#i left out a lot of plot mind you just to get this out in a reasonable sized post. theres a lot of good stuff in here

[ao3commentoftheday]

hi, first of all thank you so much for running this blog! i've followed you for a quite a while now and i can't express enough how helpful it has been!

i think this is more of a little confession than an ask, i guess i just want to get some stuff off my chest. feel free to ignore this though because i dont think what i'm about to say here is something that hasn't been said before, now that i've scrolled your blog for like an hour or so.

i've never written really consistently, same goes for my other stuff like art or vid editing. i feel like having a solid plot isn't really my strong suit so i usually just stick to oneshots where there are little actions but a lot of feeling lol, and even with that i have drafts and bullet points from 5 years ago that i haven't touched. there's a lot of struggle with finishing things as well, wips of all kind just keep accumulating and i just feel so guilty over that, especially when i get the idea for something new. i suppose the more i internalize that the more i get intimidated by the mere thought of starting anything at all.

so recently i got a new shiny idea of a multichapter fic, its scope is larger than anything i have ever written or attempted to, and it has plot. i have basically spent weeks trying to piece together a string of plot, setting up characterization and all that jazz. i got pretty ambitious with how the story unfold, so there is considerably more prepping than ever.

i'm now writing the pilot chapter, and honestly it is getting frustrating. i know you have mentioned speedrunning to jump straight into "the good bits" before, but there's just this strange obligation to the opening that i can't quite shake off. i also set up this mental quota for words count, and seeing myself spending days and still not reaching that number is very disheartening.

realistically, i can see many recommending slowly building up my writing, like just biting what i can chew and enlarge the bite as i go. but the idea of shelving this one feels bad, and i wanna ride the high before i start losing interest and eventually look back on this project with some sort of bitter regret like many others. i know the saying about projects not disappearing and i can always pick up from where i left it, but my mind doesn't seem to be happy with that, and this is worsened be the reminder of my other several-year-old abandoned fic.

sorry for the whole rambling. i am aware that this is a mindset problem and i have issues with instant gratification. it just i was so excited during the planning phase and now the actual writing is so stagnant that i feel like im losing hope for a breakthrough. and i couldn't even ramble to anyone about the plans because most of my friends aren't into what i'm writing for/the particular character i'm centering this fic around i'm scared that i'm gonna bother them; i am not actually active in the fandom and joining a server makes me insanely anxious. the whole thing just feels more and more like digging a hole for myself and lie there.

again i am so sorry for the rambling this got out of hand! i hope you have a good day!

Oof. Deep breath, anon! It's okay 💗

You've got several things in this ask that I want to have a quick chat with you about, but feel free to jump to the end if what I'm saying isn't hitting for you.

I want to start by addressing your little personal history that you gave up at the top. This is something that I hear from a lot of people about various hobbies, not just writing. We feel guilty when we don't finish a project. We feel bad when we stop doing something when it stops being fun.

That's normal. That's a perfectly fine choice to make with how you spend your free time. Just because school and work both require you to finish projects doesn't mean that your hobbies require that too. Just because your parents said you couldn't give up on [insert hobby here] because it cost so much for your lessons or equipment etc. doesn't mean that you have to hold yourself to that same standard when you're the one paying your own bills. Besides, writing is free.

Be a little kinder to yourself and a little more forgiving when you DNF a fic. You're allowed to quit writing as much as you're allowed to quit reading. If it sucks, hit da bricks.

Related to that idea is the way you talk about "struggling to finish fics." Of course you struggle with doing something that you're bored or frustrated with. If the story itself isn't more interesting than the struggle why would you continue with it? Keeping yourself motivated isn't just about energy. It's also about passion. When it comes to a hobby, the only person pushing you to finish a thing is you. And when you're tired after working all day or after finishing a full day of school, you don't want to start writing a fic that feels like homework. You want to work on a fic that feels like play.

It sounds like you got that play feeling from creating the plan for your story. Whatever you were doing at that stage was keeping your passion alive. So what's changed since you shifted from planning to writing?

If you've created a strict outline that you're now trying to follow then it might feel like you're doing homework or just filling in boxes in the fic-writing factory. Try to find places where you can still make creative decisions as you go, where you haven't got things all planned out in advance. Put a little "choose your own adventure" back into your storytelling and that passion might come back.

Try investigating that "obligation to the opening" as well. What's the cause of that? Was the first scene the one that prompted the rest of the story? Are you trying to do the tone setting and worldbuilding there? What expectation have you put in place for yourself, and is there a way to shift that expectation to later in the fic? What's the most basic version of that opening that you can write to get it down on the page? You can go back later to add more to it if you still think it needs it.

One thing to remember when you're writing a large, complex story is that the reader doesn't need to know anywhere near as much as you do. You can figure out 10 books worth of backstory and worldbuilding and relationship history that informs what you put on the page, but you don't actually have to write it all down if the reader doesn't need to know all of the ins and outs. And if you want, you can always create a companion fic on the side where you do go into deep dives or missing moments etc. when those things ignite a spark inside you.

When it comes to word count, though? Throw. That. Idea. In. The. Garbage. The number of words you use has nothing to do with the quality of the story that you're telling. It's a number that you've clearly put some kind of meaning into, but saying that a 100K fanfic is better than a 20K fanfic is kind of like saying that a 6ft tall person is better than a 5ft tall person based solely on their respective heights. It makes no sense!

I'll get off that particular soap box now, anon, but I do hope that you'll be kinder to yourself. You're beating yourself up in a dozen different ways and none of them are a good reason to be so mean to the most important person in your life: yourself. ❤️

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s8 episode 15 “deadalive” thoughts

somehow, i survived waiting 24-ish hours between watching the last episode and starting this one. no idea how i found the strength.

but here we are. and i think i’m probably going to cry again today. 

i am interested to see if we’ll get doggett and reyes time or if this will be scully and skinner only. and i am interested to see, uh… well… how this stuff happens.

it has the plot RIGHT THERE in the episode description, so it’s hard for me to feign surprise 💀 i know what happens, but i don’t know how!!

oh, i can feel my tears kicking into gear already. 

let’s go.

(post-episode thoughts: waughhhhh…. waughhhhhh…. awooooooooo <- those are the sounds of me howling and moaning

actually, vague noises of pain aside, i tried to really articulate WHY everything hurt so much in this writeup, so i hope you appreciate that 🙏

certain parts of this episode made little sense, but overall, there was some REALLY good stuff. REALLY, REALLY good stuff.

and while all of our characters had very important moments in their journey here, the one who sticks out to me the most is skinner. he did not hesitate to do either of those Very Risky Things he did for a SECOND. there was no doubt in his mind at all. he would throw everything away for them. and, wow… that’s just…. so much. he’s so much.

and doggett, too……. we got the whole range of him in this episode. he was so sweet!!! and then he was in a rage because he’s so worried about scully and thinks she’s off the deep end, making everything worse for herself. and he’s reliving his worst moments, thinks she’s trying to get rid of him, leaves in a fury… then he goes back, gets roped into the krycek nonsense, slammed around in the car, comes back for scully, always… walks away from a career, from a FUTURE…. and then the last scene. him standing there. walking in. and then realizing it is a private moment and leaving. WAHHHHH.

and scully…. where to even begin? her collapsing into skinner, then bursting into the hospital, slamming her hands into his chest, yelling, i need to see him, i need to see him… doggett trying to protect her but Setting Her Off. going into Doctor Mode. sitting by his bed, holding his hand………..

also, i will never hear you krycek apologists out AGAIN. that is a SICK FUCK!!!! before he was evil, but it was kinda camp, but now??? i’m putting a bounty on his pretty head. we need to hunt him with lasers and stun guns and all other methods of cruel and unusual punishment. i want him eviscerated AT ONCE!!!)

“previously on the x files” <- girl, i don’t think we forgot what happened last time, LMAOOOOOO

are we getting more absalom lore? because he is featuring heavily in this recap

okay, back to the current plot.

oh my GOD, mulder really is getting buried in raleigh with his mother. we open at a winter funeral. winter… how long after may is this… (doing mental calculations) eh, i can’t do math rn.

doggett is here too, as are the gunmen. OHHHH MY GOD, the gunmen…. them being here makes it feel real

whoever is doing the funeral is asking for them to pray for his eternal soul and all that, and i’m not sure he would want that, but it might bring the guests some peace, i suppose. i doubt he had any funeral plans arranged in terms of like, who would do the talking and the burying and all that. just his headstone and plot.

and scully’s mom is here, too :( scully closes her eyes as they pray. takes a deep breath.

i was hoping we would see mrs. scully soon… but not like this :(

and then everyone else has left- it is just scully and skinner, watching the casket.

“he was the last” she says. “his father and mother… his sister. all gone” <- oh my god. i’m just gonna keep saying that a lot today.

“i think the real tragedy… is that for all of his pain and searching… the truth that he worked so hard to find was never truly revealed to him” her voice breaking, oh my god. 

“i don’t truly believe that mulder’s the last” <- oh my god. can someone please hit me with a truck? skinner coming in with the one hit KO. oh my god. fuck me. 

he said “i know he’s the father of that baby”, i’m cryingggggg. jokes aside though. wow. him trying to hold onto hope for her, give her something to cling onto… wow.

she kneels down. sprinkles some dirt over the casket. crying. oh, SHE FALLS INTO SKINNER’S CHEST LIKE A TON OF BRICKS… OH, THIS HURTS.

(the way their relationship has changed over these last few months has been absolutely fascinating. both bound together by grief of different kinds… and again, him being the very first to know about her big secret…

i assume she told him before her mother, because we see her call her later and say she has things she needs to talk about… and boy, i wish we could have seen that conversation…

but the red string of fate tying them together in ways only they can understand. going from being one of the very few people the other could trust in this terrifying world to much more than that, an actual lifeline… their mutual grief and guilt opening up doors that previously both of them would have kept boxed up and locked away. wow. so impactful)

and then the intro. BITCH! i don’t want the spooky song right now!!!

i need time to process this……. poor scully… poor gunmen…. 

allegedly mulder is here today 🤨🤨

so what now? where do we go from here? just… another case or something?

chris carter, when i catch you…

THREE MONTHS LATER. 

(BIG ASS TIMESKIP!!!!)

doggett comes into kersh’s office with skinner. “smile, john. you look tense” <- now, what is kersh planning…. and why is doggett his favorite?

he’s getting something? “a letter to the director citing your meritorious efforts in the recovery of agent fox mulder”

oh no…. he’s going to lose it…

“AND a recommendation that you be considered for advancement” damn, skinner was right about him being on a fast track to the directorship… what is he going to say!

skinner is quiet. doggett looks at him. “sir, the assistant director here deserves more credit than i…” <- oh :( a gentleman :(

but skinner says he wrote a letter too, transferring him off of the x files and “to a division more suited to your talents” <- which one?? violent crimes or something? idk the FBI areas 💔

skinner won’t look at him, but kersh smiles. says he is a man of his word. but doggett wants to give any transfer some thought. “fish while they’re biting, john”

omg…. what will he do???

scully is in the office, looking for a file, and there is no hiding her secret now, because she is very visibly pregnant. i thought she was going to go on leave, but i guess that plan changed, because she is still here.

i wonder what all the coworkers think… i bet all the gossip is very isolating.

and doggett comes in. OHHHH, he says good morning, asks how she’s feeling… she says she’s fine and asks him the same: “me? good. but then i don’t got a little j edgar to lug around” <- SCULLY :( doggett :( he’s such a dork…

she is not smiling. says skinner just called. “well, whatever he told you, i’m still going to be here to drive you crazy with questions and nagging doubt” <- he SMILES, AWWWWW, once again i point out: he likes her!!!!!!!!!

she tells him he’d be crazy to stay, but he says it’s not his career kersh has in mind. “in six weeks, you go on maternity leave. kersh transfers me out, guess what? he gets to lock that door over there for good” <- oh………. and his glance at her while saying that…

“you don’t owe me anything, agent doggett” <- OH…….. does she think he feels guilty that mulder was found dead... or like he has to protect her in some way???

“they put me down here to find mulder. i found him. so what? we still got an open file on this case, and i got big questions” 

i just had to look up from taking notes and sigh really deeply. just wanted everyone to know. he is a Good Man. a little cocky. but we'll keep him around.

she laughs a little. “what?” “i heard the same speech come out of my mouth 7 years ago” oh, way back in s2 when they shut the x files down for the very first time :( and things still felt so new and possible

she sits down… “get out while you can, agent doggett… or you may never get out at all” OHHHHHHHHHHHHH

implying that the x files bring only pain and suffering and death. wow.

i wish i could see those photos on the side of the wall better…….. 

he does not seem pleased she said that. perhaps he is pondering….

so much to unpack there already. doggett trying so hard to be gentle with her. aughhhh, she looked like it hurt to walk around :( and she still has to be there for 6 more weeks! that is fucked up.

although, something tells me that she would keep working no matter what, physical discomfort and emotional agony be damned. she has to keep moving or she'll break down.

it must really extremely suck to be a pregnant FBI agent. damn. pour one out for scully.

and he really thinks they might shut down the x files… so he says he’ll stay. scully seems like she doesn't want him to stay and throw away his career for her sake. like she thinks she's a lost cause or something. like she hates his gentlemanly pity. i wonder what she plans on doing if they shut the x files down. 

okay, let us jump to a ship off the coast of north carolina. loud rain and thunder. it’s fishing time. guys in bright yellow slickers haul things up. and then someone screams they have to stop. something is in the net!

but what? probably not a dolphin. i don’t think they have those in north carolina. lemme look that up real quick. oh shit, there are dolphins in north carolina!!! the more you know.

well, it doesn't matter, because it is not a dolphin we are dealing with today. it is... a body? they call for the coast guard. a floating naked body.

and someone comes in to do an autopsy. the doctor notes linear pattern scarring on the cheeks. BLEH, the assistant sees the mouth move?? the doctor starts to joke, but then he sees it, too!!!

doggett gets a phone call in the middle of the night! answers with a groggy “yeah?” it’s skinner, who wants him at the bureau right now. but i want to analyze his bedroom.

well, there isn’t much to look at. very wooden. blankets look cozy, though. seems like the type of guy who would be into living in a cabin in the woods.

(i didn't even see any decor, like his racing posters downstairs... if redrum gave us one thing, it was the gift of analyzing doggett's interior design prowess or lack thereof)

the fisherman found a dead body and it was billy miles!!! doggett doesn’t know who that is, so skinner explains. what is the big hurry? “now he’s alive” <- OKAY! now we're cooking!!!

what happened to our friend billy????

he gets in the car with skinner and asks if he’s told scully. doggett strongly recommends that he doesn’t. it’ll reopen old wounds and she’s had a difficult pregnancy.

aughhhhh :( poor scully... the fact that he knows this, and you KNOW she did not want to tell him about that... with all the damn spine slugs and hospital visits... it must have been pretty fucking rough considering one of her trademark catchphrases is "i'm fine" (which generally means she is Not)

skinner says he wouldn’t have told her anyway… not where we’re going. and where is that??

the graveyard??? are they gonna dig mulder up?

doggett does NOT want to do it.

“i’ll say it again, we’re opening up more than a grave here”

“i respect that, agent doggett, but under the circumstances, i think not digging it up would be far more regrettable, don’t you?”

“NO!” LMAO, he has strong feelings on this. “i think this is insanity” <- the boston came out on that line!!! he’s pissed!!

“yeah, well, personally, i couldn’t live with the doubt” <- skinnnnneeer :( willing to do anything, absolutely ANYTHING, to make sure his agents always get a chance... trying to avoid more of the guilt that already haunts him... and his ability to recognize that. damn. i'm having many thoughts.

remember when i thought he was evil in like, s2? LMAO. how wrong i was… sometimes i like being wrong, though. this was best case scenario. now that is my friend skinner

“we saw da same body!” yells doggett, his accent continuing to vex and intrigue me

but there is a crew of people here digging the body up. and they take it in for an investigation. where a whole bunch of people are watching. skinner declares he wants them gone. 

doggett gets ‘em gone: “alright, listen up ladies and gentlemen. as much as you’re here to see the horror show, i’m not letting that casket open up until we get some privacy. it’s a private matter. thank you” <- love a man that gets results!!!

skinner is staring like he might have made a giant mistake. also, he asked for a specific pathologist…. who could that be?? we only really know of one…

this must be the doctor that analyzed billy. and it is! along with his assistant. he tells skinner it’s a totally different situation. doggett reminds skinner again that he is insane. they lift it open. 

he looks dead… but so did billy. who knows? skinner peers in.

OH! they’re at a new hospital now. and scully is here. how did she hear about this? she is striding in with purpose.

“is it true?” skinner tells her to slow down. “no. i want to see him” he gets closer. “i know you do”

“no, i need to see him, damn it!” she slams his chest. ohhhhhhh....... the physical manifestations of grief... i cannot imagine how she feels

he grabs her: “you’re not going in there! scully, you can’t”

“tell me it’s true. tell me” 

doggett is standing next to mulder’s bed, where he is hooked up to a machine. a doctor remarks that it is so improbable “i would have said impossible before this” 

doggett must be thinking: damn. wtf. 

and frankly, so am i. bro had no food or water for 3 months. hello?

his tissue and all other systems are in a state of decomposition, the doctor explains. effectively, he’s dead. 

scully is waiting outside, her hands crossed- is she praying? doggett steps out.

she sees doggett. steps closer. says she needs to see mulder. “i know, but i wish you wouldn’t” <- WAUGHHHHHHGGGHHHH

him recognizing her need but wanting to shield her from the pain. yeah.

she slips by him very slowly while skinner stares. she approaches the hospital bed, also very slowly. is that a smile? yes, she’s smiling. touches his arm. feels his chest move up and down. rests her head on his heart. cries into his chest. 

at 5:35 am, kersh summons doggett. i think he’s about to get yelled at. kersh says something about not having seen the sunrise from his office yet. “i believe the sunrise isn't for another hour and six minutes, sir” <- now, why does he know that?

i love that for him. love it when a character knows weird facts.

kersh is being spooky….. “i know you look forward to a future at the FBI, john” <- OHHHH he seems to be making a threat….

he got a call about this mulder thing. he wants him to drop it. “you know the tune: if it looks bad, it’s bad for the FBI” <- HUH??? he wants him to just ignore it??? or leave him to die?? can you imagine that happening after he has spent MONTHS trying to find him? doggett, the loyal one, just walking away??

kersh says he’s throwing him a rope. tells him not to hang himself with it.

uhhhh…. okay. idk what to do with that information.

scully comes back in the hospital room. did she go home at all? wait, different hospital room! is this billy? covered in dead and peeling skin? yes, it is!

but he starts thrashing about! the monitor has a question mark on it! and then he goes back to normal?!! what is that about?? 

a nurse comes in, looks at scully, and asks who tf are you, LMAO. she says she was just looking in and he went into seizure (?) but he’s fine… and then she says she’s a doctor with the FBI. bahaha, awwww. poor thing got caught sneaking about and has to explain herself on the spot. you know she struggles with that!

“the man down the hall was my… is my partner” <- OHHHH, THAT CORRECTION.

she says they knew billy. she hoped there was some indication he was doing better. and then she leaves. but before she does, she says to tell the doctor about the seizure and also check the equipment - it might have malfunctioned. and then she is gone. the nurse is probably so confused, lmao.

skinner is back at the office…. is kersh summoning him??? WTF, he stumbles and falls over?? AUGH!!!! is it his digital disease that krycek controls?? some people pick him up, but like wtf..…

IT IS FUCKING KRYCEK IN THE ELEVATOR, OMFGGGGG THE RAT BASTARD… 

he tells him that he doesn't know how he got in this building, but he can to go to hell, LMAOOOOOO as he should!!!

but then krycek makes the thingy go off again. and skinner’s on the ground grasping his shoulder. so he comes back to krycek. who says it's time to take a ride

krycek is sitting in mulder’s desk, perverting it with his foul presence. says he heard mulder came back from the dead - he’s a regular houdini. he claims he’ll give skinner a chance to save his life. you never want something that simple, devil boy. and skinner tells him as much. 

oh. he says he wants to use his robot tech that is in skinner right now to save mulder? uh... that sounds like he'll just use it to manipulate him the way he is currently with skinner. seems like a terrible idea

“i don’t think his life can be saved” oh :(

and now krycek claims he has a vaccine. mulder's father developed it. “you found him, and you don’t even know what you’ve got”

skinner lunges for the remote. but krycek is quicker. 

man. i really dislike that guy. is he the head of the syndicate now? or is he doing his own thing? maybe a little bit of both? fuck him though, fr.

billy looks nasty and dead. but he opens an eye! and his mouth! takes out his mouth tube! how did they do all that makeup?!

he gets up…. starts to walk… the monitors are going crazy. he’s showering?? AUGH, the dead flesh falling off of him is disgusting, oh my GOD. all the blood in the drain. BLEAUGH, the little THUNKS it makes at it falls off. man, i don’t wanna see that shit. but underneath is… clean skin?

that makeup looked thick and nasty af; shoutout to the makeup team and the dude playing billy for enduring that

doggett comes in to find scully sitting with mulder, one hand holding his and one on her belly. “you can’t do this to yourself” “you asked me not to come in here, agent doggett. i hope you’re not asking me to leave” <- she'll sit there forever...

ohhhh, he set her off. “concern’s for your well-being, agent scully. that’s all it’s ever for” he is worried about her :(

he tells her he was against the idea of digging him up, worried about what effect it might have on her, what mulder’s chances are, and she shoots up.

“agent doggett… however i felt about you when we first met, you changed my opinion with the quality of your character and of your work. now, i am thankful to know you, and i am thankful for your concern… but no matter what mulder’s chances are, the choice not to open up that grave was wrong”

he opens his mouth to say something, but stops. “and not because of me personally, but as my partner on the x files. now the truth may hurt, but it’s all that matters.”

“what truth?”

“about what caused this” 

she must feel frustrated by his concern but the fact he said he was against the idea was Not the best move on his part. BUT! she said she respects him :( and is glad to know him :( and her opinion of him changed :(

at the end of the day, it is all about the Truth... he needs to be initiated into its search...

the nurse comes to fetch scully, saying she has to come quick, it’s billy miles!!! he’s just… standing there…. menacingly!!!

then he turns to look at scully and doggett! all his dead skin seems to be washed away!!! he's totally naked!!!

he says he doesn’t remember much of anything. he's wrapped in a blanket while scully talks to him. he says he remembers water. and being on the ship. “you were found on a fishing boat”, doggett explains. but scully interjects: “that’s not what you mean, is it billy? you mean… a spacecraft”

he says they took so many, but now he understands: they’re here to save us. and he smiles. 

doggett says that’s great news and he’ll let them talk. he walks away.

“agent doggett, where are you going?” ohhh, the girls are fighting!!! “back to the real world. why?”

“you just won’t believe it, will you? not even for a minute. not even with it staring you right in the face”

“is that so important to you? what i believe or don’t believe?” OHHH… “i’m not really up to this assignment anyway, as you so gently put it” <- THAT’S NOT WHAT SHE MEANT AND YOU KNOW THAT… he's sensitive

“i underestimated you, agent doggett. i thought this was just simple resistance to extreme possibilities, when, in fact, you’re just downright bullheaded” <- well, scully, you have done some time in the bullheaded trenches yourself... but i understand her frustration with everything on the line

“do you believe it, agent scully? i mean, that stuff he said about aliens coming to save the world?” this, in fact, shuts her up. 

he leaves. ohhhh, he can be a menace when he wants. 

but he won’t really go to kersh and get reassigned… right?

so she’s marking up prints of brain scans now when in comes skinner. no one told him about billy. she says she’s sorry.

but it’s too incredible. everything about him is normal. it doesn’t make sense. there should be something wrong with him. it’s like he became a new person… and not the same one. 

skinner asks if this could be alien- a virus. does he know something? 

he says there may be a vaccine. “it doesn't come without a price” “this is about saving a man’s life” “yes…. it is”

what…. is krycek going to bargain skinner’s life for mulder’s? i feel like he'll take that deal and then scully will hate him for it...

jump to... somewhere else. doggett is at a prison. visiting absalom! who greets doggett as brother.

“how they treating you?”, he asks. like a prophet, absalom replies.

which is why doggett came: to ask about the prophecies. about the men and women left for dead. “you’re here to receive the word…. and yet you can’t bring yourself to say my name. say it.” 

doggett smiles. “absalom”

(the vibes here were crazyyyy, omg)

i am the resurrection and the life. do you know the words? “they’re from the bible” <- yes, doggett, this is true 👍

(this made me laugh in a way i cannot quite articulate. yeah, they are from the bible! you did it, buddy! he may not know which book, but he knows the source text! i appreciate that he isn't giving this dude an inch, though)

what is the bible? this dude is craaaaazy. doggett wants to know how he healed those people. he needs his help. “you ask for my help… but you refuse to believe in me”

bro, you didn't even heal those people. how are you gonna take credit for it? that's stolen valor.

skinner walks back through the hospital. stops outside a room. peers in. sees mulder hooked up to all those tubes. and krycek stands next to him!!!!!!! “i need the vaccine, alex”. he asks what he has to do. 

“oh, it’s simple, really: make sure scully doesn’t come to term” <- WHAT?????

that is NOT what i thought he would say, omfg…. yeah, he is not doing that shit dawg. can you imagine…? the mere thought is impossible to comprehend.

and how is that SIMPLE? wtf is skinner gonna do to make that happen? is this something krycek has done before and can give him a tutorial on? i don't even WANT to know.

he says she can’t have that baby. WHAT IS IT TO YOU, ALEX?

skinner flatly says no. krycek points out they all have a life in their hands: mulder's is in skinner's hands, skinner's is in krycek's, and scully has the baby. it’s all about who is willing to sacrifice. 

we need to kill that guy. with roach spray.

doggett walks by krycek in the hall, then eyes him suspiciously. he detected his terrible vibes. looks in at skinner. then he sees scully. 

doggett asks where she’s going. “look, i don’t have time to waste debating our differences, agent doggett. i strongly believe that agent mulder is infected with a virus” <- fair enough

now hold on, i’m still comprehending: why the actual fuck does krycek want to keep her from having a baby???????????????

how is skinner gonna tell her that?

anyway. she thinks that this virus he has will keep him alive just long enough for him to transform into an alien.

and doggett replies that he isn’t here to argue. absalom said the same thing would happen: that if he hadn’t resurrected them, they would have come back as aliens and taken over the world.

ohhhh, so that is why the aliens are doing that. i guess that sort of makes sense? idk, they left them mostly for dead though! if they’re dead, how does that help anyone? billy recovered, but gary didn’t. there is very little a dead-dead, actually, fully dead, guy can do to help the alien cause. unless, of course, he was actually still alive somehow, too.....

scully remembers that she saw the two heartbeats on the monitor while billy was having a seizure, but she thought it was a glitch. it must have been an alien taking over...

she is off to get a surgical team and needs to keep mulder's body stabilized to administer the vaccine. the one he asked skinner to get.

doggett is confused af. he is locked out of the room he just saw skinner in. pounds on the door. tells him to open up. the monitor starts to beep.

DOGGETT KICKS DOWN THE DOOR and SKINNER IS TAKING MULDER OFF OF ALL HIS VARIOUS LIFE SUPPORT TUBES!!!

doggett SLAMS him against the wall: “you’re killing him!”

“i had no choice! he wanted me to kill scully’s baby” oh my god. doggett just walked into something extreme.

“where is he?” 

i appreciate that his first reaction isn't even "who" or "why" or "wtf does scully's baby have to do with any of this" and "who would gain anything from killing it", all of which are very good questions. but he simply does not have them time for them. as such, he goes straight to find him on his own. i have immense respect for that.

krycek is waiting in a car in a parking garage. doggett has his gun... but krycek sees him in the mirror on his car door.

krycek BACKS INTO HIM, but doggett gets up and PUNCHES HIM IN THE FACE, telling him to stop the car. he climbs in the window!!! doggett is being whipped around!! krycek knocks him out of the car window!!!!

and krycek speeds away!!! but he comes back!! shows him the vaccine. he's gonna drop it, omg. and he does. it shatters. the liquid spills on the ground. i half wondered if he'd go find a pipette somewhere and try to suck it up.

krycek kinda looks turned on by this whole thing. i'd say "new crack ship just dropped", but i don't even want to give krycek the pleasure of shipping him with anybody. he wipes the blood from his lips. doggett charges, but he zips away. his face covered in bruises.

back in the hospital, skinner asks him for the vaccine. mulder is in the OR. he tells him he wasn’t wrong: krycek wasn’t to be trusted.

he peeks in as the doctors get ready. asks scully if he’ll make it. OH! she says that by keeping him on life support, they were incubating the virus. when skinner pulled him off of life support, his temperature dropped without impacting his vital signs.

WAIT, so she knows skinner tried to kill mulder to save her???? she knows krycek said she can't have her baby? and she is just moving on with surgery??? or was that not explained to her and she thinks skinner just went sicko mode on mulder for no reason?

damn. either way, that’s impressive. i would have broken down. but she has to be working to keep it together.

“you mean skinner saved him?” she nods. 

they’ll give him some antivirals. it might work. 

doggett’s phone rings. he steps out of the operating room. kersh has summoned him. doggett stands before him with his bruised face. tells him he was with scully. “it’s going to be awful crowded down in that x files office”

kersh sits. puts on his glasses. “maybe you didn’t hear me. i said you’re on the wrong floor” “yes sir”

so he’s letting him stay on the x files???? why would he do that???? what is kersh’s motivation???

i have sooooo many questions about this guy.

mulder is back in a hospital bed post-treatment. scully grabs his hand. runs her thumb over it. it jerks. he moves his head. she calls his name. he opens his eyes!

“hi!” she says, sounding so happy. he asks who she is. her face falls. but he smiles. “oh my god. don’t do that to me!” she laughs, and tears pour down her face.

she asks if he knows what he’s been through. “only what i see in your face” (OUGHHHHH, that is arguably the most painful response. he can tell she is Suffering Immensely)

she brushes his hair. sets her head on his chest. “anybody miss me?” she laughs. 

doggett starts to come in, but he sees scully crying into mulder. he looks like he’s seen something he isn’t supposed to. and walks away.

AHHHHH (rips my shirt off in grief)

the end.

presses rewind.

doggett…………… 

i need to go lay down.

this episode was CRAZY. we need to hunt alex krycek DOWN. what the fuck does he want with her baby? what kind of SICK FUCK?! i mean, i knew he was sick, but that is supervillain evil shit. i will NEVER hear y’all out about that man again. he wanted HER BABY DEAD??????

so skinner said fuck that and was gonna KILL MULDER!!!!! he said ABSOLUTELY NOT!!!! ripped all those life support tubes out himself!!!! if someone had to die, he knew who it would be. which is... wow. scully always comes first.

and doggett coming to stop him, KICKING THAT DOOR DOWN, WHEW. i'll say it: it was kinda hot.

but poor skinner explained why he was doing it, and even though everything he was saying sounded like the ramblings of a madman, doggett said okay. i’ll go kill him myself. unfortunately, krycek is a slippery weasel and cannot be killed through normal means. he’s gonna have to die by solving some sort of riddle or a prophecy technicality.

okay, some favorite parts of this episode:

doggett arguing to skinner that he shouldn’t tell scully because it’ll be too hard on her, because he WORRIES ABOUT HER

scully coming in at the hospital and slamming her hands into skinner's chest because she needs to see him. he says she can’t, and sends doggett in instead. she tells him she needs to see him, and doggett says he knows... he just wishes she wouldn’t. because he recognizes that no matter how much he worries over her or sees himself in her grief, he can't control her

when scully shows up to work and doggett asks how she is feeling ☹️☹️☹️☹️ that man is uncle material

and then he says he plans on staying on the x files because if he doesn’t they’ll close them down ☹️☹️ which scully says is foolish because he'll be throwing his career away 💔💔 how far would his loyalty and sense of duty to her extend when his future is on the line? does he miss life before all of this? does he know there is no life after?

i didn’t like their fight, but it was thematically interesting. her calling him bullheaded; him saying he’ll leave like she told him too… it all makes so much more sense now in the context of losing his son. having a new skeptic on the block is frustrating, but positioning it within the context of his grief makes it a lot more interesting. i guess i wish they had revealed that a little earlier. without that context he kinda just comes off as a hater, lmao.

and then he sees mulder and scully at the end, reunited, and it is like he walked into something he shouldn’t have seen, so he just… walks away.

Mulder and Scully. Scully and Mulder. back together. after he has heard so much about them. after they have ascended to myth. their reunion has very strange implications for him. i wonder if he'll feel he can leave now if they're both back, or if he'll feel like he has to stay because he is invested and loyal to scully, and maybe if he stays on, kersh won't shut them down, since he is kersh's golden boy...

scully telling him she appreciates him and is glad to know him, but also telling him off because they need to find The Truth, whatever that may be, because it is the only thing that matters… it hurt my heart.

i still cannot fucking believe krycek said “kill her baby” to SKINNER, like what the FUCK??????? and i assume she knows that because she knew he ripped out all of mulder’s medical equipment??? how is she going to react to that when there is time to process it?

and mulder being a little BASTARD and asking who she was, LMAOOOOO, oh her poor face… but she she starts to laugh and rests her head on his chest…. 

and god, at the beginning, when she said the saddest thing was that he never got answers… maybe now they can get answers. and how she collapsed into skinner, like her body just couldn't stay upright any longer……….. fuck.

maybe now he won't be the last one. maybe now they can start over. and start a family.

so doggett is allowed to stay on the x files. but for what purpose? what cards is kersh holding? i assumed he was in line with krycek somehow… is he hoping to keep him on as some sort of a spy, like scully originally was? or is he actually a decent guy deep down and we’re just now seeing that?

i don’t even want to try and unpack the alien lore, because it doesn’t make sense. they test on the bodies and then drop them nearly dead. and then jeremiah heals the ones he can for… what purpose? out of guilt? or is he actually aiding the alien mission? no, that can’t be it, because they took him back… unless that was also a cover story.

but gary died, so why did billy live? because he was dropped in the ocean? then why wouldn’t they drop everyone in the ocean? because why would some of them live and get better through the power of the virus and some of them just die? it doesn’t make sense to me… unless, of course, gary is also alive, just buried in a coffin somewhere and waiting to be dug up... but if they just leave him there what will happen?

doggett seeing scully and mulder reunited and knowing that he will never be reunited with his son. yeah. that’s fucked up. 

wow. my brain…

the roadtrip with skinner and doggett where doggett tells his boss over and over again he is insane for digging up their dead coworker... i wonder what doggett was thinking in that moment.

i mean, we do kinda need a straight man (in the comedy sense - i don’t claim to speak for doggett’s orientation) in these sorts of things, which scully served the role of for a while (although she had her moments of making everything crazier, which i love about her!!!).

we need a guy to look at the camera and be like “isn’t this plot fucked up? we’re catching dracula and also robbing graves. that’s fucked up” to ground us, the non-supernatural audience. so now that scully is more open to extreme possibilities… maybe that will be his role.

i can’t wait to see how he gets along with mulder, omg, or if he’ll feel terribly left out as some sort of third wheel… or will there be some awkward dance as the rhythm scully and doggett got into is disrupted… will they even like each other?!

oh my god, mulder’s gonna be so sad when he learns she is pregnant and he wasn’t there for the majority of it, but also he is just going to be GAGGED in general.

that is going to be an interesting conversation because… he is still mostly pretty dead at the moment and probably not very observant, but the minute she stands up he’s gonna realize and be like hey. scully. wtf.

and then she’s gonna have to explain that it might actually be an alien, and also krycek wants to kill her. and it’s been really hard in the normal ways that these things are hard as well, with normal non-slug related complications and her grief and being alone. he’s gonna feel all guilty for being dead and not being there for her, and it’ll probably take them some time to get back in a rhythm, and also now doggett is here… 

what about reyes? where was she today? will she come back? what for? i want to see her more often!! let me see her with mulder, too

and now he will be an x file, omg…

i feel like doggett will be really weirded out being the metaphorical third in this and like he might end up leaving, but idk… maybe i’m all wrong. he’s sensitive!!!!

i want to know what happened in those 3 months. so yeah, full disclosure, i did know this was going to happen and that there is the three month time skip WHICH i found out while looking at the fics by my fave txt author and accidentally coming across a blurb for a fic that explores this exact premise.

but the good news is i already know that person wrote a fic on the exact thing i want to read, which means tomorrow there is plenty to look forward to.

fuck. can’t believe we have to deal with krycek again and scully is in danger. maybe they can run away and live in a cabin in the woods and be happy. well, maybe not THE WOODS, as in an actual cabin and hunting moose and stuff... but maybe some sort of rural area. somewhere quiet. without aliens. where scully can be a doctor and mulder can get a PhD and teach at a local community college, or a masters and go into practice, or whatever it is that mulders do in an alternate reality where things are safer. although, i somehow think the aliens and ghouls will continue to find them forever. they have an aura the aliens love. and raise a spooky little kid.

i told you, i’m brainstorming the “they all lived happily-ish ever after” au. i’m serious about it… if i could draw, i already know what i would be drawing. but i can't. so here we are. me, stuck imagining things in my head.

oh man, i just realized we didn't get to see the skinner and mulder reunion... i CANNOT WAIT for that. it'll be so charged. ahhh!

as always, i ask that you please tell me EVERYTHING about your initial reaction to seeing this!!!!!!! where did you cry/scream/yell the most? whose arc made you the most emo? did you have a feeling he was coming back? did you also want to beat krycek with a brick? share it all! i love hearing your reactions!!! it makes me so happy!!!

[crazysandwich]

Tony Stark’s Legacy Isn’t Up for Debate

Okay, I need to talk about Tony Stark because I need to get this off my chest. Fair warning, this might be a bit controversial.

Disclaimer: I haven’t watched Ironheart yet, and I know I’m reacting to a single line taken out of context. Also, no spoilers in this post aside from that one line I’ll be talking about. So if you haven’t seen Ironheart yet either, don’t worry. I’m not going into anything else from the show. But these are just the thoughts that came to me after hearing it. I’ve seen a lot of clips on TikTok around the line, “Do you think Tony Stark would be Tony Stark if he wasn’t a billionaire?” and honestly, my issue here is mostly with the writing. Not with Ironheart as a character. Again, I haven’t seen the full series so I’m not judging her. But this isn’t the first time I’ve noticed this pattern.

There are a lot of great characters in the MCU with so much potential for good storytelling. But can we stop diminishing the impact that the original characters had? Specifically, Tony Stark, in this case. Let’s be real. He was a big deal. Huge. And we shouldn’t forget that. Move forward, yes. Create new stories, yes. But don’t erase what came before.

Lately, it feels like some writers are trying to push Tony into the background or treat him like a secondary figure. That just doesn’t sit right with me. You can’t rewrite the fact that he had one of the most significant character arcs in the MCU. Fans remember his story, his growth, his sacrifices, every iconic line.

And let’s not forget, Tony Stark’s entire arc was about proving he was more than just a billionaire. Yes, that was part of his identity, but it wasn’t the full story. Over ten years and multiple films, he showed again and again that he was willing to put others before himself, that he could grow, take responsibility, and make real sacrifices. That was the core of his character growth. From a self-centered weapons manufacturer to someone who snapped his fingers to save the universe. He didn’t just coast on his wealth. He evolved. That’s why people connected with him. That’s why it hurts to see that reduced to just "billionaire" as if that was all he ever was.

We literally turned “Tony Stark was able to build this in a cave! With a box of scraps!” into a cult quote. It was so iconic that it even got referenced again in a Spider-Man movie. Did the writers, producers, or anyone at Marvel forget how big of an impact that had? Why are they trying to downplay him now? It comes off as disrespectful.

Again, no hate to Ironheart. I’m excited to watch the series, and I’ll go in with an open mind. But this weird energy around dismissing Tony Stark needs to stop.

It’s not even just this show. I remember The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (which I loved, by the way, one of my favorites), and there was that part early on where it’s revealed the Avengers weren’t on a traditional salary, despite Tony’s financial support. And I get it, it’s part of the plot, but come on. He literally funded their headquarters, tech, suits, operations, and probably their living expenses too. The man gave them two whole buildings. What more was he supposed to do, run payroll on top of all that?

Yes, a formal salary would have been nice, but let’s not act like he left everyone high and dry. It feels like the writers are using him as an easy target lately, and I don’t get it.

Anyway, this turned into a full-on rant, haha. I just had to share these thoughts. Not sure if anyone else feels the same. Once again, no hate to Ironheart, I believe she has a lot of potential, and I have high hopes for the series. Just please stop disrespecting the OGs. If you want to create better and newer characters, do it. But don’t erase the ones who built the foundation.

[the-heron]

*putting on a moustache and sunglasses*

So like what’s the deal with ghosted what’s that about

now see the deal with Ghosted is that it's not what happens within the events of the film that captivates me so much, though don't get me wrong i love this film to bits, but rather, it's the idea of what happens after the whole thing that makes me FUCKING NUTS

because the whole thing is relatively cut and dry in the sense that we don't have to guess about what happened before and we don't have to guess about how everybody is feeling in the present. we know (MOST) important characters backgrounds and what they're doing at Falkhill and slowly revealing Paul's context was pretty interesting if not a little abrupt at the end there but its the very last scene of this film down to the very frame that flips the whole hour and a half you just watched over on its head and prevents me from getting a good night's sleep because i can't stop thinking about it

ELABORATING WITH A LOT OF SPOILERS UNDER THIS

explaining the plot of this movie is hard without sounding like im writing a pretentious review and not just talking out of my ass on tumblr but for my followers who haven't watched this movie and dont care enough to: Ghosted (2011) is set in a british prison in which Jack (John Lynch) is a long time prisoner who's wife just dumped him apparently on the anniversary of their sons death (tough break) and is being advised by his friend and cellmate Ahmed (Art Malik) (who does NOT get HALF as much screen-time or plot relevance as he DESERVES,) to find something to put his mind to and be proud of outside of his failures Paul (Martin Compston) is a prisoner who was just transferred out of a Young Offenders prison AS FAR AS WE'RE TOLD... though its noticeable from the beginning that hes not a very good liar and his story is suspicious at best Clay (Craig Parkinson) is kindof The Guy of their prison wing whos dealing drugs to other prisoners and assumes the position of authority over everybody else, though compared to other inmates with bigger cliques, his foundations are shaky. the description of this film on letterboxd calls him "the wing beast" and i have never cried laughing so hard reading something in my life

Clay and Jack both hone in on Paul immediately for different reasons. Jack, after his pep talk with Ahmed, sees Paul as a source of "a little self belief, something to be proud of", but Clay scoops him under his wing for being relatively young and impressionable. This puts Jack and Clay at odds with each other. after some plot, Paul gets into very big trouble with Clay and after An Incident is promptly plopped into Jacks hands, who had requested Paul move into his cell earlier but didn't have a good enough excuse for it. Well You've Got A Bloody Good Reason Now ect ect

Jack and Paul buddy up immediately and its noticable that Paul is sort of filling in the empty space where a son would be for Jack, however we discover that Paul has been lying about his past to everybody, including Jack. he lied about his family and he lied about having only just been transferred from Y.O. and hadn't been telling the whole truth about his sentence. what the truth ends up being, in a nutshell, is that Paul is accidentally responsible for the death of Jack's son, having been the one who started the house fire he died in (we were never even told that Jack's son died in a house fire before this, we are only told this in Paul's flashback at the end of the movie and are supposed to act, like, surprised?? whatever). consequentially, Jack flips his lid and prompts my personal favorite scene in this film in which he beats the living shit out of Paul with his bare hands and immediately regrets it the second the adrenaline wears off, hitting an alarm button within the cell that alerts the guards.

the guards whisk him away and he is put in solitary confinement, which we find out was actually the first sequence of the film where hes shown with an absurdly long beard, and considering every other fucking scene he's in is of him shaving his face, i assume this is to show just how long he's been kept in solitary confinement, which quite honestly was kindof exciting to realize at the end of the film.

and then. the end scene.

after solitary, Jack is put in cuffs and brought to see Paul who looked Extremely Dead after Jack had him, but hes not dead! just almost dead. Jack is sat next to him and tries to apologize but starts to cry, reaching out a hand to hold Paul's but retracting it regretfully. Paul, having looked unconscious not five seconds before, moves his hand to place it over Jack's...

and then the movie ends. and i am left writhing on my floor in anguish BUT NOT BEFORE I EXPLAIN TO YOU THAT THIS

THIS is what the deal is with Ghosted

the pathetic gestures of "im sorry" and "its okay" are what kill me. sorry is nowhere near enough to justify anything that EITHER of them did, NOR should they be forgiven. AND YET.

and what gets my gears going is the thought of what everything looks like AFTER this scene. after they've bonded so close and after Jack already thought that Paul stopped lying to him, thinking that he could protect Paul from Clay now... after they started to fill the spaces for people they were missing in their lives... and after they've RUINED each others lives. They Have Ruined Each Others Lives and yet Paul probably would have had to DELIBERATELY ASK for them to bring Jack to see him because he just BEAT Paul within an INCH of his life and would NOT !! have brought Jack to see him upon Jack's own request!! Paul would have wanted to see him too!! after all this what does their relationship look like now... the image of father and son has been all but shattered in each other's eyes, one can assume, but are they still close... does the guilt and responsibility drift them apart or does it pull them inseparably together? Ahmed tells Jack that "there is no such thing as coincidence, only fate" but what does their fate look like... does it end here or does it mean that they're together indefinitely? the end of this film swings the door wide open and i think about it. way too often. unacceptably often, even.

all in all theres no reason that this should be my favorite film but it is. if nothing else it's made me look into the other actors involved and branch out with a to-watch list as long as my arm that will only get longer once i branch out from there. is it the perfect movie? no this film is mediocre at best. have i made a number of my friends sit down and watch it and listen to me yell incoherently about it? of course i have.

[bizarrelovetriangel]

company.

they're busy with something so you decided to give them some company, along with a little motivation to finish faster.

mdni. 18+ only. cockwarming. that's it that's the plot.

- sylus -

He has a new fancy toy that he'd won from an auction, and now you have a rival that you must fight for his attention. At the moment, you're absolutely not winning.

Sylus is polishing a gun while admiring every aspect of it, his eyes practically twinkling with excitement.

You're starting to get impatient and maybe just a little jealous. After all, he promised you that you'd watch a movie together once he's done.

It wouldn't hurt to give him some... encouragement to hurry up, right?

and so, you sat on his lap.

"What are you doing?"

Sylus questions you despite doing absolutely nothing to stop you from taking a seat on his thighs. In fact, he welcomed you by opening his arms wider just so you could have more space to be more comfortable.

"Nothing, just wanna watch you assemble~"

He took note of your tone and immediately grew suspicious. "What are you scheming, kitten?"

"Nothing, I said." you grabbed his chin and gently nudged his face so that his gaze returns to the disassembled gun on the desk in front of him. "Don't let me distract you. Just pretend I'm not here."

He narrowed his eyes at you for a second before continuing his work, humming a song and bopping his head while doing so.

You smiled as you listened to him, beaming his reflection on the shiny silver gun.

You leaned forward closer to the surface of the desk so that you could get a better look at the details of the weapon that he's so infatuated with.

You shifted your weight a little to the left so you could study the complex engravings at a better angle.

After moving around to observe the other angles, you realized that it's most likely part of a vintage collection. Its charm is indeed worth all the money that Sylus casually spent it on.

"...Enjoying yourself, sweetie?"

For a moment, you'd forgotten why you were there in the first place. It wasn't until you heard a grunt from behind you that you were reminded of your little evil plan.

"I am, actually."

As you replied, you subtly pressed down your ass against his crotch, earning a sharp breath out of him.

Sylus paused on polishing his weapon.

"What's wrong?" you asked, feigning innocence. "You still have a lot of parts to polish. Hurry up already."

"If you need something from me, don't hesitate to ask." he tells you in a low voice, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "I'd gladly give you want you want."

"No no, it's fine. You should finish what you started. You said you want to use it tomorrow, right?" you waved a hand dismissively. "I want to watch you polish and assemble this. Like I said, just pretend I'm not here."

Sylus shook his head, already catching on to your grand plan.

But he's absolutely not complaining.

You sitting on his lap while he fiddles with his new weapon? It's certainly not the worst thing in the world. He doesn't mind multitasking.

Taking advantage of your gracious offer, Sylus proceeds with his work.

You continued to grind against him, doing your best to be subtle.

It wasn't long until your seat becomes uncomfortable due to a stiffened bulge in his pants.

His warm, ragged breath hits your neck as he takes a moment to collect himself, hands slightly wavering as he puts down his tools before reaching for you.

One hand settled on your stomach while the other caressed your right thigh. As you leaned back against his chest, you were surpised as he captured your lips with his.

Your right hand went up to his jaw to keep him in place as you kissed him back with twice the force, inviting him to meet your tongue.

He groans inside your mouth as your ass once again brushed against his clothed cock, twitching and demanding for your attention — so you give him what he wants.

You unzip his pants and stroke him through his boxers, emitting a moan out of his parted lips. Sylus pulled away from you and rested his forehead against your own, briefly brushing his nose against yours.

"Should we take this somewhere else?"

His eyes caught the grin that appeared on your face and he just knew no good would come out of your pretty mouth.

"But you still have to finish fixing your gun. Just....keep going..." you pressed a soft kiss underneath his jaw. "I'll...keep you company."

Sylus knew exactly what you meant when your hand tightly wrapped around his cock, now leaking with desire for you.

As if in a trance, he watched you pull down your shorts up to your knees and moved your panty aside before brushing his cock against your folds.

His hold on your thigh had become tighter as soon as you fully took him inside you once you sat back down on his lap. Sylus closed his eyes and lightly nipped your shoulder to suppress a groan out of pleasure.

Even though this feels like some sort of punishment, he'll be lying if he says he's not enjoying it. As long as it's you, he'll gladly do anything you want and take anything that you offer.

Returning your grin, Sylus redirected his focus on his weapon. If he wants to move in the bedroom and properly take you, he has to work faster.

But it was a lot more difficult than he realized.

Sylus can't help but thrust into you as he became desperate for friction.

You're squeezing him so tightly.

He needed to move so badly.

"Sweetie...." beads of sweat appeared on his forehead and neck. "Are you sure you're comfortable here? Wouldn't you want to move somewhere else?"

"I'm fine."

Of course you aren't fine.

You're just as impatient as him, and it's taking all of your energy to appear nonchalant just like he is. You've become so wet that you're oozing out even with his cock in you.

But you really did want him to finish polishing his gun now so that you can have the rest of his time.

"Just hurry up already."

Sylus almost laughed at how whiny yet demanding you sounded just now. He would've teased you if only he wasn't just as needy.

All he could do was nod and rush his work, while simultaneously making sure the quality of his weapon is sufficient.

After polishing every piece, Sylus expertly put everything together. He might've slowed down once or twice as you'd clench his cock and his vision would blur as he'd lose his focus, but he managed to power through until the end.

And once you finally made it to his bedroom, Sylus' patience ran out as soon as the door was shut and locked.

He gently nudges you against the door and kisses you deeply while his hands caresses your body. He unbuttons and unzips his pants before pulling it down along with his boxers to reveal his reddened cock that's even bigger and harder now than before.

You eagerly got rid of your shorts and underwear. Before you could remove your shirt, Sylus latched back into you, spreading your legs and wrapping your thighs around his hips before thrusting back and forth.

Noticing the loud noises that the door would make as he pounds into you, he took a few steps back from it before bouncing you up and down his cock.

You cry out with pleasure, throwing your head back as he hits the deepest part of you, over and over again, making your insides clench and pulsate.

He lightly sinks his teeth into the nape of your neck as he reaches his climax, with heavy cum spilling out of you and staining the floor.

Your own release followed a few seconds later, soaking his thighs as he brings you over to his bed. He positions himself between your legs, aligning his mouth in the middle of your thighs.

"Since you were so thoughtful in giving me company while I worked...." he pauses to playfully flick your forehead. "I'm yours for the rest of the night."

- zayne -

Poor Docctor Zayne is stuck in his home office, finishing up a report for his latest research project.

You also have a report to do for the Association, so you decided to join him just so he could have company. After all, you haven't seen each other for two days now.

"Zayne, I got you some snacks."

As you arrived, you set some food and drink on a separate table specifically used for snack breaks.

Zayne's eyes lights up as soon as you walked in. He grabbed your hand and pulled you down so that he could give you a kiss on the lips.

"Is it okay if I join you here? I also have work to do." Being around Zayne might motivate you to finish faster, or at least procrastinate less than you usually do.

"Of course."

It's not the first time you worked with him in his office, so there's an extra chair just for you to use; however, Zayne realized just now how far away it is from him.

It's placed behind his other desk that he rarely uses, perpendicular from the one he's currently using.

Not even five minutes after you started typing, Zayne called out your name.

"Why are you sitting so far away? Scared I'll look at your screen? I promise I won't copy from you."

You laughed and scooted your chair next to his. "I don't mind letting you copy from me, Doctor Zayne."

Soon, the two of you fell in a comfortable silence except for the sounds of your fingers clicking against the keyboard, as well as the pages of Zayne's books being turned occasionally.

Sometimes, you'd mumble something as you're typing, and Zayne would smile in amusement, fond of the way you're fully immersed in your work.

After a decent amount of time has passed, you cheer as you concluded your report. "All I have to do is edit it for the final draft!" you got up to stretch and stopped in front of Zayne. "What about you? Still have a lot to do?"

"I'm almost done as well. Just reviewing a reference before I get to my last page."

Zayne pauses from his work as he noticed how close you are.

He rested his hands on your waist, urging you to face him. "Why don't you move a little closer?"

"Huh? But my chair's already right next to yours—"

He then gently nudged you forward and adjusted your legs so that you're sitting on his lap and facing the computer.

"Let's just stay like this for a while."

You softened as Zayne embraced you from behind and rested his chin on your shoulder. He took your laptop and placed it right next to his so that you two can continue your work.

You suppressed a smile, realizing that he wants cuddles.

You'll never deny cuddles from him.

"Okay!"

About halfway through editing your report, you realizes that there was something hard growing behind you.

"Zayne..."

You look over your shoulder and spotted his flushed expression, with his red ears being the biggest giveaway.

"...sorry, I was just — "

He couldn't help himself.

Having you so close...

His mind started to wander not long after you sat on him. Images of the last time you were on his thighs flashed through his head, and his body reacted immediately.

"No need to apologize."

You run a hand down from his chest and down to his crotch. Zayne closed his eyes and sighs softly as you palm him through his pants.

Then, your hands come to a halt and he gives you a concerned, questioning look.

"You still need to finish your work."

He chuckles and shakes his head. "You're right. Can't get distracted..."

You grinned at the disappointment that briefly flashed through his eyes. "I'll just... make you feel good while you work, so stay focused, okay?"

"Wha — nggnnh!" Zayne's reply gets cut off by his own moan as you grind your ass against his cock. His chest pressed against your back and his hands darted to your thighs, encouraging you to keep going.

His fingers made their way to the zipper of your pants, silently asking for your permission. In return, you held his hand and assisted him in pulling your zipper down and undoing the button right above it.

You lifted your hips so that he could pull your pants down before unzipping his own pants to free his cock from his boxers.

Kissing his lips, you moved his hands back on the desk before slowly sinking down on him, his cock nestled deep inside you.

Zayne groans at the tightness that enveloped him. His forehead rests on your back while he takes a second to steady his breath.

"Zayne..." you moved his hands towards his keyboard. "Keep working, you're almost done~"

He narrowed his eyes at your sly grin. "You..."

You only patted his cheeks in response before putting your attention to your own laptop to continue editing your work.

You heard a defeated sigh before Zayne continued with his research paper.

You made sure to move your hips every once in a while, drawing out moans and sharp breaths out of him. You enjoyed the way his hands would freeze every time you grind yourself against his cock, which would then twitch in response.

Only after a few minutes, Zayne's typing increased speed. You're impressed with the way he never mispelled a single word.

His focus intensified by a tenfold.

Not once did his hips move.

Not until he was fully done with the report.

Only after he closed his laptop did he touch you.

He stood up and put you down on he desk after moving everything aside.

"Now that I've finished my work early, don't you think I deserve a reward?" he asked, running a hand from your knee to your thigh.

You smiled and pulled him closer, clutching the collars of his shirt. "Of course. Anything you want."

"In that case..."

His mouth devours yours and he parted your legs wider before standing between them. He stroke his cock a few times, spreading his pre-cum on the rest of his length before aligning his tip with your core.

Before pushing himself in you, Zayne rubbed the tip of his cock against your clit, causing you to mewl against his tongue.

Zayne didn't waste much time after gently easing into you. His hips began to move back and forth while his hands grips your waist, making sure your body doesn't get pushed back from how hard he was thrusting.

Your hands are pressing down on his shoulders, eyes on his chest that you exposed after partly unbuttoning his shirt.

You fixed his the glasses that threatened to fall from his face before his lips dove to your neck to leave a trail of hot, wet kisses on your skin.

His pace picks up by the minute as he grows desperate for release. Sweat drips from his forehead and neck as his movement loses control. You were gasping for air as he thrusted harder, knocking down a few trinkets on his desk.

Zayne suddenly pulls out right before ropes of cum splashes you in the chest. His hand rubs his sensitive cock as he continues to empty himself out, hips stuttering while he grunts loudly, unable to hold himself back, especially when your own climax came not too long after.

As the two of you took a moment to catch your breath, Zayne took your hands and gave your knuckles a soft kiss.

"That was... quite a special way to encourage me to finish my work faster, although I can't say it wasn't effective. I'll make sure to remember your technique so I can do the same to you next time."

"...what did you say?!"

Zayne smiled and pecked your forehead. "Shall we go take a shower before dinner?"

- caleb -

Usually, he'd drop whatever he's doing and give you his undivided attention — but not today. In his living room, Caleb is assembling a complex model for a newly designed plane.

It's not like you had any plans in particular, so you didn't mind. You're quite intrigued with the way he's so focused on putting the figure together.

The tiny pieces give satisfying clicks as Caleb attaches them together, all while his eyes are narrowed and brows are furrowed. You always love at his concentration face.

Though, you've broken his concentration for a second as he briefly paused to face you. "Bored, Pip-squeak?"

"Not really. I like watching you build your little plane."

Caleb laughs as he's reminded of the past. You always did have a habit of observing him whenever he's building something, whether it be legos or school projects.

"Why don't you come over here and help me with it? Once we're finished, we can go to the park and have that basketball shooting challenge that you insist we have. Then, we can go eat after. Deal?"

You grinned and sat next to him, kneeling down on the floor and facing the center table. "Deal."

"Not there."

Caleb wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you right on his lap.

"Here is better."

The way his lips brushed against your ear as he whispered caused your face to heat up but you kept your gaze on the figure.

"Wait, you've been doing this with no instructions?!" you looked around the table and saw that there's a folded paper still inside the box that the pieces of this figure came from.

"Oh, I forgot about the instructions." Caleb uses his evol to summon the paper and place it in front of you. "That would make this waaay easier. Good idea, Pip-squeak."

"Hmph. Assembling this thing without instructions.... what a show-off."

Caleb chuckles. "I'm used to building plane models, that's all. Even though this one has a different design, the base is still pretty much the same."

"Show-off."

You moved your hips a little so that you could be more comfortable as you start to lock in for the project.

You're not a genius like Caleb, but at the very least, you can assemble pieces of a spaceship. It's just like playing with legos, but for adults. How hard could it be?

Three minutes later...

"This looks just like that other piece!"

"That one goes to the left wing. It's three millimeters smaller than the other one, which goes on here instead."

Caleb leans forward, chest pressing against your back so that he could help you with the pieces that you were getting confused with.

"Tch. Show-off."

Five minutes later, you're getting the hang of it. Of course, you're following every step of the instructions, while Caleb continued to assemble without it.

Although, just now, his hands suddenly froze just as he picked up a piece for the plane's tail.

At last, you caught him struggling.

"Heh. Does the genius need instructions now?"

You smirked as you looked over your shoulder, only to see his face flush and forehead slightly sweating. His lips are parted apart, taking quiet deep breaths, and his eyes have darkened as his pupils dilate.

"Caleb? Are you — "

"Ngggnnhh... don't... move..."

"What? Why?"

Twitch.

You got a respond not from his mouth, but from another part of his body down below, right where you're sitting.

"Oh."

Caleb embraces you and buries his face against your neck while he slowly moves his hip upwards, desperate for friction.

You grind back to him and reached a hand back to feel his hardened cock through his sweatpants. He lets out a quiet whine and slides his fingers to your thighs, sneaking up your soft skirt.

As he whispers your name, Caleb's finger toys with the fabric of your panty that's covering your core, making your insides clench with arousal.

You kissed him softly while he pulls down your underwear, hiding it in his pocket rather than letting it fall to the carpet.

You then take a moment to tug on the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers. Caleb lifts up his hips so you could remove them, though he gave you a questioning glance when he noticed that you didn't fully get rid of them.

"Caleb..."

You slowly caressed his face and gave him another kiss before taking his cock and sinking down on him.

Moaning against your lips, he didn't waste a second before thrusting up, sliding in and out of you while holding onto your hips.

"Wa — ah, wait, Caleb..."

He stops immediately. "What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

"No, no not at all". you gave him a reassuring smile, which soon turned into a grin that had him gulping nervously. "I was just gonna say... we should finish assembling your plane first."

"What...?" he looks at you with disbelief. "But..." his cock twitched once again, reminding you of his current state. "You..... are doing this on purpose...." he spoke slowly, breath hitching as he tries to restrain himself from rutting into you. "Teasing me like this...."

"I don't know what you mean. I just want you to finish your super cool model."

He detected the playfulness in your tone. "Just wait till I'm done..." he warns in a deep tone before his hand goes back to the separate pieces of the model.

He grunts under his breath as he feels you clenching on his cock, which was growing while buried in you.

"You're not... making this easy... at all..."

He's using up all his strength to not move, meanwhile you're torturing him by shifting ever so slightly once every few minutes.

You bite the inside of your cheek to suppress a grin as you watch Caleb mess up a few times, mind clearly frazzled.

"You can do it~" you cheered with encouragement, wrapping one arm around his neck.

Caleb lets out a shaky exhale as you once again rock against his thighs. "I thought you were supposed to be helping me so we could finish faster, Pip-squeak?"

"I'll let you take over and do the easier stuff. I'm... busy."

He lets out a noise that was a mixture of a chuckle and a scoff, something that you hear often whenever you're teasing him.

Caleb continues to mess up a few more times as he hurriedly puts the pieces of the plane model together.

But once he puts the final piece, he lets out a sigh of relief. "Done."

You patted his head. "Good boy."

Not a second later after your praise, you felt his cock twitch again.

Caleb re-adjusted your figure and urged you to turn around and face him, all while remaining on his lap.

"So, do I get my reward now?"

"And what does my genius pilot want as a reward?"

He wrapped his arms around your back and held you close. The bridge of his nose brush against yours as his lips hovered on your own. "Just you."

You closed the distance between your mouths and let your tongue collide with his while your hips began to move in circles.

"Ah — slow down.... I'm gonna — "

Caleb ended up coming quicker than usual, shooting all of his cum inside you.

He was already close to exploding just having you sit on his cock, so as soon as you started to move, his body couldn't take it.

But he's not done with you yet.

Caleb carried you over to the couch and got on top of you before getting rid of the rest of his clothes. He stroke himself while gazing at you, cock stiffening again.

Without giving himself much time to recover, he entered you and pounded hard. His hands slipped inside your shirt to pull it up and remove it off you, then he unclasped your bra and slid it to the floor before putting your left breast in hie mouth.

His tongue flicks against your nipple before giving the same attention to your right breast, groaning against your mounds as a wave of ecstasy struck him, causing him to pick up his pace in going in and out of you.

Your body arches as the tip of his cock hits the deepest part of you. Hissing with pleasure, your hips stutter and your legs tightened around his hips right before reaching your climax.

Caleb didn't dare to slow down.

He's close.

So close.

Just a little more...

You shut your eyes and gasped for air, feeling as if you're drowning as he hammers into you. As your cunt tightened even more, Caleb pulls out and his orgasm splatters all over your stomach, crying out with pleasure.

Caleb's face drops down to your chest and listens to your fast beating heart as the two of you catch your breaths. His body relaxes on top of yours, and you enjoy the feeling of his weight pressing down on you.

Your left hand brushes through his hair on the back of his head.

"Wait, are we still gonna play basketball?"

Caleb laughs at your sudden question. "As long as you don't use any.....unfair techniques again.... then yes, I still plan to beat you in basketball. Need to remind you that I'm still the best Forward."

"Heh. Show-off."

- rafayel -

Rafayel pouts as he's forced to finish a painting that he promised Thomas would be done over the weekend.

It's not that he dislikes the painting, it's more so that Rafayel prefers to take his time, as he loves taking breaks in between work. This time, however, he realized that there's not much room for breaks if he wants to finish by the deadline.

Luckily, he has his beloved to keep him company and make the work more tolerable.

It doesn't matter what you're doing. Rafayel is just happy that you're there with him.

Whenever you ramble about random things, he listens and asks for more details.

Every time you sing a song while cleaning around his space, he enthusiastically sings along with you while tapping his toes.

When you watch him work, he tells you all about what he's doing; why he chose those specific colors, and why his brush moved in a certain way.

Just now, you're arriving from work with snacks to share, knowing that he most likely hasn't eaten lunch yet. You managed to convince him to take just a few minutes off so he could eat properly — or else, he'll pass out and his painting would absolutely not be done on time, you told him.

Once he's finished eating, you walked him back to his working station before announcing that you'll be gone for a bit to wash the dishes.

You took no further than a single step before arms wrapped around your waist and you're embraced from behind, with Rafayel nuzzling his face on your lower back.

"The dishes will be fine on their own for now. Me, on the other hand... I might need to be supervised. Or else...."

"Or else what?"

"Or else..... I'll be kidnapped by seagulls."

You laughed at his excuse, failing to resist cupping his face. "That's true, they would want to steal a lonely delicious fishie in distress. I better stick around and keep them away."

Rafayel beams and pulls you onto the stool chair with him.

"Wha — Rafayel! This chair's not big enough for both of us!"

"I know, cutie."

Rafayel sat you right on his lap.

"Much better."

"You won't be able to paint properly like this!"

"Oh yeah?" Rafayel grins and twirls the paintbrush he held between the fingers of his right hand. "Challenge accepted! I'll give you a masterpiece! Just you wait!"

You were getting ready to let out the most dramatic and obnoxious laugh as soon as you see him looking silly and struggling to move, but you never got your chance.

Somehow, he still managed to look elegant while painting with you in his way. One hand working, and the other is resting on your left knee.

He truly is a man of many talents.

Since you're there, you might as well enjoy the show. You always find it satisfying and relaxing to watch Rafayel work.

Every graceful stroke of his brush and the way colors smoothly blend together on his canvas is something that you could watch for hours.

You were so entranced that you ended up in a daze not a few minutes later.

You only snapped out of it when you heard a moan from behind you.

Before you could turn your head, Rafayel's hand on your knee moved up to your thigh and his grip on his paintbrush tightened.

"You're not....distracting me on purpose, are you?" his warm breath tickled your neck as his lips brushed against your ear.

You were confused for a second, then he stirred his hips and that's when you felt how hard he is.

"Rafayel..."

You raised a hand to caress his red, warm face and traced his soft lips before giving him a lingering kiss.

He sighs with content against your mouth as he leaned in for more, eyes closed as he cherishes the taste of your lips.

Then, you suddenly pulled back and he looks at you with a pout.

"I wasn't trying to distract you before but now I really am distracting you. You have to keep working if you want to finish on time, Raf."

He groans and rests his forehead on your shoulder. "I knew it. You hate me."

You laughed and squished his cheeks. "Not at all. It's the opposite." one of your hands went to his chest and slid down to his stomach, then to the button of his pants. "I'll stay here and keep you company while you work, okay?"

His breath hitches as you start to unbutton and unzip his pants. "Okay."

You pulled your pants down and moved your panty aside before sliding his cock into you. You let out a gasp as it slipped in so easy, due to his already soaked tip.

Rafayel grunts as his cock settles into your pussy. His body burned with the need to move. His left hand was enveloped with yours, resting on the side of the stool. You then took his right hand, which was still gripping the paintbrush, and held it up to his unfinished painting.

"Keep working."

Rafayel gulps before moving the brush.

Just after a handful of strokes, his cock stirs inside you and a low groan escapes from his mouth.

"I need you. Can I — "

"You have to finish this first. Then, you can move as much as you want, how fast you want."

He throbs at your words.

With his body ignited, Rafayel finds the energy to continue working at a faster rate.

Despite being on the verge of losing control, his hand movements remained steady. Although, he can't help but pause once every while, as you'd clench around his cock and send him farther on edge.

You lost track of time for how long you two were in that position, but Rafayel didn't finish the painting until the sun had gone down and it's dark outside.

The waves outside of his house crashed loudly, and the cold breeze has breached the room, though you could barely notice it as your body is being warmed by Rafayel's.

"It's beautiful!" you exclaimed, admiring his mostly finished artwork.

He said it still needs some final touches, which has to be done tomorrow once everything dries up, but for today, his work is finished.

"Now that you're done, do you wanna eat din— "

Rafayel suddenly stands up but kept an arm around you so that you two don't separate.

Your feet touched the floor and Rafayel slightly bends you over, with one hand on the small of your back and the other on your hips.

"I was promised something once I was done working. Don't you remember, my beloved?" he whispers against your ear before pressing his lips on your cheek. "You offered me yourself."

Your insides tingled at his tone, your core burning up with excitement.

"I can move how much I want, and how fast I want." he repeated your own words back to you. "I'll be taking my gift now."

Rafayel pulls out of you, only to come back in slowly, inch by inch until all of his length is in you. He repeats a few more times before gradually picking up his pace and strength, while his hands hold your hips to keep you steady.

He echoes your erratic gasps of pleasure, sweat glistening on his skin as his body rocks against yours. The sound of his hips snapping against your flesh gets lost in the waves that grew stronger and louder as they reach the shoreline.

You cry out his name as you feel yourself nearing your climax. His chest touches your back and his left arm supports your stomach before going even harder.

Soon, your knees buckle and your hips stutter before coming as he was still fucking you. Rafayel groans as he continues to push himself into you over and over, finding it difficult to slow down.

Then, he explodes inside of you.

And still, he continues to pound you.

The two of you hiss as your sensitive bodies reaches their limits, yet neither are pulling away.

Rafayel didn't stop until the two of you came for the second time. Only then, did he pull out of you.

But still, he wasn't finished.

Rafayel sat you down on the stool chair, then he got on his knees and parted your legs.

"How kind of you to bring me my dinner, my beloved~"

- xavier -

Xavier was in the middle of playing a videogame when you entered his apartment, though his eyes are halfway from closing and the controller on his hands are on the verge of slipping to the floor.

You snuck up towards him so you could give him a jumpscare.

"Boo — whaaa!!"

Without even glancing your way, he suddenly raised his arms and captured you in between them, without even letting go of the controller.

"Hi, doll."

"I wasn't even making any noise and you were half-awake. How did you know?" you sigh, falling limp with your stomach onto his lap.

"You can call it an extra sense."

"Pfft. Okay, Spider Man — oops, I mean Lumiere — "

You were forced to stop talking as Xavier bends down to cover your mouth with his while playfully nipping your bottom lip.

"No Spider Man or Lumiere, just your Xavier."

You were left dazed and speechless from the kiss, so you only stared at his pretty face that wore a half-smile that was proud of the reaction he got out of you.

Xavier casually resumes on playing his videogame, acting as if he didn't die at least seven times just now while he was distracted.

You shifted slightly as you remained lying down on his lap, finding him just as comfortable as his bean-bag chair, where your propped elbows are resting as you lean on your right hand to watch the screen.

Using you like a pillow, he rested his wrists on your ass while his fingers continue to fiddle with the controller.

You didn't mind it at all and shifted even more so that you could be even more comfortable.

As Xavier advances to upper, more difficult levels of the game, he becomes more focused and you become fully immersed in watching him fight enemies.

You didn't even realize until after a while that Xavier is moving an awful lot while just playing a game.

He seems to be squirming under you.

"Xavier... are you good?"

"Mhmm... 'm fine..."

That sounded like a moan just now.

You narrowed your eyes as you turned your head to face him. Sure enough, his face is flushed. You're more than familiar with that look.

Before you could ask any further questions, you felt a stir beneath your hips.

"Heh."

You pushed yourself up and sat on his lap properly with your thighs on the sides of his hips while facing him. Then, you put your hands on his shoulders and leaned forward.

"You could've just asked me to move for you." you grinded your hips against his crotch, making sure to brush against his hard-on.

Xavier lets out a shaky breath before dropping the controller on the floor and putting his hands on your hips, urging you to keep moving.

You swayed your hips until his cock was straining against his pajama pants, until his tip was leaking from desire.

And then, you stopped.

"What — what's wrong?" Xavier looks at you worriedly, eyes still half-lided with lust.

You tugged on the waist band of his pants and pulled it down along with his boxers. Xavier moves to help you get rid of it, then he sighs with pleasure as your hand touches his aching cock.

You stroke him a few times before easing him into you. Xavier grips your hips and nudges you to move, but you stay still despite your insides clenching with need for him.

You slightly bent down backwards to pick up the controller he dropped and put it back in his hand.

"You gotta keep playing, Xavier~"

"What?"

"You wanted to finish this level, right?"

His brows furrowed with confusion. "You...want me to keep playing? Right now...?" His cock twitches, reminding you of your current positions. "But..."

"It'll be fine! I'll cheer you on!"

Xavier then realized what you're planning and lets out a low chuckle before tightening his grip on the controller.

"Fine, but... don't move until I'm done. This won't take long."

Now you wished that you'd faced the other way so you could keep watching him play. Looking over your shoulder to see the screen is uncomfortable, so you just rested your face on his shoulder.

You had no idea what was happening in his game but the fast clicking sounds of the buttons of his controllers made you want to laugh with amusement, knowing he's probably speed-running the level.

But then, you heard a sound that told you that his character just died, and it was followed by Xavier cursing under his breath.

To say that it didn't turn you on would be a lie.

And Xavier picked up on that too when he felt you clench around his cock.

Suddenly, everything darkened around you.

"What?!"

All the lights in the room just went out.

"Looks like the power went out." Xavier murmurs before letting go of the controller. "I can't play now. Too bad."

Xavier's hands made their way back to your hips.

"Gotta find something else to do."

He starts to gently push your hips back and forth, emitting a soft gasp out of your lips, which was muffled as he kisses you deeply.

You nudged him back so that his back could rest on the spatious bean-bag chair, then you put a hand on his chest and bounced on him harder, drawing out erratic groans out of him.

Sweat drips down your bodies as you grind against each other, and yet you couldn't slow down as you feel your insides tingling.

Unable to stay still, Xavier started to thrust his hips upwards to meet you half-way, going even faster than you are, all while his hands are tightly clinging onto yours.

Along with your cries of pleasure, the pitch black room is filled with the sounds of your bodies crashing as you chase your high together.

While Xavier pounds into you uncontrollably, your legs shook as you reach your orgasm, which dripped down to your thighs and onto his skin.

Xavier doesn't stop nor slow down as he feels his climax coming. He sat back up and continued to push his pulsating cock into you until he finally bursts and fills you up with ropes of cum.

He then wrapped his arms around you to hold you against him, with you still on his lap and his cock still nestled nside you.

He buries his face between your breasts, enjoying the way your hand softly combs his hair while you catch your breath.

"Hey, what's that?"

You squinted your eyes to observe the speck of light from his gaming console.

"It's...still on...."

You blinked as you realized what Xavier had done.

"The power never went out... you used your evol to get rid of all the lights?!"

Xavier yawns. "I'm sleepy. We should take a nap."

"Hey!"

[dazzlingjaeyun]

ʙʀᴜɪꜱᴇꜱ – ꜱɪᴍ ᴊᴀᴇʏᴜɴ

engineering major!jake x nursing student fem!reader

୨୧ genre: strangers to implied lovers, mostly angst & smut, MDNI | words: 17.3k | cw: jake is very in love but also lowkey emotionally unavailable, mentions of blood and injuries, self-indulgent shade on iced americano, HANDS (also self-indulgent),  jake has one wet dream, munch jake,  fingering – also semi-public (in his car),  mentions of orgasm denial, marking and biting, dry humping, nipple play,  unprotected sex, creampie, praise, aftercare!! ୨୧ 

read this as a standalone or as a prologue to bandaids! if you've already read bandaids, you can still read this one after. it'll make sense both ways ><

hanna says: huge thank you to @brklynbabyjay and @jayparked for brainstorming a lot with me & helping me with the plot. thank you su for betaing me for this monstrosity and thank you snail for giving me the idea for the title. i appreciate you so so much. also congrats to @tmrwsuns for not losing your mind (and ears) when i yapped about this too much. thank you for hyping me up instead! ily all and this wouldn't have been possible without you <3

mature content under cut, minors do not interact!

“J-Jake,” you mumble out, your fingers tightening the grip on his hair, pulling a little harder – just enough to create the perfect sense of pain. Jake opens his eyes and looks up to you, the sight alone enough to make him bring a finger up to your leaking hole while his tongue keeps focusing on your clit. Your eyes are shut almost a little too tightly, eyebrows firmly drawn together, and bottom lip pulled between your teeth, although that’s barely enough to muffle the pretty moans and whimpers that Jake so badly needs to hear.

It’s almost pathetic how his heart skips a beat at just how easily his finger slides in, how with each pump of it, he can practically see the air getting knocked out of your lungs. When he closes his lips around your clit to gently suck it between his teeth and your head falls back, perfectly displaying the dark red spots he left there so carelessly just minutes ago, he can’t help but let his free hand slip under the soft fabric of his sweatpants, palming his pulsating length through his boxers.

A low groan escapes his lips, sending a wave of vibration through your core that has you bucking up your hips. The movement forces Jake’s eyes shut, his hand almost instinctively leaving his own body and instead reaching for your hip to pull you even closer to his face. 

The second he opens his eyes, the bright rays of sunlight that peak through his curtains force him to squeeze them shut again – only to be met with the same image: you squirming underneath him, legs shaking around his head that you desperately try to pull closer.

Suddenly, his usually loose shirt feels too tight, his light blanket too heavy, and he’s hyper aware of the way his dark bangs stick uncomfortably to his sweaty forehead. He forces his tired lids to lift again and slowly sits up, leaning his back against the headboard of his bed and running his hand through his hair first and then over his face. 

With a sigh, Jake tugs at his shirt, loosening it from his body in an attempt to cool down. His eyes scan the room – books carelessly scattered across his desk, clothes piling up on the chair and the  gym bag with his favorite pair of boxing gloves dangling from it – searching for something, anything, that could distract him from his painfully throbbing hard-on.

Yet, as if he isn’t trying so hard to think of anything other than you, his gaze lands on a few loose papers piling up on the edge of his desk: The notes he took during last week’s statistics class, looming over him like a cruel reminder of the deal that got him into this very situation in the first place.

Back then, when you mutually agreed to help each other, when he promised to send you his notes in return for you taking care of his bruises whenever practice got too rough. The image of your big, innocent eyes as you inspected his bleeding knuckles and the little gash right under his eye only twists the knife of guilt further in his chest.

Jake’s mind flashes back to that one statistics lecture – the only one he was late to. How every seat in the back was taken and he had to awkwardly walk down the stairs to the very front of the lecture hall, feeling all eyes on him as if he walked the walk of shame. How he sat next to you, simply because it was the very first seat he could spot, and he accepted anything to spare him further embarrassment or a comment from the lecturer who had already been eyeing him with raised eyebrows and ‘annoyed’ written all over his face.

He only exchanged a quick, rather forced, smile with you, before rummaging around his backpack until he found a few loose papers and a single pen. Back then, he wasn’t sure if you tried to be subtle as you glanced at his desk from the corner of your eye, observing his rather poor set up, but he noticed nonetheless. Glancing back, he saw you equipped with various pens and highlighters in different colors, yet the notepad in front of you was empty save for the date you’d neatly noted down in the right corner.

You quickly averted your gaze again, glancing back and forth between your empty paper and the lecturer. The crease between your eyebrows got deeper with each phrase he uttered, and your hand stayed rooted in place. Knowing you were supposed to take notes, that there was no way to pass that class otherwise, the professor’s words began to blur together until they were nothing but a fog that clouded your understanding until all hope of making sense of the content disappeared.

Jake on the other hand quickly scribbled down words and formulas, his pen moving over the paper with ease while his focus remained almost entirely on the lecturer and the slides that he projected onto the wall. You eyed his paper again, trying to somehow make sense of the words and numbers, trying to find something you could copy by any chance – just so you wouldn’t leave the lecture hall with an empty notepad again like you’d done the previous two weeks.

But when you tried to catch another glimpse of his notes, his hand quickly rushed over the page while noting down another apparently important point the professor had just made – and your eyes landed on his knuckles.

“They’re not supposed to be that red,” you blurted out your first thought before you could stop yourself. It took Jake a few seconds to fully register your words, but his hand slowly came to a halt as he turned his head your way. He furrowed his brows in a mixture of surprise and confusion, but you barely noticed, your gaze now focused on the gash under his eye. “Neither this,” you added, a little quieter this time.

He didn’t reply, just looked at you with a blank, unreadable expression that forced you to swallow so heavily you were sure it would have been audible hadn’t it been for the lecturer’s endless ramble. You could feel your shoulders tensing as seconds went by without any response from him, and although you pressed your lips together slightly, the silence felt so oddly oppressing that you couldn’t hold back from breaking it again.

"Looks a little puffy too,” you scanned his face for any reaction before averting your eyes as if that could stop him from keeping his on you.

“It’s a bit swollen,” he replied after a while, causing your head to snap back to him, eyes slightly widening in surprise. The boy offered the hint of a smile that was gone so quickly that you barely had enough time to register, let alone reciprocate it.

“Do they hurt?” you asked, letting your eyes wander from the bruise under his eye back to his knuckles, “or feel warm?”

He curled his fingers, clenching his hand into a weak fist before replying with a short nod that you saw from the corners of your eyes, “a little bit of both.”

You hummed. “Might be getting infected.”

When he just wordlessly blinked at you again, you added, “I have some stuff if you wanna clean them up after the lecture.” This time, his reaction was almost immediate, although wordless yet again. He creased his brows another time, scanning your face up and down as if he wasn’t quite sure if he should be confused or suspicious.

“I’m in nursing school,” you clarified. “So yeah, I carry like a mini first-aid kit with me pretty much all the time.” 

Jake’s lips formed a silent ‘oh’ as he nodded understandingly, fingers hovering over his notes almost absentmindedly while he seemed to consider your offer. “I mean,” he began, eyes flashing to the rows behind from where he’d registered a quick ‘sh’, and nodded again. “Alright,” he whispered before offering another quick smile that felt a bit more honest and a lot less awkward than before, and focusing on the lecture again. 

As soon as the professor dismissed the class, you closed your still empty notepad and collected your unused pens before neatly packing them into your bag and instead pulling out a small pouch, while Jake just carelessly shoved his papers into his own backpack, leaving them half crumpled. When you turned to face him, you found his eyes on you already, his expression a mix of uncertainty and expectation.

You wordlessly pulled a small bottle of hand sanitizer out of the pouch and rubbed some of the liquid into your hands. Then, you took out a few antiseptic wipes, carefully tore open the packaging, and extended your arm to signal him to give you his hand.

His skin felt warm against yours, softer than you expected, as his long, slender fingers curled around yours to keep his hand in place, while you gently wiped off the remnants of his wound with your other hand. You watched intently as his veins became a little more present each time the sting of the antiseptic made him tighten his grip around your fingers. Then, you added a little bit of ointment, wrapped a bandage around the wound, and repeated the routine with his other hand.

As you leaned closer to examine the gash on his face and the faintest hint of your perfume tickled Jake’s nose, his breath flattened subconsciously. His eyes landed on your face, now close enough for him to notice the various shades of color in your eyes and the way your lashes curled up perfectly. Jake pulled his lower lip in between his teeth and gently bit down to stop his lips from curving into a smile at your focused expression and your slightly parted lips. Only when you gently tapped over the wound itself did he instinctively pull back just slightly, scrunching his nose in discomfort.

“Sorry.” You pressed your lips together in a tight, apologetic smile that Jake just dismissed with a smile of his own.

“That looks bad,” you mumbled as you carefully applied a thin layer of ointment.

“The other guy looks worse,” Jake stated with a mixture of triumph and amusement, earning himself a look from you that clearly showed you were trying not to snort. “I bet.”

Once you added a small band-aid, although Jake refused at first, you leaned back in your seat to examine his face and hands from a bigger distance. “Much better,” you said with a faint smile. “If they don’t heal, you should get proper medical help though.”

Jake bit back a smile and opted for a nod instead. “Thank you, I owe you.” This time, it was you dismissing his words with a shake of your head and a simple, “you’re good.”

He looked at you for a moment, as if waiting for you to row back on it. But when you didn’t, he slowly stood up from his seat. You mimicked the movement, slung your bag over your shoulder and wordlessly followed him to finally exit the lecture hall.

“Actually,” you said just before he reached the door. He turned back around, his eyebrows slightly raised to show he was listening. “Would you mind sharing your notes with me? I… have nothing,” you asked, avoiding his eyes out of sheer embarrassment. 

“Oh, sure, I got you,” he replied so casually you almost felt stupid for hesitating before. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to you, “Just save your number, I’ll send them to you later.” Nodding, you took the phone from his hand, making sure your fingers didn’t brush against his hurt ones in the process, and quickly typed in your number.

Jake quickly glanced at his phone once you gave it back, just long enough to catch your contact name, before he shoved it back into his pocket. “See you around, Y/n,” he said with a soft smile. And with that, he walked out the door.

That’s how you and Jake, who had first introduced himself as Jaeyun when he’d sent you the notes later that night, found yourselves in some sort of agreement: Every time you helped him patch up his bruises, he sent you his lecture notes. 

And yes, after some time, Jake started sharing his notes without asking for anything in return, as did you whenever he needed your help outside of your statistics schedule. But none of your interactions ever went in a way that would allow his mind to go down the alley of imagining you in any form of sexual context.

The loud ring of his alarm pierces through the silence, startling him and pulling him back to the moment – back to his bedroom that still holds way too little oxygen. Shifting uncomfortably, he reaches for his phone to turn off his alarm, only to be directly met with your name on his lockscreen. The short “thank you! :)” you sent about an hour ago, probably when you saw the lecture notes he’d sent you the evening before. Probably while he was still asleep, dreaming about nothing other than having his face buried deep between your thighs.

With a groan, Jake tosses his phone to the side, lets his head hit the headboard again, and brings his hands up to his shoulders in an attempt to knead away the tension in his muscles. Yet, no matter how hard he tries to refuse, the image of you seems to flood his mind all over again each time he does so much as blink – and even the smallest movements of his hips force him to swallow down a whimper from how sensitive his cock feels against the restraints of his boxers.

Sighing, Jake slumps further against the headboard, spreads his legs just a little to sit more comfortably and takes a deep breath before consciously closing his eyes and really allowing himself to let his mind drift back to you one last time. How he grips your hips to pull you so close to his face that your taste and scent completely take over his senses. How your moans come dulled from how hardly you’re pressing your thighs around his head. How you’re shaking underneath him, clenching so deliciously around his tongue every time he lets it sink in between your folds.

His hand itches to reach for his cock, but he presses his fingers into the mattress instead, fisting the sheets to physically hold himself back from doing so. Then, just as his mind replays your image – of how you look under him, hair sweatily sticking to your pretty face and neck covered in purple love bites – he forces his eyes open again. Clenching his teeth, he sits up straight and lets his face fall into his hands.

“Fuck this,” he murmurs to himself, before he swings his legs off the bed and gets up. He pulls his shirt over his head as he walks to the bathroom, dropping it on the floor along with the rest of his sleeping attire and stepping under the shower where he lets cold water run over his body until it washed away every last thought of you.

Once Jake arrives at the gym, determined to ditch classes in order to keep his mind off of you, he immediately starts his usual warm-up routine, but neither running nor stretching nor the music blasting through his headphones is enough to really achieve that. A tap on his shoulder interrupts his wandering thoughts mid-stretch. When he turns around, he’s met with his friend Sunghoon’s face.

“No classes today?” the younger one asks, to which Jake just shrugs. “If you will.”

Sunghoon looks him up and down for a moment, not missing the hint of distress on his face, but he decides to not ask any questions. Instead, he tilts his head towards the ring in the middle of the room. “Wanna go a few rounds then?” Jake responds with a nod, mimicking his friend as he wraps his hands, straps on his gloves and pops in his mouthguard.

Muscle memory helps him to dodge the first few blows and even land a hit or two. But then, avoiding another dangerously close punch, he makes the mistake of shutting his eyes just for a split second mid-flinch. Yet, it’s enough for a flash of you to run through his mind; a tiny fragment of his dream replaying until a jolt of pain rushes through his head and pushes the image away with force. 

Sunghoon’s eyes widen as he steps back, clearly surprised that he, in fact, landed the punch he aimed right at Jake’s jaw so obviously. “What the fuck?”

Jake just quickly shakes his head, blinking the stars away. “Again,” he orders, repositioning himself before continuing. But just when he thinks his focus is at its peak again, his mind cruelly shifts back to how easily your arousal coated his lips and chin. And then, another punch right to his ribs makes him lurch forward, the air getting knocked out of his lungs in a choked grunt. 

“Focus, Jake,” Sunghoon says, voice laced with a mixture of confusion and warning. “How did you not see that one coming?” He aims another punch that Jake avoids with a step just at the last moment. “You’re slow as hell today, what’s up with you?”

Jake straightens his back and tilts his head to both sides to quickly stretch the tense muscles in his neck. “Nothin’,” he mumbles back, taking a short, yet deep breath in before aiming a hit Sunghoon easily, almost lazily, avoids. The latter raises an eyebrow, waits for just a second and then counters. Jake dodges the first punch, but the second hits him right on the opposite side of his jaw, quickly followed by a third against his ribs.

Scoffing, Sunghoon drops his arms and takes a step back. “Nope,” he says after a while of watching Jake recover from the pain. “We’re not doing this when you don’t even try.”

Before Jake can object, Sunghoon takes off his gloves, slipping through the ropes and out of the ring. Jake wipes his jaw with his forearm, hissing at the stinging pain as his sweaty skin meets the open wound. He bites down on the glove, using his teeth to abruptly pull at the strings before sliding it off his hand and doing the same on the other side. Then, he shoves them into his bag, jaw clenched so tightly in frustration it almost aches. Because even now, all that’s on his mind is you.

Just an hour later, Jake finds himself in front of your door. After taking a deep breath, he slowly rings your bell, the rush of his own blood in his ears muffling the sound that echoes through the door. Admittedly, he hesitated for a good thirty minutes before even contacting you, typing in his message and deleting it again. But despite really wanting to see anyone but you right now, he could already imagine your scolding voice if he didn’t show up. Something about how you’d told him time and again that he should come to you whenever he needed his bruises patched up and blah blah.

“Oh God,” your quiet gasp snaps him back to reality. Only now does he realize you already opened the door and, judging from your reaction, took in the image of his battered face. Before he can react, you reach for his arm, pull him inside and close the door behind him. You wordlessly guide him to the bathroom where you motion him to sit down on the edge of the bathtub before you grab a small emergency kit from the drawer under the sink.

Jake watches you as you move – quickly but precisely, washing your hands and separating cotton pads to soak them up with an antiseptic whose scent stings almost uncomfortably in his nose. When you turn back around, he quickly looks down. Only when you place your index finger under his chin to carefully lift his head do his eyes meet yours again – and he feels his jaw tensing just by the way you scan his face with that familiar, worried expression of yours. Because once it makes his chest feel tight with endearment, it’s quickly replaced by a wave of guilt. Your simple, innocent touch is enough to make him shiver, his mind immediately racing with a million way too inappropriate thoughts and the desperate attempt to push them all away. 

Angling his face to the side, you carefully tap the cotton pad over the wound on his jaw first. “Relax,” you murmur so quietly it might as well have been a whisper when you feel him clenching his teeth even harder. You flicker your eyes up to his briefly only to find them squeezed shut – something he’s never done before. The sight makes you bite the inside of your cheek, the thought of him actually being in pain tugging at your heart just a little.

Turning his face to the other side, you take a new wipe to clean up the slightly smaller bruise there. Once you’re done, you apply a thin layer of ointment to both before letting go of his chin. Just as you want to take a step back, he opens his eyes – and although they seem to hold a vulnerability you’ve never seen before, they soften a little at the sight of yours.

“Thank you,” he mumbles after a while, eyes not leaving yours this time. He’s found himself in that position several times before; sitting on the edge of your bathtub with you standing in between his legs. Yet for the first time, his hands itch to reach out to you.

“Does the other guy look worse again?” you try to joke, but the hint of worry in your voice betrays you. Jake’s lips still twitch up into a soft smile as he shakes his head.

You slowly take a step back to create a bigger distance between you and lean against the sink. And although Jake should feel relieved by the newfound space that makes breathing a little easier again, a tiny part of him wants to pull you back right where you stood two seconds ago.

“So, are you finally gonna tell me how you end up like this every other day? Cause if not, I might start thinking you’re doing some kind of shady stuff.” You cross your arms in front of your chest.

Jake chuckles softly. “I actually do it for fun,” he begins, “and for career reasons, I guess. I’ve been boxing ever since I was a teenager and I wanna go pro.” He studies your face for a second before he continues. “That’s why I don’t put too much effort in my engineering degree, you know. I’m just… kinda doing it ‘cause my parents don’t approve of the whole boxing thing. But that’s always been my first choice.”

There’s something about the hint of pride in his voice that warms your heart, despite the worry that also settles somewhere there. “So, you’re getting beat up for your dreams?” you ask, drawing a quiet laugh from Jake.

“Hey, I beat up people too,” he defends.

“Yeah. And I don’t know if I think that’s a solid career plan.”

Jake halts for a moment and searches your eyes again, expecting that disapproving look he usually got when he shared his plans with anyone. But he only finds a hint of worry instead – and he quickly tries to dismiss the way his heart squeezes ever so slightly. “Now you sound like my parents, too.” 

“Well, thanks to them, you go to college and I won’t fail statistics,” you say with a chuckle.

Jake just responds with a soft smile that’s somehow still enough to spread a warm, cozy feeling all across your chest.

“Good, because medicine can’t afford to lose its best future nurse.”

“Break time,” Jake’s voice cuts through the silence so firmly that you flinch, pen gliding over your notes and crossing some of the words out. You look around the library to find around a dozen other students glaring in your direction, and quickly offer them an apologetic smile before your eyes dart back to Jake.

“I’m not done yet,” you reply, forcing your focus back on the textbook in front of you – until Jake takes the pen from your hand, places it between the open pages and closes the book. “But you’ve been studying non-stop for almost three and a half hours now. I can see your brain fuming,” he sighs. Just as you open your mouth to oppose, he shakes his head and gently presses his index finger against your lips.

“You know that suggesting a break when you’ve been the one to doomscroll this whole time is crazy, right?” you  mumble against the digit. He lets it rest on your lips for another second, and you swear you can see his gaze dropping – but before you can think about it, he looks up again.

“Coffee,” he suggests, although it sounds more like an order. Biting your lip, you debate whether to agree or to bury your head in your books again.

“Coffee it is,” you finally say with a sigh before collecting your stuff and shoving them back into your bag.

The walk to the small campus café is silent, but while it feels like a much needed break for you, it just seems to give Jake’s mind time and space to wander. Every time your shoulders bump against his or his fingers brush yours while walking, even if just for a fragment of a second, his skin starts buzzing. 

By the time you reach the counter, his throat feels so tight that simply asking for your order takes all the effort he can muster. For a second, you eye him with furrowed brows, not quite sure if his jaw is really as tight as it looks or if it’s just the different light inside the store that casts a weird shadow there. 

“I’ll go with a caramel macchiato.”

“Suits you,” Jake responds without thinking, only realizing what he said when your brows draw together again.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He hesitates for a moment. Then, he takes a deep breath that he masks with a shrug. “You’re also sweet.”

You look at him in disbelief, and he almost rows back on his words, until you let out a quiet chuckle. “If that’s you trying to make me pay for your coffee, it’s not working. And by the way, americano is ass. Literally doesn’t even taste like coffee, it’s just colored water and–” 

But Jake doesn’t even listen anymore, busy struggling to ignore the pang in his chest just because you remember his usual order. He bites back his comment about how ‘coffee isn’t coffee either if it contains more syrup than anything else’, instead placing the order and paying before you even get the chance to take out your wallet.

Once you settle on a small table, the silence between you feels relieving – as if your brain finally got the chance to shut off after hours of trying to fit half a semester of pharmacology into your head. Jake, on the other hand, doesn’t feel half as relaxed, seemingly not able to peel his eyes off you, no matter how hard he tries.

You look around the café for a while, watching people come in and leave, until your eyes settle on Jake again. His gaze is intense, filled with something you can’t really read, but it sure is enough to make your heart skip a beat. Enough to suddenly make you feel smaller, tension creeping into your body again.

“What?” you ask so quietly you’re not sure if he even hears over the background noise of the store. Jake only shakes his head in response and drops his gaze to his hands. Your eyes follow his and you allow yourself to watch him play with his rings for a while – turning them, sliding them off and back onto his fingers, knuckles slightly red and veins oh so prominent. Your mind wanders, replaying fragments of every time you cleaned the blood or dirt off his knuckles, or how you taped band-aids around his fingers. Of how his hands felt in yours, fragile but somewhat good, somewhat safe. 

“You’ve got something on your mouth,” Jake’s voice makes your head snap back up. As you try to wrap your head around how long you’ve been zoned-out, Jake reaches forward, wipes his thumb over the corner of your mouth and holds it in front of your lips. You part them just enough to close them around the tip of his finger and lick off the whipped cream, cheeks heating up so quickly you’re sure it’s evident. But Jake doesn’t notice, and if he does, he doesn’t point it out.

Instead, he leans back casually and grabs his drink again. “Do you wanna go back to the library?”

To his surprise, you shake your head. “My brain’s mushy, I feel like I won’t even remember what I studied today.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re always stressing too much. Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

Once you sit down in the passenger seat of Jake’s car, you immediately slump against the leather, lean your head against the window and let the glass cool down your pounding temple. Jake gets in the driver's seat, but instead of starting the engine, he looks at you with his head tilted to the side. “Tired? Or frustrated?” 

With a sigh, you lift your head and turn around to face him. “I usually feel better after a break, but now I really don’t.”

“Maybe you need a… different kind of break,” he hesitates, eyes dropping to your lips for the blink of an eye, so short you barely register it. “Release some stress, you know.”

“Oh, are you volunteering?” You laugh, but Jake doesn’t reply, doesn’t laugh – doesn’t even tear his eyes away from yours. He just shrugs.

In no time, your smile fades, your eyes widen and your breath gets caught in your throat so quickly that it’s hard to speak. “I–... I was joking.”

“Well, I’m not,” he says, face as calm as ever, when in reality his heart seems to be racing a marathon and his palms begin to feel sweaty.

“Did you get hit in the head last practice?” You try to joke, but the small tremble in your voice betrays you.

He absentmindedly pulls his bottom lip in between his teeth as his eyes drop from your eyes to your lips and back up again, holding your gaze as though he could see right through the chaos that is your thoughts. Feeling your heartbeat picking up and your breath coming shorter, you try to swallow down the lump that begins to form in your throat. Jake seems to lean just a hint closer, wetting his lips with his tongue – but just as you want to lean forward too, he suddenly pulls away and sits back in his seat, head falling against the headrest with a sigh. He resists the urge of running his hand through his hair in frustration, before turning his head to the side to look at you again.

“Sorry. I probably did get hit in the head,” he mumbles.

You look at him for a moment, trying to gather your courage to say something, but the words don’t come until he reaches for the key to start the car.

“That’s so unfortunate,” you say, making him stop, “I liked the idea.”

The words make Jake’s eyes dart back to you, and for a while, he just looks at you with an unreadable expression, scanning your face as if trying to find out whether you’re joking. But your gaze is steady and your lips don’t twitch in an attempt to bite back a smile or a laugh. You just lean in a little, then stop to give him time to react. Jake’s eyes never leave yours as he mirrors the gesture.

He leans closer until you can feel the ghost of his breath fanning over your skin, letting goosebumps erupt from just that – and then, as if you’re pulled towards each other by force, you close the distance until his lips are on yours. 

He kisses you softly at first, hesitantly, as though he’s trying to savor how soft your lips feel or how effortlessly they move in sync with his. Heart beating so fast you can feel it in your throat, you reach out to get ahold of his collar and pull him closer. You feel his hands cupping your cheeks, fingertips pressing against your skin like you’d slip away otherwise. But instead, you curl your fingers around the fabric harder and tug on it with just enough force for your teeth to clash.

“Come here,” Jake murmurs against your lips, dropping his hands to your hips and carefully pulling you over the middle console and onto his lap. He kisses you again, this time with more urgency. Your hands find their way around his neck, fingers weaving through his hair and tugging on the ends when he gently bites your lip.

The space between you feels too small and not big enough at the same time, and you’re not sure whether you want to pull away or scoot closer. But before you can make up your mind, Jake tightens his grip on your hips and pulls you in until your torsos touch and you can feel his chest rising and falling against yours as he gently pulls away from the kiss.

“Feel better already?” He asks, voice slightly hoarse and lips softly brushing yours. Jake squeezes your hips as your hands slide from the back of his head down to his shoulders, solely to hold himself back from shuddering at the simple touch. 

“Don’t know,” you reply, smiling against his lips. “Might need a little more to convince me.”

You feel him reciprocating your smile before he kisses you another time. His hands tentatively slide under the hem of your shirt and to your lower back, just resting on your skin, while yours brush over his collarbones and to his chest, where you feel  his heartbeat quickening under your fingertips. 

Jake tilts his head to the side to deepen the kiss, and almost immediately, your hands rush up to his neck again, tugging on his hair just enough to draw a low groan from him. His hands move up and down your waist as though he’s trying to memorize every inch of your body. You slowly pull back, just enough to whisper his name against his lips like it’s the only thing you know how to say. His fingers dig into your skin ever so gently as he leans down to leave soft kisses against your jaw, making your breath stutter and your lips part. 

His touch feels somewhat urgent, yet not rushed – and though your heart aches at how gently he takes his time, how he pulls away barely enough to look at you just to make sure you’re okay, you can’t help the heat that spreads up your spine and down to your core. “Jake,” you whisper again, shuddering as he hums against your neck before he pulls back and scans your face for any signs of discomfort. “Want me to stop?” 

The way you shake your head almost frantically draws a chuckle from Jake. Leaning forward again, he continues to kiss your neck down to your collarbones, one hand still pressing into the flesh of your hips while the other begins to fidget with the waistband of your pants.

Your breath hitches as he slowly slides his hand past it, thumb carefully grazing over your clothed clit. “Let me take care of you,” Jake says so quietly it almost comes out as a whisper. He pulls his hand away, waiting for your response while slowly but steadily sliding the rings off his fingers.

Nodding slowly, you take a deep breath as he pulls your underwear to the side and slides a finger through your folds, collecting your slick and tracing it up to your clit again. You rest your head on his shoulder, letting the scent of his cologne tickle your nose as your breath gets shakier each second his finger carefully rubs over your sensitive bud.

You want to tell him you want more, but not trusting your voice you just buck your hips forward slightly. Jake, who understands wordlessly, bites back a smile as you can’t seem to help the quiet whimper at the feeling of his digit prodding at your entrance. “That what you want?” He asks, voice so confident it only intensifies the feeling of being completely put into his hands. You just manage a quiet hum that gets stuck in your throat as he slowly pushes the finger in, immediately curling it so perfectly that you could almost forget it’s the first time he’s ever touched you like that.

Continuing his antics, he carefully adds a second finger, angling them just right to hit the sweet spot that draws a quiet moan from you. The sound is enough to cause a shiver to run down Jake’s spine –  and suddenly, all he wants is to hear it again.

He gently presses his thumb against your clit, not able to hold back the quiet groan as he feels you clenching around his fingers. As your grip on his shoulders tightens and your breath comes even more ragged, he places a gentle kiss on the crown of your head. “Everything still okay?”

The softness in his voice makes your heart flutter a little as you try your best to stay composed enough to nod. “Just… please don’t stop,” you murmur, voice almost breaking at the end. Your breath feels hot against Jake’s neck, yet it makes him shiver. Every curve of his fingers seemingly guided solely by your sounds and the way you arch into him, Jake closes his eyes to focus only on the way your breath grows heavier as each stroke brings you closer to release.

“Let go for me, hm?” Jake asks so gently it fully contrasts the pace of his fingers, making your heart squeeze just as your orgasm hits you with a force that has you digging your fingers into his shoulders. Jake continues, helping you ride out your high, until pleasure gives way to pain and you manage a choked out ‘too much’. He pulls away quickly but carefully, slightly shaking his shoulder to get you to lift your head.

“Hey,” his eyes search yours as he gently rubs your back underneath your shirt, “you alright?” Taking a deep, shaky breath, you nod and back it up with a soft smile. Jake’s eyes drop to your lips once more, but he doesn’t lean in. Instead, he pulls your head to his shoulder again and just holds you there until your breath evens out.

When you open your eyes again and your gaze falls directly onto his strained pants, you slowly trace one hand from his shoulder down his torso. Jake’s eyes flutter shut as his cock twitches in anticipation – but just as your fingers ghost over his clothed length, he grabs your wrist to stop you. When you lift your head and give him a questioning look, he just offers a smile in return, lifts your hand to his lips, and places a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

“You don’t owe me anything, you know. I just wanted you to feel good.” You open your mouth, but he shakes his head, reassuring, “I’m okay, really. Let’s take you home, yeah?”

Even days later, you don’t talk about what happened, or how steadily he held your hand when he insisted on walking you up to your apartment. Neither about how he randomly starts coming over just to bring you snacks from the convenience store close to his gym whenever he heads home from practice. Not even after you notice that whatever he brings is always something you mentioned craving just a little while ago. 

And technically, things stay the same, except that they don’t, really. Jake still sits next to you in statistics lectures. He still takes the notes while you’re trying to figure out what’s going on, still sends them to you unasked. But now, he doesn’t pull away when his knee brushes yours under the table, and you swear he softly bumps his hand against yours on purpose while writing.

You still take care of his wounds after practice. It’s just that now, you text him every night to make sure he really is okay – even if he leaves your place just an hour earlier. And on some days, he doesn’t go home at all. You start keeping his favorite cereal in your kitchen cupboard, and suddenly, the mug he uses for his morning coffee becomes only his, and you stop using it.

He still looks after you, paying attention to your study habits and making sure you’re taking breaks. But now, taking breaks means having his head buried between your thighs. And now, revising means trying to remember what you studied just an hour ago while his fingers work you closer and closer to release, only granting it when you get the answers right.

“Metoprolol,” he reads what feels like the twentieth flashcard, thumb drawing soft circles over your clit. You sigh, closing your eyes and focusing on the feeling, until it suddenly stops. When you open your eyes, you find Jake already looking at you, waving the flashcard like a reminder. “Metoprolol,” he repeats.

“That’s a beta-blocker,” you grumble, wiggling your hips to get Jake to continue, but he just drops the flashcard to your mattress and grips your hips firmly enough to stop you.

“And what’s a beta-blocker?” He asks, biting the inside of his cheek to hold back his grin as you roll your eyes.

“You know what a fuckass beta-blocker is, Jake.”

He raises an eyebrow, slowly pulling his hand away from your core. “Come again?”

For a while, you just look at him, jaw clenched and hoping he’ll eventually give up on your pharmacology revision. But he just looks at you with an almost bored expression, not making any attempt to continue. 

“They lower heart rate and blood pressure,” you sigh, now giving him an almost pleading look. He hums, letting his thumb ghost over your skin without really touching you. “They’re usually used for hypertension or after heart attacks to–” you cut off as he finally slips a finger into your aching hole.

The first ring of your doorbell barely catches your attention, muffled like a quiet disturbance somewhere further away. But when it rings again and a third time only shortly after, you push your chair back with a sigh and stand up. Your knees almost buckle and your spine cracks uncomfortably, shoulders hurting as you roll them back in an attempt to release the tension that’s been building up from sitting for countless hours.

The fourth ‘ding’ has you rolling your eyes annoyedly. A shiver runs over your scalp and down your spine as you release your hair from the tight bun you kept them in, only now realizing that the hairstyle probably contributed greatly to the pounding in your head. You ruffle them a bit, trying to adjust them so they fall into your face to cover as much of your reddened, puffy cheeks as possible, while you drag yourself to the door and open it without a glance through the small peephole.

The air from outside immediately hits you, clinging to your bare legs uncomfortably. It takes just a look at Jake’s gym bag to recognize him, but your eyes still slowly wander up his torso and to his face.

“Are you hurt?” you try to ask, but the words only come out half. You clear your throat and ask again, scanning his face for any visible bruises, but finding nothing but a hint of concern etched onto his features.

“No,” he replies, studying your face the same way you do with his and pulling his brows together a little tighter at the sight of your glassy eyes and the circles forming underneath them. “You didn’t reply to my messages all day and that’s… kinda unlike you. So I wanted to check in on you.”

“I was studying,” you mumble.

Jake sighs almost inaudibly, just loud enough for you to register the faint sound of it. “I can see that. You look like hell.”

You meet his gaze for a second before you avert your eyes. “Thanks, Jake. Flattering.”

He ignores your remark, still scanning your face. “Were you crying?” he asks, but you don‘t reply.

Without another word or an invitation, Jake takes a step towards you, closing the door behind him with a soft click and dropping his bag to the floor. “Come on, you should really take a break,” he says softly, and although the familiar hint of concern in his voice usually causes a gentle warmth to spread across your chest, this time it feels close to infuriating. You can feel how your shoulders tense again at his suggestion and you immediately shake your head in response. 

“You’ve probably been sitting at your desk for hours. It‘s okay to slow down a bit,” Jake says so soothingly it nearly comes off as belittling. He keeps searching your face for any type of reaction, his gaze suddenly so heavy on you that you almost begin to feel small. “You‘re not going to get anything done if you‘re this exhausted,” he tries again.

“I don‘t have time for a break. Not everyone can afford to fall behind and fail their classes, Jake!” You snap, the words spilling out in a tone much harsher than intended and before your brain even finishes your thoughts. It takes only a flicker of your eyes up to his face to see his reaction – his jaw tightening slightly and a small wrinkle forming on his forehead, not from concern this time, but from irritation.

He stays silent for a moment. “That wasn‘t necessary,” he finally mumbles, the earlier softness in his voice now replaced by something firmer. You open your mouth to apologize, but your throat tightens, closes up, makes it hard to speak or even swallow down your apology.

But just seconds later, Jake lets his shoulders fall with a soft sigh, the tension on his face slowly dissolving. He takes another slow step forward and reaches out to gently place his cold hands on your heated cheeks, cupping your face with a grip ever so lightly, as though he‘s giving you every chance to pull away and step back. “It‘s okay,” he reassures quietly. “I shouldn‘t have pressured you.”

Your throat tightens even more as you look up at him the second before tears begin to blur your vision – and just when you want to turn your head away, Jake tightens his grip. Closing your eyes instead, you grit your teeth as hard as you can when one tear rolls down your cheek and you feel Jake’s thumb gently wiping it away.

When you open your eyes only to find his eyes filled with more warmth and softness than ever before, you sniff once, mumble a low, “I’m sorry,” and pull back with a little more strength.

“Wanna rant about how annoying classes are?” he asks softly, tilting his head to the side, but you slowly shake your head. “Do you want me to leave?” He bites the inside of his cheek, regretting the question before he even finished asking it. But to his surprise, you shake your head again.

“Stay,” you confirm quietly, just loud enough for him to catch. His hand itches to reach out to you again – to pull you in and hold you close until he’s made sure that you’re okay. But instead, he just nods. “Movie?” He suggests so gently that your heart almost skips a beat at his attempt to still keep you away from your desk, just not as pushy as before.

When you settle on the sofa next to Jake, he places his arm on the cushions behind you. You stare at the screen, but you don’t really pay attention to whatever is playing. All you can focus on is Jake; the scent of his body wash, the way just sitting next to him leaves the palm of your hands sweaty despite the air conditioning, and how his arm behind you makes you feel so close to him, although he doesn’t touch you. You glance down right in time to catch Jake spreading his legs a little further – just enough for his knee to softly brush against yours.

Tentatively, you lean closer until your head reaches his shoulder. He lets his arm slide off the cushions and around your shoulder almost instantly, pulling you more in so your head rests fully on his shoulder. You stay like that in silence, Jake absentmindedly letting his fingers slide up and down your arm, until you scoot a little closer. He reaches for your thigh with his free hand, slowly curling it around the inside of it just to place your leg on top of his own.

“Is this okay?” he asks quietly as he lets his hand rest on your knee. 

The simple, innocent contact is enough to make your breath hitch, enough to let goosebumps erupt on every inch of skin he touches. Not trusting your voice, you opt for a quick nod of your head that draws a sheepish smile on Jake’s face.

You stay like that for a bit, both pairs of eyes on the screen without really paying attention. Jake traces gentle patterns on your skin, trying his best to not be too obvious about how he follows every small twitch of your thigh or every inch you slowly scoot closer. Skin crackling under his touch, a soft sigh gets caught in your throat as he slings his arm around your waist and pulls you onto his lap.

“Better?” he asks quietly, almost inaudible over the sound coming from the TV. You reply with a hum, before hesitantly draping your arms around his neck. Your fingers gently lace through his hair as you lean forward to rest your head on his shoulder again. His hands settle on the small of your back, just holding you in place for a while.

Although neither of you speaks, the show that’s playing slowly wanders to the very back of your mind, attention zeroing in on the sound of Jake’s steady breaths and the feeling of your body gently pressed against his, somewhat peaceful, yet unsettling at the same time. Not enough.

As if reading your mind, Jake softly tugs at your sweater to wordlessly gain your attention. Shifting slightly, you lift your head from his shoulder to look at him. His eyes find yours immediately, softening just a bit at how they now seem much calmer than before. You allow yourself to get lost in his brown orbs, and, for the very first time, embrace the warmth that spreads through your chest. You're so absorbed in his eyes that you don’t even acknowledge the strand of hair falling onto your face until you feel Jake gently tugging it behind your ear. 

His hand lingers on your cheek as his eyes dip down to your lips. Chest buzzing from your quickening heartbeat, you tentatively lean a little closer. He lets his hand slide to the back of your head and gently pushes you forward until his breath fans over your lips – and before he can ask, you close the last bit of distance between you.

Surprised at first, Jake reacts quickly, eyes closing and lips moving effortlessly in sync with yours. His fingertips gently press against your scalp as he angles his head slightly to deepen the kiss. The blissful shiver his touch sends down your neck draws a whimper from you, so quiet you would have thought it went unnoticed by Jake if it wasn’t for the twitch of his fingers. When you slowly pull back, breaths coming more ragged, his hand moves from the back of your head down to your neck, fingers curling around your throat ever so gently – just enough to pull you back in.

He kisses you almost feverishly now, earlier hesitation gone as he glides his tongue against yours and gently bites on your lower lip. Each of his antics has you pulling on his hair a little harder, sending blissful shivers down his spine at the memory of all the times he felt that same tug on his scalp with his face buried in between your thighs.

Slowly pulling back and allowing both of you to breathe, his hand drops from your neck to your hips, pushing past the hem of your sweater to rest on your bare skin. Then, his lips are on you again, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses against your jaw, your neck, the spot right under your ear and your collarbone. He sucks on your skin, gently bites down wherever he knows it will draw a quiet moan from you, and quickly licks over the bruised skin to soothe it – all while firmly holding you close to him, fingers almost boring into your skin. 

His other hand toys with the fabric of your sweater, softly tugging on it without making any attempt to rid you of it. But the ache between your legs only grows bigger with every second that passes with him marking what seems like every accessible inch of your skin. You let your hands sink to his shoulders, squeezing softly to get his attention, but his lips stay attached to your collarbone, leaving yet another love bite.

Only when you manage to mumble his name, voice breathy and almost breaking at the end of the syllable does he pull back to look at you. “Take it off,” you mutter – and before he can open his mouth to ask if you’re sure, you beat him to it with a quiet “please.” He nods, hands sliding to the hem of your sweater to slowly, almost shakingly push it up. Trying his best to keep his eyes on yours, he can’t help but peek down as he carefully pushes the piece of clothing over your head and drops it somewhere on the sofa.

“So pretty,” he whispers, leaning forward again to softly place his lips on top of yours, hands sliding up hesitantly before cupping your boobs and giving them a gentle squeeze that draws another quiet moan from you. His lips trail down your neck again, touch gentle yet somewhat impatient, until he reaches your chest.

Raising his head to look up at you, he waits until you give a short nod, before attaching his lips to one nipple. The content sigh that leaves your lips at the contact shoots right to his hardening cock. Eager to draw another one from you, he flattens his tongue against the bud, gently sucking on it right after. Once the quiet moan reaches his ears, the corners of his lips curl up into a smirk. He pulls off to come eye-level with you, chuckling softly as he catches the hint of disappointment on your face at the loss of contact.

“Don’t hold back,” he orders, voice not as firm as he initially planned, but the hint of softness makes your heart flutter a little. “I know you can be louder than that. Let me hear you, hm?” He asks, bringing two fingers in front of your lips. You slowly open your mouth just enough for him to push the digits past your lips and onto your tongue. Keeping your eyes on his, you hesitantly start sucking on his fingers, not missing how his jaw tenses although his expression never falters once.

“I said let me hear you,” he repeats, voice dipping lower – just enough to make another shiver run down your spine, but you stay silent. He pulls his fingers out with a tsk. “You’re not usually this shy, what’s up today?”

Instead of waiting for a response, his mouth is on your nipple again, the fingers that pressed down on your tongue just moments ago coming up to flick and twist the other one. Your head lolls back with a shaky breath, nails digging a little deeper into his clothed shoulders.

There’s a part of you that wants to keep holding back, not only out of shyness, for this is the first time Jake has ever seen you shirtless. It’s the way his antics grow messier, almost desperate to finally get the reaction he wants, that just feels too good. While you’re busy wondering if just nipple stimulation has ever caused your underwear to stick to your drenched core this much, one particularly harsh pull rips a surprised moan from you. 

Although you keep your eyes closed, partly to spare you from embarrassment, you can feel Jake smiling against your skin. You subconsciously slide forward, his hardening cock pressing against your heat, and the tiny bit of friction is enough for you to clench around nothing. When you press against him again, Jake curses under his breath, but you don’t quite catch what he says. Both his hands are quick to land on your ass, fingers digging into the plush skin while he guides you, and the way the outline of his clothed hard-on perfectly presses against you draws whimper after whimper from you.

Your eyes roll back each time his tip meets your pulsating clit, the sensation feeling almost overwhelming despite the layers of fabric between you. Not knowing how to deal with the mix of not wanting to stop and really, really wanting more, his name leaves your lips in a moan that has his hips stuttering for a second.

“What do you want?” he asks softly, tilting his head to the side the adorable way he often does when talking or listening to you.

Instead of replying, you only press against him harder. His eyes roll back with a low groan, but he refuses to give in.

“Use your words, pretty.”

“Want you,” you murmur, and although he really wants to hear you say it again, he’s too impatient to make you repeat yourself. Instead, he quickly manhandles you from his lap onto the sofa, your back pressed against the cushions as he hovers over you and starts leaving more kisses from your neck over your chest and stomach down to the waistband of your shorts. He quickly pulls it in between his teeth and down your legs without breaking eye contact. Once your shorts and underwear are carelessly discarded somewhere on the floor, his hands find their way to your thighs, spreading them apart to put your dripping core perfectly on display for him. 

You let your forearm fall over your eyes as you feel the familiar heat creeping up on your cheeks, feeling timid no matter how many times he’s already seen you like this. The feeling of two fingers gently sliding in between your glistening folds makes you arch your back, and although you can’t see him, you can practically hear Jake’s grin as he speaks, “so wet just for me?”

Again, he doesn’t wait for your response and licks one long stripe from your hole up to your clit, where he circles the bundle of nerves with his tongue before tentatively sucking it between his lips. The moan that rips from your throat only motivates him to do it again, making your back arch off the sofa again. When his tongue finds your hole, his nose bumps against your clit, drawing another whimper from you while he laps up everything you give him with a content hum.

Just as he focuses on your clit again, grabbing your thighs and placing your legs over his shoulders to bury his face deeper between them, you manage a quiet “stop” in between moans.

Jake quickly sits back on his knees and brings his hands to your thighs to gently massage them. “Is everything okay?” The soft look he gives you makes your heart skip a beat, your chest feeling warm with endearment.

“I just… I want you,” you admit, watching as his eyes widen.

Suddenly, Jake’s throat feels dry, and his chest rises and falls quicker as he tries his best to find a different meaning to your words than the one he initially comes up with. “What do you mean by that?”

You hesitate for a moment. “I want you to–... I need you to fuck me.”

Jake’s hands come to an immediate halt, as he swallows the lump in his throat to physically hold his jaw from dropping at your words.

“Fuck, you can’t say this like that,” he mutters.

You don’t respond, just look up at him with pleading eyes as you can practically see his brain short-circuiting.

“I don’t have any con–”

“I don’t care,” you interrupt him, “please, Jake.” Grabbing the collar of his shirt, you pull him in for a soft kiss that completely contrasts the urge in your core. He immediately melts into the kiss, reciprocating it with the same tenderness, until he pulls back way too soon and pulls his shirt over his head.

Your hands find his skin, marvelling at the toned chest and abs he’s been hiding from you. Jake sighs softly at the contact, muscles contracting under your touch as your fingers curl under the waistband of his sweatpants to pull them down along with his boxers. His cock springs free, perfectly hard with beads of precum dribbling down the sides. You reach out, but Jake grabs your wrist to stop you. His other hand pushes your leg more to the side before he carefully guides his tip through your wet folds, over your clit and down to your leaking hole. He hisses at the feeling, clenching his jaw tight to hold back from moaning just from the feeling of your arousal alone. 

“Jakeee,” you whine, bucking up your hips just enough for his tip to slide in. Choking back a groan, he places one hand on your knee to angle your leg so that he can properly line himself up with your entrance. He looks at you as if scanning your face for any kind of uncertainty, but before he can ask if you’re sure, you nod.

Jake slowly pushes in, head thrown back as your warm walls welcome him inch by inch. His fingers dig into the flesh of your leg as he tries to hold onto whatever little sanity he has left in him and give you time to adjust.

“Doing so good for me already,” he mumbles more to himself than to you, but the praise is enough for you to clench around him in a way that draws a hiss from him while his eyes shut close. He wants to tell you how you can’t do that to him just yet, but he doesn’t trust his voice. Just as he tries to focus on not bursting without having even moved, your gentle grip on his biceps makes him open his eyes.

“You can move,” you say softly. And so he does, head dropping to the crook of your neck as he slowly starts moving.

Although the stretch feels amazing, the way his hips roll against yours so perfectly, hitting all the right places in a way you haven’t felt before, something feels off. You try to angle your hips differently, to change the placement of your legs, squirming under him for less than three seconds before he quickly comes to a halt. He lifts his head, eyes searching yours as his hand quickly comes up to cup your cheek.

“Hey… what’s wrong? Do you want to stop?” He asks so gently it almost hides the breathlessness in his voice.

You shake your head, letting out a shaky breath as you feel your body tensing in frustration. “No, I just… I don’t know what’s wrong,” you murmur. Suddenly, you feel a lump forming in your throat again, the stress from earlier mingling with the newfound frustration now.

“Babe,” he coos, the sudden nickname bringing your attention back to him. “We’ve never done this before. It’s okay if something doesn’t work out immediately.” His thumb brushes against your cheek tenderly, and leaning into his touch, you slowly start relaxing.

Jake slides his hands under your back, pulling you with him as he sits up and positions you on his lap without slipping out of you. You hold onto his arms again while you slowly sink down on his lap fully, gasping softly at how deep he reaches now. “Let’s try this,” he suggests, hands sliding down your back to your hips. He gently lifts you up a little before he guides you back down, shivers running over his body at the soft moan you let out.

“Just go with whatever feels good for you,” he says, voice so gentle you completely miss the way he’s losing his mind internally.

“But you–”

“Don’t worry about me, you feel perfect for me,” he reassures before you can voice your doubt.

So you start, going slowly, hesitantly at first, then a bit faster – this time quickly finding a rhythm that feels just right for both of you.

“Fuuuck,” Jake pants as his head falls back against the sofa and his fingertips bore a little harder into the flesh of your hips. Your hands weakly grab onto his shoulders for support as you feel the burn in your thighs intensify.

“Just a little longer, baby. Can you do that for me?” He asks when you slow down, lazily grinding on him rather than riding him. His voice is breathy – laced with a strange mix of exhaustion and lust that is enough to send shivers down your spine.

You nod tiredly, though you can’t fully register what he even asked for. His voice is muffled by the ringing in your ears; the only thing you can truly focus on is the way he fills you up so perfectly and how fresh waves of pleasure shoot through your entire body every time your clit rubs against his pelvis.

Jake lifts his head from the sofa to take a better look at your face, and if it didn’t boost his ego so much that your cheeks were flushed, your eyes almost teary and your lips slightly bruised from all the kissing, he would almost feel pity for you. 

“So pretty like that… Such a good girl for me,” he breathes, but his words don’t quite reach you. You let your head fall into the crook of his neck where every breath of yours covers his skin in goosebumps and every little whimper makes his cock twitch inside you.

You barely register how he tightens his grip on your hips until he holds you down firmly enough to stop your movements. Before you can even lift your head to look at him, he bucks his hips up, his tip kissing your cervix so deliciously that you can’t hold back a surprised moan as your nails dig deeper into the skin of his shoulders.

Jake’s eyes flutter shut at the way your walls clench around him. He rolls his hips into yours another time, leaning his head against the cushions again and relishing how good you feel around him, how your warm slick coats his length and drips down his thighs. 

His hands find their way to your ass, lifting you up just slightly, only to roughly push you down to meet his next thrust.

The world around him suddenly goes quiet – the sound of the TV playing in the background, even the quiet hum of the air conditioning that Jake always hears – none of these reach his ears anymore. The only thing he can focus on are your moans that echo off the walls, each of them only spurring him to make you feel better, to make you moan louder.

You can barely hear the string of curses he mutters under his breath, but his breathy whimpers pierce through the wall of pure pleasure, shooting straight to your core. Your legs feel numb, but the way he whines just a little louder and grabs your ass just a little tighter whenever he reaches so deep you’re sure you could see the bulge in your stomach if you had the strength to lift your head from his shoulder motivates you to keep going.

Jake moves one hand up to the back of your head, fisting some of your hair and pulling your head back so gently it’s almost endearing compared to his thrusts. “Keep your eyes on me, baby,” he mutters, holding back a moan at just the sight of your fucked out expression.

Your entire body is tingling, making it hard to not squeeze your eyes shut. “I said eyes on me,” Jake manages between whimpers, focusing his own gaze fully on your face. He can literally see how each snap of his hips brings you closer to release, and god does he love to see it. How he has you right where he wanted you for so long, how he can draw those pretty moans from you, how he doesn’t even need you under him to have full control over your pleasure.

“Jake,” his name rolls off your lips with a moan that makes his hips stutter, his jaw tensing as he tries to solely focus on not letting go just yet.

His hand slowly lets go of your hair and roams over your body, leaving goosebumps in its trace. He cups your breasts, gently squeezes your waist, places his hand on the small of your back to pull you impossibly closer until he finally settles for your clit. A small sigh escapes your lips when he starts to rub slow circles around the bud. You let your head fall on Jake’s shoulder again, strands of hair sticking to your forehead, your cheeks, covering your eyes that you shut tighter with each snap of his hips.

Jake feels his abdomen tighten, his thighs shaking as every thrust knocks the breath out of your lungs all over again. His fingertips dig deeper into your skin, relishing how fast your arousal covers his other hand and how each of your moans bring him closer to the edge.

A murmured “don’t stop,” is all you can muster as you feel the tension in your body reach the unbearable. The sensation makes your head spin – your clit throbbing under his touch, your walls clenching around him tighter and tighter and your skin tingling on every inch your bodies meet.

You can’t even warn him before your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave, leaving your body shaking and your nails digging into the skin of his shoulders.

“Fuck, I–” Jake cuts off, his eyes rolling back as he feels his cock twitching. He places both hands on your back, pulling your chest flush against his, so close that you can feel his heart beating rapidly against yours, as he finally allows himself to let go.

He lazily thrusts his hips up a few more times, not only riding out his own high but yours too, before he stops completely and lets his head fall back against the sofa again. Your heavy exhales hit Jake’s sweaty neck as you try to catch your breath, forcing another shiver down his spine. He lets his fingers brush up and down your back gently, waiting for both of your heartbeats to slow down while he softly murmurs words you’re still too far gone to understand.

Only when you slowly lift your head from his shoulder does he open his eyes to look at you. The corners of his lips curl up, offering a smile that feels so warm you almost don’t notice how your body temperature slowly begins to drop.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice ever so gentle although slightly hoarse, as one of his hands lets go of your back and instead moves up to your face to carefully brush your hair out of your face.

You reply with a short nod, tiredly reciprocating his smile. “I’m tired,” you mumble, which earns a soft chuckle from Jake.

“Shower or bath?” he asks, letting his hand rest on your cheek and softly brushing his thumb up and down your skin. You allow yourself to lean into his touch slightly, yet you pout your lips, “nothing.”

Smiling softly, Jake leans forward to press a light kiss against your forehead. “Can you take a deep breath for me?”

Jake drops his hands to your hips, slowly lifting you up once you exhale to carefully pull out of you. Only when he gently sets you down on the sofa do your legs stop shaking. “Good job,” he mumbles. Then, he pushes himself up from the sofa, picks up his sweatpants from the floor and quickly slides them on.

You watch him, gaze wandering over his bare back, the marks your nails left on his skin and the way his muscles slightly flex with each small movement, before he turns around with a soft smile and leaves the living room.

Your eyes are barely open when he comes back with a glass of water in one hand and a dampened washing cloth in the other. He hands you the glass with a soft smile, waiting for you to drink and placing it on the coffee table after. Then, he motions you to lay back with a gentle push against your shoulders. Placing his hands on each of your knees, he slowly spreads your legs apart to carefully clean you up.

The warm fabric feels soft and the way Jake wipes it over your sore skin ever so gently makes your heart flutter as the familiar warmth of just being around him spreads through your chest. Just as your eyes begin to close, the feeling of Jake’s soft lips against your forehead makes you open them again. He’s leaning over you, eyes and smile filled with something between warmth and fondness.

“You hungry?” he asks so quietly he might as well have whispered as he reaches out to gently tuck some strands of hair behind your ear.

Your tired eyes light up at the mention of food. “Can we order pizza?”

Jake nods with a chuckle. After finding his phone somewhere on the floor, he hands it to you. “Choose what you like, I’ll be right back, yeah?” Already invested in the options, you barely register Jake leaving the room again, until he returns with a shirt in his hand. You would have mistaken it for one of yours, if not for the bigger size and the unmistakable scents of his detergent and cologne as he carefully pulls it over your head and guides your arms through the sleeves.

“I always keep an extra one in my bag,” he explains before you can open your mouth to ask.

Trying to dismiss the bubbly feeling in your stomach, you nod in response and mouth a quick ‘thank you’. Jake offers another gentle smile, before taking his phone from your hands, choosing his food and placing the order. The two of you just wait in silence, you sitting on Jake’s lap, one of his hands around your waist to hold you close while he rubs soothing circles onto your back with the other.

After you finish your food – well, Jake’s food, simply because you liked it better than your own and he immediately switched the two boxes – he curls one arm around your waist and the other under your knees and picks you up to carry you to the bedroom where he gently lays you down on your bed before crawling in next to you.

As if it was second nature, his arms find their way around your body again, pulling you in and holding you so close it almost feels like he never wants to let you go again. And despite being too tired to really think about it, you can’t help but wish he means it.

“Jake?” His name rolls off your lips before you can stop it.

You feel his chest vibrate underneath your head as he hums in response. You hesitate for a bit, letting his slow breaths lull you in until you feel yourself drifting off and you barely register the confession you mumble right before sleep pulls you under.

“I really like you.”

The next morning, you wake up from a shiver running over your body. Eyes still shut, you scoot closer to Jake, expecting to be embraced by the warmth of his body, but his side feels even colder.  When you slowly open your eyes, you’re met by the bright sunlight that shines through your curtains, and an empty other half of the bed. You hold your breath for a moment, checking for any sounds coming from the bathroom or the kitchen, for quiet footsteps outside your room. But when you hear nothing, the apartment feeling more silent than ever before, you push the air out through your nose. 

Although your body feels heavy, your legs and core a little sore, you slowly sit up and reach for your phone on your nightstand. As soon as you grab it, your screen lights up with Jake’s name, the pile of messages he sent the day before, and one from only 43 minutes ago.

Jake: had to leave early for practice and didn’t wanna wake you up :( hope you slept well tho. you looked cute haha. text me when you’re awake?

Biting your lip to hold back a smile, your eyes skim over the previous messages – his question if you wanted to grab dinner after practice, his repeated attempts to ask if you’re okay, if you’re really just studying for so long, or if he did anything to upset you – before they land on the most recent message again. You quickly type your reply and hit send, before falling back into bed, pulling the blanket over your body and letting Jake’s scent take over your senses until you’re fully embraced by it.

When he responds just a little later than usual that day, you don’t think much of it. He tells you about practice, how he doesn’t have any bad bruises this time, and even sends you a picture for proof. You smile at his messages like you’re used to by now, and your heart does that little jump when he sends a voice note to wish you sweet dreams later that night.

Then, little by little, his replies begin to come later, his calls less frequently. He slowly replaces the occasional forehead kisses for kisses on your cheek, or sometimes, none at all. And although you try to shove it away, sometimes you can’t help but think about it. You begin to wonder whether his touch really feels a little less soft than usual, or if your mind is just playing games with you. If his message was intended to sound a bit colder, or if you’re reading too much into it.

He never brings up your quiet confession, and you don’t either, unsure if he even heard, when in reality the four words are constantly replaying in his mind. When you repeat them without saying them, just because your touch is so much softer than before. Because your eyes search for his more often, and the look in them makes his heart drop. And sometimes, when he keeps his hand around yours a bit longer, you allow yourself to think that he might not let go. You almost ask. But each time, he quickly pulls away, changing the topic as though he’s terrified of what could happen if he gives you enough time to think.

Yet, he’s still around. He still comes over after practice, still eats dinner with you, still checks in on you, and still stays when you’re studying. Just not as frequently, and seemingly not as whole-heartedly.

“This one looks painful,” you mumble, standing between Jake’s legs as you clean up a cut on his lips. He doesn’t reassure you that it’s fine. Instead, he just responds with a hum that sounds more indifferent than anything else. His breath flattens when you finish up by applying some of your favorite chapstick to his lips like you usually do, its familiar scent flooding his senses until all he can think about is how it tastes on your lips. And for a second, he seems like he might lean in. But then he stands up so rapidly that his forehead almost clashes with yours, mumbles a quick thank you, something about having to run errands, and rushes out of the door with nothing more than a short goodbye-kiss to your cheek.

Jake doesn’t send you his usual good night text that night – neither the night after. He stops coming over as much. Because he’s tired, busy, or already has plans. But when you tell him that you miss him, he still responds that he does too. Until he doesn’t respond at all.

You reassure yourself he’ll text tomorrow, but tomorrow turns into the day after tomorrow, and then into the day after that. Your follow-up message remains unanswered, and the next one stays a draft until you eventually erase it.

After that, you only see him once. He walks past you in the college hallways, so quickly that you have just enough time to catch a glimpse of the angry red bruise blooming right over his cheekbone. You almost turn around, almost call his name and reach out to ask if he’s okay, but he’s gone before you can second-guess it. And you don’t see him again until he rings at your door a few days later.

“Can we talk?”

Jake almost shoots the question at you, as if he’d forget it if he didn’t get it out fast enough. You look him up and down for a moment, silently wondering why, suddenly, he wants to talk, when he’s been so painfully obvious at avoiding you for what felt like an eternity.

At first, you don’t reply, stuck between having no words to say and having too many. A part of you wants to slam the door in his face, another one wants to hear him out, and despite the feeling of discomfort in your stomach, one part in the very back of your heart hopes that this somehow means something good. “About?”

“Us.”

You swallow lightly, yet it’s enough for Jake to register. When you step to the side to let him in, he hesitates for the blink of an eye. Then, he comes in, waits until you close the door, and hesitates again when you look at him expectantly, before he takes a deep breath in and finally speaks.

“I don’t know where this is leading, and I don’t know where you want this to lead.” He takes a break, eyes searching yours as if searching for the confession you’re not ready to make a second time.

You subconsciously pick at your nails as the silence seems to stretch the small space between you infinitely. Then, taking a deep, shaky breath, you break it. “If this is about the other night, we can just forget it.”

“Did you mean what you said?” He asks quickly, sternly, voice laced with a tone that tells you there’s no correct answer to the next question. “About liking me?” 

You hold his gaze for a while, trying to make out the emotion his brown orbs hide, but to no avail. So you lower your eyes before slowly nodding your head yes – and with each passing second in silence, the air only seems to thicken with tension.

“We should stop whatever this is,” he says with an unfamiliar coldness, as if he’s trying to prove there’s no room for argument – as if the lack of an answer wasn’t the answer already. And although meeting your expectation, the words still hit you like a punch to the gut, causing your head to snap up to look at him again, only to find nothing of the usual softness on his face.

You open your mouth to respond, but the words get stuck in your throat, clogging your airways until it feels hard to breathe. Jake’s eyes flicker down to his hands, observing his bruised knuckles, before he brings them back up and locks them with yours. 

“If you want more than this, we should stop,” he repeats matter of factly, eyes never leaving yours. “I can’t be the guy you need, much less deserve. I’m not gonna take you on nice dates or be there for you on call. It took me years getting to where I am now, and I’ll work harder to get where I want to be. I can’t do it halfway, Y/n. And I won’t choose you over boxing.”

“You should have thought about that before you started to act like my boyfriend.”

Jake’s eyes widen slightly at your words. He looks at you for a while, a hint of tension in his jaw, until he visibly gulps and lowers his gaze. “I didn’t mean to–”

“Oh, you didn’t?” Your interruption makes his eyes snap back to you, the sarcastic undertone in your voice drawing his brows together. “I thought you were sure when you started all this, my bad.”

“Listen, I wasn’t trying to mess with you,” Jake replies, the slight tremble in his voice mirroring the one in his hand as he runs it through his hair, pushing back some strands that fall right over his eyes again the second he lets go. 

“It just didn’t feel that casual to me,” you mumble, unsure if he hears, or if you even meant for him to. 

But his eyes widen again, a wave of something similar to panic washing over his face. “It wasn’t casual,” he defends, almost stumbling over his own words from how fast he spits them out. And for a second, you allow a spring of hope to bloom in your chest, allow yourself to breathe – until his words snatch the air away from you once more.

“I just can’t give you more.”

You look at him, eyes boring into his as if you could find a glimmer of something else behind them. Something that tells you he doesn’t mean it, that he’ll change his mind. But he stays silent, just holding eye contact for a moment before breaking away from it.

“Right,” you say quietly, but Jake still catches the way your voice cracks a little, and he swears his heart does the same when you continue, “you could just give me enough until I slept with you.”

“Huh?” He exclaims almost a little too loudly, taking a step forward to reach out to you, simply because he lacks ideas of what else to do – but you quickly step back, eyes shooting up to his in a way that tells him to keep his distance.

“Y/n, that’s not true.”

“Well, the shoe fits,” you reply, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

He shakes his head, clenching his hands into fists to refrain from reaching out again. “That’s not true,” he repeats.

“If it wasn’t casual, what was it then?”

Your question comes quietly, but surprisingly stable. You hold Jake’s eyes, even when your throat starts burning from how tight it feels and you really want to look away just to hide the tears that you feel pricking at your eyes. But you don’t have to, because Jake is the first to look away, eyes wandering to the side to look right past you and thinning his lips as though keeping them sealed.

“Okay. Got it.”

And with that, you open the front door again and tilt your head toward it to wordlessly signal him to leave.

“Dude,” Sunghoon groans frustratedly as Jake barely dodges another punch the younger throws at him. “You’re slower than a sloth,” he continues, but Jake doesn’t reply – just stumbles back a step to avoid another hit.

“That girl still taking up all your focus?”

Jake’s eyes dart up immediately, eyebrows pulling together and lips parting ever so slightly, yet he doesn’t say a word. Instead, he steps forward, aiming for his friend’s ribs. Blocking the blow with his arm, Sunghoon’s lips curl up to a grin that tells Jake he’s simply trying to get any type of reaction from him.

“The one you were desperately trying to reach a few weeks ago, if you remember,” he clarifies unnecessarily, voice laced with mocking innocence, as if Jake could have forgotten who he means. 

“We’re not talking anymore,” he replies finally, voice tight enough to show he’s not willing to talk about it.

“But you’re thinking about her, aren’t you?” Sunghoon presses with another question that earns him a quick but sharp punch to the gut instead of an answer. He winces at first, but the initial cough from the air being pushed out of his lungs violently soon turns into an amused chuckle.

“Take that as a yes,” he mumbles before collecting himself and standing up straight despite the dull pain in his stomach. “Then she must have been really clingy. Or a really good fuck.”

Jake clenches his jaw tightly, the line between his brows deepening further. “Stop speaking about her like that.”

“You didn’t deny it,” Sunghoon replies, not even trying to hide the grin on his face as he watches Jake practically imploding.

“Shut up,” he growls, “that’s not how it was.”

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow, replacing his  teasing look with a more serious one. “How was it then?”

Jake’s face slowly relaxes, the tension disappearing little by little until there’s nothing left of it. He opens his mouth, closes it, and repeats the process once more before he slowly lowers his gaze to the floor and takes a deep breath.

“I don’t know. Good. She felt good to be around. Calming, if that makes sense. She seemed comfortable and just herself with me, and…” 

Sunghoon doesn’t reply, just hums to tell the older to keep going.

“I’m probably making that up, but I think sometimes she smiled a bit more when I was around and then my heart did that thing and it made me want to make her smile forever?”

“And how did you mess up?”

The question causes Jake to look up again, cluelessly blinking at his friend.

“You said you’re not talking anymore,” Sunghoon continues, “but it sounds like she really liked you. So: How did you mess up?”

“She does like me!” Jake exclaims so quickly he almost stumbles over his own words. “Or… did. I don’t know. I told her I can’t give her more than that and she got it all wrong, talking about how I could give her just enough until she slept with me and–”

“Woah, hold on,” Sunghoon interrupts with one hand held up, “I know you’re not an asshole, why are you acting like one?”

Jake doesn’t reply at first, just replays his friend’s question over and over in his mind.

“I just… look, she deserves the world, okay? And I’m just so caught up in boxing, and I need to focus if I wanna go pro.”

Again, Sunghoon’s eyebrow shoots up. “She ‘deserves the world’, so you go give her nothing? Doesn’t sound logical to me.”

“But making this professional has been my goal for years and–”

“I know. Did she make you choose?”

Jake hesitates, then slowly shakes his head.

“So you just freaked out.”

“I didn’t freak out.”

“I’ve known you for years now, and as your friend I feel entitled to tell you that 99% of the time you’re the epitome of freaking out,” Sunghoon deadpans. “Do you have feelings for her?”

Jake gives Sunghoon a look that somehow says everything  and nothing at once, and it’s just enough for the younger to understand.

“You’re in love with her.”

Jake hesitates, holding his breath for just a second, before pushing the air out with a sigh. Then, he slowly nods. “I am.”

“Then why’d you drop her, dumbass?” Sunghoon asks, throwing his head back with exaggerated frustration. But Jake just slips through the ropes of the ring and rips off his gloves – completely oblivious to the fact that, just around the corner, with his words echoing in your mind, you’re holding a little tighter onto the shirt you intended to give back to him. 

Diploma in one hand, you wince at the pain in your heels as you slowly push through the crowd of people. You’re almost at the exit, eager to catch some fresh air after what felt like hours of ceremony, when a soft tap on your shoulder makes you turn around. And suddenly the noise around you fades, as though the world stopped for a moment.

You look at Jake, his own diploma in one hand and a small bouquet of flowers in the other, and your breath catches in your throat when he slowly reaches out to hand it to you. Goosebumps erupt on your hand, shooting up your arm and down your spine, when his fingers softly brush yours as you hesitantly take the flowers from his hand.

“Congratulations,” Jake mumbles so quietly you don’t catch it, just reading it off his lips. He wants to tell you that he knew you’d make it, that he’s proud of you, that he hopes you’re proud of yourself, too. That he misses you to a point where it hurts, and that just seeing you again made his heart skip several beats. But the words stay on the tip of his tongue, slowly evaporating into thin air with every second he doesn’t get them out.

“Congrats to you too. Didn’t think you’d graduate, given you don’t have time for Plan B,” you manage, although the words taste bitter, feel forced, and make Jake gulp visibly. But he notices the soft look on your face, the apology in your eyes that contrasts the harsh tone of your voice, and he knows that you’re not really trying to hurt him – just trying to protect yourself from getting hurt first. 

He stays silent for a while, pulling his lower lip between his teeth, and releasing it again before responding. “Well, someone once told me that getting beat up for my dreams isn’t a solid career plan.”

Before you can help it, the corners of your lips twitch just a little, barely enough for Jake to see the faintest hint of a smile. 

“Oh, and you listened to that someone?”

“Only ‘cause that someone is special… and definitely not Plan B,” he says with a shrug that looks way too forced to make it appear casual. 

You absentmindedly tighten your grip around the flowers, wanting to snap back a reply to hide that the walls you’ve been building around yourself aren’t so stable after all – but your mind blanks. 

And Jake swears he would take the snarkiest remark, but your silence and the insecure look on your face makes his chest tighten uncomfortably.

“Anyway, you should go celebrate with your family and–”

“They didn’t come,” you interrupt with a shake of your head.

“Huh?” He surprisedly raises his eyebrows.

“My family didn’t make it. Too much work, or no flights, or whatever,” you shrug, slightly shifting from one foot to the other as if that could loosen the tension you feel creeping up your spine.

“Do you wanna join mine?” He blurts out before he can stop himself. “It’s… nothing fancy, just dinner. You should come.”

This time, it’s your eyebrows that shoot up. “Excuse me?”

“You should come.”

For a while, you just look at him. Take in the hint of hope on his face, the way he slightly raises his eyebrows in anticipation, and the way he starts fumbling with the diploma in his hand. And you try hard to ignore how your chest warms at the simple habit of his that somehow makes you realize just how much you missed him. 

“Did you mean it?” The words come out before you think about it, surprising both of you.

Jake furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “What? Of course. You shouldn’t be alone today.”

“No, I mean… Did you mean it when you said you were in love with me?”

You watch as his eyes widen and his adam’s apple pops up and down as he gulps. He opens his mouth, but you beat him to it. “I was going to return your shirt, and I guess I overheard your conversation. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, you guys just don’t know how to talk in normal volume.”

Jake looks at you with a face that doesn’t quite give away what he’s thinking – something like a strange mix of shock, relief, and uncertainty. Face paling, he waits and waits for the realization to settle, searches for things to say, but suddenly it feels like he lost all the words he once knew.

“I… Yeah, I meant it,” he begins slowly. “I didn’t realize it before– I mean, honestly, I did. I knew I liked you, but–”

“You freaked out,” you interrupt, trying to imitate Sunghoon’s tone of voice, but you can’t help the hint of sadness coating your words.

Jake reciprocates your half-smile for a second, then he nods with a sigh.

“I did freak out. Listen, I’m sorry for the way I left things, and I know sorry isn’t gonna make it better magically, but…” He trails off and lowers his head. “You mean a lot more to me than I showed you, and I’d like to prove that to you at least today.”

You gulp as if that could help you get rid of the lump that has been forming in your throat the second you turned around and faced him. And despite it getting only harder to breathe when his eyes find yours, you don’t look away this time. Instead, you let his gaze steal the air from your lungs little by little as you keep searching for the slightest hint of insincerity. But even as seconds turn into what feels like an eternity, you find nothing that makes you doubt he means it. So you slowly nod.

“Fine. But only ‘cause I really want dinner,” you give in, and although you try to sound stern, you can’t help but mirror Jake when his lips curl up just a little.

When Jake introduces you to his family, you learn that he’s been talking about you – ‘once or twice’, according to him, and ‘the entire fucking time’, according to his brother. Your eyes shoot to Jake, who just scratches his neck sheepishly, but the honesty in his look makes it hard for you to really shrug it off. 

He stays close to you throughout the entire evening. Wherever you’re walking, his hand hovers over the small of your back just enough to prove he’s there without really touching you – and during dinner he sits next to you, perfectly distanced for your legs to not brush against each other’s but so you can still feel the warmth of his body. And although his family includes you into the conversation just perfectly, he occasionally nudges your shoulder and looks at you with a questioning look to make sure you feel okay.

When you bid goodbye to his parents and brother later that night, you’re so busy thinking about how oddly comfortable you feel, that you don’t notice how Jake struggles to hide the oh so evident adoration in his eyes. The need to keep you close. But he swears that even if you decide you never want to see him again after this night, the soft smile on your face is enough for him, as long as he was the one who painted it there.

He insists on walking you up to your apartment, hand itching to reach for yours, but he quickly shoves it in the pocket of his dress pants. Once you stand in front of your door, you hesitate to look for your key. Instead, you turn around to face him.

“Thank you for inviting me,” you say quietly, offering him a tiny smile that he immediately reciprocates. 

“Thank you for coming with me,” he replies so gently your knees almost buckle just at that.

“Well, I told you I really wanted dinner,” you try to joke, but your voice sounds far more charged. Jake smiles nonetheless.

For a while, you just stand there, looking at him without feeling like you’re drowning. You can almost see it on his face how he wants to take a step closer, but refuses to give in to it. And despite everything, you’re the one to do that instead. Jake’s breath flattens as he looks down to you, wanting nothing more than to close the distance between you, but he doesn’t move – doesn’t back away either when you slowly bring your hands up to his jacket and pull him down until your lips almost touch.

He gulps as he reaches for your waist with shaky hands to pull you in more, trying to ignore the way his heart skips a beat once he feels your body against his. And when you slowly angle your head up to close whatever distance was left between you, the goosebumps that erupt on his body almost make him shudder. His fingers dig into your waist softly, almost like he’s trying to remind himself that you’re real, while his lips gently move against yours in a way that makes you feel like he never left. 

Nearly overwhelmed by the feeling, you allow yourself to melt into his touch until you slowly, almost reluctantly, pull away for air. Jake’s breath brushes your lips as he gently rests his forehead against yours, eyes still closed.

“Fuck, I’m so in love with you,” he mutters, not even registering the words until he said them. 

When he feels you tensing just slightly, he quickly takes a step back. “Sorry, I–... You don’t have to say it back, I just– sorry I shouldn’t have said that,” he stumbles over his own words, only stopping his ramble when you take a step forward again and tenderly place one hand on his chest. Then, you curl your fingers around the fabric of his shirt just enough to pull him in again. 

You kiss him so softly it proves not only that you feel the same, but also that you’re not yet ready to really tell him again. That you want to let him in, but still make sure he keeps one foot out the door. And for now, that’s enough for Jake. 

His touch is gentle when his hands cup your face, thumbs carefully sweeping over your cheeks as he pulls away the second time.

“You mean a lot to me, Y/n,” he confesses, intentionally this time, steadily, although his voice shakes a bit. “I’m sorry I ever made you think otherwise.”

Your heart squeezes not only at his words, but the way they feel more genuine than anything he’s ever told you before. And you can’t help the soft smile when you look right into his eyes again and find nothing but endearment and honesty.

“You did prove that to me today,” you mumble, smiling a little brighter at the evident relief on his face.

“Will you let me prove it again?” He asks tentatively, the glimmer of hope in his voice making you chuckle softly.

“I’ll see.”

© dazzlingjaeyun, 2025. please do not copy.

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[thalwri]

I HATE YOU, BUT I LOVE YOU!

synopsis: your friends think caleb's got a bit of an obsession over you since he's always by your side. what they don't know is that you're equally as obsessed. and you'll go to very extreme lengths to ensure everyone knows that he is yours.

warnings: porn no plot, heavy smut, shower sex, orgasm denial, inappropriate evol usage, body worship, making a sex tape, biting, marking (with lipstick and a few hickeys), cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, creampie, needy!caleb, possessive!reader, unhinged!reader, basically, you're matching each others freak. a lot.

wc: 2,4k

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

“you’re mine, caleb,” your whispers pierced his ears like a sharpened knife– the most stimulating sound he had heard in days. “mine. mine to touch, mine to post, mine to please and be pleased by. mine.”

he could only nod, and so he did. frantically and heated with need for you. for access to adore you. 

you had found him in the shower, muscular back turned to you. he had returned home in silence, almost plagued by his own thoughts. though you were deafened by your own mind too. the only difference was that you were infuriated.

you had seen some of his colleagues post pictures of him with them at his annual dinner with the fleet. the captions were provocative at the least, rumbling with desires to touch him in ways only you could, to have privileges only you owned.

they didn’t know him like you did. they didn’t experience everything you two had gone through together. 

so it was only fair for you to remind him of that fact. and show the world that he was only for you.

“i’ll burn and bury anyone who talks to you or even looks at you.” your eyes trailed down from his eyes to his swollen and bite-bruised lips to his neck adorned with fresh love bites. “i should keep you by my side, yeah?”

“yeah, you should,” caleb could only hold himself from getting giddy by this new sight of dominance. he’d rarely seen you behave this intensely with him and he wasn’t afraid to see more.

your hand gripped his, feeling the instantaneous surge of his evol resonating to you. before the surge could fade, with the flick of a wrist, you forced caleb to his knees. the gravity surrounded him alone to keep him at your feet, at your mercy.

he often got a kick at using his evol on you but for the tables to turn like this? he’d cum on the spot. his cock twitched, reddened and swollen by your refusal to give him the attention he needed.

“c-come on,” a loud whine flowed from the depths of his throat. he had been moaning and whining without you even having to touch him. you were feeding off his delicious noises, feeling as though he was egging you on to paint him in your lipstick kisses.

“please, i won’t even let them near me,” his lips found your thigh, pressing wet breathless kisses onto your skin in worship and reverence. “i’ll push them as far as possible and only open my space to you.”

“yeah?” you kneeled down to straddle him, holding his face in your hands. his eyes were swollen from the tears shed by you teasing him to the point where it hurt so much. he just had to beg for you, grovel, and whine. all of it.

“they’d even see that i’m yours.” he panted, lips curving into that beautiful smile you loved. the same smile you hated to see him give to others. he leaned to kiss your skin, peppering your flesh with light nibbles and bites, marking his affections and desire for you.

“we could record it,” his breathless sighs warmed up your dampened neck. “me declaring my heart is yours and broadcasting it for the world to see.”

a short giggle left your lips before you plopped down on his hips, completely filling yourself with his twitching cock. caleb’s eyes– brimming with tears of impatient need– rolled straight back into his head both agonised and delighted by how concerningly tight your pussy was– almost sucking him of everything he had. 

your hips slowly rocked back and forth allowing your nectar to leak out of you and lubricate him for easier movement between you. though you wouldn’t have had a problem with the roughness. 

“maybe i should take a picture of me riding you.” you deepened your grinding to emphasise your point. “i’ll crop out your face, to protect your reputation of course.”

caleb quickly shook his head in a daze– eyes clouded with lust and excitement. was he enjoying this?

“let– let them. let ‘em see me,” he forced a smile to stretch his swollen lips. that was the only thing keeping him from moaning loud enough for the fleet kilometres above to hear. “let ‘em know how weak you make me.”

the slick wetness from you and the now cold shower water kept his grips on your hips painfully tense to the point of indenting bruises. you could just feel his heavy sacks rubbing against your entrance as you squeezed your walls around his girth. every vein, every throb, every single divine twitch did not go unnoticed. 

it was boiling hot. the shower was off and yet the glass walls got so foggy so quickly. your hips slowly dragged up as you adjusted yourself to bounce on his length before you slowly dropped down and up and down in a broken rhythm. 

you so desperate to chase your high and feel him paint your insides, so horny for caleb that it pissed you off even more. and yet, through all that anger, you couldn’t help but adore and admire him beneath you. he looked so serene, so beautiful. how could you not love him?

feeling his cock effortlessly slide in and out of you hitting those delicious sensitive spots felt like pure ecstasy for you. your ass jiggled and clapped as it bounced, slapping his thighs and huge balls, screaming into the deafening silence of the afternoon. 

you caught your lower lip between your teeth to hold off the overwhelming urge to cum all over him at that very moment. just a bit longer. you had to torture him a little bit longer.

“you’re the only one for me,” caleb whined almost like he read the thought directly from your mind. a wide grin graced your pretty, flushed, cock-addicted face as he repeated himself over and over for you to hear and understand him clearly.

“i’m yours. yours. yours.’m gonna prove it any way you need me to.”

and a devilish idea struck your mind mid-bounce. you paused and slowed your pace to grind on his hips, curling his cock deep into you with no chance of him leaving your tight grip– not to mention your soaked pussy (as per usual) had a death grip on him.

you reached to the abandoned towel outside the shower and pulled out your phone, swiftly opening the camera app. caleb’s eyes slowly widened as he realised exactly what you were doing. he exhaled a laugh in disbelief and intrigue as you set the phone down to show you both in the frame without your faces being exposed. 

your finger hovered over the button to record and your grinds came to a halt. your eyes bore into his with complete sternness. “do you want this?”

he didn’t even hesitate. “yeah. show them who i belong to, baby.”

a ring sounded in the bathroom, and your hips returned to its torturous work. you planted your hands over his plump chest and squeezed to feel that muscular, soft flesh. your thumbs brushed over his nipples as drips of sweat and water pebbled from them, drawing a long moan from his lips.

“f-fuck,” he panted. he’d never experience a feeling like that before. they felt so sensitive and sore and yet the pain translated to pure pleasure by the time it reached his cock. it leaked globs of precum deep within you as your tantalising grinds picked up speed and friction.

your lips found their way to the shell of his ear and a wet swipe of your tongue sent shivers down his spine. you were so dominant today. and he was enjoying perhaps a little too much.

“i want you to be louder,” you hissed, nibbling the soft flesh of his ear lobe. “you know you can be.”

“‘m gonna need you to make things rougher for me,” the soft mounds of your pretty ass were caught in his grip, being fondled and massaged as he egged you on, using his strength to lift you up bit by bit until you could plop back down on his cock.

the mere sound of it made him groan, bowing his head to restrain himself. having his hands so comfy on your ass was divine, such a privilege. he pulled you higher and higher until your moans turned to cries. 

his leaky cockhead continuously pounded your spongy, sensitive point, throwing you into a frenzy. your rhythm became erratic, breath laboured and ragged. lines of red scratches marked his torso, victim of your nails painted the exact same colour as his reddened tip. 

your personal nicknames ran from caleb’s lips in a slur, connecting the syllables as if it were a lengthy poem he was reciting to you. his tongue lulled out, dripping strings of his saliva onto your bare chest, creating a sticky mess on you as your tiddies slapped against each other– colliding and changing shape like a malleable pair of heavenly flesh. he couldn’t keep his eyes off them, calling them his favourite melons in his mind– a perverted thought and description, but that was the least of the nasty thoughts he had of you.

“please– oh my god!” his moans quickly turned into whimpers. you couldn’t help but giggle. he was just too cute. 

his tongue ran up your collarbones to your neck until they tickled the corner of your lips to pull you into a lascivious kiss, tongues swirling and dancing in pursuit of getting closer than their bodies could allow. he was addicted to you. he wasn’t afraid to say it with relentless pride.

to be able to please that sweet cunny of yours with his cock, to be able to love and adore you, to live alongside you, that was all the pleasures he had of being yours. and he refused to trade it for anything else. nobody would ever be worth as much as you were to him.

you are his everything.

caleb swiftly lifted you up into his arms, almost using his evol before he remembered you were being recorded together. you yelped as he swung you both around so that you leaned against the wall, back warmed in place of his position. 

he sat on his knees, still holding you by your hips to align his cockhead with your dripping opening. in tempted arousal, he lifted you up to hook your legs on his shoulders, leaving only your ass and legs in view of the frame and his head completely concealed in between.

his hot tongue swiped up and down your folds, teasing its entrance into your hole. teasing you. he relished in your hitched cries and groans, you cursing him and demanding he stop teasing you. somehow it just got him harder that he already was. 

but because he loved you, he conceded and buried his face into your pussy. his nose nudged and tickled your sensitive bud while his tongue explored the mixed taste of his precum and your sweet nectar all stored in your pussy. the flavours blended perfectly. 

his loud, obnoxious slurps and his head occasionally shaking side to side brought you to a tremble, finally drawing that sweet climax out of you with a cute cry.

“ca– cale– oh fuck!” his name almost slipped out of your lips before you could restrain yourself. caleb moaned into your pussy before quickly pulling away to guide you back down to his hips, instantly dropping you onto his cock.

it slipped in so smoothly yet so roughly, sending every sensory signal in you screaming in alarm. too much, too much, my god, too much. 

caleb gripped your ass, kneading his fingers into your flesh, and pounded his hips right up into you. you hiccuped with each thrust, losing composure and falling deeper and deeper into your cockdrunk daze.

“too- too fast–“

“uh-uh,” he breathlessly moaned in your ear, rolling his hips faster and harder into you, so desperate to fill you with his seed. to claim you as you claim him. “you can take it.”

a deep groan rumbled in you making you grip the base of his neck with your hand, slowly squeezing until he gasped– and yet his psychotically fast pace never faltered. 

“i’m sure you can take– fuck– this– mmh– pussy too, huh?” your walls intuitively tightened around his thick, pistoning cock matching the hold you had on his neck. “this is the only pussy you’d worship, yeah?”

“the– only– one.” he gasped as he choked out his words. you were tempted to call him a good boy. despite the overwhelming entanglement of overstimulation and pure delight that caleb fucking you through and straight past your orgasm gave you, you were just so insatiably greedy for more.

“you wanna cum, yeah?” you crooned, wrapping your arms around his neck. you thought you had begun to taste a new degree of pleasure with caleb in that very position. 

“wanna make you cum again,” he said. a loud smack! resonated as a delicious sting spread around your ass cheek. “mmh, wanna cum in you so fucking bad.”

“then do it.”

and that he did. almost like it was on command– with a final harsh thrust, hot ribbons painted your walls like paint falling right onto the canvas. it was so hot, and creamy that the sting of his heat left you in near shambles.

there was just so much spilling into you that it spurted out of your pussy with each slowing jut of his hips. his mouth mumbled on, rambling i love you, i love you, i love you like a prayer and oath. even as he pulled out, cum still spurted out of his slit, painting the shower walls white with lust and satisfaction while the recording still ran, abandoned by both of you.

“you think you can let those people prance around you while knowing i am all you need?” choked gasps fill the air as your grip on his neck tightens. “no caleb. you don’t have that right.”

he merely nodded with a smile. “ ‘m all yours, my love. my eyes, my heart, my body, and my soul are only for you.”

now, caleb has experienced a great many terrifying things in his lifetime. a great many things. but you? you were an endless galaxy he would spend eternity exploring. all your complexities and charms just waiting for him to perceive. 

your peers had believed he was insane. clingy. obsessed. but they didn’t know you could be much, much, worse. and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

a/n: I've been listening to too much Tyler, the Creator. Also, this was inspired by one of @/cruxifixe 's works on tiktok

[jj-one]

STUDY HARD, GET EDGED HARDER!

this is smut, do not interact if under 18

jisung’s trying to finish this code, but the minute you sat on his lap, he knew the only thing getting finished today was him.

pairing: nerd!han jisung x popular!f!reader, established relationship genre/tags: college au, smut with very little plot, semi-public s*x, sub!jisung, he whines and begs a lot (how i like my men tbh), thigh riding, overstim, light degradation, handjob, orgasm denial, oral (m. receiving), cum eating words: 5.2k

[ note. ] — another jisung fic, are we surprised ?? (no.) it’s the way this was supposed to be under 2-3k but clearly i’m incapable of writing anything short sooo..

He checked his phone sixteen times within the past hour. At first, Jisung told himself it was fine, you were in class, you needed to focus, you were probably taking notes or doodling a series of hearts in the margins of your planner like you always did. But now it was 2:34 pm and he was one ‘are you mad at me?’ text away from losing his goddamn mind.

Usually, you’d text him the second class was over. A little “miss you” here, a blurry selfie there, a not-so-subtle thirst trap when he least expected it, something to let him know you were thinking about him. But today? Nothing. Not since that teasing message you sent earlier at 11:47 am:

you left a hickey above my bra strap, you menace ;(

i’m wearing a tank top. if anyone asks i’m blaming it on a curling iron burn.

That had launched him into a full-body crisis in the middle of Comp Sci lecture. Now he was half-hard, suffering from sleep deprivation, and trying to tackle three weeks’ worth of broken functions with his already fried brain— while simultaneously spiraling over why you hadn’t texted him again yet.

Which brings us to his current dilemma.

The library’s unusually quiet for a Thursday afternoon, except for the faint rustles of pages turning and the occasional exasperated sighs from stressed out students spread throughout the space.

Jisung sat tucked into the farthest corner, wearing a slightly oversized hoodie with the sleeves bunched up to his elbows, staring blankly at the same lines of code on his laptop. He’d been stuck in the same recursive function that kept crashing his entire program— something about an ‘undefined base case’, but he couldn’t focus long enough to fix it. The error messages meant nothing when all he could think about was the flash of your thighs in that skirt you’d been wearing this morning.

And across from him, not helping even a little, was Jeongin, who was currently detailing the world’s most cursed porn plot with way too much enthusiasm.

“So then the girl just spits on it like it’s no big deal and starts- bro, are you even listening?”

Jisung snaps out of his trance, looking up too fast. “Huh?”

Jeongin rolls his eyes, shaking his head, “knew you weren’t listening.”

“I was,” he lied, voice slightly cracking, and it only made Jeongin raise an eyebrow and gesture pointedly toward his friend’s phone, which lit up for the third time in under a minute.

Jisung snatched it up before even checking the name, heart already doing backflips.

sungie, where are youuu

i’m done with class and i’m boredd, wanna see you

He was now internally screaming. If Jeongin wasn’t here right now he’d be kicking his feet and giggling like a school girl right now. But instead he tries to keep his composure, though he’s failing miserably.

He swallows thickly, ears immediately turning red as he reads your message over and over. Recollections from last night were now running through his head, the mental image of your body under his, breathy moans in his ear, the feeling of your lips on his neck— it was burned into his memory forever.

Jisung’s brain short-circuited. His heart launched itself straight into his throat. And his dick? Yeah, it had ideas..

Jeongin tilts his head, catching the panicked expression on Jisung’s face. “Dude,” he muttered, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. “Just go meet up with her already. You’re useless like this.”

“I’m not useless,” Jisung said defensively, even as his fingers fumbled to type out a reply with hands that were very much trembling. “I’m trying to debug this stupid loop!”

“You’re trying to not bust a nut thinking about her,” Jeongin deadpanned. “You’ve copy-pasted the same broken function like six times in ten minutes. I’m still confused how you even managed to bag the hottest girl on campus.”

“I didn’t bag her,” Jisung mumbled, his face growing hot once again. “She… likes me.”

“No shit she likes you. She owns you.” Jeongin pointed at the now purplish-red bruise on Jisung’s neck. “That’s a leash, not a love bite.”

“Stop talking, I’m trying to finish this code.”

Jeongin leaned across the table, squinting at his screen. “You haven’t written a single working line in the past thirty minutes. The cursor’s been blinking in the same empty function this whole time. You typed ‘y/n’ in the comment section of your code, and then drew a dick in ASCII next to it. You know damn well you’re not debugging anything except your feelings.”

Jisung groaned loudly as he slumps forward, his forehead hitting the keyboard with a soft ‘thud’. “She just- she’s distracting, okay?”

“She’s not even here right now.”

“She lives rent free in my head.”

“You pay her rent,” Jeongin quickly corrected, “with your dignity.”

Jisung barely had time to fire back before his phone buzzed again. His posture instantly straightens, reaching for his phone like it contained the meaning of life.

so why haven’t you kissed me today? why do you hate me?

He wheezed. “She thinks I hate her—!”

“You’re literally wearing the hoodie she gave you,” Jeongin cuts in dryly. “You made her a playlist last night called ‘songs that remind me of her moaning.’ She’s obviously fucking with you, bro.”

Jisung was only half-listening, already typing like his life depended on it.

i’m in the library, baby. i thought u had another class??

also i don’t hate u i’m OBSESSED w u

Your reply came not even a minute later.

mhm. obsessed? prove it. where exactly in the library are u?

He froze, looking up like a deer caught in headlights.

Jeongin didn’t even flinch. “Don’t panic,” he responds flatly, reaching for a pretzel stick. “Just give her your location and accept your fate.”

Jisung completely ignores him, fingers moving fast, typing out a rushed response that was borderline devotional.

back left corner by the windows. alone. i mean, with jeongin. but like mostly alone.

u coming?

depends.. are you gonna leave me another hickey this time or nah?

He slammed his forehead against the table.

“You good?” Jeongin asked casually, chewing on his pretzel like his friend wasn’t in the middle of a full-blown mental breakdown.

“No,” Jisung mumbled into the wood. “I’m gonna die right here. On this table. Tell my computer I love her.”

“Death by horny girlfriend.” Jeongin chuckled, “you’d be the third one this semester.”

Jisung turned his face, still smushed against the table, eyes glazed with academic doom. “I’m so gonna fail this exam..”

“You’re gonna fail life if she sits on your lap again and you cream your pants in front of me.”

Jisung glared. “I didn’t cream my pants last time.”

“You moaned when she kissed your jaw, bro. Out loud. In public..”

“It was a low moan.”

“A moan is a moan, my guy.”

Before Jisung could argue back, he receives yet another message.

look up, dummy.

His entire body went rigid, hands hovering midair, pupils dilating like a cat spotting a nearby predator.

“Bro?” Jeongin asked, watching the color drain from his face.

“She’s here,” Jisung whispered. “Oh my god, she’s actually here.”

And just like that, his palms were sweating. His heart beating abnormally fast as if a bomb was about to go off in his chest. He knew what was to came next. You were going to strut over here in something tiny, say something filthy, and sit in his lap like you owned both the chair and the man in it.

Jeongin turned just in time to see you coming.

“Oh nope. Nope.” He grabbed his stuff immediately, like a man narrowly avoiding trauma. “I’m not third-wheeling this lap dance sequel. I’ll be in the café. If I’m not back in an hour, it’s because I died of secondhand embarrassment.”

Jisung was still trying to stammer out something when Jeongin patted him on the shoulder with mock sympathy and left him for dead.

You were in a tiny black pleated skirt that flared when you walked, paired with a white, paper-thin tank, barely clinging to your frame. The outline of your lace bralette clearly visible beneath it under the warm library lighting. Your lips were glossy— glistening with that pink shimmer you knew drove him crazy, a hint of eyeliner, and that signature flirty sparkle in your eye made Jisung forget his own name, and why he ever thought he could handle you.

His mouth slightly parted as you spotted him and waved with a little grin that caused him to hold his breath. Every guy in the vicinity turned to look. Of course they did. You looked like you’d walked straight off the cover of a playboy magazine.

Except you weren’t paying attention to anyone else, walking straight towards him— past the tables, past all the stares, and before he could even think to slide over and offer the empty seat next to him, you climbed right onto his lap like you belonged there.

You casually slung your arm over his shoulders, settling against him like it was a normal day and you’d done it a hundred times before. Your thighs framed his, the sweet scent of your perfume clouding his senses while the softness of your chest against his front made him see static.

“Hi, baby,” you leaned it, trailing your fingers along the edge of his jaw. “You looked like you were missing me.”

“I-I uh-” He blinked rapidly, trying to process literally anything. “You’re- you-”

You couldn’t help but giggle at how much of a nervous wreck he was, but kept teasing him anyway. “Use your words, handsome.”

“You’re wearing that.”

You raised a brow, wide-eyed, feigning innocence. “This?”

Shifting slightly on his lap to get more comfy, your hips tilted just enough for your warmth to press more directly against the growing tent in his jeans. His soul left his body once again.

“I was gonna sit in the chair,” you said, glancing lazily at the empty seat beside him, “but you looked so cute and lonely over here. So serious. So tense.”

“I am tense,” he squeaked.

“You wanna know why?” he added quickly. “Because you’re literally sitting on me in the middle of a public—”

Your fingers slid into his hair, playing with the strands at the nape of his neck. “You don’t want me to sit here anymore?”

Jisung’s hands flew to your waist without realizing, fingers splayed against the thin material of your top like he was trying to will himself into self-control. “No- I mean, yes- I mean- I love when you sit here.. but—”

“But?” You echoed sweetly, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“People are looking,” he hissed through clenched teeth, heat blooming all the way to his ears. “Everyone’s looking. I-I can feel my GPA dropping just from this. My professor probably sensed it through the air.”

You didn’t seem fazed at all by his comments, letting your nose brush his cheek. “Let them look. You’re my boyfriend. I wanna show off what’s mine.”

He whimpered— actually whimpered. In the middle of the damn library.

You were just smiling, completely calm, perfectly poised, one hand lazily tracing the edge of his hoodie while your weight shifted subtly again, your thigh dragging ever so gently across his cock, already painfully hard beneath you.

You weren’t even grinding that hard.

You didn’t have to.

Because his sanity’s already slowly unraveling.

“Y/n…” he whispered, barely coherent. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“I barely did anything yet.”

“That’s the problem..”

You looked down at him, lips curved into something wicked. “You’re such a dork.”

He huffed, letting his head fall back against the seat.

“But you’re my dork,” you added, embedding a kiss to his cheek and then his temple. “My cute, squirmy, overstimulated little dork.”

“I’m not overstimulated.”

“You’re rock hard.”

“I’m emotionally vulnerable.”

You cackled. Loud enough for a student at the next table over to side-eye you, which you promptly ignored.

Jisung, meanwhile, tried to slowly roll his hips under you, praying to all gods that no one could tell how close he was to combusting. Your thighs were so soft. Warm. You smelled like vanilla and something sinfully feminine. The way you sat on him like nothing was happening, like your soaked panties weren’t dragging back and forth over the flexed muscle of his thigh— made his whole body lock up.

“If you’re this worked up now…” you murmured, voice sultry and featherlight, “…how are you gonna survive when I ride you later?”

His eyes rolled back.

A shaky breath punched from his chest. He choked on it, hands gripping your waist even tighter as his legs jerked beneath the table.

You pulled back just slightly to watch him come undone with a satisfied little smirk. “Color’s back in your cheeks. Must be working.”

“I’m begging you,” he croaked, “please just let me finish this. I need to pass this class.”

You thread your fingers up into his hair again, tugging gently at his roots. “Mm. If you get an A, I’ll let you do whatever you want to me. Desk. Mirror. Kitchen table. You name it.”

Jisung whimpered again.

Someone coughed in the next aisle. You didn’t care.

He tried to keep his cool. He really did. But when your lips would brush up against his ear, and your fingers slipped just slightly beneath his hoodie to rest on his bare skin, he knew he was beyond the point of no return.

You stayed perched on his lap, the model of calm— like you had no idea what you were doing to him. Like his cock wasn’t straining in his jeans so hard he thought he might pass out. His jaw was tight, lips bitten red, and his entire body’s trembling with effort.

The worst part of it all was how deliberately slow your hips circled over his thigh. It was so subtle. Calculated. The tiniest roll forward, just enough to let your clothed core drag across the curve of his thigh. Not bouncing. Not humping. Just that slow, lazy grind of slick heat over denim— completely hidden from view beneath the table.

“Shhh,” you muttered, completely unaffected. “Thought you wanted to finish your code?”

He was trying to finish this script. He really was. But the lines of code on his screen were blurring together, his glasses fogged-up and slipping down his nose. He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, stifling a noise he didn’t even recognize.

“I-” he gasped, the only thing anchoring him being the white-knuckle grip he had on the edge of his laptop. “I can’t think like this-”

“Like what?” You asked, lips brushing his jaw as your hips picked up it’s pace. “Like your girlfriend’s grinding her needy little cunt on your leg while you’re trying to finish your sad excuse of a Python script?”

He bucks into you helplessly. His cock throbbing in utter desperation. His jeans were already soaked. You were soaked. The cotton clinging between your folds as warmth spread across your thighs like wildfire. His thigh pressed perfectly against your cunt with every slow grind, grazing over the sensitive bud just right.

Jisung clenched his jaw, eyes fluttering shut. He could feel it. The outline of you. The mess you were making on him. The sharp, desperate ache in his cock that had him this close to snapping. The denim of his jeans felt tight, unbearably tight, and every shift of your hips sent him teetering over the edge.

“H-holy shit, y/n…” Jisung’s voice cracks, sharp and frayed. “You’re so wet. I can feel it through- fuck- through everything.”

“Mmh?” You hum softly, “what was that, baby? Speak up.”

“You know what,” he whined. His thigh twitched again, and you seized the opportunity to grind harder, dragging your soaked center over the thick muscle.

“You’re gonna get us caught,” he hissed, looking around uncomfortably. “You’re seriously gonna.. I can’t, baby—”

“No one’s looking,” you interrupted calmly, your hot breath fanning over his neck, fingers curling into the back of his hair like a gentle command. “Unless you make them look. Unless you start moaning like a little slut who can’t control himself while his girlfriend gets off on his leg.”

“I’m not-” He swallowed, but his voice was weak. Broken. “I’m not a slut.”

“No?” You mocked, your voice all honey and knives. “Then why’re you twitching every time I say something filthy? Why are you leaking through your boxers when I haven’t even touched your cock?”

He let out another pitiful sound.

“Please,” he begged. “Please, I’ll do anything. Anything, just let me cum, please. I can’t- fuck- I can’t take it anymore.”

The way he looked up at you, all teary-eyed and trembling, it sending a rush of heat pooling to your core. His cheeks were flushed a baby pink, lips slightly parted, chest heaving like he’d just run five miles. Your good boy— smart, nerdy, sweet Jisung— reduced to a desperate, needy mess just from the way you were riding his thigh in public like it was your seat.

“You’d do anything for me?” You asked, rolling your hips again, slowly, letting your clit drag perfectly over the seam of his jeans.

His hands spasmed on your legs.

“Yes,” he gasped. “Yes, please. I’d do anything- I’ll get on my knees right now, I’ll eat you out under this table if you let me. I’ll fucking worship you, y/n, just pleaseplease let me cum—”

Your lips curled into a smirk. “You sound so pathetic,” you scoffed. “So needy. And all I did was sit on you.”

He nodded frantically, his breathing ragged.

“I am pathetic. I know I am. I can’t help it, ’m so obsessed with you. I think about you all the time. I jerk off thinking about you sitting on my face. I came in my hand the other night just imagining you calling me your good boy.”

You clenched at that.

“Oh, baby,” you cooed. “You’re so fucked up.”

You spread your knees a little more over his leg so you could rock harder, now deliberately dragging your wet pussy over the wet patch of denim he’d soaked through. Tensing up as he fought not to move, to grind up into you like he wanted.

His breath came in short, silent bursts now. Chest rising and falling beneath you, lips parted, sweat beading at his brow.

“Y/n…” he breathed, trying so hard to sound composed, but nearly sobbing from how fucking good it felt.

“What is it, baby?” You bat your lashes at him, hips rocking forward again. “You’re not gonna cum in your jeans, are you?”

His entire body shivered.

“I-I will,” he stuttered. “I swear, if you don’t stop.. mmph, ‘m already so close, you’re- your pussy’s so wet—”

You leaned in slowly, lips grazing over the shell of his ear. “If you cum now…”

He gasped, throat catching on the first syllable.

“…you’re not fucking me later.”

His breathing stopped.

You pulled back just enough to see the panic settle in his eyes.

“You hear me, Ji? If you cum in your pants like a desperate little virgin, I’m walking out of here and locking my legs until next week.”

“I want you to feel how wet I am for you,” you whispered. “I want your thigh soaked. I want your cock leaking. But you don’t get to cum unless I say so.”

Jisung was panting now. He was actually trembling— not shaking, not twitching— trembling, like he was barely surviving.

“Y/nnn,” he whined. “This isn’t fair.. ’m not gonna make it.”

“You will,” you said, rolling your hips harder, dragging the mess between your thighs across the thick ridge of his leg again. “You will because you want to fuck me. You wanna cum inside me, don’t you?”

He groaned, mouth agape, eyes half-lidded and glazed over.

“Yes,” he pleaded. “God.. yes.”

You rewarded him with one more slow grind, your drenched panties catching perfectly on your clit— and it took everything in him not to buck up or spill into his boxers right then and there.

He almost disobeyed. Almost gave in. But somehow by some miracle of sheer desperation and willpower, he held back. Barely. Just barely.

You could feel him clenching under you. His cock twitching behind the zipper, leaking so much precum he’d made a dark patch on his jeans, mixing with the slick you’d left behind.

“You’re so good for me,” you praised, pressing light kisses against his jaw. “Sitting still, letting me use you. You’re so close, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he strained. “I can’t take it anymore, please—”

You smiled against his skin, kissed him again, then pulled back.

“Then come with me.”

His eyes widened. “W-What?”

You stood up, skirt fluttering down your thighs, straightening your tank top like you weren’t dripping down his leg seconds ago.

“Archives section.” You whispered, voice honeyed and commanding.

And just like that, Jisung— flushed, throbbing, soaked, and desperately blue-balled, let you pull him through the rows of books, already dizzy with the promise of what’s to come next.

+

Jisung’s wrist was still pulsing with warmth from where you grabbed him, dragging him down two flights of stairs with no explanation and zero resistance. He followed like a lost puppy, notebook half-open, backpack swinging awkwardly behind him as you led him past the “ARCHIVES ONLY” sign and into a forgotten aisle of books no one under 65 had ever touched.

The hallway past the microfilm cabinets was barely lit, tucked behind a wall of outdated journals and abandoned thesis papers. No one ever came back here. The security camera hadn’t worked in months and you knew that because you checked the first week you started fooling around with Jisung in public. It was the perfect spot for what you had in mind.

His hoodie was crooked. His hair was a mess. His jeans were stained — not enough to be obvious to anyone else, but you saw the evidence of your slick and his precum smeared across the thigh you’d just used like your personal toy minutes ago.

His eyes were blown wide. Glazed. Wild with the kind of desperate frustration that came from being edged and denied so thoroughly he could barely think. Your skirt was still slightly rumpled and your lip gloss a little smeared like you planned it. You looked wrecked in the prettiest way and he couldn’t stop staring.

You gently pushed him up against the bookshelf, meeting the cold tiles as you dropped to your knees, looking up at him with the sweetest, filthiest smile he’d ever seen.

“W-What are you doing?” He blinked like rapid fire, turning into an even blushier mess. “Wait- wait, are you—?”

Without a word, you reached down and pulled his jeans further open, just enough to free his cock. It sprang up against his stomach— angry red at the tip, twitching, wet with a fresh bead of precum leaking from the slit.

“Ohh, Ji,” you cooed, brushing your thumb across the tip, smearing the slick mess down his shaft. “You really are about to cum, huh?”

“Y-Yeah,” he choked, breath hitching as his needy hips jerked into your hand. “Please touch me, ‘m so fucking close—”

“I am touching you,” you teased, wrapping your fingers around him slowly, deliberately. “What, not good enough?”

He let out a ragged moan, head thunking back against the wall.

Your grip tightened just enough. Your fist started moving slowly, not enough to bring him over, but enough to torment him. Just enough to keep him right there, on the edge, nerves strung taut like piano wire.

“F-Fuck, that’s—” he gasped, hips stuttering. “That’s so good.. please, faster. Baby, please—”

You smiled while looking up at him. “You begging already?”

He whined, high-pitched and wrecked, his hands twitching like he didn’t know where to put them, like if he touched you, he’d explode.

“I’ll do anything,” he whispered. “Just let me cum- I’ll eat you out for hours, I swear- please y/n—”

You tightened your grip and gave a long, twisting stroke that made his whole body jerk.

“Mm-mm,” you hummed. “Didn’t I say you don’t get to cum unless I say so?”

His hips bucked wildly into your fist. “I’m trying,” he moaned. “I’m trying so hard, but it feels so fucking good- your hand feels so good..”

“Yeah?” You whispered, pumping him harder, “my hand feels good? Poor baby. Can’t even handle a handjob without crying.”

“I’m not crying—”

You glanced back up.

His eyes were glassy. His lashes were damp. And his cock was throbbing so hard in your fist it looked painful.

“You are,” you murmured. “You’re crying ‘cause you want my mouth, huh?”

He whined like a kicked puppy.

You grinned.

“You want me to suck you off so bad you’d get on your knees and beg, wouldn’t you?”

He nods frantically, gasping for air. “Yes, yes. I would- I’d do anything- please, y/n, I need it. Need your mouth, wan’ it so bad—”

“You’re so cute,” you giggle, twisting your wrist mid-stroke just to make him squirm. “So fucked out and needy over something you haven’t even felt yet.”

“I’ve imagined it,” he blurted. “I’ve thought about it so many times- your lips, your tongue, I touch myself to it- fuck, ‘m gonna cum—”

Your hand stops immediately.

He let out a strangled, broken moan, the kind that came from the soul. As his cock throbbed helplessly in your hand, right on the edge, aching for release.

“Don’t you dare cum,” you hissed. “Not unless you want me to walk away.”

He whimpered. You watched the muscles in his abdomen tighten, his thighs shaking as he fought it— struggled against his own body, literally holding back an orgasm with every last shred of willpower he had left.

His eyes fluttered open again, desperate, ruined.

“You did good, baby,” you whispered. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

You let go of his cock and pulled your hand away, sticky, soaked in his precum, still warm with the weight of him.

He sobbed— a tiny, wrecked sound that made your thighs clench.

You hadn’t even taken him in your mouth yet, and Jisung was already about to cry.

The flush on his cheeks crept down his throat, his hands struggled to stay put, not knowing what to do with them. His cock was hard. So hard. Red and slick and visibly throbbing as you pumped it slowly in your hand. Every now and then, his hips jerked subconsciously, helpless, like his body was trying to chase something even his mind couldn’t form words for.

You looked at him from between his thighs, chin tilted, lips parted just enough to tease.

“Still with me, baby?”

He nodded a little too fast. “Y-Yeah. I think. Maybe. I don’t know.”

You smiled. “You’re doing so good.”

And then you slowly licked a stripe from base to tip, watching his entire body flinch.

“Nngh,” his mouth flew open, head tipping back to hit the shelf behind him. “Oh my god.”

“Not yet,” you remind, letting your tongue flick beneath the head, collecting every drop of precum you’d pulled out of him. “But you can pray if it helps.”

He let out a strangled laugh, cut off halfway by a moan as your lips finally wrapped around the tip and sucked— lightly, just enough to watch his knees buckle.

That’s when you gave him what he really wanted.

You slid up and down, slowly, letting him feel every inch and crevice of your mouth, your tongue pressed firm against the underside of his cock, and didn’t stop until you had him nearly down your throat.

You look up through your lashes, gaze dropping to his lips, then back up to his eyes.

His eyes were already rolling back when yours locked with his. The second he realized you were watching him— deepthroating him while holding eye contact, he let out the filthiest, most guttural groan you’d ever heard come out of him.

“Y-y/n fuck- fuck, your eyes- your mouth- baby, please, please don’t stop—”

You moaned around him, the vibration making his thighs shake.

You sucked harder now, faster, bobbing your head as your hand stroked what your lips couldn’t take. Drool started to peak out from the corners of your mouth and dripping down to your chin. Your jaw ached. Your eyes were watering. But you loved every second of it because he looked absolutely wrecked.

He was trembling like a virgin sacrifice, hips twitching, mouth open in a soft, breathless ‘o’ as his hands finally came to your head— not pushing, not guiding, just holding, as if he needed something to cling to so he doesn’t burst at the seams.

You were soaking wet.

Your thighs pressed together under your skirt, heat thobbing between your legs. Every time he moaned, every time he whimpered your name with that desperate, wrecked voice, you felt another pulse of wetness soak your panties.

You loved this.

Loved watching him come apart because of you.

He was a babbling mess now, muttering nonsensical praise and pleas spilling from his lips.

“Your mouth’s so warm, oh my god. So good, so fucking good, feels better than anything.. Think m’gonna cum, please let me cum in your mouth..”

You pulled off just enough to say, voice breathless, “then do it. Cum for me.”

And then you swallowed him whole again, deep and wet and perfect, not stopping until his entire body went still, shaking, before bucking up into your throat as he finally came.

“Fuckfuckfuck, I’m cumming—!”

His head dropped forward, eyes wide and panicked as his cock twitched hard, spilling thick spurts of cum hot and heavy down your throat. You sucked him through it, not letting up until he was whimpering, thrashing, his knees buckling as he slumped back against the shelf.

You swallowed everything, not a drop of him wasted.

Then licked your lips, smugly grinning.

When you stood back up, he was still dazed. His eyes followed you like you were gravity itself.

“That was—” He wheezed. “I think I just- did I die? Am I dead?”

You leaned in close and whispered, “You died a slut.”

He choked on his own saliva.

And then, of course.. came the sound that ruined everything.

His phone buzzing. Loudly. With that stupidly obnoxious ringtone.

A Zelda theme remix.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, eyebrows lifting. “Is that your mom?”

Jisung turned redder than you thought humanly possible.

He yanked the phone out of his pocket and hissed, “Yes.”

“Answer it.”

“I will not—!”

You reached for it and put it on speaker before he even had the chance to protest and stop you.

“Jisung?” His mom’s voice rang out. “Did you remember to eat something today?”

He turned paler than a ghost.

You smiled sweetly, reaching over for a tissue and using it to wipe the corner of your mouth.

“He’s getting plenty of protein,” you said, and swiftly hung up.

Jisung let out a noise that could only be described as dying baby animal.

“I’m never recovering from this,” he smacks his forehead with his palm.

You peck his cheek. “You’ll recover. Eventually. After I sit on your face.”

He whimpered again. “You’re gonna be the reason I fail out of college.”

“And you’ll love every second of it.”

[em1i2a3]

Idk if you’re taking requests but can you do Bob x reader where the reader has powers like Rogue. Bob has the biggest fattest crush on reader, reader is oblivious (but the crush is mutual), and angst angst ANGST

Sailor Song

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/Sentry/The Void x Rogue Inspired!Fem!Reader

Summary: Bob is in love with you, but you can’t be what he wants.

Warnings: Semi-Spoilers for Thunderbolts as Bob is the main character here. There is a whole boat of angst in here, and it’s a bit heartbreaking, and really frickin sad (don’t worry y’all not too sad…Hopefully lol) but I do like the character of Rogue, and this Inbox Request really sparked a lot of inspiration in me to write for an idea like this!

Author’s Note: I love where I got to go with these two characters and how it played out in the end. I added something to the reader's little arsenal of powers by the way, but it is for the plot. I hope it meets expectations. I kinda wrote this really late at night (01:49am over here lol)

Word Count: 5,477

Bob remembers the first night he saw you in his dreams.

Not when he first met you–no. That had been a tense mission briefing, it was your first introduction to the team. You had barely spoken, and Bob had sat two chairs away from you and tried not to stare. It was like he was enchanted by you– the way you held yourself, the way you stood and said your name, the little wave you gave to everyone with your gloved hands before sitting down. He remembered everything about that day.

But the dream–God the dream was so different.

It started with darkness. Not shadows, not dusk–just a smothering kind of black, like he was trapped in the deepest part of his mind. There was no floor beneath him. No air in his lungs. Just coldness. He was clawing at it. His fingers were raw and bleeding, his breath was ragged, and there was this panic that curled tight in his chest like he had swallowed barbed wire.

There was no sense of direction but all he knew was that he needed to get out, but the darkness fought back. It dragged him down, swallowed his screams, twisted his thoughts into screeching noises. It was his personal version of hell…Then…There was light.

It was just a sliver. A violent, beautiful tear right down the middle of the darkness, like someone had reached in and split the fabric with their bare hands.

Then suddenly the darkness was gone, and he found himself in the middle of a glowing field. The air was thick with warmth and the scent of something sweet–jasmine, maybe. Or lavender. He couldn’t tell. The grass around him was tall and pale, not green, but something softer–sun-bleached gold, silver at the tips like it had caught the moonlight. The sky above him was an endless stretch of colour, he couldn’t tell if it was day or night, but it was a bruised blue-purple, with streaks of rose and gold that bled through like watercolour.

It was quiet…For once it was quiet.

There was no wind. No movement. No screaming. Just breathing–his own, slow and steady. He could feel his pulse slowing down, and his skin didn’t hurt, and his hands weren’t bleeding anymore. There was no evidence of the fight he had put up in the darkness.

Confused, he turned in place slowly, trying to understand where he was–trying to find the edges of the dream. Nothing like this had ever come to him in his dreams, not when sleep was usually a war zone. A collapsing cathedral of his own mind.

Then he saw you.

You were standing a few yards away, at the center of the field, bathed in the low light. You weren’t wearing your gloves, you weren’t armored or distant, you looked happy, something he had never seen. You were smiling, and barefoot, your hair lifted slightly from the breeze that blew by you–something he hadn’t felt until that moment.

Bob froze in his spot, and your name left his mouth before he even realized he was speaking. You looked up at the sound, and turned towards it. Your eyes met him at that moment, and something in his chest cracked wide open. He was shocked that you heard him, let alone looked at him.

And then-just as his feet moved forward, just as his hand twitched at his side with the desperate, gut-deep urge to reach for you…He had woken up.

Ever since that night he would pray that he would see you again in the landscape of his dreams.

And he always did.

Each time he closed his eyes, you were there–waiting for him in that glowing field, barefoot and smiling. There was no fear or sharp intake of breath when he reached for you. It was just you, and him, in a version of the world that didn’t punish either of you for wanting something tender.

During the day, he kept his distance from you. He respected the rules you had– the ones that kept everyone safe. But in his mind he was hyper aware of everything you would do. He learned your habits, the way you avoided tight corridors, how you sat far away from people during movie night, how you always wore long sleeves no matter the weather, and how you pulled away when things became crowded.

But at night, in that field of light and silence, he didn’t have to pretend, even though he knew it wasn’t really you.

He could stand beside you without seeing you run off. He could sit close to you, close enough to touch your arm, close enough to feel your breath when you spoke. Sometimes, you would laugh and throw your head back like you weren’t scared of yourself. Sometimes you would lean into him, like it was easy…Like it was allowed.

In the dream, he wasn’t broken, and you weren’t dangerous, and that was all that mattered.

Then like always, Bob would wake up and land back in a body full of restraint. In a world full of barriers. In a life where the one person he wanted, didn’t truly want him.

Or at least, that’s what he told himself.

Because you never looked at him the way you did in the dream. You never touched him, never lingered near him too long. You were careful with everyone–but with him, there was something more than just caution. It felt like avoidance to him, and he couldn’t figure out if it was because you felt something too, or if it was just the shape of his own delusion.

—————-

“Valentina has planned a retreat for all of us this weekend.” Bucky announced, his voice even but authoritative in the way that warned everyone that nobody was going to be getting out of this, “She says it’s for ‘team bonding,’ so there are no exceptions.”

An array of groans echoed through the common room, and everyone exchanged glances at one another. You were at the kitchen island eating cereal, picking around the marshmallows, leaving them floating in the milk. Your spoon clinked gently against the bowl as you did it, moving slowly and methodically, not looking up to the chaos that was going on around you.

Across from you, Bob sat with his own bowl–one hand wrapped loosely around the ceramic, while the other one rested on the counter beside it. It wasn’t on purpose that he sat across from you, he had just walked in–wearing a baggy hoodie and matching sweatpants–poured his cereal in a sleepy haze and plopped himself down, still rubbing the dreams of you out of his eyes.

”Well why the hell do we need to go on a retreat if we literally already live together? Isn’t doing that enough?” Walker asked loudly, half-laughing, half-serious, his tone teetering on the edge of defiance. Bucky didn’t even flinch at the question because he already knew it was coming.

”Because Val said so, and because you guys don’t know how to wait until after briefings to snap at one another.” Bucky replied, not even looking up from the papers in his hands, “Just a reminder you’re the one who almost got into a fight with Yelena because she accidentally handed you the wrong clip for your gun…So…Maybe that’ll give you another reason why they want us to go into the a cabin in the woods together.” Bucky finished, his tone flat but edged with exhaustion.

A few chuckles rippled through the room, and Ava didn’t miss a beat.

”Yeah, it’s to make it easier to hide the bodies.” She said coolly, reaching for her coffee. Yelena grinned over her mug.

”I don’t need a cabin in the woods. I’d bury Walker deep enough that nobody would ever find him.” Laughter broke out, bouncing off the walls of the compound like someone had opened a valve and let the pressure spill. They all needed it, just to take the edge off the impending doom that was the forced retreat.

You glanced up at Bob who was staring down at his bowl, picking around at the contents like he was distracted. But you saw the way his jaw tensed slightly. The way his hand hovered just a second too long before plunging the spoon back into the milk. He looked up only when the laughter swelled again, and with the most practiced casualness, shoved a spoonful of soggy marshmallows into his mouth.

You glanced down at your own bowl, watching as the marshmallows drifted aimlessly, softening at the edges, bleeding their artificial colors into the milk in soft pinks and greens and blues. They didn’t look real. Like tiny ghosts of something sweet you’d never let yourself want.

A pang stirred in your chest.

Not because of the marshmallows. Not even because of the retreat. But because this was a rare moment–an opportunity to offer him something, anything, that didn’t come off as cold or standoffish. Something that didn’t feel like a wall.

You hadn’t meant for your past interactions with Bob to be sharp. But they had been. Unintentionally. A result of instinct, of fear, of that constant need to protect others from you, and maybe to protect yourself from what you knew you couldn’t have.

You let out a soft sigh, and reached out before you could talk yourself out of it, tapping on the counter in front of him. He had flinched, almost like you had reached out and smacked him. It was the smallest jerk in his shoulder but you saw it. His eyes flicked over to yours, wide and uncertain, like maybe he didn’t believe you were actually trying to get his attention.

“Do you want these?” You whispered, nodding towards your bowl. His eyebrows drew together, confused at your offer, and at the fact you were the one speaking first, when it had always been him to do that. Bob, stumbling through conversation starters. Bob, trying to make you smile. Bob, desperately trying to pretend that he wasn’t dreaming about you every night and waking up lonelier than the day before. His blue eyes glanced down at the bowl for a moment, then raised back to yours. You could see the way he was contemplating. There wasn’t calculation behind his eyes, there was conflict, like he couldn’t tell if this was real, or if he’d finally blurred the line between the waking world and the place where he only ever touched you in dreams.

You watched his mouth part–just barely, like he wanted to say really solid yes, but instead he gave a small nod.

And then–barely audible–he whispered, “Y-Yeah…I mean…If you don’t w-want them of course.” You shook your head at him, then without a word, you slid the bowl toward him. The motion was smooth and steady, but Bob noticed everything. He saw the subtle tension in your shoulders, the way your gloved fingers were barely touching the bowl, like you thought he was going to try to touch you, even the look on your face was telling him that you thought he was going to do something.

He swallowed, sitting up a little straighter, feeling his stomach twisting, as he met you halfway and dragged the bowl away from you, pulling it close to him.

Bob was going to say something, not anything huge, just something that could keep the interaction going.

But before he could get any words out–

”Wait, wait, wait, hold on–we’re all sleeping in the same room?!” Yelena's voice cut across the kitchen like a record scratch. That sentence alone made the both of you draw your attention back to what was happening, surprised by the new information.

”It’s a small cabin,” Bucky said flatly, “One open concept floor. Living room turns into a sleeping area, so bring your own blanket.”

“Oh, this is just great,” Walker muttered, “Can’t wait to wake up to Alexei’s snoring…”

”I do not snore.” Alexei replied.

Bob tuned out of the conversation after hearing the fact that you would all be shoved into one room together to sleep. He could feel a pit of dread settling in his stomach, because he knew what that meant for you. What it would feel like to be surrounded by everyone, pressed into a shared space with no safety net, and no room for distance. He could already see the cogs turning in your head, like the weekend was a minefield and you were the innocent person dropped in the middle of it to try and navigate around the impossible.

Even worse though–he knew what it would mean for him, if he had to fall asleep knowing you were just a few feet away. Close enough to touch. Close enough to hear you breathe. Close enough that when he opened his eyes he would see you, after spending the entire night dreaming of you. It made him ill, and he didn’t know how the hell he was going to handle it when the time came.

———————

The night before the trip, everyone had gathered in the common room to sort out who was bringing what, how many bags were going to fit in the back of the van, who was on snack duty, and who was going to sit where. It had been a loud, chaotic and predictably annoying back and forth, and all you wanted to do was retreat and go to sleep, but you knew that you were going to be a subject that was going to be brought up, so it would be easier to be there.

Bob on the other hand had turned in early.

Said he wasn’t feeling great, a headache according to him. He mentioned he just needed rest.

You overheard him murmur it to Yelena when she passed him in the hallway, and she didn’t push for any information, she just gave him a nod and let him go. It was something that he was doing frequently these days, ducking out of night events to go to bed, and there was always a convenient excuse for him. It was either a headache, lack of sleep, or just not feeling good, and it got him out of everything, including this conversation.

“Okay, okay!” Bucky exclaimed, raising his voice just enough to cut through the arguing, “Even if everyone brings only one bag, we’re still going to be short on space in the van. So we need to figure out how to get everyone there safely without anything happening.” There was a pause in the chatter, the kind that signaled the shift that you were anticipating–the part where you became the logistical variable.

Nobody said your name though.

Instead, there was some fumbling. Alexei muttered something about using the roof racks to tie Walker up onto it. Ava agreed with the suggestion. And Yelena was looking at you out of the corner of her eye like she was waiting for you to offer a solution before anyone else tried to come up with one on your behalf.

”I can drive myself…I have my car,” You said, eyes glancing down at the laminated packing list in your lap, “I can just meet all of you there.” You added. There was a small shift in the atmosphere, like you had immediately taken the tension out of the room. Bucky looked up from the clipboard he was holding, his expression unreadable but focused.

“Thank you, Y/N. That helps more than you realize…But we still won’t have enough space to fit everyone comfortably, would you be able to take someone else with you?” Your eyes flicked up to him.

”Sure.” Bucky bit the inner side of his cheek, like he was contemplating who he was going to send with you. Knowing that you would have final say regardless of the suggestion he gave.

”Would you be able to take…Bob?”

For a moment, all you could think about was how Bob had looked that morning when you offered him your marshmallows. The way he hesitated, and flinched when you tapped the counter, the way his eyes lingered on your gloves.

You thought about how he didn’t look at you again after that, and it made your throat tighten slightly.

Not because you were offended…But because it hurt.

Because there was something about Bob Reynolds that made your chest ache in ways you didn’t know how to soothe. Something about his silence–gentle, tentative, never invasive–that made you feel seen even when you couldn’t be touched. And the worst part was knowing that he wanted to. Not just physically. Not just a hand on your wrist or a brush of fingers. But all of it. The closeness. The company. The conversation that didn’t come laced with protocols.

That’s why you tried to build walls around you as much as possible…Because you knew Bob would never try to scale them. He respected you too much to ignore the rules. Yet you still found yourself thinking that one day he would try to cross the line.

”That’s fine.” You said. It came out even, and controlled, but inside you were anything but.

Bucky gave you a small nod and marked it down with the click of his pen. The others went back to their tasks, but your fingers were stiff against your lap–your gloves creasing every so faintly from how tightly you were gripping the paper.

You left the room not long after, and nobody stopped you.

————-

The next morning came quickly.

Your bag was already packed, and your car was fully prepared for the ride up. You had checked yourself–the gas tank was full, the heat was working, and the backseat was empty. You even shifted the passenger seat back to accommodate Bob’s knees so he didn’t slam them into the glove compartment when he stepped in.

The sky was still a dull blue-gray when you stepped outside, and you could see your breath puffing out in front of you in soft white clouds. The compound behind you was buzzing faintly with the chaos of people double-checking their bags and fighting over seat assignment, but out here in the quietness of the early morning, it almost felt peaceful.

You stood by your car, leaning against the driver’s side door, gloved fingers curled around your thermos. You took slow sips of your coffee–not because you needed it, but because the warmth gave you something to focus on–a distraction from the impending drive. It was only going to be three hours, but you could tell it would be the longest three hours you had ever experienced.

Each passing second was a breath you didn’t want to admit you were holding. Part of you hoped Bob wouldn’t show up–that he would decide last-minute to ride in the van instead and send someone else, to spare you both the awkwardness of being locked in such a small space with nothing but music, the road, and the weight of every unspoken thing between you.

But the other part of you–the one buried deep beneath layers of self-preservation and fear–hoped he would. Hoped he would sit in your passenger seat and glance over at you, and maybe this time…He wouldn’t look away.

The front doors of the compound hissed open.

You didn’t have to look to know it was him. You felt it. The shift. That subtle pressure in your chest like gravity had tilted slightly in his direction. You turned your head just enough to catch him walking across the lot, backpack slung low over his shoulder and a tupperware container cradled in his arms. His hoodie was pulled over his head, and his coat was zipped all the way up, making him look smaller than usual despite the broadness of his shoulders.

He spotted you and slowed.

Bob always slowed when he saw you. Like he needed an extra second to brace himself.

He adjusted the container in his grip and gave a shy, uncertain wave. You lifted your thermos in return.

”Morning,” You said quietly.

”Morning,” He echoed, voice hoarse like he hadn’t spoken to anyone yet today, “I uh…I brought that banana bread that I made yesterday evening. It’s not…I mean. It’s not good, but Yelena tried it last night and didn’t die, so…” You let out a small breath, as a smirk slowly tugged up on your lips.

”Low bar, but I guess it’ll do.” That made him laugh a bit, like he was a little embarrassed, but it was something. He moved towards the passenger door, shifting from foot to foot. You reached into your pocket, clicked the fob and unlocked the doors.

”I adjusted the seat already for you,” You mentioned, opening your own door, slipping in and putting your thermos into the cup holder, while he did the same on his side, “Didn’t want you cramped the whole drive.” You added, when he was able to hear you.

”Oh…Uh…Thanks.” He said after a beat, sliding his backpack off his shoulder, before easing himself into the seat beside you, and shutting the door. The quiet that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it settled between you like mist–thick with things that neither of you wanted to say to one another. You didn’t look at him right away. You focused on adjusting the heat, on clicking your seatbelt into place, on the scrape of your thermos as you nudged it deeper into the cup holder. Anything to keep your hands busy.

But the air had already changed.

The moment he sat down, you could feel it. The warmth of his body chased out the cold that had lingered in the space all morning. He smelled like laundry soap and something sweet–vanilla, maybe. Cinnamon. The faintest trace of sleep still clung to him, and something about that undid you a little. He had clearly just rolled out of bed, eyes still rimmed with the softness of sleep, his hair slightly mussed beneath his hood.

And worse–there was a part of you that wanted to lean closer, just to breathe him in.

Bob didn’t move much, but you could feel the tension radiating off him. His shoulders were rigid, like he was afraid to take up too much space. His hands stayed clasped around the tupperware in his lap, like he needed something to hold onto–some anchor to keep him from saying something he shouldn’t. Like, I dreamt about you again last night. Like, You touched my face and nothing happened. Like, I don’t know how to sit next to you now without wanting things I can’t ask for.

“Did you sleep well?” You asked quietly, putting the car in drive, almost like you were asking for him to tell him about what he had been dreaming about, “I heard you mention to Yelena that you weren’t feeling too well.” Bob looked over at you fast, like he hadn’t expected you to say anything to him for the drive. He was thankful that the hoodie over his head hid his flushed ears, but his face wasn’t shielded from your gaze, and you could see the way the red creeped up on his cheeks.

”Uh…Yeah. Yeah I slept well…Feeling much better.” You nodded once, lips pressing together in a way that wasn’t quite a smile, nor a frown. You didn’t believe him, not fully at least. His voice was too soft, and too careful, like he was picking his words carefully. And maybe that’s what hurt you the most–how gentle he was even when he was lying.

“Oh. Good.” You said simply, eyes fixated on the road ahead as you pressed on the gas, pulling out of the parking lot. Bob sank into the passenger seat, still tasting the ghost of your name on his tongue from the dream he’d barely left behind.

The field had been brighter last night. You laughed at something he said. The kind of laugh that made him feel like the world wasn’t so sharp anymore. Like maybe it didn’t hurt to breathe when you were near. You’d touched his face in the dream–cupped his cheek like he was breakable and safe all at once–and he’d felt it linger long after his eyes opened. He was surprised you didn’t notice how red his eyes were from crying, but then again why would you be concerned with that.

Now he sat here, beside the real you, and he couldn’t even meet your eyes for more than a second.

You glanced at him, catching the way he clutched the tupperware container like it was the only thing anchoring him to the moment, the way he fiddled with the edges, the nervous twitching he always did that you couldn’t help but notice. It was one of his many tells that something was bothering him, but you didn’t push, your eyes just returned to what was in front of you.

The highway stretched ahead like a ribbon of grey silk, unraveling beneath your tires. The sun hadn’t quite risen yet, and the pale light bleeding through the windshield was casting a bluish tint over Bob’s face. You kept your eyes on the road, but you could feel his presence like heat on your skin.

“You really didn’t have to bring anything,” You murmured after a stretch of quiet, nodding toward the banana bread.

Bob looked over at you quickly, then back down at the container like it had surprised him to still be there. “I… I just thought it might be nice. For the cabin. It’s dumb, but I—uh—sometimes baking helps when I can’t sleep.”

Your grip on the wheel tightened slightly. “It’s not dumb to want to do something nice…I wasn’t saying it to be…Cold or anything. It’s just a nice thing to do.”

He looked at you then. Really looked. Just for a moment. And for the first time in what felt like ages, you looked at him.

A breath passed between you. Heavy. Loaded.

But it didn’t last. Bob glanced back down at the container again and shifted in his seat. The tension in his shoulders softened marginally, and you could tell the lull of the ride was beginning to get to him. The rhythm of the road, the warmth of the heater. You caught the slow, unconscious twitch of his fingers against the plastic lid before he rested the tupperware gently on the floor by his feet and leaned his head back against the headrest.

“I think…I’m going to close my eyes for a bit,” He said, voice barely above a whisper.

“Are you alright?” You asked, concerned about the sudden change in his demeanor.

“Yeah…J-Just tired.” He murmured, his lashes fluttering once before settling. You didn’t push. You didn’t ask if he was sure. You just adjusted the heat a little higher and turned the radio down low, giving him the space he always gave you.

The car fell into a soft hush, broken only by the low hum of the engine and the distant thump of tires over uneven pavement. Bob’s breathing slowed next to you. Gradually. Unevenly at first. Then steadily.

And then it was silent.

Until.

“…Y/N.”

Your name. Whispered like a secret. Like a prayer.

It wasn’t loud, but it wasn’t quiet either. Just clear enough to freeze your hands on the wheel.

You glanced over at him, and his face was tilted toward you now, not fully, but just enough to expose the vulnerability in his features. His brows were drawn slightly together, lips parted, and the softest tremble lingered on the edge of them–like he was mid-sentence in a conversation he couldn’t have while awake.

“…M-Miss y-you.” You didn’t mean to slam on the brakes.

Technically you didn’t–but your foot did twitch hard enough on the pedal to make the car lurch slightly, just enough that your coffee sloshed in the cupholder and Bob stirred in the passenger seat with a soft grunt. But he didn’t wake–not fully. He just shifted his head slightly against the seat, curling further toward the door like he was bracing himself for something, the way someone does when they expect to wake up heartbroken.

You stared at him for a long, stunned second. Your fingers had gone numb around the wheel. You weren’t even sure you were breathing. All you knew was you had to pull over to try and regain some sense of stability before continuing, because your thoughts were derailing and spinning out of control.

You pulled off to the shoulder as smoothly as you could, but your hands were trembling too much to hide it. The car dipped slightly as it slowed to a crawl, the crunch of gravel beneath your tires filling the sudden silence now that the radio had gone quiet. You didn’t turn the engine off. You didn’t unbuckle your seatbelt. You just sat there, staring at your own reflection in the faint gleam of the windshield, breathing like someone who’d just run a marathon.

Bob shifted again beside you in his sleep, brow creasing like he was trying to hold onto something—some fragile thread of whatever dream he was caught inside. But all you could hear was your name, still echoing softly in the air between you.

Y/N.

Miss you.

Your throat tightened so hard it hurt.

Because no one missed you. Not like that.

You didn’t let them.

You couldn’t.

Not when the cost of closeness was something you couldn’t afford. One wrong brush of skin, one slip in control, one heartbeat too fast, one lapse of judgment–and everything you cared about could shatter. You had spent years learning how to exist at arm’s length, how to keep every tender instinct buried beneath gloves, sleeves, distance, and detachment. You had become an expert at denial. At convincing yourself that loneliness was better than guilt.

But Bob Reynolds–quiet, sweet, trembling Bob–was dreaming about you like you were something he had lost. Like he’d had you once. Touched you once. Held you once.

And the worst part? You believed him.

Because deep in your bones, somewhere beneath the power that was humming like electricity in your bloodstream, you felt it. That dream wasn’t just a dream. You knew what it felt like when someone’s subconscious pressed into your atmosphere–when they wanted you so badly that even your powers couldn’t keep them out. And if he’d been dreaming of you enough, if he’d carried that version of you with him night after night…There was a chance his dreams had reached into yours too.

That would explain the phantom warmth you sometimes woke up with. The laughter you’d hear in your sleep and never understand. The way your chest had started to ache when he walked into a room.

“Oh my god…” You breathed, so softly it barely counted as sound.

Your gloved hand hovered, trembling slightly, before you set it down in your lap again. You couldn’t reach out. You wouldn’t. But your heart was thudding so violently in your chest now that you could feel it behind your eyes.

You turned to look at him again.

His lashes were still down, mouth parted slightly in sleep, but the edges of his expression were laced with pain. It wasn’t rest he was getting–it was longing. A quiet, desperate kind. And if you listened carefully, you could hear the tiniest whisper leave his mouth again–like a plea caught in the middle of a storm.

“…Don’t go…Please d-don’t go.”

And your heart broke into a million pieces, because as much as you wanted to reach out to comfort him, there would be no use. It would only draw you in deeper, and somehow you would end up losing him, and that was something you couldn’t risk, something you wouldn’t risk. Bob was part of your constant whether you liked it or not, but you couldn’t be what he needed, or what he wanted, not with the powers you held, and you knew that right from the start.

You just didn’t realize how hard it would be to suppress everything and bury it, but now was just the beginning of the pain.

[haniette]

practice makes perfect. // ln4

pairing | lando norris x fem!reader

genre | fluff, lots of angst, friends to lovers, idiots in love, childhood best friends au, slowburn (trust the process), hurt-comfort

word count | 22.5k (i know- my hand slipped)

warnings | no use of y/n, suggestive in some moments, emotional tension, jealous!lando, mentions of insecurities, use of alcohol, cursing, kissing, pet names (sweetheart), lots of tension, pinning, reader and lando being certified yappers, bantering and lots of teasing

summary: "practice makes perfect" or whatever they say. but who would have thought, that simple love lessons which he decided to give his best friend would turn into something much more. something much more complicated.

a/n: SURPRISEEEE !! happy bday to my dearest @norristrii !! 🧡 love u girlie xoxo, hope you’ll enjoy it ! ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡♡

“Fucking hell, I quit this shit.”

As you got into the car, you slammed the door shut and let out an exaggerated groan, throwing your bag onto the backseat. Slumping into the seat, you crossed your arms and stared straight ahead, refusing to look at Lando, who already had this annoying, amused look on his face. Damn it.

“Well, hello to you too, sweetheart.” He smirked from the driver’s seat and raised his eyebrow at you. 

“Never again.” You muttered, and his lovely laughter filled the whole car. 

You both knew that what you said wasn’t true. In a few days, you’d go on another date, say the same words, and laugh it off with him. The life of a hopeless romantic wasn’t easy.

“Well, that bad, huh? Come on, what was it this time?” He asked curiously, biting his lower lip as you sighed dramatically.

The memories from a couple of minutes flooded your head, still vivid, and it made you want to scream from embarrassment. 

“He spent the entire date explaining the plot of his favorite sci-fi series. In excruciating detail!” You started, Lando’s mouth slightly going open, “And you know, it’s not bad! But now I know more about space wars and intergalactic trade agreements than I ever wanted to.” A whine escaped from you as you looked out the window at the restaurant you were still in a few minutes ago. 

Lando burst into laughter, the sound echoing in the car. “Wait, wait— he actually talked about space wars and explained trade agreements? On a date?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

You looked at him with a withering glare. “Oh boy, let me tell you that it only gets worse.” You added, what made the grin of your best friend only go wider. At this point, listening to all the absurd things your dates did was Lando’s passion.

“When I told him I wasn’t really into sci-fi, he was baffled and said I clearly ‘didn’t understand the complexities of worldbuilding.’ Mate, I didn’t understand anything you said, and you complain that I don’t understand worldbuilding. Nah, that’s just crazy.” There was nothing else left for you but to sigh while sliding down the seat.

Lando doubled over, gripping the steering wheel for some support. “No. Fucking. Way.”

“Yes way,” You groaned, sitting back and throwing your head back against the headrest. “And then, just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, he pulled out his phone—mind you it was mid-date—and started reading me a fanfic he wrote. His own fanfiction!” You threw your hands in the air as the ridiculousness of the situation finally kicked in.

Lando’s laughter filled the car, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “Oh my God. Please, tell me that it was a romance.”

You glared at him, and your lips twitched despite trying to stay serious. “Of course, it was, even with some smut scenes! Can you imagine?” The audacity of that man still made your skin crawl.

Lando put his hands on his face, cackling uncontrollably. “And you actually sat through all of that? Before you finally texted me to save you from this madness?” At this stage, he was shedding tears from laughing too hard.

“What was I supposed to do? Walk out, just like that? ” You replied, chuckling at the end as you looked at him, “Mind you, it wasn’t easy to even get out now. For fucks’s sake, man.” You closed your eyes as a sigh left your mouth, a smile still wandering over your lips.

Lando shook his head, his soft curls bouncing slightly as he still giggled. “Honestly, I don’t know where you find these people. You must have some sort of a gift.” 

You smacked his arm, unable to stop yourself from laughing now. “Oh, shut up, you muppet. It’s not my fault he seemed normal on the app!”

“Normal?” Lando repeated, his voice full of mockery, “The man brought his fanfiction to a date. That’s a new low, even for you.” He snickered, not being able to stop himself from teasing you.

“I’m never dating again.” You groaned again, covering your face with your hands. “How is it possible that I always meet the biggest twats in Monaco? I swear, all of the best men are already taken.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

Lando scoffed while giving you a side-eye. “Oh, thank you, sweetheart.” He commented as you also alluded to him (still) being available on the love market.

After a while, he looked at you, again. Lando was grinning, and his voice softened just slightly. “But don’t worry, you’ll bounce back. You always do.”

He patted your thigh and gave it a small squeeze as he used to do. “Besides, you’ve got me as a backup.”He added teasingly while sending you a wink.

You glanced at him, rolling your eyes but smiling. That freaking muppet. Your muppet.

“Yeah, yeah. Just drive, will you?” You responded while concentrating on the scenery outside the window, still feeling his eyes on you.

As Lando drove away from the restaurant, his chuckles still echoing in the car, you couldn’t help but feel lighter in your heart. Somehow, even the worst nights didn’t seem so bad with him. He had this ability to make even the worst moments feel less draining. 

────୨ৎ────

When you got to Lando’s apartment, without much thought you changed into some of his clothes. You couldn’t wait any longer to take this uncomfortable dress off of you and put something cozy on while also removing the makeup you wore that night. In the meantime, Lando took the takeout he ordered for both of you to the living room, and prepared two glasses for the wine. 

After every failed blind date, Lando would save you, take you to his place, eat, and talk about the ridiculous date you had while drinking some cheap wine. He was always there for you, after every shitty day and even worse dates. 

You’ve known each other for most of your lives as you met in primary school. It all started pretty innocently—barely audible “hi”, cute smiles here and there, then having fun together after school. Just you two being youthful kids. 

With time, everything progressed and so did you. 

The two of you became inseparable. You hung out with Lando most of your days, staying at his house more than at your own. 

Every new thing that was known to you was tried together with Lando. With him you went through the tough time of puberty, you skipped school, you snuck out of your house at night, you went to your first parties, you tried alcohol for the first time, and of course, he was your first kiss (which turned out to be pretty awkward). 

It was Lando and you against the world. And the shitty dates.

But as you both grew up, things started to change. You both always insisted that there was no romantic tension between you, even though all of your friends, your families, and even strangers constantly mistook you for a couple. But that was just how it was between you two; non-stop bantering with friendly flirting. You’ve never overthought it too much as you considered it a closed case.

The two of you sat cross-legged on the couch, a half-empty bottle of wine standing on the coffee table, right beside the takeaway boxes. Lando leaned back, getting comfortable on the couch as he watched you swirl your glass like some sort of wine connoisseur.

“So,” He said with a teasing smirk, “Mister Fanfiction is officially out of the list, huh?” 

You groaned, hiding your face behind your glass. “Don’t remind me. I can still hear him narrating those battle scenes like he was auditioning for an audiobook.”

Lando laughed, shaking his head. “To be honest, I don’t know how you do it. At this point, it’s almost impressive. You’ve got a talent for finding the weirdest men in Monaco.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Careful, Norris. You’re on thin ice.” Lando grinned as you stuck out your tongue at him, clearly enjoying himself. 

“I’m just saying, that maybe…” He paused, observing your face with a smirk, “Maybe you’re the problem.”

You blinked at him, “Excuse me?” A snicker left your mouth. “So now suddenly all of the failed dates are my fault?”

“No, no! Think about it,” He continued, shrugging as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Clearly, you need someone to teach you how to date properly.”

You raised a brow, your lips twitching. “Oh, really? And who’s going to do that? You?”

Lando took another sip of his wine, smirking behind the glass. “Maybe I should. You know I have some experience, and God knows I’ve watched you crash and burn enough times to know how to handle you. Practice makes perfect after all.” He chuckled, still oblivious to what was going on in your head.

To his surprise, you suddenly leaned forward, setting your glass down with a decisive clink. “Okay then. Teach me, Mr. I-know-everything-about-love.”

He froze in his spot, staring at you while holding his breath. “Wait. What?” He tilted his head questioningly, flabbergasted at your reaction.

“You heard me,” You said, crossing your arms. “Teach me how to date. If you’re such an expert, show me what I’m doing wrong.” A smirk appeared on your lips as you noticed how taken aback he was by your directness.

His grin faltered, replaced by a flicker of nervousness. “Hey, I was just joking.” Lando excused himself quickly, scratching the back of his head. 

What he didn’t expect was for you to counter. “I’m not.” Your tone daring him to back out.

The boy hesitated, the tips of his ears turning pink. He cleared his throat before finally speaking, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. You must have drank too much wine tonight.” He reached to take your glass, but you moved your hand away, making it impossible for him to reach.

“Why not?” You challenged him, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Too afraid you’ll fail?”

Lando scoffed, quickly straightening up his position. “Please. If anyone can turn your love life around, it’s me, sweetheart.”

“Then prove it.” You said, leaning in. 

Even you were quite shocked with yourself. But frankly, you weren’t sure if it wasn’t speaking the side where all the emotions toward him accumulated in you. And seeing him this flustered was worth risking it all.

For a moment, Lando just stared at you, caught between amusement and sheer disbelief. Where did this sudden change in you come from? However, he had to agree, he enjoyed it.

Then, with a dramatic sigh, he finally answered, “Fine. But we need some ground rules.”

You laughed, bringing your knee close to your chest, “Rules? Oh, this is going to be good.” You tilted your head while looking at him curiously.

“Rule number one,” He said, pointing at you, “No falling in love with your teacher.” 

You scoffed and looked at him pityingly, “Oh please,” You rolled your eyes at him, “Trust me, Norris, that is not happening—never.”

“We’ll see,” He shot back, smirking. “Rule number two, I’m in charge. You do what I say.”

You grinned at his words, “Bossy, aren’t you?”

“Hey, you asked for my help,” He retorted, his confidence returning. “Now, are we doing this or not?” His aquamarine eyes were stuck on you, searching for an answer.

A bright grin adorned your lips as you raised your glass for a toast. “Deal.” You said, “Teach me how to date, muppet.”

He clinked his glass against yours, though the faint blush on his cheeks betrayed his bravado. “Oh, you're going to regret this.”

“Bet.”

The two of you burst into laughter, but as the conversation moved on, neither of you could shake the unspoken tension that lingered in the air. Something new, something electric. Something that could only end up in two ways. Perfectly right or terribly wrong.

────୨ৎ────

The faint glow of morning sunlight seeped through the blinds, casting soft stripes across your cluttered room. A half-empty glass of water sat precariously on the edge of your nightstand, next to a book you promised yourself you’d finish weeks ago. Outside, the distant hum of traffic mingled with the chirping of early birds, a cruel reminder that the world was already awake.

And then came the shrill ring of your phone, piercing the peace like a dagger.

You groaned, blindly reaching for the offending device. When your hand finally found it, you squinted at the screen through bleary eyes.

Lando. Of course. 

You contemplated letting it ring, but with his persistence, you knew better.

Sliding to answer, you muttered, “What?” Your voice was hoarse, scratchy from sleep.

His unmistakably cheerful voice came from the other end of the line, far too chipper for this hour. “'Morning! Hope you’re ready for your first lesson.”

You blinked at the ceiling, your brain struggling to process his words. “Lan, it’s nearly eight in the morning. Have you gone crazy?”

“Nope,” He replied, completely unbothered. “And that is the perfect time to start our lesson. Come on, get out of bed, stinky.”

You groaned again, pulling the blanket over your head in protest. “Just let me sleep, dickhead.”

“Nope. I’ll be at yours in ten.”

Your eyes snapped open, the phone slipping slightly in your grasp. “Ten minutes?! Lando, I swear—”

“Get ready, you can’t miss your first lesson.” He chortled, making you groan at his words. 

“Fuck you.” You hissed in frustration.

His laughter rang through the line, light and unbothered. “Love you too, sweetheart.”

The call ended before you could respond, leaving you staring at the ceiling in disbelief. The soft ticking of the clock on your wall mocked you as you groaned loudly into your pillow.

For a brief moment, you debated ignoring him, but you knew Lando too well. If you didn’t answer the door, he’d just bang on it until the entire building woke up.

────୨ৎ────

Lando ended up sticking to his word and arrived in the next ten minutes. You were barely awake when the loud, obnoxious knocking jolted you from your bed. Groaning, you dragged yourself to the door, still wrapped in your blanket. You opened it to find Lando standing there, annoyingly bright-eyed and grinning like the devil himself.

“Morning, sweetheart!” He said, way too chipper for 7 AM.

You squinted at him, clutching your blanket tighter. “It’s not morning. It’s an ungodly hour, and I hate you.”

“Nah, you love me. Now come on, get dressed. We’ve got lessons to start.”

“Lessons on what? Torturing me at ungodly hours?” You grumbled, stepping aside to let him in.

Lando strolled in like he owned the place, collapsing onto your couch. He propped his feet up on your coffee table, looking entirely too comfortable.

“Nope. Lessons on how to become a dating pro, obviously.” He shot you a grin, his dimples on full display. “And step one is not looking like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

You grabbed a pillow from the couch without hesitation and launched it at his head. Laughing, he dodged it effortlessly as he leaned back into the cushions.

“I’m not doing this,” You grumbled, standing with your arms crossed. “Find another victim.”

Lando laughed, patting the spot next to him. “Oh, come on. You know you’re going to have fun. And besides, you were the one who insisted on me teaching you.”

You groaned, finally giving in and sitting next to him, your blanket still draped around your shoulders. “I take it back. This was a terrible idea.” 

He nudged your shoulder with his. “No take-backs. Now, let’s get started. First lesson is about showing up on time and looking cute.” 

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Says the guy in sweatpants and a hoodie.”

Lando laughed, a boyish grin spreading across his face. “Fair point. But you’re still the one who needs lessons, not me. And I’m setting the rules here, aren't I?”

“That’s not a rule. That’s just you being annoying.” You mumbled, burying yourself in the cushions as you leaned back.

“Hey, you want to get better at this or not?” Lando teased, “Now, sit up. Lesson One starts now.”

You groaned but sat up begrudgingly, rubbing your eyes. “Fine.”

Lando crossed his arms, his grin widening. “Lesson One is also about your confidence. The way you carry yourself is everything. If you go on a date looking like you just crawled out of bed—”

“But I did just crawl out of bed!” You snapped.

“Exactly my point.” He said smugly.

You scowled at him, but he was already pulling you to your feet. “Alright,” He said, taking you to your bedroom and spinning you toward the mirror. “Let’s start with posture. Shoulders back, chin up like you want to be here.”

“But I don’t want to be here.” You muttered.

“Fake it till you make it.” Lando quipped.

Reluctantly, you stood up straighter, mimicking his instructions. It looked so weird. You were still in your pyjamas and the blanket now unfortunately lying on the floor. 

He moved to stand behind you, gently adjusting your shoulders. His touch was firm but light, and it made your heart do a little flip—not that you’d want to admit it.

“Better,” He said, nodding at your reflection. “Now, confidence isn’t just how you look. It’s how you speak. Give me your best ‘Hi, nice to meet you.’”

You cleared your throat, feeling ridiculous. “Hi, nice to meet you.”

Lando winced dramatically, tilting his head to look at you in your reflection. “Ugh, no. That sounded like you were apologizing for existing. Try again—this time, like you’re happy to meet me.”

You rolled your eyes but tried again, adding a bit more energy to your voice. “Hi, nice to meet you!”

He raised an eyebrow. “Better, but now you sound like a game show host.”

You groaned. “Lando, this is stupid.”

“No, this is important,” He said, laughing. “You’ve got to find the balance—confident but natural.”

You tried again, narrowing your eyes at him as you said, “Hi, nice to meet you.”

Lando smirked. “There it is. See? Not that hard, is it?”

“You’re so lucky I haven’t had my coffee yet, or I’d kill you for this.” You muttered, glaring at him. 

“Which brings me to the second part of Lesson One,” He said, ignoring your threat. “Eye contact. If you want someone to feel like they matter, you look them in the eyes.”

You crossed your arms nonchalantly. “That’s easy.”

He stepped closer, spinning you around to face him. “Okay, prove it.”

Your breath was caught in your lungs as his blue-green eyes locked onto yours. He held your gaze steadily, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips. Suddenly, eye contact didn’t feel so easy.

“See? Not so simple, huh?” He said, his voice lower now, but still playful.

You scoffed, breaking eye contact and turning away. “Whatever. You’re just distracting.”

Lando chuckled. “That’s the point. A good date is gonna test your confidence. If you can hold your ground with me, then you’re more than ready.”

Despite your initial grumpiness, you found yourself smiling. His teasing felt less like mockery and more like encouragement, and as you practiced a few more scenarios—bantering the entire time—you started to feel a little less self-conscious.

By the time you were both laughing too hard to continue, your stomach growled loudly.

Lando raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Alright, I think we’ve earned a break. Let’s go get breakfast. My treat—since I’m such a generous coach.”

“You? Generous?” You questioned, grabbing your bag. “You’re a menace.”

“A menace who’s gonna make you a dating pro.” He shot back, winking at you as he held the door open for you.

You rolled your eyes but followed him out, feeling oddly lighter than you had in days. Maybe this “lesson” thing wouldn’t be so bad after all.

────୨ৎ────

As your second lesson, Lando took you this afternoon to your favourite café.

The café bustled with the quiet hum of chatter, the hiss of the espresso machine, and the clinking of ceramic cups. A group of teenagers laughed at a corner table, while an older couple sat by the window, sharing a croissant. 

You sat across from Lando, arms crossed as he leaned casually against the edge of the table, his grin infuriatingly smug. 

“This is ridiculous,” You said, glancing around the room. “What am I even supposed to do?”

He smirked, taking a slow sip of his coffee. “Easy. Pretend I’m a random guy you’re interested in. Strike up a conversation—charm me.” A smug smile appeared on his lips.

Your eyes narrowed. “You realize you’re not exactly a random guy, right?”

“Exactly my point. If you can charm me, you can charm anyone.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the flicker of a smile. “Fine. But don’t blame me when you’re left speechless.”

“That’s the spirit.” He sat back, crossing his arms, his expression all too amused.

Taking a deep breath, you leaned forward, mimicking what you thought was an effortless smile. “Hi there,” You said sweetly, your voice dripping with mock charm. “I couldn’t help but notice your incredibly obnoxious smirk from across the room. Do you always look this punchable, or is it just today?”

Lando choked on his coffee, holding back his laughter as people around already looked in your direction from his sudden slam of the cup against the coffee plate. 

“Okay, okay,” He said, wiping his mouth. “Not bad, but maybe dial it back a bit. Save the insults for date three.”

You groaned, sinking back into your chair. “This is stupid. What’s even the point?”

“The point,” He started, leaning forward, his eyes suddenly serious, “is to get you out of your head. You’re overthinking everything.”

You frowned, his words hitting a little too close to home. “I’m not overthinking. I’m just… bad at this.”

“You’re not bad at this,” He said softly. “You just don’t trust yourself.” The warmth in his voice caught you off guard. 

His gaze softened, his blue-green eyes holding yours in a way that made your stomach flip. You looked away, suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was, the way his knee brushed yours under the tiny table.

“Alright, let’s switch it up,” He said, breaking the tension. “We’ll role-play, but I’ll start this time. Watch and learn.”

He straightened in his chair, his playful smirk returning. “Excuse me, miss,” He said, his voice smoother than you’d ever heard it. “I couldn’t help but notice you’re sitting here all alone, looking like you could use some company.”

You raised an eyebrow, struggling to hide your grin. “That’s your line? Seriously, Norris?”

“Hey, usually it works,” He shot back, chuckling. “Now play along.”

“Fine.” You leaned forward, your lips twitching as you tried to stay in character. “Well, that depends. Are you always this confident, or are you just pretending because you’re at a café?”

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Only when I meet someone worth talking to.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the playful banter taking on an undercurrent of something deeper. The air between you shifted, the teasing smiles lingering a little too long, your gazes locked a little too intensely.

“See?” He said finally, “You’ve got this.”

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

The moment lingered, the conversation forgotten as silence fell between you. Lando’s fingers tapped against his cup, his gaze flicking to your lips for the briefest second before his eyes were back on yours. He sent you one of the innocent smiles as he took his cup of coffee and took a sip from it. 

Gosh, he’s going to be the death of you someday.

────୨ৎ────

The walk back from the café had been a peaceful one, with the sun setting slowly behind the buildings, casting the streets in a warm, golden light. 

Lando, always with that easy confidence, walked beside you, humming a tune under his breath while you quietly scrolled through your phone. Every now and then, your shoulders brushed as you walked, and you couldn’t ignore the warmth that spread through you every time.

Eventually, though, Lando broke the silence. “I’m starving,” He announced, his voice breaking through your thoughts. “Let’s grab some snacks.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “Snack run? You’re not getting chips again, are you?”

He shrugged casually, his hands buried in the pockets of his jeans, “I could eat chips for days, but no, I was thinking something different this time.”

“Uh-huh. You’re definitely getting chips.”

He grinned, pulling you toward the nearby grocery store. “You’ll see.”

The store filled a quiet hum of its own, the soft overhead lights buzzing faintly as you both entered with a bell ringing above you. A few late-night shoppers wandered the aisles, their footsteps quick and quiet. You two, however, were a whirlwind of chaos.

You immediately lined in for the snack aisle, while Lando—naturally—dashed off to the drink section, presumably for his endless supply of energy drinks.

You grabbed a bag of chips and stared at the labels, debating between your usual choice or something more adventurous. Suddenly, Lando appeared next to you, his basket full of neon-colored cans.

“Seriously?” You asked, eyeing his choice of drinks—five different kinds of energy drinks, none of which were remotely good for a person.

“What?” He shrugged, grinning. “I need my fuel. I don’t know how you live without these.”

“I’m more concerned about how your insides haven’t exploded yet.” You glanced at his cart again and shook your head. “You’re going to rot your teeth with this crap.”

Lando laughed, tossing a can of the brightest energy drink into his cart. “I’m fine. This stuff keeps me going. It’s your snacks that I’m worried about.” He grabbed your bag of chips and held it up, his face twisted in mock disgust. “See, this is why no one dates you.” 

You snatched the chips back, pointing at his basket with a dramatic sigh. “And this is why you’re single, you muppet. Candy and caffeine? Really?”

He looked at the kinder chocolates in his cart and then back at you, eyes narrowing. “Hey, I can’t help it if I like a little sugar rush now and then.”

“Sure, because we all know sugar rushes are the key to true love.” You replied sarcastically.

You both continued down the aisles, and before you knew it, you had found yourselves near the instant food section, where an impromptu race had begun. 

Lando, looked at you with that mischievous glint in his eye. “Race me to the candy aisle.” He challenged, grinning brightly.

“You’re on.” You replied with a smug smile on your face.

A blur of movement and laughter followed as you both sped down the aisles, dodging random items and barely avoiding a collision with a display of cereal boxes. You both nearly lost control a few times, but you managed to get into the candy aisle. You could hear Lando laughing behind you, the sound louder than your own heart pounding in your chest.

“Too slow!” You yelled, looking over your shoulder and laughing, feeling a rush of freedom you hadn’t expected. 

But just as you were about to win, you swerved too sharply, bumping into a shelf with your arm. Packs of gum and chocolate bars cascaded onto the floor in a loud crash. You let out a loud gasp as your hand flew to your mouth in shock.

“Nice one.” Lando teased, stopping beside you. He was giggling and you stood there, caught between wanting to be mad and laughing with him. “I’m blaming you for this.” You said. 

“Of course you are.” He teased you.

“But you know I won, right?” You added, raising your eyebrow at him, “I don’t think that counts when you caused a mini disaster.”

You both spent the next few minutes putting everything back in place, much to the amusement of the other customers in the store. 

Finally, you made your way to the checkout counter, where the middle-aged, woman cashier gave you both a disbelieving look as she scanned your wildly mismatched purchases.

“Is this your dinner?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Not sure what we’re having yet, but we’ll figure it out.” Lando replied smoothly, grinning at you. You rolled your eyes at him. “At least we’ll have fun while we starve.” He added.

After the chaotic trip to the store, you were both exhausted, but the laughter still lingered. The cool evening air was refreshing as you walked home, each of you carrying a bag full of questionable snack choices. Every now and then, your hands brushed, but neither of you said anything about it.

“See?” Lando started, glancing at you. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He sent you a bright grin.

You smiled, a little breathless from the adrenaline. “It was a disaster, but I’ll admit, it was fun.”

He glanced at you sideways, his grin softening. “Well, next time, I’ll win the race.”

“Oh, please. You cheated.”

“Can’t blame me for taking advantage of your terrible operating skills.” Lando said with a wink. 

You laughed, playfully nudging him with your shoulder. “You’re impossible.”

“But you like it.” He added, nudging you back. 

And suddenly, the air between you shifted. The easy banter was still there, but now it felt heavier, like something unspoken was hanging in the silence. You both stopped walking, and for a moment, neither of you said anything.

It was Lando who broke the quiet, his voice softer than usual. “You’re the best part of my day, you know that?”

You blinked, your heart giving an unexpected leap in your chest. “I— what?”

“Just saying.” He chirped, smiling brightly but there was something vulnerable in his eyes now.

You swallowed, unsure of how to respond. It felt like everything had changed, but you didn’t know how.

Before you could say anything, he nudged you with his shoulder again, snapping you back to reality. “Anyway, time for our questionable snacks.”

You laughed again, trying to push down the rising feelings inside you. “Yeah, yeah. Lead the way.” You said as you both strolled to your apartment.

────୨ৎ────

Lando kicked off his shoes and tossed his jacket onto the couch, walking into his apartment, but it didn’t feel like home tonight. The place was too quiet, too still. His thoughts were loud, buzzing like an electric current through his mind, and he couldn’t seem to shut them off.

He plopped down on the couch, rubbing his face with both hands. His mind kept wandering back to the day with you, your lesson at the cafe, the grocery store, the spontaneous shopping race, and hanging out at your place while eating the snacks you bought. 

The way you laughed at him, how easy it was to be around you, and how, for some reason, he found himself feeling… more than just amused.

The smile on your face earlier that day—genuine and warm—kept replaying in his mind, over and over. And he hated it. It was ridiculous how a simple smile, something so normal, could make his stomach twist in a way that left him more confused than he’d ever been.

He glanced at his phone. No messages. But then a notification popped up from no one other than you. You’d sent him a message after he’d dropped you off.

You:

thanks for today, Lan

i had fun

even though you’re a cheating dickhead :p

Lando smiled at the screen like a teenager in love, but quickly slapped his face, trying to stabilize his facial expression. Even though he was alone, it felt a little absurd to smile over a text. But that was from you. You always knew how to make him feel something, even in the smallest moments.

His fingers hovered over the screen. He had a million things he could say—some sarcastic, some teasing, some that maybe he really wanted to say. But he chose the simplest one, the kind of response that still had a little bit of that playful energy between the two of you.

Lando:

you’re welcome, sweetheart

glad i could teach you another lesson today

let me know when you’re ready to graduate to full-on grocery shopping ;)

It was light, harmless, but he felt a small jolt in his chest after sending it, like he was waiting for something. For what? He wasn’t sure.

He leaned back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling. The silence of the room almost felt suffocating. He didn’t know what to make of this… whatever it was that was happening between you two.

He liked you—he knew that, and it wasn’t just because you’ve known each other since primary school, made him laugh or challenged him. It was deeper than that, wasn’t it? 

He didn’t want to admit it, but it felt like you’d somehow slipped into the space in his life where no one else had been allowed.

It was annoying, really. Why was it so hard to admit? Why was he so afraid of what it meant?

Just as he thought about getting up and going to freshen up, his phone buzzed again. 

You:

i’ll keep that in mind lol

btw, thanks for another lesson

He laughed softly to himself, biting back a smile. You were always so quick with your words, so playful. It made everything seem… easier.

For a moment, he let the conversation sit there, letting the words linger in his mind. He felt something stirring—something different—but he couldn’t put his finger on it. 

Something that maybe had been there for a while, but that he hadn’t noticed until now. Or maybe, just maybe, he’d been choosing not to notice it.

And then, as though his brain couldn’t stop itself, his mind wandered back to those stupid moments from today—your laugh, the way your eyes lit up when you’d teased him during the lesson. The way his chest tightened when he caught your hand brushing against his while cleaning up the shelf, even if it was just for a second. The way he couldn’t stop thinking about how natural it all felt, how right it felt to be with you.

But you were still just his friend, right?

He sighed, glancing at his phone again, watching the screen go dark as the conversation faded. It was nothing. Nothing more than a friendship. Nothing more than today, anyway.

Lando stood up abruptly and walked over to his kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water. But the second he opened the fridge, he froze.

He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to feel about all of this. And it was driving him mad. Maybe it was just because you were such a huge part of his life—maybe it was just that. Maybe the little jokes, the constant teasing, the weird way he found himself thinking about you all the time. It was all just normal to him.

But the more he tried to convince himself of that, the more the doubt crept in. He couldn’t stop thinking about it—about you.

“Fuck.” He muttered to himself, leaning against the door of the fridge, gripping the bottle tightly in his hand. 

He’d been so determined not to let anything change, to keep this whole thing casual, lighthearted. But now? Now he wasn’t sure what it was anymore.

Lando took a long drink from the bottle and shook his head. He needed to stop. He needed to focus on something else—anything else. He needed to stop thi.

Oh, but it didn’t stop. The question lingered like an itch he couldn’t scratch. What was this?

He grabbed his phone again, thumb hovering over the screen, and then deleted the text he was about to send you. What could he even say? The words wouldn’t be enough. Maybe he just needed to sleep on it. Maybe tomorrow would make everything clearer.

Or maybe, deep down, he knew exactly what this was, but he wasn’t ready to face it yet.

────୨ৎ────

After a few weeks of playful lessons, things had been going surprisingly well. Lando’s tips—however smugly delivered—seemed to make sense, and you’d actually started to feel more confident. So, when a cute guy from a bookshop asked you out, you decided to test the waters without telling Lando.

Now, standing in front of him as he stared at you with narrowed eyes, you regretted not mentioning it.

“Wait— you what?” He asked, his voice sharp.

You winced at him. “I went on a date. Just to see if your advice was actually working.”

Lando leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. His usual teasing grin was gone, replaced by something tense and unreadable. “So, let me get this straight—you didn’t trust the lessons, and you went behind my back to… fact-check me?”

You frowned. “No, Lando. I wasn’t questioning you or your advice. I just wanted to— I don’t know, see if I could actually do this.”

His eyes narrowed, and his voice dropped slightly. “And? Did it work?” He asked nonchalantly.

You hesitated, suddenly unsure why you felt guilty. “Well… yeah, actually. He said I seemed confident and easy to talk to.”

Lando let out a humorless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Great. Glad I could help you land another date.”

You blinked, confused by his sudden bitterness. “Why are you being so weird about this? Isn’t this exactly what we were doing? You teach me, I try it out. What’s the big deal?”

He sighed deeply while looking away to the side. His jaw was tight, his arms still crossed.

“The big deal,” He said, his voice low, “Is that I thought this was about us working on something together, not you taking what I gave you and— ...and running off with it like it doesn’t matter.”

Your brow furrowed as you crossed your arms. “But it does matter! I wouldn’t have done half as well without you and your help. I just didn’t think I needed to check in with you before trying it out. ”

Lando scoffed, looking away as if to gather his thoughts. Then, almost too quietly, he muttered, “It’s not about the lessons.”

You froze. “What?”

He ran a hand over his face, frustrated. “Nah, never mind.”

“No, Lando. What do you mean it’s not about the lessons?” You pressed, stepping closer.

He hesitated, his eyes meeting yours for a moment before darting away. “It’s just… I didn’t think you’d actually go out with someone else, alright? Not after—” He cut himself off, biting the inside of his cheek.

Your heart thudded loudly in your chest. “Not after what?”

He let out a long breath, finally looking at you with an expression that was equal parts exasperation and something softer. “Not after this.” He gestured vaguely between the two of you.

You stared at him, confused and a little breathless. But then it struck you. “You’re jealous.”

“No, I’m not jealous.” He shot back quickly, but his tone betrayed him.

Your lips twitched into a smirk. “You’re totally jealous, Lando.”

“You’re missing the point!” He snapped, getting up from the chair, his frustration rising. But then he paused, realizing how close he was to you, and his voice softened. “I just— I thought maybe…” He trailed off, his eyes searching yours, and suddenly the air between you felt impossibly heavy.

“Thought what?” You whispered, your heart racing. 

Lando hesitated for a moment too long, then shook his head with a self-deprecating laugh. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter.”

But you knew it did matter. And now, for the first time, you were starting to understand why.

────୨ৎ────

You were standing in front of Lando’s apartment door, feeling strangely nervous for a reason you couldn’t quite place. Sure, you were used to the lessons by now—playful banter, lighthearted mockery, the usual. But today felt different. 

It had been weeks since that conversation where Lando seemed to hint at something deeper, and even though neither of you had addressed it directly, you felt the weight of it every time you saw him.

Your hand hovered over the doorbell, and just before you could press it, the door swung open, revealing Lando standing there, a small, knowing smirk on his face.

“Look who’s here early.” He teased, but there was something almost warm in his tone. 

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t ignore the way your heart fluttered at the sight of him. “Let’s just get this over with.” You muttered, trying to dismiss the uneasy feeling in your stomach.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You seem tense. That’s new. I thought we were past the awkward stage by now.”

You hesitated for a moment before stepping inside, keeping the mood light. “Maybe it’s because your lessons are starting to feel like a bad rom-com.”

Lando chuckled, leading you to the living room. “I told you I was a genius. Just wait. You’ll thank me when you’re out there with some hot guy and you’re getting all the attention.”

You rolled your eyes again, but your stomach fluttered, imagining what it would feel like to actually be seen like that. Confident, poised, able to captivate someone’s attention.

“Alright,” Lando said, suddenly more serious. He turned to face you, his posture shifting as he adopted a more intense, focused air. “Today’s lesson is about vulnerability.”

“Vulnerability?” You blinked as you repeated, trying to sound nonchalant, but you could already feel the walls in your chest start to rise. “Isn’t that a bit heavy for a lesson about dating?”

Lando nodded, his eyes serious now. “It’s important, though. People can sense when you’re holding back, when you’re not being real with them. If you want something deeper than just a casual fling, you need to be willing to be vulnerable. Not just with them—but with yourself.”

You stood still, his words sinking in slowly. This felt like it was crossing a line into something deeper, something far more personal. You weren’t sure if you were ready for it, and yet, a part of you knew that you had to be.

“Fine.” You said, trying to sound confident even as you felt the already said vulnerability creeping up inside you. “What do we do? Cry in a circle? Share our deepest fears?” You asked as you said on the floor, in front of the couch.

He sat down beside you, close enough that you could feel the heat from his body. It made the air between you crackle with tension, and you suddenly became hyper-aware of everything. His scent. His proximity. The way his eyes lingered just a little too long on you.

“Simple,” Lando replied, his voice dropping a little lower. “I’m going to ask you some questions, and this time—no dodging, no deflecting. Just be honest, okay?” He questioned to which you replied with a soft nod.

Lando was silent for a moment, as if picking his words carefully. “What’s something about yourself you don’t let other people see? Something you’ve been hiding because you’re scared to show it?”

You froze. You hadn’t expected a question like that. There were so many things you kept buried deep—things you didn’t even like to think about, let alone talk about with anyone.

“I—” You faltered, not sure how to answer. “I don’t know. Maybe… I guess I keep everyone at arm’s length. I don’t let anyone get too close.”

Lando’s eyes softened, his gaze intense, as if he was trying to read you in a way no one else ever had. “Why do you do that?”

You shifted uncomfortably. “Because… I don’t want to get hurt. If I let someone in too far, I know they could leave. I’ve seen it happen before.”

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he just nodded, as if taking in everything you had just said. 

Then, his voice was quieter, almost gentle. “I get that. But you know, if you don’t let anyone close, you’ll never know what it’s like to have someone who truly cares. To experience something real.”

The weight of his words settled heavily between you, and you felt your heart race, your pulse pounding in your ears. It was almost like you could hear your own fear in the way he spoke, and the vulnerability you had tried to guard so carefully was slowly cracking open.

You looked at him, your eyes locking, and for the first time in weeks, there was no joking, no playful teasing. Just raw, unspoken understanding.

Lando’s gaze softened, “Alright, second question. What’s your biggest relationship fear?”

The question hit you like a punch to the gut. You weren’t ready for this. You thought the first question was hard, but this actually hit too close to home. You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Guess he really wanted to make you feel vulnerable.

Lando’s gaze softened as he leaned back against the couch, arms crossed. His casual demeanor was a stark contrast to the tension that seemed to have settled between you two. 

You shifted uncomfortably under his stare, feeling the weight of his question hanging in the air.

He raised an eyebrow, his voice coaxing but still playful. “Trust me,” He teased, leaning a bit too close. “You’ve learned enough already to get by, now I want to know, what’s your biggest relationship fear?”

You hesitated, your mind spinning with the potential answers. Could you really tell him? Could you really let him see this side of you?

The weight of his gaze made your stomach tighten, and you instinctively looked away. Your throat tightened as the words got stuck. But Lando was persistent, his tone softening as he urged you on.

“C’mon, don’t hold back on me, alright?” He smiled, though there was an edge of concern beneath the teasing.

You sighed, feeling the vulnerability slip through your defenses like a crack in a dam. The question was simple, but it dug deeper than you expected. 

Your biggest fear? It wasn’t the fear of being alone, or of having bad dates, or of not being good enough. It was something much more raw.

You turned your gaze to the window, as if the quiet night outside could offer you some comfort.“I’m afraid of being too much,” You said softly, barely above a whisper. “Too loud, too emotional, too difficult to handle. I think that sometimes people get overwhelmed by me, and I always end up pushing them away without meaning to.”

The confession hung in the air, a weight you hadn’t realized you’d been carrying. You nervously fidgeted with the hem of your sleeve, avoiding Lando’s gaze. You didn’t want to see his judgment, didn’t want to see pity.

But then, you heard him move. His presence shifted beside you, and you blinked in surprise when you felt the light pressure of his hand on your thigh, where he gave you a small squeeze.

“Hey,” His voice was quieter, almost tender. “That’s not something to be ashamed of. Being a lot, or feeling deeply, doesn’t make you any less worthy of love. It makes you real.”

You swallowed hard, and finally dared to meet his eyes. There was no judgment there, no pity—just a quiet understanding that you weren’t sure you deserved.

“And I can assure you, you’re not the only one.” He said softly, his hand still resting on your arm, the warmth of it grounding you. “Tell me something I don’t know. I’m usually too much for some people. And I’ve got my own stuff I keep hidden too. Things I’m scared of showing because they might make people leave.”

You frowned, glancing at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Lando smirked but there was something in his eyes—a vulnerability that he rarely showed. “Guess we’re both pretty good at pretending everything’s fine, huh?”

His honesty was a jarring contrast to his usual banter. You felt a flutter in your chest, your emotions swirling, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was saying more than he was letting on. But the moment was fragile, so you held onto it—this quiet, raw connection that seemed to be growing between you two..

But then, before either of you could say anything more, there was a loud knock at the door, and the moment shattered. You both pulled back almost instinctively, like the world had shifted around you, leaving you both caught in the silence that followed.

“Right on cue.” He muttered, standing quickly and walking to the door.

You took a few moments to compose yourself, trying to shake off the rawness of the conversation, but it lingered like a storm cloud between you both.

As the door opened, Max stepped in, cans of beer in his hands while grinning. He glanced between you and Lando, his eyes flickered in curiosity, sensing the tension in the air but not quite understanding it.

“Did I interrupt something?” Max asked, his tone playful but a little teasing.

You gave him a tight smile, shaking your head. “No, you’re good. I was just heading out.”

Max raised an eyebrow, obviously skeptical, but he didn’t press the matter further. He nodded and flashed a quick smile at you. “Alright, well, I’ll leave you two to it. Catch you later.”

You nodded, muttering a quick goodbye to both of them before walking toward the door. Lando stood by the entrance, watching you go with a guarded expression, but something in his eyes—something soft, something unspoken—made your heart flutter, and you almost felt like turning back. But you didn’t.

You left his apartment, stepping out into the cool night air, the streetlights casting long shadows over the pavement. As you walked, your thoughts raced.

What had just happened?

Your heart still thudded loudly in your chest, your mind replaying the vulnerable words you’d both shared. 

You couldn’t stop thinking about Lando—how close he had been, how it felt like you were on the verge of something monumental, but then it all had been pulled away so abruptly. 

You wanted to understand it, but it was like trying to grasp smoke with your bare hands. You were certain you had just glimpsed something real between you—something that you both hadn’t acknowledged yet—but what was it?

Your steps slowed as you walked, the cool air biting at your skin, the questions swirling in your head. Why did it feel like something had shifted between you two? You weren’t sure, but you couldn’t deny the feeling that there was something more there. Something that was suddenly too real to ignore.

Was it the way his voice softened when he talked about his struggles? Or maybe it was the way his eyes had stayed on you for just a moment too long before the interruption of Max? You shook your head. It wasn’t that simple. But what if it was?

You reached your apartment building, your feet carrying you without much thought as you tried to put the evening into perspective. It wasn’t just the lessons anymore. It was about him. Lando.

You walked into your building and up the stairs, but all you could think about was that moment, when everything had nearly cracked open between you two.

What now?

────୨ৎ────

It had already been three months since Lando started these “dating lessons.” At first, you hated every moment of it. The early mornings, the awkward tips on what to say, the forced banter that seemed like it was straight out of some romance movie. You had thought the whole thing was ridiculous, a waste of time. 

You never signed up to learn how to date—it was just supposed to be you figuring it out. But now? Well, now it was different. You found yourself looking forward to it. The lessons didn’t feel like lessons anymore, they felt like moments spent with him. 

Lando’s sarcasm was easier to swallow, his teasing was less annoying, and you found yourself actually learning—not just about dating, but about the person you were becoming with each interaction.

The lessons had evolved from mere exercises in how to behave on a date to something more. There was the grocery store adventure where you both raced around the aisles, the heated debates about the best snack brands, the quiet nights spent in his apartment watching movies where you’d catch yourself laughing too hard at his jokes.

And then there was the way he had started to look at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention—the moments when his hand brushed against yours, the small smiles that lingered longer than usual. You weren’t sure when it had happened, but somewhere between his casual insults and your joking comebacks, something had shifted.

You found yourself wanting him more and more. Wanting to be around him, laugh with him, touch him. But you couldn’t tell him that, could you? You were supposed to be learning, not falling for him.

The night before, you’d spent hours talking in his kitchen over a takeout, sharing a bottle of wine. The banter was still there, but it was different. There was an electricity in the air, a tension that neither of you seemed to want to acknowledge. You laughed, but there was something softer about the way you looked at each other now.

Tonight, your group of friends decided to hit the club and chill out together.

The night was electric as you entered the club with your friends. The music thumped in your chest, the bright lights flashing in time with the beat, and the laughter of your group filled the air as you made your way to the VIP section. 

Alex was by your side, pulling you along, while Lando and Charles were chatting up with the staff, trying to get the best spot. Carlos and Rebecca were already ahead, eagerly chatting with the bartender about the best drinks of the night.

You were dressed up to the nines—a bold, black dress that hugged your figure just right, makeup that added to your confidence, and heels that made you feel like you were walking on air.

Every movement was self-assured, purposeful, but underneath it all, you felt the familiar flutter of nerves. It was a big night—your first real night out since those dating lessons with Lando, and small practice blind dates after deciding later with Lando that it was, indeed, practical.

You caught a glimpse of Lando in the crowd, looking effortlessly cool in a black button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up, and his signature smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. But as you locked eyes for a moment, something shifted between you. He stared for just a beat too long, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he felt it too. His gaze darkened with something unreadable, something that made your heart skip.

The club was alive with energy, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that Lando was watching you—really watching you. Every time you moved through the crowd, you felt his eyes follow your every step, and you knew it wasn’t just about the way you looked. His gaze was intense, and you couldn’t tell if he was angry or just… interested.

As the night wore on, Alex and you had mingled with the others, having fun, drinking, laughing, and meeting new people. You felt the buzz of alcohol loosening your usual inhibitions, but at the same time, you couldn’t help but still feel Lando’s presence, like an electric current running through the air. Every now and then, you’d catch him looking your way—his jaw tight, lips pressed together, as if he was holding something back.

One guy, a charming stranger with a cocky grin, approached you while you were chatting with Alex. He made some casual comment about your dress, a compliment that felt a little too insistent for your liking. You tried to brush him off politely, but he was persistent. And that’s when you saw it. Lando’s posture stiffened from across the room. His jaw clenched as he observed the whole exchange. It wasn’t just jealousy—it was a raw, protective energy that you couldn’t ignore.

Your heart raced in your chest. Why was this affecting you so much? Lando was just a friend, and the alcohol in your veins was making you feel about this differently. That’s all. But the way he was looking at you— no, the way he was staring, it made you feel things you weren’t prepared for.

“Hey, are you alright?” Alex asked, breaking through your thoughts.

“Yeah, just… a little tired,” You said quickly, waving it off. “Let’s just get another round, yeah?” You suggested, trying to shake away the thoughts of a certain, aquamarine eyed man.

The night continued, the drinks flowed freely, and you eventually found yourself standing in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by the heat of the crowd. Lando had suddenly joined you, and as if it was all part of some unspoken plan, he pulled you closer, hand at the small of your back. Your breath hitched as he led you into the rhythm, the music pulsing around you like the beating of a shared heart.

The chemistry between you was undeniable, and on the dance floor, it felt like everything fell away. All you could feel was him. His movements were fluid, confident, and his hands—oh, his hands. They were occupying your waist, guiding you, but also holding you in a way that felt almost intimate.

Your body swayed against his with the music, each movement a little more daring than the last, a little more intimate. The space between you two closed, and suddenly, it wasn’t just dancing anymore—it was something much, much more. Every subtle shift of his body, every moment when he pressed a little closer, felt like a promise. Your chest brushed against his with every step, the air between you electric.

Lando’s lips were close to your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re really good at this, sweetheart,” He murmured, his voice rough, as though he was struggling to keep himself composed. “I don’t remember teaching you this.”

You tilted your head back, catching his gaze, and you were met with something that made your stomach flutter. His eyes were dark, pupils dilated, and you could see the flicker of something unsaid in them. 

Your pulse quickened as his hand slid lower down your back, pulling you even closer. The music swirled around you, but in that moment, all you could hear was the sound of your own heart racing.

“I’m just following your lead.” You whispered back, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips. But your voice betrayed you, breaking just a little as you felt a rush of heat flood through you.

Lando’s grip tightened, his hand now resting against the curve of your waist, his thumb brushing the soft skin just below your ribcage. He was so close. Your lips were inches apart, your breath mingling in the small gap between you. You could feel the heat of his body, the tension that was growing, pulling you in. It felt like an inevitable pull, like everything had been leading to this moment.

But just as you leaned in, as your lips were just about to meet, a loud voice cut through the noise of the club.

“Hey! Another round of shots, guys!” Carlos yelled from across the dance floor, completely oblivious to the burning tension that had just built between you and Lando.

Both of you froze, stepping back slightly, your heart thundering in your chest. Lando cleared his throat awkwardly, giving you a half-smile, but his eyes couldn’t hide the frustration, the want that had been building just moments ago.

“Yeah— shots. Right.” He muttered, still catching his breath.

You felt the cold air hit your face as the space between you widened. The magic of the moment shattered, leaving an uncomfortable silence hanging in the air.

As you both made your way back to the group, there was an unspoken tension between you, thick and unresolved. Your thoughts were a mess, and it felt like your body was still alive with the electricity of that almost-kiss. But now, as you rejoined the others, it was as though nothing had happened. 

You both put on your masks—smiles, laughter, easy banter. But underneath, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of what was left unsaid and undone.

────୨ৎ────

The late afternoon sun streamed into the cozy living room of Alex and Charles’ apartment, casting warm hues over the array of half-empty snack bowls and scattered magazines. 

You sat cross-legged on the couch, a fuzzy blanket draped over your lap, while Alex leaned against the armrest, gently stroking Leo who slept next to her. 

Charles was out for work related things, and Lando was thank God busy hanging out with his friends from Quadrant. That left a perfect opportunity for both of you to finally meet and for you to escape from him.

Hanging out with Alex was so comfortable and effortless for you. She was a great friend, and you always felt like you didn’t have to pretend to be someone you weren’t when you were with her. Laughter filled the room as the two of you gossiped about everything and nothing.

“I’m telling you, the barista at that café definitely has a thing for Charles,” Alex said, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “She’s been giving him extra foam hearts in his coffee for weeks now. As if she doesn’t know he’s already taken.” She added chuckling at the end.

You laughed, holding a cup of tea. “Please, and he probably thinks it’s just good customer service.”

Alex snorted. “God, you’re so right. That man’s clueless unless it’s about racing, Leo or what tie matches his suit.”

The conversation flowed easily, as it always did with Alex. It wasn’t until there was a lull that she glanced at you with a curious tilt of her head.

“So… how are things going with Lando?”

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you froze. Did she know about what happened in the club? Or what have you two been doing recently?

Memories of the lessons, the banter, and the night at the club with almost kissing each other flashed through your mind. You had to stop yourself from blurting it all out then and there. Instead, you swallowed hard, forcing a casual smile.

“Oh, you know,” You said, waving a hand dismissively. “Same as always. He’s still… Lando.”

You skipped the detail that since the night out, you two haven’t hung out or had your lesson yet. You barely texted each other, the unspoken words and tension from that memorable night still vivid in your minds.

Alex raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “And the dates? How’s the whole ‘finding the one’ thing going?”

You scrambled for an answer, laughing nervously as you tried to keep your cool. “Oh, still terrible. Absolute disasters every time. Honestly, it’s like a bad rom-com at this point.”

Alex laughed, thankfully buying your excuse. She reached for a piece of chocolate from the coffee table and popped it into her mouth. “Well, maybe that’s about to change.” She suggested, a sly smile spreading across her face.

You furrowed your brow, tilting your head. “What do you mean?” You asked, taking a sip of your tea.

“Joshua,” She said, leaning closer as though she was letting you in on a secret. “He’s coming to Monaco in a month.”

“Joshua?” You asked, the name unfamiliar.

“My lifelong friend,” Alex explained, her excitement bubbling over. “He’s absolutely lovely. Smart, funny, sweet, and charming. Basically, the perfect guy you could’ve thought of. I’ve always thought he and you might hit it off.” 

Your stomach twisted uncomfortably at her words, but you forced yourself to keep your expression neutral. “Oh,” You blurted out, trying to sound nonchalant. “That’s— nice.”

“Nice? Are you kidding me?” Alex said, sitting up straighter while also watching out not to wake up Leo. “He’s perfect for you. And he’s single. I’ll introduce you when he gets here.”

You hesitated, feeling a strange heaviness settle over you. “I don’t know, Alex…”

“Come on!” She urged, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “What’s the worst that could happen? One date, just one. And if it’s a disaster, I’ll never bring it up again. But I really think you’ll like him.”

After a moment of silence, you sighed, relenting under her hopeful gaze. “Alright, fine. One date.”

Alex clapped her hands, grinning from ear to ear. “Yes! You won’t regret this, I promise. Joshua is amazing.”

You laughed lightly, but as the conversation shifted back to lighter topics, a nagging feeling lingered in your chest. The thought of going on a date with someone new felt… strange. Unsettling. You told yourself it was just nerves, but deep down, you couldn’t shake the image of a certain someone’s lopsided grin and teasing eyes.

As Alex continued to talk, you found yourself half-listening, your thoughts drifting elsewhere. 

What would Lando think about this? Would he even care?

The uneasy feeling in your stomach didn’t fade, and as Alex’s laughter filled the room, you couldn’t help but wonder if agreeing to the date was a mistake.

────୨ৎ────

The warm night air was thick with tension as you leaned against the hood of Lando’s McLaren, the Monaco skyline stretching out behind you in a sea of glittering lights. 

This was supposed to be just another lesson, but something had shifted between you. Every touch, every lingering look—it all felt heavier, like you were teetering on the edge of something you couldn’t name.

Lando stood a few feet away, his hands stuffed in his pockets, watching you with a strange mix of curiosity and hesitation. He was always so confident, so sure of himself, but tonight there was an unspoken weight in the way his gaze lingered on you.

“Alright,” He finally said, breaking the silence. His tone was casual, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper. “Tonight’s lesson is about the end of date scenarios. The big moment—to kiss or not to kiss.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to ignore the way your heart fluttered at his words. “Haven’t we already covered this? Or are you just using this as an excuse to make me feel awkward again?”

He smirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Awkwardness is part of the process. Trust me, it builds character.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Fine. Teach me, Norris.”

Lando stepped closer, leaning against the car next to you. The air between you grew charged, the familiar push-and-pull of your dynamic shifting into something more.

“Okay,” He said, his voice dropping slightly. “Picture this—the end of a date. You’ve had a good time, he’s dropping you off, and you’re standing there wondering if he’s going to make a move. What do you do?”

“I don’t know,” You replied honestly, feeling the weight of his gaze. “Wait for him to do something, I guess.”

Lando made a sound of a wrong buzzer with his mouth, “Wrong,” He said, shaking his head. “You don’t wait. You take control, muppet. If you want to kiss him, you make it happen.”

You hesitated, the memory of the club flashing through your mind. The way his hands had gripped your waist as you danced together, the heat of his breath against your ear, the way his eyes had burned into yours like there was no one else in the room. 

You’d been so close—too close—and yet, something had pulled you apart before it could happen.

Lando must have noticed the way your expression shifted because his tone softened. “Hey,” he said gently, leaning in slightly. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Nothing,” You lied, forcing a smile. “Just trying to keep up with your endless wisdom.”

He studied your face for a moment, then tilted his head, his smirk returning. “Alright, let’s see if you’ve actually been paying attention. Lean in like you mean it. Show me that you’re not afraid to go for what you want.”

Your breath hitched as he stepped closer, his body just inches from yours. He raised a hand, lightly brushing a strand of hair away from your face, and the world seemed to narrow to just the two of you.

“Eye contact,” He reminded you softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t break it.”

You swallowed hard, your heart racing as your eyes locked with his. The memory of the club resurfaced again—how close you’d been to kissing him, how much you’d wanted it. And now, standing here under the Monaco sky, it felt like history was repeating itself.

“Lan...” You uttered, your voice trembling slightly.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. The air between you was electric, every inch of your skin buzzing with anticipation.

“I need to tell you something.” You mumbled, trying to steady your voice. Lando hummed in question, his eyes still locked on yours.

And then, like a splash of cold water, you blurted out, “Alex is setting me up with her friend. Apparently, he’s perfect and coming to Monaco in a month.”

Lando froze, his hand dropping back to his side. He stepped back a little. The tension between you shattered, replaced by a strange, almost palpable stillness.

“Perfect?” He repeated, his tone sharp. “That’s a strong word. What makes him so perfect?”

You shrugged, trying to keep your tone casual, though you felt the weight of the conversation pressing down on you. “I don’t know, but Alex seems convinced. She’s been hyping him up.”

Lando’s eyes darkened, and he let out a mocking laugh. “Oh... great. Another guy with a glowing resume. Does he like long walks on the beach, too?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, though the sound felt more nervous than amused. “Why are you being so weird about this? It’s not just any date, Lan,” You continued, your voice a little quieter now. “Alex practically thinks he’s my soulmate.”

Lando forced a laugh, but it didn’t sound genuine. “Sounds like your soulmate’s got a packed calendar if you had to book him a month out.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep it light. “He’s flying in from New York, okay? It’s not like I picked this date on purpose.”

Lando’s expression darkened even further, and his gaze flickered toward the ground. He shifted on his feet, a frown tugging at his lips. “You really think this guy’s perfect, huh?”

You nodded, though you couldn’t quite explain why you weren’t sure about it yourself. “I mean— I guess we’ll see.” You fiddled with your hands, stress creeping in.

His voice was low, almost bitter. “Whatever. Hope Alex’s golden boy doesn’t disappoint.”

You blinked, shocked by the sudden shift in his tone. His words stung, more than you expected. Before you could respond, he turned toward the car, his shoulders tense, jaw clenched.

“Lesson’s over.” He muttered, not looking back as he opened the car door and got inside.

You stood there, still by the hood of the McLaren, staring after him. Your chest felt tight, your mind spinning with confusion and something else you couldn’t quite identify. 

Something had shifted between you tonight—something that felt like it couldn’t be undone. You had no idea where this was heading, but for the first time, you were afraid that the lessons weren’t just about dating anymore

They were about something more.

And you didn’t know if you were ready to face it.

With a sigh, you came up to the car door and got in the car. Lando didn’t even bat an eye at you, driving away with a screech of the tires.

────୨ৎ────

You were curled up on the couch, scrolling aimlessly through your phone when it buzzed with a call. Alex’s name lit up on the screen, and you hesitated for a moment before answering.

“Hi Alex.” You said, tucking the phone between your shoulder and ear as you adjusted your blanket.

“Hi girl, what’s up?” Alex’s cheery voice greeted you, the familiar sound instantly making you smile.

“Not much. Just a quiet night in.” You replied, settling back into the cushions.

“Perfect timing then,” Alex said, a teasing lilt in her voice. “Guess who asked about you again?”

You already knew who she was talking about, but you feigned ignorance. “Umm, Leo?”

Alex laughed. “Not even close. Joshua! I showed him your Instagram, by the way.”

“You what?” You asked, sitting up slightly, startled.

“Relax,” Alex reassured you. “He said you’re even prettier than I described. Which, by the way, is saying a lot because I hyped you up a lot.” Her warm laugh echoed in your phone.

Your stomach did a small flip, but you forced a faint smile, even though Alex couldn’t see it. “That’s sweet.”

“Sweet?” Alex teased. “That’s all you’ve got to say? This guy is a total catch, you know. And he’s so excited to meet you. I’m telling you, he’s perfect for you.”

You let out a small laugh, hoping it masked the unease creeping in. “You’ve got your matchmaking hat on full-time now, huh?”

“I’m just saying,” Alex replied, her tone softening. “You’re not freaking out, are you? He’s seriously a great guy.”

“No, I’m fine,” You lied, trying to sound more certain than you felt. “Just… a lot going on, you know?”

There was a pause on Alex’s end, then a softer tone. “Hey, if you’re nervous, that’s okay. But trust me, Josh is worth it. You don’t have to rush into anything, but I think you’ll really like him.”

You exhaled, leaning your head back against the couch. “Thanks, Alex. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good,” Alex said, and you could practically hear her smile. “We’ll talk more soon, okay? Just wanted to check in.”

“Alright. Thanks for calling.” You replied.

As the call ended, you placed your phone down and stared at the ceiling. Alex’s words hung heavy in the air. Joshua was great—you had no reason to doubt that. But as much as you wanted to feel excited, all you felt was… unsettled.

Your thoughts drifted, unbidden, to someone else entirely. Someone who wasn’t always perfect in the ways Alex described but who somehow felt more real, more right. 

And that thought only made your chest tighten as you sat there, wondering why everything felt so much more complicated than it needed to be.

────୨ৎ────

Your date was almost knocking at your door, as another weeks went by.

You hadn’t heard from Lando all day, and that alone was enough to have your mind racing. It wasn’t like him to go silent without a reason, especially after a night out in a club. He'd usually send you a “i'm home” text, yet this time—nothing.

You had tried texting and calling, but there had been no reply. You could feel your concern growing, a gnawing feeling settling in your stomach. So, without a second thought, you grabbed your jacket and headed to his place.

You knew where he kept the spare key. He had told you once when you’d been joking about breaking in if he ever locked himself out. You hadn’t expected to actually use it, but tonight, something in you told you that you needed to check on him.

When you arrived at his apartment, you grabbed the key from its usual hiding spot under the small flower pot near the door. It was a small moment of normalcy, but it made your heart beat a little faster. 

The door creaked open, and you stepped inside, immediately sensing the quiet. “Lan?” You called softly, your voice echoing through the empty hallway. No answer. 

You moved through the apartment, calling his name again, but it was only when you reached the living room that you found him. He was laying on the couch, eyes closed. His face was flushed, and the faint smell of alcohol hung in the air. It was clear that he’d had more than a few drinks.

“Lando?” You asked again, this time more urgently as you stepped closer.

He didn’t respond, and for a moment, panic flickered in your chest. You rushed to his side, carefully placing a hand on his shoulder to shake him awake.

“Mhm?” His voice was barely a whisper, and he opened his eyes slowly, blinking as though the light bothered him. His gaze focused on you, a weak, hazy smile tugging at his lips.

“Hi,” He mumbled, his words slurring a little. “What are you doing here?”

“I was worried. You haven’t replied to any of my texts for the whole day,” You answered, kneeling down in front of him to get a better look at his face. “How much did you drink?”

Lando waved his hand dismissively. “I’m fine.” He replied to your question, but the way he swayed slightly as he sat made it clear he wasn’t.

“Right,” You said with a forced smile, trying not to sound too concerned. “Let’s get you to bed.”

You moved to help him, but Lando suddenly swatted your hands away, blinking up at you in frustration. “I don’t need your help.” He grumbled. His words were hard to understand as his speech slurred, but you could tell he was stubborn even in his drunken state.

“You can barely stand, you muppet,” You said, trying to hide the irritation in your voice. “Let me help.”

But he shook his head, his voice bitter. “Why does it even matter? You don’t care, not like that.”

His words took you by surprise. “What are you talking about?” You asked, trying to steady him.

He looked at you, eyes unfocused, and let out a bitter laugh. “You’re just here to check on me because you have to. You don’t really care. You’ve got a date coming up, right?”

You paused, taken aback by his words. “Lando, you’re drunk. This isn’t—”

“Sure,” He interrupted, his tone harsh. “I’m drunk, so it doesn’t matter, right? It’s fine. But I don’t want you to go.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you just stayed quiet, your mind racing. This wasn’t like him—he was normally so teasing, so sarcastic. But right now, there was something raw and vulnerable in his voice. It was like the alcohol had loosened something inside him that he kept hidden.

You helped him stand, gently guiding him to his bedroom. He didn’t resist this time, but as you helped him onto the bed, his gaze stayed locked on you.

“Why are you doing this?” Lando asked suddenly, his voice weak and tired. He wasn’t fully coherent, but there was something in his eyes that made your chest tighten.

You hesitated for a second. The question threw you off guard. You were just trying to make sure he was okay, weren’t you?

“Because you’re my best friend,” You said after a beat, hoping the answer would be enough. “And I care about you.”

Lando studied your face for a moment, as if trying to understand your answer, before giving you a tired, half-smiling nod. His eyes started to flutter closed, but not before he muttered, “Thanks for always looking out for me.”

You couldn’t help but smile faintly, feeling a strange warmth in your chest. But then, just before he drifted off, his voice came again, quieter, almost like a whisper.

“You’re always looking out for me but... I just don’t want to lose you.”

You froze.

His words hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, you stood there, staring at him as his breath evened out and he fell asleep. Your heart raced in your chest, confusion swirling in your mind. What did he mean by that?

You quietly turned to leave, but as you closed the door behind you, you felt a strange heaviness in your chest. You couldn’t stop thinking about Lando’s words, but you quickly shook your head.

No, it didn’t mean anything. He was drunk. It was just a slip of the tongue.

You pulled out your phone, glancing at the message from Joshua about your date. You couldn’t let yourself get distracted. You had a date. A very good date. And you had a plan.

But even as you walked back to your own apartment, the words from Lando lingered in your mind.

“I just don’t want to lose you.”

You tried to push the thought away, but it wouldn’t leave.

────୨ৎ────

The morning light pierced through the blinds, casting an almost painful brightness across Lando’s apartment. 

His head throbbed in protest as he slowly opened his eyes, the remnants of last night’s alcohol still lingering in his system. He groaned and buried his face in the pillow, trying to drown out the faint, nagging voice in his head. The bed felt colder than it had before, and there was an emptiness in his chest that he couldn’t shake.

He dragged himself up, rubbing his temples and trying to piece together the fragmented memories of the night. The drinks, the loud music, the laughter with his friends and other unknown girls. And then you. You had shown up, of course. You were always there when he needed you. But… something had happened.

His breath hitched as a flash of the night’s conversation resurfaced—your voice, soft and distant, asking why he was being like this. His own words echoed in his mind, although they sounded different now, like a stranger had said them.

I just don’t want to lose you.

He couldn’t remember exactly what else he’d said, but he could feel the weight of it, like it had been too much to bear. Why had he said that?

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to erase the memory of your shocked expression. The alcohol had loosened his tongue, but now, sober and humiliated, he wanted to crawl under the blankets and disappear.

Lando took a deep breath and stood up, pacing around his apartment, trying to get his bearings. He couldn’t let that mess be the thing that defined him. He’d always been in control, and now was no different. Besides, you were probably already over it.

There was no point in worrying about it. Not when he had other things to focus on. Like the fact that you were going on a date soon. With Joshua.

The name felt like a punch in the gut. His stomach twisted, and he quickly pushed the thought away. Focus, Lando. He needed to act normal. He was always calm, collected. He wasn’t going to let his feelings mess things up.

When he texted you, it was simple, his usual teasing tone, though underneath it, there was a tension that only he could feel.

Lando:

you still alive after last night or did police arrest you for breaking into someone’s apartment?

The reply came quickly, as expected.

You:

haha, you wish.

still alive after taking care of someone’s stupid ass who was being an emotional mess

guess that’s what friends are for lmao

His thumb hovered over the phone screen for a moment. Emotional mess. He hated how true that was. He was an emotional mess, especially when it came to you. But you had a date with Joshua coming up, and he couldn’t let it show. He couldn’t let it ruin the dynamic between you two. Not when things had been going so well between you.

Lando pushed his phone aside and took a quick shower to clear his head. When he was done, he put on his usual grin and got to work, focusing on anything that would take his mind off what was coming. He needed to get back to his usual self. The confident, carefree guy who never let anything get to him.

But then you sent him a message about meeting up for your next lesson, and his stomach sank again. The timing couldn’t have been worse. He was already wound tight, and now, the pressure was building even more.

When you arrived at his place, there was a brief but noticeable pause before you greeted him. It was subtle, but Lando caught it. He tried to push the lingering anxiety aside—keep it cool.

You gave him a quick smile, but there was something else in your eyes. A certain hesitance that hadn’t been there before. The lessons had been going well, so why the change in energy?

“You alright?” He asked, trying to sound casual as he leaned against the counter.

You nodded but didn’t look at him fully. “Yeah. Just… a lot going on.”

Lando raised an eyebrow. A lot going on? The words struck a nerve. Of course, you were thinking about Joshua. 

He swallowed hard, not letting it show. “You’re still planning on going on that date, right?” The words escaped before he could stop them, and as soon as they did, he regretted it.

You glanced at him, surprised by the sharpness in his tone. “Yeah, I am. Why?”

He shrugged, pretending to be unaffected. “No reason. Just wondering if you were still sticking to it.”

You gave him a look, like you knew something was off. But you didn’t push. Instead, you cleared your throat and moved to the couch, sitting down as if to signal that the lesson was about to begin. Lando tried to focus, but all he could think about was the date.

What if Joshua was the guy you were supposed to be with? What if he was the one who could give you everything Lando couldn’t?

The thought gnawed at him, and he couldn’t shake it. You had told him that you weren’t sure about Joshua, but deep down, Lando knew that if you were really unsure, you wouldn’t be going at all.

“Alright, today’s lesson is all about instincts,” He started, his gaze lingering a little longer than usual. “I want you to stop thinking so much. Trust yourself. Sometimes, you just need to listen to your gut.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’ve been trying to do that. But sometimes my gut says the wrong thing.”

Lando chuckled softly, his gaze briefly softening. “I get that. But on a date? You can’t overthink everything. You need to trust what feels right in the moment. You are capable of doing that, you know?”

You bit your lip, a little uncertain. “I don’t know. Sometimes I just freeze, or I say the wrong thing and everything feels awkward.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes intense. “That’s the thing. Everyone feels that way. The best thing you can do is not let that fear control you. You can’t let your mind take over. Focus on how you feel in the moment and act on it.”

You swallowed, feeling a knot form in your stomach. You weren’t sure if it was nerves or something else. “But what if— what if it’s the wrong feeling?” You asked, hesitating.

Lando’s gaze softened as he took a step closer to you, his voice quieter. “There’s no such thing as the ‘wrong’ feeling, not in the beginning. You just have to go with it. Be in the moment.”

The air between you seemed to thicken, and you suddenly realized how close he was. You could feel his warmth, his breath even, and it made your heart race. 

Lando’s eyes flickered down to your lips for a moment before quickly meeting your gaze. “You’ve been so careful with everything. But sometimes, you have to stop being careful and just… feel.”

You looked down at your hands, unsure of what to say. The lesson was starting to feel different—more personal, more intense than usual.

“Tell me,” Lando started, his voice now lower, “When you’re on a date with... Joshua, what’s the first thing you’re going to do?”

You took a deep breath, feeling a little nervous. “I— I don’t know. Maybe just let myself relax? Be myself?”

Lando nodded slowly, almost as if thinking about something, before meeting your gaze again. “That’s a good start. Trust yourself, and don’t second guess yourself. You’ve got everything you need.”

His words were grounding, but they also felt like a weight on your chest. For a second, you could almost imagine being with someone else, letting go of all the doubts you’d held onto for so long.

You stood up suddenly, feeling antsy. “I— I think I get it. Thanks, Lan.”

Lando watched you, but something flickered behind his eyes. “You’re welcome,” He replied quietly, though his gaze lingered on you for a moment too long. “But remember, it’s more about trusting yourself than anything else.”

Before you could respond, Lando’s phone buzzed. He glanced at it and sighed, like he was already distracted by whatever it was.

You couldn’t help but feel a pang in your chest, a feeling that you weren’t sure you understood. Why did the thought of him not being there for you—for this—suddenly feel so heavy?

“Alright,” You said, forcing a smile, “I think that’s enough for today.” You turned to leave, but as you reached the door, Lando’s voice stopped you.

“Hey,” He said, standing up. “One last thing. If you get nervous, or if things start to feel like they’re going wrong, just take a moment and breathe. Don’t let anyone rush you. You’ll know what’s right when you feel it.”

You smiled faintly, nodding. “Got it. Thanks again, Lan.”

As you left his apartment, you couldn’t help but replay his words in your head. Trust yourself. Was it really that simple?

But then, a thought flashed through your mind. What if you trusted him instead?

And just like that, the confusion was back. But you pushed it down. 

After all, you were preparing for that date with Joshua, and that was what mattered, right?

────୨ৎ────

You stood in front of the mirror, staring at your reflection as a wave of panic rolled over you. Your dress was.. perfect. It hugged your curves perfectly, fitting you like a glove. Your makeup was flawless, the jewelry you picked was immaculate, and yet you felt completely and utterly wrong.

The clock on the wall ticked loudly, constantly reminding you about how close you were from the time where you had to leave for your date with Joshua. Each passing second made your breathing feel more shallow. 

You grabbed your phone, scrolling mindlessly through social media, notifications, anything to distract yourself. But the one notification you were hoping for—a message from Lando—was nowhere to be found.

“Stop it,” You muttered under your breath. “You’re fine. You’re fine.”

Okay, the pep talk didn’t help. You weren’t, indeed, fine.

Without thinking, you opened your chat with him and fired off a quick message.

You:

omfg

i’m freaking the fuck out

can you call me?

please

Your phone buzzed almost immediately. Of course.

You swiped the incoming call from Lando to answer, and put the phone to your ear. “I can’t do this.” You didn’t even bother to greet him. 

“Hello to you too, sweetheart,” He said, his voice teasing but warm. “Now, let’s take a deep breath and tell me— what’s going on?”

“Lan, I feel sick,” You said, emphasizing the last word as you were pacing around the room. “I don’t know why I’m doing this. This is so stupid. I’m stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” He replied, his tone softening. “You’re just nervous. It’s normal before a date you’re looking forward to.”

“But it doesn’t feel normal,” You muttered, pressing a hand to your forehead. “I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

“Well, don’t,” He chuckled lightly. “That’d be a bad first impression, and as far as I remember I didn’t teach you to do that.”

You groaned, throwing yourself on the bed. “Lando, this isn’t funny.”

“Okay, okay,” He snickered, and you could hear the slight shuffle of movement on his end. “Look, it’s just a date. You’re not marrying the guy tonight, are you?”

“That’s not helping!” You snapped, straightening quickly on the bed.

“Alright, let’s try this,” He said, his voice taking on the calm, steady tone he always used when you were on the verge of losing it. “You’ve been on the practice dates before, yeah?”

“Yeah, because of you!”

Even when you couldn’t see him now, you knew he rolled his eyes humorously at you. “And how did those go?” You hesitated, before finally answering, “Fine.”

“Exactly. “You’re a pro now, sweetheart.” He laughed on the other side of the call. 

“Lan,” You mumbled, your voice dropping into something almost pleading. “What if I mess this up? What if he hates me?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, just long enough to make you wonder if he was still there. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. “He’s not going to hate you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” He said, his tone firm. “Because you’re funny, you’re smart, and beautiful. If this guy can’t see that, then he doesn’t deserve you.”

You blinked, his words settling over you like a soft blanket. Your heart twisted in your chest, a pang of something unnameable making it hard to breathe.

“You really think that?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh, I know that,” He replied, and for a moment, his usual teasing edge was gone.

The sincerity in his voice made your throat tighten, and you had to turn away from the mirror to keep from crying.

“Okay,” You said, exhaling shakily. “I’ll give it a shot.”

“That’s my girl,” He giggled, his tone lighter now. “And hey, think of it as a test. See if all those lessons I gave you paid off.” Lando added.

“Right,” You said, though your chest felt heavier at his words. “The lessons.”

“Well, this might be the last one.” He added softly, and something about the way he said it made your stomach drop.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” He replied quickly. “Just… you know, if it goes well with Joshua, you won’t need me anymore, right?”

Your heart clenched painfully, but you forced a laugh. “Yeah... no pressure, then.”

“Exactly,” He said, and you could almost hear the smile in his voice. “Now go knock his socks off, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, though your voice wavered. “Thanks, Lan.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.” He replied, and you hung up before you could change your mind.

As you stared at your reflection again, you felt a pang of guilt twisting in your chest. His words were supposed to calm you, and they did—sort of. But the idea of this being the last “lesson” you’d ever have with Lando felt like a loss you weren’t ready to face.

────୨ৎ────

You stepped out of the cab in front of the restaurant you both decided to meet at, your heart pounding heavily in your chest. The air was crispy against your bare legs, the streetlights casting a soft glow over the cobblestone street, and the faint sound of waves crashing against the shore filled the air.

Joshua was already waiting by the entrance, looking effortlessly put-together in a black, unbuttoned shirt with black pants. He spotted you almost immediately and waved with a bright smile, his easy charm already on display.

“Hey!” He said as you approached, his warm, inviting tone doing little to calm your nerves.

“Hi.” You replied, forcing a smile as you adjusted the strap of your bag.

Your name rolled out of his mouth smoothly, “You look amazing.” He said, his eyes flicking over your outfit appreciatively.

“Thanks.” You murmured, heat already rising to your cheeks.

He held the door open for you, and you stepped inside, the soft hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses filling the cozy, upscale restaurant. The hostess led you to a small table by the window, where the view of theMonaco’s harbor sparkled under the moonlight. 

It was romantic, picturesque—the kind of setting that should have made your heart flutter.

But it didn’t.

Joshua was polite, funny, and attentive, just as Alex had promised. He asked you about your work, your favorite travel destinations, even your guilty-pleasure movies. He laughed at your jokes, nodded along to your stories, and seemed genuinely interested in everything you had to say.

And yet, your mind kept drifting.

As he talked about his plans to sail around the Greek islands next summer, you found yourself thinking about how Lando always teased you about your terrible sense of direction. When Joshua laughed at a joke you made, you couldn’t help but compare it to Lando’s laugh—the one that was louder, freer, and always made you laugh harder. And when Joshua leaned in slightly, his hand brushing against yours as he reached for his glass, your stomach twisted, not in excitement, but in unease.

You excused yourself to the restroom, needing a moment to breathe. The second you stepped inside, you leaned against the sink, staring at your reflection in the mirror.

“What is wrong with me?” You whispered to yourself.

Joshua was perfect. Objectively, undeniably perfect. So why did you feel so… empty?

You closed your eyes, gripping the edge of the sink as memories of Lando flooded your mind. His voice, his smile, the way he always knew how to pull you out of your head and make you laugh. The way he’d given so much of himself to help you. The way he looked at you sometimes—like you were the only person in the room.

Your eyes stung, tears threatening to spill. It wasn’t Joshua. It wasn’t the date. It was you, and Lando had been right all along. It was always about you. But it wasn’t the way you’d thought. The problem wasn’t that you were bad at dating or incapable of having normal dates with someone. The problem was that you’d been blind to what you really wanted.

And what you wanted wasn’t here. It was him.

You washed your hands in cold water, trying to push the irritating thoughts away and compose yourself before heading back to the table.

“Everything okay?” Joshua asked, his expression kind but concerned.

“Yeah.” You said, forcing a smile as you sat back down.

Joshua quickly launched into another story—something about a hilarious misunderstanding during a work trip—but you barely heard him. Every word he said was drowned out by the realization that had taken root in your chest, growing stronger with every passing second.

When the bill came, Joshua insisted on paying, and you didn’t argue. As he walked you outside, the cool night air hit you like a wake-up call.

“I had a really great time tonight,” He said, his smile genuine. “You’re incredible.”

“Thank you,” You replied, and you meant it. “You’re really great too.”

He hesitated, his eyes searching yours. “Maybe we could do this again sometime?”

Your heart sank, but you wanted to say yes. You wanted to want to say yes. But the words just wouldn’t come for you.

Instead, you smiled sadly. “I— I’ll think about it.”

Joshua seemed to understand, his smile dimming slightly but still warm. “Now let me give you a ride back home. Shall we?” He insisted, leading the way to his car.

As Joshua opened the door for you, you got into the car quickly, sinking in the passenger seat. Your eyes wandered outside the window, observing the couples that still sat in the restaurant. They looked so happy together, and someone might have thought the same while staring at Joshua and you a few moments ago. But deep down you knew that you were far from being happy now.

────୨ৎ────

The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of his monitor and the bright neon sign behind him. Max’s voice came through the headset, lighthearted and teasing as always, but Lando could barely hear him. His hand gripped the computer mouse, and the other hand was focused on the keyboard, yet his movements were sluggish, half-hearted.

“Lando, mate, what are you doing?” Max’s exasperated tone broke through the haze. “You’re playing like a grandpa. Are you even trying?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lando muttered, forcing himself to focus on the screen. But the truth was, he wasn’t trying. He couldn’t concentrate.

Because all he could think about was you.

You on that date. With him.

The thought made his stomach churn, a bitter taste settling at the back of his throat. He hadn’t been able to stop picturing it since the moment you’d left. You, in that dress, looking absolutely stunning. You laughing at some joke that wasn’t his. You leaning in, your attention fully on someone else.

“Lando?” Max’s voice came again, a mix of confusion and concern now.

“Yeah, sorry,” Lando said quickly, clearing his throat. “I’m just tired, man. Think I’m gonna call it a day.”

“Already?” Max sounded genuinely surprised.

“Yeah, I’m knackered,” Lando lied, forcing a laugh that sounded hollow even to his own ears. “Catch you later.”

“Alright,” Max said after a pause. “But get some sleep, okay? You’ve been weird all night.”

“Yeah, yeah. Bye chat.” Lando mumbled, saying goodbye to Max’s chat. He has never shut down the game and logged off so quickly in his entire life.

The silence that followed was deafening. He leaned back in his chair, letting his head fall against the headrest as he stared at the ceiling.

You were still out. On the date. And he had no idea how it was going.

Was he good enough for you? The question gnawed at him, sharp and relentless. Was he making you laugh? Was he listening to you the way he always did? Did you feel comfortable with him, safe? Did you feel… happy?

Lando squeezed his eyes shut, pressing the heels of his palms against them as if that could stop the flood of thoughts.

He’d seen your nervous smile as you managed to send him videos of the outfit you chose before you left. He noticed how excited you were before the date, how your eyes sparkled with nervous anticipation. You’d been so worried, so unsure, but he’d reassured you. Told you it would be fine. Told you that Joshua would be lucky to have you.

What you didn’t know was that those words now tasted like ash in his mouth. Because he didn’t want Joshua to have you. He wanted you to stay. With him.

Lando let out a shaky breath. He dragged a hand through his curls, tugging at the roots in frustration. The memory of the night he’d gotten drunk hit him like a punch to the gut. He’d tried to bury it, pretend it didn’t matter, but the truth was, it had been eating him alive.

“I don’t want you to go.” He’d said, the words slurred but raw, his heart on his sleeve for once.

You’d stayed quiet, brushing it aside as drunken nonsense. But it hadn’t been nonsense. It had been the truth, stripped bare and vulnerable in a way he’d never been before. However, he let you believe that, because admitting it outright, while sober, was terrifying.

But it was true. Lando didn’t want you to go. He didn’t want you to meet someone else, fall for someone else, leave him behind. Because the thought of you choosing someone else when he loved you—truly loved you—was unbearable.

His chest ached, the pain sharp and suffocating. It might already be too late. 

Maybe you’d come back tonight, smiling and giddy, and tell him how great Joshua was. How perfect the date had been. The thought made him want to throw something. Instead, he leaned forward, burying his face in his hands, as if he could push the feelings away, but it didn’t work. It never worked.

Because the truth was, he’d been falling for you for months. Years even.

He remembered every laugh, every smile, every quiet moment you shared as kids, as teenagers at school, and now between lessons where the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of you. He remembered the way your nose scrunched up when you were concentrating, the way you teased him when he got flustered, the way you always seemed to bring light into every room you entered.

You were perfect for him. 

But you didn’t know. And maybe you never would.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand, snapping him out of his spiral. His heart leapt, hope surging through him. “Maybe it’s her,” He thought. “Maybe she’s texting to say the date didn’t go well. Maybe—”

He grabbed the phone, the screen lighting up.

It wasn’t you.

The breath he’d been holding escaped in a rush, his shoulders sagging as disappointment washed over him. He tossed the phone back onto the bed, raking a hand through his hair again.

The silence of the room felt suffocating now. He thought about calling Max back, telling him he felt better now and distracting himself with another game, but he knew it wouldn’t help. His mind was a storm, and you were at the center of it.

He lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, his chest heavy with the weight of unspoken words and unfulfilled hopes.

He was losing you. And he had no one to blame but himself.

────୨ৎ────

The door of Joshua’s car clicked shut as he drove away, leaving you standing alone in the dim glow of the streetlights outside your house. You watched his car until it disappeared around the corner, your mind buzzing but your heart strangely still.

He’d been sweet, funny, and attentive, just as Alex had promised. Everything about the date had gone smoothly—on paper, it was perfect. So why did you feel so… hollow?

The thought of stepping into your empty house felt unbearable, the silence inside too heavy for the chaos in your chest. Your feet moved before your mind caught up, leading you down the familiar streets of Monaco. Stumbling a few times, you took your heels off, cursing them under your nose. The brisk night air bit at your skin, but you hardly noticed.

You didn’t know where you were going until you found yourself standing in the small park near the water. A bench beneath an old tree caught your eye—the same bench where one of your first “lessons” with Lando had taken place. You sank down onto it, the memory washing over you with startling clarity.

You could almost hear his voice, teasing and full of life. “See, you can’t just talk about yourself on a date. Ask questions, keep it balanced, like a tennis match.”

You’d laughed so hard that day, mostly at how earnestly he mimed playing tennis in front of you. The image played in your mind now, vivid and bright, and before you could stop yourself, your chest tightened, and tears welled up in your eyes.

Why did thinking about him hurt so much?

Your hands clenched in your lap as the memories kept coming, unstoppable and relentless. The way he smiled when he thought you weren’t looking. The way he spoke to you with that stupid nickname–sweetheart. The way he always had just the right thing to say when you doubted yourself. His endless patience, his unwavering presence.

And his laugh—God, his laugh. The one that echoed in your mind now, making your tears spill over as you realized with horrifying clarity that you’d heard it more times than you could count, but never enough.

You pressed your hand to your chest, as if it could steady the ache inside. How had you been so blind?

All this time, you’d been searching for someone who made you feel seen, heard, and valued. Someone who challenged you but still made you feel safe. Someone who gave a damn about you in ways you hadn’t even noticed until now. It had been right in front of you all along.

Lando. Your Lan.

The tears came harder now, unstoppable and unrelenting, as your mind replayed every moment with him like a cruel, beautiful montage. Every smile, every lingering glance, every sarcastic comment that hid something deeper. He’d been there for you, every step of the way, sacrificing his time and energy to teach you how to love—how to date—without once showing how much it must have hurt him.

You wiped at your eyes, but it was useless. Your heart felt like it was breaking open and healing all at once.

You had to tell him.

The thought hit you like a jolt of electricity. Sitting here, drowning in memories, wasn’t going to change anything. You couldn’t keep pretending, couldn’t keep lying to yourself.

Lando deserved to know the truth. You deserved the truth.

You stood abruptly, the sudden movement making your head spin. Your legs carried you out of the park and back toward the streets, your pace quickening with every step.

What were you going to say? You didn’t know yet. All you knew was that you couldn’t keep this inside any longer.

────୨ৎ────

The night was unnervingly quiet as you stood at Lando’s door, the hum of the distant city muffled by your pounding heartbeat. Your fingers hovered over the wood before you finally knocked, your stomach churning with anxiety.

It took a moment, but when the door opened, Lando stood there, his expression unreadable, his eyes flickering with a hint of surprise and something else—something guarded.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, his voice rough.

“I needed to talk to you.” You replied, your voice trembling despite your best effort to sound confident. You stepped inside, your heels, that you wore on before knocking on his door, clicking softly against the floor as you passed him.

He shut the door behind you, leaning against it, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s late,” He said flatly. “Shouldn’t you be out celebrating with Joshua? What, did the date end early?”

You flinched at his tone, biting back the sharp retort bubbling at the tip of your tongue. “Lando, please—”

“No, go ahead,” He interrupted, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “Tell me everything. All about how perfect he was. I’m dying to hear it.”

Your patience snapped. “Why do you do this?” You demanded, looking him deeply in the eyes.

“Do what?” He shot back, his jaw tightening.

“This!” You exclaimed, throwing your arms in the air. “You get all moody and sarcastic and— ugh, you don’t even listen to me, Lando!”

“Oh, I am listening,” He countered, his voice rising slightly. “You’re the one who barged in here looking all… flustered, expecting me to what? Clap and cheer because your perfect little date didn’t work out the way you wanted?”

“God, you’re impossible!” You said, taking a step closer. “Do you really think I’m here to talk about him? Do you really think I’d come here, in the middle of the night, just to—”

“Well, then why are you here?” He demanded, his voice cutting through the room.

“Because it wasn’t perfect, okay?” You shouted, your voice cracking. “Because it didn’t feel right! Because the entire time, all I could think about was… you.” The hesitation before saying the last word made you want to cry again.

The words hung in the air like a thunderclap, reverberating between you. His sharp expression softened, his mouth parting slightly as he stared at you, completely stunned.”

“What?” Lando whispered, his voice barely audible. He couldn’t believe his own ears. You felt your chest tighten, a mix of anger, heartbreak, and longing overwhelming you. 

“It wasn’t about Joshua—it never was. It was always about you, Lando. Your stupid ass. Your lessons, your dumb pep talks, your stupid jokes, the way you acted so fine with me going out with someone else when you clearly weren’t.” Your words caught in your throat, but you pushed forward, the weight of it all crashing down on you. 

“It’s you, Lando. It’s always been you. Ever since we were little.”

His face softened in an instant, the tension in his jaw melting away, replaced by a vulnerability you rarely saw in him. His eyes, wide and disbelieving, searched yours, as though he was afraid to trust what he was hearing.

“Are you serious?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper, thick with emotion. 

His hands hung at his sides, fists clenching and unclenching, as though he didn’t know what to do with them.

“God, yes,” You blurted out, stepping closer to him. Your heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might burst. “I’m serious, muppet. And I know it’s a mess, and I know I probably ruined everything, but—”

Before you could finish, his hands were on you, his fingers trembling as they cupped your face. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could take another breath, he closed the distance between you and kissed you.

His lips pressed against yours with a fervor that made your knees go weak. It was desperate and raw, filled with all the tension, emotions, and unspoken words that had been simmering between you for weeks. His lips moved against yours with urgency, as though he’d been holding back for far too long, and now that the floodgates were open, there was no stopping it. 

Lando’s thumbs brushed over your cheeks, wiping away tears you hadn’t even realized were falling, and you clung to him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded.

Your hands found their way to his chest, gripping the fabric of his hoodie as if letting go wasn’t an option. You could feel the rapid thud of his heartbeat under your palms, matching the wild rhythm of your own. He tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss, and you melted into him, losing yourself in the moment.

When you finally broke apart, gasping for air, Lando’s forehead rested against yours. His hands still gently cradled your face as though he was afraid you might disappear. Lando’s breath was ragged, his lips red and swollen from the kiss, and his eyes were glassy with unshed tears, looking at you as you were the most precious thing in the world.

“I’m so sorry,” He whispered, his voice cracking. “I should’ve told you. I should’ve said something before... before all of this. But I was terrified—of losing you, and of screwing everything up.”

You shook your head, your hands sliding up to cup his face in return. “No, Lan. I should’ve seen it, I should’ve known.”

His lips quirked into a small, trembling smile, but his eyes stayed locked on yours, a mixture of relief and disbelief shining in them.

“And you didn’t ruin anything, sweetheart,” He murmured, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek. “You never could. You’re— you’re my everything.” He uttered softly.

A tear slipped down your cheek, and he leaned in to kiss it away, his lips lingering on your skin as though trying to memorize the moment.

“Are you really crying?” He teased softly, his voice shaky but warm.

You let out a choked laugh, rolling your eyes even as your cheeks flushed. “No, I’m not. Shut up.”

“Liar,” He murmured, his smile widening as he kissed you again but softer this time. “But you must’ve cried before since your eyes and nose are red.” 

You smacked his chest lightly, heat rising to your cheeks. “Shut up.”

“Hey, it’s cute.” He said with a grin, though his voice was still thick with emotion.

You tried to glare at him, but the look on his face—the mix of relief, affection, and something deeper—made it impossible to stay mad. Instead, you found yourself laughing softly, leaning into him as the tension finally began to disappear.

“You’re such an idiot.”

His lips curled into a small smile. “Takes one to know one.” He teased, his voice soft but warm.

You both stayed there, wrapped up in each other, the weight of weeks of tension and unspoken feelings finally lifting. 

It wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t neat, but it was yours. And in that moment, nothing else mattered. For the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt right.

────୨ৎ────

The soft glow of early morning sunlight poured through the blinds, casting a warm, golden hue across the room. The light touched everything—the sleek lines of Lando’s apartment, the scattered clothes on the floor from last night, and most notably, the two of you tangled in the bed.

You blinked awake, the slow pull of consciousness drawing you from sleep. For a moment, you couldn’t quite remember where you were, but then the warmth next to you, the familiar scent of his cologne, and the steady rhythm of his breath made everything clear.

Lando was lying beside you, his face relaxed in sleep, his curls framing his features in the softest, most endearing way. Sunlight rested over his face, kissing his skin, highlighting the sharpness of his jawline and the curve of his lips. 

It was unreal—this scene, this moment, the peacefulness of it all.

You couldn’t help but smile, your heart swelling in your chest. You were finally here. Finally with him.

You didn’t know how long you lay there, just watching him, savoring the moment, drinking in the fact that you were in this space with him. This was what you’d always wanted. And now that you were here, you didn’t want it to end.

The way his eyelids fluttered as he stirred slowly, bringing him out of his dreams, sent a jolt through your heart. His eyes slowly blinked open, adjusting to the light. His expression softened, and when his gaze met yours, his lips quirked into that familiar, lazy grin.

“Morning, sweetheart.” He muttered, voice rough with sleep. 

You just smiled, leaning in closer, letting the warmth of his body seep into yours. “Hi.” You replied, voice barely a whisper, as if you were afraid speaking too loudly would ruin this moment.

His eyes sparkled with the slightest hint of mischief, and he stretched, rolling his shoulder. “I think I could stay here forever,” He said, his voice a little husky. “But we’re supposed to be at Charles’ in a couple of hours for lunch, remember?”

You frowned, suddenly feeling the pressure of the real world creeping in. “Ugh, yeah. Charles and the whole group. It’s like I can already hear the chatter about how we’ve been hiding this whole thing.”

He smirked, looking at you with a mixture of fondness and amusement. “I don’t mind.” He said casually, rubbing your shoulder. “But we should get up soon, don’t you think?”

But as soon as the words left his lips, something inside you shifted. You weren’t ready to leave this bed, not yet. Not when everything between you felt so new, so fragile, like a dream that could slip away any moment. Without thinking, you moved swiftly, swinging a leg over him, straddling his waist, your hands coming to rest on his bare chest as you looked down at him, a teasing smile playing at the corners of your mouth.

His eyes widened in surprise, a breathless laugh escaping his lips. “What are you—?”

“Hi.” You whispered softly, the power of your position making his pulse race.

“Hi.” He whispered back, biting his lower lip.

His eyes scanned your face, the mix of confusion and amusement in his gaze quickly shifting to something more heated. “You’ve lost it, haven’t you?” He murmured, still a bit flustered from the sudden shift. 

His hands instinctively went to your bare hips, but he didn’t push you off. Instead, he looked up at you with a raised eyebrow, clearly caught off guard but not entirely unhappy about it.

Before he could say anything else, you leaned in, closing the space between you, and kissed him. It wasn’t slow or gentle—it was a kiss full of heat and desire, reminding you about your last night. The distant memory of your soft gasps, shared moans and hot kisses flooded your both heads.

The world seemed to fall away as you lost yourselves in the kiss. His hands roamed to your bare back, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss until you were a breathless mess, your heart pounding in your chest.

When you finally pulled away, the quiet of the room seemed almost too loud. You stayed close, your forehead resting against his, both of you catching your breath.

“Did you even realize how fucking good you look right now?” You muttered, voice husky with the remnants of sleep.

Your gaze roamed over him—the way his curls caught the golden morning light, the relaxed curve of his lips still faintly swollen from your earlier kisses, and the lazy glint in his half-lidded eyes.

Lando blinked at you, his expression unreadable for a moment before he broke into a quiet laugh, low and rough. “You’ve got a way with words, don’t you, sweetheart?” He teased, his voice thick with sleep. “Or are you just trying to kill me first thing in the morning?”

You shook your head, smiling as you trailed your fingers gently along the line of his jaw, tracing every perfect imperfection of his face. “No games,” You whispered, pressing your palm flat against his chest where his heart beat steadily. “You just look… unreal.”

The weight of your words seemed to catch him off guard. His hands found your bare waist under the tangled sheets, thumbs brushing gently along your sides as his gaze locked onto yours.

“Coming from you? That’s rich,” He said, his voice dipping low. “You’re literally glowing right now, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to hide the flush rising in your cheeks. “Nice try, Norris. But flattery isn’t going to distract me.”

“Oh?” He murmured, the corners of his lips tugging upward in a smirk. “So what’s your plan? Keep staring at me until I melt?”

You grinned, leaning down until your lips were an inch away from his. “Maybe.”

Before he could respond, you kissed him—slow and unhurried, savoring the moment. His hands slid up your back, pulling you closer until your bare skin was flushed against his, the sheets pooling around your bodies.

When you pulled back, his eyes were darker, his breathing heavier. “Now who’s playing games?” He muttered, a trace of amusement in his tone.

You laughed softly, pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth. “I’m not. I just—” You hesitated, brushing his curls back from his forehead. “I can’t believe this is real. That I’m finally yours, and you’re mine.”

Lando’s expression softened, the teasing edge replaced by something infinitely more tender. “I’ve always been yours, sweetheart,” He said, his voice barely above a whisper. His fingers trailed up your spine, sending shivers through you. “You just took your sweet time realizing it.”

You laughed, burying your face in the crook of his neck to hide the warmth flooding your cheeks. He smelled like sleep and sunshine mixed with a faint scent of his perfume. You couldn’t resist pressing a kiss to the soft spot beneath his jaw.

“I’m never getting out of this bed, am I?” Lando murmured, his voice teasing but laced with an unmistakable truth.

You smiled against his skin, your hands sliding over his shoulders to rest on his chest. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

His laugh rumbled against your lips, but when you shifted your hips slightly downwards, his breath hitched. “Careful.” He warned, his voice a mix of amusement and something darker.

You tilted your head, feigning innocence as your lips brushed against his ear. “What? Just getting comfortable.”

“Right,” He murmured, his hands gripping your waist more firmly. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

You kissed him again, this time deeper, slower, letting the quiet morning dissolve into something entirely different. By the time you finally pulled back, breathless and flushed, his eyes were locked onto yours with a heat that sent a shiver down your spine.

“We’re never going to make it to breakfast at this rate.” He chuckled, though there was no trace of complaint in his voice.

You grinned, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. “Who said I’m hungry for food?”

His groan was soft as you slid down his body, his hands tightening their hold on you as the sunlight continued to bathe the room, turning the morning into a memory you’d never forget.

────୨ৎ────

The morning had been perfect—the lingering warmth of your shared kiss, the quiet laughter over breakfast—but now, reality was tugging at you both. 

After the breakfast, Lando quickly freshened up and you both drove to your place as you also needed to get ready. You stood in front of the mirror, applying a final swipe of lipstick, your reflection staring back at you as if in disbelief. How had you gone from nervousness to this moment? How had you gotten here, with Lando, after everything? Lando, on the other hand, had been unusually quiet, his gaze lingering on you as you finished getting ready. When you finally stepped out of the bathroom in the dress you had chosen, the one you knew would turn heads, you saw the way his breath caught in his chest.

“Wow, sweetheart…” He breathed, looking you up and down, his eyes lingering on every part of your body. His expression was a mixture of admiration and something more—something that made your heart beat faster. “You look… absolutely gorgeous.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your lips at his reaction. It was hard to tell if you were more proud of how stunning you looked or how much he was checking you out.

“Glad you think so.” You replied, your voice teasing as you turned slightly, letting the fabric of the dress swirl around your legs. It wasn’t just any dress. It hugged you in all the right places, the sweetheart neckline drawing attention to your collarbones and the flowy skirt adding an effortless elegance. You knew it would drive him crazy.

Lando stepped forward, walking up behind you and gently brushing your hair away from your neck. He leaned in close, placing a soft kiss just below your ear. The warmth of his lips sent a shiver down your spine.

“You sure we have to go?” He murmured, his voice low and teasing. “I’d rather just stay home and do… other things. With you.”

You chuckled, not able to keep the smile from your lips as you glanced at him in the mirror. “This morning, you were the first one to get ready for that lunch,” You teased, turning to face him. “Don’t tell me you’re backing out now.”

He looked at you with a soft, almost desperate expression. “I’m not backing out. But I’d much rather stay here… with you. Alone.”

You raised an eyebrow playfully. “Well, if you don’t want to go, I can always text Joshua. I still haven’t messaged him since yesterday.”

The mention of Joshua’s name was enough to make his jaw tighten. “You’re really going to do that?” He asked, his tone suddenly darker, but there was something undeniably possessive in it.

You couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at your lips as you pulled out your phone. “Well, you know, I never replied—”

Before you could even unlock your phone, Lando was kissing you, hard and fast, pulling you into him with a hunger that left you breathless. His hands moved to your waist, lifting you slightly off the ground as he deepened the kiss.

When you pulled away, both of you breathless, you looked at him with a glint of amusement. “Fine,” You muttered, “I guess we’re not texting him.”

Lando gave you a satisfied smile. “That’s what I thought, sweetheart.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you grabbed your bag. “Let’s get going then, before you change your mind again.”

The drive to Charles’ place was quiet, the tension between you thick with unspoken feelings. As you sat in the passenger seat, you typed out a quick message to Joshua, your fingers moving with a purpose.

You:

Hey Joshua, I just wanted to thank you for yesterday. I really appreciated it, but I don’t think we’ll be able to meet in the future. I wish you the best of luck, and it was very nice to meet you.

You hit send and immediately felt a weight lift off your chest. It was over, and it was a decision you were glad to have made. 

When you two arrived, Lando opened the car door for you, offering you his hand. Before you had time to dwell on the message you sent, you felt his hand gently squeezing yours. You looked over at him, seeing a small, satisfied grin on his face. Lando didn’t say anything, but you could feel his approval.

When you arrived at Charles’ place, the moment the door opened and Rebecca, who was already there, saw you both, her eyes widened. Then, without warning, she screamed, “Oh my God! Finally!”

You and Lando couldn’t help but laugh, sharing a knowing look as you entered the house together, hands still intertwined. As you walked into the living room, everyone was already smiling, congratulating you both with big, happy grins.

Lando leaned in close to your ear as Carlos and Rebecca were busy showering you with congratulations. “I guess this is the part where we’re supposed to pretend we’re not completely obsessed with each other, huh?” He whispered with a teasing grin.

You grinned, squeezing his hand. “If that’s what you think, you’re wrong.”

At some point during the evening, Alex pulled you aside, a sheepish look on her face. Her usual confident energy was replaced with something softer, more apologetic.

“Hey,” She started, shifting awkwardly. “I just wanted to say… I feel kind of bad about the whole Joshua thing. I mean, I was pushing you into that, and now you and Lando—” She gestured vaguely, her cheeks flushing slightly. “I didn’t mean to make things more complicated for you.”

You smiled warmly, shaking your head. “Alex, it’s fine. Really. If anything, it was kind of a wake-up call for me and Lando. We were both so stubborn about admitting how we felt. So, honestly, thank you for that little push. Even if it was unintentional.”

Alex let out a laugh, her shoulders relaxing. “Okay, good, because for a second there, I thought I’d ruined everything.”

“Oh— no, you definitely didn’t,” You reassured her, your smile widening. “If anything, you might’ve saved us from circling each other for another six months.”

She laughed again, louder this time, the tension between you dissolving into lightheartedness. “Well, I’ll take credit for that, then. You two are disgustingly cute, by the way. It’s almost unbearable.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” You quipped, giving her a playful nudge before heading back toward Lando.

As you approached, he looked up from his conversation with Carlos, his eyes immediately locking onto yours, shining at your sight.

“What were you two talking about?” He asked, his curiosity evident.

“Girl talk,” You said with a smirk, waving off his question. “It’s a secret.”

“A secret, huh?” He raised an eyebrow, but the smile on his face showed he wasn’t really bothered.

“Yep.” You chuckled, leaning in closer and placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. “And you’re not getting a word out of me.”

Later in the evening, after the buzz of congratulations and teasing from your friends had started to die down, you found yourself standing out on Charles’ balcony. The stars above were faint against the warm glow of Monaco’s city lights, and the air was cool, carrying the faint sounds of laughter and clinking glasses from inside.

Lando joined you quietly, slipping his arms around your waist from behind. You leaned into him instinctively, your hands resting on his. The weight of his touch felt grounding, comforting.

“You alright, sweetheart?” He asked softly, his voice low in your ear.

“Yeah,” You uttered, tilting your head back to look up at him. “Just needed a minute to catch my breath. It’s been a lot tonight.”

He chuckled, his chin resting against your shoulder, hands warm against your waist. “They’re relentless, aren’t they? I don’t think Carlos and Charles will let this go for months. They’ll always try to tease me about it.”

“Same with Rebecca,” You added with a laugh. “She screamed so loudly, I think half the neighborhood heard it.”

He smiled at that, but his expression softened as his gaze lingered on you. “They’re just happy for us,” He said. “I mean— I get it. I’m happy too.”

Something about the way he said it made your heart swell. You turned in his arms to face him, your arms resting lightly against his shoulders.

“Me too,” You murmured, your eyes searching his. The words were right there on the tip of your tongue, and for the first time, you didn’t feel scared to say them. “I love you, Lan.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then, a slow, breathtaking smile spread across his face. His hands came up to cup your cheeks, his touch impossibly gentle.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” He said, his voice thick with emotion. “God, I’ve been wanting to tell you that for so long.” He hid his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent that felt like home for him. 

You let out a shaky laugh, “Why didn’t you?”

“Why didn’t you?” He countered, grinning against your skin.

“Touché.” You admitted, burying your hand in his soft curls as both of you laughed softly. The sound was light, effortless, and full of relief.

Then, Lando pulled back to look at you again. After giving you a soft smile, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that felt like a promise. 

It wasn’t rushed or heated—it was warm and tender, the kind of kiss that made you feel like you’d finally found home.

When you pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he whispered, “You’re my everything, you know that?”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you didn’t let them fall. “You’re mine too.” You whispered back.

The rest of the night passed in a happy blur. Your friends teased you endlessly, but their smiles were genuine, their excitement contagious. And when it was time to go, Lando’s hand found yours without hesitation, holding it tightly as you said your goodbyes.

As the two of you drove back through the quiet streets of Monaco, a comfortable silence settled between you. Lando reached over, lacing his fingers with yours as his thumb brushed over your knuckles.

The day had been perfect, and as you rested your head against his chest when you finally laid in your bed, you couldn’t hold a smile anymore. 

Looking back, it had been a whirlwind—a rollercoaster of emotions, misunderstandings, laughter, and moments so charged you could hardly breathe. 

What started as a series of lessons had turned into something far greater than either of you could have anticipated. It wasn’t perfect, not always smooth, but it was real. Every stolen glance, every near-miss, every argument and heartfelt confession had led you here, to this life you were building together.

And as Lando’s hand rested comfortably over your waist, his warm smile mirroring your own, one thought stood out above the rest.

Lando was right from the beginning—practice makes perfect.

© haniette | 2025, all rights reserved.

reuploads and likes are highly appreciated ♡

[miaoua3]

Ghost of Your Dreams

Pairing: bf!scoups x f!reader

Genre: smut (MDNI), size kink, no protection (don’t be silly wrap the willy), dom!scoups, spanking, choking, spitting, degradation(slight), praise, cosplay! ghost

Description: all it took was one comment of your and here he was, embarrassed and shy but ready to commit to the fullest in order for him to fulfil your fantasy

Note: everyone went berserk last year when i posted on my tiktok as what characters id like to see svt as for halloween and put coups as ghost from cod so naturally i had to bring even more chaos and write a whole fanfic about it…enjoy hehe (post writing edit of the notes: i passionately hate this my bad guys i suck so bad. and again, not proof read so…yeah lmao)

you knew what you were getting into the very minute you first stepped a foot into your boyfriend’s s home and saw a whole professional pc set-up, with headphones and the kind of keyboard that lights up in rainbow light every time you press any key on it. you knew what to expect from him-late night gaming sessions between him and his friends, him yelling whenever he got annoyed, and a whole lot of cursing.

these are just some of the things you knew to expect.

cheol, on the other hand, never even thought what kind of an effect his hobby could have on you. he knew you would be supportive, and that you would probably use his gaming time to do and practice your own hobbies.

but now, several years into the relationship, he never even expected for you to take any special interest in his hobby, never mind for you to make such an…out-of-character comment like you did two weeks ago.

he was just starting a new game, concentrating on the plot and character dialogue so he knew what to do, when he felt you approach him from behind, carefully watching the screen right beside him.

after a few seconds, cheol sees your pretty pointer finger point at one of the characters from the screen and hears your sweet voice ask “who is that?”

cheol looks up at you with his pretty and big boba eyes, a bit of confusion visible in the way his eyebrows furrow.

“his name is simon riley, but they call him ‘ghost’.”

you only hum in response, tilting your head to the side as you carefully watch the character move around the screen. after a few seconds, you deliver a comment that will forever change seungcheol and who he is as a person.

“he’s hot.”

cheol looks at you, both in confusion and in offence, totally blindsided by the two words that have just left your mouth.

“what- why? how? you can’t even see his face because of the mask. plus, you have a boyfriend, miss. how dare you find another man other than me attractive?”

you finally look at the boyfriend in question, only to see his big cherry lips set in pout, making you smile in amusement. you bend down to hug him around his neck, softly kissing his cheek to comfort him. after you see the corner of his mouth twitch in weakness, you answer his questions.

“i don’t know, something about him is attractive, maybe the way he carries himself and the mysteriousness because of the whole mask thing.”, you muse as you go back to watching ghost on the screen.

cheol does the same, the pout still present as he looks at his favourite character, now with a bit of disdain due to your newfound attraction to him.

after a few seconds of silence, you chuckle before you add another comment that will play a big part in both your futures.

“plus, he kind of reminds me of you, baby. with all the dominance, confidence and that deep voice.”, letting another chuckle, you look him directly in the eyes, you faces only inches apart so he can see your eyes clearly as you add “who knows, maybe you should cosplay him sometime. i know i would love to see that.”

you smile at him before you let a brief kiss land on his lips before you part your body away from his and go back to laying on the bed.

you may have said it in the joking manner, but cheol knew. he saw that look in your eyes, the way your pupils were dilated, the way your smile hid something a bit darker, a bit more sinister in the corners of your lips.

he knew that you weren’t joking.

so here he is, two weeks later, on a saturday night, in the full cosplay, waiting for you to get back from work, his blushing and red face hidden behind the balaclava and mask.

he fondles with all the little belts around his body, namely his waist, chest and thighs. a bit uncomfortable, but nothing cheol couldn’t handle.

hey, anything for love, right?

cheol looks around the apartment as if it will give him an answer as to what he should do, what the plan to surprising you is, but to no avail. the nervousness and sort of excitement is getting more and more unbearable the closer your arrival is getting.

finally, he settles on hiding in the bathroom, knowing that your first move will be to check your shared bedroom to see if he’s there, making the bathroom the perfect place to hide, as it is directly across the bedroom and he can then quietly sneak up behind you.

just like he planned, cheol skilfully hides behind the bathroom door, leaving the light off and the door slightly open as to make you think he isn’t inside. he stills his movements the moment he hears the keys jingling behind the entrance door before the door click open.

you drop your keys into the little dish beside the door before hanging your bag and coat on the hanger right beside it. he hears you sigh deeply, probably meaning that you have had a long day and that you need some relaxation.

perfect.

after you take your shoes off, he hears you still for a moment, carefully listening to the sounds in your own home. after a second, he hears you call out “cheol? are you there? i’m home!”

but to no avail. because he doesn’t answer.

right in that moment, cheol's belief that he knows you better than anyone else was solidified.

because just like he predicted, he hears you take a few steps before you lightly open the door of your bedroom, peaking inside to see if your boyfriend is inside.

showtime.

ever so quietly, cheol moves until he’s standing right behind you, his eyes looking at the top of your head. he just had to smirk at your cluelessness, how you are so cutely looking for him while he’s standing directly behind you.

not being able to resist the temptation, cheol leans in until his covered lips are right by your ear before he utters in his deepest voice possible.

“looking for something, m’love?”

you gasp in shock, eyes wide as you quickly turn towards him, stumbling back so much that if it weren’t for his hand catching your arm, you would’ve fallen right onto your ass.

you gape at his tall and darkly clothed silhouette, being somewhere between shocked and in awe of your beautiful muscle-y boyfriend standing in front of you in a costume you never could’ve imagined seeing him in.

the shock lasts all but 5 seconds before the widest smile he has ever seen on you takes over your features, your pupils blown out, so much so that they appear almost completely black.

with excitement you start word-vomiting “oh my god, i can’t believe you really did this. i think this is the best day of my life. oh my god, are you gonna spank me and say that i’ve been a bad girl? or maybe-“

something about the way you look little too excited, like a kid on a christmas morning that can’t wait to open their presents, the way you smiled so wide, maybe even too widely. like cheol just walked right into your trap.

it rubbed him the wrong way, blood boiling slightly.

although that just might be the multiple layers of clothes that he’s wearing.

oh well.

wasting no time, seungcheol suddenly grabs you by your neck and pulls you towards him, making whatever words you wanted to say die on your tongue and a gasp slip out instead.

the moment your body collides with his, he uses his big and broad body to push you against the wall by your bedroom door, harshly.

your body slams against the cold white wall, and cheol has the oh shit- thought for all of half second that he might’ve pushed you too hard and that he might’ve hurt you.

that is before he hears you moan loudly at the action, throwing your head back.

little masochist.

cheol then immediately comes closer to you, crowding your space so much, until the only thing left to focus on is the mask that covers his face. his chest pushes into yours, making it that harder to breathe, and his knee finds its home right between your legs, pushing upwards until he can feel the warmth between your legs on his thigh.

your beautiful and cute eyes are already teary as you look upwards at him, desperation forming on your waterline in the form of tears.

you don’t have to see it to know that cheol is smirking at the effect he has on you, smugness dripping in his voice as he says.

“what do we have here, hm? your pussy already desperate for me, baby? but we haven’t even started.” he pauses for a second to press his covered forehead against yours before he continues “is this all it took to reduce you to what you really are? a desperate, cock-hungry little bitch? so hungry for my cock hm? can’t even wait for it to enter that little pussy of yours, already rubbing yourself on me.”

it is only when his glove-clothed hand suddenly runs over your front, right where your pussy is desperately rubbing on his thigh, that you even notice what you’ve unconsciously started doing, his fingertips digging until he finds the slit of your pussy lips, pressing hard until he reaches your clit, despite two layers of clothes being in his way.

you moan at the contact, hands grabbing at his wrist, somewhere between pushing his hand away and closer to where you need him the most.

seungcheol won’t let you have any control tonight, he wants you to completely surrender to him, to let him use you and move you however he wants, to just accept whatever he gives you with a fucked out smile on your face.

hence why he grabs both your hands into his before slamming them onto the wall above your head, quickly switching his hold onto your wrists.

with a purposefully made angry face, he looks into your teary eyes. something dark and far more sinister than he thought he could ever feel awakens inside of him, the feeling of giddiness overcoming him as he watches your eyelashes get wet by the tears gathering in your eyes, neediness and desperation swimming in them.

with a deep voice overflowing with warning, he says “no touching tonight, are we clear pretty girl? you are at my mercy tonight. everything i want to give you…”, he pause for a few seconds so he can remove the skull mask from his face and reveal the identical balaclava beneath it, before he pushes his face closer until his cloth-covered nose meets your own and continues “…you will take like a good girl i know you are. understood?”

you watch his dark eyes, purposefully covered in black paint, as you process his words. your mouth are agape, shaky breaths leaving the opening until the sound hits cheol’s ears. his free hand that isn’t holding your wrists comes to hold your cheek gently, a touch of love to show you that this isn’t real, that this is just a bit of a fun game to both of you, that he still loves you despite his harsh words.

with wide eyes, you slowly nod your head to his demand, showing him that you understand.

contrary to his tone just a few seconds ago, cheol gently whispers in the little space between you two “use your words baby, i need to hear you say ‘yes’ before we continue.”

you heart squeezes in love that you have for this man. the fact that he basically interrupted his own fantasy in the name of having you consent to him with your own words makes you love him that much more. sure, it may be the bare minimum to the rest of the world, but to you, who never experienced such gentle love by the previous partners? it means the whole world.

with hoarse voice, you whisper “yes. i understand.”

cheol looks at your eyes for a second, looking for doubt and fear, only to find excitement and trust instead. nodding his head, he pushes his balaclava until his lips are freed, and using the newfound freedom to lay a gentle and light kiss to your mouth, letting them linger just for a second before he pushes the balaclava back in place, now fully ready to push you to the point of tears of pleasure.

within a second, that old flame of desire returns to his eyes. for a second you could’ve sworn that his eyes had a tinge of redness in them, almost like they were literally set on fire.

his hand slowly but firmly wraps around your neck, the leather material making the squeaky sound as he repositions his hand so his fingers are only squeezing the sides of your slender neck. the last bit of air leaves your lungs as cheol squeezes your neck, making you feel lightheaded within seconds.

your boyfriend uses your distraction and hazy mind to just observe you-the way your eyes flutter shut and how tears gather at your water line, how your hands try to grasp onto something to no avail because he’s holding the hostage above your head, how your mouth can’t decide if you want to bite your lip and keep the gasps and moans from escaping or opening them as wide as possible and letting all those pretty sounds flow like a river straight out.

he watches how your hair is already messy, a complete opposite to how you usually style it for work. then to how your pretty neck bobs in an effort to take in more air. the way his black leather glove wraps prettily around it.

his eyes fall onto your chest, and the way your button up shirt gives him a peak of your cleavage, as well as the necklace with his initials engraved on the back of the pendant hanging from the chain. the way your chest raise and fall at rapid speed, the way your tits move with every exhale.

his pupils follow the curvature of your waist, and the way your pants hug your hips-the hips he loves to hold, grab, squeeze and use as his anchor while he’s fucking you from behind.

lastly, cheol observes the movement of your hips, how you slowly roll your hips in slow and small circles on his leg that is pushed between your legs in an effort to relieve the uncomfortable tingle on your clit, the warmth from between your legs making his mouth water in need to taste you, in need to have your tight pussy wrap around his cock.

fuck, he needs to fuck you. right now.

his head drops beside yours, a groan hitting the shell of your ear before he demands “take your pants off, need to have that needy pussy around my cock right now.”

no sooner than when his hand lets go of your hands that were hanging above your head that you immediately got to work, unzipping your pants and missing the zipper a few times. the minute it was unzipped enough, you pulled your pants down, along with your panties, before you kicked them to the side.

while you were preoccupied by taking your pants off, cheol did the same to his. well, he couldn’t really take them off due to insane amount of tiny belts hugging his big thighs. instead, he just unzipped them and pulled them down just enough to free his aching cock from his boxers, precum leaking from the tip the moment it bounces upon being taken out.

your eyes immediately get drawn to the sight, how big he looks, the tip the slight pinkish colour due to lack of stimulation.

but it’s not just his dick-cheol as a whole, right at this moment, looks like something straight out of your wet dreams, like a desire or a kink you can’t talk about, keeping it locked inside a box instead, hidden deeply inside your closet.

the black balaclava with the skull printed on it hugging his head and currently hiding his beautiful face, the black turtleneck that is covered with the fake black military vest, with tons of tiny pockets. the way his big biceps bulge out, protruding even with the longs sleeves trying to keep them hidden.

the black leather gloves that are trying to keep his pants below his cock, kind of frustratedly fumbling with the material because it’s not obeying to his orders. the black pants that hug his legs, the black boots-simply everything.

it makes your whole body feel hot, so hot like somebody poured hot lava all over it.

fuck, i need to suck him off dry right. now.

just as cheol was about to grab you, you let your knees drop, kind of painfully hitting the floor, and as gently as possible due to the hunger grabbing his dick.

cheol confusedly looks down at you, mouth open to say “wha-“ but gets cut off with a moan the moment your warm mouth wraps around his cock.

normally, you would go slow, paying attention to his tip for a minute or so before trying to swallow his whole length.

normally. but not now.

the moment you open your mouth and lean in towards his dick, you start bobbing your head up and down his cock, you hand working on the base that you can’t reach with your mouth just yet. you other hand pulls on his pants, trying to keep them in place while you suck his length.

feeling overwhelmed by your sudden actions, cheol gasps a moan and slams a hand onto the wall to keep him balanced, knees buckling due to the sheer force of your movements.

your mouth haven’t even been around his dick for a minute and he can already feel his balls ready to burst, breathing deep and looking towards to the ceiling (or the heavens, whichever way you want to interpret it), praying that he doesn’t cum so quickly.

you continue with your movements, tongue wrapping around and licking his cock as you drag your mouth back before you suck his length back in, his tip hitting the back of your throat.

cheol watches you in awe and fascination, the way your eyebrows furrow not in concentration, but due to the neediness to have yourself choking on his big cock, moaning every few seconds in pure enjoyment.

never thought sucking a dick could be so good and so…sexually full filling.

you look up through your eyelashes at your boyfriend. even with the balaclava you can tell that his mouth is opened, letting those beautiful and loud moans flow freely out of them, that his eyebrows are furrowed because he’s trying to contain himself and not fuck your face.

which is exactly what you want.

you pull away, both to let yourself and himself breathe, though you keep the eye contact going.

and cheol sees it. that look in your eyes that is begging him to fuck your mouth.

how could he ever deny his baby anything?

just as you were about to go back to sucking his dick, cheol grabs your hair and pulls you away, and keeps pulling on it, making you move your body with it. he only stops once your whole body is back to leaning against the wall, legs kind of awkwardly bent before you readjust them.

your glossy eyes look up at him, needy and demanding for him to fuck your mouth, now.

tapping your cheek with two fingers, he's only able to rasp out "open your mouth."

your lips fall open without a second thought, poking your tongue out as you wait for him to give it to you hard and fast, just like how you like it.

cheol wishes that he could take a mental picture of you like this-eyes glossy, face littered with sweat and mouth calling his name. this right here, how you like right now.

this is everything cheol has ever dreamt about.

ever so slowly, cheol pushes his pelvis foward, his cock held tightly in his hand as he guides it straight to your mouth. he smears the head a bit on your tongue, letting you taste him yet again, but immediately pulling away once you try closing your mouth around it, a sound of disapprovement escaping his lips. once you look at him confusedly, eyebrows furrowed, he's adds "don't move. let me fuck that pretty mouth of yours like i know you want me to, like a good slut i know you are. just relax and enjoy, hm?"

you nod your head quickly before opening your mouth again, an amused chuckle echoing in cheol’s mouth.

very carefully, cheol pushes his cock back into your mouth. his eyes are fully trained to follow your every move, eyes cloudy with desire as he watches you close your mouth around his girth, pretty eyes looking right back into his. he continues pushing his pelvis until he feels the back of your throat close against the head, pearly precum falling down your throat, before he pulls back.

he continues repeatedly doing this a few times, getting you used to the motion and pace, before he speeds up slightly.

your fists are clenched against your thighs, desperate to touch him but resisting the urge to touch him, to pull him closer until you feel yourself choking on his thick cock. instead, you focus that energy to let all the little sounds that you know cheol definitely loves, your humming and moaning creating vibrations on his length.

cheol moans right back, throwing his head back every so often because it just feels so good. the warmth of your mouth as he rocks his hips, the way you try swirling your tongue around the head, the way you’re looking at him, like he’s the only man ever for you.

it all messes with his head.

naturally, he loses himself in the pleasure, unconsciously speeding up his movement until his cock is repeatedly hitting the back of your throat, choking sounds hitting the shell of his ear every time he pushes his cock back in.

after another few minutes of him fucking your pretty mouth, of him letting little comments like “fuck, just like that pretty girl” and “yeah chock on my cock, just like that”, cheol feels himself being so so close, almost a second away from cumming. and although he would like nothing more to paint your pretty face with his cum, to smear it around, almost like he’s marking his territory, to see tears spill from your eyes and mix with his fluids, he would much rather cum inside of you. now.

harshly, he pulls all the way out, hissing once the cold air meets his wet length, before grabbing your jaw harshly with one hand. using that hold, he quickly picks you up, dragging you up to meet him.

you gasp at the action and the way it cuts your airway off, hands quickly grabbing his forearm as he drags you to your feet.

the moment you are close enough, he pulls his balaclava all the way off and clashes your mouths together, tongue swirling around your own, stealing yet another breath away from you.

just as quickly as he kissed you, he pulls away, lips swollen from both the kiss and biting on his lips while fucking your mouth, eyes dark and cloudy like a stormy night.

you’re still gasping because he still has a hold on your cheeks with one hand, nails digging into your skin in a painful yet delicious way, your own hand squeezing his wrist in indecisiveness, unsure if you want him to squeeze it even more or to let you breathe.

pushing his forehead against your own, you can clearly see him struggling to control himself by the way he’s harshly breathing. in a dangerously low and warning tone, he just says “i’m gonna fuck you so hard, just like you want me to. gonna fuck you like a slut i know you are. gonna make you beg me to let you cum. now jump.” before he bends down and grabs you by your legs, picking you up like you weigh nothing and wrapping your legs around his waist.

your heart jumps to your throat in excitement, everything about this so new and so unfamiliar-the face fucking, the cosplay, the degradation. you previously told him it was something you’d like to try, just to see if you would like it more than when he praises you and worships you, and although you like how every time he called you ‘slut’ a shiver went down your back, his praise and calling you his love and baby while he’s fucking you will always be number one place.

cheol quickly grabs his dick and slaps it a few times against your clit before he pushes it inside of you, gliding much easier due to your arousal. you both moan loudly at the contact, cheols eyebrows furrowing almost like he’s in pain. his eyes focused entirely on how your pussy is swallowing his big cock.

you feel heat on your cheeks at the sound your cunt makes every time cheol pushes back inside you and pulls back, it’s all wet and loud, and it makes you want to hide your face in embarrassment. you can’t remember the last you were this aroused, so much so that the slick was staining cheol’s pants that were still just pushed right under his dick.

in the matter of seconds, cheol starts fucking you hard and fast, your loud moans echoing in the hallway, probably making it a show for the neighbours to hear. head thrown back against the wall, you focus on gripping cheol’s shoulders like your life depends on it.

his hands are harshly gripping your thighs, both to hold you up and keep you in place so you don’t slip due to sheer force of his movements, but also because he adores your thighs-if it were up to him, his face would be permanently squished between them while eating you out, all day, every day.

you can quickly tell that neither of you will last much longer, the long foreplay already getting you close to the finish line. for yourself you can tell by that funny feeling in your tummy and in the quiver of your legs that are wrapped around cheol’s hips. for cheol, you can tell by how his movements have lost the rhythm, only focusing on fucking you as fast as possible, desperate to cum inside of you and make you cum on his dick.

cheol presses his sweaty forehead against your own, his glassy eyes looking directly into your own. despite how dirty this all feels, you can still feel love pouring from his eyes into your own. you feel his adoration for you, you feel that his heart is beating for you and for you only. al of that is enough to make the knot inside of your tummy slowly start to unravel, your pussy squeezing around cheol’s dick stronger than ever before.

at the feeling of you milking him dry, he moans loudly, his movements sloppier than ever, holding out his orgasm and stopping himself from cumming just so you can cum together with him.

“that’s it, baby, cum around me. take it, take what’s yours. lemme feel that pussy-“

the rest of his words don’t register in your brain because cheol lets go one of your thighs so he can rub your clit, thumb pressing harshly into it as he moves it side to side in quick movements, and in a few seconds you are cumming.

cheol moans as he feels you cumming around him, his own finish following your own immediately. he tries to ride your orgasms as long as possible, but then he feels liquid drench his pants, only to see you squirting on him, his brain short-circuiting at the sensation.

he successful holds you up through your orgasms despite his legs shaking like crazy from how hard he has come. using the fact that you are leaning on the wall, cheol pushes you further into it in the name of getting closer to you, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder as he feels the last of your orgasm drenching him, his own dick pulsating almost painfully inside of you.

for a minute or so, you two just stand there, hugging each other as you breathe heavily, trying desperately to regain your vision. you pat his hair slowly, just like how he likes it. cheol, in return, hugs you impossibly close to himself, whispering beautiful nothings into your ear like “good girl” and “i love you so much baby”, just how you like it.

after another moment or so, he finally pulls back, his big brown eyes looking you over to see if everything is good, only to be met with your spent but satisfied expression, eyes unfocused as you try to look back into him.

he uses one hand to slowly move your hair away from your face, grimacing a little at the feeling of sweat that sticks to his hand as he wipes your forehead.

he watches you for a few seconds, eyes so gentle and full of love, he can’t resist kissing you slowly, his lips a bit chapped from continuously biting it, but still somehow so soft.

you close your eyes and just enjoy the feeling of his love, arms lazily wrapped around his shoulders, fingers twirling his hair at the back of his head.

he slowly pulls away, eyes searching your own. once he sees you finally being able to focus on him, the first thing he says to you is

“i love you so much baby.”

and for some reason, probably due to all the adrenaline and because of how gentle he is being, you feel your eyes prickling with tears, quickly hiding your face in his shoulder and hugging him closer than ever, seeking out his comfort.

cheol tries prying a bit worriedly, gently asking things like ‘what’s wrong baby? hm? tell me so i can make it better’ but all you have strength for is to whisper quietly to him “i love you too. so much…bedroom, please.”

cheol gets the hint, quickly pulling out of you so he can carry you to your bedroom so he can cuddle you and take care of you, lips kissing your temple as he kicks the door open and walks to your bed.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

you stir awake, eyes blurry as you try to find your boyfriend.

only to see his side of the bed empty.

you quickly get up in panic, still a bit needy and in need of his touch, looking around with furrowed eyebrows.

only to see the bathroom door open, cheol standing in front of the mirror as he’s trying to take off the black paint from his eye area, softly and quietly cursing at how stubborn the paint is, only smudging around instead of getting off his face.

you immediately stop panicking, observing his half naked form, his soft muscles and little tummy getting all of your attention.

he’s so effortlessly beautiful, it makes you wonder how he is even yours. he’s just standing there, only in his black towel, yet he looks like a god, wet hair falling into his eyes as he’s still trying to take the makeup off, pouting at how unsuccessful he is at getting it off.

slowly, you get out of the bed and walk towards him, arms immediately wrapping around his waist from behind the moment you are close enough to him, nuzzling your face into the soft skin of his back.

he smells fresh, like his body gel. luckily your boyfriend isn’t one of those people who uses 36 in 1 shower gels, instead of opting for the regular one, this time having grabbed the one that smells like…cucumbers maybe? nevertheless, he’s clean and smells great, and you enjoy every second of it.

cheol drops one hand across your own that are rubbing his tummy, still trying to take the paint off.

you watch him across his shoulder, smiling in amusement for a few second before you use your hands to slowly turn him around so he’s facing you.

he immediately starts pouting at you, hands quickly finding your waist under his shirt that is hanging from your frame.

in whiny voice, he starts complaining “it won’t come off baby. what am i supposed to do? i have an important meeting tomorrow morning.”

you smile as you take the cotton pad from his hand and take your own micellar water, dabbing the pad a bit with it before you gently start rubbing his eyes.

you feel his thumbs rubbing slow circles on your hip bones in comfort, enjoying the sensation and his touch to the fullest.

“you need to use a micellar water that has some oil in it as well, so the oil can break off the paint particles. your micellar water isn’t strong enough for it apparently.”

cheol just hums in response, fully taking advantage of you taking care of him, eyes closed in enjoyment.

after a minute or so, you pull your hands away to see if everything has come off successfully, nodding your head as you see his open eyes clear of paint. you tell him that he can wash his face now, but before you can pull away and let him get back to it, cheol uses his hold on your hips to pull you into a hug. his lips immediately find yours, tongue slowly entering your mouth so he can deepen the kiss. you kiss him right back, melting in his arms because of how gently he’s kissing you.

your hands rub his chest as he’s kissing you, his own hands travelling up your back, pulling your (his) shirt with it, cold air greeting your ass that is only in a pair of panties.

slowly pulling away, cheol again looks at you with those eyes, making you feel something catch in your throat at the look he’s giving you.

smiling gently, he bends down a little so he can kiss your forehead, the whole action performed slowly and gently.

pulling away yet again, he smiles again as he uses one hand to cup your cheek, thumb slowly rubbing your skin as he looks at you.

seconds go buy as he just watches you before he lightly says in the little space between you “i am so in love with you. you don’t even know it but you own my whole being. i want to give you the world. i want to spend eternity with you, if you would let me.” he pauses so he can push his forehead against your own. almost inaudibly, he adds “in this world, it’s just you and me, love. i don’t need anybody else as long as i have you.”

and as you kiss him to shut him up before he says something else and makes you cry yet again, you think to yourself.

if only you knew, choi seungcheol. if only you knew.

[chocolilies]

─── messy sheets. ꒱

( ୨ৎ. roronoa zoro x fem!reader. . .ᐟ

one of zoro's many favourite things about dating you is how you pick up on each other's mannerisms.

◟ꪆ୧ nsfw (afab!reader, thigh riding, groping, fingering) porn with a tiny bit of plot, though the plot is mostly fluffy! based on this request! spreading my titty fiend!zoro agenda... reblogs and comments are appreciated a lot!! (⁠ʃ⁠ƪ⁠＾∇⁠＾) !

w.c : 3.2k.

also on ao3 + op masterlist !

“don’t ever come back here again!”

“you don't own the ship, asshole! I'll go wherever I want!”

dodging a kitchen knife, zoro slammed the door to the galley shut, stomping down the corridor as anger seethed through him. 

“can’t even get a drink in peace,” zoro growled as he clutched at one of his swords, pushing open the door to your room, having half the mind to turn back around and slice the cook up a bit until he set eyes on your bed. 

he found you sprawled out horizontally over the covers, one of his too-big-for-you shirts pulled over your sleeping body, head falling off of one of the pillows, while you hugged the other tight against your chest. 

now, one thing zoro loved about dating you was seeing just how much you influenced each other. 

when you’d both first joined luffy’s crew, you’d snap and whine at him for napping at the most random intervals of time, kicking him awake or simply complaining very loudly with nami about how he used his free time, driving the swordsman up the walls. 

yet after all that time spent grumbling about his sleeping habits before you’d gotten together (and maybe a bit more after that), here you were. messily spread out on your shared bed with drool running down your chin, taking one of those naps you once objected so much against. 

he held in a laugh, his tiff with the cook fizzling away in his mind as he took in your sleeping figure, the light from the afternoon sun shining into the room and hitting you in an almost angelic way, which for zoro, you were nothing but. 

he carefully propped up his swords against the wall, shaking his shoes off before silently moving towards what you’d both silently agreed on was his side of the bed, though thanks to the way you had moved around in your bed, were now occupied by your bare legs. 

zoro had once heard about how you moved around a lot during your sleep, having heard nami’s complaints about your sleepy kicks or slaps back when you used to share a bed with her, always laughing loudly at the way you would shy away from her in embarrassment, unaware of how squirmy you were asleep. 

surprisingly enough, though, the moment you started to sleep alongside zoro, you stopped moving. maybe it was because of his incredible pain tolerance (since one slap from you would hardly register as painful) that your movements didn’t stir him awake, or maybe it was because of the unyielding grip he had on you the moment his arms found your wriggly body. 

he found it hilarious that it was the latter. 

zoro carefully took both of your ankles in one hand, pushing your legs and subsequently moving your body so you were lying in a more “appropriate” manner, though considering the many times he’d ended up horizontal on a bed, he shouldn't really be judging. 

once he’d made enough space for himself, he let go, kneeling on the mattress before pulling his shirt and haramaki off, polloping himself down on the bed as soon as he’d flung them across the room (something he knew he’d get reprimanded for later).

a grunt left him as he tried to get comfortable, arms immediately spread out instinctively to find your body, wrapping them around your waist and dragging you across the already messy covers into his chest. 

you let out a whine as the rough movements forced you to let go of the pillow you’d been cuddling, though seemed to immediately calm down once you subconsciously realised whose arms you were now in. 

“messy girl,” zoro murmured as he looked around the state your bed’s covers were in after what he assumed had been less than an hour (he clearly recalled you screaming at luffy for something or other a bit before he’d wandered into the kitchen), craning his head so he could press a sloppy kiss against your cheek. “mean, too. napping without me…”

he adjusted the arm underneath you so it was right against your neck, not wanting for you to grow uncomfortable with it digging into your waist, watching as you immediately rested your head against his warm bicep, letting out a soft noise of content. 

his other arm, though, had completely other plans. he moved it from its place around your waist, dragging his hand underneath the oversized shirt of his you’d stolen, placing his warm palm right above the elastic band of your panties, chuckling as your body shivered in response. 

one thing you'd quickly learned about zoro the moment you'd started dating was that he loved your tits. 

he'd once “joked” about throwing all of your bras overboard one day in which you'd walked out of your room without one, eyes trained to your chest each time you walked by, not shying away from showing his attraction to you in that state, though you (and everyone else who had heard his proclamation) knew he was fully capable of doing it. 

zoro's hands were on you every chance you got, taking your tits into his hands and squeezing like they were stress balls, thumb and index slowly working on your pebbling nipples, chin perched on your shoulder and just watching, never making a sound except for the sighs or grunts that would leave him in response to your own whimpering noises. 

sometimes it wasn't even sexual. sometimes he just found comfort in groping you, playing with the flesh as you say in his lap working on something or as a stress reliever after a particularly gruelling battle. 

this, he thought as slid one of his legs between yours, was not one of those times. 

zoro leaned down to press kisses to the exposed skin of your shoulder, leading a trail right up to the spot behind your ear, smirking as you shivered in response to the soft blow of air from his breathing. 

“...’ro.” you mumbled sleepily, hand moving to cover the one that had started playing with your tummy, stirring awake due to his movements, completely different to how zoro could sleep through wars if he wished to. 

“mornin’,” he joked breathlessly into your ear, deciding to continue teasing as he nibbled at your ear lobe, making you squeak and try to move away. “hey, hey, stop moving.” 

“stop bitin’!” you slurred out tiredly, swatting at his face with a huff, knowing it was probably pulled into an annoyingly smug look. 

“can't… ‘specially not when you look this cute in my shirt, all sleepy…” 

“you get turned on by the weirdest things…” you groaned, already feeling his hand start to move up your abdomen, going directly towards his two favourite things. 

his teeth immediately sunk into your neck in response to your little insult, taking advantage of your body's natural reaction to the pain to finally grab at your tits, tugging at your nipple almost immediately, his other arm moving from the position he'd previously put it in to grab at your other tit, not wanting to leave out any of your two girls.

“you’re so pervy, zo… y’re no better than-” your words were cut off as you moaned out in surprise at the immediate attack on your slowly pebbling nipples, the action sending shockwaves through your body, arms lying stiff at your side as you tried to decide what do with your hands, teasing words fizzling away in your mind, too busy enjoying the way your boyfriend was massaging your chest. 

“don't.” zoro growled into your ear with a pinch to your nipples, a high pitched whine leaving your mouth at the little retaliation, knowing full well what was about to leave your mouth, not wanting to think about the perv-cook when he was in the middle of playing with his girl's tits. 

“m-meanie…” you gasped, back arching at the slight pain that accompanied the pleasure that rushed through your body at his actions, feeling the leg that he'd slipped between your own start to move, the coarse material of his trousers along with the pressure of his thigh pressing tight against your panty-clad core. 

“yeah? ‘m just a big meanie?” zoro grunted, licking at the spot he'd previously sunk his teeth in, slowly but surely moving his thigh back and forth, loving the way your tiny frame jumped and shivered at every stimulation he gave. 

“y-yeah-” breathlessly, you started to move down to meet the movements of his stiff thigh, muscles rippling between your legs despite the little effort it took for him to move like this in comparison to you, who was already growing tired from the constant movements without the help like you usually had. 

“this is me being nice,” he licked a stripe up your neck to the spot behind your ear, where he pressed a very uncharacteristically sweet kiss to, your mind flowing with confusion as to how he could focus on kissing, groping and grinding into you all at once. 

well, considering you were dealing with a man who fought with three swords, you shouldn't be surprised at his dexterity. 

each movement of his thigh against where you needed him most sent waves of pleasure through your tired body, and you could anxiously tell that you were leaving a damp spot on his trousers by the way you were dripping, your boyfriend's ministrations enough to get your pussy soaked. 

it also didn't help that each time he pulled his leg forward, his knee would bump against your already throbbing clit, sending shockwaves up your spine and forcing whines out of your wet lips, saliva pooling in your mouth and threatening to slide down your chin like it previously had been doing during your nap. 

“y’really don't want me to be mean,” he taunted, leaving more kisses across the expanse of skin his too-big shirt exposed for him to touch, fingers letting go of your already abused nipples, a sigh of relief leaving your parted lips at that, focusing instead on groping at the rest.

at your lack of response, zoro grinned, basking in the sounds you were making before he slid his leg out of yours, not missing the way they immediately tried to press down onto it, a horrified sound leaving you at the sudden lack of pleasure. 

“z-zo!” you exclaimed, trying to turn around to look at him, but by the way he had you pressed tightly against, you found that movement to be impossible. “wh-what was that for?” 

your whines were music to his ears, ignoring the way you were squirming in his arms, though his hands continued to play with your tits. “what was what for?” 

he acted like he hadn't just put a pin in your pleasure, instead moving to grind his front against your backside, evidence of his growing pleasure pressing into your ass. 

“mean enough for you now?” 

you whined at his taunt, a gasp escaping you as one of his hands let go of your tits, confusion filling you as to what that lonely hand would be getting up to. 

“‘m sorry!” you whined, finding it slightly ridiculous that you were apologising for simply implying that your boyfriend was being mean, though you would've done anything to get that beautiful pleasure back. “please- please…” 

“please what?” you could hear the smirk in his voice, though by the way his hand was already trailing down your stomach towards your soaked cunt, you knew you wouldn't have to do any more begging except to please him. 

“touch- touch me, pleaseee…” you begged, even though his index and middle finger were already teasing the spot right above your clit, tracing the soft texture of your panties, trying to discern which pair you'd worn that day. 

“there's my girl.” he grinned, pride filling him up as he finally got that initial brattiness out of you, pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek as his fingers went up to the elastic band of your underwear, reaching his hand under it and running over your pubic hair, fingers sliding right between your soppy folds. 

your breath hitched in your throat as he immediately found your tiny bundle of nerves, already an expert on how your body worked and what you needed from him, rubbing slow circles into it like he knew you liked, a sharp contrast to the way he'd previously been grinding his leg against it. 

your legs twitched with every movement, your pleasure picking up from where he'd left off, tummy growing warm as he toyed with you, and though you could feel yourself slowly making your way up to your orgasm, you knew zoro wouldn't let you cum just like that. 

“shit, she's a messy girl, jus’ listen to her…” he murmured, referring to the sounds your cunt was making with every move of his finger, adding a second one in hopes that the cacophony of sounds would increase. 

“don't teaseee…” you drawled out, lolling your head back against his shoulder as he peppered kisses all over you, sliding his fingers around the erogenous zones around your clit, sparking pleasure all over you. 

“‘m not teasing.” he grunted, his hips jerking slightly to make contact with your ass, rubbing his erection against you in tandem with his own fingers, though still completely zeroed in on your pleasure. “I jus’ know what she wants.” 

you puffed out your cheeks, though whatever you were about to snap back died in your throat as he finally slid his fingers down to your soaked entrance, teasingly running his fingers around the ring of muscles. 

“fuck, y’feel tight.” zoro groaned, the heel of his palm pressing right into your clit, stimulating your little nub with each twitch of his fingers. 

“gonna fuck me open?” you jeered, out of breath at the continuous amount of pleasure being forced onto your sleepy body, another wave of slick leaving your cunt at the thought of getting fucked. 

“fuck, I wish…” zoro rasped, cock twitching against your back at the shared idea, shaking his head slightly, too comfortable in this position to move around. “not today, though. ‘m just enjoying playing with your little cunt for now.”

he slipped his middle finger into your hole before you could even reply, though he knew you had no qualms with his reply, always admiring his hands and exclaiming how much you loved having them on your pussy. 

his finger immediately found your g-spot, arching it to rub against the spongy spot that made your toes curl, palm still grinding against your clit deliciously. 

“s-so good!” you cried out, one of your hands grabbing at the arm he'd shoved down your panties, nails digging into his tanned skin in pleasure, though no pain registered, too busy playing with your cunt to focus on it. 

“yeah? ‘course it is, it's me.” he said, ego inflating at his own words as you twitched in his arms, slipping another finger into your tight heat to join the attack on your g-spot, his other hand still playing with your tit, warm pleasure building up in your tummy as he worked you out. “‘know you better than anyone.” 

fuck, it almost pissed you off how right he was. 

“no one like me, right?” 

“no one!” you cried out on instinct, moving your hips in tandem with his hand, amplifying the rising pleasure and grinding back on his stiff cock at the same time. “only one for me, zo!”

“atta fucking girl.” he spat out, breathless from the possessive talk and the own pleasure that was rushing through his body, pre leaking from his tip and forming a wet patch against his trousers. “y’close?” 

“mhm!” you shook your head up and down aggressively, moans and whines tumbling out of your mouth as you neared your peak, hand pulling at zoro's arm to alert him of it and ask that- 

“I got you, don't worry.” he sighed, knowing what you wanted before you even said it out loud, pulling his fingers out of you with a loud squelch, pressing his wet fingers against your clit like you wanted and rubbing quick circles onto it, your legs shaking as your hips tried to keep up with the sudden switch in stimulation, though thankful for the help, as it was what you needed to get where you wanted to the most. 

“fu-fuck, zoro! m’so close!” 

zoro knew what that meant. already too familiar with your body and your needs, he knew that that meant to continue whatever he was doing. not to speed up, not to slow down, not to switch techniques, just keep doing what was making his girl scream. 

“it's okay, I got you,” he almost purred, grip tightening on your tit as his hips jutted out to search for stimulation on his leaking cock, although he knew he'd probably be able to cum just by witnessing your orgasm alone. 

“oh god, oh god-” zoro grunted at your words, knowing that he'd usually let out a teasing ‘god’s not fucking you this good, baby’, at your whiny words, smirking as you immediately changed your tune. “zoro! oh, zoro, zoro!

your mouth flew open in a silent scream as you finally reached your peak, riding out your orgasm with help of zoro's fingers, that were quickly covered in slick by the way you'd came, soaking both his hand and your panties, probably even leaking onto the already messy covers. 

you whined as the hand that had been groping you moved to grab at your neck, moving your head painfully to a side so zoro could slot his lips against yours, drinking up your moans and whimpers as you swapped spit, eyes wide open and taking in the way you were falling apart on his fingers. 

you quickly found yourself twitching in overestimation once your orgasm washed away, whining into zoro's mouth, a telltale sign to slowly stop his ministrations. 

“hey, hey…” he shushed you as he leaned back, letting you lie down properly as he propped himself up on the bed, watching you shiver in the aftershocks of your orgasm as he pulled his fingers back from your perky clit, leaning back down quickly to press a kiss between your furrowed brows. “y’okay?” 

you hummed in response, cracking your eyes open to take a look at your grinning boyfriend, his face flushed and sweaty as his chest rose and fell with each quick breath, almost like he'd- 

“zo, just by-?”

“just by seeing you, yeah.” he exhaled, eyes flicking down to his bulge, cock softening against his trousers as he himself came down from his high, bringing the fingers he'd used on you up to his mouth and licking them clean, eyes darting around the room as if he wasn't in the middle of licking your juices off his fingers. 

“don't goooooo…” you whined, knowing he was probably looking for the closest thing he could use to clean you up, much rather preferring cuddles with your boyfriend to a dry cunt. 

you outstretched your arms out to him and made grabby hands, watching as he grinned in response to your need actions, landing on top of you with a grunt and resting his head right on the tits he'd previously been attacking. 

“brute!” you gasped, hands finding solace in his hair and running through his green strands, pouting down at your boyfriend. 

“mmm… next time don't let me suck your tits, unless you wanna see a real brute.” 

[amrluv]

THE KATS FIGHTING FOR READER LIKE THEY WERE FIGHTING FOR THAT DAMN PROMOTION IN THE GABRIELLA MVVVV PLEASESSSS

( #! ) oo the plot was too good i had to write a lot

there wasn't a clear indicator on when this all started, on when their madness began. but to you, this was truly never-ending.

from your earliest memory, it all started on new years eve. music blasted from the speakers, a random song only popular in the 2010s filling the house. the inside was crowded—a sea of tipsy, carefree individuals no longer caring if they stand in anyone's way. the smell of sweat, somehow, and weed hit you immediately; overwhelming your already alert senses. it was a nightmare in there, but you kept pushing.

pushing your way into the kitchen, a hand grasped at your wrist. it was gentle, but firm enough to make you pause. “you're here!”

the cheery voice of manon filled your ears—a stark contrast to the chaos around you. “come with me, i wanna show you something.”

as soon as she started to pull you away another hand pulled you in the opposite direction. sophia appeared by your side, a hand resting on your shoulder. “actually, i was thinking she should come with me. i've been dying to get to talk to her more.”

manon's smile cracks. it's small, but doesn't go unnoticed by sophia. “well i had her first.” she tugged at your wrist, earning a scowl from the raven haired girl. “this isn't some ‘finders keepers’ bullshit.” sophia spat back, her hand leaving you to instead shove the other girl.

manon glared at sophia intensely, her grip on you loosening before she finally let go. “the fuck is your problem?” the tension was thick, a few bystanders watching their interaction. shit, this wasn't something you wanted to get involved in.

while the girls were distracted, you slipped away from them, weaving your way through the packed crowd.

it was good for a while. you managed to lose the fighting girls—finally enjoying the party rather than worrying. you'd managed to settle down on a somehow not packed couch in the living room; downing a drink of whatever concoction you were given. before you could fully enjoy your peace, megan came around to break it.

"hey, you enjoying the party?" she sat down next to you without asking. she was close, too close for it to be friendly—her thigh touching yours, knees knocking together. "it's alright." you took another sip of your drink, hoping the liquor will ease your nerves of what was to come.

megan was silent, too silent that it teetered on being unnerving. the usually bubbly, loud girl was now watching you like a hawk. her gaze moved from your lips to your throat, watching as you swallowed the liquid. she let out a quiet hum, moving closer to you. "you know what would make this party even better?" she began, voice husky.

"mind if i join you?"

your eyes snapped up as soon as you heard a new voice. lara. of course.

without another word she sat down on the other side of you, sitting just as close to you as megan. now, you were sandwiched between two girls vying for your attention—their gazes sharp as they glared at each other from either side.

"it's almost midnight, you got a kiss?" lara suddenly asked you. though, her eyes remained on megan whose narrowed once she heard the question. "actually, lara," megan made sure to accentuate her name, "i was hoping she'd be my new years kiss."

lara's jaw noticeably clenched at her reply, cocking her head to the side to look at you once more. "well, why don't we ask her instead?"

suddenly, all eyes were on you. their desperate, yet irritated, eyes fell upon yours. it was uncomfortable. if you chose lara, megan would get upset. if you chose megan, lara would get upset. if you left, both of them would get upset. it was a lose-lose situation—and you didn't know what to do.

"i.. um.." you hesitated, glancing between the two girls who watched expectantly.

"what about me?"

fuck, another one.

daniela's voice broke the silence, eyes moving towards her standing figure. she watched with folded arms, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lip. "you two are just freaking her out. she should just be my kiss. i'd be better, anyways."

"what the fuck, daniela?" megan's voice rose in pitch, astounded by the accusation she placed upon them. lara was equally shocked, scoffing at the insinuation. "i'm not a bad kisser."

"mhm, sure." daniela nodded, voice dripping in sarcasm. the brunette let out a sigh, extending a hand towards you. "c'mon, there's only a few more minutes until midnight."

lara stood, trying to swat daniela's hand away. "no way! you're not winning this time, dani."

megan mirrored lara, placing her hands on her hips as she came eye to eye with daniela. "yeah, no way." she looked back towards you. "just let me be your midnight kiss."

objections came from the other girls immediately, bickering ensuing between the three women. the clocked ticked down, nearing closer and closer to the expected hour. closer to the moment you'd have to choose.

[sceletaflores]

come on into my bed with me (i know you want to)

pair: old man!logan howlett x fem!reader

wc: 4.1k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, some sad vibes because i can't function without them, large age gap (but isn't that obvious by now? mid 20s/old as fuck), established relationship but only kind of, falls in the logan 2017 timeline but very loosely, LONGINGGGG, gratuitous nickname use (kid, baby, honey, ect), nasty dirty talk cause he's old and gross, not so dry humping, JUST THE TIP RAHHHH, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: this was heavily inspired by imogen heap's 'i am in love with you' because that song fucks so hard and it really gave me lots of old man logan vibes. i was just so overcome with nasty thoughts that the beat possessed me and i blacked out and listened to it on a constant repeat while i wrote this instead of doing my a&p work. kisses!

dividers by angel @saradika-graphics!

you can't sleep, logan left his door open...

Rain pelts at the smudged glass of your window, drops trailing down the span of the panes that you follow with your eyes.

It's been raining nearly all week, a rare thing in Mexico, especially somewhere as dry as Sonora.

You used to love the rain. You felt a special kind of comfort anytime night would come and there'd be a certain chill swirling through the air, that familiar scent of damp soil and wet stone rising as the first drops hit the ground.

In Sonora, rain is supposed to be a gift—a reprieve from the unrelenting heat, a chance for the dry earth to drink.

It should feel cleansing, like a reset of sorts, and maybe it would have a few months ago.

Now it just feels heavy, oppressive. Each raindrop splattering against the glass feels like a reminder of everything that's stuck, unmoving.

The soft noise of it was almost enough to lull you to sleep, but it was still no match for your wandering mind.

You’ve been finding yourself here a lot recently, shrouded in the scratchy sheets of your bed in the quiet dark encompassing your room, mind racing.

It was raining the first night he touched you.

You've been with Logan and Charles for nine months.

A runaway hitchhiker turned caretaker after you fled from the meaningless scraps of your life back in Texas.

Logan found you on the side of the highway coming back from a shift in El Paso. One stop with the hazards on and a hasty conversation through a rolled down window later, you were throwing your bags in the back of his limo and climbing into the front seat.

You didn't realize until much later that he never truly asked you to stay, or to care for Charles alongside him.

It was only supposed to be a temporary arrangement, a roof over your head in exchange for your help. Watch over his ailing father for a few days while he went out to get him more medicine, that's what you settled on.

Yet somehow, here you are, nine months later.

You cook meals in a dusty kitchen that always smells faintly of motor oil, listen to Charles’ stories about a world you’ll never fully grasp, and watch Logan patch himself up in grim silence after he’s returned from whatever trouble found him this time. 

It's strange how the days seemed to stretch endlessly, but the weeks have slipped past like a blink. You carved out a routine in this crumbling house in Sonora, built something that resembles a life even if it feels borrowed, like a second-hand coat that never quite fits right.

At first, you weren’t sure what kept you here. Maybe Charles. 

You warmed to him almost immediately, drawn in by his gentle demeanor and the way he seemed to see right through you without a hint of judgment. 

Even when his mind faltered, slipping into tangled memories or distant fragments of a life long past, he treated you with a kindness you hadn’t felt in years.

You’d come to think of him as a king, regal and noble. A king stripped of his castle, yet still wearing a crown, if ever so skewed—a king nonetheless.

You still aren’t sure, but you can’t shake the sense that leaving now would be like tearing off a scab—painful and unnecessary.

And then, one night, the rain came.

You remember it vividly, a torrent so sudden and unrelenting. The downpour soaking the dry dirt surrounding the plant. 

You couldn’t help yourself from wandering out, stood barefoot on the porch as the cool air nipped at the skin of your arms and legs.

“You’re gonna catch a cold standin’ out here.” Logan said from somewhere behind you, his voice rough and low after the silence of a long shift.

You hadn’t moved, hadn’t even glanced his way. “I like the rain.”

There was a beat of silence before he stepped closer, the warmth of his body radiating against your back. His hand had been hesitant at first, a brush of calloused fingers against your arm. 

You didn’t pull away.

The heat of his palm felt scalding, causing goosebumps to pebble along your damp skin. His thumb swiped across the circular scar just above your elbow, a cigarette burn, one of many.

He didn’t say anything as he turned and walked back into the house. You learned quickly that Logan’s not the type to fill silences with empty words, but you both knew something shifted.

He came into your room later that night. The squeaky mattress of your bed dipping under his weight as he slid his hand down your stomach, pausing just above the waistband of your shorts, a silent question.

He didn’t kiss you, but the rain pattering against the tin roof was enough to swallow your soft moans and gasps.

You settled into something undefined—a constant push and pull of need and silence. Logan touched you when he needed to, and you let him because you wanted to.

It wasn’t love, not then. It wasn’t even comfort. But it was connection. A tenuous thread in the quiet storm of your lives.

You figured that was enough.

The rain hasn't slowed. If anything, the howl of the wind is stronger than before.

The soothing rhythm of droplets hitting your window turned aggressively sharp, like darts thrown against a worn cork board.

The boom of thunder is nearly in sync with the pulse of your core, aching and insistent in its need.

It’s been weeks since Logan touched you last, his endless cycle of guilt stronger than it's been before. He’s never outright said it, but you know it’s there.

The silence between you both has stretched longer than you'd like to admit, a quiet that isn't comfortable anymore.

You know he’s got it in his head that he’s somehow taken advantage of you. A perverted old man falling weak to the pretty, young thing taking up space in the bed two doors over from him.

The thought stirs something deep within you, a mix of frustration and confusion. He’s not wrong, not exactly—but he’s not right either. You aren’t a child, and you aren’t helpless. You knew what you wanted, what you needed.

And that hasn’t dared to change.

You shift in bed, the sheets tangling around your legs as your body hums with a restlessness you can’t shake. The air in your room feels thick, charged, and suffocating, a mirror of the space between you and Logan.

He doesn’t understand that you want him too, that you weren’t some helpless thing to be protected or shielded from his darkness. It eats at you until your skin is practically buzzing with it, buzzing with the need to show him.

There’s only so much silence you can take before it becomes too loud to ignore. 

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, the hardwood cool against your bare feet. You know it’s late, but you don’t care.

You walk through the dimly lit hallway, the creak of the floorboards quiet under you as you make your way to Logan’s door. It’s cracked open, a yellow glow spilling through to guide you like a lighthouse guides its ships to shore.

When you reach the beat up wood you don’t hesitate, you push it open the slightest bit, peering through the widened gap. 

He’s there, sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to you. He doesn’t turn, doesn’t acknowledge you, but you know he knows you’re there.

You cross the threshold, your heartbeat loud in your ears as you pull the door shut behind you, leaning your back against it.

“Logan,” you say softly, your voice rougher than you intended.

He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he runs his hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face. The lamplight catches the sharp planes of his face, a familiar weariness etched into his features.

His fingers flex at his sides, and for a moment, you think he’s going to tell you to leave—to go back to your room where it’s safe, where you won’t make things more complicated than they already are. You almost brace for it.

But then he speaks.

“What’s wrong, kid.” His voice is nothing but a deep rumble, like gravel crunching underfoot.

You shrug noncommittally, hands messing with a stray thread hanging from the edge of your shorts. “Can’t sleep.”

Logan sighs long and slow through his nose, hands pressing into his thighs. “Thought you liked the rain.”

You smile faintly at the irony, chest swelling with something dangerous. 

You take a step further into the room, pushing yourself off the closed door. The familiar scent of him invades your senses. It’s a mixture of leather, earth, and something raw—something undeniably him. 

You stand there for a moment, letting the silence stretch thin and taut before you finally speak.

“Can I stay?” The words come out barely above a whisper, but they land like a crack of lightning.

You feel your heart thud painfully in your chest, not from fear, but from the sudden vulnerability that makes your skin burn.

The room feels smaller now, the walls pressing in as you step forward, each movement slow and deliberate. You stop at the edge of his bed, the sheets pressing against the bare skin of your thighs.

Logan’s gaze flickers over his shoulder, meeting yours briefly before he looks away again, like he’s trying to convince himself that the ache in his chest isn’t real.

“You should go back to bed,” he says, voice gruff. “It’s late.”

“I don’t want to go back.” You shake your head even though he isn’t turned around to see it.

Without thinking, you crawl onto the bed, the comforter making soft shushing sounds under your hands and knees. You reach out, fingers brushing the back of his neck, the muscles there tight with strain.

Logan flinches slightly, but he doesn’t pull away, and that’s all the permission you need.

You shift closer, pressing your chest against his back, and letting your hands settle on his shoulders. The heat between you is electric, charged with something unsaid, something raw and undeniable.

“Please,” you whisper, your lips brushing against the back of his ear, your voice a mixture of defiance and desire.

Logan stiffens, but this time, you feel the shudder that runs through him, the way his body responds despite the walls he’s built around himself.

You know he’s torn, that he wants to fight this. You feel it in the tension that radiates from him, in the way his body seems to be fighting against the instinct to turn toward you.

But you don’t care anymore. You’re done with silence.

Your fingers slide down his back, feeling the rough fabric of his shirt against your skin as you press yourself closer. Your breath is hot against his neck now, and you can feel the rapid pulse in his veins beneath your lips as you hover just above his skin, waiting.

“Logan…” Your voice is softer now, almost pleading. You don’t know what you’re asking for, but you don’t have to.

His hand comes up, brushing against your wrist as if testing, as if he’s afraid you’ll pull away. But you don’t.

Instead, you lean into him further, your lips brushing the curve of his neck, whispering into the tension that still hangs heavy between you. “Please.”

The last shreds of Logan’s resistance snap under the cloying weight of your touch.

He’s moving before you can even register what’s happening, rearing up with heavy hands that land on your shoulders to push you backwards.

You fall back onto the bed with a soft gasp, bouncing on the mattress once, twice, before Logan follows. His body settles over yours like a warm blanket, thick forearms braced on either side of your head to support his weight.

"Why couldn't you sleep, honey?" he asks, dark eyes boring into yours intense enough to get your stomach churning. The green of them is deeper than normal, like fresh moss growing over stone.

“I was thinking,” you whisper, breathless. Your pulse races beneath your skin, you wonder distantly if he can hear it too.

“Thinkin’ about what?” he presses, breath fanning over your lips temptingly. 

Your brows furrow, a soft noise escaping you. You can't help but tell the truth. “About you.”

Logan hums, eyes trailing along your face slowly. He slots a knee between your thighs, groaning softly at the wet heat that seeps through to his jeans.

You gasp, hips bucking down instinctively. Your pussy aches desperately, leaking arousal into the cotton gusset of your panties.

His jaw clenches at the sound, muscle ticking just beneath the grey of his beard. “Is that right? You been layin' in that bed, thinkin' about me, gettin’ all worked up?"

Your face burns under his scrutiny, but you don’t shy away. You arch your back, pressing yourself as close to him as possible, letting the heat of your body speak for you.

“Yeah,” you breathe, the confession trembling on your lips. “I need you, it hurts.”

Logan exhales sharply, like the words knocked the air out of him. His hands slide from your shoulders, rough palms gliding down the skin of your arms before settling right under the swell of your breasts.

“Where’s it achin’, baby?” he asks softly, words almost getting lost in the dark of the room. “Show me.”

You let out a soft breath, reaching down to take his hand in yours.

Without breaking eye contact, you guide his hand down your trembling body until his palm rests over the apex of your thighs, where the damp fabric of your shorts clings to your swollen folds.

“Here,” you whisper, voice barely audible above the rain pounding against his window.

A low growl rumbles from deep in his chest, and his fingers press more firmly against you, feeling the slick heat that’s soaked through the thin cotton. His eyes darken further, the green almost swallowed by the black of his pupils.

Logan’s thumb drags over your clit, slow and deliberate, coaxing a needy whimper from your lips.

“Jesus,” he mutters, his voice thick. “You’re drippin’ for me, aren’t you? Didn’t even need to touch you, and you’re already so fuckin’ wet.” 

You whimper softly, bucking your hips against his hand, desperate for more.

"I've been like this all night," you admit, your voice going high and needy. "Thinking about how good you make me feel. How much I want you."

Logan’s eyes lock onto yours, and there’s something new swirling through them, something you’ve never seen before.

A beat passes—too long—almost agonizing. His free hand lifts from your hip, gently cupping your cheek, fingers brushing against your skin, like he isn’t sure if he has the right to touch you like this. 

His thumb brushes your lip, his gaze flicking to your mouth before returning to your eyes, asking for permission, even though neither of you had ever really needed it before.

"Logan," you say, the sound a little breathless, unsure of how to navigate this sudden shift, but he doesn’t keep you waiting.

He closes the distance in a heartbeat, lips crashing into yours with a ferocity you didn’t expect.

It’s like the world around you falls away, leaving only the warmth of his lips, the taste of him, and the pressure of his body against yours. The raging storm outside dulling until it’s nothing but fuzzy background noise.

His kiss is rough, deep, urgent, but there’s something more in it, a slow unraveling. Like he’s trying to carve himself into you, a permanent mark, a reminder that he was here, even if he never says it out loud.

Logan tastes like rich smoke and whiskey, the sharp edge of him mixing with the sweet burn of need. It sends your head reeling, arms coming up to circle around his neck.

You can’t find the words to describe it, not with the way his fingers slide through the wetness gathering at your entrance, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

Your hips thrust upward, begging for more, your body hungry for the release he’s just out of reach of giving.

“Want you inside me, Logan,” you moan desperately, slick lips brushing his with every word. “Please.”

Logan's body stiffens against yours at the sound of your pleading, his grip tightening on your cheek like he's trying to anchor himself in the reality of what you're asking.

“Shit,” he growls under his breath, his forehead pressing to yours as he closes his eyes. His chest heaves, the tension in his body palpable. "I—" he pauses, struggling to form the words, but you can see it in his eyes. He's conflicted, desperate, yet still hesitant.

You move against him, your body restless, your need undeniable, feeling the rigid outline of his hard cock pressed firmly against your thigh. A thick plane of heat that has your pussy clenching around the tips of his fingers.

You don’t want to push him, not anymore. But you’re past the point of waiting for permission.

Your lips meet his again, softer this time, coaxing, until he finally gives in, groaning against your mouth as he kisses you back with an intensity that steals your breath.

“I want to feel you,” you whisper, your hands trailing down to the hem of his shirt, pushing it over the swell of his pecs. 

His skin is hot under your fingertips, rough and familiar. Your fingers trail lightly across his chest, nails scratching through the salt and pepper hair dusted across his skin as you urge him closer.

“Just the tip,” Logan mutters under his breath, barely above a whisper. His voice hoarse, like he’s bargaining with himself. “Just to make you feel good, but that’s it, understand?”

You bite your lip, the edge of frustration gnawing at you. It’s not everything you need, not everything you want, but it's something. And right now, it’s enough.

You nod your head, hands already moving to the front of his jeans. You undo the button with shaking fingers, tugging the zipper down and pushing the worn denim away. 

His cock springs free, already hard, leaking with the same desperation you feel. You run your fingers along his length, feeling the heat of him, the steady throb of his pulse.

Logan peels down the thin layer of your shorts, cursing under his breath when he finds you completely bare underneath, your slick pussy shining under the dim light.

You watch him, chest heaving, as he stares down at you—his eyes dark and full of something primal, something raw.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his fingers tracing the outline of your wetness. He groans low in his throat, his thumb circling your clit once before moving down, dipping inside you just barely. “You’re perfect, baby.”

“Logan,” you whine, thighs spreading in a clear invitation. You patience is running exceedingly thin, your whole body alight with the feeling of a raging forest fire

“I know,” he mutters, placating. He takes the throbbing length of his cock in his hand, swiftly settling between your legs. “I know.”

The thick head drags through your folds, smearing pre-come along your skin and adding even more to the mess between your legs.

A quiet moan passes through your swollen lips, your muscles tightening as he slides himself along your clit. A slow back and forth movement that sends sparks shooting up your spine.

Logan grits his teeth, his breath shallow, as he finally aligns himself with your clenching hole. 

The air around you feels charged, a taut thread stretched between anticipation and restraint. You shift your hips slightly, just enough to encourage him, your eyes locked on his as you beg him silently with your gaze.

Then, with a low growl that vibrates through you, he pushes forward, just enough to make you gasp in relief, the head of his cock sliding home in your entrance.

And though it’s only the tip, the sensation of him inside you is enough to set your world alight. 

You can feel it, deep in your bones—the simmering, searing heat that makes everything else fade into the background.

Logan presses his lips to your forehead, his breath hot against your skin as he keeps his movements slow, deliberate, his hands holding your hips steady. "This is what you wanted, huh? Got you begging for it, honey," he growls softly. "Even if I’m only givin’ you a taste."

His hips roll languidly, staying true to his word and never sinking deeper than the thick head of his cock. His hand grips the base tightly, his fist fucking slow strokes over the length of himself to where he’s spreading your pussy open.

His scarred knuckles bump against your clit with every stroke, fanning the fire building in your lower stomach.

“Feel so fuckin’ good, honey,” he groans into the skin of your neck, the pace of his hips speeding up ever so slightly. “Feels like heaven.”

You claw at the skin of his back, touch wild and desperate. It takes everything in you not to shift your hips down, to sheath the rest of his cock deep inside your and lock your ankles around his back so he can never leave again.

Logan’s lips find your neck, teeth grazing your skin as he shifts against you. “Tell me you want this,” he says, his voice low, almost a command, yet laced with something tender. “Tell me you want me.”

You meet his gaze without hesitation, your voice steady despite the tremble in your chest. “I want you. I’ve always wanted you.” 

The words come out without thought, raw and honest, and you see something in his eyes shift—a flicker of relief, of something deeper than lust.

Logan groans like he got shot, his body shuddering above you as a low growl tears its way from his chest. He fucks into you faster, short, quick thrusts that steal all the breath from your lungs.

Sparks go off behind your closed eyes, bright white and glittering. You can feel yourself getting closer, your body trembling as you grind up against him, meeting him halfway, needing more, needing release.

“Logan,” you gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders harder, nails digging in. “I’m so close. Please—”

“Let go,” he growls, his pace increasing, his body pressing harder against yours. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

With his command, you unravel, the world spinning around you as the pleasure crashes over you, leaving you breathless, gasping for air, your body quivering beneath him as he holds you through it.

Logan follows, tearing himself from the tight grip of your pussy with a sharp jerk of his hips, your name falling from his lips like a prayer as he shoots thick ropes of come over your slick folds.

Your body shakes at the feeling, a breathless whimper pulled from your slack lips at the sticky warmth of his release.

He collapses onto the mattress next to you, his body shuddering enough to match your own. The room falls into a deep silence, the only sounds your mingling breaths and the distant sound of thunder.

A sick sort of dread bursts through the sweet afterglow of your hazy mind, settling in your stomach like a lead weight. You think that this is the moment where Logan will realize what you’ve done, that he’ll retreat back into himself and send you away.

Send you back to your own room and leave you to lay in the cold aftermath of your own recklessness.

You brace for it, the instinct to pull away, to protect yourself from his withdrawal, but it never comes. 

Instead, you feel his strong arm slide over your waist, pulling you closer, his body heat a stark contrast to the chill creeping in from the window.

His breath is warm against your neck as he shifts, his fingers tracing absent circles on your skin in a move that’s so endearingly human it has your chest aching.

"Stay here tonight?" he asks, his voice rough, almost a whisper.

Your heart clenches, tears burning at your waterline at the vulnerability of his tone. It breaks the dam inside you, relief and something dangerously close to love flooding your body in a bursting rush of water.

“Of course,” you murmur, your voice shaky.

Logan’s hand tightens around you, his thumb brushing over your ribs. He presses a soft kiss to the bare skin of your shoulder, settling onto the mattress with a slow breath.

You drift to sleep more relaxed than you’ve felt in years, even with the knowledge of the slow journey that lies ahead of you. It won’t be easy, it never is with Logan. You can’t find it in yourself to care.

Because even though the rain falls, the desert doesn’t bloom overnight. 

And neither do you.

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[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 6

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a (!) player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, strong language, you get your very own samantha from her (2013) lol, time skips as a plot device!, this has an arc i promise, if anybody here plays disco elysium you’ll find that i took concepts of “the pale” as inspo at some points in this chapter lmao A/N: Oof this one’s a little longer than any of the previous chapters. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! <3 (and just a heads up, this might be the last chapter I post before I kick it off for the holidays. advance happy holidays! if you guys celebrate that sort of thing.) 

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10 - Epilogue

There’s a quiet stillness brought by the morning after that makes the problems of a heavier night seem like a fairly distant memory. 

For at least a few minutes past the moment you blink away the stubborn grit in your eyes – you don’t remember the last time you’ve been this well-rested in ages – you lie, listless, on the soft powder-blue bedding of your twin-size mattress, watching specks of dander and dust drift from the amber sunlight that filters through the cracked panes of the casement window. 

It floats aimlessly; unhurried. Much like you.

The echo of last night’s events return to you in sporadic flashes—fragmented and unsteady. The whispered exchanges, the playful banter between you and your unlikely conversation partner play back in your mind, like some half-finished supercut. 

And the more you recall, the more awake you feel, chipping away the last traces of daytime lethargy weighing you down. 

“So, what happens now?”

The sound of a car backfiring breaks through from the outside, like a starting pistol signalling the beginning of another day. A familiar, heavy weight presses against your side, and you thread your fingers through the scraggly fur of the purring feline who’s taken the empty space on your left, just above the covers. 

You breathe in deeply, closing your eyes. 

“I wish I had an answer—I’m still trying to figure that out myself.”

You realize how many questions still linger, a lot more left unanswered. Far more than what you were able to glean, at least. From what little you’ve learned, an entirely new moral dilemma emerges—one you never imagined you'd have to contend with. 

There’s a lot of things you’ve never expected to happen. Yet here you are. 

“Seems we’re at an impasse.” 

It’s an odd thing in itself. You keep waiting for the disbelief to catch up, for a shred of sanity to surface and make you reject the situation you’ve found yourself entangled in. You should be feeling the same, pesky feelings that pulled you sharply out of your flight of fancy last night; a sense of trepidation for what lies ahead in this precarious game of two. 

But instead, you’re here. Now fully awake, and already looking forward to the day with wary acceptance. Looking forward to resuming where you’ve left off with that charming anomaly who’s upended your world, and left you suspended in an exhilarating limbo of uncertainty and excitement.

“...Indeed.”

You crave it—like the first stirrings of a neophyte druggie teetering on the edge of an irreversible habit. 

You need another hit. 

“Why the long face, little dove?”

Because if desire could manifest into being, it would’ve been Sylus. 

“We can figure this out together, can’t we?” 

You pick up your phone. 

––––

“You’re here? Make yourself at home.” 

You look at him, deadpan. He looks back at you serenely. 

Your voice takes on a dry monotone when you respond, “Keep talking like that, I’m about to cum.” 

There’s a shocked silence; then—

Sylus barks out a surprised laugh, immediately breaking character. 

You snort. “Good morning to you too, I guess.” 

He meets your gaze with a look of scandalized amusement, his smile wide enough to flash teeth. 

"Good morning, indeed."

––––

You two fall into a natural rhythm even before the day comes to a close. Perceptive as he is, Sylus hasn’t let you linger in the unease left over from last night any longer than necessary; which to say, should be left buried and forgotten, past its provenance. 

“So you could, like– hypothetically, top up my ascension materials… indefinitely?” There’s a manic shine to your eyes when you confront him back at the home screen, gleeful and triumphant after you boost almost all the 5-star cards you have of him up to max level. “Like an infinite glitch?” 

He’s content to just simply listen to your excited chatter from his languid perch on the seat, one palm resting against the side of his face as he watches you, half-lidded and relaxed. Utterly entertained by your antics.

The slight twitching of his mouth, the subtle tilt of his head… each minute shift in his expression makes a whole world of difference from the version you’ve known him longest—almost a lifetime ago. 

Now he acts so human, so alive, that it’s almost unreal. 

(It’s almost imperceptible, but you swear the air also feels different; like the pixelated space around him is bending, stretching, to accommodate this newer him.) 

“Sure,” he shrugs, lips quirking up into a half-smile as he notices the deep crease forming between your brows. 

He knows the question you’re about to ask, curious thing that you are.

“How, though? Like, what are ‘materials’ to you?” You make air quotes with your fingers, making you appear all the more endearing to him look at, in your process to make sense of a world that’s unfamiliar to you.

“Think of it as upgrades,” Sylus explains patiently. “You place the order to modify the equipment I use, in whichever situation calls for it.”

“And Memory Cards?”

“... A video reel, maybe. Or a restricted case file—locked until you’ve got enough to trade for the information you want.”

“And I suppose the dealer in question here is you?”

He arches an eyebrow. “Who else?”

“Huh,” you say, considering. “So, Deepspace Trials. That’s something you do on the daily? Because I… make you?”

“More or less.”

“And you never thought to question that?” 

“Mm, maybe I’ll start charging for my services this time around.”

You roll your eyes, already accepting his analogy for what it is. “Oh, please. With the amount of money I’ve spent on this game, consider yourself paid in full.” 

––––

You were right about your earlier prediction—this new Sylus in combat mode is something else. 

For starters, he’s a lot chattier.

“Ouch, kitten– don’t charge in like that.”

“Why are you using a sword? Don’t you like the guns I’ve given you specifically for this?” 

“What are you waiting for? Make her resonate with me now.” 

And, instead of sticking to his lines and responding to whatever the MC’s programmed to say during battle, he focuses on whatever you’re fussing over—no matter how… moronic it is.

“Ah, fuck! I hate that spinning thing!” 

“Move, then. Let me handle it.” 

“Block it, block it!”

“I would, if you weren’t halfway across the field. Stick closer to your partner next time, yeah?” 

He doesn’t say any of his usual lines. Nothing from his scripted prompts. When all Wanderers are defeated, there’s no post-battle banter between him and the MC. 

“Goddamn, you’re strong!” You whoop giddily, completely energized by straight winning almost twelve Orbit trials in a row. I guess that’s what a fully awakened Solar pair gets you, huh? 

Sylus lets out a chuckle, infected by your enthusiasm. He doesn’t sound the least bit winded, despite all the damned fighting you’ve put him through.

“We make a good team,” he allows. And because he likes the little nose scrunch you do when you’re annoyed— “Although your dodging really needs more practice, sweetie.” 

Before you could think of a comeback, the pop-up window for the next stage comes up. Ass.

––––

Come Monday morning and you’re once again swamped with work. 

You barely have enough time to scrounge something up for lunch—if it weren’t for the persistent reminders from Sylus, chiming in every five minutes once the digital clock on your phone had hit eleven-thirty, you’d probably skip eating altogether.

And make something else than just boiling a pot of instant ramen, sweetheart. You’re on track for an early grave at this rate. 

“I could… add an egg?” You suggest, unsure. “Maybe cut up some tofu, make it gourmet?”  

He doesn’t even dignify the egg suggestion with a response. Tofu’s a good start. Now, what else do you have in your pantry that has nutritional value? 

“I despise that,” you mutter, but start rifling through the cupboards anyway. 

After amassing enough ingredients—or what looks more like a sad pile—that might, with some effort, turn into something healthier than your usual go-to fix, you start Googling recipes online.

‘tofu easy lunch recipe’

‘10 mins tofu recipes’   

‘begginer recipe using tofu frozen dory mixed veg—’ Ping!

… Really, kitten? 

You don’t even have to see him to know he’s giving you that look, the one that’s practically dripping with judgment over your dubious life choices. 

(You know it all too well. Personally, in fact. You see it on some relatives' faces at the family get-togethers you’re always required to attend.) 

Great. Heat creeps up your face as you mumble defensively, “Stop. Not everyone’s a culinary genius, okay?”

After that, he lets you be – something you’re thankful for, really. He’s being too distracting anyway. 

Swallowing down the–stubborn and suffocating–embarrassment that's now stuck in your throat, you keep scrolling through Tasty dot co, praying you can whip up something edible with what (little) you have. You’re fully aware that you’re a grown-ass woman who can’t manage a basic life skill and that you’re probably about to burn down your kitchen—

Another notification pops up.

Pull up your tabs, sweetie. I think you’ll find something there that we could put together easily.

Confused, you do as he says. Sure enough, four tofu-related recipes are neatly grouped together in your Chrome browser, ready to be tried and tested.  

Your eyes widen. “Wait—you did this? How?”

He doesn’t answer your question. He does, however, offer: Want me to coach you through it? Cooking’s more fun done with a partner, I’d say. 

-

-

In the end, you manage to make something that tasted way better than you thought you could do by yourself. You have him to thank for that.

“You happy with it?” Sylus asks, grinning at the satisfied look on your face.

“Mhm!” you hum around a mouthful of food. “Fanks, Sy.”

“Anytime, darling.”

––––

“Do you really have to call me ‘kitten’? You sound like a Discord mod.” 

Sylus has no idea what a Discord mod is, but judging by the contempt in your voice, it’s clear that you’re not giving him a compliment.

"What do you prefer, then? Princess? Poppet? Sweet thing?" He pauses, tilting his head. "Baby?"

You blush and look away. "...Ugh, whatever. Kitten's fine."

––––

Your routine with Sylus settles into a seamless, effortless flow as the days go by; it’s almost second nature, talking to him. So much so that you’d think nothing could faze you anymore.

Well. Almost nothing. 

A message bubble from an unknown number appears on your lock screen: Hi, sweetheart. X

You almost ignore it – brushing it off as some dumb prank from a bored rando – when, not even five seconds later, another text pops up. 

+0063-XXXXXX: Its Sylus.

… Huh? 

“Is someone fucking with me right now, or…” 

+0063-XXXXXX: Nobodys ‘fucking with you,’ kitten. 

Then–

+0063-XXXXXX: Send a reply so I can see how it shows up on my end.

Your jaw drops. “Holy shit– you can text?? How are you doing that?” and, “Did you just cuss...?” 

+0063-XXXXXX: 👍

+0063-XXXXXX: And Ill let you know if you text me the question 🙄

So you do. You tack on a now spill?? at the end for good measure. 

You watch the “typing…” bubble appear, holding your breath.

+0063-XXXXXX: Its a complex mix of technical code and harnessing the energy from a dormant protofield Ive discovered, just south of Vagrants Land.  

+0063-XXXXXX: The energy I got from it felt different somehow from your normal protofield. I figured I could put it to good use. 

+0063-XXXXXX: Oddly enough, theres an… indescribable effect to oneself when youre nearing the centre of disturbance, shall we say. 

+0063-XXXXXX: I can only decrypt the waveforms by the rarefield border surrounding the AoR. Any further and Im afraid the adverse effects may do more harm than good.

+0063-XXXXXX: But if amplified, it seems responsive to the filament of what connects your signal from deep space to this planet.

+0063-XXXXXX: Who knew it could act as a transmitter to send you something as rudimentary as a telegraph? 

… Sometimes you forget how smart Sylus really is. 

You: that’s pretty amazing ?? wtf sylus  

+0063-XXXXXX: I get by OK. 

You could practically feel his smugness radiating from those four words. You scoff, shaking your head in a mix of awe and begrudging admiration.

He sends two more messages. 

+0063-XXXXXX: Im just glad we can communicate through other means, sweetie. 

Sy-Sy (??): Now save my number. Sy Sy will suffice 😉

––––

Since your latest discovery that Sylus can now text (!!), you’ve been talking to him outside the game non-stop. It’s like talking to a very active friend who never leaves you on read, and you couldn’t be more ecstatic. 

You: so no one else in ur universe knows anything abt ur situation?

You: no one else acting funny or sumn ? >.>

Sy-Sy (??): None that I know of, no. I prefer to keep it under wraps. 

Sy-Sy (??): Now that you mention it, Mephisto has been acting quite suspicious lately. 

You: ?? suspicious-suspicious or just reg suspicious??

Sy-Sy (??): Hes with his other crow friends now. They might be attempting a murder. 

You: ………. is that…. supposed 2 be a joke……….

Sy-Sy (??): Im running on 3 hours of sleep, give me a break.   

Sy-Sy (??): Also your textspeak is horrendous, sweetie. 

"Um, hello–?" 

Your gaze snaps back to the—very real, very present—person sitting across from you at the table, sporting box-dyed blue hair and a frown. You're at the Annex House; a sleek, new-age Japandi-style bar downtown, just an easy five stations away from your place. You both decided to try it for their infamous Rotten Apple cocktail and, of course, your weekly catch-up.

Khol, your friend of eight years since college, is currently giving you a mildly annoyed look.

Oops. 

They point at you accusingly while complaining, "Ugh, we don’t use our phones when we’re hanging out! That’s the rule!"

You smile at them, sheepish, pocketing your phone as discreetly as you could. “I know, I know. Sorry.” 

Then, puffing out your cheeks, you meekly ask, “You were talking about Anna...?”

They roll their eyes but go over the gossip a second time, much to your benefit. Phew.

Your phone vibrates. Twice. 

…

You sneak a quick, final peek.

Sy-Sy (??): Enjoy your night out, darling ❤️ 

Sy-Sy (??): You let me know when youre back home, OK? 

Biting back a grin, you send out one last text in reply. 

You: will do !:9 

Sy-Sy (??): Good girl. 

––––

"Um–so this is my cat, Maru," you say by way of introduction, holding the plump, orange tabby in front of your phone that’s propped up against a carton of Koko Krunch. There’s a slight struggle in lifting his left paw between your fingers to wave at the man on the other side of the screen. "Say hi, Maru."

“Hello, Maru,” Sylus greets amicably in return, watching the both of you with clear amusement in his eyes. “Care to tell me the origin of this proud beast?” 

You recount the story where you’ve first seen Maru five years ago, nothing more than a scraggly little runt at the time, hiding in the gap between a dumpster and the interstice of a cragged wall. You were walking home from a night out drinking with your uni buddies, when you heard the incessant meowing. 

It drew you in like a siren’s call. If the siren in question had the vocal prowess of a warbling whale on the brink of death.

Upon closer inspection, the grimy fluffball revealed a stubby, crooked tail and wide, beady eyes. In your alcohol-fueled haze, you briefly wondered if you were staring at a tiny ginger rat.

“Well, it’s definitely all cat,” your friend Bee declared by noon the following day, calmly retracting a scratched and bloodied hand from the disgruntled feline, which promptly hissed and darted right back under the bed.

You hummed in agreement, passing her a wad of tissue. 

"I couldn’t decide between Nospurratu and Catpin Meow," you say matter-of-factly, giving your capricious son a scritch under his chin. "Bee suggested I stick to something simpler, like Maru. Hence the name."

Your explanation is punctuated by an offended nip on your pointer finger. 

Sylus is covering his mouth, but nods solemnly. “I think Maru is a nice name.” 

There’s a moment where the two seem locked in a silent standoff, neither breaking eye contact nor making any sort of outward reaction. Just as you’re about to step in and interrupt the bizarre staring contest, Maru gives a slow, deliberate blink.

Sylus takes it as a sign of victory—or perhaps a ceremonial seal of approval.

 With a faint smirk on his lips, he offers the cat a small bow in respect.

––––

You’ve practically emptied the entire arcade of plushies – enough to put it out of business if it were actually, you know, real – and you’re bored to tears. 

“Another round of Kitty Cards, perhaps?” Sylus suggests, but a single glance at your face is enough to let him know that you’d rather gnaw off your own hand. Or his. He might just let you.

Sighing dramatically, you complain about the limited playability of the “mini-games” in-game.

“There’s literally nothing else to do. Same old shit, over and over again.” There’s a pout on your face that Sylus wants to nibble on, not that you’re aware of the forming thoughts in his head. “No new banners. I’m stuck between Kitty Cards and the claw machines... I’m bored, Syyyyy,” you whine, stretching the last syllable for effect.  

To be fair, he has tried to make it a bit more challenging for you. He stopped fucking around during Kitty Cards – no more extra two cards in exchange for one of yours, no longer placing different colored kitties deliberately in the wrong cups. 

After six straight losses, your frustration is palpable. The fun is gone.

He makes audible commentaries during each of your six tries at the claw machine. Every time you manage to snag a plushie, he praises you for a job well done (It flusters you, not that he needs to know that). When your luck runs out and you grab onto nothing but air, he wryly points it out through some slight ribbing, but nothing that’s actually hurtful (This flusters you too—again, not that he needs to know any of this).   

There’s nothing else to do. It’s like you’ve exhausted all you could in this small, curated window of his that you’re privy to. If only there’s a way to leave the mini-games behind, to do something new, perhaps outside of what the game has to offer…

Oh, wait. 

“Hey, Sy,” you call the man to attention. “Wanna try something out?” 

-

-

You beat him at Words with Friends by a small margin.

“Ha! That’s thirty-nine points, buddy.” You crow proudly, after putting down Devotees in a straight column.

He eviscerates you at Zynga Poker. 

“... How are you so good at this??” 

“Comes with the package, sweetie,” he says with faux-modesty after revealing (yet another!!) full house, winking like he hasn’t just wiped the floor with you.

By the end of it, both of you are in high spirits—except, maybe, for your bruised ego.

––––

“Say my name, say my name… If no one is around you, say baby I love you…”

“It’s nice to know that we have another thing in common, little dove.”

 

It takes you a moment to process what he’s implying. 

You stop singing, affronted. “Wh—how dare you.” 

––––

“Are you having fun?” Sylus asks, his tone droll as he stands there, hands on his hips and a small scowl on his face. You’re too busy spinning him around, thoroughly entertained by the number of outfits and accessories you’ve forced upon your slightly reluctant model in the photoshoot that's currently taking place.

It’s more amusing, knowing that he’s fully-aware of what’s happening. And that you know he’s aware of what’s happening. 

He’s like your personal, sentient Ken doll; if Ken had ashy grey hair, red eyes, and a mercurial attitude.

“I am, actually,” you shoot back, grinning as you plop a tomato stuffie on top of his head. “Look, you two match!” 

He exhales a long-suffering sigh, shaking his head in mock exasperation.

Not that it stops you. Fluffy bunny ears, a fish headband, an uncharacteristic halo—you’re relentless. “Hey, can you try a different pose?”

“That depends on the pose… and how nicely you ask.”

“Dear Sylus,” you sing, jutting your bottom lip forward and fluttering your eyelashes exaggeratedly, “could you please, pretty please, flip the camera off?”

He snorts but obliges, raising his hand to deliver the most effortlessly cool middle finger you’ve ever seen. “Happy?”

Woah. That’s… hot. “Oh! Uh. Yeah. Yeah, that’s—”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your reaction. You giggle nervously. “You look… hot.”

“Mm?” His smirk grows, teasing and predatory. “What was that?”

“Nothing!” you blurt out, but the pinking of your cheeks betrays you. He’s definitely enjoying this now.

“I could be convinced to do another one,” he murmurs, voice pitching a little lower.

You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting the urge to say the first thing that comes to mind. Stop, you whore. 

Your nerves get the best of you. Without thinking, you switch to putting the MC back on screen. 

Sylus blinks, red eyes narrowing as he looks at you, perplexed. 

“Uh,” you shift your gaze between her frozen stance and his idle figure. The sudden silence hangs a little heavy in the air. “Would–would you like to do poses? With her?”

He opens his mouth, an automatic response—but he stops, expression flickering into something unreadable. Confusion? Hesitation? 

His brows knit together, and for a short while, he just studies you, the space between you thick with unspoken questions. 

“Do you want me to?” he asks finally, his voice quieter, almost careful.

No–I don’t want you to— To pose with someone who looks so-–

perfectperfectperfect by your side—I only want to see you—

I want to see you––

Why do I care–?

I don’t care––I care, I care so much–– 

“Why not?” you choke out, the forced cheer in your voice grating even to your own ears. You shrug, nonchalant in all the ways you’re not. “I’ll dress her up real nice, and then—” You slap a pink bow onto his head. “You can try to keep up.” 

He doesn’t move, not paying the offending accessory any attention. His gaze is solely locked onto yours. 

I don’t care. I don’t. 

You take the first shot. 

____

“What’s the song you’re playing?”

You pause mid-mop, cocking your head to the side in slight surprise. 

“Uhh– Pedestal,” you answer unsurely. “By Portishead. You like it?” 

He hums, eyes glinting with interest. “I do. Play the rest.” 

And just like that, you’re introducing Sylus to modern twenty-first century music—and to Spotify.

____

From that point on, Sylus begins using your Spotify account to discover a whole new world of music—quite literally, in his case. Sometimes he steals the control from you, overriding what you’re currently listening to, just to hear the most random track play from your speakers.

In the middle of a mundane afternoon while you're completely locked in at work—hyperpop synths blaring in your ears—you’re suddenly jolted by the sound of heavy mandolins as an honest-to-god Russian military march blasts through your headphones, shattering your focus like a damn rhino in a china shop. 

And so with the level of patience that could put the Virgin Mary to shame, you painstakingly explain to your friend the courtesy of not stealing the proverbial AUX cord from the “driver,” especially when it’s their turn on the radio. 

The two of you reach a compromise, and thus the birth of your “shared” playlist. Sylus reluctantly agrees to explore on his own time—when you’re not using the app. Like when you’re busy with other things. Or when you're asleep. 

-

-

-

You wake up to the first strings of a Muse song. One of your favorites, in fact. 

Sy-Sy (??): Good morning, sweetie. 

Sy-Sy (??): Last night was enlightening. I have you to thank for that.

Sy-Sy (??): Oh, and I hope you could indulge me. I added some songs to our playlist. I think youll like them. We both seem to have a thing for alt-rock.

Sy-Sy (??): Give me time and Im sure Ill acquire a taste for electronic music too. Be patient. 

You huff out a laugh, lazily rolling over as you check your shared playlist. Sure enough, there’s twelve new songs on it.   

You: awe that’s great sy :)) and these songz r rly good !! u got sum of my faves here

You: based on what u like maybe u can try looking up sum david bowie, probz massive attack idk 

You: i’ll add stuff later for u to listen 2!!! <2

You: <3* 

Sy-Sy (??): Alright, sweetheart. Im looking forward to it. 

Sy-Sy (??): ♥️

____

From the outside, the studio is just another unit among endless rows of dull grey—small and unassuming. Tucked away on the sixth floor of a nondescript building, it’s built as unremarkable as the rest.

Through a window stained with a mix of corrosive ochre and burnt sienna, there’s a quiet hum; the presence of something that wasn’t there a week ago. Life has shifted, ever so subtly, from an oppressive achroma to a much warmer vibrancy.  

There’s a faint hint of movement. Inside, the young woman wears an almost-permanent smile, her phone an extension of her hand as she taps away with no semblance of rhyme nor rhythm—only in a continuous staccato. Her eyes are locked on the screen, as if drawn by an invisible force.

It’s elusive; this connection. Something beyond. Supranatural. It weaves through the room like whispered secrets shared in the dead of the night, beneath a city blanketed in deep ultramarine. Soft, like a wind brushing through a still everglade. 

The apartment, once steeped in a self-inflicted solitude – one that went by unnoticed for a long period of time – comes alive as an intangible presence fills its nooks and crannies with the steady warmth of companionship. There’s a gentle heat to the space now, like the glow of an invisible hearth. 

The flickering of the string lights, the muted laughter shared with a voice through the tinny speakers of a handheld device, a slight signal interference… all feel like the genesis of an impossible story.

Outside, the evening sky is fading into twilight.

And as one looks out onto the street below from the sixth floor window, it’s almost as if the world outside doesn’t quite matter anymore. 

Inside, the air is full of life, in ways it has never been. 

____

“Come to me, just in a dream

Come on and rescue me

Yes, I know I can be wrong

And maybe you’re too headstrong

Our love is––”

Tagging: @xxfaithlynxx @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @yournextdoorhousewitch @sunsethw4 @stxrrielle @mangooes @hrts4hanniehae @buggs-1 @michiluvddr @ssetsuka @i2sannie @imm0rtalbutterfly @the-golden-jhope @slyfoxtsu @beomluvrr @milkandstarlight @bookfreakk @ally-the-artistic-turtle @tinyweebsstuff @sapphic-daze @sarahthemage @cchiiwinkle @madam8 @slownoise @raendarkfaerie @sylusdarling @luminaaaz @greeenbeean

(if..... for some damn reason..... the tags still don't work i rly don't know what i'm doing wrong T_T i'm posting this from a macbook is that it, is the ghost of steve jobs fucking with me rn)

[samkerrworshipper]

so win.

alexia putellas x reader

no fuel quite like my procrastination to not do other things i need to do. this is porn without plot, i’m not ashamed of it. it’s also unedited and has been worked on after a day of clinicals so if there are spelling mistakes and grammar mistakes i apologise. i wrote this in like 3 hours lol. i’m also a mess at the moment and actually avoiding my whole life so this is my outlet. anyways i wrote smut! for the first time in forever ;) also for the sake of this let’s ignore timezones bcus i couldn’t rewrite the start of this to make it work lol.

warnings: smut, 18+ viewer discretion advised

You’re not with Alexia when the campaign drops. You’re not even watching the game, you’ve never been quite able to wrap your head around the nfl thing or get into like your girlfriend, the rules of rugby have been so ingrained in your mind from childhood that seeing men run around in massive pads just gives you an ick.

You’re not even the person who sees it first, you’re sitting in a cafe trying to get some studying done because it’s impossible to do at home when your clingy girlfriend insists on sitting, holding, grabbing or clinging onto any part of your body when she’s bored. It’s like trying to keep a five year old entertained, and it always ends up with you sacrificing whatever coursework you have and being endlessly stressed when you fall behind. You simply leave studying for when Alexia is out of the house or when you have time to study elsewhere.

You’re heavily engrossed in rewatching a lecture you’d missed the previous week due to training when your phone lights up. It’s no exaggeration, your phone screen goes from being blank and dark to suddenly notification after notification pouring in. Different groupchats, instagram tags, text messages. There’s another ten minutes left on your study clock before you’re technically allowed to take a break but with every thing that pops up your only become more curious. Curious enough that you look down at your clock with complete disregard and reach for your phone. It’s sitting next to your laptop, it’s supposed to be upside down to minimise distraction but when you were watching the lecture it stopped you from being able to check the time and you liked to watch as the time ticked by.

You click onto you groupchat first, a mixture of Barca girls, mostly the older ones. Most importantly Mapi, who has bombarded the groupchat in a matter of seconds, with image after image of your girlfriend.

You click onto them harmlessly, Alexia has a series of campaigns that you’re aware of that are coming out in the next few months. As you’re waiting for the images to load you try and remember if she’d told you about any coming up, there was something for Cupra at the end of february and a big campaign for more than eleven in march, and a few smaller things amongst it but nothing you could think of that was due to release today, or in the next week.

When the first image loads, you’re eyes almost bug out. Your throat closes, the oxygen leaves your lungs and you feel almost dizzy. You have to blink multiple times to clarify that what you’re looking at is real, it’s not just a hallucination of some wet dream you’ve had, it’s a real photo that exists in front of you. As you flick through them, you only feel more unwell, and a little bit wet… or a lot.

The first one is just Alexia’s face, staring straight down the lense. The way she’s been captured is almost animalistic, pink sports bra, big earrings, her hair in the wet look. It’s her eyes though, pointed straight on, the eye fuck look, like she’s staring into your soul the same way she does before she’s about to rail you, except it’s all magically been captured in one photo. You want to look at it forever, you’re scared you’ve actually lost the ability to use your extremities and all the oxygen has stopped circulating inside your body from the mix of shock and awe.

With as much power you have you flick to the next photo, and if you were already feeling unwell this feeling is close to death.

Alexia, looking over her shoulder, flexing.

All of her tattoos are on show, every single muscle is accentuated and you almost drool on your phone as you study all of the different parts of the picture. Alexia’s skin is literally glowing, effervescently in a way you cannot even begin to describe. You know from thousands of hours of tracing the skin of your girlfriends back just how strong she is, yet with everything emphasised more in the photo you feel like no matter how many hours you’ve spent staring this is adding a whole new perspective. Her arms, her facial expressions, the illusion of her hair sticking to her skin, the pink contrast against her skin.

You have to scroll, because if you don’t you won’t be responsible for the actions you engage in whilst in a very public space.

The following few pictures are of other athletes, basketball players, gymnasts, runners, other football players. For the most part, americans, yet your girlfriend in all her glory is a part of it.

You get through quite a few photos before it comes to the video, you were already gobsmacked, but the video seals it for you.

Alexia looks flawless, absolutely ethereal in every way. It actually feels like you are living in one of your fantasies or dreams but no this is very much real life and you are actually dating the person on your screen.

There’s no chance you’re going to get any work done, you can’t even get a coherent thought that doesn’t involve Alexia. Alexia’s abs, Alexia’s back, Alexia’s eyes, Alexia’s face, Alexia. You pack up your books and laptop with one thought on your mind, seeing your girlfriend.

Mapi’s private messages to you are filthy, message after message of her reminding your of what is now out in the world and about how now even more people are going to be even more obsessed with her.

You drive home over the speed limit and slightly recklessly, it’s not a long drive from your favourite study spot to you and Alexia’s shared house, but it feels like it drags on for forever. Your knuckles are white from your tight grip on the steering wheel and your unoccupied foot is bounding furiously against your floormat. You run a couple of close yellows, which are mostly red and have a complete disregard for giving way to anybody. You have an end goal, and that goal is to get home before you combust from all of the built up energy and tension in your body from the reruns of the pictures you’d seen.

You’re not even sure if you put the car in park when you swing into the driveway, you practically sprint towards the door, leaving Alexia’s prized cupra to fend for itself. Your hand is so sweaty you struggle with the door knob for a few seconds, your brain is frantic and you struggle and jiggle with it until it finally turns and there is nothing between you and finding exactly what you’re looking for.

Alexia isn’t in the front room, not that she normally would be. You pace your way through the hallway, past your bedroom which seems unoccupied and into the living room.

Alexia.

Alexia is sitting, on your couch, trying to look as nonchalant as possible, though it’s hard to appreciate it with the shit eating grin on her face as she tries to make herself look comfortable and like she’s actually lounging on your couch. Her body is tense, it gives away her whole bravado, you don’t really care though.

“You’re home early? You said you wouldn’t be back till lunch time, no?”

There is no acknowledging of her comment, you take your jacket off and lay it on the edge of the couch before unceremoniously pouncing on your girlfriend.

“I cannot believe you.”

Alexia makes it easy enough for you to straddle her lap, opening up her legs and making plenty of room for you.

You stare into her eyes and all you can picture is the photo of her, the look on her face isn’t dissimilar to the one captured, but it’s not quite the same.

“The campaign? Did I not mention it?”

You roll your eyes before leaning down, alexia goes with ease, her mouth opening up for you as soon as your lips meet hers. It’s all teeth and tongue, not quite a fight for dominance, just pure arousal.

“You’re a brat, and really fucking sexy.”

Alexia smirks against your lips, and then she bites back, her tongue fighting against yours.

“So you like it?”

You move your lips to Alexia’s neck, licking a line down her neck and kissing up it before biting down, foregoing any kind of gentle.

“Do I like my girlfriend looking extremely fuckable on the internet? Jury’s still out on that one.”

Alexia chuckles, leaning her head back to give you full access to her neck.

“Mm, muy fuckable.”

The laugh that leaves her mouth is enough fuel for you to nip her again, sucking a mark right above her collar bone, not directly visible but enough to make her sweat about keeping it hidden at training tomorrow.

“I’m going to need a private show in that outfit at some stage.”

You move back up to Alexia’s mouth, this time the make out is less frantic, you’ve gotten out some of your residual jitters.

“That can always be arranged.”

You tug at the hem of Alexia’s sleep shirt that she still hasn’t gotten out of yet.

“Bed first, fashion show after.”

In the swiftest motion possible Alexia is bringing herself up onto her feet, and lifting you with her. You wrap your legs around her torso, never breaking the makeout.

She makes it to your bedroom at a record speed, dumping you onto the mattress before climbing back on top of you, her shirt being thrown haphazardly into the air somewhere as she lowers herself down. There’s no bra to fight with and you reach for her breasts before her lips are back on you, grabbing and rolling at her nipples until she gets the message and has climbed fully onto the mattress on top of you.

Alexia stays on top of you, making out for a while, until she get’s bored with her hands and decides that you need to mirror her level of undressed. She flips you on top with so much ease that it doesn’t even surprise you, the photos on the internet showed Alexia’s muscles, but they didn’t show just how strong your girlfriend truly was.

Alexia didn’t mess around with your tank top and bra, tugging them off with the same kind of urgency that you’d been in to get back to the house earlier. As soon as the clothes are gone you’re flipped back onto the mattress, Alexia retaking her position. Her hands go straight to your tits, pinching and pulling in a way that makes your back nearly arch off the bed. You’re already aroused from your session in the coffee shop, but this is only adding fuel to the fire.

It takes everything in you not to moan immediately, you clench your jaw and bite your lip as Alexia elicits all different kinds of sensations.

‘Sé ruidoso bebita.”

As per usual, not much gets past Alexia, you try to relax just slightly, let yourself feel it all completely.

“How wet are you going to be when I finally touch your pussy, hm? How wet did my photos get you? All hot and bothered in the coffee shop like a little slut.”

There is no point in shaking your head, you just smirk, you’re proud of it, you’re proud that you get to come home to this and everyone else just has to enjoy Alexia from a far.

“Show me, reach into your panties and show me how wet you are and maybe I’ll think about touching you.”

You hesitate for a second, but then Alexia pinches on of your nipples and rolls your other breast in her hand and your hand naturally moves downwards, your hips canting up as you do so.

Your fingertips are glistening and dripping as you bring them out of your shorts, Alexia doesn’t hesitate to pull them straight into her mouth, sucking all of your arousal straight off.

“Alexia, please.”

Alexia licks her lips in a way that makes you so certain that she’s desperate for more, she’s just as turned on about this as you are.

“Pants off.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth your reaching for them hem of your pants and kicking them off, your panties go with them.

Alexia doesn’t wait, she moves her body downwards until her mouth is hovering right above you.

She looks up at you, hesitates for a second, it’s the exact same face as the photo, beautifully feral.

She doesn’t hold back whatsoever, her mouth goes straight to your clit and you’re already aroused, already dripping everywhere but you reach another level. Your moans are breathy and free falling.

“Fuck baby, feels so good.”

You’re a stuttering mess and far too aroused to try and pretend like you aren’t already close.

Alexia keeps a steady pace, licking and sucking at your clit and occasionally living long strips up from your pussy. It feels so good, earth shattering good.

“Ale, close.”

You expect her to pull back a little bit, normally she likes to prolong your pleasure just a little bit, the wait is worth the reward. But it seems like the both of you are too aroused to ignore the urgency of the situation. Alexia doubles down, her arms pushing your thighs further apart and reaching up behind you to grab at your ass whilst she enjoys having more access.

When you realise she isn’t going to let up you unclench your hands from the sheets and push them into Alexia’s hair, grabbing at the root and pushing her exactly where you want, grinding down against her chin.

It doesn’t take long at all, alread close as it was. Then Alexia grazes her teeth over your clit and doubles down and you see stars. Your body goes with you, shaking and tensing before relaxing as your enjoy the aftershocks. Alexia takes the opportunity, pushing two fingers into you and setting a brutal pace.

“Alexia, need a second.”

Alexia doesn’t stop, if anything she only goes harder, her fingers searching for your g-spot and finding it with ease. The overstimulation makes your stomach tight and yoru clit ache, in the best way.

“Una mas.”

You shake your head, even though it’s blatantly clear you’re going to give her another one, there isn’t really a world where you wouldn’t, not when Alexia makes it so easy to feel so good.

“You can give me one more bebita.”

Alexia’s palm grinds against your clit gloriously, it’s a bit too much for a few seconds but it fades as the pleasure overtakes.

Alexia’s favourite activity is amking you fall apart, watching you experience a kind of pleasure that is unmatchable, all at her own hands. Alexia adds a third finger, knowing that it’ll give you what you need.

It’s more than enough for what you need to reach a release. This time the initial orgasm lasts longer, you tense for a few seconds before you go boneless on the mattress. You melt into the sheets, your head lulling against the pillow as you breathe your way through.

Once you’ve stopped clenching against Alexia she pulls her fingers out, licking up every part of your orgasm, not leaving a single drop behind.

She crawls her way up to you, lying down on her side next to you, looking at the blissed out expression on your face.

Your eyes open lazily, a big smile on your face.

“You’re unreal, literally, how did I get this lucky?”

Alexia leans in, it would be rude to not kiss your lips at every possible chance, especially when your smiling at her like that.

“The real question is how I got this lucky.”

It the same kind of phrase that would elicit vomiting noises from your teammates in the locker room, and yet you love it all the same.

The kiss is soft, everything you need in the moment. It gives you enough confidence to reach your hands down inbetween the two of you, pressing down against Alexia’s front with one intention.

Alexia gasps into your mouth, and it’s enough guidance for you.

You walk your fingers up to the waistband of her pyjama shorts that she still hasn’t changed out of at nearly midday. You trail them down on the inside, unsurprised at her lack of underwear.

Alexia’s wet, the cotton of her shorts sticking to the insides of her thighs.

You part her folds, enjoying the way she moans and gasps into your mouth as you map your way through a different part of her body.

When your fingers find her clit, it’s easy to tell just how turned on she is.

You set a pace of fast tight circles, you’re well educated on Alexia’s body and when she’s this worked up this is the best way to get her to an orgasm.

You know she’s getting closer when her kisses get sloppier and desperate, her lips hang onto yours like they’re becoming an extension of her, like she’s scared that if you separate it’ll take part of her with her.

She shakes and grinds into you, searching for that last bit of stimulation she needs. When she infds it she groans into your mouth, her hips jerking one final time before they go weak, her body goes still for a few seconds. You slow down but don’t come to a full stop, pulling every last bit of her orgasm out for her until she’s tugging your hand out of her shorts.

Alexia presses some soft kisses to your lips before pulling you into her with one arm.

“If that’s what I get every time I take some nice pictures, maybe I should do it a bit more. See if I can get a job with Victoria’s secret or a swimsuit company.”

Alexia doesn’t need to see the look on your face to know exactly how all of your features would clenhc up and your eyes would roll.

“If you do that there will be a whole lot less sex for you and a whole lot more sessions with my vibrator for me. You’re cute, but I’d like to keep some of it for me.”

Alexia snorts, before tugging you in tighter.

“The fans would like it so much though, maybe I should just post some of the photos from the beach over the summer in Ibiza, the topless ones were cute.”

You elbow Alexia straight in the gut.

“How about you model the nike outfits for me first, and then we can decide how far you can take your new found modelling career.”

You’re still in slight disbelief that Alexia managed to keep something this big from you. She was obviously always having ongoing things going with nike, but something this big, and this special was hard to keep underwraps.

“I looked that good, huh?”

You roll even further into Alexia, pressing your whole body into hers.

“Muy bueno. New additions to the wank bank right there.”

You snort when you look over your shoulder and see the confusion on Alexia’s face, her english is good, but her english slang lacks in certain departments.

“Wank bank?”

You snort again, the innocence behind her voice makes it so much better.

“Just my folder for when I’m very alone on camp, and need some extra assistance.”

Alexia’s brain clicks, she laughs, and then the meaning must click in because she blushes beet red.

You stand up, already searching for your forgotten articles of clothing.

“Wait a minute, wank bank? What else is in this folder?”

You’re already tugging your pants on and trying to find your tank top which had apparently vanished into thin air.

“Hopefully whatever new photos I can find in the album of spares that was left over from this shoot.”

Before you can hear what else Alexia says you’re racing off in search of her laptop.

“Wait, I need to see this folder. Bebita, I need my own folder. WHAT IS IN THIS FOLDER.”

—————-

anyways have a wonderful day/night! i love you! somebody out there loves you! you are blessed to have this day and every other one to come <3