#noeul

“You’re so hot…”

You giggled and pushed playfully at the woman pressed against you. She was a little bit older, somewhere in her late twenties or early thirties you assumed and way too pretty to be in the trashy bar bathroom she was making out with you in. 

“Thank you,” you responded, pulling back to look at Noeul. Your lipstick was smudged all over her mouth and her pupils were blown wide. “You’re not the worst I’ve done for a dive bar bathroom.” 

She scoffed and nipped at your jaw, leaving the millionth pink little mark on your skin. “Shut up,” she muttered, shoving you up against the restroom door. You gasped at the impact before bursting out laughing. Several vodka crans had made everything funny and the world spin. “Mm, I’m sorry.” You smiled, kissing her lips again gently. “That’s no way to be talking to the nice lady who bought me drinks.” Noeul hummed and ran her tongue over your lip, her hand coming up to caress your face. 

“My, um- my car is in the parking lot,” she ventured, her mouth leaving the taste of whiskey in yours. “It’s a mess but if you wanted…” She sounded nervous and it was so attractive. An older woman who was fumbling her flirting, inviting you to her car for a drunk makeout, this was the dream. “Fuck yes,” you breathed, wriggling out of her grip. Noeul gave you a look for escaping but you just beamed at her and she rolled her eyes. “This way.” She opened the bathroom door and led you out of the bar. 

The air outside was sticky with summer, your own sweat and heady thoughts mixing into the atmosphere. Noeul’s car was way in the back of the lot, tucked under a tree. It was more like a van which you didn’t mind, it was better for heated make out sessions anyway. You slid the door open and climbed inside, Noeul right behind you. She looked around at the floor in embarrassment, like she was rethinking her offer to let someone into her vehicle. 

“Sorry about the mess,” she started, getting cut off when you kissed her. Without a second thought, you wrapped your arms around her neck and pressed your body forward until her back hit the floor. She moaned into your mouth, hands cupping your breasts before hesitating like she didn’t know what she was allowed to touch. “It’s okay,” you coaxed, guiding her hand so her palm pressed over your nipples. “I want this, want you.” Something about the way you were talking to her, helping her learn your body made Noeul soaked. She sat up and pulled you closer, your hips firmly on top of hers. Her body was warm and strong and her skin was soft and her hair was sleek and she was looking at you like you hung the moon. 

You tried to say something, tried to tell her how pretty she was, beyond pretty but your brain wouldn’t work. All you could say were dumb things like “Please kiss me.” God, that sounded pathetic. But it was worth being pathetic when you had Noeul kissing you. Her lips devouring yours, tongue claiming your mouth like you were meant to be hers. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” she panted, coming up for air. Her hand dropped to your thigh to push up the dress you were wearing. 

The fabric stretched over your skin, reaching up your hips and settled around your waist. Noeul stared for a moment at the bow on your panties before her eyes focused on the wet patch that had formed from your arousal. Your breathing came in soft little gasps as you mouthed at her neck. “Are you just gonna stare or?” She shook her head, her eyes moving back up to meet yours. “N-no, sorry, just uhm…I don’t normally have sex with women so.” That made sense, given the flirting, the shyness, the fumbling. 

“Ah, well, that’s okay,” you smiled, pulling her arms around your body. “Just touch me how you would touch yourself, yeah?” She nodded and took one hand back to slip her fingers into your underwear. Her digits pulled the cloth aside and that look took over her eyes again, the blank little stare that told you she was so painfully inexperienced. You shimmied your way out of them, tossing them somewhere in the front of her car for her to find in the morning and remember you by. Noeul’s tongue continued to slide against your messily, not really heaving any certain rhythm to the way that she kissed you. Her hand was back between your thighs now, fingers spread your folds and prodding gently at your entrance. You whimpered when the first one slipped in, your nails digging into her shoulders. 

“Good?” she asked, caressing your cheek with her free hand. “Yes,” you breathed. “Another, please.” Noeul pumped her first finger slowly a few times, letting you get used to the slight stretch of her before adding her middle. She curled them carefully, watching your face for any signs of discomfort. Your head tipped back, soft little gasps leaving your lips as the squelching sound of her fingering you filled the car. It didn’t take long for her to find a rhythm; once she got settled you could tell that she knew what she was doing, at least to some extent. 

She liked to stare, particularly at your face. It was a little creepy in the dark of the parking lot, but the look in her eyes told you she was consumed entirely by the idea of pleasing you. Her eyes were these never ending pools, something you could lose yourself in forever. She leaned closer, dragging her lips over the soft skin of your neck and breathing in deeply. Should you be freaked out that this woman was staring at you and smelling you like you were a piece of meat? Maybe. Were you also totally turned on by it? Yeah. 

“You smell so good,” she moaned into your hair, her hips moving against your thigh. “And you’re so pretty, have I told you how pretty you are?” Noeul was straddling your leg now, rocking back and forth to try and sooth her aching clit in her underwear. “Not enough,” you replied, half joking until she started giving you more and more complements. “These are perfect,” she muttered, reaching a hand up your shirt to grasp at your tits. “So’s your waist and your thighs, fuck, it’s like I’m dreaming all of this.”

Her fingers pulled out before thrusting back in again, searching for the spot inside of you that would make you cum. She knew she had found it when you started mewling like she was doing something revolutionary. “Noeul- Noeul, oh god,” you pleaded, grasping onto her wrist. “Keep doing that, it feels so good.” Her eyes lit up at the sight of you begging for her and she aimed her fingers for your sweet spot once more. While her hand worked between her thighs, her mouth crashed onto yours again, stealing the air from your lungs. Despite not having sex with women, Noeul was a good kisser. It had nothing to do with her previous lesbian experiences of course, it was just something you noticed, it was hard not to when her tongue was in your mouth. 

You couldn’t help taking your own hand and pushing up her shirt, the woman might be flat chested but when has that ever stopped a real boob lover? Her lips traveled to your neck, pressing kisses to your collarbone and sinking teeth into soft skin. Your head tipped back to give her better access to your body and she accepted without a second thought. It came so naturally to her, like a sixth sense of how to please you. 

The real surprise, though, was how quickly she found your clit. Maybe it wasn’t the speed at which she found it, but rather what she was doing to it. Her nails were kept short but the texture was so much smoother than that of her skin. She dragged her thumbnail up and over your clit before running the pad of her thumb back over your sensitive bud. Her own throbbed, begging for attention. The breath leaving her was steadily getting more and more labored against your neck like she wanted to tell you something but couldn’t find the words. Noticing her behavior, your palm flattened against her stomach, starting to slide down. “Is this what you want?” you whispered, looking into the depths of Noeul’s eyes. She nodded rapidly, pushing your hand down further with the hand that wasn’t inside you.

As you dipped your fingers into her underwear, you could feel hers curling inside you again, hitting your g-spot just to feel you clamp down around her. Your own fingertips brushed over her clit for the first time and she moaned loudly, hips jerking forward instantly. You smiled gently, pressing down a little harder as she grinded on your hand. “You wanna cum together?” you asked, trying not to blow your composure. “Yes,” Noeul breathed excitedly, starting to paw at your top. “This needs to come off, though, I need to be close to you.” Taking your hand out of her pants, you pulled your shirt over your head and unclipped your bra. The other woman was basically salivating now, openly ogling your tits. “They’re just boobs,” you laughed airily, cupping the back of her neck. “You forget I don’t see boobs often,” she responded, reaching up to grope you gently. “Take mine off?” 

You obeyed, unbuttoning her blouse and helping her shrug it off. You whimpered at the loss of her fingers in you but you ignored it in favor of more skin to skin. Noeul’s bra was the next to go, allowing you to finally see her breasts. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t inside you anymore, it didn’t matter if you lost your orgasm, all that mattered was this gorgeous woman who wanted to kiss you. And that’s exactly what she did. After a moment of admiring each other and trying to catch your breath, your mouths crashed together, passionate, hot, and completely absorbed in each other. Her tongue dipped into your mouth, sliding over your bottom lip as she buried her hands in your hair. 

You leaned back, pulling away only to look behind you to make sure you weren’t hitting anything. She pushed you back against the floor of her van and pressed her body on yours. Both of you were trying to be as close as possible, sweat and slick and your perfume and her spit. Her head dipped down, making a path down your neck for the thousandth time that night until she reached your chest. Her lips wrapped around one of your nipples, starting to suck gently while her hand reached up to tweak the other one. You let out a soft sigh, arching up into her. Slotting your leg back between her thighs, you pulled her leg between yours as well. 

Her body rolled against yours, humping your leg eagerly. “Fuck, okay,” you started, putting your hand back in her panties. “‘M gonna be close soon, you too?” She nodded, moaning around your breasts. She followed your motion, putting her hand up your skirt to play with your clit. “Just rub circles.” A shudder racked your body, as you felt her heed your plea, dragging her thumb in circles around it painstakingly slowly. Your own fingers worked over hers as well, middle and index running through her folds. Cunt clenching around nothing, you pulled Noeul face back up to yours and kissed her again. Everything was getting a lot more desperate, with your orgasm building quickly in your stomach, it was like you were trying to cram as much pleasure into your time before you climaxed. Her fingers slipped back in you and you gasped, whimpering against her lips. 

She curled them carefully, pressing your sweet spot with her fingertips. You could feel yourself slipping, unable to hold off your peak. You started to rub Noeul’s clit faster, rolling it between your fingers and dipping your others in her entrance. She pulled back from kissing to go back to staring, watching your face twist in pleasure as her own features twitched and morphed. Her lip was caught between her teeth and her eyes were filled with obsession. Just as you felt your orgasm about to hit, she leaned into your ear and whispered “Go on, all over my hand, pretty thing.” 

Your pussy spasmed, orgasm slamming into you so hard it forced you to arch into her involuntarily. Your fingers stilled on her clit, brain too hazy with lust to do anything, but not before you felt her tense up and then go limp, signaling her own climax. Her breathing synced with yours, panting as you laid there, limbs tangled together in a heap. Noeul lifted her head from where it had fallen on your shoulder and reached up to brush the hair that had stuck to your forehead out of the way. “That was good,” she said, almost sounding like she was in disbelief. “I’ve never felt this way with someone before.” You smiled, stroking her back and tracing the valleys of her skin. “As in an orgasm or something else?”

“Both,” she admitted, cupping your cheek. “I don’t really know how to explain it but this might have been the best sex of my life and I kinda regret that it was in the back of my car.” This time you laughed, kissing her forehead as you explained: “That might be what’s called post nut clarity.” Her nose wrinkled at the crudeness which only made you continue to snicker. “Whatever it is,” she started, moving past your immaturity, “It makes me think that we should do this again, preferably in a bed.” 

“Yeah,” you agreed. “I’d like that.”

A/N: Yes, this was originally supposed to be oral, but I changed it to lean into the slightly weird and submissive angle. Also, even though it's off the color scheme I love the picture of her in the header she looks so good...

Credit to @issysh3ll for the divider

The restaurant was cozy, low lights, soft music, but the corner booth felt like a trap. Noeul sat across from you, but her knees brushed yours under the table. She wore her usual oversized sweater, the one that reeked of cedar and vanilla, and her scent already clung to you from the car ride over. She ordered for the both of you, your favorite pasta with extra sauce, because she knew. She always knew.

Then the drinks arrived. A black coffee for her, bitter and plain. A fruity mocktail for you, sweet and innocent. She slid your glass closer, fingers grazing yours. “Drink up, baby. You seem tense.”

When you took a sip, it tasted sweeter than usual, a cloying edge sticking to your tongue. You grimaced, but Noeul kept watch, so you drank again.

Fifteen minutes later the heat crept in. A slow, prickling flush rose up your chest and settled heavy between your thighs. Your skin felt too sensitive, every nerve laid bare. You shifted in your seat, and your thighs clenched without permission.

Noeul noticed immediately. Her eyes darkened, a predatory gleam flickering as she leaned back and sipped her coffee slowly. “Something wrong, love?”

You shook your head, but your voice came out breathy. “I feel… weird.”

“Weird how?” She tilted her head, all feigned concern. “Hot? Achy?… Wet?”

Your face burned. You glanced around - the restaurant was half full of people laughing and clinking glasses, but no one was looking at your booth. Yet.

Under the table, Noeul’s foot gently nudged yours before sliding higher. The toe of her boot traced the inside of your calf.

“Tell me what you want.” She whispered.

You swallowed. Your mouth was dry even though you’d just been drinking. “I need… I need to leave.”

“Mm. Beg a little prettier.”

The aphrodisiac - because what else could it be? - only hit harder then. Your nipples tightened against the thin fabric of your dress, embarrassingly obvious. Your panties were soaked, the slightest shift dragging friction that made you whimper under your breath. Every glance from the waiter, every laugh from nearby tables, felt like eyes crawling over your flushed, unraveling body.

Noeul just laughed at you, low and cruel.

“Look at you, baby. Falling apart in public. Is it that bad already?” Her foot slid up your calf beneath the table, then pressed between your knees to force them apart. “Spread for me. Good girl.”

You obeyed before you could think, thighs parting as her boot nudged higher. The pressure against your inner thigh was torture. Close, but never enough. “Noeul… please.”

“Please what?” She twirled her fork casually, like nothing was happening. “Use your words. Or do you want everyone to hear how needy you are, my sweet little obsession?”

The word obsession hit you like a drug itself. Your pulse was thundering now, heat pooling relentlessly. You glanced around. The couple at the next table chatted obliviously, but you were sure the waiter had looked twice. “I needed to go. Take me home. Please, I can’t-”

She leaned in, voice a harsh whisper. “Beg properly. Tell me you’re mine, and maybe I’ll considered it.” Her gaze dropped to your heaving chest, then lower. “God, you’re dripping, weren’t you? I can smell it...”

Tears pricked your eyes from the overwhelming mix of humiliation and need. “I’m yours. Only yours. Please, Noeul, get me out of here. I’ll do anything.”

Her laugh turned darker, satisfied. “Anything? Remember that.” She stood abruptly, tossing more than enough cash onto the table, like money meant nothing next to owning you, and offered her hand. When you took it, she yanked you close, arm snaking around your waist in a possessive hold.

“Walk straight.” She murmured against your ear as you left. “If you stumble, everyone will know what a fucking slut you are.”

The cool night air hit your overheated skin like fire. Every step was agony, your clit throbbing with the motion, slick trailing down your thighs. Noeul’s grip tightened, fingers digging into your hip like she was branding you through fabric.

She didn’t lead you to the car. Instead she veered into the shadowed alley beside the restaurant.

“Can’t wait.” She growled, shoving you against the rough brick. The impact jarred you, but the pain twisted into the ache, dragging a broken moan from your throat.

Her hand slid under your dress immediately, fingers shoving your soaked panties aside. “Jesus, you’re a fucking mess. All because of a little drink?”

Two fingers plunged in without warning, curling deep. You cried out, and she clamped her free hand over your mouth.

“Shut it.” She hissed, eyes wild with possession. “This is mine. Your body, your pleasure, it’s mine to give or take.”

She thrust harder, thumb circling your clit without mercy. The aphrodisiac amplified everything, turning every stroke into lightning, building you toward the edge too fast.

But she stopped.

She pulled her fingers free right as you teetered, leaving you clenching around nothing. You sobbed against her palm, hips bucking desperately.

“Not yet.” She licked her fingers clean, eyes locked on yours as she savored you like a price. “You won’t come until I say. Not until you admit that you’d never look at anyone else like this, that you’d never leave me.”

“I wouldn’t!” You gasped, tears streaming. “I’m yours. Forever. Please-”

She choked you lightly then, hand around your throat as she kissed you bruisingly. “Good. Now walk.”

The trek back to your dorm was pure torment. She made you lead, shadowing you the whole way, whispering degradations. “Such a pretty wreck. Bet you’d let me fuck you right here on the sidewalk if I asked.”

By the time you stumbled through the door you were shaking, begging incoherently. Noeul locked it behind her, with the key she copied months ago, and pushed you onto the bed.

“Date night’s just getting started, baby…” She purred, stripping slowly while you writhed on the bed beneath her gaze. Her scent filled the room, thick and inescapable. “I’m going to edge you until you break. Then I’m going to fill you with the strap, breed you like I promised. And tomorrow? You’ll wake up marked, mine inside and out.”

She crawled over you, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the small folding knife she always carried. The blade flicked open with a soft click that made your breath hitch, then she used it to trace the skin of your collarbone - not cutting, just promising, watching your pulse jump underneath. “Say it again. Who did you belong to?”

“You.” You whispered, arching into her touch.

She leaned back just enough to look at you, dress clung to your sweat damp skin, chest heaving, thighs slick and trembling. Her eyes darkened further, pupils blown wide with hunger.

“Arms up.” She whispered.

You obeyed, lifting them shakily while her free hand gathered the hem of your dress. She dragged the fabric up inch by inch, exposing your thighs, your hips, your stomach. When the dress bunched around your waist she leaned back slightly, her knife glinting in the low light of your bedside lamp.

“Hold still, baby. I don’t want to ruin the dress… too much.”

She hooked the blade under the neckline and carefully sliced down the front. The fabric parted with a soft ripping sound, cool air hitting your heated skin. She kept going, cutting through the center until the dress fell open like a book, hanging off your shoulders in ruined halves.

You laid there, exposed and trembling, aphrodisiac still burning through your veins while Noeul’s gaze devoured you.

She leaned in, lips brushing your ear. “Look how beautiful you are like this. All mine to ruin.”

Her free hand slid between your thighs without preamble, two fingers plunging inside and curling deep. You moaned, hips jerking up into her touch.

Noeul pressed the flat of the knife against your throat, just enough pressure to remind you it was there, while your eyes locked with hers. Hers were dark, intense, almost reverent.

“Don’t look away.” She whispered. “I want to see every second of this.”

She fucked you slowly with her fingers, thumb circling your clit in lazy, torturous strokes. The knife never left your skin, trailing down from your throat to your collarbone, pressing just hard enough to leave faint white lines that faded almost immediately.

Your breathing came in short, desperate pants. The aphrodisiac made every sensation unbearable: the slow drag of her fingers, the cold steel against your skin, the way her eyes never left yours.

Until her gaze dropped to the knife. Slowly, she began to trail it lower, down the center of your chest, between your breasts, over your ribs, down your stomach. The blade left a thin, cool path that made you shiver violently.

She stopped just above your mound, the tip resting lightly against your skin.

You froze, breath caught in your throat.

Her voice came out soft, almost tender. “This is mine. I own you.”

She pulled her fingers out suddenly, and you whined at the loss, hips lifting instinctively and searching for friction.

“Noeul-?” Confusion laced your voice, thick and whiny with need. “What are you-?”

She didn’t answer right away. Both of you breathed heavily in the quiet room, chests rising and falling in sync. Noeul stared at the knife pressed against your skin, eyes distant… contemplative.

You shivered beneath her, every nerve screaming for release, for her, for anything.

Then, finally, she moved.

The blade pressed into your skin, sharp. You gasped at the sting as she carved a tiny, perfect ‘N’ just above your mound. You hissed at the sting, but your hips bucked up involuntarily, your traitorous body already associating the pain with her pleasure. The cut was shallow, controlled, but the sight of your own blood welling up made your head spin.

A moment later she tossed the knife aside with a dull clatter and lowered her head immediately, lips brushing the fresh mark. She kissed it softly, then dragged her tongue over the tiny beads of blood, licking them away with slow, worshipful strokes.

The copper tang mixed with the cedar vanilla scent of her hair as she nuzzled against your skin.

“Mine.” She murmured against the brand. “Forever.”

Then she moved lower.

Her hands spread your thighs wide as she settled between them, eyes flicking up to meet yours one last time, dark and possessive, yet achingly adoring.

She didn’t tease this time.

Her mouth closed over you, hot and wet relentless. She laid her tongue flat against your clit first, then switched to flicking, circling, sucking, everything she could to make you fall apart. Her fingers slid back inside, three this time, curling hard against the spot that made you weak in the knees.

You cried out, hands fisting the sheets. The aphrodisiac had you so close already, and every lick, every thrust, was pushing you higher.

She ate you like an animal, growling against your cunt, the vibrations sending shockwaves through you. All while the brand from her knife throbbed faintly, a sharp reminder of what she’d just done - what she’d just claimed.

You shattered.

Your orgasm ripped through you, back arching off the bed, a broken moan tearing from your throat. Noeul kept licking and sucking, fingers pumping through every aftershock until you were shaking and whimpering, tears streaming down your cheeks. Only then did she pull away with glistening lips, eyes glazed with sick satisfaction.

She crawled up your body, kissing the brand again, then your collarbone, your throat, your lips, letting you taste yourself on her tongue.

“Mine.” She whispered against your mouth. “I’m never letting you go.”

And you knew - this wasn’t a date. It was a claim.

︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶

Once you’re officially dating, her obsession only amplifies

She’s the type to memorize every detail of your routine, showing up “coincidentally” at your favorite spots with your preferred drink or snack in hand

It’s sweet at first, but soon you notice how she anticipates your needs before you even voice them, like having pain meds ready the day before your period starts because she’s already tracking it

Even when you’re official, she can’t resist watching you from afar

She “studies” in the library across from you, snapping sneaky photos or videos for her private collection

At night, if you’re not together, she might linger outside your window, listening to your breathing or watching your silhouette

Her phone is full of apps tracking your location, your social media, even your health data if she can access it

She’ll “surprise” you by knowing about a bad day before you tell her, having seen your stressed posts or overheard conversations

This extends to hacking into your accounts “for your safety,” even deleting messages from others and monitoring your chats

She’s hyper vigilant about anyone who gets too close to you

If a friend hugs you a second too long or a classmate flirts or teases innocently, she’ll give them a chilling stare from across the room

Later, she might “casually” mention digging into their background, and reveal embarrassing things about them

Her jealousy manifests in sabotage, like anonymously posting rumors or embarrassing photos online about potential threats

Noeul LOVES leaving her signature cedar and vanilla scent in every little corner of your life

She “borrows” your clothes to wear them briefly, then returns them infused with her cologne

Your bed, your backpack, even your lecture notes carry traces of her, a constant reminder that she’s always with you

If you’re apart for too long, she sprays her cologne on your pillows or leaves a hoodie draped over your chair

Even if you’ve only been apart for one lecture, Noeul greets you like you’ve been gone for years

She pulls you into a crushing hug the second you’re in range, burying her face in your neck and inhaling deeply

“I missed your scent,” she mumbles against your skin, “I missed your voice. I missed you…”

Then she refuses to let go for at least five full minutes, swaying gently like she’s recharging from your presence

She treats your menstrual cycle like sacred knowledge

During your period, she’s attentive with heating pads, chocolate, and gentle massages, whispering how beautiful you are even when you’re cramping

She thrives on a power imbalance, confessing bits of her past stalking to gauge your reaction and framing it as “proof of love” to normalize it

If you push back, she’ll gaslight subtly, saying you’re overreacting or that it’s mutual since you “let” her in

Deep down, she ensures you’re hooked by being the best girlfriend in public, charming and supportive, while keeping the darker side private

In the dead of night, when you’re half asleep in her arms and she’s tracing soft patterns on your skin, she speaks in the softest yet most terrifying voice

“If anyone ever tries to take you from me, I’ll make them disappear. If you ever stop loving me… I’ll make sure you remember why you started. You’re mine in this life and the next.”

Then she kisses you like it’s a seal on a contract written in blood

NSFW

In intimate moments, she’s a master of contrast

One minute she’s degrading you for being “such a needy slut” who craves her attention, the next she’s praising how perfectly you submit to her

Sex almost always starts with her watching you masturbate

Sometimes she makes you do it while she films from the corner of the room, silent and staring

Then she “can’t help herself” and joins, crawling over you, replacing your fingers with hers, or her tongue or strap

It always ends with her on top, using you until you’re oversensitive and shaking

She treats sex like documentation

She keeps a hidden folder labeled something innocuous like “notes” full of videos and photos of you mid orgasm, your thighs shaking around her strap, your neck bruised with her teeth marks

Sometimes during the act she stops just to take a close up of where she’s buried inside you, murmuring “Look how perfectly you take me… this is mine now, forever”

Afterwards she forces you to watch the footage together while she fingers you again, whispering “See? You were made for for me”

Gifts start innocent at first, like polaroids of you looking beautiful in candid moments, but they escalate quickly to more intimate items

A necklace with a hidden tracker, lingerie she “imagined” you’d look perfect in (based on photos she’s taken without your knowledge), or a bluetooth vibrator she controls via an app during class

Each gift comes with a note that’s equal parts loving and possessive, like “Mine to admire, mine to touch”

When you’re ovulating, her yandere side peaks

She’s all about breeding fantasies, using toys or straps with an intensity that borders on ritualistic

She edges you until you’re begging, then overstimulates you to “ensure” it feels real

She almost always tops when you trib/scissor

She’ll straddle your thigh, grind her soaked cunt against yours with bruising force, hands locked around your throat or digging into your hips hard enough to leave fingerprints

She loves being able to look down at you while she controls the rhythm, slow rolls turning into desperate, sloppy thrusts until you’re both dripping and trembling

Her hand around your throat is practically a love language

She squeezes just enough to make your head fuzzy, eyes locked on yours while she fingers you open or fucks you with her strap

“You’re so pathetic when you’re this wet for me… can’t even breathe right without asking permission first”

The second you start whimpering she softens the grip and kisses the marks, then chokes you again harder when you’re close

Even after the roughest sessions, aftercare with Noeul is intense

She cleans you meticulously with a warm cloth between your thighs, kissing every single bruise she left

She’ll spoon you from behind, holding you tight and close protectively, whispering “You did so good letting me ruin you… my perfect girl”

You fall asleep with her heartbeat against your back and her low murmur of “Never leaving you… ever”

Sex isn’t just physical to her, it’s ritualistic

It’s proof that you’re really hers, body and soul, down to the last trembling aftershock

And the worst (best?) part? You’re starting to need the intensity just as much as she does

︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶

Junior year, you discovered the library table on the second floor that had the perfect diagonal sightline to where Noeul always sat. You told yourself you were strictly there to study.

You were not there to study.

You were there to watch the way she tucked her hair behind her ear with the end of her pencil, or how she bit her lip when she was concentrating, or how she sometimes fell asleep on her folded arms and her eyelashes cast little shadows on her cheeks. You got approximately zero work done every time.

Noeul, meanwhile, had rerouted her entire existence around you. She took the long hallway past your locker to class even when it made her late. She started drinking strawberry milk every day because that’s what the vending machine outside the science wing sold and that’s where you inexplicably lingered every lunch period, pretending to text while your heart tried to punch through your ribcage. She began timing her water fountain visits down to the second. She was, without question, the world’s worst spy.

You both thought the other was brooding, mysterious, and devastatingly cool. You both also had seventeen tabs open about “how to tell if your crush likes you back without spontaneously combusting.”

The staring was constant. Every time your eyes met (0.2 seconds max), you both snapped away so fast it was a miracle no one got whiplash. You convinced yourself she was looking past you. She convinced herself you were looking at someone behind her. You both went home and screamed into your pillows.

One Tuesday in March, you were in class doing your usual routine: glance at Noeul → panic any time she shifted → pretend to write notes → glance again. She was sketching in her notebook, like always, tongue poking out the corner of her mouth. You were so busy swooning that you didn’t notice her look up.

Your eyes locked.

You flung your gaze down to your paper and began scribbling the word “photosynthesis” nine times in a row even though this was history, your face on fire. When you risked a peek again, she was still looking, then she wasn’t. She was suddenly very interested in her pencil case.

After the bell, both of you packed at the speed of a continental drift. You were staring at your shoes, trying to will yourself invisible, when the softest voice in the universe spoke, “Um… what was the homework again?”

When you looked up, Noeul was clutching her notebook to her chest like a shield, cheeks pink.

You stuttered out the page numbers. She nodded too fast, mumbled “thanks,” and practically sprinted away.

That night you replayed the interaction on loop until 4am. Noeul did the same. You both fell asleep smiling like losers.

The next day Noeul decided in a fit of bravery (and sleep deprivation) to smile at you in the hallway. You locked eyes for one whole second and her lips curved nervously.

Your eyes went comically wide. You immediately looked at the ceiling, the lockers, the floor - anywhere but her - and speed walked away as fast as you could, like an absolute idiot.

Noeul died a little inside. Obviously you hated her. Obviously the smile was too much. She spent the rest of the day hiding in bathroom stalls.

You on the other hand spent the rest of the day floating. She smiled at me. She smiled at me. Oh my god she smiled at me.

That’s when you decided your next move: the joint art-and-literature project. The following afternoon, your English teacher clapped her hands. “Alright, find a partner for the project. Go!”

Your stomach dropped through the floor.

This was it, the moment you spent all morning rehearsing in the bathroom mirror: casual, normal, totally not creepy. “Hey, Noeul, wanna work together?” Simple. Easy. You would not combust.

You turned around too fast, heart hammering. Noeul was staring down at her desk, fingers twisting the drawstring of her hoodie, shoulders curved inward like she was trying to disappear.

You took one step. Then another. Your knees felt like sponge cake.

“Um… hi.” You managed when you were close enough. Your voice cracked on the second syllable. Great start.

Noeul’s head snapped up. Her eyes were huge behind the fringe, dark brown and panicked. She looked like a startled deer, and it was so cute you wanted to die.

“H-hi.” She whispered back. It was so soft you almost missed it.

You both stood there. The room kept moving around you, but the two of you were frozen.

Say the thing. Say it.

“W-would you… maybe… want to-” You gestured vaguely at nothing, words failing you spectacularly.

Noeul’s cheeks went pink. Then red. Then practically glowing. She nodded before you finished the sentence, tiny, frantic nods like her neck was spring loaded.

“Yes.” She said, a bit loud, then winced. “I-I mean. Yes. Please.”

Please. You didn’t expect please. Your brain short circuited.

“Cool!” You blurted. “That’s… cool. Really cool.”

Noeul gave a tiny nod of acknowledgment and hid behind her hair again.

The teacher clapped to get everyone’s attention and began explaining the project: one illustrated book of poetry, two people per team, due in three weeks. You both nodded along without hearing a word.

After class you lingered by the door, clutching your books to your chest like a shield. Noeul began packing her bag with the speed of someone trying to escape a fire. You panicked.

“Um, do you… Do you maybe… wanna meet in the library after school?” You asked, facing her back. “To plan?”

She froze, and slowly turned to face you. Her ears were red now too.

“Okay.” She said to the floor.

“Okay.” You echoed.

You both left in opposite directions without saying goodbye.

That evening in the library, the awkwardness reached new, previously undiscovered heights. You sat across from each other, both opened your textbooks, both closed them again. Then you both pretended to read the same page for twenty minutes.

Silence stretched, the only sound in the room the clock ticking.

You tried first. “So… poetry. Do you, um… like poetry?”

Noeul nodded, then realized that wouldn’t be enough and forced words out. “I… like Ee Cummings.”

“Oh! I-me too.” You had never read Ee Cummings in your life.

Another excruciating pause.

Noeul cleared her throat. “I could-um… illustrate. If you write.”

“I-I’m not good at writing.” You admitted quietly.

“I’m not good at… people.” She mumbled.

You both laughed. It was small and shaky and mortified, but it was real, and something loosened in your chest. After that it was still awkward, but every word mumbled from one of you softened the air.

At one point Noeul reached for her water bottle and knocked her entire bag off the table. Everything spilled. Pencils, headphones, strawberry milk… everything.

Everything, including her sketchbook. The sketchbook that lived in the front pocket of her backpack like a guilty secret.

She never showed her drawings to anyone. Not her mom, not the art teacher who kept begging to see her portfolio, and definitely not you. Especially not you.

Except right now the copy was flipped open and landed on a painstakingly detailed drawing… of you.

It was you in the library, head resting on your hand, window light catching in your hair. There was a smaller one in the corner of you by the vending machine, shyly smiling down at your phone. Another of you in the hallway, mid laugh.

Noeul made a strangled noise and dived for the book, but you were faster. You picked it up with trembling fingers, flipping through more pages. More of you. So many of you. Some were quick doodles, some looked like they took hours. One had little hearts around your head in chibi style.

“No, no, no, don’t look, I’m so sorry-” Noeul was bright red, trying to grab it back, voice cracking. “I just-I like to draw pretty things, that’s all. I’m not weird, I swear-”

You looked up slowly. Your own face was burning, but you couldn’t stop the grin spreading across it.

“You think I’m pretty?”

She froze. Her mouth opened, then closed. She looked like she was about to cry or bolt or both.

You slid the sketchbook back to her gently, but kept your fingers resting on the page with the chibi hearts.

“I think you’re pretty too.” You whispered. “Like… really pretty. Like, the prettiest person I’ve ever seen.“

Noeul’s eyes went wide and watery. She let out the tiniest, most incredulous laugh, like she couldn’t believe this is real. You were both blushing so hard now it should have been deemed a public health risk.

After a long, long moment, she hid her face in her hands and mumbled into her palms, voice muffled but unmistakably giddy. “…Do you wanna, like… I don’t know… do something after this?”

You laughed, soft, relieved, hopelessly fond.

“Yeah.” You said. “Definitely.”

The silence after your answer stretched just long enough to be painful.

Noeul’s hands were still covering her face, but her ears were so red they were practically glowing. Then her fingers parted just enough for one eye to peek through, and when she saw you were still smiling - soft, not laughing at her - she made this tiny groan and hid again.

You cleared your throat, mostly to remind yourself how words work. “Sooo… what do you usually like to do after school?”

Noeul lowered her hands an inch. Her voice was muffled against her palms, barely audible. “The… The arcade. I-I know it’s kinda lame, I’m such a nerd. It’s fine if you think it’s stupid-”

“Let’s do that then!”

She dropped her hands completely. Her eyes were huge. “…Really?”

You nodded, already shoving books into your bag so you didn’t have to look directly at her and combust from the cuteness. “Yeah. Really.”

Noeul whispered the softest, most stunned “okay” you’d ever heard.

The walk to the arcade was quiet in the way only two painfully shy people can manage: shoulders brushing every few steps, both of you pretending to be extremely interested in cracks in the sidewalk, the sky, the streetlights, literally anything except the fact that you were walking next to each other.

Inside, the arcade was a comforting chaos of 8-bit music and neon. Noeul visibly relaxed the second the doors shut behind you. She knew this place. She beelined for the rhythm games first, then the claw machines, then, after three failed attempts and a tiny embarrassed groan, handed you the controls to the two player shooter cabinet.

You both sucked at it, but you sucked together. You kept accidentally stealing each other’s power ups and apologizing in unison. Every time one of you died, the other dramatically avenged them. By the fourth continue, you were laughing so hard your ribs hurt.

She won you a tiny plush cat from a claw machine on her twelfth try. She spent almost twenty dollars, but tried to play it off like it was nothing. Her proud little smile when she handed it over was brighter than all the arcade lights combined.

You traded tickets for matching keychains shaped like little pixel strawberries. Neither of you said it was because you both drink strawberry milk. You just… did it.

When it was time to leave, the sky had gone indigo. The air was cool, and the streets were mostly empty now. You walked side by side again, slower this time. The plush cat was tucked safely in your bag. The strawberry charm on your keys kept clinking softly against your phone.

Half a block from where your paths split, Noeul suddenly stopped.

You stopped too.

She was staring very hard at her shoes, hands twisted together in front of her. “…Um.”

You waited, heart doing its best to escape your chest.

Noeul took the tiniest step closer. Her voice was barely a breath. “Can I… hold your hand?”

The question was so careful, like she was scared the words themselves might break.

You didn’t answer with words, just reached out and slid your fingers between hers. Her palm was warm and a little damp and trembling, and it was the most perfect thing you’d ever felt.

She let out the shakiest exhale, like she’d been holding her breath for years. She squeezed once, gentle, testing. When you squeezed back, her shoulders dropped in relief and she started to walk again.

You didn’t let go the entire way home.

The corner where your paths had to split felt like the edge of the world. Streetlight pooled over both of you, soft gold on Noeul’s flushed cheeks and the tiny strawberry charm swinging from your keys. Neither of you had let go of the other’s hand yet. Your fingers were still laced, palms sweaty, hearts loud enough that you were half sure the other could hear.

Noeul swallowed. Her thumb nervously stroked the back of your hand once, twice, like she was checking it was real.

She opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

“…Uhh.” Her voice cracked. “Can I… can I have your number?”

The question came out so small and hopeful it nearly broke you. You stared at her for a full three seconds, brain short circuiting.

You had already had seventeen different daydreams about this exact moment and none of them prepared you for how shy and soft and terrified she would look right now.

“Y-yeah!” You blurted, too loud. You tried again, quieter. “I mean-yes. Please.”

Noeul fumbled her phone out of her pocket with her free hand and nearly dropped it. You had to let go of her other hand to take your own phone out, and the second your hands separated you both felt the loss like a physical thing.

You stood there on the sidewalk, two feet apart, heads ducked, thumbs hovering uselessly.

Noeul cleared her throat. “I’ll… I’ll type mine into yours?”

You nodded fast, thrusting your phone at her like it was on fire. She took it with both hands, cradling it like something precious. Her fingers were shaking so badly she had to restart her name twice.

n o e u l → n o e u l → noeul 🌱

She hesitated over the little sprout emoji, then left it because deleting it felt scarier than not.

You were doing the exact same thing in her phone.

You started with just your name, added a tiny pink heart, panicked, deleted the heart, added a strawberry instead, panicked again, left the strawberry.

When you swapped back, neither of you looked at the new contact immediately. You just clutched your phones to your chests like you’d been entrusted with state secrets.

Noeul risked a tiny glance at her screen. Her eyes went wide when she saw the strawberry. The corners of her mouth twitched, then bloomed into the shyest, happiest smile you’d ever seen.

You peeked at yours. The little sprout next to her name made your chest feel small.

Another long, perfect silence.

You both spoke at once:

“Goodnight-”

“Text me when-”

You stopped, laughing, the nervous kind that sounds more like breathing. Noeul tucked her hair behind her ear, phone still pressed over her heart.

“Text me when you get home?” She whispered.

“I will.” You promised. “First thing.”

She nodded, biting her lip. She took one tiny step backward, then another, eyes never leaving yours. You mirrored her, walking backwards, waving with your free hand like complete dorks.

Five minutes later, the first messages came through at exactly the same second.

💬 noeul 🌱: im home ♡

💬 you 🍓: im home!

The rest of the night felt like floating. Her hand still lived in yours like a phantom limb, her laugh kept looping behind your eyes, and every time the strawberry keychain brushed your phone, you smiled like an idiot.

At 11:54pm, your phone buzzed.

💬 noeul 🌱: um

💬 noeul 🌱: you awake?

💬 you 🍓: yep. in bed. lights off. definitely not sleeping tho

💬 noeul🌱: same. brain’s too loud

💬 you 🍓: also this guy is hogging half my pillow now

💬 you 🍓: [photo attached: you in dim lamplight, hair messy, cheek squished against the tiny gray plush cat so both of you are looking at the camera.]

💬 you 🍓: he says hi

💬 noeul 🌱: typing…

💬 noeul 🌱: typing…

💬 noeul 🌱: oh my god

💬 noeul 🌱: you’re so cute

💬 noeul 🌱: i just kissed my phone

💬 noeul 🌱: wait pretend you didn’t read that

💬 you 🍓: ohmygod

💬 you 🍓: too late

💬 you 🍓: i read it approximately ninety seven times

💬 you 🍓: pretty sure i ascended

💬 noeul 🌱: …………………

💬 noeul 🌱: deleting my entire existence now

💬 noeul 🌱: goodnight

💬 you 🍓: wait no come back

💬 you 🍓: i liked it

💬 you 🍓: a lot

💬 noeul 🌱: really?

💬 you 🍓: really really

💬 you 🍓: feel free to kiss your phone again. i support women’s rights and wrongs

💬 noeul 🌱: 🫣

💬 noeul 🌱: maybe… tomorrow

💬 noeul 🌱: in person instead?

💬 you 🍓: typing…

💬 you 🍓: typing…

💬 you 🍓: tomorrow sounds good

💬 you 🍓: like… really good

💬 noeul 🌱: okay ♡

💬 noeul 🌱: night for real this time

💬 you 🍓: night noeul ❤️

Neither of you let go of your phone.

Both of you lay in the dark, clutching screens to racing hearts, grinning so wide your cheeks hurt.

Sleep never stood a chance.

︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶