the bottom, he holds out a hand.

You don’t need his guidance, but you accept his offer—if only to feel his strong hand around yours.

You let out a small gasp at the cold water. He chuckles as he watches you tense up.

He steps toward you and runs his hands over your arms carefully, not wanting to overstep a boundary. However, he must feel how you feel. There’s something between you two that makes you want to skip a few imaginary steps from strangers to friendship to maybe something more.

Your lips pull in a smile as he warms you.

“Thanks,” you murmur.

He nods then slowly steps away. He looks around; his sight snags on a volleyball floating at the other end.

“Want to play?” he asks, gesturing to the ball.

“Okay,” you reply. Hopefully doing so will alleviate some of the timidness.

Chan swims to retrieve it. As he does so, you sink into the water to get used to the temperature. You take the moment to admire Chan’s back muscles. They ripple with every movement he makes, and you wonder how they’d feel under your hands.

When he turns and catches you staring, he smiles. You glance away, embarrassed at having been caught.

“I kinda liked having your eyes on me,” he says playfully when he nears.

You tuck your chin down and fidget under the water.

He chuckles and taps a finger under your chin to get your attention.

“Ready to play?” he questions.

Eager to change the topic, you nod and stand.

Chan’s gaze follows the water rolling down your body. You’re glad to see he feels the same way for you.

You reach out to grab the ball and Chan snaps his eyes up, only now realizing he was staring. It’s his turn to look embarrassed.

Granting him the same courtesy, you let the moment go.

“First to ten wins?” you ask.

Chan swallows the lump in his throat and nods.

You take a few steps back before you toss the ball in the air. With your hands clasped, you hit it with your forearms, sending it in his direction.

Chan mimics your pose and bumps it back to you; however, it falls short and you miss it.

“First point goes to me,” Chan smiles. He pushes the water to make the ball float to you.

“Isn’t it your turn?” you wonder and grab the ball.

He shrugs as if to say it doesn’t matter. You nod and toss it in the air before you hit it.

You and Chan play until it’s four to two.

Chan eyes the ball in the air and then hits it with his hand.

You move to the side and hit the ball, though, it goes more up than out.

Chan rushes to it. He reaches out to volley it back but slips on the pool’s tiles. You don’t have enough time to react as his body collides with yours and slams you both under the water.

He scrambles to stand and lifts you by your sides to surface you.

You inhale a breath as soon as you can.

“I’m so sorry!” he exclaims, holding you tight in case you might fall back under.

A mixture of laughter and gasping comes from you. It’s probably not a pretty sound, but Chan smiles anyway. The worry etched on his face slowly fades.

“Does this mean I won?” you ask between giggles.

Chan laughs and nods. His wet hair sticks to his forehead and his torso shines under the sunlight. He’s beaming that handsome smile, the one that reads happiness and confidence. You really like his smile.

“Only because I’m disqualified for body slamming you,” he replies.

You shrug as if it doesn't matter. “It was fun.”

Chan raises his brows. “Being body-slammed?”

Another shrug. “It didn’t hurt.”

“I’m glad,” Chan says.

“So, what do I win?” you ask playfully.

It’s not until Chan squeezes your waist that you remember he’s still holding onto you. However, you don’t pull away. His touch feels nice.

“What do you want?” he questions in return.

You take the tiniest step forward.

“Something unforgettable.”

Chan’s eyes flicker to your lips.

“I can do that,” he whispers confidently. Then not even a second later, his lips are on yours.

Your mouths move in a heated kiss, tongues already sliding against each other. You’re quick to meet the other halfway to connect your bodies. Your soft breasts push against his hard chest.

Chan’s hands glide up and down your sides, thumbs brushing the side of your breasts. Meanwhile, your arms wrap around his neck, a hand caressing the back of his head to keep him close to you.

Needing to feel him more, you grab one of his hands and place it on one of your breasts.

Chan moans into the kiss and automatically squeezes them. He slips his hand beneath your swim top to feel you directly.

You pull from the kiss with a gasp and a moan.

Chan takes the opportunity to slide your top up, gathering it under your arms. He marvels at your exposed chest and cups your breasts in his strong hands. He pushes them up, rolling the flesh in his palms before pinching your nipples.

You mewl at the pleasurable pain, which causes Chan to smirk. He alternates between massaging your breasts and twisting your nipples between his fingers. You can feel how much he wants you against your body. It makes you eager to feel him inside you.

You grab his hands and gently pull them off. He frowns but doesn’t say anything. After giving him a reassuring smile, you lean forward to peck his lips.

Your kisses trail south, along his jawline, down the column of his neck, and in between the valley of his pecks. You take a detour to flick your tongue against one of his nipples, eliciting a small moan from Chan.

Your tongue plays with it before moving to the other and repeating your actions before continuing downward.

Chan watches attentively as you trace his defined muscles with your tongue. You ignore the slight chlorine taste as you lick his abs, tongue dipping in the divots of his body. You’d be ashamed of yourself if you weren’t so aroused.

Though, Chan doesn’t seem bothered at all as he stares down with darkened eyes and an open mouth. You kiss just above his swim trunks, a grin taking over your mouth.

“Shit, come here, pretty girl,” he mutters and pulls you up.

The disappointment of almost sucking his cock evaporates as soon as he kisses you roughly. He leads you both to the shallower part of the pool.

When he comes up for air, he takes a quick glance around. The area is empty.

He reaches out to grab a flat inflatable lounger that floats by.

“Get on,” he instructs softly and holds it in place.

You carefully ascend the floatie. Thankfully, the trees in the area block the sun from your eyes when you lay.

“Move down more,” he says, still holding it tight so it doesn’t flip from under you. “Wrap your legs around me.”

You scoot lower until your ass is toward the bottom of the lounger, legs around Chan’s waist to keep steady. You suck in a breath when his hard cock brushes your clothed center.

“You ever done this before?” you wonder, taking in your position. The height of the water makes the floatie align perfectly with his pelvis.

He chuckles. “Nope, so if this goes horribly wrong, I apologize in advance.”

You laugh. “I forgive you in advance.”

Chan grins and moves one hand to circle your clit while the other gropes your breasts. Your body jerks at his touch. The fast motions against your clit combined with the rough squeezes of your breasts heighten your arousal.

“I need to feel you, Chan,” you whimper.

“You are feeling me,” he teases, hands moving a little rougher to indicate what he’s referring to.

You whine pathetically as you buck your hips. “Inside me.”

Chan’s movements slow down.

“Okay, let me,” he begins to say as he trails a hand lower to your core.

You shake your head, grabbing his hand. You know he means to prep you, but you’re too eager.

“Just want your cock,” you beg. “Please.”

A smirk forms on his lips. He slowly takes his hands off your body, and you pull him closer with your legs, thinking he’s about to leave you.

“Easy there, beautiful,” he says and rubs your thighs comfortingly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Once his words register, you nod sheepishly and ease your grip around him. Smiling, he tugs his swim trunks down enough to free his cock. Your pussy gets wetter at the sight of him.

“Let me know if you want me to stop, okay?” he asks and pulls your swim bottoms to the side. His focus flickers between your eyes and your dripping core.

“Okay,” you answer, eager for him to fill you.

Chan carefully inches closer and then gathers some of your arousal with his tip. You hold your breath in anticipation.

When Chan’s tip finally slips inside, your mouth falls open with a gasp.

“Fuck,” he mutters, sliding in gradually. You’re so tight around him.

“Open up for me, baby,” he coos and starts to rub your clit again. “Let me fill this pussy all the way.”

Your hands clutch the sides of the inflatable lounger. His girth stretches you in a way you haven’t experienced before. You focus on the circular motions against your clit, easing your body and letting Chan enter you easier.

“There you go, pretty girl,” he praises, pushing in the last of his cock.

“So big,” you mumble. You shift slightly and moan at the sensation. Chan’s circles on your bud falter.

“And you’re taking me so well,” he says with a smile.

He stays sheathed inside you for a minute. Your hips buck every so often from him stimulating your clit. Each movement makes you whine or moan from feeling Chan’s cock rub against your walls.

“Can I move?” he questions; there’s no pressure in his voice.

You nod.

Chan rearranges his hands to hook under your thighs. His palms the top of your thighs to ease any nerves you may have. Though, you’re not nervous at all. You may have just met Chan, but you know he’ll never hurt you. He’s been attentive to your needs and your comfort since he first spoke to you.

Slowly, Chan glides out halfway. The drag of his cock feels heavenly.

Then, he pushes back in.

He does this motion slowly, making sure you get used to the feeling of his thick cock stretching your walls.

“Faster, C-Chan,” you say. Every glide feds the fire in your belly. Whatever pain or discomfort you were feeling has disappeared. In its place is a lust that needs to be quenched.

“You sure?” he asks.

You nod. “Fuck me.”

Chan curses under his breath. His grip on your thighs tightens and his pace gradually picks up.

Before you know it, he’s pounding inside. He uses your legs as leverage, eyes hooded with hunger. Occasionally, his gaze moves up to watch your tits bounce with each slam of his body. The water laps around you both; some of it sloshes over the sides of the pool. The sounds of the water splashing and his skin hitting yours make everything feel sexier. You’re sure this looks like a scene from a porno, but that fact just turns you on more.

“Try to be quieter,” Chan says after a string of loud moans comes from you.

His suggestion barely registers in your mind. “I’ll tr—oh fuck.”

Chan chuckles and slows down. He trails a hand up your body to caress your face. His thumb glides along your bottom lip, pulling it down before letting it snap back in place.

When he goes to do it again, you open your mouth wider and suck his thumb into your mouth.

“Fucking hell,” he groans, sight locked on your puckered lips.

Chan moves his other hand to grip your hip. He begins to transition from powerful thrusts to sensual glides. He rolls his hips expertly against yours. Although they’re not fast motions, the slow slides in and out have your eyes rolling back. You hadn’t expected him to know how to move like this, but it’s obvious he’s skilled. You briefly wonder where the skill stems from. Has he had lots of practice having sex, or did he move his body in other ways a lot? His smooth motions remind you of a talented dancer.

“You feel so good,” he rasps and pulls his thumb from your mouth. He wipes your salvia along your lips, making them shine.

“You gonna cum for me, baby?” he asks, increasing his speed.

You nod, a choked cry escaping you when Chan connects his thumb to your clit again. He rubs it harshly while rocking into your cunt.

You bite your lip, trying to keep quiet, but it’s difficult when Chan’s fucking you so well.

Your legs tighten around Chan as the fire grows. It builds and builds until it’s too much to bear. Your walls flutter around his cock and before you can warn Chan, you’re cumming hard.

Chan continues to circle your clit, helping you ride out your orgasm. He only removes his hand when you squirm from his bruising touch.

“Think you can hold out a little longer, pretty girl?” he asks.

In a haze, you nod.

Chan unwraps your legs, hooking his arms under your knees and lifting you ever so slightly. The new angle lets him go a little deeper.

You clutch the floatie and hope you don’t pop the damn thing.

Chan’s hips snap into you fast and hard, driving you absolutely wild. More moans spill from his mouth as he nears his climax. You think he sounds so pretty, but you don’t stay on the thought for long. It’s hard to focus.

“Oh fuck,” he groans and pulls out quickly. He pumps his cock, abs clenching with furrowed brows.

Soon, your tummy is covered in white. Chan’s head rolls back as he releases his load over your body. You and Chan stay still, panting and coming down from your highs together.

Chan takes in a long inhale and finally looks down. His eyes scan the mess he made on you and your fucked-out expression.

He laughs softly. He tucks himself back in his swim trunks then reaches out to fix both pieces of your swimsuit. Afterwards, his hands swipe at the cum, gently cleaning off your body.

Chan leans down to wrap his arms around you. He carefully lifts you off the floatie and onto the pool floor. He keeps his arms in place as he stares with a big smile.

“How’s that for unforgettable?” he asks.

You lean into him, hands massaging his shoulders and neck. You feel dazed and overjoyed.

“I fear you may haunt my dreams,” you reply teasingly.

“Haunt?” He chuckles. “Wouldn’t I be blessing them instead?”

You laugh, shrugging. “Depends on if I can see you again.”

Chan’s smile suddenly turns into a sad one.

“I don’t know,” he replies.

“I can’t get your number?” you ask, heart filling with lead and weighing it down. You just met the man but the thought of never seeing him again cracks your heart.

He rubs his lips together in thought. Though before he replies, the sound of an opening door interrupts the conversation.

Two men peek their heads out. From your position, Chan’s back faces them.

“There you are,” one of them says. His smile is as bright as the sun.

Chan twists in your arms to see who it is. He must recognize the men. The aforementioned people drift their gaze to you. You can tell they want to tease Chan, but they don’t. They’re probably saving it for later.

“Do we have a schedule?” Chan asks.

“No,” the other with glasses says. “We just thought you were coming back with us, but no one’s seen you.”

“I’ll be there in a bit,” Chan replies.

“Don’t stay out too long,” the first says, a teasing lilt in his voice. “We have an early flight tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I know,” Chan says.

The men give you both a knowing smile, then leave the area.

Chan exhales a deep breath and slips from your hold. He takes your hand, leading you out of the water.

“You’re leaving tomorrow?” you ask, trying to hide your disappointment. You do a poor job.

Chan sighs and grabs the towel you had. He wraps it around your body and rubs your hands that hold onto the material.

“Maybe I’ll see you before I go?” he says, but you’re unsure if it’s a wish or a question.

“Maybe,” you say.

Chan cycles through his thoughts before speaking.

“I had a nice time, Yn. I won’t forget you.”

Your heart churns as if you’re going through a breakup. Your eyes quickly dance across his face, attempting to memorize every detail. You get the sense he’s doing the same.

“Me too” is all you say. You also had a nice time, and you definitely won’t forget this man. Not only because of the mind-blowing sex but also because he seems like a person you’d want in your life.

Chan leans in and kisses you. Unlike before, this one is slower. He takes his time moving his lips and gliding his tongue. There’s passion behind his movements that makes you crave to be more than strangers. This man oozes love, and you wish you could receive it wholeheartedly.

Maybe things wouldn’t have worked out, but something in your gut says even if you were to be loved by him for only a little while, it would’ve been worth it.

Chan would’ve shown you how it would feel to be truly adored.

A/N: rip the contaminated pool 🥲

For my “shy/silent” readers, I’ve created a feedback form where you can share your thoughts on my fics in a more anonymous and private way. ^-^

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glassbxttless · 3 months ago

Note

Hi there! 👋🏽😊 As promised I have made it here to your little sandwich shop!

I would like salami and provolone on rustic sourdough, with mustard and why not make it a combo with hush puppies!

Excited to see what you whip up 😍

Much love,

- T🌙

Dinner for Two

older!eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 4.9k+

summary: Sandwich Shop Request from 28bohemianmoons | when your car breaks down and the very handsome mechanic that promises to fix it invites you over for dinner, he gets a little more than he bargained for.

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, smut, bit of an age gap, eddie’s 46, reader’s in her 20’s (i picture her as late 20’s but it’s never explicitly stated. so it’s up to you), oral f receiving, pinv

notes: Order up for T! Thanks for coming by and checking out the sandwich shop 🫶🏻 There’s some parts of this I feel like I could’ve elaborated more on, but it’s already almost 5k and these fics were supposed to stay under 2k lmao (I’m also just a bit tired of fussing with it). So I hope you enjoy! Big thanks to @prettycalla & @keeryhours for reading this over and as always, the biggest thanks to @peachyproserpina for editing! I’m a mess without her.

Your engine coughs once. Then it sputters. Then it fucking dies completely.

You coast to the shoulder of the road with a sinking feeling in your stomach. Your hazard lights blinking uselessly in the evening dusk. You’re not far from town, but far enough to know this is going to be a pain in the ass. You sit behind the wheel in silence for a few seconds, trying to will the car back to life as you turn the key again. No turn over. Of course, just your luck. You should’ve taken your friend’s offer to borrow their car while yours was “being weird”. But no. You had to prove that your own car wasn’t possessed by Satan.

The irony is strong when you hear the low rumble of a motorcycle approaching behind you. You glance in the rearview mirror and catch a glimpse of it— black, sleek, and loud. It’s pulling in behind your stalled car like some kind of metal savior. The guy gets off it in one smooth motion, worn in denim and soft leather with wild curls, and to top it all off, rings glinting as he pushes his hair out of his face.

“Hey,” he calls as he jogs up beside your window, ducking down slightly with one hand pressed to the top of your car. “You okay in there?”

You roll the window down halfway and blink up at him. He looks like he walked out of a hot biker calendar. Except, you know, a bit more real. His jeans are grease stained, you could see a homemade faded Corroded Coffin T-shirt that looked like it had seen better days since the 90’s, hair greying slightly, and a pair of wide brown eyes that seem way too gentle for someone built like a God.

“Car died,” you say softly, suddenly a little sheepish under his gaze. “Pretty sure it hates me.”

He grins, standing up a bit straighter, “Let me take a look, yeah? I speak fluent piece-of-shit car.”

You stare at him through your half opened window, unsure of what to make of him, “You a mechanic or just… good with insults?”

“Both.” He winks at you, then adds with the most charming smile you’ve ever seen a man wear, “Name’s Eddie. Eddie Munson.”

Of course it is. A perfect name for a dreamy man.

You pop the hood, and open the car door to slide out of it. He slides off his jacket, placing it out of the way and then he leans over, poking around while you stand back. You watch him mutter to himself as he checks connections, pokes at belts, and scowls at your battery. That faded grey t-shirt had a few holes in the hemline and it was riding up his back to show just a sliver of skin above the waist of his jeans. If you look close enough you could even see a bit of his soft belly. You flick your eyes up, taking in the set of his jaw. He was focused, wound tight as he tries to locate the problem, there’s a few wrinkles by his eyes, laugh lines settling close to his mouth. You smile. He’s one of the most handsome men you’ve had walk into your life. After a few more minutes of your silent gawking, he slams the hood down again— it’s not hard, just enough to snap your attention back to the present. He wipes his hands on his jeans as he turns to you.

“She’s gonna need some love. Maybe a sacrifice or two,” he says with a chuckle. “Starter’s shot, and your alternator isn’t looking too friendly either.”

“Awesome,” you mutter. “You have tow trucks too? or do you just deliver bad news on the side of the road?”

He laughs and shakes his head, already pulling out his phone. “No, but I’ve got a buddy at the shop who can come grab it. We’ll get it to my garage, fix it up cheap. No dealership shit. I swear on my Iron Maiden collection.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and look him over again. “And you’re not just saying that to lure me into your mechanic lair?”

Eddie grins wider, those laugh lines and dimples on full display, like he appreciates the sass you’re shooting at him. “Hey, you’re welcome to keep your guard up.” He chuckles, sending a text out, as he shakes his head. He might as well give it a shot, “I do have a lair. It just also happens to have a killer lasagna and a very patient dog.”

“…You cook?”

“I’m a man of many talents,” he says softly, cocking an eyebrow up as he tests the waters. “Could come by sometime. I promise not to kill you. Unless you’re allergic to good conversation and metal records. Then maybe I’ll have to make a sacrifice… you know, for the car.”

You roll your eyes and let out a laugh, pulling up the contacts in your phone just to humor him. “I’ll think about it.” He flashed you a grin at that. He leaves you with his number and a promise that your car will be better than it was brand new— or at least newer than it looks now.

You don’t mean to text him. Really, you don’t. But a few nights later, after a really long day at work, a too-long shower, and a look in your fridge at the leftovers from the night before— you find yourself in your bed. Aimlessly scrolling through social media, that man and his greying curls heavy on your mind. You bite your lip as you think of his arms, splattered with dark ink. You think of that little bit of skin you saw as he leaned over your car. And you let out a breath, opening up your contacts app. You think about it a moment, really weighing your options. It’s just dinner, yeah? If it turned into more you’d be okay with that. He was funny, not too bad on the eyes, certainly one night of a lapsed judgement wouldn’t kill you. But he’s double your age. And you shake your head, scrolling past his number in your phone. But then you pause and scroll back.

Hey. That dinner still on the table?

You half expect him to ignore the message, it’d been days and the last time you spoke was about your car. But he responds shortly after..

Hell yes. Tonight? Come hungry.

When you pull up to his house— a small place outside of town with a beat-up mailbox with MUNSON scrawled across the side, you can see an old blue Chevy in the garage through the open door, right next to that pretty metal savior from the week before. His neighbors are close enough to almost share walls. But the porch light is on and you knock gently. Hearing shuffling around on the other side of the door for a moment, you wait, holding your bag to your chest. The door creaks open and there he is. He’s got an apron on, a shirt with the sleeves cut off showing each of the intricate tattoos adorning his skin. His hair is pulled back in a bun messily underneath a bandana to keep back the flyaways. His face a little flushed and red from the heat of the kitchen.

“You came,” he says softly, clearly shocked to see you standing at the door.

“Of course I did,” you say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “You said to come hungry… and I wanted to meet the dog.”

The dog is a sleepy little border collie named Ozzy, who’s spread out on the couch not paying any mind to the new visitor in his home. “He’s a real killer, can’t you tell?” Eddie jokes softly as he steps back to let you step in. He shuts the door behind you and makes his way back over to the kitchen with you close on his heels. He hands you a glass of red wine and says it’s “the cheap kind, on sale.”

The lasagna he whipped up is genuinely amazing. So is the music— a vinyl spinning in the background, something heavy that makes him close his eyes and nod along like he’s feeling it in his bones. You think you’ve hit the jackpot of men; handsome, a great cook, and has a great taste in music? You ask him about his band when he mentions it in an offhand comment— he still plays sometimes, mostly local gigs. You ask about the shop— he owns half of it now. You ask about the rings— he shrugs and says he’s always had em, “Sweetheart, these fingers were born for flair.”

By the time you finish with dinner, you’re laughing way more than you had planned to. You rest your elbows against the table top, watching as he leans back in his chair. He’s looking at you with a smile that’s almost shy.

“What?” you ask softly, suddenly feeling a bit sheepish yourself.

“Nothing,” he chuckles a bit. “I just…didn’t think you’d actually show. Let alone stick around… I really can’t believe it.” He shakes his head a bit, the bandana holding back midnight colored curls from his face.

You tilt your head, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Why not?”

He shrugs, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. Bashful. “People don’t usually stick around this long.” He says it like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop with you. But there’s something in his voice— something that makes you want to lean closer, so you do.

“You’re not as scary as you look, Munson.”

He smirks, that playful confidence you’d caught more glimpses of than the coyness he’s been exhibiting tonight.

“Careful. I’ve got a reputation to protect.” He pushes back from the table to stand, so you follow suit. And then there’s that moment— the pause that stretches quietly. A question that hangs in the air between two people who are both wondering the same thing; Are you going to kiss me? He steps closer just as the thought crosses your mind and you don’t move back.

“You want to see the garage?” he murmurs, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. His voice is low, a little rough, nothing like before. The apron he’d been wearing before dinner was long discarded, showing the front of the cutoff Dio shirt he’d been in. He reaches up, tugging the bandana from his head, the bun still keeping most of his hair contained.

You grin, biting the inside of your cheek. “That code for something?”

His laugh is quiet now. He’s nervous, that blush that had graced his cheeks earlier is back, plastered across his nose— mixing with the freckles that peppered his skin. As embarrassed as he may be, he holds your gaze. He bites the inside of his cheek and lets out a breath, whispering, “Only if you want it to be.”

You nod. You do. You so desperately want it to be.

And he moves closer in a blink of an eye. He kisses you like he’s been thinking about it since the moment he saw your broken-down car on the highway. His hands are tentative at first, one sliding up your back so gently you barely notice it’s there. And when you melt into him, your front pressing up against his body, he moves more confidently. The hand that wasn’t occupied by holding you close to him slides up and tangles in your hair. The pressure makes you gasp into his mouth. And he presses you up against the kitchen wall right between his dining table and countertop. The warmth of his chest is seeping through your shirt, his rings cold where they skim your waist.

You break the kiss just long enough to whisper, lips brushing against his as you do, “So, is this part of the tune-up package?”

He laughs again, cheeks redder than before and a bit more breathless now. “Oh, sweetheart. This is way more than the tune-up package… this is the extended warranty.”

You laugh, still pinned to the wall when he kisses you again. He’s slower this time, taking his time. He’s kissing you like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your mouth, like he’s memorizing the way you taste for when you’re inevitably gone again. His hands settle at your waist, his thumbs slip under the hem of your shirt and press in against your skin just enough to make you lean into him, instinctive. You’re needy and you both know it.

“God, you feel good,” he mutters against your lips before he’s dragging his mouth across your jaw, down your neck. He doesn’t stop until his teeth graze the spot just under your ear. “Can I—? Shit. I didn’t think you’d actually come, and now I’m two seconds from ruining my chances at a second date completely.”

“You didn’t ruin anything, Ed,” you breathe out softly. Your hands brushing over his shoulders. “You’re doing great, actually.”

He huffs a laugh as he shakes his head. Hair working its way out of his bun. You feel the rumble of his chest more than you hear it— his breath hot against your skin, his chest is rising against yours. And then he gets quieter, “Tell me to stop and I will.”

You reach down between your bodies and grab the hem of your own shirt, whispering, “Help me get this off before I change my mind.”

For him? That’s all it takes.

He tugs your shirt over your head and tosses it somewhere behind him. He scans your newly revealed skin so slowly it almost hurts him. His eyes are glinting in the dimmed light of his kitchen, words stuck on his tongue like he’s in the presence of something so holy that he can’t believe he gets to touch it— that look makes heat coil deep in your stomach. He kisses your chest so gently, you barely even feel the press of his lips. Then he’s trailing his fingers over your hip, up your side. He settles on your ribs, thumb brushing over your skin— he’s not in a rush, he can savor his time with you. He dips his head down again, stubbled chin scratching against your chest as he presses another kiss against your shoulder. His nose brushing against your neck as he slides up to press another kiss below your ear, against your jaw, and then finally your lips. He kisses you like he’s starved for it. His hands are warm and a little rough as they slide up your sides. One reaches back to settle on the clasp of your bra, greedy. You gasp into his mouth when he presses his hips into yours, he’s already hard, straining against his jeans.

It’s good. So good. So good you almost don’t notice when he adjusts his grip on you, trying to work the clasp loose (he’s been out of practice for longer than he’d like to admit), his free hand knocks something off the counter. You both flinch, breaking from the kiss, as a metal mixing bowl hits the kitchen tile with a clang that rings through the room like a damn alarm bell.

“Shit,” Eddie mutters, lifting his head to look you in the eyes. He’s breathless, cheeks flushed and lips kiss bitten. “That was… expensive-sounding.”

You lean forward resting your forehead against his jaw as you laugh softly. “That’s what you get for trying to fuck me next to your Gran’s stand mixer.”

You’re still catching your breath when you catch his eyes flick toward the back of the house. “You know,” he says slowly, voice dropping to a raspy whisper, “there’s a lot less cookware out in the garage.”

You lift a brow, that’s the second time he’s mentioned the damn place. “That supposed to be your version of romance?”

“It’s where I’m my truest self,” he says solemnly, nuzzling his nose against your hair, lips pressing a kiss against your temple. “Surrounded by tools, loud music, and we have absolutely zero chance of knocking over my Nana’s cornbread tin and denting it beyond repair.”

You narrow your eyes as he speaks. “If you’re just trying to get me out there so I’ll see your stupid truck, you left the door open and on my way in, I already—”

“No arguing, sweetheart,” he says with a tut, already tugging you toward the door. He reaches up and presses a button, until you can hear the tell tale sign of the garage door closing. “You’ve questioned the sanctity of my second favorite place in this entire house. Now you have to come see it, and that isn’t code for anything.”

You let him lead you with all his golden retriever enthusiasm— one hand in his, the other folded across your chest to keep your bra in place. You’re still half-laughing, that spark between you hasn’t dimmed in the slightest— it’s just waiting, simmering, threatening to boil over the second you get your lips back on his. He opens the door, helping you carefully down the two steps until you hit the cool concrete floor. The garage is warm and faintly smells like gasoline, it’s lit by a few overhead bulbs and the sliver of moonlight pouring through the window. You hadn’t realized it was this late. His tools are organized along the back wall in a way that only he would know where anything was. The blue chevy truck’s parked square in the middle, just as you had seen it earlier. His bike parked next to it. Windows rolled down and the hood closed.

“Wow,” you say, mock impressed as you look around the room. You take in the posters along the wall, worn in and incredibly obvious he’d saved them from his teenage years. “A whole garage dedicated to metal bands. You trying to marry me or something?” You joke softly, feeling hot as soon as Eddie turns his gaze back to you.

He tuts softly with a roll of his eyes, backing you up until your body is pressed between him and the front of his truck. “Careful, sweetheart. This truck’s seen a lot of action.”

“Uh-huh. Bet it’s jealous.”

“Oh, it will be in a minute.” He dips his head down letting his lips hover above yours. His breath is hot, his eyes are flicking from yours, down to where he’d like to be. He presses his hands against the hood of the truck on each side of your hips, leaning in until he can close the distance between the two of you in a kiss. It’s deeper this time, all of the teasing now burned away by the low throb of tension that’s been building since you stepped through his front door. He shifts his hips closer, until he’s flush against you— one hand leaving the hood to settle on your hip, like he’s finally letting himself have you. He slides it beneath your waistband, toying at the hem of your panties as he lets out the lowest groan you’ve ever heard a man make.

Your own hands snake upwards, resting on his shoulders. Your fingers brushing along taught muscle before you’re tugging the bun he was wearing loose, a shy little smile on your face. He shakes his hair free, letting his forehead fall onto your shoulder. His breath against your skin ragged as you grind your hips towards him— the bulge in his jeans growing by the second. He swears so much blood is running downwards, his knees may buckle. And before you can even catch your breath, he turns you around— your back to his front— and bends you forward over the cold metal hood of his truck. He leans his body over your own, pressing a kiss between your shoulder blades, his mouth at your ear as he finally unsnaps the clasp of your bra. “You okay with this?” he asks softly, his voice a little hoarse, from want, from need.

You nod, letting your own forehead rest against the metal. Your breath hitches in your throat, “More than okay, Eds.”

He laughs. “Good. Because I’ve been thinking about doing this since the second you popped your damn hood up on the side of the road.”

His hands slide the straps of your bra down off your shoulders, and he carefully tugs it out from under your body, tossing it over the mirror of the truck. He lets one hand trail forward, cupping your tit before giving it a squeeze. He presses another kiss against your shoulder, moving his hands back down to your hips. He thrusts against your ass, fully clothed. You gasp, a little dazed by the sudden shift in energy. He’s not teasing you anymore. He’s hungry, he’s greedy. And he wants you so badly.

You barely have time to register that his hands have left your body and he’s no longer pressed up behind you. You glance over your shoulder, gasping softly at the sight. He’s on his knees behind you, letting himself look up at you through those pretty eyelashes before his hands are back on you, parting your thighs with an ease you hadn’t seen him display before. “Are you—”

“Yeah,” he says softly, his tongue darting out to wet his lip. He lets his hands drift to your front, unbuttoning your pants and dragging the zipper down so slowly. When he’s finally got it, he makes a big deal of slowly tugging your pants down. He’s deliberate, letting himself get worked up by every inch of cotton that’s revealed to him. “I fuckin’ am.”

He runs a palm over the swell of your ass with an appreciative hum. Then he dips his head lower, pushing your thighs a bit further apart. He presses his mouth to the inside of your thigh, trailing soft, open-mouthed kisses up, up, up— until he’s right where you want him. “You’re shaking,” he murmurs, his breath hot over your clothed core, his eyes flick up to watch you, pressed over the hood. “You cold or just impatient?”

“Eddie, pl—”

He doesn’t make you say it. He really doesn’t need to. Not with the way your panties are sopping wet for him already. One hand settles on your hip as the other drags the soiled cotton down to join where your jeans are bunched around your feet. Dipping his head down once again, he slides his tongue over you, so slowly. You nearly collapse forward at the sensation. His grip is firm on you, keeping you steady, holding you there— his mouth is relentless, tongue plunging into your cunt before alternating to lick a fat stripe through your folds. He’s focused, intentional in a way that makes your toes curl with each prod of that muscle against you, with each nudge of his nose. He groans into your pussy when you moan his name, like he’s getting off on the sound of it. Like he could live here between your thighs forever. And it sends a shockwave of vibrations through your spine. That white hot coil in your belly starts to build oh-so-slowly.

You press your forehead to the truck, your eyes fluttering shut. You rock your hips back into his face, desperate for more. Desperate for him to let you cum.

“Fuck, you taste good,” he pulls away to press another kiss against your thigh, muttering softly. “How the hell am I supposed to let you leave after this?” And if those words didn’t make you keen, the flat of his tongue surely did when it runs up your thigh, almost to where you’d like him to be.

Your laugh stutters out halfway into a gasp, fingers curling into fists where they had been pressed against the truck. “Who said I wanted to leave?”

That earns you a sharp nip of his teeth, followed by a kiss right over the bite— so gentle it almost makes your head spin. And then just like how he’d gotten down there, with no warning at all, he pulls away.

“Eddie—” you breathe out, standing on the edge of what may be the best orgasm of your life.

He’s already standing, his own chest heaving— sweat clinging to his bangs and plastering his curls to his forehead. His eyes, blown wide as he unbuckles his belt— tugging his own jeans down just enough to free himself. “You still good?” he asks again, waiting for you to pack it up. Tell him you don’t fuck the town freaks. Even in his forties, Eddie’s scared of letting anyone in.

You nod, turning your head slightly to rest your cheek against the metal. “Fuck. Yeah. Please.”

That’s all the confirmation he needs. He wraps a hand around his cock, thumbing the base to line himself up with your pretty cunt. He’s so hard he can barely stand it, so he sinks into you with one smooth, steady, hard thrust that knocks the air completely out of your lungs. You gasp, bracing yourself on the hood. Your knees are already trembling. “Jesus Christ,” Eddie breathes behind you, both hands tight on your hips. His thumb rubbing circles into your skin. “You feel— fuck. You feel like a dream.” It’d been too long since he’d been here, balls deep inside a pretty girl. Let alone one probably half his age.

You try to respond to him, but the words in your head die in your throat before you even have a chance to speak them. He pulls back out until there’s nothing but an inch or so of his cock left inside of you, and then thrusts in again, harder this time. That stupid blue chevy rocks beneath you. You moan loud, unable to hold it in— and that’s when his hand snakes up from your hip, covering your mouth from behind as he leans over your body once again.

“Shh,” His lips are brushing against the shell of your ear. “You gotta be quiet, sweetheart. I’ve got neighbors.”

You whimper against his palm, letting your eyes close as he grinds his hips deeper inside of you. The hair growing back in at the base of his dick scratching against your skin burns in a way you’ll know you’ll feel it tomorrow. And he groans, letting himself get an eyeful of you. Fuck, you’re so pretty like this— bent over his truck, desperate and begging with just the rock of your hips. Taking everything he lets you have. He rocks his hips hard, steady, pushing deeper each time like he’s trying to ruin you for anyone else. His pace is unrelenting as you clench around his cock. One of his hands slips down the front of your body and between your legs, deft fingers finding your clit. He starts working against that little bundle of nerves in tight little circles, and it’s enough to make you start seeing stars. The pressure in your stomach growing more taut by the second “That’s it, baby.” he grits out between his teeth. “Let me feel you cum. You’re squeezin me. I know you’re close.”

And that band finally snaps with a particular hard thrust of his hips, dragging against that spongy front wall of yours. You cum with a choked out cry against his hand, in which he just presses harder against your lips. Your body is clenching around him so hard he nearly follows you into euphoria right then and there. He drops his head to your shoulder, the hand on your hip sliding around your waist to hold you as close as he can. His thrusts are slowing, getting a little sloppier. There’s another slip of your name, and two more thrusts, before he buries himself deep inside of you one final time. He squeezes his eyes shut, burying his nose against the nape of your neck as he spills inside of you. Cumming hard.

You stay pressed against one another there for a second— both of you panting, trembling, bodies still resting over the hood of his stupid truck. After another minute passes, he pulls his head up and presses a kiss to your shoulder. He’s a little shaky and a little pussy-drunk. “Well,” he chuckles a bit. “This service is definitely going in an ad for the shop. Imagine the business boom.”

You laugh breathlessly, turning your head just enough to catch a flash of his smile. “You put this in an ad and I’m keying your truck and the bike.”

He grins, curls falling every which way as he gives a gentle shake of his head. “Fair.”

He tugs you upright as he pulls out. And then he’s tugging your clothes— at least your panties and jeans— gently back into place, pressing soft kisses to your neck like he’s trying to soothe the bruises he left behind. And then he’s stepping back, grabbing your bra from the side mirror to help slide it back up your arms. “Next time,” he says softly, turning you to work the clasp closed. He smiles as he reaches down, tugging his own jeans up and zipping them with a little hiss, “I’ll show you the actual bedroom.”

You arch a brow, teasing him. “Next time, huh?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says, grinning like he’s already planning it and knowing you aren’t going to object, “you’re not getting rid of me that easy.”

tags ;; @peachyproserpina @missjadesfics @iheartgrayson @meetmeatyourworst @punkrockmlchael @prettycalla @getaapologist

#eddie munson #joseph quinn #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #mechanic!eddie #older!eddie #joe quinn #joey quinn #joseph anthony francis quinn #cw: smut #cw: age gap #cw: oral sex #cw: piv

434 notes · View notes

tv-moments · 5 months ago

Text

The Penguin

Season 1, “Homecoming”

Director: Helen Shaver

DoP: Jonathan Freeman

2 notes · View notes

sunshinesfreckless · 4 months ago

Text

Beach Hazard

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

Pairing: Lifeguard!Felix x Fem!Reader

Summary: Visiting your cousin in Australia for the first time without being prepared for the heat was one thing — but her not warning you about the real heat at the beach was another.

Warnings: Smut MDNI, Hot lifeguards

A/N: The reader does not have a specific skin color, ethnicity, or body type. The picture I chose from Pinterest is just to help visualize one of the bikinis better!

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

The sun was merciless. It clung to Y/N’s skin, wrapped around her like a second layer, and turned every breath into a sigh of defeat. She fanned herself with a limp hand, already regretting everything.

“You never told me Australia was this hot,” she groaned, dragging her sandals through the burning sand.

Yeji, unfazed and radiant as always, only shrugged. “I thought it was kinda obvious, you know?”

They finally reached the beach—a postcard come to life. Crystalline waves kissed the shore, sunlight danced off every surface, and bronzed bodies glistened like they’d been sculpted for worship. Y/N squinted through the brightness, adjusting to the sheer number of abs per square meter.

She dropped her towel, barely finding the will to sit down before Yeji nudged her hard in the ribs.

“Just so you know,” Yeji whispered, eyes twinkling behind her sunglasses. “A little tourist highlight here… are our lifeguards.”

Y/N raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You can’t be serious. Baywatch-type lifeguards don’t actually exist—”

A sharp whistle sliced through the air, and then… slow motion.

The first one bolted down the beach like it was a fashion runway. Long, black hair whipped behind him, his expression carved with intense focus. His frame was lean, but corded with elegant muscle, the kind that made you forget how to breathe. His lips—full, plush, kissable—pouted naturally, and his shoulder-to-waist ratio defied logic. He sprinted toward a jet ski like a Greek god late for Olympus.

“That’s Hyunjin,” Yeji murmured, voice reverent.

On the jet ski, a man sat waiting, stoic like a painting in motion. His thighs alone could crush watermelons, tanned and glistening as the sun traced every line of definition. His gaze was sharp as steel as he nodded at Hyunjin.

“That’s Lee Know.”

A third lifeguard joined them, tossing a life vest with a lazy flick of the wrist. His tattoos were etched into golden skin, glinting under the sunlight. His Muscles…. eye candy.

“Han,” Yeji added, grinning.

Behind him, another man held up a pair of binoculars, but his forearms stole the show. Veins, muscle, pure buffness.

“That’s Changbin.”

Two more figures were prepping a small rescue boat. One had a smile like a slice of mischief—Jeongin. Playful eyes, sun-streaked hair, and that lean, boyish physique.

Beside him, Seungmin—cool, calm. His jawline could’ve cut diamonds, Understated beauty, the kind that lingered.

And then—

Yeji inhaled. “My personal favorite… Mr. Bang.”

Bang Chan strode behind them all like he owned the beach. His back—broad, powerful, unfair—was on full display as he adjusted a rescue board under one arm. He was all tan, sinew, and control. The leader energy radiated.

Y/N tried to swallow, but her throat was dry. “You’ve gotta be kidding me—”

And then… he appeared.

From the ocean itself. A mirage made real.

He walked out of the water like a dream crashing into reality. Golden skin wet and glistening, every curve of his abs carved by the gods. Water rolled down his torso, catching on the sharp lines of muscle, and Y/N actually forgot what she was saying. He ran one hand through his soaked blonde hair, pushing it back to reveal pretty brown-eyes that accidentally locked with hers.

Time paused. Her lungs gave up.

His lips parted slightly, breath catching—and hers did too.

“Jesus,” Y/N whispered. “Who is that?”

Yeji smirked. “Felix.”

Y/N could only blink. Hello Felix…

Never in her life had Y/N felt so painfully, violently unfucked. It hit her like a freight train the moment he emerged from the water, all abs and attitude, and it hadn’t let up since. Her thighs clenched instinctively.

Holy. Shit.

“It’s nothing serious!” Changbin yelled toward the jet ski, giving a thumbs-up as Lee Know veered off with that stone-faced drama only he could pull off.

Hyunjin jogged over, hair flying behind him like he was in a shampoo commercial. “Did you see what’s up?”

“A woman thought she saw a shark,” Felix murmured, voice low and rough. “False alarm.”

His gaze drifted lazily back to the woman in a tiny white bikini, the kind that looked like it would disintegrate if the wind picked up. His eyes lingered—just for a second—then flicked back toward his friends.

“Mate, we’re still on duty,” Chan said, clapping him on the shoulder like a disappointed dad.

Felix just gave a low, cheeky laugh—the kind that made Y/N’s stomach flip. “I’m on watch.”

He grabbed the whistle Chan held out, slipping it around his neck with lazy precision. Then came the sunglasses.

“I know you’re on watch. I’m your boss,” Chan muttered. “But I literally just caught you ogling a girl.”

Felix raised one perfect brow and waved it off, already turning to patrol the beach like he owned the damn coastline.

Y/N’s jaw dropped. She wasn’t breathing. She couldn’t breathe.

“He literally just looked at me,” she gasped, gripping Yeji’s arm like a woman in spiritual distress.

“Felix?” Yeji asked, amused.

“Mhm.”

“Sure, sweetie,” Yeji snorted, clearly unconvinced.

Y/N turned her head slowly, eyes tracking Felix like he was prey and she was starving. “No, I need to have him.”

Yeji burst into laughter. “Good luck. All of them are fellow students in my class at my college, and I’ve been trying to get into Chan’s pants since high school.”

“Any luck?”

“Not even a crumb.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes, watching Felix’s golden skin disappear into the distance, his shoulders flexing with every step. Her voice dropped to a whisper.

“I’m going to make that man sin.”

The plan formed fast. Reckless. Beautiful. Stupid.

Y/N sat up, adjusting her bikini top like she was about to enter battle.

“No,” Yeji hissed. “Don’t even think about it.”

“I have to,” Y/N whispered. “He’s walking away, Yeji. Away from my life. My future. My Body. My womb.”

“You’re insane.”

“I’m in heat.”

Yeji groaned and dragged her sunglasses down. “Please tell me you’re not about to fake a drowning.”

“Not drowning. Just… distress. Sexy distress.”

“Oh my God. Y/N, no—”

But she was already walking—no, striding—toward the shore, her hair catching the breeze. She reached the shallows, flipped her head dramatically, and waded in.

Step. Step. Gasp.

She stumbled, flailing her arms like she was being attacked by invisible seaweed. “Ah! Oh no—help! Help me! I—I think I twisted my ankle in the water!”

Yeji slapped her own face. “Jesus Christ.”

A whistle shrieked.

Y/N turned in slow motion, ready to fall into the arms of her dripping wet, Australian savior.

But it wasn’t Felix.

It was Hyunjin.

Her smile faded.

Hair flying (WHY WAS HIS HAIR ALWAYS FLYING), eyes full of panic and beauty, he wrapped his arms around her effortlessly and lifted her like she weighed nothing. “You’re okay. I’ve got you,” he said, voice low and soft.

And sure, it was nice. Sure, he was an Adonis. But he wasn’t Felix.

She let him carry her all the way to the towels, fully committed to the bit, but as soon as her feet touched the sand, she peeled away like an annoyed cat.

“Thanks,” she said stiffly, and stormed back to her towel.

Yeji stared at her like she’d lost her mind. “What? Hyunjin isn’t enough for your greed?”

Y/N dropped onto the towel and grabbed her water bottle like it was a flask. “Believe me,” she muttered. “I was this close to showing Hyunjin my tits.”

She sighed.

“But I’m going to stay loyal to Felix.”

────୨ৎ────

She “accidentally” kicks her water bottle too far and jogs after it like a distressed deer.

Cue: Seungmin.

Polite. Kind. Hot in an infuriatingly nonchalant way.

He jogs over, picks up the bottle, and hands it to her with a smile so charming it could be a toothpaste ad.

“You dropped this.”

Y/N forces a smile. “Thank you… so much.”

Yeji just snorts behind her towel. “So loyal, huh?”

────୨ৎ────

She pretends to get stung by a jellyfish. “Ow! My leg—oh no—what if it’s venomous?!”

Jeongin appears, pulling off his shirt with impressive speed.

“Where is it? I’ll check for swelling—do you need me to pee on it?”

“What? NO! God, no! I’m fine—I’m fine now.”

Jeongin tilts his head. “You sure? I’ve been trained for this.”

“I don‘t want YOUR pee,” Y/N mutters under her breath and limps away, emotionally wounded.

Yeji looked at her disgusted and shocked.

────୨ৎ────

She fake-coughs dramatically, clutching her throat like she’s choking on saltwater air.

This time it’s Changbin. Concerned. Sincere.

“Do you need CPR?!”

Y/N widens her eyes. “N-no…?”

He gets closer. “Are you sure? You don’t look okay.”

She looks up at the sky, whispering, “Why do you mock me, God?”

────୨ৎ────

She splashes herself with water and flops down like she fainted.

Bang Chan runs up with a literal first-aid kit and more authority than a SWAT team.

“I need you to stay still, okay? Can you hear me?”

Y/N stares up at him. “You’re… not Felix.”

Chan blinks. “Um. No?”

She sighs. “Then leave me here. Let the sun take me.”

Yeji cackles so hard she nearly chokes on her mango smoothie. “You’re an embarrassment to this family.”

────୨ৎ────

Y/N glares at the sea, where Felix is, of course, walking along the waterline, shirt off, towel over his shoulder, hair wet and golden like he just stepped out of a wet dream.

She slams her fists into the towel. “WHY does God keep sending other hot lifeguards?! I don’t want the entire calendar, I want SEPTEMBER !”

────୨ৎ────

The next morning, Y/N burst into Yeji’s room like a woman on a mission.

“Get your towel. We’re going back.”

Yeji groaned from under the blanket. “I am not emotionally strong enough to watch you throw yourself at lifeguards again.”

Y/N clasped her hands like she was begging for water in a desert. “Please. I just need one more chance.”

“…You said that yesterday.”

“And I meant it then. But today I’m serious.”

Ten minutes later, Yeji was dragging her cooler through the sand, watching Y/N strut ahead in a bikini so small it could be mistaken for shoelaces. Leopard print. Glossy lips. Hair beachy and bouncy. A menace.

And there he was.

Felix.

Standing near the lifeguard tower, talking to Seungmin while tying his hair up. The muscles in his arms flexed as he looped the elastic around his damp blond strands, biceps and shoulders glistening in the sun like someone had Photoshopped reality.

Y/N stopped walking. “That’s it. This is the day I make him fall.”

“Or call security,” Yeji muttered, finding them a shady spot.

────୨ৎ────

She walks past the lifeguard stand, slow and deliberate. She bends to pretend to fix her flip-flop. Her butt is absolutely facing him.

Nothing. No reaction.

She peeks.

He’s looking at a seagull.

“You’re watching a bird?” she seethes.

Yeji sips her iced latte, unbothered from afar. “Damn, even the bird’s getting more attention.”

────୨ৎ────

She pretends to drop sunscreen and bends very slowly to pick it up. She even lets out a small gasp. Like it’s so hard to pick something up off the sand.

Felix jogs past her—past her—shouting something into his walkie-talkie.

“He didn’t even see me!” she hisses.

“He’s literally working,” Yeji deadpans.

────୨ৎ────

She finally gathers the courage to walk up to the tower. Felix is leaning on the rail, looking like an ocean god sent to torment her.

“Hi,” she says, as seductively as possible.

“Hey,” he says, smiling—but friendly. Polite. Professional.

She freezes. “I… like your whistle.”

Your whistle? Your WHISTLE?

“Thanks,” he chuckles, then leans over the edge. “Hey, Seungmin! Can you cover my post for five? I’m gonna refill my water bottle.”

YES! A window!

But before she can say anything else, he hops down and jogs right past her.

Y/N turns to Yeji, who is visibly crying from behind her sunglasses.

“I’m going to die alone.”

“No, you’re just going to die of dehydration from how hard you’re thirsting.”

Y/N flops onto her towel in defeat. “This is the worst vacation of my life.”

Just as she’s about to bury herself in sand out of shame, Felix calls out behind her, towel slung over his shoulder, voice teasing:

“Leopard print, huh? Bold.”

She jerks upright. “What?!”

He’s already walking away again. But this time, he smirks.

She turns to Yeji, completely unhinged. “Did you see that? That was flirting.”

“Or basic human interaction.”

“I am winning.”

────୨ৎ────

But the Euphoria didn’t last long……the rest of the day, Y/N gave up.

No sultry poses. No hair flips. No fake injuries.

She was just… tanning. Peacefully. Like a normal, non-horny person.

Face down, book open, towel beneath her. Her hair tied, sunglasses on, headphones in. She barely even looked in Felix’s direction.

Which apparently meant everyone else did.

“Who’s that?” Han asked, squinting through his sunglasses as he handed out ice pops from the cooler.

Seungmin tilted his head. “That’s Yeji’s cousin, Y/N. She’s been here two days in a row. Yesterday she tried to drown herself like three times.”

Jeongin laughed. “You mean the fake fainting girl.”

Felix frowned, not even sure why. “Why are you all looking over there?”

Han grinned, obnoxiously. “Because she looks hot.”

Felix scoffed. “She’s just reading.”

“Exactly,” Han said, chewing on his popsicle. “Effortless hot. That’s rare.”

Felix followed their gazes—casually, of course. And yeah. Okay. Maybe she did look a little too good just lying there in the sun, legs glistening, hips arched slightly, bikini flattering her every curve. She wasn’t looking at them.

Not looking at him.

He looked away, annoyed for no reason. “Focus. You’re on duty.”

But the rest of the afternoon, his eyes kept drifting. Especially when some random guys walked by a little too slowly. He tensed every time they looked at her twice. When one guy tripped trying to check her out, Felix nearly stood up.

He didn’t, though.

Didn’t matter.

Not his problem.

────୨ৎ────

Y/N came alone this time.

No Yeji. No plan. Just her book, her floral bikini, and a promise to herself to act normal.

She found her same spot, laid out her towel, and sank into the sun. She didn’t look around. She didn’t need to.

But she did feel it—the prickling sensation of being watched.

Felix was on his post, up in the tower. Sunglasses on. Elbows on the rail.

Watching.

Not obviously.

Just enough.

She smiled to herself but didn’t look up.

A few hours later, the sun was high, and she decided to take a quick dip. She set her book down, tied her hair up, and stepped into the water, sighing at the coolness against her skin.

She was waist-deep when two boys—maybe sixteen, seventeen—started splashing nearby.

They were giggling. Whispering. Then.

Snap.

She felt the back of her bikini top loosen.

“What the—?!”

She turned just as one of the boys tossed her top into the deeper waves, cackling. “Oops! Didn’t mean to!”

Y/N let out a scream, arms crossing over her chest, eyes wide with panic. “Are you kidding me?! What the hell?!”

The boys were still laughing, not realizing how serious she was.

But someone else did.

Felix was already sprinting from the tower.

His feet hit the sand hard, running full speed. Past the shoreline, crashing into the water like a force of nature. One of the boys saw him coming and bolted. The other stood frozen, half in shock, half in fear.

Felix didn’t stop.

He reached her, wrapping his arms around her from behind in one fluid motion, he turned her around his chest pressing against her breasts, strong arms holding her protectively.

“Got you,” he murmured, his voice low—too low—and calm despite everything.

Y/N was shaking. Not from the cold. Not from the water. From him. His arms. His voice. The sheer intimacy of it.

Her heart was somewhere in her throat.

“Stay still,” he said, one hand still holding her close, the other reaching out to catch the drifting bikini top with a perfect, practiced swipe.

Then his voice snapped like thunder toward the boys.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His accent hit harder when he was angry. “You think this is funny? You touch anyone like that again and you’re not just getting kicked off the beach—you’ll be talking to police. Get lost.”

The boys scattered like roaches.

He turned back to her, gentler now.

“Hold on,” he murmured. “I’ve got it.”

With a strange tenderness, he helped her tie the top back on, his fingers brushing along her back, slow and methodical, careful not to look even though her blush was violently visible.

Then—just as he finished fastening the strap—he leaned in slightly, voice lower than it had ever been.

“Shame it wasn’t me who took it off.”

Her eyes snapped wide open. “What did you—?”

But he was already walking away, water dripping down his back, shoulders flexing with each step as he moved toward the shore like nothing happened.

“FELIX?!”

He didn’t turn around.

────୨ৎ────

Y/N sat wrapped in a towel like a sad burrito.

Yeji had finally arrived. “You had one job. Not to flash the beach.”

“I didn’t flash anyone, I got assaulted by middle schoolers.”

Yeji squinted at her. “Okay, fair. But can we talk about how you’re glowing right now? What happened?”

Y/N stared into the middle distance, whispering: “He said it.”

“Said what?”

“He said shame it wasn’t me who took it off.”

Yeji almost choked on her drink. “I’m sorry—EXCUSE ME?? Sir Felix ‘No Fun, Just Whistles’ said THAT?”

“WHILE tying it back on.”

Yeji stared at her in awe. “You have to seduce him today.”

“I need to interrogate him first.”

────୨ৎ────

She walks up to the lifeguard stand later, trying to be chill. Super casual. Not at all like she’s having an internal breakdown over a whisper.

He’s sitting there, eating from a container of cut-up mango like he didn’t just ruin her inner peace forever.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey.” He looks up, relaxed, tongue flicking a mango slice into his mouth.

Unacceptable.

She blurts: “Did you mean it?”

He pauses. “Mean what?”

Her entire soul short circuits. “You know… the thing. The top. The taking-off thing.”

He raises a brow, amused. “Are you asking if I’m a pervert, or if I have taste?”

“I—what—no, I mean—yes?!”

He leans back, watching her squirm. “Maybe I just wanted to shut you up.”

“…What?”

“All that seduction. The sunscreen. The flip-flop. The fake fainting. The sunscreen again.”

Her mouth drops open. “You saw all that?!”

“I’m on watch,” he says, smug. “I see everything.”

She makes a strangled noise and nearly falls over trying to flee the scene.

────୨ৎ────

Y/N came prepared.

Leopard print? Too obvious. Floral? Too soft. Today, she wore nothing but white again. Her bikini bottom sat dangerously low, and she wasn’t wearing a top—just lying face-down on the towel with her arms folded under her head, chin resting on her wrists, legs stretched long and lazy. Her hair was in a loose bun, sunglasses on, lip gloss shining even under the sun.

And she knew he was watching.

Yeji was next to her, pretending to scroll her phone but clearly eyeing her like she’d lost her mind. “You’re insane.”

“He likes me,” Y/N said simply.

“I’m sorry, is this ‘he’ the same Felix that laughed when you pretended to drown? That Felix?”

“He told me it was a shame he didn’t undress me.”

Yeji went dead silent.

Y/N smirked and arched her back a little more, pushing her hips up so her ass caught the light, the curve dramatic, deliberate, and lethal.

“…Babe, you’re not even flirting anymore. You’re staging a porn.”

“I’m tanning.”

“You’re sinning.”

And then—

Crunching footsteps.

They both froze.

“…No fucking way,” Yeji whispered, staring over her sunglasses.

Y/N didn’t look. She felt it.

Felix crouched beside her towel, close enough that the shade of his figure darkened the sun on her shoulder. She smelled salt, sunscreen, and whatever cologne was hanging off his damp skin today.

“You’re going to get a sunburn on your back,” he said lowly, voice brushing the shell of her ear.

Y/N didn’t move.

Yeji’s jaw was somewhere in the sand.

Felix tilted his head. “Need help with the sunscreen?”

Silence.

Then—Y/N turned her head just slightly toward him, lips parted. “Do I look like I’d say no?”

He chuckled, not answering right away. He reached for the bottle Yeji had carelessly tossed beside them and popped it open with a click. Squeezed a generous amount onto his palm. The sound alone made Y/N squirm.

And then—his hands.

Warm.

Firm.

Slow.

Moving over her shoulders, across her back, then lower—his thumbs brushing her waist, fingers splaying wide. She gasped softly when he reached the small of her back, just above the waistband of her bikini bottom.

Y/N bit her lip.

His hands were so steady. Too steady for someone who should be flustered. But that was Felix—infuriatingly composed while she melted into the towel like butter on a grill.

He rubbed slow, methodical circles into her back, and every press of his thumbs felt like a kiss dipped in warning. You’re playing with fire.

And she was. Happily.

Yeji was still frozen beside them, pretending to scroll through her phone but definitely watching through her sunglasses.

“Relax,” Felix murmured, voice deep and smooth. “You’re tense.”

Y/N scoffed, half into the towel. “Wonder why.”

“Maybe it’s because you’ve been throwing yourself at lifeguards all week.”

“Not all lifeguards,” she mumbled.

“No?”

“Just one.”

Felix’s fingers paused—just a beat.

Then he smoothed the lotion lower, brushing close to the sides of her chest, but never quite crossing the line. He knew exactly what he was doing, the bastard.

“So I should feel special?”

She could feel the smirk in his voice. That cocky confidence, just barely covering something hungrier beneath it.

Then—

He leaned in.

His lips ghosted just above her ear, breath warm. “I like when you beg for attention.”

Her whole body stiffened—and not from the cold.

Before she could answer, he was already up. Walking away. Cool and casual, like he hadn’t just lit a match and tossed it over his shoulder.

She looked up in disbelief, eyes trailing after him. His back muscles were so unfair.

Yeji finally spoke.

“Are we going to pretend that didn’t just happen or—?”

────୨ৎ────

The lifeguard hut was humming with energy—half of them shirtless, all of them sun-kissed and cocky, talking over each other and sipping iced coffees.

Y/N walked in like she belonged there.

And technically, she didn’t.

But technicalities were for people who weren’t being ignored by the blond menace known as Felix.

Yeji had tried to stop her. “Y/N, I swear, if you go in there and start fake-rashing your way into his lap—”

“It’s not fake,” Y/N lied. “I’m itchy. And mad. And petty.”

The door creaked open behind her and heads turned. All of them. Like some Greek god convention had a roll call.

“Oh—hey,” Han said first, eyes already scanning her frame with his usual curious glint. “Everything alright?”

Y/N pouted. Dramatically. “I think I’m having a reaction to the sunscreen or something. There’s like… a rash?”

“Where?” Jeongin stood up so fast his chair squeaked.

“Need help?” offered Seungmin, already pulling on latex gloves from somewhere, like he’d trained for this exact emergency.

“Boys, please,” Chan said, chuckling. “Give her some space.”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Y/N said sweetly. “It’s just—kind of hard to reach.”

Felix, sitting back with his feet up on the table and sunglasses on, hadn’t so much as flinched. His head turned lazily, a single brow raised above the rim of his shades.

“No comment?” she asked pointedly, arms crossed under her chest.

He shrugged. “I’m not a dermatologist.”

“You’re not funny.”

“Debatable.”

The other boys looked between the two of them like it was a tennis match from hell.

“Oh really?” Y/N said, tone sharpening into sugar-dagger territory. “You won’t help?”

“I’m on break,” Felix said simply.

“That’s it,” Y/N muttered.

And then—without fanfare, without shame—she dropped her bikini top.

“The rash is right here,” she said, pointing at her bare chest like she was unveiling the Mona Lisa.

The room short-circuited.

Jeongin turned around so fast he tripped over a stool.

Han fell off his chair.

Chan stared into the corner of the ceiling like he was mentally in church.

Seungmin had gone into full CPR mode and was frantically opening the first-aid kit with shaking hands.

Felix?

Felix exhaled the heaviest sigh known to man. “Y/N.”

“What?” she snapped, arms flaring with indignation. “If you won’t help, someone else will.”

But just as she tied her top back on with all the wounded pride of a tragedy heroine—her bravado slipped.

Literally.

Her chest started itching.

Burning, actually.

“…wait.”

She scratched her collarbone. Her neck. Her stomach.

“Wait. Oh no. Oh no no no—”

“Do you… actually have a rash?” Jeongin asked, blinking.

Y/N didn’t answer. She was already lifting her top again (to check, not to seduce anyone this time, thank you very much), and what she saw made her shriek.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT.”

There were red blotches. Angry ones. Spreading up her sides and over her chest like she’d rolled in poison ivy and then insulted its mother.

Han leaned in, still lying half on the floor. “Okay but that’s definitely not acting anymore.”

Felix was already up, all trace of apathy gone. “Shit. Emergency bed. Now.”

Before she could argue, he scooped her up bridal-style—her dramatic ass, red patches and all—and laid her on the narrow cot in the back of the hut.

“I didn’t mean it,” she whispered, near tears. “I was just being dramatic.”

“No way,” said Seungmin, who was now dabbing her chest with some kind of cooling gel like a very professional nurse who wasn’t looking too hard.

“Is it from the water?” Chan asked, peering at the redness.

“She swam right after lunch,” Han added.

“Oh my God,” Y/N groaned, hiding her face. “I flashed all of you and now I’m actually allergic to the ocean.”

That was when Yeji burst through the hut door, cheeks pink from laughter, holding her phone like someone had just live-texted her the whole incident.

“WHAT HAPPENED—” she gasped, doubling over when she saw Y/N laid out on the emergency bed like some half-naked cautionary tale.

“Don’t,” Y/N said weakly, pointing at her. “Don’t you dare. How did you even find out !”

Hyunjin lowered his Phone and avoided Y/Ns Eyes.

“I told you not to pretend to have a rash.”

“I WASN’T PRETENDING—ANYMORE.”

Felix stood beside her, arms crossed, lips twitching like he was one laugh away from completely losing it.

“Next time you want my attention,” he said lowly, “just say hi.”

Y/N stared up at him in betrayal. “I already did once ! You ignored me. I hate you now !”

“You look hot like this,” he said.

She blinked.

Yeji cackled.

“…I hate you slightly less.”

────୨ৎ────

“Hey, do you guys have more of that aloe gel?” she asked, approaching the lifeguard hut where Felix was adjusting one of the rescue boards. “My skin’s still kind of itchy.”

He glanced at her. A tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. Storage shed.”

He turned without another word and walked off toward the back of the hut. Y/N followed, pretending not to care that he hadn’t even looked at her bikini today.

The metal latch creaked as he opened the shed. She peeked inside—dim, stuffy, packed with boards, towels, boxes. It smelled like sunscreen, sea salt, and wet fabric.

“Do you need help finding it?” she asked, trying not to sound like she was begging for attention.

But before she could step back—

Clang.

The door closed behind her.

Click.

Locked.

Y/N blinked into the darkness. “…What the—”

Felix was there.

Close.

Too close.

She backed up until her shoulder hit the cool fiberglass of a surfboard. Her breath caught. He hadn’t touched her. Not yet.

He didn’t need to.

“You’ve been driving me insane,” he said lowly, eyes gleaming in the narrow slice of light. “That rash stunt? You really dropped your bikini top for them?”

She swallowed. “If you weren’t so goddamn unbothered I wouldn’t have to—”

His hand hit the wall beside her head.

She stopped.

He leaned in, lips brushing her ear.

“You followed me in here, babe. You sure you want what you’re asking for?”

Dim sunlight sliced in through the slats, streaking across Felix’s face, casting shadows over the sharp line of his jaw.

She should’ve said something clever. Should’ve smirked. Should’ve denied it.

Instead, she whispered, “Yes.”

And then he moved.

One step. One shift of his hips—and he pressed her to the wall, his body caging hers, the hard line of his cock grinding slow and rough against the thin fabric of her bikini bottoms.

She gasped. He exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for days.

“I’ve been patient,” he muttered, mouth dragging down her throat. “Too patient.”

Her fingers fumbled for something—his shoulder, his hair, anything to hold onto. But it didn’t matter.

His hand slid down between them, tugging the fabric of her bikini to the side. She barely had time to register the touch before his fingers were brushing over her folds, already slick.

“You’re soaked.”

“Felix—”

“You’ve been walking around like this? All week?” He growled into her skin. “What if someone else had touched you first?”

“Then you should’ve gotten there sooner,” she snapped—then gasped as he pushed two fingers inside her, curling them deep.

Her legs buckled. He caught her with a low chuckle.

“No time for games now, quit talking like a Brat” he said, already shoving his shorts down just enough to free himself. She felt him—hot, thick, flushed against her inner thigh. Her eyes widened.

“Lift your leg. Yeah—like that.” He hooked one of her thighs over his hip, steadying her against the wall. “You’re gonna take me just like this.”

And then he pushed in.

Slow at first. Stretching her open inch by inch, until she cried out against his shoulder.

“Fuck—fuck—”

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he groaned, dragging his hips back before slamming forward, filling her deep. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? You wanted me to ruin you.”

The words made her clench around him.

His rhythm built fast. Brutal. He was practically slamming her against the wall now, one hand gripping her thigh, the other braced beside her head, anchoring them both.

The storage shed echoed with the wet slap of skin on skin. Rescue boards rattled. A life vest fell from a shelf. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe—just felt.

“Turn around.”

“What—?”

“Turn. Around. Now.”

He pulled out with a grunt, spun her to face the wall, and bent her forward over the stacked beach towels. The moment her hands hit the crate, he was inside her again, deeper this time—rougher.

“Look at you,” he hissed. “Moaning like a whore, letting me fuck you in a damn shed.”

She couldn’t even deny it. Her eyes rolled back when his hand slipped around her front to rub harsh circles on her clit.

The noises were filthy. The air stank of sex and sweat and sun.

And when she came—biting down on her arm to muffle the scream—he kept fucking her through it, chasing his own high until his breath hitched.

Then he pulled out and finished across the curve of her ass, panting like he’d just survived a shipwreck.

Silence.

Only the sound of their breathing.

Her knees gave out. He caught her again, wrapped her up against his chest as her body trembled.

“…We just had sex on a crate of lost-and-found goggles,” she croaked.

Felix kissed her temple. “Hot.”

His breath was still ragged when he kissed her again.

Not gentle.

Not soft.

It was needy.

Y/N barely had time to register it. Her head spun, her thighs still trembled from the first time, but Felix was already reaching for her again, dragging her bikini bottoms all the way down this time and letting them fall around her ankles. She shivered.

“F-Feel like jelly,” she whispered.

“Then let me hold you up.”

He turned her, pressed her back against the shed wall once more, and hoisted her effortlessly—her legs wrapping around his waist on instinct.

His cock was hard again. Already.

She stared at him, breathless. “How do you even—?”

“I told you I wasn’t done.”

And just like that—he was inside her again.

No warm-up. No mercy.

She cried out, arms wrapping around his neck as he slammed into her, the motion jarring and raw and insane, but her body took it. Welcomed it. Soaked for it.

The surfboards rattled. Sand fell from the shelves. A whistle clattered to the ground.

He buried his face in her neck, sweat dripping from his temple to her collarbone.

“You feel so fucking good,” he growled. “Tight little pussy still clenching like she didn’t just milk me dry five minutes ago.”

She moaned and bit down on his shoulder to keep from screaming.

He fucked her harder.

The rhythm was relentless. The slap of his hips against her ass. Her heels digging into his back. Her hands desperately clawing at his lifeguard tank top. It was rougher than before—less about teasing, more about need.

She couldn’t even speak anymore.

Just moaned. Just whimpered.

His name on a loop in her mouth.

Felix. Felix. Felix.

“Gonna make you cum again,” he panted. “Wanna feel you squeeze me. Wanna hear those sweet little sounds you make when you lose it.”

“I—I can’t—”

“You can,” he snarled, and reached between them again, rubbing her clit with the kind of cruel rhythm that shattered her.

She came with a strangled gasp, head thrown back, nails digging into his shoulders.

But he didn’t stop.

Kept pounding into her while she was still spasming, overstimulated and whimpering, until he finally groaned her name and pulled out just in time—again—finishing hot and fast against her inner thigh with a choked moan.

They slumped against the wall together. Panting. Drenched. Shaking.

He looked down at her legs and laughed.

“You’re trembling.”

“No shit,” she mumbled into his chest. “I think my soul left my body halfway through.”

“I’m gonna have to carry you out of here.”

“Absolutely not.”

He kissed her again, this time softer. Lazy. Almost smug.

“…I love my life,” she whispered against his lips.

Felix grinned.

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

POST-CREDIT SCENE (Wrap it up Marvel)

The air in the shed was thick—salt, sex, and shame clinging to the wooden beams.

Felix peeled a towel from the nearest crate and gently wiped between Y/N’s thighs, trying not to laugh when she squirmed.

“You okay?”

“No.” She was still breathless. “You broke me.”

“You’re walking. Eventually.”

He kissed her knee. Then her inner thigh. Then pulled her bikini bottoms back up, slow and gentle, like he hadn’t just ravaged her against the wall twice in a row.

He tucked himself back into his lifeguard shorts, ran a hand through his wild hair, and muttered, “We look so guilty.”

“We are guilty.”

She fixed her top, cheeks flushed, trying to rub some sand off her elbows with zero dignity left in her body. “I feel like I’ve got sunscreen in places it should never go.”

“Can i have your Number ?“ Felix interrupted her. She blinked at him. “I would even give you my Social Security Number“

Felix opened the shed door, the blinding sunlight making them both flinch like goblins.

Then—

“THERE you are!”

Yeji.

Standing ten feet away with a coconut in her hand and the biggest grin on her face.

Next to her—Chan. Shirtless. Holding a pool noodle like a sword.

Y/N froze.

Chan tilted his head. “You guys were gone for a while.”

Yeji took one look at Y/N’s flushed face, damp hair, and the towel clutched around her waist—and lost it.

Dropped her coconut. Fell to her knees. Screamed with laughter.

Y/N just stood there, mortified, as Yeji literally wheezed, gasping between fits:

“Your hair—your HAIR is still pressed flat on one side—you leaned against something! Oh my GOD—!”

Felix slid an arm around Y/N’s waist casually. “We were checking inventory.”

Chan raised an eyebrow. “In the shed?”

Felix: “A very… thorough inspection.”

The rest of the team started glancing over now. Hyunjin blinked at their reappearance, clocked the rumpled towel, the shell-shocked look on Y/N’s face—and immediately turned away, muttering, “Nope. Not my business.”

But Felix leaned into Y/N, kissed her hair, and whispered, “You good?”

She nodded. And then—louder, so everyone could hear:

“I love my life!”

She raised her Fist into the Air.

“I MADE IT ! The hard work paid OFF“

Felix snorted and pulled her to the Ocean to get her more Clean.

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