#it's just a moment for physics and movement speed

[swan2swan]

This looks like it was an animation test...

[lostazuree]

JJK boys who'd go wild if their girl gives good blowjob? Yeah. Have a great day. <3

ᯓ✧౨ৎ— Pretty Lips, Stuffed Tip.

✦ ᴊᴊᴋ ᴍᴇɴ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨��𝐬𝐢𝐬: Sucking your boyfriend off. Smut, NSFW, Head.

ꜰᴇᴀᴛᴜʀɪɴɢ: Gojo Satoru, Kento Nanami, Toji Fushiguro, Ryomen Sukuna, Geto Suguru & Choso Kamo.

ɢᴏᴊᴏ ꜱᴀᴛᴏʀᴜ .ᐟ

Not that you'd know, maybe, But his mind goes on an absolute overdrive when you start running your tongue over his length. Gripping the armrest of the couch like his life depended on it when you engulf him in your mouth. He's so happy, so giddy, his hand already sliding down to tilt your chin up, his eyes rolling back when you look at him while sucking him off. He just forgets that he's some damn cocky idiot who's high and mighty, he is genuinely that bewitched, so helpless and right where you want him to be, he still wouldn't admit it though. But you can just see how hazy his eyes are, he looks so wrecked. He looks down at you with so much adoration and desire, like you've just made his day. He bites his lips, he has to literally recall every single event that has passed in his life just to not finish so easily, because damn, this is too much, you are too much. "This one time I...fuck, I'm gonna cum-.. I got stuck in a locker-..ngh."

ᴋᴇɴᴛᴏ ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ .ᐟ

He just can't deny you like this, and you know that. He can't deny it when you ask him so pleadingly if you can suck him off under his office table. "Kento, please. You won't even notice I'm under your desk. Please." With those vixen eyes? He's sold. "Fine." He says, giving in. But before he can react, he's already in your mouth and he has to suppress a gasp because, "Holy Shit..you're taking it so well, love." His head falls back against his chair, eyes shut closed as his fingers tangle in your hair, guiding your movements. Low groans leaving his lips as he gently urges you to take more of him, slowly, surely. His reports are forgotten, scattered on the table, he can do anything but focus on those at the moment. His glasses are long tossed aside, tie loosened because damn the weather's hot today.

ᴛᴏᴊɪ ꜰᴜꜱʜɪɢᴜʀᴏ .ᐟ

It's nothing new for him, right? Nothing surprising, right? Wrong! Because that's literally anything but what his reactions tell you. He tries, tries and fails to retain his cool image, but he can't help the shivers speeding down his spine when you swirl your tongue around his tip, taking it in your mouth in a deep, and painfully slow way, one that makes him physically ache with need. "Come on, sweetheart, take more of my dick." He whispers, one hand wiping the sweat off his forehead and the other on your hair, gripping them to keep you stable while he bucks his hips, pushing himself deeper in your mouth. You can't see it, but the way he's panting a little more than usual, his dick twitching in your mouth, his muscles tightening, veins bulging out from restraint, you know you've got him so wrapped.

ʀʏᴏᴍᴇɴ ꜱᴜᴋᴜɴᴀ .ᐟ

How bad could it be? He looks at your pleading gaze and assumes the best scenario. But oh boy, was he so wrong. Not that he'd admit, never in hell would he let you know just how much your tongue around his dick his getting to him, how your hands squeezing his shaft is making him almost dizzy. He's too prideful to say that. "Look at you, such a-..mmf..fuck..such a good girl." His breathing is shallow, ragged, words sputtering borderline incoherent when your swollen lips eagerly take him in. He is panting too much, like he's just been caught off guard. He is shivering, gripping onto an armrest for his dear life while he lifts his hips to let you take him in further. When you look up at him with slightly teary eyes, gagging a little at the size, he can feel himself getting close already. He's never been this pathetic and you've never been more proud.

ɢᴇᴛᴏ ꜱᴜɢᴜʀᴜ .ᐟ

Is still sooo cocky even as you suck his dick, because he just can't let you know how bad he's falling apart on your tongue. The way your tongue traces all his length before taking it in, inch by inch, is enough to make him lose his mind. "Mmgh..Good girl..You're taking me so..ngh-..well." His cheeks go red, he's genuinely sweating as you keep sucking his dick, he's trying so hard not to finish, gripping the nearest surface, running a hand though his own hair as his head falls back with a loud groan, which he's quick to silence by biting his lip. His hand soon finds it's way on your cheeks, cupping it gently as he pushes himself deeper, and when his eyes open, falling on you, when you look up at him with those eyes, he's genuinely panicking so bad, hair scattered across his face, sticking to his forehead as he meets your gaze.

ᴄʜᴏꜱᴏ ᴋᴀᴍᴏ .ᐟ

He can't help it, he really can't. He knew he was screwed in for the best time since you asked him if you could suck his dick. He looks at you with so, so much love and desire in his clouded eyes, like you're a saint preaching sins. He's whimpering, so, so pathetically but he's far too lost to care. He cups your cheeks, thumb stroking the skin as he grunts, "Shit, you're so..mmh..f-..freakin' good, sweets." He whispers out breathlessly, his tone hushed while you take his inches deeper, running your tongue across. He's clinging onto your hair like a lifeline, his eyes blown wide a minute, and then shut tight the next. He's biting his bottom lip so hard you could see it turning red as he pushes in deeper. He's whining, groaning with whispered pleas for you to take him deeper. He's never felt so good before, and never been so noisy before either.

Thank you so much for reading .ᐟ

Reblogs would be highly appreciated .ᐟ🎀

[sturnlsstuff]

CHRIS IS OBSESSED WITH HIS BROTHER's GIRL. [smut, masturbation, mdni]

chris knew how wrong this was.

the guilt and feeling of betrayal building up in his chest, but he couldn't help himself, not when it came to you. matt's girl. it wasn't like you and his brother were together, you weren't his girlfriend, you two were only hooking up, but you still belonged to matt. he had some interest in you, maybe even liked you, a lot. so chris was fully aware how fucked up the situation he found himself in was. he just wished his room was the one you go to every time you come over, not matt's. it all was making him frustrated.

especially now at one in the morning when he was trying to sleep and not listen to the sounds coming from the other room, but it was fucking hard not to hear. even nick texted the group chat telling you and matt to shut the fuck up, but it didn't help much. actually neither you or matt cared at that moment.

the constant sounds of bed cracking, skin slapping against each other, the headboard hitting the wall and more specifically something that chris focused on the most. your moans.

the thing was, chris had no clue that you caught up on the stares he'd give you anytime you come over, how he would hungrily look at your body, especially when you were wearing these mini skirts of yours. so maybe you were really loud on purpose right now, wanting him to hear. just maybe.

so he really tried to actually fall asleep, but it was just impossible and his imagination got carried away. in his head he was the one making you sound like this, moaning his name while he was fucking you from behind on his bed.

he didn't even realize how painfully hard he was and when he would slid his pajama pants down his hips, freeing his already leaking with precum dick. he also didn't necessarily know at what point his hand started moving up and down his length. was it when he heard you moaned "harder" or maybe the strangled sound of your crying from pleasure?

chris was so desperately turned on, squeezing his eyes shut while he was thrusting into his fist, his thumb occasionally brushing against his sensitive tip, making him groan quietly. the sounds you were making, it all made him going feral, "--oh shit, y/n..." he hisses speeding up his movements and his head throws back at the sensation. he'd imagine you being here with him. on top of him, jerking him off. how you would use your thumb to smear his precum all over his slit and head of his cock, how your small hand would look working on him. maybe you'd even use your mouth to suck on his tip. then taking him deeper and he'd see how hard you try to fight the gag reflex, saliva dripping down your chin as you take him all in, looking up at him with those puppy eyes of yours. he could physically feel his tip hitting the back of your throat until you pull out to catch your breath, your spit connecting his cock and your lips and your hand working on him again.

his own thoughts made him groan a bit louder, accompanying your own muffled moans still coming from matt's room. "fuckkk—" he whimpers, squeezing his hard member a bit, causing his hips to jerk upwards. chris tried to be quiet, his jaw was slacked as he started to feel his orgasm building up, all the images he had in his mind right now sent him right over the edge, his body tensing up while he frustratingly was moving his hand faster on his cock. his other hand gripping the sheets, his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. "oh shit, yes-- please... fuck, fuck, fuckkkkk—" he almost whined as he heard your final moan, assuming you just reached your climax and the thought of him finishing at the same moment as you made his body heat even higher and with another groan, warm drops of cum bursts from his tip all over his hand, thighs and lower stomach as he moans out your name once again.

the realization of what just happened, what he did, started hitting him only a few seconds after he opened his eyes, seeing the mess he'd make and tried to calm himself down. he really felt fucking bad about this, but at the same time it was one of the most intense orgasms he's ever had while jerking off. and all it took was to hear your pretty sounds and a little bit of imagination.

chris would actually kill to make it happen in reality and feel your skin against his at least for one time.

@xaristhings @certifiedstarrr @mattsfavbitchhh @lvrsturniolo @chrislovespepsi @r0s3luvr @le4hsblog @sturnsxbitvh

[phantomamour]

i want to clark kent to eat me out with his glasses on 🤗🤗🤗 shirtless with sweatpants low on his hips no underwear he’s probably humping the bed while he does it😄😄

so i finally got around to answering this while avoiding some physics today and yeah... yeah this is hot... it's also way longer than i intended it to be... guess it's time to make a clark masterlist lmao

clark is a service top through and through in my head and part of that involves loving to go down on his girl. when you've had a rough day and you're tired of being as wound up as you are, clark is on his knees in seconds. when you're stressed about something at work in the morning, unable to sleep well all night, he'll get on his knees in the shower before you two get ready for the day. often times, without a bed involved, he'll have to prop your thighs on his shoulders because he's just too tall otherwise and he'll hold you up to work his tongue into you happily.

but when he drags you to bed, that's when you know he needs it just as much as you do. he'll close your shared apartment door behind you when you get home finally and kiss you before either of you can say a word and you just know what he needs. it helps you unwind but it also helps him. he'd been out superman-ing while you worked late and now he just needed you underneath him--he needed to make you feel good to turn off his own speeding mind.

he's already shirtless and you can tell from how low his sweatpants are sitting on his hips that he had forgone his boxers when changing, the v of his hips on breathtaking display with a trail of hair leading down to his prominent bulge. he doesn't have to say anything for you to know where he's taking you, holding your face in his hands and kissing you as he walks you backward to the bedroom. but when he gets you on the bed, when you're finally laid out for him, he has to take a moment just to look at you.

"i can't believe you're mine," he'll whisper before moving to kiss you again, his lips dragging down the bare skin of your neck as he works your shirt up your chest. he takes his time working his way down your body, kissing every inch of skin he can uncover. he always grumbles when you wear pants, simply because of the extra time it takes to slip them off. but when you wear a skirt, he's simply moving it up and letting it rest along your hips; he'll take it off later.

the first drag of his tongue is nearly brutal, too light to do anything but make you squirm, like he's testing his own strength even if he's done the act a hundred times. he doesn't want to break you; he just wants to devour you for the night. you don't even notice the movement of his own hips at first, too lost in the way he sucks your clit until your back is arching off the bed. but then you hear the subtle creak of the bed and the clouds in your head dissipate enough to look down at him. oh what a sight to behold.

clark's glasses haven't been discarded yet. they're sliding down his nose and fogging up a little, but he's too blissed out between your thighs to care. his hair is a mess from you tugging on it and when he pulls up to look at you, you can see your slick across his lips and the blissed out look in his eyes.

"baby..." he can barely get the word out, like it's killing him to be parted from you. the creaking is still present and when you look past his head, you can see that he's grinding into the bed just enough to look truly in a trance. you've hyponotised him; you know his mind is off just as much as yours if not more. and when he brings his mouth back to your core, when you jump at the sensation of his tongue slipping inside of you again, he lets out a low moan that vibrates into you.

you know his sweatpants will need a thorough wash by the time he's done. he's not coming up for air again until you've cum at least twice on his tongue and he will happily hump the bed through as much overstimulation as it takes until you're limp under his touch. his pleasure comes from giving you pleasure and he swears it's better at clearing his mind than flying through the atmosphere at the speed of sound.

[imastoryteller]

Write Like a Director: Crafting a Cinematic Novel (With Examples)

Writing a novel like a movie means propelling your reader through scenes with relentless momentum, slashing through fluff, and ensuring each word drives the plot forward. Trust your readers to connect the dots through dialogue and action, immersing them in vivid, immediate experiences without drowning them in verbose descriptions. Every chapter should feel like a high-octane scene, keeping readers on the edge of their seats, hungry for the next twist, the next revelation. Keep it tight, keep it thrilling. Here are some examples to illustrate each aspect of this dynamic storytelling approach:

Fast Pacing

Chase Through the Alley: Jake sprinted down the narrow alley, the thud of heavy boots echoing behind him. A sharp left, then a right—no time to think, just run. This example thrusts the reader directly into a high-speed chase, emphasizing immediate action and urgency.

Heist in Progress: The vault door creaked open. "Thirty seconds," Maria whispered, stuffing bonds into her bag. The alarm blared. "Move!" The scene conveys a sense of time running out and rapid movement, maintaining a brisk pace with no room for delays.

Dynamic, Fast-Going Plot

Kidnapping Twist: Laura opened her front door to find an empty stroller on her porch. A note inside read: "If you want to see her again, come alone." The unexpected discovery of a kidnapping sets up an immediate and compelling conflict, driving the plot forward swiftly.

Escape Plan: The prison lights flickered. "Now!" whispered Tom. They climbed through the hole, hearing guards’ shouts in the distance. The urgent breakout from prison keeps the plot dynamic and intense, with characters constantly on the move.

Show, Don't Tell

Fight in the Ring: Blood trickled down Max’s face. He clenched his fists, dodged a punch, and delivered a powerful uppercut that sent his opponent to the mat. The physicality and immediate consequences of the fight are shown through actions rather than explained through exposition.

Silent Farewell: Tears streamed down Lily’s cheeks as she handed Jack the letter. Without a word, he turned and walked away, his shoulders slumped. The emotional impact of the farewell is conveyed through the characters' actions and expressions, not through internal monologue or narrative explanation.

No Tedious Descriptions

Quick Change: Sam grabbed the nearest shirt and jeans, pulling them on as he ran out the door, glancing at the clock—he had five minutes to reach the station. The scene moves quickly from one action to the next, providing only essential details to maintain momentum.

Sudden Revelation: In the dim light, Sophie saw the glint of a ring on the thief’s finger. Her father's ring. She gasped, stepping back. The revelation is made through a brief visual detail, keeping the description succinct and impactful.

No Infodump

Mid-Battle Realization: Amidst the chaos, Sarah recognized the tattoo on the enemy soldier’s arm. Her brother. She hesitated, the war raging around her. The revelation about the brother is integrated into the action, avoiding lengthy explanations and keeping the focus on the immediate situation.

Urgent Discovery: Ethan flipped through the ancient book, stopping at a page with a familiar symbol. "It's the same as the pendant," he muttered, pocketing the book and running out. The discovery is brief and directly tied to the plot's urgency, with no extensive background information provided.

Avoid Fluff

Straight to Action: Ben didn’t bother with pleasantries. “We’re out of time,” he said, throwing the bag into the car. “Get in.” The scene cuts straight to the critical moment, avoiding unnecessary dialogue or description.

No Idle Chatter: Emma answered the phone, cutting off the caller's introduction. “What’s the plan?” she demanded, glancing at the clock. The character immediately seeks vital information, eliminating small talk and focusing on the plot's progression.

Tight, Immersive Narrative

Immediate Danger: As the elevator doors slid open, Mark saw the bomb timer: 00:10. He dived for the wires, heart pounding. The imminent threat and the character's swift reaction immerse the reader in the tension of the moment.

Critical Decision: The bridge was collapsing. Anna had seconds to decide—jump or try to save her friends. She took a deep breath and ran back. The character's quick decision-making in a life-or-death situation keeps the narrative focused and engaging.

By applying these principles, you can craft a novel that feels as dynamic and engaging as a blockbuster movie, keeping your readers hooked from the first page to the last.

---

+ If you find my content valuable, consider Support This Blog on Patreon!

[arrenjo]

Part one is here

Summary: Your apartment floods and you do your best to make it on your own, but when Robby finds out he takes matters into his own hands; part two

Back | Next

A/n: the only true part two so far but leaving all the unresolved tension without so much as a kiss seemed kinda rude. I’m an angsty gal at heart so of course it has to be dramatic. Also my first time writing almost-smut, be gentle ;D srry for lack of gif, I know it’s more aesthetically pleasing but I couldn’t find one that scratched the itch, yk?

Content/trigger warning: Panic attack portrayed, plot with a bit of almost-smut sprinkled in. 18+ only, minors DNI!!

The following morning, you woke up with your head on Robby’s chest. Your hair splayed in every direction across the burgundy fabric of his shirt, his chin resting on top of your head. His thumb made small circles on your shoulder blade over the fabric of your oversized t-shirt as he held you. Your legs were entangled with his, your bare legs against his thin sweatpants. You felt safe, secure. You didn’t move for a moment, almost afraid it was a dream. You opted to lie still for a moment to try to assess if he was awake yet.

“Good morning,” He murmured into your hair after a moment, lips brushing the top of your head. Your stomach did a flip as you tried to decide whether to look up at him or not.

“Mm,” You said softly, willing yourself to keep your breathing even, trying not to think about the fact that you were literally in Robby’s bed.

“How long have you been awake?” You asked.

“A while,” He responded simply, still rubbing small circles on top of the fabric of your tshirt. Neither of you felt particularly inclined to move, this was as close as you had ever been to him and it was comforting to know he at least wanted you close like you did him, but his silence unsettled you.

Last night, the silence had been comfortable. There was something different about this morning though, almost as if there was something hanging in the air. Your stomach started to turn at the thought of him regretting letting you be here. You could have easily just fucked up, arguably, the best and most important work relationship you had.

Had he not wanted to sleep in the same bed? Had you asked too much? Did he not feel the same way? The touches and the coffee and him running his fucking thumb over your lips in the supply closet like he was considering fucking you right there sure seemed like there was something between the two of you, but maybe you were wrong.

I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up, your brain said relentlessly on repeat.

Your breathing started to pick up speed and tears welled in your eyes.

I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up,

You were in your own head and you needed to get away. The panic was starting to set in and it was impossible to coordinate your movements, you needed to get away. You started to push him away and he tightened his arm around you.

Away, away, away, your brain said.

Don’t let him see you like this,

You tried to push him away again and choked back a sob.

“Hey, hey,” He said as soon as he realized what was happening. He quickly placed his hands on your waist, under the hem of your shirt and just above the waistband of your shorts, fingers making contact with your bare skin. He lifted you in one smooth motion to partially on top of him and to eye level. You looked away from him, desperately trying to blink the tears back. Your breathing turned ragged, desperate for air. He took your chin in his hand with one hand, the other arm still securely around your waist, and moved your chin so you were looking at him.

“Where is your head at?” He asked, his voice low.

“Michael-“ You choked out with a sob. Robby almost physically winced, hearing you desperately say his name like that was almost too much. Robby moved to completely under you and braced the back of your head with one hand, the other still around your waist tightly. He quickly sat up with you, your legs on either side of his torso. He held you close to him as your body racked with a full-on sob.

“Hey, I’m right here. I’ve got you,” He soothed. The hand attached to the arm around your waist started rubbing circles on the small of your back. He stroked your hair with his other hand and said your name in the same soothing, low tone as you sobbed again.

“I’m sorry,” you tried again, managing to get the words out between sobs.

“No, you don’t have anything to be sorry for. Everything is fine. Everything is perfect,” he soothed you. “I’ve got you, I’m right here.” He repeated. After a moment, he used one hand to gently tilt your chin up to him again, forcing you to make eye contact with him. His brown eyes searched yours for any sign of what might be wrong. He looked at you, pleading, desperate for an explanation.

“I shouldn’t have asked and now you regret it and I’m sorry,” You pushed the words out in one breath before you dropped your head and pressed your palms to your eyes, breath hitching on another sob that you were desperately trying to control. “Fuck, Robby, I’m so sorry,”

It took Robby a solid ten seconds to process what you had said before he reacted. He pulled your hands from your eyes and grabbed your chin again.

“You think I regret this?” He asked in a low, steady voice. “Do you know how long I’ve thought about waking up next to you? Thought about having you in my bed?” You were silent as you took another steadying breath, heat flushing your face and chest. You were suddenly very aware that you were fully in his lap. Your hands found the fabric of his t-shirt on either side of his body and you gripped it tightly.

“Long before Pittfest, long before that first time I acted like a jackass,” He continued.

“That was the best I’ve slept in a long time.” He said, eyes locked on yours. “I think I was still a little disoriented,” He admitted through a half hearted chuckle that vibrated your body. He let his smile fall, “I never want you to think that I regret this, not for even a second,” You nodded, processing what he was saying, breaking eye contact with him for the first time in several minutes.

“Hey,” He said softly after a beat of silence. You looked back at him again and he slowly pressed his forehead to yours, noses touching. You closed your eyes and one hand reached up to stroke his beard. He let out a small ‘hmm’ at the contact.

“I could never regret you,” He whispered. You took in a ragged breath at his words, it was all you could do to maintain what little composure you had regained.

Your mouth was centimeters from his, his breath hot and wet on your lips. His hands moved to under the hem of your shirt, on either side of your hips. He squeezed gently and you moaned softly, feeling his dick almost immediately harden beneath your weight. The sensation sent waves of heat up your neck and down your abdomen, and it lingered between your legs.

You tilted your head up just enough for your lips to ghost over his and that tiny bit of contact seemed to be all the permission he needed, his lips crashed into yours, hot and desperate. One hand found the hair at the base of his neck and you pulled him closer as his lips moved frantically against yours. His tongue darted into your mouth and you moaned against his lips. His hands squeezed your hips again and you shifted your weight into him, creating friction between you and his erection. He let out a low moan against your mouth and started trailing kisses down your jawline and your neck, stopping to lick and suck with each individual kiss.

“Robby,” You moaned, desperate for more. His lips found yours again after a moment and his hands moved upwards under your shirt as he claimed your mouth. Your breathing was ragged and so was his. In one smooth motion, he laid you back and was on top of you, your hands started to glide up his shirt when the shrill alarm on Robby’s phone went off, startling you both.

“Fuuuck,” Robby groaned, dropping his forehead against your collar bone. You both had completely forgotten about work and didn’t have time to finish what you had started. You laughed humorlessly.

“Figures,” You said, stroking his hair.

“We can be late?” He offered with a grin, looking back up at you. The proposition brought a real laugh out of you.

“Uh huh, and we would never ever hear the end of it. Can’t you imagine both of us walking in at the same time, both late? Jack Abbot would be insufferable.”

“It would get the rumor mill started for sure,” He tugged the neckline of your shirt down and pressed a kiss to your collar bone. His beard combined with your heightened senses had you clenching your jaw. You closed your eyes and took a steadying breath.

Maybe being late wouldn’t be so bad after all.

The shrill alarm interrupted your thought process again and you groaned. “No, we have to go,” You said, mostly to yourself. Robby laughed and pressed one more kiss to your lips before getting off of you and walking out of the room. You whined at the sudden loss of contact. You laid there for another minute, trying to compose yourself, when Robby reappeared with a set of folded scrubs in his hand that he offered to you. You immediately sat up, your brow furrowed.

“I did some laundry last night after you went to sleep, thought you might need some clean scrubs.” He explained. It was all you could do to keep your mouth from dropping open.

“You didn’t have to do that,” You started.

“I know, I wanted to.” He said, you took the scrubs out of his hands and smiled up at him.

“Thank you,” You whispered, standing up to press a kiss to his cheek. Robby wrapped his arms around you and kissed your forehead.

“Come on, let’s go. The more I think about it, the more I realize that you’re right and Jack is about to give us hell.”

[popp1n]

GHOSTING THE GOVERNMENT

|masterpost| ao3

Chap 1: A Not-so-Ghostly Getaway.

Pt 1

The diplomas, still crisp and smelling faintly of the school auditorium's mothball-esque stale air, lay forgotten in the storage pocket of the back seat. Outside, the oppressive silence of Amity Park clung to the humid night like a shroud. Under the sliver of a waning moon, three figures moved with struggling efficiency, their hushed whispers swallowed by the darkness, only interrupted by the thump and tumble of packing a small car's trunk full to the brim.

Sam wrestled a lumpy duffel bag into the cramped trunk of Jazz’s beat-up Corolla, its faded paint a familar reflection to the scuffed and chipped state of Amity Park's buildings and roads. Tucker carefully slid a disassembled and altered shortwave radio beneath a pile of old blankets, his knuckles pale as he adhered it to the floor with heavy-duty tape. In the driver's seat, Jazz checked the rearview mirror for the tenth time, her gaze flicking nervously towards the omnipresent, unblinking lenses mounted on nearly every lamppost, but most importantly those fastened to her childhood home.

This morning, Danny and his friends walked across that stage, officially free in the eyes of the State. Tonight, they were taking that freedom for themselves, one clandestine mile and issue at a time.

Sam finally managed to cram their luggage into place and successfully close the trunk without unnecessary noise. She slid into the backseat beside Tucker, who was checking the camera feeds again.

"The loop is still set, and I have my program ready to intercept feeds as we drive," Tucker sighed, lowering his computer screen and minimizing the glow, "All that's left is for Danny to finish and we can get out of here."

It was at that moment that they could hear keys jangling near the FentonWorks's front door. Danny made himself present and quickly hurried over to the open passenger side door.

The Corolla’s suspension groaned as Danny shoved a final ratty backpack crammed with scavenged ghost tech and blueprints onto the back seat, causing Sam to give a small indignant squawk at it landing in her lap before shoving it into place between her and Tucker. He slid into the passenger seat, closed the door, and buckled in a series of swift movements. Danny, ever the pragmatist, double-checked the rearview mirror, while Jazz gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white.

“Okay, everyone set?” Jazz’s voice was a low murmur, barely audible above the thrum of the engine.

Tucker huffed an affirmative, his gaze flicking to the other small, palm-sized device he’d carefully placed on the dashboard. It pulsed with a faint, stolen green light. “Just need to power that baby up once we’re a few miles out.”

Jazz reached over and squeezed Danny's arm. “Danny, are you sure about this? Leaving everything…” Her voice trailed off, the unspoken fear hanging heavy in the air.

“Positive,” Danny said, meeting her gaze. “Staying means… well, you know.” He glanced at Tucker, who offered a tight nod of agreement.

“So, portal us out of here then, speed demon,” Jazz said, a nervous edge to her usual teasing tone. “Last I checked, you could blink us to Gotham City before they even noticed we were gone.”

Danny sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair. “That’s the thing. I can’t.”

Jazz tilted her head to him, eyes on the road and confusion etched on her face. “What do you mean, you can’t?” She asked, her brow furrowed. “Are you… are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Danny insisted. “Physically, anyway. But remember those ‘rural-urban wellness initiatives’ the government rolled out last year? The ones that supposedly monitored for earth quakes and groundwater?”

Jazz's eyes widened. “You think…?”

Tucker nodded grimly. “They weren’t just mapping out tremors and underground streams. They were mapping ectoplasm fluctuations...at least the sensors in town are. Every portal, even natural ones, creates a ripple. A pretty significant one, apparently.” He pointed towards the stolen and modified device on the dash. “This little beauty confirms it. They’ve got localized sensors all over Amity Park, calibrated specifically to detect any paranormal distortions. If Danny tried to portal us out now, it’ll be like setting off a silent alarm directly to GIW headquarters.”

A heavy silence descended upon the car. Jazz’s shoulders slumped slightly. “So, all those times they ‘randomly’ stopped by the house for ‘routine checks’ after you seemed a little… restless…”

Danny’s jaw tightened. “Yeah. They knew something. They’ve been watching. Waiting.” He sighed, "They probably wrote it off so far as interference from the lab portal and whatnot, but that isn't a foolproof defense."

Sam leaned forward in her seat. “This is the only way. Old-fashioned, on the ground, under the radar. Once we’re far enough out, past that massive ghost shield they're building, then maybe… maybe Danny can risk it. But not here. Not now.”

The weight of their words settled in the small car, replacing their initial surge of post-graduation hope with a stark dose of reality. It was a harsh reminder that their lives were nowhere close to normal. This was not a regular carpool to their shared college pick; although, it was no less emotional than the standard fair.

Tucker was excited for opportunities with the biggest technology conglomerate in the world. He and Danny managed to score scholarships along with paid internships with their practical demonstrations. Sam was interested in the gothic architecture and ecology courses that their destination had to offer. Danny was intrigued by the rumored curses around the city. Jazz was looking forward to finishing her psychology degree and potentially working in Arkham.

But home is home, no matter how strained it has become in recent years.

Emotions were complicated, and many a tear were shed by the teens as they pulled out of the neighborhood and headed towards city limits. Jazz offered each of them a blanket and bid them to rest.

Next>

[clare-875]

Habits of Touch (Luffy, Sanji, Zoro)

_____ Pairings: (Separate) Luffy x Reader; Sanji x Reader; Zoro x Reader Summary: His favorite time/way to share physical affection with you. Warnings: Fluff, Slightly suggestive, Female Reader [One Piece Masterlist] [Part 2: Ace, Law, Shanks] _____

- Luffy - Hand Holding and Adventure

Luffy is always keen for new adventures; of people, places and obscure things he hasn't seen nor experienced before. He is easily excitable as the crew approaches another Island, barely waiting for the ship to dock before he jumps gleefully onto land. It makes Nami roll her eyes as she looks to her Captain and then she would often turn to you.

"I don't know how you put up with that."

Her voice is laced with a heavy sigh and you smile, but then it is replaced by the spike of your heart when you feel a familiar arm wrap itself around you a few times over. "Wait Luffy-" But it is already too late, you hear the bubbling sound of his laughter as he almost flings you off the ship to his side. For a moment the world turns in your head until you fall into the rubber boy and his gleaming smile.

"[y/n]! Come on, let's go explore the island!"

You are in a daze but quickly shake off your surprise; it was a constant occurrence. Yes, Luffy adored adventure, but he finds pleasure in it most when he is with you. Thus comes the tight grip of his hand on yours, or the envelopment of your figure as he drags you around the Island; his constant want to have you beside him on his adventure.

His warmth never falters on you, it is always constant around your hand as he pulls you to every aspect of the new space he has yet to explore. You adore it, his gleaming eyes as he turns back to you after running around, gaze surprisingly calm as he makes sure you are still with him. You adore how he holds your form so gently though his movements are sometimes reckless in his excitement. You adore that he wants you by his side on his journey and he will not be content unless you are.

It is always the same call.

"[y/n], let's go!"

Followed always by his warmth and sure grip.

Some people may think that Luffy's dreams were confined to his nakama and to becoming the pirate king, but he found that dream fruitless unless you were there to witness it: to witness his adventure and to witness his ambition become reality. He would pout and whine when you didn't come along with him. Maybe you had plans with other crewmembers or had errands or were simply not feeling it. But it is merely because he loves you, and he wants you by him as he discovers what the world has to offer.

"Hey, [y/n]!"

You look up in time to see that Luffy had skewers packed with meat on them, six to be exact. "Try one!" Luffy's face was already full of it and whilst in one hand he held out the skewers to you, the other was still wrapped loosely around yours. You raise your eyebrows in surprise at the gesture but smile and take one from his grasp.

"Thanks, Luffy."

He grins widely as you take a bite, but you barely have enough time to see his eyes flicker; something else has gathered his interest.

"[y/n], Takoyaki! Let's go!"

Before you knew it he was flying through the streets of the town, dragging you with him. You have to hold your breath at the speed he moves but you find yourself laughing out with him. Of course, it would be this way; it was Luffy. And the day was exciting and eventful and tiring because what day wouldn't be so if you had him by your side?

At the end of it, the two of you were found by your crewmembers on the deck of the ship, sleeping against one another peacefully and with Luffy's hand still tight within yours.

- Sanji - Back Hugs and Cooking

It may not surprise you to know, that Sanji loves to be touching you and to be with you as often as it is realistically possible. Ever considerate of your feelings, he will give you space if you please but just know that he always craves your presence.

How could he not?

He, the man who constantly showered women with his adoration never thought that his crewmember would return the same adoration for him. Though he still cherishes the women of the crew and showers them with a kind of respect that is honestly unmatched, he only yearns for you. His favourite form of physical affection, however, though perhaps surprising, is in the quiet and domestically suited times you share.

Namely, the times you would join him in the kitchen.

There, when he would finally let you help him with meals, you would feel gentle hands and his warm form around you; it envelops you. He would guide your hands to carve intricately into ingredients you chop or help you stir a meal as you hovered over it upon a stove. Even when these actions are so simple you scarcely need the guidance of the gifted chef, maybe it is just in the intimacy of it all; like it was just you and him.

Sanji loves that.

Loved the thought that one day maybe it would be just the two of you. It was the thoughts that filled him as he looked at your beautiful form gracing his kitchen. Sometimes it would make Sanji sentimental; he never knew someone would be capable of loving him the way that you do.

He especially adores when the roles are almost reversed and it is your smaller frame that hugs him from behind as he works. It would sometimes take him by surprise until he realised it was just you and your warmth that had encapsulated his figure.

You loved it too.

The sounds of him working as you leaned against him gently, his form almost making you drowsy as he worked on dinner. It made Sanji's heart erratic the first time you did it, to the point where you had to frantically call for Chopper as he passed out in your hold. Now, however, it is almost routine.

Cooking was Sanji's most treasured time and now he spends it with you, the one he loves. Though sometimes you would merely watch him as he works from the dining table, you feel his love most in his guided actions as he envelops you, and he feels a sense of peace whenever he works and feels you do the same.

"Mon Amour, are you tired?"

Sanji's voice is soft as he sorts through ingredients for the night's dinner and you hug him sleepily from behind. You would nuzzle your face into his back and sigh contentedly.

"No"

You mumble into him though fatigue is clearly laced in your words. You feel the soft rumble of gentle laughter break free from Sanji as he adores every form of you, including your tired one. It makes your own smile grow on your face as you lean more into him and he feels your embrace tighten around him slightly.

"I love you."

You almost sigh your oath into his back but you find yourself questioning if he has heard it when he doesn't immediately reply. But then, there is a pause in his movements and you wonder what is wrong as a slight silence takes over. He would turn around and your eyes would widen at the sight of tears almost skimming his eyes.

"I love you more, my love."

- Zoro - Kisses and Workouts

Zoro thought that he enjoyed his solitude during training. He thought that the thrumming waves paired with the pumping of his heart were all he needed for a successful workout.

Well, that was until you.

Now Zoro finds his focus faltering when he sees a lack of your presence in the Crowsnest as he works. It distracts him when the room is not filled with the vibrance of you. It distracts him more than if you were present, which is saying something.

Watching Zoro work was one of your favourite pastimes; how could it not be? His form built under years of training gleaming with sweat would have your face flushed as he smirked at your unwavering gaze. But recently these distractions have poured into you approaching the man as he worked, and you being incorporated into the workouts as he trains.

Pushups? Of course, he has you underneath him, the rise and fall of his warmth as you capture his lips while you laugh, noticing the blush that covers his face. Does he need an extra "weight" as he works? Of course, you are on his back or have your arms wrapped around him as he squats down while you tell him about your day.

You found early on that you barely affected his training; you were lighter than a feather to him. But maybe that is why he didn't find himself minding or sometimes even craving your warmth and hands as he worked. It was a bonus that wouldn't hinder his workout but would increase your company and your touch.

There would be many times you take your teasing too far, liking the way you so easily influenced his concentration or the flush on his face. However, that would merely cause his touch to roam upon you too, but in a different way. The crow's nest was rarely occupied by other crewmembers and the two of you would take that to your advantage.

In the privacy of the room, you would find yourself entangled with him as he pours feverish kisses on your skin. In the solace of just you and him, Zoro finds the walls he keeps up firmly thawing as he responds to your touch eagerly, placing strong hands about your form.

It is in these times of quiet that you and he show physical affection the most; Zoro being one to not favour much PDA. But you didn't mind, because it made those moments with him even more treasured; the moments when you could show him the love you hold, and he could do the same in return.

It was so easy to get him distracted; you had him wrapped around your finger.

"Zoro"

You mumble as you look at him as he works and you approach, before sitting purposely on his back as he continues on his thousandth push-up. He barely falters when you do, continuing like you weren't atop him; like he couldn't hear the teasing tone laced in your words. You would sit up against him as he moves beneath you and leave soft and gentle kisses down his neck. That's when he falters, your touch already riling him up.

"[y/n]"

Zoro's voice is strained as he tries to continue his workout, but now your hands start to move gently about him and he finds himself enraptured by you. He lets out a low groan that almost sounds like a growl as he flips you over so you are now beneath him and not on his back. Then he encompasses you with a heated kiss, his movements taking you by surprise so much you can barely respond.

"You'll be the death of me, woman."

[ditzyrafe]

— dom!rafe edging you

warnings — oral (fem!rec), fingering, orgasm denial, lewd language

you were trembling, sprawled naked on rafe's bed, sheets already damp beneath you. every nerve ending felt hypersensitive, tingling with a desperate energy that had nowhere to go. rafe knelt between your spread thighs, his expression a mask of intense concentration, dark eyes missing nothing. he hadn't brought you close just once or twice. this was a meticulous, agonising torture session, each near-climax more intense, each denial sharper than the last.

"stay still," he commanded softly, his voice a low anchor in the storm raging inside of you. his fingers, slick with your wetness, were currently tormenting your clit with agonisingly slow circles, pressure building steadily, promisingly. your hips twitched, trying to push up against his hand, chasing the friction. "ah-ah," he chided, pinning your hip with his free hand, stopping the movement. "be patient. you cum when i allow it, understand?"

"y-yes," you gasped, the word strained, barely audible over your ragged breathing. heat coiled low and tight in your belly, a familiar ache that screamed for release. you could fee the orgasm building again, the suggestive tingling starting deep inside you. your toes curled, legs tensing involuntarily. it was close. so close.

"such a needy little thing, aren't 'ya?" he taunted, leaning closer, his gaze burning into yours like an inferno. his fingers didn't falter, maintaining that maddeningly perfect rhythm.

"p-please… rafe. i can't-" you whimpered, tears pricking the corners of your eyes — not from pain, but from sheer, unbearable need. your inner muscles clenched desperately, trying to pull the orgasm out.

"i know, baby," he murmured, a cruel little smirk playing on his lips. he watched as you writhed in the sheets of your shared bed, the flush spreading across your face and chest. he saw the exact moment you were close enough, and right then, just as you sucked in a breath to cry out, his hand completely stopped. completely still, but not moving an inch away from you just yet. leaving you hanging, suspended on that agonising peak, body shuddering with the force of the denied climax.

a choked sob escaped you, raw frustration mixing with the lingering sparks of pleasure. "why'd you stop again?"

"because i love watching my baby unravel," he stated simply before he leaned down, replacing his fingers with his mouth. the hot, wet suction was a shock to your system, instantly reigniting the fire within you. his tongue flicked, teased, then latched onto your clit, sucking hard, driving you right back towards that edge with breathtaking speed. you cried out, bucking helplessly beneath him this time, the denied pleasure making this new ascent almost unbearably intense. faster, harder, his mouth worked relentlessly, fingers plunging inside you, stretching you, adding another layer to the sensory overload.

you were screaming his name now, begging, pleading, lost in the haze. the orgasm almost slammed into you again, closer, bigger than before, about to shatter your control completely. and again, just milliseconds before you would have broken apart, he pulled away. the abrupt absence of contact was like a physical blow. you collapsed back onto the sheets, panting, body trembling violently, tears of sheer frustration now streaming down your face.

rafe watched you, chest rising and falling heavily, his own control evident but strained. he reached out, gently brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb. "not yet," he whispered, his voice thick with his own arousal, his eyes promising more denial, more exquisite torture.

"we're not finished. not even close."

taglist ; @13hischiers @rafesprecious @mayanqueenxx @dreewsepj @zoenighshade555 @feverg1rl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @onxlyemery @yncoded @millie--billie @laniirackssss @slut4you (join here) | divider creds ; @/anitalenia @/fairytopea

© written by ditzyrafe — do not steal or claim as ur own, stealing will result in me blocking u, any resemblance to any other story is simply coincidental!

[bueckersstuff]

PART I - PART II - PART III - PART IV

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s when Azzi Fudd came into the picture.

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

And you—you were left behind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then came UConn.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And maybe that was just part of growing up.

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

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

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

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

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

But then, everything shifted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Paige’s friend?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No reply.

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

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

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

Kim shrugged. But then gave you directions nonetheless.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There, lying in bed, was Paige.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Paige.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And again for the one after that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, against your better judgment, you went.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As you drifted in and out of consciousness, you felt her presence beside you, her hands gently smoothing your hair away from your face. Despite everything that had happened, despite all the anger and hurt, her touch was comforting. It was the touch of someone who had been there for you once before, and maybe—just maybe—was starting to care again.

Maybe it was the alcohol, making your eyes see shit, but Paige looks like she’s at peace. And when you feel yourself drifting off to sleep, you might have heard her murmur, “You’re here. You’re actually fucking here”, while holding you close.

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

[lavenderchqn]

✧・| kiss kiss, fall in love

— favourite places to kiss with genshin men

content warnings: modern!au, hurt/comfort for scara & fluff for the rest, mentions of biting, mentions of night terrors, fear of abandonment

𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈

Cheeks. It’s both the simplicity and sweetness of kissing your cheek that does it for him. Not to mention how he can always feel your smile gracing your beautiful face the second his lips meet your face… And there’s another benefit for putting your cheeks first — your neck is right there, just mere inches away. If Venti’s feeling playful, he’ll lull you in with the tiny kisses just to strike at your neck at the last second. 

Venti thinks he’s being so smug right now. Well, it’s both him looking so proud of his partner… and being completely smitten with their entire existence. His eyes scream nothing but love, as you’re doing the mundane things in life — currently settling on picking what sort of flower to add to your ever-growing crown.

The two of you have decided to spend the weekend out on a picnic, to just enjoy yourselves. Not to mention how it’s the first day after weeks of nothing but rain — it’s almost as if the universe itself wants you to have fun.

You carefully weave in another daisy as you feel a brush on your cheek. Venti’s lips are always soft — akin to the first snowfall or the best cotton candy in existence. A smile graces your lips, as you take a peek in his direction, so pleased with himself. “What’s on your mind, Ven?” You ask. 

“Who, but you… hmmm?” He mirrors your smile, swaying from side to side as he takes in your surprised reaction. He moves on top of the blanket, picking the wreath from your hands to put it aside. He’d rather not have your hard work crushed, just because he has you go through a love attack.

Even though he’s allergic to cats, with his next movements he could be mistaken for one. Venti gets to you all nice and gentle until he pounces at you — sending both of you down. He proceeds to pepper your entire face with kisses, increasing the speed he covers you with them the second a giggle escapes your lips. 

At one point, you can even feel him bite your cheek a little. “Sorry~” He giggles, kissing over the spot. “Had to confirm you’re not made of sugar there, Sweets!” 

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐑

Lips. From tiny pecks to long, tender kisses he adores them all. The sheer satisfaction of how well your lips fit together… just like two pieces from the tiniest puzzle. If he had to choose his favourite way to kiss you, it would be deep and hungry — he’s making sure that you’re not only with him and in the moment, but also putting his entire feelings into each and every one of them. 

Don’t think, take a deep breath, it’s just a nightmare. None of the usual remedies can shake off how terrified Wanderer is, getting up from another iteration of his night terrors. They usually came and went, not lasting more than a week at a time. His chest rises quickly, as his hand ruffles through his hair. 

“…Hey,” He whispers into the room, overcoming his pride in trying to fight his bad dream alone. The silence he’s met makes him pat your side of the bed, growing even more worried the second he finds it empty. Surely, he wasn’t in another layer of the dream space. You wouldn’t just leave him, right… Right?

He’s quick on his feet, leaving the overwhelming space of your bedroom in search of you. He, physically, cannot allow himself to stay in your shared room any second longer, lest the negative thoughts bury him in self-doubt completely.

The stomps, mixed with some sway from still being laced with sleep,  of his road down the stairs echo throughout the entire house as he stumbles into the kitchen. He breathes out with relief the second he spots you. 

“…Hmm?” You murmur, nursing a glass of water. That’s right, you were still here. You didn’t abandon him like others. You must’ve gotten thirsty, that’s all. 

Wanderer tugs on your hand, dragging you to meet your lips together — strong, yet still laced with anxiety. His arms wrap around your waist, deepening the kiss. He keeps at it, giving you mere seconds to breathe before continuing with an assault on your face. Only when his heartbeat returns to normal, does he allow you to leave his embrace. 

“All better.” 

𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄

Hands. Arguably the most polite way to kiss one’s partner, but it’s his favourite nonetheless. His love for your hands comes not only from pleasant memories of he had used to greet you back in the courting stage, but also from how soft they are. A small peck to the palm when you stroke his cheeks while cuddling, a dainty kiss to your fingers whenever he’s putting putting on your rings for you, Neuvillette adores them all.

It’s far too crowded for your liking. Normally, you wouldn’t even consider leaving your house during rush hour… But life clearly had other plans. You were on your way to pick up Neuvillette from work, and head to the jeweller’s afterwards. Your beloved ring had to be taken in for resizing, leaving you without the usual weight on your hand or something to fidget with the second you got bored. Truth be said, you couldn’t wait to get the ring back.

“Glad to see you’ve made it, Love.” He says, gently taking your hand to place a kiss before lacing it together with yours. Some of his coworkers are in the middle of leaving the office, noticing their senior being domestic with their partner in public. He’ll for sure be the talk of the ‘town’ tomorrow, and yet Neuvillette pays them no mind, cordially bidding them farewell,  before heading to the shop.

You’re almost jittering with excitement, humming along to Neuvillette’s recounting of his day, void of confidentialities. You cannot say your day was as exciting as his was. Something he absolutely scolds you for, arguing that even seeing butterflies on your way to his workplace makes it fun. 

You make it to the jeweller’s in no time. The shop assistant is pleased to hand you your ring back — shining just as bright as it did when it first came into your possession. Before you even think, Neuvillette takes your ring and places it back where it belongs. 

It’s only where you leave the shop, does he takes your hand and places a dainty kiss on your knuckles. As much as it didn’t feel right to make a display of your love right in the shopkeeper’s face… there’s something that puts him at ease seeing you with the wedding band. Love, perhaps?

𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘

Shoulders. He lives for the tiny jerks your body makes as he sneaks behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, as you’re caught off guard. Not to mention how you tilt your head slightly to give him more access or don’t shoo him away as he picks kissing your shoulder as his preferred way of greeting you in the morning

Saturdays. Arguably the best day of the week. No school, no work — just comfiness of one’s bed as no ringtone is there to forcibly make you start the day. The one negativity Saturdays bring is that it’s too hot to laze in bed. You’re basically captured in the trap, courtesy of sunshine blinding you in the face as well as Wriothesley’s body heat.

You stick one of your legs out of the comforter, hoping to ease your suffering a little. Your shift, to try and escape the iron grip of Wriothesley’s embrace, however, does not happen. “Too early…” He murmurs, voice deeper from being laced with sleep. He drags your body right back, to where it belongs — his arms, now additionally held down by his face nuzzling into your neck. 

“…so heavy…” You tilt your head, trying to slip out. His messy hair is tickling your cheeks as he snuggles even closer. Seriously, at this point, you’re better off using him as a blanket and ditching the heavy comforter entirely. It’s not like Wriothesley will mind. 

“Wrio…” He hums, acknowledging your pleas for freedom. “I’m too hot…” You whisper, pouting a little. You decide against telling him how much you’ve planned today — he’d only retaliate that weekends are for recharging only. Wriothesley’s right, of course, but he doesn’t need to know that. “You sure are…” He agrees, using your suffering as a means to compliment you. With the way he chuckles slightly, it’s no given Wriothesley’s smug and pleased with himself. 

“Alright, buttercup,” He shifts, releasing you from his grip. Wriothesley places a tiny kiss on your exposed shoulder. “How ‘bout morning coffee, huh?” 

date of posting — march 27th 2025

[dance-is-life27]

Drive

Joaquin Torres x Reader

Summary: After you find yourself not able to sleep, you take Joaquin out for a late night drive.

Warnings: Gender Neutral Reader, fluff, friends to lovers, flirting, first kiss, driving at night, not beta read

A/N: I need everyone to thank Halsey because the song Drive really inspired both of my most recent fics for some reason.

Reblogs are more appreciated than likes!

You know that it’s late when you call, that the last thing that you should be doing right now is interrupting Joaquin’s sleep but your brain has been going a thousand miles a minute since the sun set and you're desperate to do anything to get it to shut up for once. 

And still, Joaquin answers anyway. 

“Hey, everything okay?” He asks you, his voice deeper than usual as sleep mixes over the concern for you calling so late at night. The fact that he answered at all makes your heart flutter. 

“Wanna go for a drive?” You ask instead of replying, the silence that stretches over the call makes you wonder briefly if he’s fallen back asleep but it’s then that you hear movement on the other side of the line.

Joaquin clears his throat, “Give me ten minutes.” 

“I’m giving you five, Falcon.” 

Joaquin comes out true to his word, or yours you guess, five minutes later in a hoodie, a pair of shorts, and some old converse. You can’t help but laugh when he picks up speed to get to your car, probably to escape the biting wind that you know is howling right outside. It doesn’t take long before Joaquin is sliding into your passenger seat, looking tired but nonetheless happy to see you. 

“Hey,” Joaquin grins at you before his brows furrow, “what’s going on? Are you okay?” Joaquin’s eyes drift down your body, probably trying to check for any physical injuries on you but you wave him off with your hand before reaching for the radio. Turning up the volume you let the music from the station fill the silence before you take off. 

You drive around city streets, taking both new and familiar turns alike, letting only your gut lead you to where you want to go next. It’s surprisingly blissful being out this late, not that many cars on the road and any tension that you might normally hold within you during the day is completely gone. As expected, it doesn’t take long for Joaquin to start talking again about anything and everything, you turn the music down and try to keep up with the conversation when you can but mostly you’re just focused on keeping your eyes on the road. And it helps that Joaquin doesn’t seem to mind either, happy to talk and to let his words be the perfect distraction for you. 

It’s easy to admit that this is exactly what you were wanting when you pulled up outside of Joaquin’s house, debating if you should call him or not. 

You don’t know how long it is that you drive for, or where you’ve ended up, only that at some point you’ve yawned one too many times and that your eyes have started to feel heavy. That’s your cue to get you to pull into the nearest empty parking lot. You finally relax as you put your car in park, letting your eyes shut as you lean your head back against the headrest. 

A few moments pass before you realize that Joaquin has stopped speaking entirely and you crack open an eye to look at him.

“What’s on your mind, Torres?” 

Joaquin tilts his head, “What’s on yours?” he questions, an added gentleness to it that makes you feel comforted. Safe, in a way that only Joaquin has the power to do.

You shrug, before you finally force yourself to answer, “Everything, I guess. Couldn’t sleep, decided I wanted to go for a drive, then decided that I wanted some company and called you.” 

“Oh.” 

You laugh despite yourself, “Yeah, oh.” 

Silence stretches on in the closed space of your car. When you do find it in you to open your eyes again you're greeted by the dazzling sights of the city you’re in. A sight that you find yourself taking for granted more often than not these days. You look around at empty buildings lit up by neon lights, a sight that replaces the glow of the stars in the night sky. You’ll never get over just how mesmerizing the world around you becomes when you just stop to look and admire it  for once. 

You turn your head to face Joaquin, maybe to ask him a stupid question but the words die on your tongue when you find him already looking at you. 

“What are you doing?” You eventually ask as you stare at Joaquin, taking in how the glow from a business sign near by highlights his face in a gorgeous wash of blue and purple. 

“Enjoying the view,” Joaquin replies before he smiles at you and you can’t help the laugh that escapes your throat. “Oh, c’mon that was a good line!” Joaquin tries to defend but even he doesn’t stop the few chuckles that leave him either. 

“It was cheesy.” 

Joaquin clicks his tongue before he leans over the center console, gently invading your personal bubble, “A good cheesy?” Joaquin inquires, his eyebrows going up as a smirk stretches wide on his face. You just barely repress the urge to roll your eyes. 

“I don’t think there is such a thing.” You reply, leaning into Joaquin as you do so. 

Joaquin hums, the low sound feels like it echoes in the space between you two, “Maybe you think too much.” 

You shrug, “Maybe I do,” Joaquin’s eyes shine in the night, the look of lights and love reflect in the all consuming warmth of brown, “You got a good solution for me?” 

Joaquin nods only once, the movement so minuscule that you barely notice it before he leans in. “I’ve got a few ideas.” He whispers, his breath hot against your lips as the gap between you both finally closes. You sigh into the kiss, a warmth settling over you as you and Joaquin explore each other like this for the first time. It’s gentle and soft and intense all at the same time, a mix that leaves you dizzy and your hands come up to cradle Joaquin’s face in an effort to ground you in reality. It feels like hours pass by when you and Joaquin break apart for air. 

You both gasp, your noses still brushing together as you breathe each other in. 

“We should-” Joaquin pants, you realize then that this is the first time you’ve ever seen Joaquin Torres at a loss for words. Speechless, because of you. “We should go on drives like this more often.” You find yourself nodding in agreement as Joaquin grins at you. The sight of his blinding smile and his flushed face under the lights makes you want to pull him back in again but you refrain, pulling back slightly when Joaquin tries to lean in again. He takes your cue without a word spoken and settles back into the seat as if nothing had happened at all. 

Your eyes glance over at the clock and you realize just how late it's gotten, “And you should’ve had your idea sooner,” Joaquin looks at you out of the corner of his eye, clearly questioning where you’re going with this, “Might’ve saved me some gas.” 

Joaquin’s laughter rings out as you put your car in reverse, you use your phone to map out the quickest way back to Joaquin’s place as you have a feeling that you won’t have any more trouble with falling asleep tonight. 

[blairxbear]

How they react to your praise during sex...

UA Part 1 / UA Part 2 / Pro Heroes / Villains

How would they react to your sweet words of praise during an intimate moment? All characters are aged up.

Featuring Aged Up: Izuku Midoriya, Shoto Todoroki, Tenya Ida, Denki Kaminari, Mirio Togata, Hanta Sero, Koji Koda, Mashirao Ojiro

Izuku Midoriya

Izuku lives for praise—it completely breaks him in the best way.

He’s so eager to please that the moment you moan "You feel so good, Izuku," he shudders and starts thrusting deeper.

He becomes desperate to hear more, getting lost in your voice.

If you whisper, "You're perfect," he groans and loses all restraint.

Izuku is panting against your skin, his fingers digging into your hips as he thrusts into you, slow but deep.

"Am I…" his voice shakes. "Am I making you feel good?"

You cup his cheek, brushing your lips over his jaw. "Izuku, you feel so good. You’re perfect."

His hips stutter. His hands tighten.

"F-fuck," he whimpers.

Your lips brush against his ear. "You’re incredible, Izuku. I love the way you make me feel."

He groans, trembles, and suddenly snaps his hips forward—harder, faster, completely wrecked.

Shoto Todoroki

Shoto pretends to be unaffected, but the second you moan "You feel so good, Shoto," his hips stutter.

His body temperature spikes when you praise him.

If you whisper "I love the way you touch me," he physically trembles.

The moment he hears you tell him "You’re amazing," he completely loses control.

Shoto’s jaw clenched, his breath hot against your skin as he tried to keep his composure.

"You feel so good, baby," you whispered.

His hips jerked.

You smirked. So that’s what gets him.

"You’re amazing, Shoto," you moaned.

His whole body shivered. His grip tightened on your hips, and suddenly—

His rhythm snapped, his movements desperate, uncontrolled.

"You… you shouldn’t say things like that," he gasped, burying himself deeper, trembling as you praised him again.

Tenya Iida

Tenya takes sex seriously—he treats it like a task that must be executed perfectly.

If you praise him, he takes it as a personal challenge to do even better.

When you say "You’re so strong, Tenya," he groans loudly and grips you tighter.

If you call him "perfect," he immediately speeds up, desperate to prove you right.

Tenya was already panting, his body glistening with sweat as he pounded into you with perfect, rhythmic thrusts.

"God," you moaned, digging your nails into his back. "You're so strong, Tenya."

His hips snapped forward harder.

"I—" His breath hitched. "I want to be perfect for you—"

"You are perfect," you whispered.

A deep growl rumbled from his chest, and suddenly—

He wrapped your legs around his waist, lifted you slightly, and slammed into you deeper, faster, harder— his need to please you overriding all sense of control.

Denki Kaminari

Denki actively asks for praise. "Tell me how good I am, baby—please."

The moment you say something like "God, you feel so good, Denki," he immediately moans and almost short-circuits.

If you call him "a good boy," he will literally whimper.

Denki’s lips were hot against your skin, his thrusts erratic, desperate.

"F-fuck," he gasped. "You—god, you feel so good, baby."

"You do too," you whispered, brushing your lips over his ear. "You’re so good, Denki. So perfect."

His whole body shuddered. His hands tightened on your hips.

"Shit," he moaned, burying his face in your neck.

"You’re my good boy," you murmured.

Denki whimpered.

A low, broken groan escaped him, and suddenly he was grinding into you harder, deeper, completely wrecked by your words.

Mirio Togata

Mirio is already confident, but praise just fuels him even more.

If you say "No one’s ever made me feel this good before," he grins and pounds into you harder.

If you moan "I love your cock, Mirio," he completely loses it.

Mirio’s grin was cocky, but his eyes were dark with hunger.

"You feel amazing," you moaned.

"Yeah?" he smirked, thrusting deeper.

You clawed at his back. "So good, Mirio—no one’s ever made me feel like this."

His smirk faltered—his pupils blown wide.

"Shit," he whispered, snapping his hips forward harder.

He grabbed your thighs, lifting them higher, hitting deeper— desperate to hear you say it again.

Hanta Sero

Sero is casual about sex at first—but the moment you start praising him, he completely loses it.

If you whisper "You feel so big inside me," he groans and grips your thighs tighter.

"You’re so good at this," you murmured.

Sero choked on a breath.

You smirked. "You feel so big inside me, baby."

His hips snapped forward—harder, deeper.

"F-fuck," he gasped.

"You stretch me out so well, Hanta."

He groaned loudly, his rhythm breaking entirely as he buried himself deeper, completely lost in your words.

Koji Koda

Koda is naturally gentle, but if you praise him, he gets deeply emotional and intense.

If you say "You make me feel so safe," he groans softly and buries his face in your neck.

"You make me feel so safe, Koji," you whispered.

Koji shuddered, his grip tightening as he slowly thrust deeper.

"Y-you mean that?"

You kissed his jaw. "More than anything."

A low, deep groan rumbled from his chest, and suddenly—

His pace changed—deeper, more deliberate, as if determined to show you just how much he adored you.

Mashirao Ojiro

Ojiro loves being strong for you, and the moment you mention it, he gets possessive.

If you whisper "You’re so strong, Ojiro," he grabs you harder and loses all control.

"You’re so strong," you murmured, trailing kisses down his jaw.

Ojiro growled softly, his tail wrapping around your thigh.

"Say it again."

"You’re so—"

He lifted you effortlessly, pinning you to the bed, his hips snapping forward, his muscles tense with need.

Ko-fi / Masterlist

blairxbear © 2024. do not copy, modify, or translate my work. you do not have permission to share my work outside of tumblr!

[devotedsweetheart]

・❥ IT'S JUST A DREAM...

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ rundown :: caleb comes back from a mission while reader is sleeping. unable to control himself, he decides he doesnt want to wait until you're awake.

WARNINGS :: NSFW! 18+, porn with no plot, somnophilia, softdom!caleb, sub!reader

a/n :: bit of a gross fic i've concocted but hey, we don't kink shame around here!!

he shouldnt be doing this.

god, he really shouldnt be doing this.

he cant help it. the way you looked so cute and vulnerable laying sound asleep, basically inviting him in with the position you were in. laying on your back, arms placed on your stomach, one leg straight out and the other bent in; giving perfect access to your core.

caleb stands still; too scared by his thoughts to do so little as move. maybe if i just touch her once, it'll be like i wasnt even there... she won't notice.. fuck- he's convinced himself that he's perverted, that he's sick in the head. and perhaps he is, perhaps he's just like the twisted creeps on the internet, but that doesn't stop him. he's been away from the warm embrace of your cunt for way too long, his self control is too slim to worry about if you're conscious or not.

dropping his bags right where he was, he marches over toward you with great quietness. he stops right before he touches the bed, looking over you like a predator to his prey, imaging what exactly he wants to do to you thats so subtle that you wont wake up to it. after a moment of thinking, he decides he'll only take your panties off to jerk off to, then he'll go to bed with you. and thats exactly what he does.

with gentle yet shaky hands, he bends down and proceeds to attempt to rip your underwear off without really touching you, occasionally having to adjust the growing buldge in his pants. he manages to tear them halfway before he feels you move, beginning to change your sleep position to one that is on your back. he freezes completely and immediately removes his hand from your body, immobile with fear.

all he can do is stare at your ass while you're turned over. he physically cannot wait any longer as he brings an arm down to the bed to lift himself up, face directly on your butt. he's moving on autopilot at this point, unbuttoning his jeans with haste precision while inhaling your sweet scent; every exhale comes a moan as quiet as he can make it.

once his cock is finally out of his trousers, it's already twitching against the bed. caleb has no shame anymore; grinding his hips on your sheets and taking in your backsides aroma while whimpering into you. he has zero power over what he does, all he can do is think with his dick, mumbling small "ohfuckohfuck"s into your undies, bringing himself closer and closer to the edge. he's truly just a mess with his out-of-place hair and rolled back eyes, all for you.

everything was going swell until you slowly began to regain consciousness, somewhere in between awake and asleep. "c-caleb?" you whispered into the night, feeling for his hair. "caleb is that you? what're you.."

but instead of stopping his movements, he only speeds them up, egged on by the sound of your voice. "shhhshshh baby.. it's just a dream.. go back to sleep for me..." he mumbles back to you, grabbing your arm and using his other hand to grope at your asscheek. you let out a soft moan thats really only a sigh, and thats what sends him over the edge.

white hot spurts of cum cover your blanket and bedsheets as he snuggles his head closer into you in an attempt to quiet himself. "o-..ohmy fuck pips i-.." he murmurs, eyes remaining shut while his grip on you tightens.

after he's done working himself. he leans back to look at the mess he's made. drool strings from your panties to his lips, orgasm bright prominent on the covers, red marks on your wrist, underwear halfway ripped. he couldn't be more perverse.. truly.

only for you, though. ;)

[kissracing]

WE CAN’T BE FRIENDS (YES WE CAN), jenson button.

summary. ever since jenson button, &&. yn ln (“the 2000s it couple”) broke up in 2017, fans have been mourning the loss of their favorite couple not realizing that there was something bubbling under the surface.

featuring. jenson button x fem!white!reader (faceclaim, leighton meester)

this fic includes the following. . . various flashbacks, mix of social media &&. irl

flashback • 2017

“You promised, Jenson,” she said, her voice trembling as she stood in the doorway, arms crossed tight against her chest.

“You promised we’d get married when you retired. I—I’ve waited for years—do you even understand what that’s done to me?”

Jenson ran a hand through his hair, his face a mix of guilt and frustration. “I thought I was ready, Yn. I really did. But now… I don’t know. Marriage feels like a cage, and I—”

“A cage?” she interrupted, her voice breaking as tears streamed down her cheeks. “You don’t think I feel trapped? Trapped by your endless seasons, your races, your—your selfishness?”

“I never asked you to!” he snapped, but the moment the words left his mouth, regret flickered in his eyes.

Her breath hitched as though his words had physically struck her. She looked at him for a long moment, her face crumpling as she whispered, “You didn’t have to. I loved you.”

“Yn—”

“No.” She wiped her tears roughly, stepping back. “You don’t want to marry me? Fine. But don’t expect me to stay and watch you figure out what you do want.”

“Please, don’t do this,” Jenson pleaded, his voice breaking.

But she was already reaching for the door. “You already did.”

various news outlet • 2017

JENSON BUTTON AND YN LN HAVE REPORTEDLY CALLED IT QUITS!

The long-standing relationship between Formula 1 driver Jenson Button and actress Yn Ln has come to an end. The couple, who began dating in the mid-2000s and were often dubbed a power pair of speed and screen, confirmed their split late last night.

In a joint statement, they cited “irreconcilable differences” as the reason for parting ways, while emphasizing their mutual respect and admiration. Fans are heartbroken by the news, as the duo had been a fixture on red carpets and paddocks alike, seamlessly blending Hollywood glamour with the high-octane world of Formula 1.

Sources close to the pair reveal the breakup was amicable, though both are choosing to focus on their respective careers moving forward.

twitter • various users • 2017

text messages • yn &&. jenson • 2021

flashback • 2021

The café was just as he remembered—cozy and warm, with the scent of freshly brewed coffee wrapping around him like a blanket. Jenson sat at the corner table, his hands wrapped around a mug of espresso. He hadn’t been back here in years, not since their breakup.

The door jingled, and she walked in. Yn. She froze when she saw him, her expression a mixture of frustration and something softer.

“Jenson,” she greeted, her voice hesitant.

“Yn.” He gestured to the seat across from him. “Join me?”

She sat down, her movements deliberate. The silence between them was heavy but not uncomfortable. This café had been their sanctuary once, back when life felt simpler.

“It’s good to see you,” she said, folding her hands together. “It’s been a while.”

“It has,” he admitted. “I’ve been thinking about us. About how I handled things.”

Yn raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a sarcastic smile. “Which part?”

“All of it,” Jenson said, exhaling deeply. “I thought I was doing the right thing, waiting until after I retired to even consider marriage. I didn’t want to make promises I couldn’t keep. But I was wrong.”

Yn’s gaze softened, but she didn’t interrupt.

“I realized I was pushing away the one person who mattered most,” he continued. “I didn’t want to lose you, Yn, but I didn’t know how to balance it all. Now… now I see I made the wrong choice. And I’m sorry.”

Her eyes glistened, and she looked down at her cup. “It hurt, Jenson,” she said quietly. “I felt like I wasn’t enough, like you were putting your career above everything else—including us.”

“I know,” he said, his voice thick with regret. “I was scared. Scared of failing you, of not being the partner you deserved. But I’ve realized something—waiting for the ‘perfect time’ was just an excuse. There’s no perfect time, only the right person. And for me, that’s you.”

Yn’s breath hitched. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

“I still love you,” he said softly. “And if there’s any chance we can try again, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

She studied him, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she reached across the table and took his hand.

“I’ve missed you,” she admitted. “And maybe… maybe we can try again. But this time, no waiting. No holding back.”

Jenson’s lips curved into a smile, the first genuine one in months. “No waiting,” he promised.

The café seemed to grow brighter, the hum of conversation fading into the background as they sat there, hands intertwined, the promise of a new beginning lingering in the air.

instagram • 2023

liked by jensonbutton, user, user and others

jenynforever JENYN IF YOU CAN HEAR ME. PLEASE SAVE US.

♥︎ 23k 💬 8,627 ➢

user IM SICKKK THE WAY HE LOOKED AT HER 💔💔

user they were IT. they were perfect for each other

user ITS LITERALLY BEEN 6 YEARS THIS IS CREEPY STOP.

user JENSON IS IN THE LIKES.

⤷ user STAY FUCKING CALM

⤷ user THIS MEANS SOMETHING

user i would hate to be a celebrity because imagine breaking up with your ex 6 years ago and ur fans are still not over it-

user jenson in the likes… hes cooking up something chat

user jenson like me fr, cant get over my ex ‼️☹️

⤷ user LMFAOO

⤷ user If my ex was THEE YN LN, i wouldnt get over that fumble either tbh

user bring me back to when they were dating 💔💔

user miss them fr

⤷ user so does jenson apparently

user their smiles… oh my goddd 😞😞

user the 3rd slide.. I NEED THEM BOTH

instagram • yourusername • 2025

liked by logansargeant, user, lewishamilton and others

yourusername Guess it’s just me and this dork forever 🤍

♥︎ 1.6M 💬 55.6k ➢

user HELLL0:!/!$:)

user MY SHAYLAS !!!!

user i knew Jenson liking that post meant something

user RUE… WHEN WAS THIS!?

user MAMA Y PAPA

user logan in the likes. their son fr

lewishamilton ❤️❤️

⤷ user Oh i know you knew about this

user THEYRE SO CUTE IM SICKK

user LITERALLY HOW DID NO ONE KNOW????

user secret wedding.. i must know the guest list

⤷ lando 🙋🏻

⤷ logansargeant 🙋🏼

⤷ carlossainz55 🙋🏼

⤷ charles_leclerc 🙋🏻

⤷ aussiegrit 🙋🏻

⤷ lewishamilton 🙋🏽

⤷ oscarpiastri 🙋🏼

⤷ yukitsunoda0511 🙋🏻

⤷ danielricciardo 🙋🏻

⤷ maxverstappen1 🙋🏼

⤷ danielricciardo oh Sebastian & Kimi also went but they don’t really use their instagram like normal people

⤷ user i’m going to faint

user i dont even care as to why they broke up, i just want wedding photos.

user TOOK US 6 YEARS BUT WE MADE ITTT

instagram • jensonbutton • 2025

liked by aussiegrit, user, logansargeant and others

jensonbutton 2022 / 10 / 29. I married my best friend!!

♥︎ 1.8M 💬 61.6k ➢

user having a fall wedding is so 🥹🥹

user TWENTY-TWENTY-TWO????

user THEIR WEDDING CAKE IS SO CUTE WAAA

user i love how different their announcements are LMAO

user her dresses >>

user i love them sm

user HIS CAPTIONN 🥹😣😖

logansargeant I had an incredible time there! Congratulations guys and thank you for everything ❤️

⤷ yourusername Thank you for coming Logan!! Visit again soon! 🤍🌷

⤷ user “AGAIN”??? OHH MY STOMACH 😖

user i need a love like this to find me

user can’t believe some drivers actually went likei

⤷ user THEIR GRID KIDS + LEWS, MARK, KIMI & SEB 🥲

user JENYN SUPREMACY

amera speaks. i got lazy at the end + my longest fic so far 😵‍💫😵‍💫!! i hope you all enjoy <33!! jenson the loml fr

[salemrph]

Careful, kitten II - Dreamy Date

< Previous: Careful, Kitten I

Summary: You finally asked him out—and between laughter, touches, and shared looks, the line between friendship and desire quietly vanished. What began as playful teasing spiraled into something neither of you could stop.

Character: Sylus & MC/You

Genre: romantic-sexual tension, pre-relationship, teasing, date, explicit sexual content, Love Confession (Unspoken)

Word count: 7k | Reading Time: 28 min | AO3

You were warmth itself. An impossible, scorching warmth, perched on his lap as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As if you had no idea, not the slightest clue of the chaos you were wreaking within him. Or perhaps, a more dangerous thought, you knew perfectly well, and were simply enjoying the exquisite torment. Sylus's jaw was practically locked up from how hard he was clenching it. Every breath he took tasted like your skin, your scent was everywhere, and your voice was still buzzing in his ears. And then, the way you shifted, those "innocent little rolls of your hips"—it was an unbearable, exquisite torture. He was so hard it was a physical pain, but he didn't budge. Your teasing was non-stop, driving him absolutely insane, just pulling him further into this mess he’d been trying to escape all morning. And that dream… God, that dream. It had been stuck in his head all day, like a broken record, just playing over and over, a total self-inflicted punishment.

Your voice had dropped to a soft, smug purr, curling into his ear. “Maybe I’d just watch.” He pictured it, vivid and clear: you kneeling there, watching him unravel, coming on your tongue, your eyes wide, pupils blown and dark with a hunger that mirrored his own. 

His hand, resting almost innocently on your waist, twitched. You were absolutely going to break him. You were absolutely doing it on purpose, weren't you? Pushing every single one of his limits. He swallowed hard, the sound rough in his throat. His control, already stretched thin as a wire, was about to snap. That dream, that damn dream. You had begged in that dream. Pulled him closer, lips parted, your back arching like a bow, eyes half-lidded and heavy with desire. He could still feel the ghost of your nails raking down his back, the phantom ache of those love scratches. And the way you had moaned his name, a sound so impossibly sweet, so agonizingly torturous. If you ever actually breathed his name like that in real life, he was pretty damn sure he could come in his pants from that alone. 

All he wanted, more than anything, was to press you down into the cushions, feel your breath hitch, hear your voice crack when he finally made you say it. Say his name. Say it like you needed him. Say it like your life depended on it.

But instead, he gave you a warning “Careful, kitten. If you watch too long… you might beg to join.” He meant it. Every single word. But the cruel irony was, he was the one begging, silently, desperately, for the same thing.

Knock knock knock.

The sound slammed into the quiet, dragging him back from the precipice of his desire with brutal force. You startled against him, a small, sudden jerk of your body, and Sylus felt your fingers dig into his arm for balance. The innocent movement sent another sharp, agonizing pulse of heat straight to his pants. He hated whoever was on the other side of that door. Precisely he would kill them, no matter who it is. 

Knock. Knock.

At the secondtime, your body reacted almost automatically, a sudden fluster washing over you, breaking the charged intimacy of the moment before. 

“I- I’ll get it—” You moved to stand, already heading for the door, but your knees betrayed you. A sudden, stupid wobble, and your balance deserted you. Your foot, clumsy and uncooperative, caught the edge of the coffee table, and a sharp gasp escaped your lips as you stumbled forward. The room seemed to tilt, spinning around you.

Sylus moved with a terrifying speed, faster than your mind could even register. His hands shot out, gripping your waist, pulling you down with him to break your fall. You landed hard against his chest with a breathless “oof”, your hands bracing instinctively against him. His arms were still curled protectively around you, a secure cage.

“You okay?” he asked.

Your lips parted, but no words came. You were too aware of everything: the furious thrum of his heart beating beneath your palm, the intimate press of your thighs straddling one of his legs, the encompassing warmth of his body caging yours. You blinked down at him, your face mere inches from his, his vivid eyes searching yours. You nodded slowly.

“Y-Yeah… Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Your apology trailed off, unfinished, lost in the sudden, magnetic pull of his gaze. Because now… Now your eyes were locked on his mouth, the curve of his lips, slighty parting as he breathed. And he was staring back with intensity. You knew, with a certainty that resonated deep within you both, that you were suspended on the precipice of something significant. 

But then, Sylus exhaled. A long, rough breath that seemed to shudder up from the depths of his chest. He let go. The possessive grip of his hands at your waist loosened, the comforting pressure fading. He leaned his head back against the floor, squeezed his eyes shut for a heartbeat that stretched into an eternity.

“This isn't how…” he muttered, more for himself, clearly fighting his own internal battle.

You blinked, the haze of the near-kiss slowly dissipating. “...What?”

He opened his eyes, and the playful intensity that had flickered between you was gone. 

“Not like this,” he repeated, like it hurt to say it. His thumb brushed your side once before he let his hand fall away completely. “Not when you don’t know what you’re asking for.”

Your heart hammered against your ribs, frantic against the sudden silence. Your mouth felt dry like sandpaper. You didn’t know what to say. You weren’t even sure if you were disappointed, relieved, or just caught somewhere in between. You sat up slowly, the air suddenly cooler without his hands on you.

The insistent knock echoed again, but it seemed muffled, distant, as if coming from another room entirely. Sylus remained on the floor for another drawn-out breath, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, one hand covering his mouth as if he were trying to gather the scattered fragments of himself. Then, with a visible effort, he stood up. 

"Let me check the door," he said without looking at you. 

Your heartbeat was still climbing down from something dangerous. You bit your lip, a sudden wave of uncertainty washing over you. Did I? Did I really want to…? The truth was, you didn’t know how far you would’ve gone. Maybe you hadn’t really thought it through. Maybe you were teasing just to get a reaction. You finally stood, slowly, tugging at the hem of your shirt like it could hide the rush of emotions crawling over your skin.

He opened the door, and you were still battling the knot in your chest, pretending your pulse wasn’t racing after what just happened. No voices from the hallway. No surprise visitor. Just a package. Sylus stepped back inside, calm as ever, carrying a small black parcel tucked under one arm. He set the package on your counter.

You expected a witty remark, a playful tease to diffuse the tension, a return to his usual way. Instead, he leaned in and pressed a soft, gentle kiss to your forehead. The warmth of it bloomed silently across your skin, settling like a quiet promise in your heart and cheeks. That… that was entirely unfair. You pout slightly as you look down on your feets. 

“I need to go back” His voice was quiet. Then, a hint of that familiar smirk touched his lips as he added “Don't spend the night playing, kitten.” 

And just like that, he was gone. Leaving you standing in the quiet apartment with a storm sitting in your chest, and the heat of his lips still on your skin. You scoffed, a sound that held more frustration than amusement, and flopped face-down onto the couch, the cushions muffling a groan.

Your thoughts were a chaotic whirlwind, scattering in a dozen different directions at once. You shifted positions restlessly, five times in one minute. Later, you tried reading, checking your message, even pretending like nothing had happened. It didn't work. You cursed the oblivious delivery person for their impeccable timing. Your mind keeps replaying every second. The way he’d looked at you like he wanted to devour you and memorize you at the same time. The way he pulled back, even when you were practically burning on top of him.

Stupid package. It was just supplements for your workout. They could have left it with the neighbor or at the post office. Your head is in a new turmoil. What the hell were you thinking?  You had to admit it, you’d always found Sylus a bit… intriguing. He was impossible to ignore. He was charming. Annoying. Too good-looking for his own good. And somehow, somewhere along the timeline, he’d gone from being a professional headache to someone who’d practically forced his way into your life. 

At some point, you’d started to like having him around. “We're besties” . He said it every time he did something that made your heart stutter and your brain short-circuit. So, just like a good friend , you decided to mess with him, on that one day he couldn’t defend himself. A flirty push to see if you could get under his skin. You wanted to play a prank on him… but a prank that involved giving him an erection? You groaned into your hands. Who flirts with their friend until they give him a full-body crisis? You do, apparently. You, the master of disastrously poor decisions. He was rock hard, about to kiss, no, about to devour you if… 

Enough. 

After a long shower that did nothing to calm your nerves, you threw on an oversized shirt, rubbed a towel through your damp hair, and collapsed on the bed. The scent of your shampoo filled the room. The sheets were cool against your skin. You couldn’t stop thinking about him. You look with aestheticism at the crow stuffed animal.

“Not look at me like that. You owner is a meanie.” 

Hours melted away in your brain-spiral. It got to that dead-of-night level where your thoughts crank up the volume and logic takes a hike, leaving feelings in charge. You groaned, dragging the blanket over your head and then shoving it off again two seconds later. Screw it. You reached for your phone, thumb hovering over your messages before tapping the one contact who would answer, even if she yelled at you for it. It rang twice. A tired voice picked up.

“Ugh. It’s past midnight. This better be good,” came Tara’s sleepy voice.

You exhaled, your voice muffled by the pillow. “Tara, I gave Sy- Skye a boner.”

There was a pause. A long, drawn-out silence that stretched across the call.

“...Is this going to be one of those calls?” Tara finally asked, a weary resignation creeping into her tone.

“Yes.” You could practically hear the rustle of sheets as Tara likely sat bolt upright in her bed, the sleepiness momentarily banished.

Okay," she sighed. "Go on."

You sighed and flopped back onto the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. “I was just teasing him, you know? Just trying to fluster him, get a rise out of him… and then it just… escalated. It went too far.”

“How far is too far ?” she asked.

“Not like that” you clarified quickly. “He stopped it.” You continued to stare at the ceiling, replaying the scene in your mind. “He said something like, ‘You don’t know what you’re asking for.’” You rubbed your forehead while explaining to her the situation you were in. The words had been looping in your head since he’d walked out the door. “Tara, he was… he was hard.”

A pause. Then a very unimpressed, “Okay?”

You bit your lip, the memory of the undeniable evidence still making your stomach flip. “I mean… very hard.” 

“Again,” Tara repeated, the unimpressed tone unwavering, “okay?”

“I just… I didn’t realize he—” You trailed off, the unspoken implication hanging heavy in the air.

“You literally pressed your ass against that man,” Tara cut in, her voice flat and laced with disbelief, “and you’re surprised he got all bricked up? Seriously?” You groaned, dragging a pillow over your face in a futile attempt to block out her infuriating logic. Tara, however, was having none of it, her laughter loud, delighted, and utterly merciless. “I told you he was down for you. I. Told. You. The way he stares? Like he's under some kind of spell.”

You let the pillow fall away with a defeated sigh. “…Not helping, Tara.”

“I am helping,” she insisted. “Go on a real date. And no, feeding stray cats doesn’t count.”

You blinked. “…A real date.”

“Yes, oh brilliant mind. Food. Actual conversation. Maybe some wine. Staring longingly at each other across a flickering candle or some other cliché. Then maybeeee … you’ll stop calling me at midnight about his veeeery hard problem.”

You snorted despite yourself, a reluctant chuckle escaping. “You are the absolute worst.”

“I know. Get some sleep. And call me,” she added, a mischievous lilt returning to her voice, “when you have successfully slept with him.”

“…You’re right—Tara!” You could hear her laughter erupt again on the other end of the line. “I am not calling you then.”

“I have my hopes,” she said, still chuckling. “Goodnight.”

The call ended. You lay there in silence, staring at the ceiling, heart still thudding. A real date . You lay curled up under your sheets, staring at the dim glow of your phone screen as Tara’s voice echoed in your mind. You sighed, thumbing over your messages. The last one from Sylus was hours ago.

His name sat at the top of your messages. You hovered over it, a nervous flutter cross your stomach. This could be a spectacular disaster. He could ignore it, leaving you hanging in the digital void. He could tease you relentlessly, turning your tentative olive branch into a source of endless amusement. But still… a small, reckless part of you whispered, what if? You opened the chat window. Typed slow. Backspaced three times. Then finally, sent :

[you]: if i asked you on an actual date, like a real one, would you say yes?

You stared at the screen. Nothing. Still typing… Gone. Typing again… Your heart pounded. 

[sylus]: how come?

Your thumbs hovered, heart beating loud.

[you]: because i want to know

[you]: what i feel for you

There was a pause, longer this time.

[sylus]: i see.

[sylus]: so all that grinding wasn’t just curiosity.

[sylus]: i thought you were trying to kill me. turns out you were flirting.

You groaned into your pillow, cheeks burning. Of course he wouldn’t just let you have the moment. 

[sylus]: but since this is our first date…

[sylus]: let me take you out. properly.

You smiled, biting your lip. Your fingers hovered again. One last message.

[you]: Then… we have a date?

[sylus]: yes, we do. no backing out now, kitten.

------

So here you are. On a date with Sylus. And somehow, it’s both exactly what you expected and nothing like it at all. The day started with a visit to the zoo. A private one, maybe? You’re not even sure it’s open to the public, but no one stopped him when he led you in like he owned the place. Which, to be fair, he might. You ended up standing in front of the lion enclosure, watching a small cub chase its own tail and tumble into the larger ones. 

“Look,” you murmured, smiling. “They're so cute.”

“They’re not as cute as you,” Sylus said, eyes on you instead of the lions. You instinctively looked away, a blush warming your cheeks despite your best efforts to remain cool. While you were momentarily distracted by your own flustered reaction, he smoothly pilfered your smoothie. Drinking for them. When you playfully tried to snatch it back, he offered you a peace offering: a slice of bright orange. His smile is gentle, almost tender. Trustingly, you bit into it, only to be assaulted by the most intensely bitter citrus you had ever encountered. He watched your reaction, that soft smile widening into a pleased smirk. He looked so pleased with himself. You narrowed your eyes. You’re starting to believe bitter oranges might be his favorite fruit. This date, you realized with a wry smile, was going to be… interesting.

After that chaos, he took you to a fancy café on the wealthy side of Linkon. The kind of place with minimalist gold accents and waiters who look like they were grown in a lab. You had no idea what you ordered, but it was delicious. And just when you thought the day was winding down, Sylus had one more idea. 

Specifically, dragging you through the most expensive boutiques you’ve ever stepped foot in, pointing out outfits that were actually things you would have picked also. So you played along. He waited in the lounge area with a drink in hand, shamelessly turning every outfit into some kind of performance review.

“That one's nice,” he said. “But... not quite you . Next.” You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his dramatic pronouncements.

You reappeared in a slinky silk dress with a halter neckline and a daringly open back. It felt like something you should be wearing under the moonlight, not the harsh glare of the boutique's lighting. Stepping out, you fully expected some witty, probably sarcastic, remark. But when your eyes met his, Sylus set down his glass with a soft click. 

You blinked. “Too much?”

“No.” He moved towards you, his gaze intense. “That's absolutely the one.” He leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “You look beautiful, my beloved.” Your heart did a little skip, a sudden, unexpected flutter. You turned to head back towards the changing room, a warmth spreading through you, when he raised a hand towards one of the impeccably dressed store staff.

“Leave it on,” he said, offering you his arm. “We have one more stop for today.”

Your brow arched. “What about my clothes?”

He just gave that same, infuriating, unreadable grin. “Don’t worry. The twins will pick everything up.”

-------

By now, you don’t know what’s going on. You’re either dreaming, or you've completely lost track of what reality is supposed to feel like. The day has been so busy that you haven't even stopped to think about your “mission”. Figuring out if you have feelings for him. That had been the point, hadn’t it? To dissect this strange, undeniable pull between you. You exhaled slowly, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you rested your head against the cool glass of the car window. The sun has already dipped below the skyline. The city blurs past in soft oranges and cool shadows. You’ve been driving for a while now. The road has quieted.

And as you sit there, you realize that today felt… normal. You laughed with Sylus. You made fun of each other. He had bought you a ridiculously oversized ice cream cone and you devoured it with an almost childlike glee. He even carried your bag without being asked. Something clicked in your chest, a sudden understanding, and you instinctively placed a hand there, finally tuning into the frantic rhythm of your pulse.

You glance sideways at him. At the man driving next to you. His face is half-lit by the dashboard glow. Focused and calm. Your gaze falls to his lips. Always one breath away from something smug. You found yourself wondering with a surprising intensity, what they would feel like pressed against your own… You don't even realize you're staring until—

“Something wrong, kitten?”

Your pulse stumbles. You look away immediately, heat crawling up your neck. “It’s nothing,” you mumbled, trying to sound casual, nonchalant..

You desperately tried to play it cool, to pretend you hadn’t just been staring at him with the wide-eyed intensity. To ignore the insistent urge to lean across the console and kiss him senseless, until the nagging doubts in your head finally shut up. You’ve been wanting to kiss him for a while. Like before… 

When the last lick of ice cream was gone, you smoothed on some neutral lipstick, a small, grounding ritual. Sylus's eyes followed your movements. You met his gaze, a daring impulse rising within you. “Your lips look dry,” you murmured, offering the tube. He pretended to be utterly bewildered. “Help me?” he asked, all innocent eyes. And just like that, you were leaning in, carefully swiping the balm across his lips, the playful moment sending a surprising little thrill through you. You wanted to kiss him. 

Aslo when he was at your place. Before that. Way before. You just didn’t want to admit it. And now you’re sitting next to him, watching the city disappear behind you, and wondering… If you kissed him now, would he pull away? Or would he give in? 

You touch your lips without thinking. Outside, the city gives way to hills, and buildings blur into soft silhouettes. The lights grow sparser. The sky turns deep blue. Your body relaxes with each passing mile. And then your eyes grow heavier. Before you realize it, you’ve dozed off. 

“Where are we?” you ask softly, voice still thick with sleep and wonder.

Sylus doesn’t look at you. He just smiles like he’s been waiting for you to ask.

“One of my other properties,” he says casually, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world to have multiple hidden homes scattered across the city. Before you can form a follow-up question, he’s already out of the car. A moment later, your door swung open, and he leaned down slightly, his hand extended towards you.

“My lady,” he says, eyes gleaming. You slipped your hand into his, the warmth of his touch sending a familiar shiver up your arm.

The moment you step inside, the scent of fresh flowers wraps around you. Your favorite ones, their colors spread out across the room in soft, wild arrangements that look like they were placed by someone who remembered what you said in passing weeks ago. The table was set, not with stiff formality, but with an intimate, effortless romance. Wine already breathed in an elegant decanter, accompanied by a tempting array of cheese, glistening honey, and artfully sliced fruit. And then you saw it: a small, layered cake with a tiny, handwritten tag that read: “not poisoned. promise.”

A choked laugh escaped your lips. He knew you far too well, your dark humor a familiar language between you. Sylus walks in behind you, pressing a button on a sleek panel. Soft jazz hums through hidden speakers. You’re melting. There’s no other word for it. All day you’ve felt like you were spinning, dancing between teasing and tension. You turn toward him.

“Sylus…” you start, voice cracking slightly under the weight of it all.

He steps forward, closing the space between you.

“Don’t think.” You blink, confused. His fingertips brushed the delicate skin on the inside of your wrist, a touch so feather-light it sent a shiver tracing a path up your spine. “What do you feel?”

The directness of the question hung in the air. Every inch of you feels like it’s buzzing. All you could do was look up at him, his eyes mirroring the intensity of your own unspoken feelings. Almost without conscious thought, you took a small step closer, drawn by the pull of your soul. His thumb, still resting against your wrist, ghosted over the frantic beat of your heart.

You’re not sure who moves first. Maybe it’s you, swaying slightly forward, your fingers brushing his finger, moving up to his forearm. Or maybe it was him, his hand tilting ever so slightly, an unspoken invitation as he guided your palm to rest within his. His eyes flickered down to your lips, a fleeting glance, but it was enough to send a shiver through you.

Your other hand lifted, slowly, fingers brushing against the smooth fabric of his coat collar. His breath hitched, an almost imperceptible sound, yet you heard it, clear as a bell in the hushed room. You tilted your head. The unspoken invitation hung in the air. His hand cupped your jaw with a tenderness that resonated deep within you, threatening to unravel the carefully constructed walls around your heart.

And when your lips meet, it was more than simple fireworks. Warm. Deep. Soft at first. So soft you thought your knees might give. He kissed you with a reverence that spoke of fragility, as if he feared you might vanish like a dream. Like he’s been holding this in for so long. 

When you finally pulled apart, your breath was coming in shallow gasps and your chest aching with a sweet fullness. His forehead rested gently against yours.

“That’s… what I feel.” He huffs, a breath of disbelief and something like a laugh, shaking his head with that small, crooked smile that always undoes you. Before you could even find the words to break the spell, he swept you off your feet, his arm slipping effortlessly beneath your knees. Your own arms reacted instinctively, wrapping around his neck, your body molding against his with a familiarity that felt both new and ancient.

“Sylus—” You gasp, but he’s already pulling you in, stealing one more kiss from your lips. It’s slower this time. Deeper. Like now that the line has been crossed, he wants to take his time.

When he pulls back, his nose brushes yours. “Can I give you your options, my lady?”

You blink, breath caught in your throat. “What options?”

His lips graze the corner of your mouth as he murmurs—

“Stay here with me tonight. Just you and me. No games. No teasing. Just us.”

“Or?” you ask, raising one eyebrow, your voice light..

Sylus exhales slowly, still holding you, still close.

“We have dinner,” he says, gazing steadily, “and I drive you home.”

You frown, just slightly. “Why?”

He doesn't answer at first. His jaw flexes, and he pulls in another breath—deeper this time.

“Sweetie,” he murmurs, “I’m a very patient man, but…” He lets out a shaky breath, one he clearly didn’t mean to show. “I’m not sure if I can keep—”

“Sylus.” Your voice cuts him. His eyes lock with yours. You see it all there—want, worry, control, vulnerability and a try not to take too much too fast. You reach up, placing one palm against his cheek. “You don’t need to hold back.”

He blinks. Just once. His throat works around a silent question. “Are you sur—”

You answer with your lips, your body, your breath. Because you love that he’s considerate. You love that he’s careful. But right now? Words can wait.

It’s wild. You barely make it down the hall. He kissed you with a burning intensity—slow and focused one second, deep and messy the next. You stumble together, laughing into each other’s mouths, lips never far for long. He sets you on your feet. Your shoes come off somewhere between a kiss and a sigh. You fumble with the buttons on his shirt, fingers too clumsy, too eager. He chuckles low, breaking the kiss just enough to murmur against your jaw.

“You’re truly restless.” 

You blink up at him, dazed, flushed, wanting. And without saying a word, he turns you around. You feel his hands skim up your back. Then his lips brush your shoulder, a kiss so soft it makes you shiver. His fingers find the button behind your neck, the one holding your dress together. You wait, breath caught. The clasp slips free and the fabric falls half to your hips.

Cool air kisses your skin—followed immediately by the heat of his hands. They start at your waist, gliding slowly upward, palms warm, grounding. He traces the curve of your belly first, then higher—just beneath your breasts, not touching yet, just letting the space hum between contact and restraint. Your head falls back against him. Savoring the moment.

“Sylus…” The word escaped in a husky gasp. You’re trembling. From the anticipation, the heat in between your legs. From the way he touches you, drawing out the pleasure. Every nerve is awake, alive, desperate. And through all of it, a question forms in the back of your mind—one that hits you harder than all the touches, all the teasing, all the heat. How did you not realize how you felt about him sooner? Because now… you can’t imagine not feeling this. Not wanting this. Not wanting him. The desire overtakes you.

You want to show him. That this isn’t just chemistry. It’s trust. It’s care. It’s you choosing him, not just for tonight. You turn in his arms, chest bare, eyes burning. His breath stutters. You take a single step back, still watching him. Slowly reaching for the rest of the dress. Slipping it down including your panties from your hips, letting it fall with a whisper to the floor.

You stand there, completely bare except for the look in your eyes.

Sylus freezed. You could practically see his brain short-circuiting—whatever smooth, smug thing he might’ve said died somewhere in his throat the moment your last barrier dropped. His cock was visibly straining against the fabric of his pants now, the outline so pronounced it made you lick your lips. With a low curse under his breath, Sylus steps forward and grabs you by the waist, dragging you flush against him.

You gasp into the kiss, your hands finding his shoulders, digging in. He walks you until your knees hit the edge of the bed, and then with a single push, he brings you down onto the mattress. The sheets are cool against your back, but the heat between you flares instantly as he leans over you, eyes dark and hungry, lips slightly parted like he’s about to say something but then doesn’t.

Kisses flew across your skin like sparks—neck, shoulders, collarbones. His mouth left nothing untouched. Sylus moved like he knew your body better than you did. Like he’d mapped it in his mind a hundred times. His hands were everywhere at once. Sliding down your sides, cupping your thighs, holding you open, holding you close. Everywhere he touched, you burned. And the way he looked at you? His gaze was so intense, so steady, it made you feel seen in ways that made your chest ache. It was too much. You tried to turn your head, to hide your face from the way his crimson eyes watched every reaction, every flicker of vulnerability. His hand cupped your face, gently but firmly, turning you back to him.

“Eyes on me,” he murmured. A command you didn’t think to disobey.

You moaned softly, as his mouth lowered again. Over your nipple, belly, the inside of your thigh. Each kiss he gave you, was a way of worshipping you. And then—his hot, wet mouth reached your core. Your back arched violently, your fingers digging into the sheets. Your eyes rolled back, and a cry escaped you as his tongue plunged deep and slow into. Licking you with a sensual way that stole your breath. 

One hand pressed down, a firm anchor below your navel, the other finding yours, fingers locking together in a desperate hold. Your moans turned to whimpers, your legs shaking,  your whole body strung tight, under the rhythm of his mouth.

He licked you until the pressure coiled sharp in you, you were panting, your hips twitching helplessly beneath him. Your climax was so close—so achingly, devastatingly close—your mind went blank, the world reduced to the wet heat of his tongue and the way he made you feel so completely his. And then he stopped. You gasped, a broken little sound slipping out before you could swallow it.

"Sy—"

But he was already moving. Still fully dressed, flushed and focused, the predator is back in control. You barely had time to catch your breath, your body humming from his intimate ministrations, before he stood, shrugging off his jacket in one swift, fluid motion. His shirt followed, the buttons popping open in rapid succession, revealing the sculpted muscle of his chest. His belt clinked, the sound sparking something deep and wild in wetness. He moved with the impatient energy of a man who had waited long enough to devour you.

You watched, slightly breathless—slightly disappointed. You had wanted to be the one to undress him, to slowly peel away each layer. But… it was only fair, wasn’t it? You didn't give him the chance either.

You sat up a bit, eyes wide and fixed on him. He caught your look—how you were practically screaming to him to hurry. Like you couldn’t breathe until you saw him completely naked. His smirk returned. He teased you, thumb hooking under the band of his boxers. Your gaze dropped, your legs pressing involuntarily together. Your eyes said it for you.

Let me see it already.

He loved it. Sylus held your gaze for a heartbeat longer, then slowly, purposefully, he slid the waistband down. Your breath hitched, your jaw dropping almost imperceptibly before your eyes flickered back up to meet him. He let the fabric fall to the floor, stepping out of it with practiced ease, and walked toward the bed. He kissed you deeply, guiding you further up the mattress as his hard, naked body slide effortlessly over yours.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered against your ear. “It’ll fit.”

A sound somewhere between a breathless laugh and a needy moan escaped your lips, your heart hammering. How is he so confident? It doesn’t matter. All you craved was the feel of him, all of him, pressed against you. Your hands, no longer hesitant, roamed over the smooth skin of his back, tracing the contours of his muscles with a desperate hunger.

Sylus shifted between your legs, and you opened for him instinctively, inviting him to come close. The air filled with the mingled scents of heated skin and sweet arousal. His thick length, hard and pulsing, brushed and grinded against your slick folds, making your whole body tremble. You gasped, moving your hips closer to his cock, eyes fluttering shut as the fabric rustled with the intensity of your grip. The friction alone was too much, not enough, everything.

“Do you want it, kitten?” His voice was a low, husky growl. You whimpered, nodding frantically, your breath catching in a ragged sob. “Say it.”

You swallowed hard. Your mouth was dry. Your thoughts had dissolved into a hazy fog of pure sensation, the only coherent urge was the burning ache for him, inside you, now. 

“Yes…” Your voice cracked. You opened your eyes, met his gaze locked on yours. “I want you.”  And then, with a low growl, he thrust in. The stretch made you see moons and stars, a whole galaxy of sensation had burst open inside your chest. He filled you completely, stretching you to your limit, and you clung to him, your arms wrapped tight around his back. Like you were drowning. 

After that, the world dissolved into a kaleidoscope of sensation, fragmented and intense. The rhythm was restless , almost wild, the bed groaning and protesting beneath your movements. But there was love in it. So much love. Every thrust, every grip, every kiss that scorched its way across your skin— everything tingled. Every inch of you was alive, lit up from the inside. You remember screaming. Loud. Raw. Moaning like your life depended on it. And maybe, in that moment, it did.

The heat between you became steam, turning to pearls of sweat that traced paths down your forehead, your neck, your collarbone. He followed their descent with his lips, tasting the salty evidence. You remember his mouth trailing fire, the playful yet possessive nip of his teeth against your skin. Your fingers tangling in his hair, holding him to you like he was the only thing in this world. His voices, his tender loving voice, praising you through every wave, every tremble. His breath came in ragged, uneven gasps, a mirror to your own frantic rhythm.

“Say my name…” His voice was a low, insistent command against your swollen lips.

You’d blinked up at him, dazed, aching. You wanted to ask why. He knew his name . But then he’d whispered again, between kisses that made forget what your were thinking about, sending tremor through your very soul:

“Say it, my beloved.”

And you moaned his name—louder, needier—as he gave one deep, devastating thrust that pulled the breath from your lungs and sent you spiraling over the edge, falling apart beneath him. 

You don’t remember the exact moment you drifted off. Only that your body had finally gone still, every nerve lulled into calm by the warmth wrapped around you. The scent of him—of you both—hung in the air. Faint traces of sweat, sex, his cologne, and your own lingering arousal swirled into something that settled deep in your lungs. It was grounding. Intoxicating. 

His arm was draped around your waist, heavy and protective. His chest pressed against your back. At some point, you’d felt him shift—heard the rasp of his voice against your shoulder. He’d said something. Too low for your drifting consciousness to fully grasp. Maybe you’d ask him about it when you woke up. Whenever that would be.

------

After what feels like long, dreamless hours, something breaks through the haze. Light. The golden kind, warm and sharp, slipping through the blinds and landing annoyingly right on your face. You scrunched up your nose in protest, a soft groan escaping your lips. Then – you registered it. Strong arms wrapped securely around you. A warm chest against your back. The smallest of a breath brush near your neck.

A slow smile spread across your sleep-softened lips, a feeling of deep contentment blooming in your chest. You try to turn over, to nuzzle into him, to bury yourself deeper into his embrace— But you can’t move. Your brows furrow slightly as your mind fights through the remaining fog. Confused, you blinked against the intrusive sunlight, your vision still blurry, your limbs heavy and languid. Slowly, like a picture coming into focus, your surroundings began to take shape.

Wait.

This… isn’t his apartment. You blink again, squinting against the light pouring in through your own living room window. Your back hurts . Your neck felt like you’d slept on a pile of rocks. And your legs—holy hell, your legs were cramped in that specific, pretzel-like way that only happens when you pass out on a plane seat. Your brows furrowed, a knot of confusion tightening in your chest.

You twist your head slowly, peering over your shoulder. And then it hits you like a bolt of lightning. Snuggled up right behind you, was Sylus, one arm thrown possessively over your waist. You stared at him, your mind suddenly wide awake and scrambling to make sense of it.

Okay, bits and pieces were starting to click into place. You went out to feed the cats, coffee and just strolling together— that much you remember. You’d come back in, and he was looking impossibly tired. You offered him your couch. He sat down. You were about to get a blanket, and then he pulled you into his lap.

And somehow, amidst the quiet hum of the city and the gentle rise and fall of his chest, you’d both drifted off, tangled together on the damn sofa. You shift slightly, trying to slip out from his arms but the second you move, his grip tightens around your waist.

"Sylus?" you whispered, your voice still thick and rough with the remnants of sleep. "Are you awake?"

A muffled reply rumbled against your shoulder. "No." You couldn't help the soft huff of laughter that escaped you. 

"You’re not even trying to lie properly.” you pointed out, a small smile playing on your lips.

“Shh,” he murmurs. “You’re warm and I had a good dream.” The words, simple and sleep-laden, sent a little shiver down your spine. His sleepy voice should be illegal. That rough, low rumble was a crime against good sense, incredibly, unfairly sexy. It did something soft and fluttery to your insides, making the idea of escaping his embrace seem suddenly less appealing.

Dream? Hadn't you had a dream before waking up? Your face flushed as the memories flooded back: his lips, his voice, the heat of his body, the way he held you and kissed you. You shift slightly, needing to do something to ground yourself. You start to lift your right hand. Surprise. A soft, golden pulse around your wrist linked you to Sylus once more. Had you resonated with him in your sleep? 

Sylus’s head was resting lazily against your shoulder, his eyes closed but a faint, knowing smile playing on his lips. Definitely not asleep.

“We—did we resonate… in our sleep?”

He let out the faintest groan, a sound that vibrated against your back, and his arm tightened imperceptibly around you. “Apparently,” he murmured, “we’re very emotionally available when unconscious.”

You tried to twist in his hold, wanting to see his face, but he didn’t allow it, his grip firm but not forceful.

“Sylus.”

“Kitten.”

“What did you dream about?” You persisted, a playful curiosity bubbling up despite the lingering embarrassment from your own dream-induced blush. He huffed, finally cracking open his eyes, a lazy amusement dancing within them. “You said it was a good dream.”

“It was,” he confirme, stretching slowly behind you, utterly unbothered. “But I won’t tell you.”

“Huh? Why?” you frown offended.

He tilted his head, that familiar, knowing smirk beginning to appear on his lips. “Then tell me what you dreamed.” You froze, your mouth opening and closing soundlessly. You felt like a fish gasping for air. The blush creeps up your neck fast. “I could tell you,” he continued, his voice dropping to a low purr. He leaned in, his lips brushing the delicate shell of your ear. “Only…” he whispered, his breath sending shivers down your spine, “…if you go on a date with me.”

----

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