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pbaz7 · 3 days ago

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CROSSING THE LINE — PART SIX ♡

paige x azzi

warning: explicit language, sexual content

word count: 11.3k

A/N: Alright so this is long as hell 😭. Like I was saying earlier the spicy scene is a little detailed so be prepared for that. If you recognize the outfits I mentioned for their date you know they both looked good as hell in them lol. The comments and live reactions everyone leaves after they read makes my day so please keep it up!

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December 2023

Paige and Azzi had spent the last few weeks navigating the complexities of their new dynamic. It wasn’t exactly a smooth transition, but it wasn’t a complete disaster either. Their conversations, jokes, and banter came back effortlessly, as though no time had passed. But, now there was an added layer of tension in each interaction that they both struggled to ignore.

They had crossed the line, and the memory of it lingered on both of their minds constantly. Laying in one another’s beds all the time or sharing a quick or playful touch carried a tension that hadn’t been there before Halloween. So they were both trying to find their footing in this uncharted territory.

Despite the fact that they both clearly wanted to go there again, they agreed they needed to take time to fully trust one another and build their foundation before jumping into something. Paige had to learn to trust that Azzi wasn’t going to just up and leave, she had to learn how to allow herself to be with someone. Azzi had to trust that Paige was genuinely in it for the long haul, not the old Paige who would get bored and discard her like a fleeting hookup. The agreement seemed reasonable, even necessary. But despite their best intentions, they found themselves slipping up all the time.

One of the first times happened after practice. They were lounging casually in Paige’s room, a routine born out of habit and comfort because Paige swore her bed was more comfortable. Azzi’s leg was thrown over Paige’s as Paige sat up, massaging out the lingering soreness from the last road game. Azzi’s old injury from her time at UMD still had a way of acting up sometimes, and Paige, being a good ‘teammate,’ insisted on helping every time.

“I still don’t get how this keeps happening,” Paige said, pressing her thumbs into the muscle just above Azzi’s knee. Her brow slightly furrowed in concentration as she continued to apply firm pressure. “You’ve been so good with your recovery lately.”

Azzi shrugged lightly, her head resting back against the headboard. “Guess my body didn’t get the memo about the long plane ride.”

Paige huffed a small laugh. “Well, lucky for you, I’m basically a pro at this now.” Her hands worked skillfully over Azzi’s leg, her fingers kneading the muscle with a mix of care and precision.

Azzi let out a quiet hum of appreciation. “Mm. You are really good at this.”

Paige smirked, her eyes flicking up to meet Azzi’s briefly. “I’m just good with my hands,” she replied smoothly, her tone teasing but carrying a hint of pride.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a faint smile. “Yeah trust me I remember.”

The words lingered between them, heavy just as Azzi intended. Paige kept her focus on Azzi’s leg, but the silence spoke volumes, the air between them a little thick with tension.

Azzi broke it first, her voice soft but pointed. “You tense up every time I hint at us having sex, you know.”

Paige blinked, her hands faltering for a moment before continuing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She said, feigning confusion.

Azzi’s gaze stayed steady. “You know what I’m talking about.” Her tone was light, but there was a seriousness beneath it.

Paige swallowed hard, her hands resuming their work as she focused intently on Azzi’s knee which was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. “You’re imagining things,” she muttered. “Maybe one of those dreams of yours was too detailed Az.”

Azzi chuckled softly, tilting her head to the side as she studied Paige. “Am I?” she asked, her voice carrying a teasing lilt. “Because I seem to remember you were very, very thorough.”

Paige, usually brimming with confidence that bordered on cocky, faltered slightly, her usual composure slipping. “You’re insane,” she muttered, shaking her head, though a faint flush crept up her neck.

Azzi’s lips curved into a smirk as she leaned back against the headboard, completely at ease. “Right. My mistake,” she said smoothly, her eyes locking with Paige’s deliberately. Her voice dropped slightly, taking on a warmth that sent a shiver down Paige’s spine. “But seriously though, don’t stop. It feels so good.”

Clearing her throat, Paige tried to play it off. “You’re crazy,” she muttered, focusing her attention back on Azzi’s knee.

“You started it,” Azzi countered, her voice light but tinged with something Paige couldn’t place.

Paige let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “Fair enough.” She adjusted her grip, her thumbs pressing into a particularly tight spot.

The sound that escaped Azzi was too close to something Paige had heard in an entirely different context. The sound sent a jolt through her, and she froze for a moment, her hands stilling against Azzi’s leg.

Paige glanced up, her pupils now slightly dilated as her eyes locked onto Azzi’s. The look Azzi gave her was steady, unflinching, but there was something in it that made Paige’s pulse quicken. She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry, and quickly looked away.

“I, uh… I need water,” Paige mumbled, already shifting Azzi’s leg to stand.

Before she could move, Azzi’s hand reached out, wrapping gently around her wrist. “Wait,” Azzi said softly, her tone was calm but insistent.

Paige hesitated, her gaze flicking to where Azzi’s fingers held her. She could feel the warmth of Azzi’s touch, the quiet undeniable firmness in the gesture. Slowly, Paige looked back at her, her expression slightly guarded.

“Azzi…” Paige said, her voice low, her tone almost a warning.

Azzi didn’t let go. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing as she studied Paige’s face. “Why do you keep doing that?”

“Doing what?” Paige asked, the slight waver in her voice betraying her.

“Run,” Azzi said simply, her voice steady but laced with meaning. “Every time things get… interesting…you find an excuse to leave.”

Paige blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “I’m not running,” she protested weakly, though even she didn’t believe the words.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Then stay.”

The challenge in Azzi’s voice was clear, and it made Paige’s stomach flip. She opened her mouth to respond but found she didn’t have the words.

Azzi’s grip on her wrist tightened slightly, enough to pull Paige forward, closer to her on the bed. Paige could see the resolve in her eyes, the quiet determination that didn’t really leave room for disagreement. Then, without warning, Azzi tugged her closer, closing the distance between them. The moment their lips touched everything seemed to pause. A stillness that made Paige’s heart skip before it began racing.

So Paige froze at first, her mind running a dozen directions and a dozen scenarios, but then Azzi’s arms wrapped around her neck, tugging her deeper into the kiss as her hands wrapped softly around the nape of her neck. It wasn’t rushed, but it was intense, as if Azzi was pulling her into something that didn’t allow for hesitation. Paige felt the tension in her chest begin to loosen, the heat spreading as instinct took over and her free hand found its way to Azzi’s cheek as she deepened the kiss.

For a moment, everything else fell away—the doubts, the fears, all the questions. All that mattered was the way Azzi’s lips felt against hers, the way their bodies seemed to gravitate towards one another so naturally.

But as their bodies pressed closer and the kiss deepend, something in Paige stirred, so she broke the kiss softly pulling back just enough to catch her breath much to Azzi’s protest.

Paige’s voice was barely a whisper as she murmured, “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Azzi tilted her head slightly, eyes searching Paige's face. “Why not?”

Paige shook her head, feeling the way her mind was racing. “We’re not ready yet Az.”

Azzi furrowed her brow. “Why can’t we just let things happen naturally? We’re in a good place, aren’t we? I’m fine, P I promise.”

Without a word, Paige reached over and unlocked her phone and passed it to Azzi. She watched her closely, her expression softening.

Azzi took the phone, her eyes reflecting her confusion. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Go through it,” Paige urged, her voice soft yet insistent.

Azzi hesitated, a knot of doubt forming in her stomach; she wasn’t sure she wanted to see what was behind that request although part of her knew it was absolutely nothing. “I don’t know, Paige…”

Paige’s tone softened, almost pleading. “I swear, there’s nothing in there. It's just... I need you to trust me and see for yourself.”

Azzi sighed, fighting the anxiety that bubbled inside her. Paige was constantly reassuring her, but part of her still feared what she might find. So with a resigned sigh, Azzi locked the phone again and tossed it gently back to Paige.

“I don’t need to see it, Paige,” Azzi muttered, her voice strained.

Paige's now softly pointing out, “You can’t even go through my phone without being scared, Az. We’re not ready, and I want us to be ready before we go there again.”

Azzi’s eyes dropped to her hands, fingers nervously playing with each other. A wave of sadness washed over her, guilt twisting in her chest. She felt torn—wanting to trust Paige, but something in her held back, unsure, afraid of what she might find. A mix of emotions swirled through her brain making it hard to breathe for a moment.

Paige, sensing the internal struggle, moved closer. She gently grabbed Azzi's jaw, lifting her head until their eyes met. Her voice was soft but firm, the sincerity clear in every word. “It’s okay. We’ll get there. We just need a little more time.”

Azzi nodded silently, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. Paige smiled, her touch gentle as she settled back into her previous position, resuming the soothing massage on Azzi’s knee as the energy in the room slowly shifted back to normal.

…

Then there was today, a few weeks later Paige was leaning casually against the wall waiting for Azzi to get out of class, her backpack slung over one shoulder as she chatted with a girl Azzi didn’t recognize. Azzi was walking toward her, her pace slowing slightly as she took in the sight. Paige’s easy smile, the way she gestured animatedly, and the way the girl was giving Paige her undivided attention—all of it caused something to simmer in Azzi’s chest.

But Azzi didn’t let it show. She schooled her expression into neutrality as she approached, stopping just short of Paige. Paige caught sight of her and broke into a huge smile, her face lighting up effortlessly.

“Hey Azzi” Paige said, her voice casual as she turned to the girl. “Thank you, I appreciate the support!”

The girl nodded, her gaze lingering on Paige for just a second too long before walking away. Azzi’s eyes followed her briefly, her jaw tightening.

As they made their way to Paige’s car, she threw her arm around Azzi’s shoulders the way she always did now when they were walking but the walk was silent. To Paige, it was a comfortable kind of silence, one she didn’t think twice about. For Azzi, it was anything but.

By the time they arrived at their empty suite, Azzi’s frustration had bubbled to the surface at Paige not saying anything. She shut the door behind her with a little more force than necessary and turned to Paige.

“Who was that?” Azzi asked, her tone clipped.

Paige blinked, confused as these were the first words Azzi was saying to her. “Who was who?”

Azzi crossed her arms. “The girl you were talking to.”

Paige shrugged, her expression indifferent. “I don’t know. Some random fan asking about our next game.”

Azzi scoffed, her expression tightening. “A fan, huh? Right. Because you’re always just casually talking to fans.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Paige asked, her confusion evident

Azzi’s voice was sharp, but quieter now, as if she wasn’t sure she wanted to say it out loud. “It means I’ve seen how you are with people, Paige. I know how easy it is for you to flirt without even realizing it.”

Paige groaned, throwing her hands up. “Azzi, come on. She was literally asking about the next game. I wasn’t flirting with her.”

Azzi muttered something under her breath, something Paige couldn’t quite catch.

“What?” Paige asked again, her voice growing slightly.

Azzi let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Maybe you weren’t trying to. But she didn’t look like she was asking about the game, Paige.”

Paige huffed, her frustration mounting. “I don’t get it. I didn’t do anything wrong, and you’re acting like I cheated or something!”

Azzi’s jaw clenched, and her voice dropped even further. “I’m not saying that. But it’s hard not to wonder sometimes… to wonder if maybe you’re getting bored.”

Paige froze, her eyebrows knitting together. “Bored? Azzi, what are you talking about?”

Azzi’s gaze fell, and her voice softened, no longer sharp but tinged with vulnerability. “We just haven’t defined anything. And we haven’t… you know… since that first time. I just—sometimes I don’t know where we stand, Paige and I don’t know if us trying to figure this out is enough for you. If us waiting is boring to you.”

Paige blinked, thrown off by the sudden shift. Her frustration tangled with guilt, but she couldn’t find the words to make Azzi feel better. “Azzi…”

Azzi stepped back slightly.. “You’re so used to being wanted by everyone and getting what you want whenever you want it. It’s not like I don’t know that. I just..waiting is a little frustrating and—” She cut herself off, exhaling sharply. “Forget it.”

“Forget it?” Paige repeated, her voice rising slightly. “No, Azzi, don’t do that. Don’t act like this is just on me. I’m here, aren’t I? I’m literally here with you.”

Azzi shook her head, her tone weary now. “I don’t want to argue with you, Paige. Not about this right now, I was just being jealous it’s stupid.”

She turned and started toward her room, but Paige followed her. “No, wait. Don’t walk away.”

Azzi stopped just inside her room, bending over to grab something from her desk. Without looking back, she said lightly, “Seriously, Paige, I don’t want to do this right now. We can talk later.”

Paige’s frustration was boiling over. She hated the weight in Azzi’s voice, hated how the words stuck in her own throat. She didn’t know how to explain herself, how to make Azzi see that there was nothing else—no one else—that mattered to her. That waiting for Azzi didn’t bother her.

Before she could think twice about it, Paige crossed the room in two quick strides. Without hesitation she grabbed Azi’s arm, softly spinning her around. Before either of them could speak, Paige’s lips crashed against Azzi’s. The kiss was full of frustration, need, and every unspoken word between them.

For a moment, Azzi froze, caught off guard, but then her body melted into Paige’s. Her hands clenching the fabric of Paige’s shirt pulling her closer as she kissed her back with just as much intensity. The argument dissolved between them, replaced by something much more raw.

Paige pulled Azzi backwards, guiding her with each step. Their lips never parted, each kiss growing deeper and more desperate as each of them let out their frustration at their situation. Paige barely registered the edge of the bed hitting the back of her knees before she fell onto it, Azzi following instantly. Azzi straddled her, her hands gripping Paige’s shirt tightly as their mouths locked in a rhythm that burned away their anger and replaced it with pure desire.

Paige groaned into Azzi’s mouth as Azzi rolled her hips into Paige’s pressing their bodies closer, the kiss growing heavier with every second. Paige’s hands instinctively wrapped firmly around Azz’s waist, trying to steady herself but pull Azzi closer at the same time. The touch seemed to encourage Azzi who broke from Paige’s lips and began trailing urgent kisses down her neck.

Paige’s breath hitched, her head tilting back as a shiver ran through her. “Fuck Azzi–” she whispered, her voice caught between a desperate plea and a low moan.

At the sound of this Azzi froze. Her lips hovered over Paige’s skin, the weight of the moment crashing down on her. Slowly Azzi pulled back, her breathing uneven as she propped herself up slightly with a hand on Paige’s chest, her dark eyes clouded with something indecipherable.

Paige lay beneath her, her blue eyes dark with pure desire but also something softer—a quiet vulnerability that tugged at Azzi’s chest, that made Azzi want to just say forget it. But Azzi sighed, pressing the bridge of her nose between her fingers before climbing off of Paige entirely.

The abruptness of the movement made Paige sit up on her elbows, her brow furrowing in confusion. “Azzi,” she started, her voice hesitant, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

Azzi shook her head, cutting her off gently. “You don’t need to apologize.”

Paige watched her closely, but her heart clenched when she saw Azzi grab her gym bag. A sudden panic flared within her. Paige scrambled to her feet, her voice pitching higher. “Where are you going?”

Azzi slung the bag over her shoulder, glancing at Paige with a calmness that didn’t match the rising tension in Paige’s chest. “I’m going to the gym.”

Paige’s stomach twisted. Azzi’s response was completely rational, but it didn’t stop the surge of panic that overtook her. She stepped forward, her voice shaky. “Azzi, wait. Please don’t go.”

Azzi’s expression softened already knowing what was going through Paige’s head. “Paige—”

“I’m sorry,” Paige interrupted, her words tumbling out. “I didn’t mean to push—I don’t know why I did that. Just, don’t go. Please.”

Azzi exhaled, the weight of Paige’s fear pressing down on her. “You don’t need to apologize,” she said softly, stepping closer, her voice dripping with warmth. “It’s not what you think. I’m not leaving. I just need to clear my head, okay?

But Paige’s unease was written all over her face. Her blue eyes glistened with unshed tears, her lips parted as if to plead further. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “But you’re walking out. You’re just…leaving. And what if–”

Azzi sighed again, cutting her off gently but firmly, before dropping her bag and stepping forward grabbing Paige’s hand. She led her to sit down on the edge of the bed. Azzi knelt in front of her, placing her hands gently on Paige’s knees.

“Paige,” she started, her voice firm but tender. Paige tried to interrupt, shaking her head, but Azzi caught her face in her hands, making her look directly at her.

“Listen to me,” Azzi said, her voice steady. “I’m not leaving. Baby, I promise you, I’m not leaving you.”

Paige’s breath hitched, the emotions swirling in her chest almost too much to bear. “But you’re going to the gym,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. “And I–I don’t know, it feels like…like you’re leaving because I messed up, and I–”

“Hey. I’m just going to the gym,” Azzi cut in gently, her thumbs brushing over Paige’s cheeks. “You didn’t mess up. This isn’t about that. We were arguing about something that doesn’t even matter, and I just need a little time to clear my head. That’s all. I don’t want to fight with you, and I don’t want this to spiral. We both just need a little time to settle and calm down.”

Paige blinked, her mind beginning to grasp Azzi’s words. Slowly, she nodded, the realization dawning on her as her breathing steadied. “You promise?”

Azzi smiled softly, letting her hands linger on Paige’s cheeks for a moment whispering “I promise P,” before she pulled back. She slowly stood and grabbed her phone and gym bag again, heading toward the door. But as she reached the threshold, she glanced back at Paige, noticing the way her mind still seemed to race, her unease still faintly visible.

Azzi hesitated for a moment before walking back to her. She bent down in front of Paige again, her brown eyes warm as they met Paige’s. “Paige I promise you I’ll be back. I was being irrational and I just need a little time to think baby.”

Paige nodded again, her lips quirking into the faintest smile at the word ‘baby.’

Then, Azzi leaned in and kissed Paige—softly, gently, with a tenderness that melted away the last of Paige’s fears.

When Azzi pulled back, Paige managed a small smile, her chest feeling a little lighter. “Okay,” she whispered.

Azzi gave her one last reassuring look before standing and heading out, the door clicking softly behind her. This time, when Azzi walked out, Paige didn’t panic. She sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers brushing her lips as she continued to smile faintly. Her heart settled as her mind finally began to quiet.

Later that night, Azzi returned to the suite with a steaming bag of Noodles & Company and a shirley temple. The soft glow from the TV lit up Paige’s face as she sat with her legs spread on the couch, her headset slightly askew as she focused on her game of Fortnite yelling about who knows what. When Paige looked up and saw Azzi standing there, her smile was radiant—so pure and full of warmth that Azzi swore she’d never forget it as it made her heart skip a beat.

“I’m back,” Azzi said softly, holding up the food.

Ice, sprawled on the armchair groaned dramatically, flicking a chip at Azzi. “I see how it is–bring noodles for Paige but nothing for me. Your favorite child”

Azzi laughed, her eyes never leaving Paige. “You can have what I got for myself,” she teased, handing Ice the bottle of water with a smirk.

Ice rolled her eyes. “You’re such a simp.”

Paige chuckled at that, but Azzi didn’t care. With a soft smile, she walked over and plucked Paige’s headset off her head.

“Hey!” Paige protested, reaching for it, but Azzi was already tugging her to her feet.

“Time to take a break,” Azzi said, her voice playful but firm.

“One more game,” Paige whined, her lips jutting into a pout.

Azzi shook her head, laughing. “Nope. My room. Now.”

Paige huffed but followed Azzi willingly, shooting a teasing glance at Ice, who muttered something about third-wheeling and how they never feed their child as they disappeared into Azzi’s room.

Once inside, Azzi set the food on her desk, but Paige crossed her arms, staring her down. “You’re eating some of this,” she insisted.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. “I brought it for you, you know.”

“And I’m sharing it with you,” Paige said, already opening the box and poking around with a fork. “Sit.”

Azzi chuckled, stepping back and sitting on the bed, leaning back against the pillows with a grin. Paige sat on the bed beside her, the container of noodles in her hand. She held out a forkful of noodles, her gaze locked on Azzi’s as she leaned in a little closer.

“Really?” Azzi asked, amusement flickering in her eyes.

“Really,” Paige replied, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Azzi sighed but leaned forward, letting Paige feed her. They laughed as Paige made a show of wiping a stray noodle from Azzi’s chin, her touch lingering just a second too long.

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “You’re not being subtle, you know.”

Paige grinned, giving her a playful shrug. “I’m just making sure you don’t go hungry.”

Azzi laughed softly, her hand brushing over Paige’s, lingering just for a second. “If you keep looking at me like that, I might start getting other ideas about where this night is going.”

Paige's smile widened, her cheeks turning a soft shade of pink. “Oh, trust me, there’s plenty more where that came from. ”

This statement makes Azzi raise her eyebrow at the blonde sitting in front of her.

Paige just laughs, shaking her head as she takes a bite of her food. “Get your head out of the gutter, we’re watching Kyrie highlights.”

This immediately makes Azzi groan.

They continued eating as the quiet settled around them, neither of them noticing how natural it all felt—how their earlier tension had dissolved into something lighter, softer.

As Paige scooped up another bite of noodles and tried to offer it to her, Azzi caught her wrist gently, stopping her. Paige looked at her, confused.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Azzi said softly, her brown eyes filled with admiration.

Paige’s cheeks flushed, her lips twitching into a shy smile. “I think you’re pretty amazing too.”

Azzi leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to Paige’s cheek. “I don’t deserve you.”

Paige shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “You deserve the world, Azzi.”

They continued eating, sharing the container of noodles as a comfortable quiet settled between them. Every now and then, Paige would sneak a bite in Azzi’s direction, insisting she eat more despite Azzi’s protests. Paige was adamant, though, grinning as she held out another forkful until Azzi rolled her eyes and relented, letting out a playful sigh of defeat.

When Paige reached for her shirley temple, Azzi playfully made a grab for it, earning a sharp glare and a dramatic clutch of the cup from Paige. “Don’t even think about it this is where I draw the line,” Paige warned, her tone light but firm, causing Azzi to laugh, her head shaking at Paige’s possessiveness over the drink.

The quiet moments stretched between them, filled with warmth and contentment. As Paige leaned back against the headboard, her mind felt unusually calm. The endless worries, the fears that usually gnawed at her, were nowhere to be found. Azzi’s presence anchored her—a steady, quiet reassurance she hadn’t realized she’d needed until now.

Azzi, meanwhile, watched Paige smile and laugh, her heart swelling with an emotion she hadn’t fully allowed herself to feel until now. She could see it in the way Paige looked at her, in the easy way Paige seemed to settle into their shared space. Paige being at home waiting for her. This wasn’t fleeting; it wasn’t temporary. Paige wasn’t going anywhere.

As Paige set the empty container aside, she leaned back against the headboard, a thoughtful look crossing her face. Out of nowhere, she broke the silence. “Let me take you on a date,” she said, her voice casual, as if she were suggesting they go for a walk.

Azzi blinked, slightly caught off guard. “A date?” she repeated, her tone curious, as if needing to clarify what she’d just heard.

“Yeah,” Paige said simply, shrugging like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Why not?”

Azzi let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Paige, you’ve never been on a date in your life,” she teased, the corners of her lips lifting into a smirk.

Paige grinned, unfazed. “Then you can be my first. It’ll just be dinner. That’s what people do on first dates, right?”

Azzi couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her, a warm sound that filled the room. “Sure, P,” she said softly, her gaze lingering on Paige’s earnest expression. “You can take me on a date.”

“Perfect,” Paige said, her grin widening. “Tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow?” Azzi repeated, her eyebrows shooting up in mock surprise. “What if I’m busy?”

Paige tilted her head, giving Azzi a pointed look. “We have the same schedule. You’re free.”

Azzi playfully scoffed, crossing her arms. “Fine, tomorrow,” she said, her lips curling into an amused smile. “But don’t think this means I’m easy to impress.”

Paige leaned closer, her confidence never wavering. “Oh, I don’t need to impress you,” she teased, her voice dropping just enough to send a slight shiver through Azzi. “You’re already impressed by everything I do.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but the blush creeping up her neck betrayed her. “You’re ridiculous,” she muttered, unable to hide her smile.

“Ridiculous enough for you to go on a date with me,” Paige shot back, settling back into the pillows with a triumphant grin.

…

The next night rolled around, and Paige found herself standing outside the door of her own suite, a bouquet of flowers in her hand. She’d insisted that if this was going to be a real date, she had to pick Azzi up properly. So to make it authentic, she’d gotten ready in Nika’s room, leaving Azzi to prepare in the suite they shared.

Now, as she stood there, her nerves betrayed her usual confidence. Paige wiped her hands on her pants and took a steadying breath, the flowers trembling slightly in her grip. When the door finally opened, any composure she’d mustered vanished.

Azzi stood before her in a matching hot pink set: shorts and a blazer-like jacket that hung open to reveal an extremely cropped black shirt underneath, leaving little to the imagination. The outfit framed her toned stomach perfectly, her belly piercing catching the light, while the silver heart necklace Paige had given her rested against her skin.

Paige’s breath hitched, her words disappearing entirely as she stared. Azzi, blushing ever so slightly under the weight of Paige’s gaze, let out a soft laugh. “Do you like it?” she teased, her voice laced with a hint of shyness despite her confident appearance.

Paige finally snapped her mouth shut, her lips curving into a goofy smile. “Woah… yeah…you look amazing, Azzi,” she managed, her voice quieter than usual.

Then she remembered the flowers still in her hand and thrust them forward a little awkwardly. “These are for you.”

Azzi’s smile softened, her brown eyes sparkling as she took the bouquet. “Thank you,” she said warmly, clearly charmed by how flustered Paige was—a rarity for the usually self-absorbed blonde.

Azzi turned and walked back into the suite to find a vase for the flowers. Paige stayed rooted in place, still lingering by the doorway. Her gaze followed Azzi as the other girl moved effortlessly, her perfume lingering in the air where she had stood. Paige exhaled slowly, her heart pounding as she realized how completely Azzi had captivated her.

As Azzi walked back toward the door, her eyes flickered over Paige, taking in every detail. Paige had her hair down, slightly wavy—just the way Azzi liked it—and was wearing a knitted cardigan adorned with delicate flowers and a white shirt underneath it. Her patchwork blue jeans, with their various shades of denim, added a casual yet stylish touch that somehow made her look a little too good in Azzi’s eyes.

Azzi’s gaze lingered as she raked her eyes over Paige’s figure, a subtle appreciation shining in her expression. Paige, noticing this, seemed to regain her usual confidence. The nervous energy from earlier faded, replaced by a smirk that tugged at the corner of her lips.

“What?” Paige teased, her voice low and playful as she tilted her head. “You already eye fucking me, and we haven’t even left yet?”

Azzi blinked, caught off guard by Paige’s sudden shift in demeanor, but her cheeks warmed as she laughed softly. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she shot back, brushing past Paige and bumping her shoulder lightly.

Paige chuckled, stepping aside to let Azzi pass, but her smirk only deepened. “Come on,” she said, holding out her hand for Azzi to take. “Let’s get this date started before you decide you can’t wait.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the smile that crept across her face as she slipped her hand into Paige’s. “Bold of you to assume I haven’t already decided.”

…

When they arrived at the restaurant, Paige made a point to pull Azzi’s seat out for her, earning a soft, amused smile. After ensuring Azzi was comfortably seated, Paige settled into her own chair, her fingers lightly drumming on the table.

Azzi noticed the subtle nervous energy radiating from Paige and leaned forward, her smile warm and reassuring. “You know you don’t need to be nervous, right? It’s just us. We’ve had dinner together hundreds of times.”

Paige, not one to admit she was rattled, plastered on a confident grin. “Psh, nervous? Me? I’ve got this in the bag,” she replied, waving her hand dismissively, though her knee bouncing under the table told a different story.

Azzi tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “You’re such a liar. You’re literally fidgeting right now.”

Paige stilled her hands and raised a brow. “Okay, first of all, I’m not fidgeting. I’m just... uh, practicing my reflexes. Athletes do that, you know. Second, this is going to be the best date you’ve ever been on, so sit back and enjoy, Ms. Fudd.”

Azzi chuckled, leaning her elbow on the table and resting her chin in her hand. “Alright then, let’s see what you’ve got.”

Paige smirked, relaxing slightly as they fell into their usual rhythm. The conversation shifted to light teasing like always

Azzi grinned as Paige described an admittedly clumsy move during practice earlier that week that led to a turnover. “So you’re saying your hands couldn’t keep up, huh?” Azzi teased, her voice dropping just enough to add a layer of meaning.

Paige rolled her eyes, biting back a smile. “Not everyone has your freakishly perfect coordination, Az.”

“Good thing I remember you being pretty coordinated when it actually counts…” Azzi replied smoothly, her voice low and full of suggestion.

Paige froze mid-breath, her jaw dropping open as her brain scrambled to process Azzi’s words.

Azzi leaned back in her chair, her smirk wide as she watched Paige’s stunned expression. “What? Cat got your tongue?”

Before Paige could even think of a response, the waiter approached their table, her attention immediately drawn to Paige. With a charming smile, she addressed Paige warmly, completely ignoring Azzi.

Paige, however, didn’t even notice the waiter’s presence. Her wide-eyed gaze remained fixed on Azzi, her expression a mix of desire, admiration, and pure shock.

Azzi glanced at the waiter, then back at Paige, raising an eyebrow as she crossed her arms. “Earth to Paige,” she said teasingly, lightly kicking her under the table.

Paige blinked, finally snapping out of her daze. “Huh?” she mumbled, her head jerking toward the waiter, who was now waiting patiently with an amused expression.

The waiter gave Paige a quick once-over before flashing a flirtatious smile. “I was just asking, if you’re ready to order? I’m sure whatever you choose will be just as good as you look,” she said, her tone light and teasing.

Paige, still a little dazed, didn’t even acknowledge the compliment, her eyes having already drifted back to Azzi. Without missing a beat, she motioned toward Azzi, murmuring, “Um she’ll order for both of us.”

Azzi smirked at the subtle way Paige brushed the girl off. “I’ll have the grilled salmon, and she’ll have the filet mignon, medium, with a side of the mashed potatoes,” she said smoothly, locking eyes with the waiter.

The waiter gave a quick nod, clearly a little taken aback by Azzi’s effortless command, before she turned and walked away.

Azzi, not letting her teasing moment pass, leaned in and whispered, “You’re so easy to fluster, you know that?”

Paige finally shook herself out of her stupor, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. “You like making me do that, don’t you?”

Azzi’s smirk deepened, and she leaned back in her chair. “Maybe. It’s cute how much I can get to you with just a few words.”

Azzi and Paige continued their light conversation, the air between them easy and familiar as they waited for their food to come out.

As she returned with their food, her smile widening as she set the plates down in front of them. Her gaze lingered on Paige once more, and she leaned slightly closer than necessary. “Is there anything else I can get for you?” she asked, her voice soft, her tone unmistakably suggestive.

Paige, busy unwrapping her silverware, didn’t bother looking at the waiter. Instead, she gestured toward Azzi. “You can ask her,” she said dismissively, her tone a little flat.

Azzi’s lips twitched with amusement as she leaned back in her chair. With deliberate ease, she reached across the table, letting her hand rest just near Paige’s wrist. She kept her touch subtle, a silent claim that didn’t go unnoticed by Paige, whose posture relaxed slightly as she smiled to herself.

Azzi finally turned her gaze to the waiter, her smile polite but sharp. “We’re all set, thanks,” she said smoothly, her tone leaving no room for interpretation.

The waiter hesitated, clearly missing—or choosing to ignore—the subtext. She turned her attention back to Paige, leaning forward slightly. “Well, if you change your mind... you know where to find me,” she said, her eyes glinting with boldness as she lingered at the table longer than necessary.

Azzi tilted her head slightly, her amusement growing at the audacity of the girl in front of her. So her fingers shifted, brushing just barely against Paige’s wrist now, her touch featherlight but deliberate. Paige’s breath slightly hitched, her eyes darting to Azzi as her face began to flush at the soft touch.

Azzi, clearly enjoying herself, leaned forward slightly. Her voice dropped, soft and teasing but with a possessive undertone that was impossible to miss. “Paige, baby,” she murmured, her thumb starting a slow, deliberate stroke against the inside of Paige’s wrist as she looked her in the eyes. “Is there anything you need from her?”

Paige’s lips parted, her breath slightly stuttering as she stared at Azzi in awe. She shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “No... I'm good,” she said, the words rushed but sincere, clearly immersed in the control Azzi was putting forward.

Azzi smirked, her fingers sliding down to lightly intertwine with Paige’s. She didn’t grip too tightly, just enough to make her point as she finally turned her attention back to the waiter. “See? She’s good,” Azzi said, her tone sweet but pointed, her eyes narrowing slightly.

The waiter faltered, her confidence cracking as her eyes flicked between them, taking in the subtle shift in Paige’s demeanor as she was once again completely immersed in Azzi. “I was just being friendly,” she said, her smile now strained.

Azzi’s smile tightened, and her grip on Paige’s hand squeezed just slightly, her thumb brushing along the back of Paige’s knuckles. “Friendly’s fine,” she said lightly, her tone still sweet but carrying an unmistakable edge. “Just not with her.”

The waiter finally seemed to understand she was losing ground. With a tight, awkward smile, she mumbled, “Well... enjoy your meal,” before walking away without another word.

As the waiter disappeared, Azzi let out a soft chuckle, her thumb lazily resuming its strokes against Paige’s hand. “That was cute,” Azzi teased, her smirk widening as she watched Paige squirm.

Paige groaned, finally tugging her hand free and leaning forward to hide her face in her hands. “You’re kinda crazy Az,” she muttered, though her soft laugh betrayed her words.

Azzi leaned back in her chair, her smirk still firmly in place as she picked up her fork. “Well I guess that’s the first new thing you’ll learn about me,” she said casually, giving Paige a look. “I really don’t like sharing.”

Paige peeked at her from between her fingers, her lips quirking into a teasing smile. “Hmm. Wouldn’t have pegged you as the jealous type,” she said, her voice light but edged with curiosity.

Azzi’s smile widened as she shrugged. “I didn’t say anything about being jealous,” she replied smoothly.. She tilted her head toward where the waiter had retreated. “I just know how to put people in their place.”

Paige laughed, rolling her eyes as she leaned back in her chair. “No need,” she said casually. “I don’t see anybody but you at this point.”

The simplicity of Paige's words struck Azzi unexpectedly, and her heart fluttered in her chest. There was a warmth in the sincerity of it all, a reassurance that settled deep in her, and in that moment, Azzi realized how much she wanted to give herself over completely to Paige. It wasn’t just about the date or the playful teasing anymore—it was about something real, something she could feel in her bones.

A while later Azzi was grinning as Paige gave her another bite of her food, making her comment softly, “You know, this is the first date I’ve actually enjoyed.”

Paige cocked an eyebrow, her lips curving into a cocky grin. “Of course it is,” she said, leaning back in her seat. “It’s me.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, her smile never wavering. “Whatever,” she muttered playfully, but the affection in her voice was unmistakable. She couldn’t deny how much this meant to her.

Paige, with a teasing glint in her eye, reached for another bite of food, offering it to Azzi again. But Azzi raised an eyebrow, giving her a mock glare. “Are you actually going to eat any of your food, or are you just planning on giving it all to me?”

Paige shrugged with a mischievous grin. “You need to eat.”

Azzi glanced down at her plate, clearly making progress in her meal. “I’m eating,” she said, giving Paige an exaggerated look. Azzi picked up a forkful of her salmon and waved it in front of Paige’s face. “Here. You try it. It’s actually pretty good.”

Paige recoiled dramatically, holding up her hands. “Oh no, I’m good. You know I don’t do salmon.”

Azzi made a face, then went for the classic move. She looked at Paige with the most exaggerated, pleading puppy dog eyes she could muster. “Please? Just one bite? For me?”

Paige sighed dramatically, resisting for only a moment. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

But before Azzi could even manage a victorious grin, Paige relented. “Fine. One bite.” She said with mock reluctance and let Azzi feed her a bite of the salmon.

Paige chewed it slowly, her face a picture of careful deliberation. She swallowed and then, after a long pause, gave Azzi a look that was half-amused, half-disgusted.

Azzi was already smiling, clearly pleased with herself. “See? It wasn’t that bad.”

Paige grumbles in disagreement as she eats some of her food to get rid of the taste.

As they continued talking Paige was mid-bite when a small bit of mashed potato found its way to her lip. She didn’t notice at first but Azzi did. So with a playful smirk, Azzi reached across the table, her fingers brushing lightly against Paige's skin as she gently wiped the spot from her lip with her index finger. As she pulled her hand back, Azzi made a deliberate show of slowly licking the mashed potato off her finger, her gaze locked with Paige’s the entire time. The movement was teasing, a mix of subtle flirtation and confidence that left Paige a little breathless.

Paige couldn’t pull her eyes away from Azzi as she took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. When she managed to speak, her voice low, almost a whisper as she simply said, “Azzi please.”

Azzi tilted her head innocently, her lips curling into a playful smile. “Yes, Paige?” she asked, her tone casual, but her eyes sparkled with mischief, knowing exactly what she was doing, loving the control she had over Paige.

Paige swallowed hard, her heart racing as she licked her lips. “You’re killing me tonight,” she murmured, her gaze never breaking from Azzi’s.

Azzi’s smile widened, her voice dripping with teasing confidence as she leaned just slightly closer across the table. “I know, baby,” she replied smoothly.

The air around them seemed to shift. The noise of the restaurant, the clink of cutlery, the hum of conversations—all faded into the background as Paige and Azzi stayed locked in each other’s gaze. Paige’s pupils dilated, her blue eyes growing darker under the intensity of Azzi’s stare.

Azzi, fully aware of the effect she was having, didn’t look away. There was a challenge in her gaze now, an unspoken dare, almost as if she was silently urging Paige to make the next move.

Paige clenched her jaw, fighting the urge to pull Azzi closer, to end the dinner and take her home. She could feel her composure slipping away, and Azzi, with that smile still firmly in place, was more than happy to push her further.

Azzi’s gaze never wavered as she subtly shifted her hand, her fingers brushing against Paige's with a deliberate slowness as she let their fingers intertwine, a small yet intimate gesture that sent a jolt of heat through Paige’s body. Azzi’s touch was light, almost teasing, but it was enough to completely throw off Paige’s concentration.

Paige had to close her eyes for a moment, trying to regain some semblance of control. She could barely think straight with the way Azzi was looking at her. So she took a slow breath, trying to ground herself, but Azzi’s hand holding hers kept her tethered in the moment.

“Open your eyes P,” Azzi’s voice was a whisper, but it carried authority, a command wrapped in sweetness. The edge in her tone made Paige’s stomach tighten.

Paige slowly opened her eyes, finding herself once again lost in the depths of Azzi’s gaze immediately. There was no escaping it now. She was completely under Azzi’s spell, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to escape at all. Azzi’s fingers tightened around hers, their palms pressed together as the world around them seemed to fade, leaving only them.

Azzi’s gaze softened, her voice barely above a whisper. “What are you thinking about?” she asked, her words carrying a mix of curiosity and something darker, something that Paige could feel even before the question left her lips.

Paige, unable to look away, let a slow smile curl at the corners of her mouth. “You know exactly what I’m thinking about,” she said, her voice low.

Azzi’s smile widened, her eyes flickering with mischief and desire. “Take me home then,” she said, the words slipping from her lips like a secret, a command wrapped in temptation.

That was all it took.

Paige didn’t hesitate. She threw a couple of bills onto the table—definitely more than enough to cover the tab—and stood up. Both of them heading for Paige’s car with a little extra pep in their step.

…

Once they get to the suite, Azzi starts walking towards her room, but Paige grabs her hand pulling her towards her room that’s further from Ice’s, trying to spare the girl.

Azzi raises an eyebrow but doesn’t protest as she lets Paige lead her. As they step into Paige’s room she wastes no time shutting the door behind them and locking it.

Paige flicks on her led lamp to lightly illuminate the room and before she can gather her bearings, Azzi’s hands were on her, as she gently pushed her back against the door. Paige’s back hit it with a soft thud, her breath catching in her throat at Azzi’s confidence and her pulse quickening slightly as she met Azzi’s smile with a grin of her own. Azzi’s smile was a slow, teasing smile–one that made Paige feel like she was already a step behind in whatever was happening in Azzi’s head.

Azzi studied her for a moment, clearly enjoying the way Paige’s body seemed to melt at her touch. Without breaking eye contact, she reached for the buttons on Paige's cardigan, her fingers grazing the fabric as she slowly started unbuttoning it. "You always look so damn good," Azzi murmured, her voice soft but filled with heat. "You have no idea what you do to me. How you make me feel."

With each button undone, the white shirt underneath was revealed, the fabric clinging slightly to Paige’s frame, teasing Azzi. The room felt unbearably warm, and Paige was basically trembling, unsure if it was from desire or the intensity of Azzi's gaze.

Azzi stopped halfway through unbuttoning, her fingers still resting on the cardigan. "Tell me…" she whispered, leaning in close, her breath brushing against Paige's cheek. "What are you thinking about now?"

Paige’s breath hitched, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts, none of them coherent enough to form an answer. She could feel the heat of Azzi's body so close to hers, her lips barely brushing her ear with each whispered word. She couldn’t even formulate a response. She had never felt like this before, had never been the one with a loss of words.

Azzi smiled softly at Paige’s flustered expression, enjoying the way Paige’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink as she finished unbuttoning Paige’s sweater. With a deliberate slowness Azzi brushed the cardigan off Paige’s shoulders, letting it fall carelessly to the floor.

Her fingers trailed down Paige’s waist, coming to rest on her belt as she began undoing it as she watched Paige’s every reaction. Azzi's touch was firm but gentle, pulling Paige just slightly towards her, guiding them slowly toward the bed. Their eyes met, and in that moment, Azzi's gaze was soft but undeniably commanding, filled with an unspoken promise that sent a shiver down Paige’s spine.

“I want you,” Azz whispered, her voice low and laced with desire. “I want you to do whatever you want to me.”

Paige finally found her voice, her tone softer, almost vulnerable as she asked, “Are you sure?”

Azzi didn’t hesitate. Without a flicker of doubt in her eyes, she nodded, the softness of her gaze only intensifying the fire between them.

Azzi’s confirmation was all Paige needed as she immediately reached for Azzi, pulling her into a kiss that was equal parts tender and passionate, their breaths mingling as the moment consumed them. Azzi’s fingers, still toying with Paige’s belt, moved to undo it with an effortless confidence that made Paige’s pulse quicken.

Before she knew it, Paige was guiding Azzi backward the rest of the way toward the bed, her grip steady but filled with an unspoken urgency. Azzi smirked against Paige’s lips, letting herself be pushed down, her body melting into the mattress.

The sight of Paige standing above her, her belt now hanging open and her eyes completely dilated with want was enough to make Azzi bite her lip, her gaze also dark. Her hand found its way to Paige’s loose belt gently tugging Paige toward her. “Don’t make me wait anymore,” she teased, her voice dripping with desire.

Azzi watches as Paige takes off her jeans, never breaking eye contact. As soon as she’s done she’s climbing on the bed, hovering over Azzi as their lips meet again, this time softer but no less consuming, Each kiss feeling like a promise, a declaration as they become lost in one another.

Paige’s hands moved expertly, finding the edges of Azzi’s blazer. With a gentle tug, she slipped it off Azzi’s shoulder, her fingertips brushing against Azzi's warm skin. Azzi sat up slightly to help, her eyes never leaving Paige’s as the blazer fell away, leaving her in the cropped black shirt that clung to her frame tightly.

Paige’s breath caught for a moment as her gaze roamed over Azzi, her hands lightly tracing along the hem of her shirt. “You’re incredible,” Paige whispered, her voice tinged with awe.

Azzi smiles at Paige’s words, her expression soft at the girl on top of her. Without saying a word, she reached up, pulling Paige toward her again, capturing her lips in a kiss that was much more intense than the last.

The kiss grew heavier with each moment, Paige swiping her tongue across Azzi’s lips asking for access that Azzi immediately grants as the world outside the room fades away, their focus narrowing to just the two of them. Azzi’s hands roam Paige’s sides, her touch firm, sending jolts of excitement through Paige’s skin.

Azzi breaks the kiss briefly, pushing Paige slightly back with a playful smirk. Paige looked at her, breathless, as Azzi’s hands reached for the hem of her shirt. With a smooth motion, Azzi pulled the shirt over her head, tossing it aside before meeting Paige’s gaze again who had also quickly discarded her white shirt.

The sight of Azzi like this left Paige momentarily stunned. But before she could linger on the image too long trying to capture it for memory, Azzi pulled her back in, their lips meeting again matching the intensity right where they left off.

Azzi began making soft noises into Paige’s mouth, each sound sending a warmth through her body. It drove Paige absolutely crazy, her restraint slipping more and more with every passing second.

“Fuck Azzi,” Paige murmured, her voice low as she pulled back just enough to begin pressing her lips to Azzi’s neck. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

Azzi let out another quiet, breathy moan at the attention she was getting, her hands grabbing Paige’s waist as she tilted her head to the side granting Paige better access. “I think I do,” she whispered, her voice teasing but strained.

Paige’s lips and teeth worked along Azzi’s neck, her kisses alternating between soft and firm as she trailed down to the delicate curve where Azzi’s shoulder met her collarbone. Azzi’s hands slide up Paige’s back, pulling her impossibly closer. “Right there baby,” Azzi whispered, her voice breaking slightly as Paige’s lips and tongue lingered on a particularly sensitive spot.

“Shit you feel so good,” Azzi breathed, her words almost inaudible but thick with emotion.

Her voice was like music to Paige’s ears, the way it shook with every touch drove her to keep going. Paige’s lips curled into a slight smile against Azzi’s skin as she dragged her mouth lower, savoring the soft gasps and whispered encouragement Azzi continued to spill.

“Perfect,” Azzi murmured, when Paige’s lips met her waist. Her voice melted into something low and satisfied. “You’re perfect.”

Paige groaned softly at the words, her hands tightening on Azzi’s hips as she whispered back, “You’re killing me Azzi baby.”

Azzi laughed softly, though it was laced with breathlessness. “Then don’t hold back,” she murmured, her fingers tangling in Paige’s hair. “I don’t want you to.” Before Azzi could even process what she was asking for, the rest of her clothes were pulled off skilfully in a quick motion.

Paige’s actions fueled by Azzi’s words, every whispered encouragement and breathless murmur driving her as she finally gave Azzi exactly what she wanted, pouring every ounce of her desire and affection into her touch.

Azzi made sure Paige knew exactly how much she was enjoying every moment of it. Her voice a symphony of soft gasps, murmured praises, and loud moans, echoing through the room without a care for who might hear.

“Fuck baby…yes just like that,” Azzi said breathlessly, her hands threading through Paige’s hair, tugging lightly as her head titled back and her hips moved to reach Paige’s movements. “Don’t stop..please, don’t stop.”

Paige just hummed as she pressed closer, her lips and hands working in perfect rhythm, completely consumed by Azzi’s responses. Each sound Azzi made spurring her on more, her own restraint dissolving as she focused on the girl beneath her.

“You’re amazing,” Azzi murmured, her voice trembling with raw emotion, her nails grabbing Paige’s shoulders. “I need you, Paige. Just you.”

Paige’s heart raced at the confession, her fingers growing more intense as she kissed her way back to Azzi’s lips, capturing her in a passionate kiss that left them both breathless.

Azzi’s laughter bubbled up between gasps, a mix of pure joy and overwhelming sensation at the way Paige was touching her. “You’re going to make me lose my mind,” she admitted, her voice shaky but full of affection, her lips brushing against Paige’s as she spoke.

Paige’s fingers continued their rhythm inside Azzi, as her voice dipped into a tone so soft yet full of conviction. “You’re so beautiful,” she whispered, her words wrapping around Azzi. “Every part of you, Azzi…I could get lost in your forever.”

Azzi’s breath hitched at the sincerity in Paige’s voice, her chest rising and falling as she clung to the words. Paige didn’t stop there, leaning closer, her lips brushing against Azzi’s ear as she added, “You’re everything to me Az. So perfect. I promise you I’m only yours.”

The praise sent so much warmth through Azzi and she arched slightly, her head tilting back as her lips parted. “Paige..” she murmured her voice trembling with emotion. Azzi’s hands found their way to Paige’s back, holding onto her as if she were her anchor, grounding her in this moment.

Azzi’s gaze was unwavering, her brown eyes dark with passion yet soft with adoration. Paige’s blue eyes mirrored the same intensity, her pupils dilated as she took in every inch of the girl beneath her.

“You’re so fucking incredible,” Azzi whispered, her voice breathy but firm, her fingers digging into Paige’s skin as her fingers curled perfectly inside of her.

Azzi began trembling beneath Paige biting her lip trying to hold onto some resemblance of control, her body completely attuned to every touch, every word, the way their gaze was locked onto one another. Her breathing became uneven, her chest rising and falling as if she was trying to steady herself but kept failing. Her eyes fluttered shut, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all, but Paige wasn’t having it.

“Azzi,” Paige whispered, her voice low but commanding, her lips brushing against Azzi’s ear as she hovered over her. “Look at me,”

Azzi’s long lashes flickered as she tried to open her eyes but the feeling was too much for her. Paige’s free hand gently cupped her jaw, her thumb brushing over her cheek as she spoke again, this time softer but just as firm. “Open your eyes, Az. I want you to look at me while you finish for me baby.”

Azzi let out a shaky breath, her lids lifting slowly until their eyes met once more. The second their gazes locked it was like Azzi couldn’t take anymore as her mouth fell open, the sheer intimacy of the moment causing a sound to escape Azzi’s lips–louder and more unrestrained than she expected. It was uncharacteristically loud for someone usually so composed but she didn’t care. “God, baby right there... please Paige... don't…fuck please don’t stop,” every word laced with need and vulnerability before she’s throwing her head back coming undone for Paige.

Paige smiles at the sound of Azzi's voice as she leans in and kisses her slowly, their tongue tasting every part of each other as Paige's pace slows, just enough to make Azzi's body ache with the contrast. Azzi's breath comes in shallow gasps, every inch of her skin alive with need.

Paige’s lips curled into a soft, knowing smile, her thumb still stroking Azzi’s cheek. “You did so good for me,” she murmured, her words laced with affection and pride.

Azzi’s grip tightened on Paige’s back as she was still trying to anchor herself. Her voice trembled as she replied, “You… you’re going to ruin me, Paige.”

Paige leaned closer, her lips barely brushing against Azzi’s as she whispered, “I won’t baby, I got you. I promise.”

The exchange sent another wave of shivers through Azzi, her body arching instinctively toward Paige as she started moving again, unable to resist the pull between them. She looks up at Paige pleading for something-anything more.

Paige notices the way Azzi's body trembles under her, how her breath hitches every time she curls her fingers. Her voice drops, soothing but commanding, "Breathe, baby. Just breathe."

The words themselves are almost a command, but they're gentle, like a touch trying to calm the chaos in Azzi’s chest as it rises and falls rapidly, trying to obey, but she feels the pressure inside her building again, tighter this time. Paige's thumb presses into her as she continues her movements deliberate but slow, a stark contrast to how Azzi's body wants to react.

Paige can tell Azzi’s body is going into overdrive so she starts speaking to her. "Focus on me," Paige murmurs near Azzi’s ear, her voice smooth and low, sending ripples of warmth through Azzi. "Focus on your breathing. In and out, nice and slow." She moves her hand in small, measured circles, pushing Azzi right to the edge and pulling her back. "You're doing so good Azzi. Just breathe through it, baby. Let me guide you."

Azzi's entire body is trembling, her mind racing to keep up with the ebb and flow of pleasure. It feels like it's almost too much, but Paige's steady control-her voice, her hands keeps her grounded. The way she talks to her, calm but firm, drives Azzi crazy, and all she can do is follow, surrendering her body to the rhythm Paige has set.

"Tell me how it feels," Paige says, softly. "I wanna hear you some more for me baby."

Azzi opens her mouth, but no coherent words come out-only the sound of desperate, broken breaths as she forces herself to focus on Paige, her voice, her eyes, her touch.

"Feels... feels so good, Paige baby... I can't-" Her voice cracks, the tension too much to contain, but Paige doesn't speed up. She waits, her touch still steady.

"Good just like that baby. Breathe. You're almost there," Paige whispers, coaxing Azzi through it, her own voice filled with desire and pure admiration of the girl underneath her.

Azzi looks up at Paige, her eyes glazed over with need as she’s straining to keep them open. She trembles slightly, her voice barely a whisper as she murmurs, "P I can’t— I can't take anymore."

Paige’s hand shifts to lightly wrap around Azzi’s neck, gently but firmly guiding her gaze to her eyes, making sure she doesn’t look away. She squeezes slightly, her thumb brushing across Azzi’s skin as she speaks, her voice steady but soft, full of encouragement. “Yes, you can. Just relax baby. Let me make you feel good.”

Azzi nods, trying to steady her racing heart, her breaths shallow as she sinks into the rhythm of Paige's touch. As Paige squeezes again, Azzi’s hand moves to cover Paige’s, her fingers curling around hers, squeezing tighter as she gazes directly into Paige’s eyes. The sensation sparks something deep inside her, and without breaking eye contact, she whispers, "Harder, baby."

The words are a desperate plea, the intensity of her need clear in her voice. Paige’s eyes never leave Azzi’s as her breath hitches and the pressure builds. Azzi, feeling her body react, presses her hips closer to Paige’s movements, her chest rising and falling faster. “Fuck Paige right there, don’t stop,” Azzi breathes out, her voice low and almost frantic. “Mmm make me feel it baby, show me how much you miss fucking me.”

Paige tightens her grip, feeling Azzi’s pulse beneath her fingertips, and Azzi’s body continues to tremble with anticipation as Paige quickens her movements, fingers curling as she moves in and out of Azzi. Paige’s voice is low, almost teasing, as she murmurs, “You’re taking it so well baby fuck, you look so good under me.”

Azzi’s fingers curl tighter around Paige’s wrist, urging her on. “Yes, just like that,” Azzi whispers, her voice filled with a desire that only Paige can satisfy. “Harder, please Paige, don’t stop. You feel so good.”

Paige’s touch becomes more deliberate, the pressure firm and her movements unrelenting as Azzi’s breathing quickens. She feels the way Azzi’s body reacts, every tremble and sigh pushing her to give her more. Paige leans in, her lips brushing against Azzi’s ear as she whispers, “You’re so gorgeous baby, so perfect…I always knew how pretty you would sound.”

Azzi moans softly, unable to stop the sounds escaping her lips, each one more desperate than the last as Paige’s gaze burns into her. For a moment, neither of them speaks. The air between them thick a shared silence where only the sound of their heavy breathing and Paige’s fingers moving in and out of Azzi remains.

After a few more seconds, Azzi's body gives in, a burning release overtaking her body again as she arches her back off the bed. A chorus of breathless moans escaping her lips.

Paige's heart stirs at the sight as she removes her hand from Azzi’s neck immediately and without hesitation. She leans down, kissing her cheek gently as if she's taking away the last bit of tension that still clung to Azzi's body. She whispers, "God you're so beautiful Az. You mean everything to me," before leaning her lips down to Azzi's, their kiss soft, almost loving.

Azzi's eyes flutter shut, her hands coming down to wrap around Paige's head as she lets the kiss ground her. It's slow and tender and everything Azzi needs.

Paige starts kissing down Azzi’s body, ready to keep going but Azzi’s hand shoots out, gently but firmly stopping her. Her breath comes in shaky gasps as she looks at Paige with exhaustion and a small sight of desire. “Baby…I can’t. Physically… I can’t take anymore right now, I need a break.” She says, her voice strained, the edge of exhaustion clear.

Paige’s lips curl into a teasing smirk, the challenge in her eyes only growing more playful. Before she can say anything, Azzi—still struggling to catch her breath—manages a shaky smile and jokes, “Shut up, Paige. Seriously, just… shut up for a second."

Paige’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. “I’ll give you a break but I hope you can keep up because I plan on doing this all night,” she teased softly, her voice low and dripping with warmth.

Azzi responded with a quiet hum of agreement, her fingers tangling in Paige’s hair to pull her back into another soft slow kiss, one that carried all the unspoken promises of the night still ahead.

…

The next morning, Paige woke up groggily, the bright sunlight streaming through the window making it impossible to stay asleep. She stirred, trying to stretch, but stopped when she felt a comforting weight pinning her down. Azzi’s body was draped halfway over her, the other half sprawled across the bed. Paige couldn’t help but smile as her gaze landed on Azzi’s face, her soft features illuminated by the morning light.

A quiet laugh escaped Paige’s lips as she realized Azzi was definitely going to blame her for letting her fall asleep without her bonnet, she could already hear the teasing tone in her voice.

As if sensing Paige’s thoughts, Azzi began to stir, a groan slipping past her lips as she shielded her eyes from the sun. “Ugh, why is it so bright?” she mumbled, echoing Paige’s earlier thoughts.

Paige chuckled softly, shifting her body to block the sunlight from hitting Azzi’s face. “Better?” she asked gently, her voice warm and teasing.

When Azzi finally looked up at her, a sleepy smile spread across her face, her dimples appearing as her cheeks flushed slightly. “Good morning, pretty girl,” Paige said, her voice soft but filled with affection.

Azzi’s smile grew wider at the compliment, but she quickly tried to hide her face against Paige’s chest. “Mmm, too sleepy,” she mumbled, her voice muffled.

Paige laughed quietly and carefully shifted out from under Azzi, earning a small, dissatisfied grumble from her. She walked over to the window, pulling the blackout curtains closed and plunging the room into a comforting darkness.

As she returned to the bed, Azzi wasted no time, tugging Paige back down and pulling her close but before Paige could settle in, Azzi leaned up to press a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. Paige’s heart immediately fluttered at the tenderness of the moment, how casual Azzi was about it.

“Go back to sleep,” Azzi whispered, her words barely audible as she rested her head on Paige’s chest once more.

Paige wrapped her arms around Azzi, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and with Azzi’s steady breaths against her, Paige felt a sense of peace she hadn’t ever experienced. Slowly, they both drifted back to sleep as Paige realized she was completely in love with the girl laying on her chest.

#pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fics

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loverangels · 3 days ago

Text

enchanted

pairings: timothee chalamet x female reader

synopsis: your celebrity crush reveals his admiration for you and you can't help but tease him for it in your run in on the met gala

It was supposed to be a quiet day on set. Your latest project had been keeping you busy, and today was no different—costume fittings, script run-throughs, and a few late takes. The steady hum of activity kept you focused, but when you returned to your trailer for a break, your phone was blowing up.

Texts from friends, a slew of Instagram notifications, and several unread emails. Confused, you opened one from your manager, the subject line simply reading: You’ll want to see this.

It was a clip.

Timothée Chalamet, sitting comfortably on a late-night talk show, was in the middle of one of his now-infamous animated interviews. His laughter filled the screen, infectious and boyish, and for a brief moment, you smiled, charmed by him like everyone else.

But then the question came.

"So, Timothée, who’s your celebrity crush?"

The audience whooped, the host leaned in with a knowing grin, and Timothée, trying to play it cool, gave a little shrug.

He hesitated, his fingers running through his tousled curls in that effortless way only he could pull off. And then, with a tiny, almost bashful smile, he said your name.

Your actual name.

You froze.

The host’s mouth fell open, clearly not expecting it. "Really? Her?"

Timothée’s cheeks flushed pink, but he nodded. "Yeah, I mean, she’s incredible. Just ridiculously talented, you know? And beautiful, obviously. But she just seems..." He trailed off, his hands moving as if to grab the words out of the air. "...Like, really cool. Smart. Genuine. I don’t know, there’s something about her."

You watched the clip in stunned silence, replaying it again. And again. And again.

The internet was already in flames. Tweets, TikToks, and Instagram edits were flooding your notifications. Fans were losing their minds. You didn’t even have time to process how you felt about it.

---

A Week Later: The Met Gala

The Met Gala red carpet was chaos in the best way. Flashing cameras, booming voices, and the rush of silk, sequins, and couture gowns swept around you. You moved down the carpet like you’d done a hundred times before—posing for photos, answering questions, and offering polite smiles to everyone who crossed your path.

But tonight was different. You could feel it.

The buzz in the air, the way reporters whispered to each other before approaching you. It wasn’t hard to figure out why.

“Has Timothée seen you yet?” a cheeky journalist asked as you posed, their microphone in your face.

You laughed it off, tilting your head. "I have no idea," you replied, trying to keep your voice light. "But I think that’s the question of the night, huh?"

You moved on quickly, your heart hammering in your chest. The thought of running into him tonight had lingered in the back of your mind all week, but now, as the moment seemed to inch closer, the reality of it hit you.

And then it happened.

You felt it before you saw him—the weight of his gaze. Turning slightly, your eyes met his, and everything else seemed to blur out of focus.

He looked... breathtaking. A perfectly tailored avant-garde suit hugged his lean frame, the kind only he could make look effortlessly cool. His hair was swept back just enough to still be messy, and his lips curled into a soft, almost shy smile as he walked toward you.

The cameras went berserk.

He stopped just a foot away, his eyes never leaving yours. "Hey," he said, his voice low and familiar, as though you weren’t surrounded by hundreds of people and a sea of flashing lights.

"Hey," you replied, your throat suddenly dry.

He hesitated, his hands tucked into his pockets as he glanced around. "So... I feel like I should apologize."

You raised an eyebrow, your lips tugging into a smile. "For what?"

"For accidentally turning your life into a circus," he said, his grin sheepish, his cheeks tinged with the faintest hint of red.

You laughed softly, the sound cutting through your nerves. "It’s fine. If anything, you gave my publicist a new hobby. Crisis management is her favorite thing."

His laugh was boyish and genuine, and for a moment, it was just the two of you.

"You really do look amazing," he said after a beat, his voice softer now. His eyes traced the intricate details of your gown like he wanted to memorize it.

"So do you," you replied, and then, feeling a little bold, you added, "Though I guess you don’t need me to tell you that."

He chuckled, shifting slightly closer. "Not true. Compliments mean a lot more when they’re coming from you."

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, and you were thankful for the dimmed lights that kept the moment from feeling too exposed.

Before either of you could say more, a handler appeared at Timothée’s side, gently reminding him he had to finish the carpet.

He glanced at them, then back at you, clearly reluctant to leave. "Guess I’ll see you inside?"

"Maybe," you teased.

As he turned to go, he shot you one last look over his shoulder, his eyes glinting with something you couldn’t quite name. Excitement, maybe. Or curiosity.

And as the night wore on, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was far from over.

#fem!reader #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet imagine #timothée chalamet #timothee chamalet #timothee fanfic #timothee x reader #timothee x you #timothee chalamet #timothee fluff

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slaymitchabernathy · 2 days ago

Text

Silent Night

Coriolanus strides through the halls with triumph. December came and went, taking all of those frivolous decorations with it. Good, he had thought when watching the Avoxes disassemble the Christmas tree, less clutter to fill the house with.

His wife hadn't exactly shared his enthusiasm for the dismissal of the holidays but her feelings weren't really that important to him.

She was here to make him happy and give him children, not give out her opinions on how he ran his household.

"We could start here," Quintus suggests, pointing at the library, "and then move into the ballroom for the photographs."

With a new year comes new photos that need to be taken, a rather annoying task to land on his desk but Coriolanus approaches it with the same diligence he does with anything else. Finding spots to take said photographs in the cold winter has proven to be more difficult though.

"Maybe," is all he says, his attention already drawn to a white ball of fluff running towards him. His lips curl upwards into what could possibly be a smile as his wife's kitten runs up to him.

Petunia, as Soarynn named her, is a little ball of energy, constantly meowing and running around. Coriolanus is glad that he's remained firm in keeping her out of their bedroom because he can't imagine trying to sleep with her constant noise. It's bad enough that she cries from outside their bedroom door.

It had clearly broken Soarynn's heart to hear her kitten crying. She had given Coriolanus her best pouting face the first night they had her before sweetly asking if Petunia could be let in. Coriolanus had grabbed her chin and sweetly told her that she could either sleep with him in their bed, or sleep on the floor with Petunia out in the hall.

Needless to say, Soarynn hasn't asked for Petunia to be let in since.

Soarynn is right behind her kitten, wearing the pink dress he picked out for her today. She's smiling as she chases after her kitten who comes to a stop in front of Coriolanus, batting at his shoe. He steps to the side, not wanting to become a victim of those small claws, "Petunia," Soarynn calls, "Petunia come back."

Petunia has a pink ribbon wrapped around her neck today, standing out from her white fur and she looks up at Coriolanus, letting out a meow. Coriolanus stares down at her, not entirely impressed by this behavior. To her credit, Soarynn has been training her but kittens seem to have a mind of their own, unfortunately.

"I taught her new tricks," Soarynn says breathlessly once she reaches them. Quintus raises an eyebrow, "Tricks? My dear, a cat cannot be taught tricks like a dog."

Coriolanus nods in agreement, dogs are hard enough to train but cats are stubborn with ideas of their own.

But Soarynn shakes her head with a determined look on her face, "No, no she does know tricks! Let me show you. Petunia, sit."

Petunia remains standing, very interested in the laces of his leather shoes.

Soarynn huffs, "Petunia, sit."

Petunia looks up at her owner, not at all willing to listen, and leans down on her front paws, stretching.

Quintus chuckles and Coriolanus shakes his head, "I swear she just did it," Soarynn mumbles, slouching in defeat, "she knows how to sit."

Petunia runs over to Soarynn and rolls onto her back, asking to be pet. Soarynn sighs and bends down, scooping up the small kitten, "Perhaps you should focus your time on teaching her how to use the litter box instead," Coriolanus reminds her, "and maybe get her to shut up when we're trying to sleep."

Soarynn frowns but she doesn't dare say anything against his suggestions, "We should go," Quintus says, "the war department still needs us to go over the new plans."

Coriolanus hums and reaches out to grab Soarynn's chin, something he loves to do to remind her of who's in charge, "Be good while I'm gone darling," he tells her, his words laced with threats if she doesn't behave.

Soarynn swallows, eyes blown wide in fear of any reprimands, "I will be," she whispers. Coriolanus chuckles and leans down to kiss her, enjoying how she stiffens from his touch. She hasn't acted out since he locked her in the greenhouse but he's been looking for the smallest mistake ever since. There's a sick part of him that enjoys punishing Soarynn, watching those crystal tears fall from her glassy eyes.

They go their separate ways but Coriolanus keeps thinking back to the ribbon tied around Petunia's neck, how simple yet enticing it looked, and how it would look wrapped around Soarynn's neck instead.

He'll have to work on that.

꧁ ꧂

"Open it, darling," he encourages, watching Soarynn sit on their bed, a pink box in front of her.

He got home about an hour ago, still left with things to do but he managed to secure her a gift during his time away from home.

Soarynn gives him a nervous smile as she lifts the lid up and he can see the confusion on her face when she sees what's inside of it.

A collar.

Red leather with a gold tag on it.

"This is, this is too big for Petunia," she softly tells him, her eyes filled with innocence while they look up at him. Coriolanus smiles at his sweet little wife, so dumb and clueless, "It's not for her," he explains, "read the tag."

Soarynn hesitantly reaches for the collar and reads the tag. Coriolanus drinks in the way her expression changes from curiosity to dread.

"What does it say?"

Soarynn opens her mouth to answer him but is at a loss for words is seems. Coriolanus reaches out and rests a hand on top of her head, "Tell me what it says, darling."

He can see her fighting back the tears of both humiliation and frustration, "It says, 'Property of Coriolanus Snow'," she whispers. Coriolanus nods, pleased she's able to read what's been engraved onto the tag, "And who is it for?"

Soarynn sniffles, a single tear rolls down her cheek, "It's for me."

Coriolanus smiles widely, ruffling her hair, "Good girl, it's for you. Let's put it on hmm? Make sure it fits you."

Soarynn remains frozen on the bed while he takes the collar from her hands, unbuckling it with ease, "Come sit at your vanity," he instructs, already walking towards Soarynn's vanity she often sits at to get ready for bed. He watches through the mirror as she slides off the bed, her head hung low in shame. She silently sits down on the vanity stool and Coriolanus gathers her hair in his hand, pulling it away from her face so he can slip the collar around her neck.

"Hold it there for me," he says. Soarynn finally looks at her reflection and she looks mortified. But she does as he says, holding the collar against her skin while his fingers deftly work on sliding the strap through the buckle, securing it through the correct notch.

Soarynn lets go of the collar and it sits perfectly on her dainty neck. The red looks great on her skin and the golden tag shines brightly. Coriolanus chuckles, slipping a finger under the leather, "Not too tight see? Perfect fit."

Her bottom lip trembles and she's so close to breaking he can taste it.

Coriolanus rests his hands on her shoulders, pushing down the straps of her nightgown, baring her breasts, "Look how pretty you look," he coos, "my good girl. Do you like it?"

Soarynn nods her head even though they both know that she hates it. She fucking hates it and she probably hates him too. That's okay though, he doesn't need her to love him.

Coriolanus perks up as if suddenly remembering something. "Oh, it completely slipped my mind, let me go get the leash."

That's all it takes to send Soarynn over the edge.

She breaks into tears, sobbing with the collar still around her throat. She folds her arms on the vanity's surface and rests her head on them, crying so loudly that he can hear every gasp, every sniffle, every sob.

She's humiliated and rightfully so.

It brings him great joy to see her like this.

He feigns a sympathetic tone, "Darling what's wrong? Do you not like the color?" He slides his hands down her bare back, ignoring how she flinches from his cold touch, attempting to bring her fake comfort.

Soarynn whimpers, still not lifting her head, "Let me go get the leash," he tells her, "you'll feel better once I get the leash."

Coriolanus walks into their closet, a shit-eating grin on his face. Soarynn has been good but something like this is exactly what she needs to remind her of her place.

He finds the red leash right where he left it and grabs it, wrapping the leather around his knuckles. He comes out and finds Soarynn struggling to breathe while she tries to take the collar off, red in the face, looking at her pitiful reflection.

"Oh darling, it stays on," he tells her, playing dumb, "it doesn't come off unless I want it to."

Soarynn frantically shakes her head, trying to undo what he's done but she can't see what she's doing through her tears and she's far too frantic to do anything right now but listen to him. Coriolanus sighs and walks back over to her, the leash dangling in his grip, her eyes immediately lock onto it and she whimpers, trying to move away but he grabs her before she gets the chance.

"Hold still," he orders, keeping one hand on the collar while the other clips the leash onto the ring that holds the golden tag, "there we go, much better."

Soarynn says nothing.

Her tears have dried and her eyes are red and bloodshot. She looks miserable, just as he likes her.

He tugs on the leash, jerking her head to the side, "On the floor darling," he says, pulling harder, "on your hands and knees for me."

He doesn't let her have any say in the matter, he just pulls so hard that she falls off the stool with a yelp, collapsing onto the floor. She lies there, not making any effort to give up with her pretty little face inches away from his shiny leather shoes her cat tried to play with earlier today.

A horrible, evil idea crosses his mind and he smirks, "I think your kitten scratched my shoes today, why don't you clean them for me?"

Soarynn pushes herself up with shaky hands and trembling breaths, staring down at his shoes, "Clean them," he repeats, pulling on the leash until she's almost choking. Soarynn looks up at him, unable to look anywhere else but into her husband's dark, brooding eyes, "Put that tongue of yours to use and clean them Soarynn."

He loosens his grip on her leash and Soarynn lowers her head, staring down at his shoes and she wipes her nose with the back of her hand, still sniffling.

Then, with shame and burning humiliation, she leans down to his shoes and he watches her little pink tongue lick the leather surface. It's an all too erotic sight to witness, Soarynn on her hands and knees, collared with a leash while licking the shoes he wore today.

It's even better when her nightgown rides up her hips, showing off her cute little ass with the pink lacy thong she wore tonight. He might need to get her a tail too, to match with her collar and leash.

He lets her lick both of his shoes for a few minutes, making sure that she's burning with shame by the time he decides that she's done. He pulls on the leash, lifting her face away from his shoes and he walks over to the armchair he likes to sit in when winding down for the night. It's by the fireplace and he often has a drink while reading a book to relax.

Soarynn has no choice but to follow him, literally on her hands and knees. He looks down at her and decides that if she had a tail, it would be between her legs right now. Her head is hung in shame and Coriolanus sits down with a groan. It's been a long, tiring day and this is just what he needed to unwind.

Soarynn comes to a stop right in front of him and she makes for a gorgeous picture. Coriolanus spreads his legs and tugs her closer, enjoying the gasp that leaves her lips. He keeps a tight grip on the leash, pulling her closer and closer until her face is right by his covered cock, already hard from watching her walk around like a fucking dog.

Soarynn finally looks up at him, he can see how angry she is, how humiliated and betrayed she is by his actions. He sighs and runs a hand over her head, "Oh darling, don't look at me like that," he tuts, "you always talk about being my good girl so I thought we could put that to the test."

Soarynn doesn't say anything but she doesn't need to, those stormy eyes of hers speak more than words.

She looks so glorious like this, on her knees for him, face stained with tears.

"Now I've had a long day," he says, reaching over to the table next to the chair where he always leaves his book, "so why don't you make yourself useful while I read, hmm?"

If looks could kill, he'd be a dead man.

But Soarynn knows better than to bite back, especially when he's displayed that he has no issue treating her like a fucking animal. He can always get his little bitch a muzzle if needed.

Coriolanus taps her nose, a less forgiving look in his eyes, "Put that mouth of yours to use before I leave you outside for the night," he threatens, smirking at how quickly Soarynn goes to unbutton his pants. He helps her by lifting his hips so that she can pull down his pants and boxers, letting his cock spring free. He doesn't let her give him blowjobs often but he has to with her looking like this.

"No hands," he instructs when she goes to stroke his length, "just keep it in your pretty mouth."

Soarynn swallows, Coriolanus had been blessed in length and girth and he's quite difficult to take in her small mouth but he wants to see her drooling over his cock by the time he's done reading.

So, ever so slowly, Soarynn takes him into her mouth until she literally can't fit any more of him in her mouth and throat. She gags for only a second before she somewhat relaxes, resting her head on his thigh.

Coriolanus opens his book to where he left off, keeping her leash tightly wrapped around his hand while he reads. It's the perfect way to end his night. He glances over the pages of his book every so often to see Soarynn in her dumbed-down state, mouth full of cock and eyes closed.

After this he'll fuck her, keeping the leash and collar on of course.

She'll think twice about talking back to him after this, and he'll make sure that she works on keeping Petunia quiet while they sleep or this will become a regular occurrence for them.

He'll do anything to guarantee a silent night.

| Part 2. | Final Part |

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

| taglist: @strawberriicakes @wonderlandbound111 @kickmybark @villiansarehottest @thevoicesinmyprettylittlehead @melodyoflovee @erensrealgf |

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inthewings-ofthedragonking · 2 months ago

Note

(From the @robotic-remission-pkmn account)

... METAL SONIC ARE YOUR- SPEECH PROCESSORS RUNNING PROPERLY...?

MMM...

MAYBE I SHOULD VISIT.

LATER...

MY INSIDES ARE STILL RECOVERING FROM FIGHTING INTENSE HEAT-

//For mod context. Metal fought someone with a Primal Groudon. Metal's insides didn't do too well- it got fixed but they're dealing what I would call a 'Robotic after burn'

I Dont Know

What

Why

How

#{burdened with power not their own - answers}#au #aus #alternate universe #pokemon #metal sonic #sonic the hedgehog #sonic au #((lol it argued with a lizard))#((i looked over the most recent posts L to the lizard))#((also poor girl's going all nonverbal from the depression. 5 stages of grief babyyyyy i just realized that yesterday))#((she's been in denial for a *while* and then the halloween meltdown was anger))#((lying in the snow hoping mr tinker would come for her was bargaining. and then he didn't.))#((she's trying her best to keep having words but it's really hard))

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writerpeach · 1 month ago

Text

Extracurricular Activititties

aespa Karina x m!reader

16k words

Part Two of Fantastic Breasts and Where to Find Them

“Nothing like a little fresh air to start the day off, right, sweetie?”

You can’t say you agree.

But Karina has a certain way of convincing you to go for an early morning jog when she shows up in the kitchen—wearing a pair of tight leggings that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination, along with a skimpy tank top, gray and low-cut, no bra underneath, that insane chest the center of attention.

The exact word she uses is jog, but it’s a brisk walk at best, given you're far too out of shape for anything more. You're not even sure that exercise is the goal here—when every step she takes is a chance for her breasts to jiggle underneath this skimpy, poor excuse for athletic attire and claim your attention.

Not to mention it's cold—not quite freezing, but not the ideal jogging weather, and you swear she's doing this just to rile you all up. Especially when her nipples are practically poking straight through the thin fabric which has you straining to keep your eyes from wandering too much.

There aren’t many bodies out this early when the weather gets like this, but that doesn't mean Karina isn't the center of attention even from a distance. Her face alone gets people staring, and you know firsthand how difficult it is to keep your eyes from drifting down to those ridiculous tits and that useless stretched-out piece of fabric that hardly conceals her bouncing chest.

The entire walk feels borderline torturous when all you can think about is what's waiting underneath those clothes, so you look away at anything you can find—leaves falling from a tree, a bird flying, the license plate of a parked car you try to memorize.

Nothing seems to help.

"You're staring, sweetie."

"Me? No clue what you're talking about," you lie, avoiding her alluring eyes altogether when she glances back with a knowing little smirk.

"Yeah, you are. My ass, maybe? Enjoying the view?” Karina asks, as if she isn't fully aware of all the attention she's gotten with her top hanging loose, nipples nearly exposed, looking like sin itself.

"It's hard to not notice how pretty you are, Karina," you reply. She giggles and bumps her hip into you, nearly sending you flying.

"Am I distracting you, sweetheart?" she asks with this faux innocent tone, because the smile she wears can't mask her intent—

"Something like that," you mumble in response.

"Well, someone’s not subtle. It's almost too cute, seeing how hard you try to not stare at my tits."

"Can you really blame me? They're practically spilling out."

"Oh, are they? Haven’t even noticed,” she says, cupping them through the loose top, as if wanting to push her nipples through the fabric to further tantalize. "Or maybe that's the point—to see how flustered you'd get, trying to keep your eyes away. Guess I didn't overestimate your weakness."

"You're insane. It's freezing out here."

"Me, insane? Maybe—for your dick."

You're more than a little embarrassed to hear such blunt words coming from Karina's sweet lips in the open, as if there’s no chance that others can't hear everything as they walk past.

But Karina just laughs, so carefree, not having any concerns as she turns around and jogs backwards, forcing you to look directly at those bouncing tits and the hypnotizing bounce they create with every step. "I'm just trying to get the blood flowing. You think I actually wanted to go out for a run? I don't even own a sports bra, sweetie. I get more than enough exercise from you railing me every day."

The embarrassment worsens to hear her talk like this, but the blush creeping on your face goes unnoticed as you both head back home. It takes a short time before you're pushing the front door wide open, walking inside from a brisk, chilly breeze to the comfortable warmth of the shared apartment.

And suddenly your back is flat up against the door before you have the chance to kick your shoes off. "What are you—"

"Hush." One word is all Karina has to tell you, silencing any incoming words from your lips as she pins you against the wooden surface, grabbing an unexpected handful of your cock right through your sweatpants. "Seems like it worked after all—seeing how hard you've gotten just by looking at my chest. Feels like you're fucking throbbing, sweetheart.”

"Fucking hell—" The groan slips out when Karina squeezes your cock through the fabric, leaving you helpless to her will as she presses forward, pinning you further. You don’t say another word while her lips claim your neck, her tongue swiping across the sensitive skin.

"What are you gonna do with this big cock, I wonder? Hard as a fucking rock, and we haven't even done a thing."

"What else do you think? You're gonna let me fuck those big tits of yours."

Karina beams with satisfaction and slips a hand inside your pants, getting a better grip to fully feel the arousal of your length that aches in her fingers. "Good choice."

Those pretty lips find a place against your own and press deep, holding you there to trap you, one hand stroking your length, giving soft, constant pumps to make sure you're every bit as hard as can be. Karina isn't planning on teasing, not when she can get you nice and ready while the taste of her lips lingers. "Getting so worked up, aren't you, sweetheart? You’re so sensitive—so fucking hard."

"All thanks to your help." You get a cute laugh out of her from that as she drags you towards the living room, eager to speed things along. Your head is spinning, cock aching for more while she stops in the middle of the room with a smile across her angelic face.

"Be a good boy and sit."

Following her orders, you kick your shoes off and throw them aside, taking a seat on the couch. "I'm not a dog, Rina."

"Never said you were," she replies, peeling her tank top off over her head, until those huge, heavy tits bounce free that you know so well. Nothing could steal your gaze away from this perfection, the way her chest jiggles from the slightest movement, mesmerizing to look at. "You're more like a cute, needy little puppy."

You'd be annoyed at her little remark, if not for the stunning view as she takes a seat on your lap, topless, straddling you. And once you have those massive breasts right in front of your face, inches away, all the irritation is easily ignored.

All else is forgotten, your hands moving automatically to reach up and cup them. They're soft, with a satisfying weight that makes her give a little chuckle when you fondle them. "You always act like it's the first time you're seeing them."

"Feels that way," you answer, squeezing a good, generous handful, enjoying the warmth, the heaviness pressing against your palm. It's fucking heaven, and then some, the sensation of your fingers sinking into that heavenly flesh, those stiffening nipples begging for attention. “Your tits are so amazing, Rina. So goddamn big—so perfect.”

The praise does something to her. You can see it in her flushed cheeks and a hint of a shy grin forming. A rare sight, coming from Karina, who always acts so damn confident all the time.

She watches you closely, enjoying the attention you lavish her bare breasts with, how you squeeze them together, massage them and just play with her chest as you like.

"It's really that easy to shut you up, isn't it?" Karina can barely finish before those words dissolve into nothing but a small gasp once your fingers pinch and tug her sensitive nipples, watching in pleasure how stiff they get. And there's no denying the addiction you've picked up, this utter obsession to bury your cock deep between those beautiful milky tits until you can't handle anymore, shooting such massive streaks of thick cum that look so good all over her.

Her mouth falls wide open at your not-so-gentle touch, every sharp tug of stiff buds eliciting a moan. Just the sight of her drives you wild—her supple breasts look fucking delicious, nipples so sensitive and responsive, and you don’t think you’ll ever get enough of them as the weight rests in your palms.

"Come on, don't stop there." Karina pleads in your ear, encouraging you to keep it going, these violent squeezes she's all too receptive to on the daily. "You look so hungry for these fucking tits. Go ahead, suck on them, sweetie. I know you're dying to."

Leaning back, Karina lets you have what's rightfully yours, with a proud expression etched on her face while you have your way. The angle is perfect for a messy trail of kisses that move across her pale, creamy flesh, tracing a blue vein along the way, tasting the beads of sweat forming on her delicious chest.

It's the start of something even better—a greedy path that travels all across until your mouth finally finds its proper place, sealing right onto one of those stiff nipples, giving a lewd slurp that makes Karina react with a pleasant gasp.

"Mm, fuck—such a good boy," she coos in your ear while you devour her chest, teasing the perfect buds that get so excited in response to all this attention. Her hand rests on the back of your head, stroking your hair gently as your mouth remains locked on a breast. Karina just watches you work, attentively studying the way your teeth nibble, how hungrily you suckle, how utterly depraved you must look.

"God, Karina, your tits, these perfect fucking tits—"

The words slip out almost against your own volition before you latch onto her other nipple and give the same treatment, equally desperate, suckling until saliva drips down the corner of your mouth, her encouraging whimpers everything that fuels your arousal.

“There you go, suck on those tits, they’re all yours,” Karina says, voice a bit shaky while your ravenous mouth gives a gentle nibble around the hardened nub between your lips. "Make sure you take care of them both, sweetheart.”

And honestly, how could you not—

Letting them both slide between your lips, such lewd noises come out of your mouth when switching between them, an absolute feast that has no end. Nothing could stop you from doing this for hours, forever even, this delicious fucking pair the best meal you’ve ever had, with these pretty nipples doused in spit, all slippery. But there’s only one thing better than your mouth all over—and Karina knows exactly what.

"You about ready to get that cock between them?" she asks while you suck and slurp so frantically, but you’re unable to answer with your mouth so full of her heavy tits, devouring them like you’re starved. And once you do finally let them drop, she uses the weight to smother you, a moment you're happy to lose yourself in, pinned there with your face buried in her cleavage.

This is as good as it gets, you think, when all you can see is pale flesh covering your vision, just silently pleading for Karina to suffocate you with those plentiful breasts. It’s a moment that lasts far less than you’d like, only to see that expression on her face as she regretfully lets you come up for air.

"Do you even have to ask? Rina, please—I need to fuck these tits so bad. I’ve never been more ready.”

The answer leaves her so smug when she slips herself out of your lap, the rest of your clothes tugged away in a flash. Karina is already down on her knees without a single thought, chest level at the perfect height when she sits back on her heels. That sultry look on her face is to die for, big tits jutting out, full and swollen, mouth-watering as can be.

"Do you want me to blow you first? Or do you want these tits instead?"

"Karina, baby—" you groan at how she toys with you, squeezing the sensitive head with a devious smirk written all over her sinful features. "Your tits. Your beautiful tits, that's all I fucking want."

She giggles at that and runs the swollen head of your cock all over her breasts, slapping it against the jiggly flesh, before ending with a light little graze over a hardened nipple while you get more and more restless. But Karina lets your desperation sink in, staying patient herself as those pretty eyes gaze at your reaction, drinking in the look on your face—

"Hand me the bottle in the side table. The one with strawberries on it," she requests. You’re a bit confused at first, but go ahead and reach out across the cushions to open the drawer, digging out what she asks for—something you didn’t even know existed.

It's this small bottle of clear liquid with tiny red strawberry shapes all over the label, and it doesn't take a genius to understand what this is for.

Karina flips open the cap, leaning in, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Without a word, she tilts the bottle, pouring the oil all over her chest in agonizingly slow drizzles, filling the room up with the scent of strawberries. It's nothing but erotic; a daze falling over you while she shifts to get comfortable—on her knees, back straight, making sure those huge breasts look as enticing as possible while she watches in amusement.

Once that abundant chest has gotten the attention and coverage needed, she pours out more into her palms, her delicate hands all slippery when she strokes your aching shaft.

"Yizhuo bought this one for me, I think, for my last birthday. Told me it would smell nice. But she has no idea what I've been saving it for..."

"Lucky me.”

“Lucky, lucky you,” Karina repeats, emphasizing it by shaking her chest, the delicious jiggle so hypnotic, and the sheen created by the strawberry-scented liquid sets your desires ablaze. It has your cock hardening impossibly so, and you can only imagine how this will feel, given how soft they are to begin with, now all slick and slippery.

One more drizzle for good measure, right down the valley between her heavy breasts, and the anticipation alone is killing you. “There we go. Now let's have some fun.”

Before you have the chance to reply, Karina takes your cock, stiff as could be, trapping it between her slippery breasts, nestled right within her cleavage. A sharp groan is all it takes to register the amazing feeling—sinking right into the pillowy softness.

And Karina indulges, sliding the weight of those oily tits along your shaft, giving all this delicious friction you've been yearning for.

“Shit—feels so good,” you groan as those heavy tits work their way down your shaft. They swallow every last inch, disappearing entirely through that slippery cleavage, this relentless slide up and down that has you reeling.

“Good, because they look perfect around your huge cock."

Karina says little more, her large breasts doing the talking as she squeezes them tighter, the slickness making all the friction between them even easier for your cock to glide through. You're left fucking breathless at how her tits completely engulf, and how your shaft disappears, all covered in massage oil, glistening every time it reappears.

The deepening pressure does wonders for your aching cock, and the stimulation is unreal—Karina’s full lips form into a pretty smile while she grinds her chest, finding the utmost satisfaction in seeing you lose it.

"Sweetie," Karina purrs, looking so pleased. Your breaths are shallow, and she pays no mind, focused fully on squeezing your dick so firmly between those soft, bouncy breasts. "Tell me. Tell me how this feels."

"So fucking good, Rina—never felt anything like it. Your huge fucking tits are driving me crazy." You lean back, cock sandwiched between her full chest, and just let out these desperate groans as you drown in lust.

All without having to do a thing but sit and enjoy the view of your favorite place to be.

Karina revels in how crazy she drives you, and there's little point in hiding it—your face says it all. You can hardly get anything out that isn’t a loud grunt or groan.

"How long can you last, sweetie? You’re throbbing like crazy,” she teases, and it’s less a question, more of a challenge—either way, you have no chance here, fighting the pleasure rising, boiling inside. And Karina knows, she can see the weakness all over, a smugness present when she pushes those mounds tighter together, not daring to let your leaking shaft escape.

"Fuck," you curse, bucking your hips almost involuntarily, losing yourself in the warmth of her breasts, overwhelmed with how slick and fucking heavenly it all is.

“Wanna help a girl out?” Karina offers, knowing your limits are growing shorter by the second. Your answer is simple, and you grab her shoulders without a second thought, thrusting upwards, fucking those gorgeous tits with everything you have. The sight is almost too much—seeing your shaft plunge into the slippery depths of her chest, disappearing again and again, enveloped in all this pale, creamy flesh.

"Must feel so fucking good. You've been wanting to fuck these tits so badly that you can't even speak, poor thing," Karina tells you, her eyes watching intently while you thrust wildly with all this vigor. The urge grows as you chase your climax, cock begging to burst as you drive right between the huge mounds, a frantic rhythm only hastening while that lust dominates.

"Keep it up. Just like this, sweetie, keep that big cock right between these perfect tits," she purrs, and no longer is Karina doing most of the work—strawberry oil-covered breasts on either side and your throbbing cock in between.

You won't last another minute at this rate.

Karina loves how desperate you get, the utter control she has while you give into your carnal desires, unable to do a single thing other than bury your hard cock as deeply into that beautiful cleavage as possible, not a thought on your mind beyond emptying your balls.

"I hope this feels as good as it looks, sweetheart," her honeyed voice adds, just heightening the desperation. You can hardly even think straight, an aching urge like no other, and you can already picture how good Karina is going to look covered in your hot cum.

Just a few more pumps are all you have left, and Karina moves her slick breasts along your cock to speed things up. Not that you need any additional help in reaching that goal, because the next stroke might be your last.

"Shit, Rina—these fucking tits," you stutter out, breath strained, balls tight as you brace for release.

"Too much to handle? Let it all out, baby, blow that load all over these big tits.”

There's no stopping what's about to happen—the constant throbs of your cock pumping away in between these glistening breasts tells you there's no hope, and the grip you hold on Karina tightens, pulling her forward to trap your stiff shaft even further.

“Gonna fucking cover you—"

All this pressure building, threatening to erupt at a moment's notice, and there's only a single word from her mouth, prompting that inevitable release.

“Sweetie.“

One last squeeze does the trick—with a single pump of your cock between her tits, you cum. Harder than ever before, the thickness shooting so forcefully, spilling all over and painting a canvas of creamy streaks from between Karina's slick, heavy mounds.

Her expression softens at the sticky mess spilling everywhere. It's one powerful burst after the next, but Karina milks as much as she can, applying a firmer grip, her fingers massaging gently, urging more of those messy spurts from your sensitive tip.

Every last drop is rightfully hers—that pale skin gets splattered and glazed, creamy white streaks filling up her cleavage. A streak hits her chin, while most of it lands on her chest, just as intended, leaving behind a huge mess you've been desperate to give.

And Karina looks so satisfied, admiring the scene she helped create—all that milky seed, thick streaks clinging to her breasts and the rest just dripping lazily while your sensitive shaft still twitches. She holds you there in her grip for as long as she can, just for those lingering spasms, never taking her eyes off even as you start to falter.

"Good boy," she finally coos while you give a couple more lazy pumps, smearing what remains onto her heaving breasts.

Despite your exhaustion, Karina's enthusiasm to display herself with the results of your climax smeared all over her enormous chest doesn't fade. She’s far from shy, lifting those messy, covered breasts and showing every detail, every streak of hot white.

"Guess we should thank Yizhuo for such a thoughtful gift, wouldn't you say, sweetie?"

You can hardly muster a nod, slumping back against the pillows of the couch and panting hard as you try to stay conscious—her huge, perfect tits drenched in your load the only thing keeping you upright.

"Hey, don't pass out on me now," she warns, giving your sensitive dick a few strokes, letting the feeling snap you awake, the overstimulation too much to bear. "We're not done yet, are we?"

Your answer doesn't come quick enough—she laughs a bit while giving another few lazy strokes to your spent cock. "Jesus, Rina. You make me cum that hard and expect me to go again?"

"Mhmm," she giggles, shimmying down her skintight leggings until they fall down around her ankles, leaving nothing else but thin, pink-lace panties that get tugged down and kicked off in record time. Your balls can’t be completely empty already. Since when has one round ever been enough?"

You can’t exactly argue that, not when there's nothing left to stand in the way as your eyes feast upon Karina's bare cunt, her legs parting, exposing everything and just spreading the slightest bit so you can have this delicious sight of her body in its full glory.

"I'll give you a few minutes. Or are you telling me you don't wanna get balls deep in me? If so, I'll just take care of myself, I guess."

That's an empty threat if you've ever heard one, but still, nothing brings out the hunger faster than a comment like that. "Don't you fucking dare. Give me five minutes—we'll see who can't go again."

"Sure thing, sweetheart. Just come and bend me over once you're ready," she says with this innocent tone that is anything but. "I’ll be waiting."

Karina gives a quick kiss to your cheek, leaving a pile of discarded clothes in a heap as she saunters out of the room, her ridiculous wide hips swaying, naked as can be.

"Five minutes!"

Your head still spins, but you take a deep breath and head towards the kitchen. Quickly opening the fridge to grab a bottle of water, you chug it all as fast as you can. Because in five minutes, you better be ready.

It’s nowhere near long enough to calm all that heat burning inside you, but it’ll have to do.

Little by little, you start to regain your senses when those five minutes are nearly up, and you're not even sure if it's enough—no, you're certain it's not, but you head to the bedroom regardless, determined to prove her wrong.

When you step through the open doorway, all you can see is Karina and her nude perfection sprawled out on the sheets in the most provocative manner that she can manage, her flawless skin now devoid of your orgasm or any other messy fluids. She's not idle, that's for sure, a hand occupied between her legs, and you get a fantastic view right from the start.

Two of her slender fingers plunge right inside her needy cunt while the other hand circles a pretty nipple, tugging on it to tease, this lewd scene an invitation for you to come join.

"Thought you might not show up," Karina says, voice all sultry when all you've done is stand there and stare, looking right back. "Got a little warmed up without you. Hope that's okay.”

"And you call me the needy one.”

She hardly pays attention, more focused on the hurried movements her fingers make, curled to hit just the right spot as they slide effortlessly in. The bedsheets are rumpled by her head, where Karina lies as she thrusts in and out of her pussy, and her contorted features show no trace of shame—eyes heavy, gaze sharp, touching herself like there's no one else around.

"That's because you are. Now be a good boy and get up here.”

You aren't about to disobey.

Her moans don't cease for a moment, getting louder, less controlled by the second. But this heavenly view, Karina's flawless naked figure—it's everything, every gorgeous detail. You can only do so much admiring from the foot of the bed, and eventually, the call to explore her body is undeniable.

No reason to stall the inevitable when you climb the bed, sinking knee deep into the mattress. A front seat to this show, how Karina gets her fingers so deep in her cunt, until the sight is just torturous to watch, not to bury yourself between her legs already.

"Didn't hear a please. Don't tell me you've gotten so needy you've forgotten your manners?"

"Please? Pretty please, sweetheart,” Karina says in the most sarcastic tone imaginable, because she knows you're going to listen to her, regardless. While she looks like this, in such a depraved state, body entirely flushed and sticky with her arousal, you know your desire to tease her is absolutely meaningless. So you give an unapologetic glance, staring between her spread legs, and just savor the most erotic view, how two pretty fingers continue working away at her entrance.

But just when the show gets good, she pauses long enough to withdraw her own wet digits, making way for a much-needed, anticipated replacement.

Those digits pull out, absolutely drenched and shove right in your mouth, pushing in all the way until you slurp up her arousal. And while you suck her fingers clean, tongue wrapping all around them, it's not lost on you just how pathetic you must appear right now—chasing down that taste, long past the point of it lingering in your mouth, not embarrassed in the slightest.

"See, I knew you were the needy one." Karina is trying her hardest not to laugh at the desperation you have while sucking her fingers, but it's a losing battle. But you really don't care, not when you can make a show out of it, so sloppy and eager to keep them in your mouth.

But as much as you love the taste that is unmistakably Karina, it's not nearly enough to distract yourself—you're rock hard again. It doesn't matter that you came moments ago and that there's no way in hell you'll last any reasonable amount of time, not when her delicate hands reach right for your shaft, giving a few long strokes, which has your cock pulsating almost immediately.

"Are you even gonna be able to hold it long enough to fuck me, sweetie?" she asks, knowing damn well that the answer is an obvious not at all, but her hands feel so fucking good working away that you're going to pretend it's a possibility. “Because I need your cock inside me already. Before I get it myself."

Karina isn't patient like you thought, not in this state. Her thighs are all spread and slick, pussy looking more appetizing than ever before while you take a second to admire the view—the lips of her dripping entrance, pretty and plump, where your entire cock wants to sink right in. And judging by the look given, Karina agrees with that sentiment.

"Well?" she asks, the lack of patience shining through. Her wide, doe-eyed stare watches intently as you get situated. "Sweetheart, it's all mine—What are you waiting for? I’ve been waiting all day for this."

“All day? We haven’t even been up all day. Now, who’s the needy one?” You hardly get a response when her slender fingers wrap right around the base of your shaft. No more words, no more wasted motion—she strokes your hard, throbbing length slowly, guiding every inch right between her slippery folds. There's nothing to prevent what's next, no say in the matter when you feel the head of your cock disappear inside that wet heat.

You finish what she starts, easing yourself deeper into her warmth as a long moan erupts from Karina's parted lips. The slow push has her falling flat onto the mattress, head hitting the pillows as she adjusts to being stretched wide—and there’s no chance you can resist sinking all the way in, balls fucking deep, so your stiff cock, still so sensitive, slides the rest of the way into her dripping, hot, greedy cunt.

It feels like heaven the instant you fill her up, the walls of her pussy clamping down tightly around you the moment you're in all the way. Like always, the first time you sink in feels the best, where your dick throbs the most, smothered by all this warmth you can’t escape.

"God, Rina, you’re way too fucking tight—can’t believe how good you feel,” you groan as she gets such a harsh grip on your cock that you can barely move an inch. There's plenty of reason for hesitation. No need to deny the urge to stay right where you are, balls deep and surrounded by this heat.

“Go on, sweetheart—you don’t need me to tell you what to do, right?” Karina smiles, so blissed out and ready, her voice breathless as the last syllable trails off. And that look has you responding on instinct, the way you roll your hips back to the very edge where the head of your cock nearly exits, right before driving in balls deep once again, spreading her pink pussy lips further. "Let me feel every inch, baby.”

Another hard thrust. This time you bury yourself without hesitation while words turn into nothing but moans, every movement you make sinking in as much as you’re capable.

It's hard to even find words to express what you're feeling right now; it's overwhelming, being inside Karina, all this heat and tightness, how goddamn wet she is for you. Nothing else feels nearly this amazing. And her reactions, how your cock makes those slippery wet lips part whenever you slide back in, this endless bliss on repeat—it’s perfect.

"Fuck me, sweetie, get as deep as you can," is all Karina can get out, delicate fingers reaching out to sink into the sheets as you fall right into a deep rhythm. It’s gentle at first, but only for a fleeting moment, when you see this ravenous gaze that demands more, for you to fuck her without restraint.

You eagerly oblige and get your greedy hands all over her, holding onto that slender waist to anchor yourself in, fingers digging deep into the smooth, pale skin. Every ounce of caution vanishes, and then you start to really fuck into her wet cunt, buried deeper than imaginable, groaning whenever that tightness strangles your cock, refuses to never, ever let go.

Through these constant plunges that get your shaft so wet, her heavy breasts bounce so freely with every thrust that bottoms out with ease. It’s a constant struggle where to direct your attention, looking at her beautiful features, to her huge tits, and right back again—watching as Karina forms these lewd, drawn out moans while you fuck her like she demands, her heavenly cunt swallowing you right up, begging for more.

"Rina, baby—you're fucking perfect, these huge tits, your tight fucking cunt,” and you can’t even finish the thought, not a single word left in your mouth when she clenches around your cock, so warm and slippery, desperate to keep you there.

“My needy boy can’t even think straight when he’s fucking me so deep? Poor thing,” Karina says, and while all you can think of is making her moan without relent, she guides your hands up to her chest, the perfect opportunity to grope at her big bouncy tits.

"There you go, play with them however you like—god, just like that, keep fucking me like a good boy," she orders, eyes watching so closely when you bury to the hilt, all that slickness guiding your movements in a warm, sticky mess.

Not a thing could ruin your determination to give Karina everything she wants, when you keep those tits right underneath your palms, at a loss for words as they bounce unabated every time you plunge yourself back inside her, moaning every time. Her ridiculous breasts can't even fully fit inside your hands, even as you try, the heftiness unlike anything else when you squeeze as this beautiful woman writhes underneath your touch. You’re not sure what you’ve done to deserve her, but you’re not going to question a thing.

“Karina—“ There’s no point in getting a coherent thought out, because your mind is blank, flooded by all these sensations that surround your cock, and the softness of her jiggling breasts while you play with them so roughly, nipples so sensitive as you tease and tug them to get these deeper moans out.

"You’re so fucking wet,” you manage to finally get out, but the words sound slurred when you're drunk on lust, the vice grip of her cunt working you to a near delirious state. "Your tight fucking pussy makes my cock feel so good, I swear I can't fucking handle it—"

That’s when your hips move on their own, rutting without care, and you don’t even wait for Karina to respond, grabbing such a rough handful of her tits that gets her to moan so desperately while you slap them, hard enough to make a mark.

“Mm—baby, you know I love that,” she says, and you watch in awe how her breasts bounce repeatedly after every slap, a rosy hue appearing beneath that perfect, milky white skin. Your grip on is anything but gentle, pinching a nipple in between raw smacks that resonate across the room while your thrusts help create a harsher ripple, the redness on her chest more encouragement than anything.

Karina loves it. The harder you're fucking her, the more suffocating her pussy gets, moans starting to mix in with these cute, desperate whimpers that she just can't help. Her nipples underneath your fingers get so hard, even more sensitive whenever you aim your palm directly there. And god, you can't even think about anything else when your cock is buried deep in this delicious warmth, smacking her heavy tits as roughly as you please and staying exactly where her hot little cunt craves, leaving yourself nowhere to go but deeper and deeper between her legs.

"Fuck, sweetie, harder," she moans, words tumbling free when you play with her chest like it’s all you live for, showing absolutely no mercy whatsoever. "Pound me, fucking pound that pussy with everything you've got. I know you can.”

Your hands keep grabbing greedily, giving her chest an impatient, possessive grope, with this satisfying feeling where they jiggle so deliciously in your palms. Nothing feels as good as that, seeing them in constant motion, so bountiful when you cup them and give these shameless slaps—loud and frantic, alternating to each, focusing on how this hypnotic sight drives you insane, and the sounds Karina makes are just the cherry on top.

"Gonna cum if you keep fucking my cunt that hard, mmph, fuck, don’t stop, don’t fucking stop—"

It's all the more motivation to go even harder, bucking your hips, pistoning into Karina's dripping pussy as roughly as possible, each thrust guided by the constant flow of her juices that keeps you so deep inside. She’s gotten so sensitive by the rough treatment of her swollen, tender breasts, that you just watch the redness on her creamy flesh that doesn’t fade, how they bounce around so obscenely while you fuck her.

"Harder, keep fucking me as hard as you can, sweetheart—" is all she can choke out, words coming in ragged bursts whenever a powerful thrust sends her breath hitching.

You fuck her tight cunt the roughest she's ever taken it, grabbing her tits as aggressively as before, hips moving at the same breakneck pace that leaves you both losing it, sweat glistening on her skin, her walls swallowing you right back in each time you withdraw.

When you speed up past your limits, you can't help yourself—Karina’s warm fucking cunt feels so good that your inhibitions get tossed to the side, unable to control the way your cock pounds into her like she demands, like she deserves.

"So close, sweetie—god, gonna fucking cum, make me cum all over your cock,” she says so desperately, eyes half-lidded, the walls of her cunt clenching so impossibly tight you’re not even sure if you can last before she hits her peak. But when you get another slam in that’s so deep, Karina loses it—cumming hard right on the spot, her whole body going tense, back arching from how strong the euphoria feels.

There's a rush of warm, sticky fluid coating your cock while you refuse to relent, those pretty features displaying how intense the pleasure hits when she shakes, thighs quivering, toes curling, mouth falling open. And you do your best to let this high linger, slamming your hips against her body so she can take it all, even though you're barely hanging on yourself.

"Fucking god," Karina groans when her eyes open again and her gaze lands directly on you, a sweet, satisfied grin on her lips as you struggle to maintain composure. "So good at fucking my tight pussy, aren’t you? Didn’t think you were going to last long enough for me to—"

“Please, I have some self-control,” you start to say, not even believing the words yourself.

"Then get rid of whatever you have left," Karina breathes heavily, chest still heaving. And while you pump your cock all the way inside, she wraps her long, slender legs tight around your waist, heels digging into your back. "Need you to cum inside me. Think you can do that?"

You just thrust as fast and deep as possible to answer, the entirety of your wet shaft slamming into until everything becomes a blur. There’s nothing left to prevent the groans that escape your lips when you bury your face into the crook of her neck and ride that edge, fucking into Karina with reckless abandon.

"Need you to fill me up, make me feel all that hot cum," Karina pleads in your ear, her wet, warm cunt getting an even tighter grip around your cock that makes you go completely insane from how close you are. “You can do it, sweetheart, cum deep inside me, you know that’s how I like it."

But she doesn't have to tell you that when this tightness wrapped around you won't let up as you go completely feral, groaning into the crook of her neck, picking a spot and licking, kissing, sucking her pale, beautiful skin. You lose all focus, and it's easy enough to follow Karina's urgent pleas when those dulcet tones slip into your ear, when the intensity grows and you're pulling every ounce of pleasure you can get.

“Almost there, aren’t you? Empty your balls in me, sweetie. I know you can’t take it any more.”

Your hips do what Karina asks without any hesitation, surrendering completely, plunging yourself inside that hot, heavenly heat until there’s no turning back. She’s keeping you buried there with those powerful thighs, making sure there’s no escape for your aching cock while you get as deep as possible, nails digging into your back for extra measure, and with a final, powerful thrust—

That’s when you finally unload inside Karina—you can only groan helplessly while erupting thick, hot spurts, her nails dragging across your back as that perfect cunt milks out everything she can get and beyond that. Such an explosive release overwhelms you, especially as she holds you hostage with those sweaty thighs, and all you can do is pump her full of seed like there was never any other option.

Nothing can ever, ever compare, endlessly filling Karina’s greedy little cunt, just helplessly throbbing when you’re buried so deep, flooding it all into her body with the release she’s earned. Even as you fuck your load deeper into those slippery depths, she keeps you locked in place, still trying to drain every drop from your balls that she can get, practically begging for more.

But when it starts to calm down—that doesn’t mean you have any urge to pull out.

“Feels so warm, that’s a good boy,” Karina praises, but you can hardly get a word out when you look up, eyes landing right on that body glistening with sweat, chest heaving to catch her breath after it all. It’s a view you can’t resist, seeing how her breasts rise and fall when she lets out exhausted gasps, and if you weren’t buried in this sticky mess you’d be more than willing to lick her all up.

“Rina, fuck—“ you groan out when her limbs unlock from your waist one by one.

"Didn't think you had that much left in you after you covered my tits the first time," she says, meeting your gaze and you can’t help but admire how her disheveled appearance makes her look even prettier. "I think your balls really do never empty."

"What am I supposed to do when your body looks like this?” you ask in this desperate attempt to catch your breath. ”When your tight cunt feels so fucking good, and those perfect fucking tits—"

Karina just laughs.

"Always going on about my tits. I think you're a little obsessed with them. Not that I blame you. I'm sure you saw those stares earlier, too, on our little walk back?” Karina asks, a gentle reminder about the useless walk that started this all. “Must have felt good to show me off, knowing the guys couldn't believe their eyes. But only you get to suck on them, play with them like you just did. Only you get to put that cock between them and—"

"Jesus, Rina, please, I can't go again.” That's not entirely true, but the mere suggestion already has your spent, exhausted cock stirring with interest again. Through this entire conversation, you're still inside Karina, her cunt remaining impossibly warm, this sticky mess threatening to overflow and spill everywhere.

"Poor thing, I've gotten you all tired out. You sure you don't want one more? Just a quick little ride while I bounce these tits in your cute face? I promise to go nice and easy…" Karina smiles, batting her eyelashes for added effect. As much as that sounds like everything you’ve dreamed of, your body betrays you in that very moment as the sensitivity starts to kick in. So, with an unimaginable amount of willpower, you pull yourself out with a groan.

When you both look right down to the mess you've created, a huge, sticky flood gushes right out of her—an absolute deluge of white leaking out, dripping all over her thighs and onto the brand new sheets.

“Too tired to answer, sweetie? You don't want another load dripping out of me just like this? Like I said, I wouldn't go hard—just nice and slow, while you watch. A sweet treat for my sweet boy."

God knows you want nothing else, to just lay on your back and drink in the view of Karina riding you, watching those perfect breasts jiggle and bounce around wildly while you don't even have to move. And yet you can't deny this exhaustion in your bones that has other plans. "Karina, please, I'm so—"

"So spoiled? Is that what you were going to say?" she responds cheekily.

There's not a damn chance in hell you could handle this woman going full speed on your poor, overstimulated cock when she's capable of making you blow within seconds, riding you like only she can and no doubt knocking you unconscious when the job is done.

"Do you even know what nice and slow is? When has that ever been your style?"

Karina's jaw drops in disbelief, a hand over her mouth as if she's truly surprised by the remark. "Are you saying I'm incapable of such a thing?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying."

"Fine, you big baby," she teases as she shakes her head with a smile. "I'll fuck your brains out some other time, I guess. Wouldn't want to break my favorite toy."

You're unable to form a comeback, succumbing to eventual collapse on top of her, face resting on her chest where you take a second to indulge and revel in the sensation of being pressed against her warm body. Karina's fingers run gently through your hair, stroking those sweaty locks.

"You can do anything you want to me next time. But after I'm good and ready again."

"Anything, huh?"

You nod, not even fully cognizant of what those words might mean until it's far too late, when a wave of fatigue takes its effect. Karina guides you away, bringing her head closer and placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

✦ ✦

Hours pass by before you stir once more, having fallen asleep right afterwards on Karina's supple chest, the softest pillows you could ask for. You're unsure what time of day it is, if it's evening or even the next morning already—all you know is you’ve never slept so well.

"Look who finally decided to wake up. It's about time, sleepyhead,” a familiar teasing voice greets as you look up to find Karina's playful features looking at you.

"Sorry. Someone sucked all the energy right out of me."

"Oh, don’t be so dramatic. How are you feeling, sweetie?" Karina asks, running fingers through your hair so tenderly.

"Good as new. Could use a shower, though."

"Well, how about you wait a minute? There’s just…” Her voice trails off, and it's clear she has something important on her mind, as her fingers slide through your disheveled hair that she's been stroking for quite some time now. “Something I’ve got planned for you.”

You're not even completely lucid yet before her lips crash against yours, a heated, demanding kiss that can't be refused. No doubt she dominates the moment and slips her tongue inside your mouth, tasting you as thoroughly as possible. And that‘s all it takes for the lust to creep back in, forcing the blood to rush south and a familiar hardness to kick in.

"Remember what you said before you passed out?"

You just stare at Karina dumbfounded—certain you had a clear recollection, but also well aware this sudden awakening makes recalling events quite difficult, so she leans in to remind you. "Told me you'd let me do anything. Are you still on board, sweetie?"

Now you remember. It's not like the words came from nowhere, and you aren't in the business of breaking promises. A simple nod is all the response needed, and Karina bites her lower lip with anticipation. And with that, she disappears into the bathroom, leaving you curious about whatever she has in mind. When she reemerges, the picture becomes crystal clear.

Karina returns back inside, now sporting black lingerie—stockings, garter belt, the works, all connected with an assortment of straps. There's no doubt your eyes are locked right on that sinful body and all those curves, because you’ve never seen her look so good. Quite the surprise that you can’t even process it all; the way her thick thighs look in that sheer fabric, and those heavy tits look fucking amazing in this particular bra, held together with hopes and dreams, the barely existent fabric exposing far more than it hides. As if her chest didn’t already need more showcasing, this amplifies the sheer size of her assets, drawing further attention right where it should be.

"What do you think?" she asks, a small smirk appearing on her pretty face as your hungry eyes wander.

You can't possibly be expected to form an intelligent response. Such a seductive outfit has you nearly speechless—Karina has never looked more breathtaking, straight out of your deepest desires. "Do you even need to ask?"

"Yes. Because I like hearing you say it," she replies almost sheepishly, posing to show herself off, bending over forward to show off that absurd amount of cleavage.

"Like every fantasy I've ever had, Rina. You're absolutely fucking gorgeous.”

"Thanks, sweetie." There's a slight pause while she beams from ear to ear, and then the mood shifts when she looks at you—you can see the gears turning inside her head. "Now, follow me. Lose the boxers."

You do so at once and discard that piece of clothing, not particularly caring where it lands. Following Karina comes second nature as you walk obediently behind to the living room, which looks exactly the same as earlier—except for one thing.

Waiting for you is a single chair sitting in the middle of the room, without arms or extra frills and a curved back, but mostly an ordinary black chair. "Alright, sweetie. I want you to take a seat right here."

So without hesitation, you sit, positioning yourself in the chair as comfortably as possible while Karina’s eyes linger, scanning your naked figure while you await further instructions. She gives no immediate explanation, instead circling behind you as that silky touch caresses your back, along your shoulders, making her way around to your neck, nails gently scraping across.

And while she's got you distracted, Karina moves quickly, taking both of your arms, holding them behind your back as she ties your wrists together with what feels like soft rope, securing you in place.

"Anything, sweetie?" she echoes right in your ear, the question seemingly rhetorical while she ties you up tight.

“Yeah—anything.”

Once finished, Karina stands directly in front, towering over you, sizing up your helpless state as you get a closeup view of your desires manifested, full-blown sin, like it’s a reward for your cooperation.

You can only stare, nearly stunned to silence as your vision is filled by the curves of Karina's body and her lacy undergarments—the shapely thickness of her stocking-covered thighs, the dangerous valley of her breasts desperate to spill out, all framed nicely and right in the center of your line of vision, everything displayed like a beautiful work of art, no ounce of modesty in sight. "Get a good look, sweetheart. Don't be shy."

How could you when she has your attention held captive so easily—the way those tits bounce from the slightest movement, and how goddamn delicious her body looks that makes you throb between your legs like never before. You don’t close your eyes or turn your gaze while you salivate over this gift just out of reach, cock aching like crazy, unable to think, and certainly unable to move.

Karina does her best to interrupt your thoughts as she grazes the side of your face, letting her manicured nails scratch down to your chin, the slightest hint of contact sending shivers through your body. "You seem pretty comfortable tied up. Enjoying this?"

"Not as much as you seem to be," you reply, earning you this devilish little look on her face that turns more sinister with every waking second. Karina tilts your chin up, diverting your gaze from that sinful chest so she forces eye contact. “Tell me, sweetie—what would you do right now if you weren't all tied up like this?"

What wouldn't you do? The options are endless, but at the very least you’d pin Karina right on the ground, rip off every piece of fabric hiding her beautiful body and well—

It’s hard to even put your fantasies into words. “Bend you over that fucking couch and shove my cock right inside you. Wouldn't even take those panties off—just shove them aside and make you cum so hard you forget your own name.”

The reaction to those words is instant. First, her eyes widen, like she’s visualizing just that, swiping her tongue across those sultry lips. Her weight shifts and those creamy thighs press together, with no missing the way her breathing deepens, chest even that more enticing, making your greed boil to the surface as you ache to grope and squeeze those full tits in your grasp. “Would you now? What would you do once you get my little cunt all stretched out for you, dripping wet? Tell me, sweetie. In detail."

A brief moment to gather your thoughts while Karina continues to pull out your deepest fantasies. “With an ass like that, there’s no way I’m not getting my hands all over it—slap those pretty cheeks until it stings, until it’s bright fucking red with my handprints marking you all over.”

“Fuck, look at you trying to act all tough and dominant,” she says, and lets out a long, content sigh. "More. Come on, don't hold back."

"I'd finger your greedy little asshole while pounding into your cunt. Open you up real good and fuck you while you beg for more, beg me to ruin you.”

Her smile only gets bigger at the suggestions—she's clearly enjoying this. "That's cute that you think I'd ever beg for anything—that's really more your style," she replies, licking those glossy lips like she's imagining every little detail, so tempted to put your words into reality.

"But it has been a while since I had anything in my tight ass. But what comes next? What else would you do to my poor, helpless body?"

You imagine it all, Karina with her hands tied behind her back, bent over in this obscene angle, face pressed up against the cushions with nothing to help her escape while you just have your way with her—

"I'd fucking destroy your cunt. Grab that long, beautiful hair and pull hard on it, so fucking hard. Hold those hips and smack that perfect fat ass until it's bruised while I pump that hungry cunt full of hot cum. Again and again, for as long as I want."

The mere thought alone makes you so impossibly hard it hurts, and you realize you’ve fallen into her trap, going along with her game far too easily, not thinking things through when all you’ve done is riled yourself up. But seeing the satisfaction spread over her face as you stumble over your words is worth the sacrifice.

"Who knew you had such a dirty little mind? Just hearing all that, fuck, do you know how wet you’ve gotten me?” Karina asks as she steps in a bit closer, locking lips again, tongue slipping in so easily. Her free hand strokes you slowly, gripping your cock hard enough to make you moan in her mouth—and while those luscious fingers glide all the way down, you feel something slide over your shaft, down to your base, something secure and snug around you, applying just the slightest pressure.

"Rina, what—"

She smiles, so innocently, like she's proud, and it clicks into place what exactly it is before she explains.

"A cock ring. It should make everything I do to you feel even better. And maybe help you last longer. You should start to feel the effects in a minute or two," Karina answers. "It doesn't hurt, does it?"

You shake your head immediately; the idea taking some time to register—wondering how a small rubber ring could amplify all these sensations, but you trust her words. With some thought, you conclude this might actually be a blessing when dealing with whatever you're about to be in store for. You're not exactly in a position to argue with it anyway.

Despite the pressure, the tightness, you can't complain—the sensation feels strangely wonderful. All the blood rushes to your throbbing cock, making the pleasure feel far greater than usual, almost overwhelming, every stroke Karina gives infinitely more intense.

"Starting to feel good, isn't it, sweetie? Getting nice and sensitive for me?"

Your cock twitches in response, almost involuntarily trying to thrust upward to feel even more, desperate for whatever Karina will give. So distracted by how good these fingers feel wrapped around your shaft you’ve almost forgotten your helpless state, only reminded when the rope digs into your wrist and limits your movement. With an almost painful grip, she jerks faster, all that sensitivity flaring up, making every sensation all more powerful.

When she stops stroking, her thumb just presses down on that spot right below the swollen head, rubbing ever so gently. Jerking forward becomes something out of your control, and you grit your teeth at the intensity as she applies constant pressure to that area, a loud moan you had no intention of releasing escapes so easily. That same pattern continues, a ritual: a slow rhythm of strokes that ends in her rubbing that same sweet spot, then she picks up right where she left off, squeezing and pumping her hand back up.

"I can just imagine it—I bet it feels ten times more sensitive than ever. And even harder than you've ever been. God, sweetie, you're leaking so much already, and we've only just started. I'm going to have so much fun with you."

She's not exaggerating, and when one finger circles over the tip, drawing back down a path down to your base, slow, painfully slow—you know this is going to be torturous to endure. With every little touch or stroke, your cock grows more desperate, throbbing heavily in her gasp, craving every bit of stimulation like oxygen. If not for this tight little ring preventing your release, you have a feeling you’d already be making a mess all over your stomach.

But what really undoes you is the teasing smirk on her face. The way her thumb brushes across the sensitive tip, eliciting an audible gasp when she pulls away.

"Does it feel good when I stroke your big, throbbing cock? When I squeeze it just like this? Karina asks, refusing to move faster than she needs to, a maddening pace, up and down, all the way to your swollen, dripping tip, collecting your precum on her fingers. “Are you trying not to lose it already?"

When you only groan in response, desperate and unable to put any coherent thoughts into words, Karina presses her thumb against your leaking slit for a fleeting moment, before stroking quicker, sliding all the way down to the base of your shaft and repeating the motion again.

With each little touch, each little graze over your cockhead, she grins at every noise you let slip—every single whine, every last whimper. Karina grabs your cock as rough as she pleases, the other hand coming to fondle your heavy balls, squeezing just the right amount to get you absolutely weak—rolling the weight between her fingertips.

“Now, sweetie—tell me, wouldn’t you like me on the sofa, my legs all spread, dripping wet while you fill up my tight cunt? Your perfect cock plowing in and out of me, splitting me open, that would feel so good, wouldn’t it? How would you even take me if you were so sensitive, so on edge? You’d fucking burst as soon as my pussy swallowed you up, wouldn't you?"

All you can think of is exactly that exact scenario—how fucking tight and wet that warm fucking cunt always gets, squeezing your sensitive shaft and bringing you to climax within the very first thrust. Imagining burying yourself deep into that sticky mess, folding her in half as you fuck her at your leisure, a raw, merciless pace. And then filling her with your sticky cum as those tits bounce from each vicious stroke, over and over, using her body exactly like you need.

You try to shove that image from your mind, knowing you're already falling apart from the tiniest bit of imagination.

But it's nothing to how Karina makes you feel with her delicate fingers wrapped firmly around your cock, twisting a bit before stroking down to the base and then repeating all over again, spitting directly onto your cock to ease the glide.

“Could you even manage not to burst when you get buried deep in this ass?” she asks, snapping your attention back, keeping her thumb circled around the base of that swollen cockhead. “Maybe we can test that out. See how quickly you blow your load when I'm sitting on top of your cock, spreading my cheeks open and stretching my asshole until you're buried as deep as I can take…”

“Rina, please—“

And there's no reply—just the deliberate, focused teasing when Karina spins around, now with her back turned, offering a glimpse of that amazing ass you've been dying to get your hands on. Before you can even prepare, the supple flesh of her ass sits back against your shaft, grinding against what’s trapped right in between her soft, luscious ass cheeks.

That's when the true agony kicks in. That tight, round ass starts rubbing your poor, deprived cock, while your restrained hands tug against your binds, the urge to grasp her hips and slam the full length straight up her asshole becoming unbearable.

"It's a little selfish of me, isn't it?" Karina chuckles, leaning back on your body. "You can't even do anything right now. All I'd have to do is sit on this needy cock of yours, get it all inside this tight little asshole, and your balls would be drained within seconds. Just need a little of that strawberry oil that smells so good. It's been a while since you've fucked my ass—what, a week maybe?"

The grinding persists, using your thighs to help guide her, filling you with frustration as you struggle in this helpless position. It's impossible to take what you desire when you’re tied up, the teasing insufferable.

You can’t deny that every inch of Karina is sculpted by the gods, and that ass—indulgently round, voluptuous cheeks, always flaunted with those snug sweatpants or the tightest jeans imaginable. It's not even fair how relentless she’s gotten, and you can only stare as your shaft slides helplessly between her plump cheeks, the only thing between you and heaven is that flimsy piece of fabric covering her asshole.

"Rina, please, god. I swear I’ll—“

"What was that, baby? Please, what?”

Your response falls silent the second she pulls off, spinning back around to see your desperation up close, letting your cock twitch helplessly against your abdomen. The loss of warmth against you is almost a greater cruelty than the sight of that chest all covered up in nothing more than thin lace, hopelessly confined.

"Didn't hear an answer. Is it getting to be too much?" Karina asks, flashing this all-knowing smile when she begins squeezing your cock hard, jerking the entire length with both her expert hands, the friction too intense to handle. The pumps get so frantic you can hardly speak, your balls growing painfully tight at all this denial.

"Y-yes—need to be inside you. Please, any part of you, baby," you plead, your voice sounding so pathetic, borderline unrecognizable.

Karina ponders for a moment, brows furrowed, as though in deep consideration. You have no choice but to wait for her verdict, in torment, clenching your fists, dying for the chance to touch her. She presses a finger to your lips and runs it down your chest, flicking against a nipple that sends another rush of delirious pleasure through you. "No, not yet, sweetie. You've been such a good boy so far—just hold on a little longer."

Her smile is every bit wicked as she swings a leg over around your waist, a bit of her weight settling on your hips. The fabric of her stockings is silky and soft, teasing the area where it rests, even more excruciating that you can't lay a hand on those thighs. Right away she resumes her harsh grip on your cock, pumping so fast, edging right to that climax only to deny it at the last moment—slowly and painfully easing back off.

You're nearly shaking, hips bucking on repeat, not sure if the frustration feels better or worse than not being touched in the first place. Not to mention how everything feels ten times worse with this damn ring wrapped around the base of your cock that taunts you. "God, you really are ready to explode at any moment. Poor baby, you need to cover me in cum more than anything, isn’t that right?”

"Yes, fuck—please, Rina, I can't take it, need to cum so bad," you plead, looking up at her, throwing all pride away.

That's when Karina pumps you ever faster, dragging you over to that finish line, watching your reaction with those devilish eyes when she eases off before your orgasm has a chance to arrive, right back off your shaft and denying it once again. It's a long, torturous game—a few fast strokes, squeezing the head of your cock just how you need.

And then she stops completely.

It goes like this, with no reprieve, leaving your poor cock to throb helplessly against your stomach, painful when Karina leaves it abandoned with nothing but cold, frigid air. Bliss and denial, an endless cycle.

"So needy, aren't you, sweetheart? Wanting so bad to blow your load and cover me with this massive load," Karina laughs, admiring the strain on your face. “Tell you what—“

There’s a necessary respite that lets you breathe for a moment, when Karina squeezes your balls nice and tight, keeping that desperation held there for far too long. And that's when she reaches behind to unfasten her bra, moving at an infuriatingly slow pace, peeling the straps one by one, dragging this on for as long as she possibly can.

You watch intently, hanging on each and every motion as she removes and tosses the entire piece right over your head. The best reward you can get for enduring this torture, you think. Her bare breasts come into view again—and it feels like the first time all over, nothing as erotic as these massive tits on display in front of you, that you almost don’t care that you can’t even squeeze them yourself.

Almost.

With nothing to stand in the way of your shameless leering, you do so, and Karina welcomes it—brushing her thumbs over her stiff nipples while you commit it all to memory.

You're more than ready to erupt all over her, to spill everything across those pale breasts, and in the middle of your haze you hardly notice a familiar bottle popping open in her hands. As if this scene weren’t impossible to deal with already. Pouring oil all over her supple chest in a circle, Karina douses herself in more than a generous amount—stealing all of your attention when she rubs and spreads it evenly across her creamy skin.

She has no intention of stopping there, generously applying more down to her abs, along that tight little frame, down to her milky thighs, still all wrapped in those silky stockings that drive you crazy more than anything. Now she's really playing dirty now, coating and slicking up her entire body for the occasion. And the worst part is how you can't do a goddamn thing—left watching this entire show while your cock aches with neglect as she teases her stiff nipples between her fingertips.

"Liking the view, sweetie?" she asks, running her slippery hands across her curves, knowing what a pathetic state you must be in, an oiled-up Karina up there with one of your biggest weaknesses.

There's nothing you can manage, not even a nod as you're left helplessly staring, craving all that gorgeous skin under your own hands and you don't even have it in you to beg at this point. Anything you'd say would be beyond incomprehensible. "Can't say a word anymore? No more dirty fantasies you wanna share?"

Silence is a rare occasion, even when Karina has you bound up tight like this. So you must really be in awful shape. You'd love to give a satisfying response, but at this point, all your attempts come out as nothing more than groans. That's about all that you have left.

Still, Karina takes that as an answer and climbs back into your lap, looking every bit irresistible, all covered and doused in that scented oil that soaks through whatever leftover lace exists, giving it all a nice glisten—nearly making your dick burst from the sight alone. She grabs a heavy handful of her breasts between slippery, oiled fingers, and just seeing her knead and fondle herself gets you squirming hard in your restraints, wanting so badly to sink your lips into them, desperate to have a taste.

"Since you've been such a good boy—putting up with everything I’ve thrown at you and held on," Karina ponders out loud, as she begins to grind her oily body against you, all the friction intensifying every inch that touches, your skin burning with her touch. "Then maybe my baby deserves a nice, thick load across my chest after handling so much of this, don’t you? Think you could blow a big, messy load right across these tits for me?"

A frantic nod is all you have to offer, overwhelmed from her hot body sliding against you, all coated in warm slickness, driving you beyond the edge. Every ounce of your sanity is being tested. All this slippery flesh against your own drives you towards a finish that’s so imminent, so close, but you still have to wait until the very end, until Karina allows you that permission.

"That won't do," Karina says, slowing her movements down to a mere crawl. "Need you to use your words, sweetie. Let me know how badly you need it. Don’t I deserve that for getting you this worked up in the first place?”

There’s a string of words that escape that hardly make up a proper sentence. “S-so bad. Need to cum, please.”

But that doesn't satisfy Karina in the slightest as she pushes off your lap and shifts lower down to her knees. This sight feels even worse than having her in your lap—far too tempting, watching her breasts bounce as she lowers and wedges herself closer, hovering between your spread legs. "Baby, we both know that's not enough. Give me a good reason to make you cum."

If not for those oily hands stroking over your thighs, you'd probably be responding a lot differently—but it's so tough to remain concentrated in this state, that the slightest touch nearly unravels you, the neediness in your voice escalating so rapidly.

"F-fuck, god, please, Rina—want my thick load spilled all over you, need it all over your pretty face, wanna cum so fucking hard and cover every part of you. P-please. Fuck, need it so bad."

Your voice cracks near the end of it—enough for Karina to get both hands around your cock, her fingers fully gripping around every sensitive, throbbing inch of it. And god, you're so close it hurts. You feel like you've gone a month without any relief, and you can't suppress the moan that follows, the full brunt of an orgasm churning through your heavy balls, every sensation twice, maybe three times more powerful than usual.

"That's a good boy. Wasn't so hard, was it?" Karina chuckles, beginning to work your shaft with long, exaggerated strokes and her thumb circling all over the sensitive tip of your cock, admiring how absolutely broken you are. The climax builds an even faster and uncontrollable pressure, balls swelling so painfully tight—everything feels unbearably tense, not even able to imagine holding yourself back now.

She gives your cock a light slap with her palm, drawing the most pitiful groan from you as you stare on in disbelief, the sensitivity too harsh to bear—and it's not any kind of relief when she gives another, a firmer hit to your swollen cockhead, afraid of blowing your load any second now. You think this is your limit, when all Karina does is deliver repeated slaps to your throbbing shaft, then gripping it even tighter before jerking her hand along the full length.

"Look at you, you're gonna cum so much, aren't you? Maybe the biggest load you'll blow this month—let's put you out of your misery. Empty those heavy fucking balls and cum for me, sweetheart."

Those final words are all the relief you could've asked for, spoken with an affectionate smile as Karina leans forward and strokes your aching cock furiously, bringing you long past the tipping point. Everything begins with the hardest twitch in her grasp—an unexpected intensity that only progresses when she spurs it all on, her slippery, slender fingers pumping as fast as they can go, making sure you let it all out.

And there's not an ounce of strength in you left to do anything but that, the tension within your balls unable to hold back anything, leaving you with the one option—to embrace it, the relentless strokes that help achieve ecstasy that's so long overdue.

Karina's smiling, pretty face in front of you just adds an extra bonus.

There's no going back, and when your balls tighten, nothing can prepare you for the hardest orgasm you've felt in ages—all directed at her face as she anticipates what you've worked so hard for, not letting up one bit. You let out the most unrestrained deep groan as warm, thick spurts burst from the tip, immediately splattering across that stunningly beautiful face, hitting across her forehead and down to the bridge of her nose without a single flinch.

No thoughts to how far the shots reach as you explode more, spraying right across her cheeks, into her hair as Karina pumps the entire time, coaxing out your thickest load, changing the angle to drain you over her soft, pillowy lips as you tremble so violently underneath, overcome with a mixture of exhaustion and relief. Everything keeps pulsing hard—covering even more of her porcelain complexion in white, your hot seed running thick across her face as she unloads every heavy burst over herself, seemingly endless, not easing her grip on your cock even once.

The strength of your orgasm lingers once your load empties across her face, leaving a complete and total mess that you'll never forget, Karina completely covered in these thick strands that start to drip, her expression quite satisfied and content. The aftermath lingers—breathing so heavy even once your cock finishes the grand finale, throbbing wildly throughout it all and even Karina’s left unable to believe just how much has built up during your denial.

"That's my good boy," Karina sighs, continuing to pump your oversensitive cock, even though there's no more left to spill—a series of weak twitches firing off after such a large release as you're reduced to a shuddering mess. "Look at all this cum you've painted my fucking face with, sweetie. Aren't I lucky? God, it's just all dripping down, so fucking thick and warm. That must have felt so fucking good, didn’t it?”

You can hardly hear the giggles escaping, or process the image in front of you, Karina all covered in white and dripping with the results of that long-awaited climax, some of it reaching her sweaty, oily chest as well. When her hands let go, all that tension lifts and you finally breathe with the greatest ease, sinking back against the chair.

And that's when you get to let it all sink in, this mess that Karina wears—it's rather artistic, in the lewdest way possible, clinging to her lips and chin, practically everywhere, thick and messy.

Your breaths take longer to even themselves out, despite feeling the purest sense of relief you haven't felt in weeks, unable to take your eyes off from how your cum starts to slowly roll down the side of her chin, where Karina catches with her finger and slowly swipes upwards. She makes sure you're watching carefully and brings it to her lips, delicately taking that long, wet digit in her mouth, wrapping and sucking her lips around.

It's absolutely sinful to watch her suck the mess off like that, tasting your seed right off her fingertips as she hums and savors your load.

"Tastes even better after what I put you through," Karina says with this wicked laugh, and you can hardly move a muscle from all this. "But you know—" And that pause she gives is filled with a whole other sort of danger, that same grin plastered across her face while she stays kneeling between your legs. "Still haven't gotten to ride you yet. After a load like this, I bet you don't have much left to give, hmm?"

You can't even begin to believe what you're hearing now.

"Jesus, Rina, are you trying to kill me? I think you emptied me enough for the rest of this month."

Contrary to what you want, there's this devilish look that lingers as she glances down between your legs, noticing how you're definitely still plenty stiff—maybe because of that magical ring still wrapped on your cock, or that you can't look away from those cum-stained features. "R-Rina—please, give me like a day or two, at least."

"Poor thing. Can't handle this much?" Karina gets a few more strokes in, gripping and sliding along your sensitive length as if you hadn't released that large load over her, the pain of overstimulation stirring again in the worst possible ways. "But what if I just keep you here, all nice and hard for me. For the next hour, for two hours, three? Would you like that, sweetie?"

Even her delicate, loving caresses cause your body to shake and convulse. And god, you have never been this sensitive ever before. "Please no—fuck, you can't—g-god, too much, hurts—"

Karina can't help but feel a bit of mercy, so she stops, slowly sliding a finger down to your base and removing the rubber ring from your sore cock—within an instant, your entire length relaxes. "Fine, fine. I suppose that's enough."

Just this sudden reduction in sensations feels like heaven, and all you can manage is a deep, exhausted sigh. But the thing that scares you—is how part of you could easily say yes. "Th-thank you, god—"

"But we're not ending the night without me riding the fuck out of you. You're not off the hook yet." Fair enough, you think, even if you'd be entirely useless after this whole experience. “So, shower or..."

"A little hard to shower like this," you remind, still struggling to gather energy.

She stifles a laugh. "Oh that? Guess I should let you out of those," Karina muses, undoing the ties around both of your hands. And finally, you have some freedom, taking the deepest, most rewarding breath as she rubs your wrists to help alleviate the discomfort. "Offer's still on the table, though. One more go with me on top riding you?"

"Rina, please, what part of you're going to kill me was unclear?"

"Alright, alright, just checking," Karina laughs, hoisting herself off her knees. "Then come join me in the shower. Still got a bit of you on me."

Now that you can get behind—because you'll never deny the chance to see Karina's naked body under the hot running water, all soaped up and lathered.

✦ ✦

Karina has never been one to sleep in. Especially not when she has class in the morning, so you're surprised to wake up first, lying next to her warm, dead-asleep figure. You don’t remember much of anything before passing out, given that a proper round two (three?) didn't exactly go as scheduled. But the soreness does slowly return when you shift your body, and she's the sole culprit for that.

You can’t help but notice how beautiful Karina looks with hardly anything covering her voluptuous body—a thin sheet not quite pulled all the way over, exposing most of her pale skin.

Moving carefully, you try not to wake her—but it's a mistake to underestimate just how much Karina's eyes are really closed when her arms pull you in, holding you hostage against the warmth of her chest.

"Stay,” she murmurs, breaking the silence and wrapping a leg around your waist. “Were you watching me sleep again?"

"Maybe," you reply, reciprocating the embrace and sighing happily when her arms coil around your back, pulling you closer against her body. "Am I not allowed to admire someone who looks so beautiful in the morning?"

"Oh my god, shut up,” Karina grumbles, but she’s easily silenced when you kiss her neck, lips running delicately across her skin, breathing her scent in.

"Already so riled up for me this early? Even after yesterday?" she asks, the question murmured between soft pants. "Didn't tire you completely out?"

"Impossible," you respond, delivering more tender kisses, intent on working your way down as you start to explore.

"So insatiable—where do your hands plan on wandering to, hmm?" Karina laughs, shuddering at the teasing strokes along her hips.

"Somewhere you'd like, I hope."

Your answer leaves Karina hesitating to respond—only giggling quietly and helping you move down the curves of her body. "Need me to give you the tour?"

"Well—if you're offering."

"Like an impatient puppy, aren't you?" Karina teases, planting a kiss on your cheek. "But it's so fucking cute how desperate you are this early. My needy good boy."

"Can't help it when there's so much for me to explore.”

“Explore all you'd like then, sweetheart," Karina offers, the words leaving her so easy as she takes your wrists, leading your hands up to her delicious chest that you immediately have the urge to knead, sinking your fingers deep into those full, pillowy breasts.

"I assume you wanna start with these?"

And her smirk just encourages your touch, a low sigh coming from her lips when you follow her cue, cupping and squeezing the heavy weight of her gorgeous tits in both hands, the warmth of them so delicious while you grab a firm handful.

"You know me too well."

The enthusiasm you show isn't shy when you roll the stiff peaks of her nipples under your thumb, relishing the sounds that follow from Karina—the soft moans and whimpers when you toy with them. And you can't help but bury your face in those massive, heaving breasts, running your lips across every supple, tempting inch, absolutely drowning in all this pale flesh.

"So greedy, are we?" Karina mutters, almost smug as her fingers rake through your hair, gasps building while enjoying the attention lavished on her breasts. You give a hard squeeze, savoring the feel of her soft, supple flesh filling your palms, the shape that fills your hands so wonderfully, and you plant the most greedy kisses all along every inch of that delicious valley, unable to pull yourself away.

There’s nothing else to be said, not when these ravenous slurps can answer for you.

Nowhere else you would rather be than kissing your way all across her chest, flicking your tongue against a nipple that gets these loud moans flowing when you take it into your mouth, sucking hungrily before pulling back and doing it all over again, feasting on the other.

You don't leave either neglected, rolling the other bud between your fingertips while your mouth slurps around the opposite, devouring as much as you can. With every seal of your lips, Karina somehow grows more sensitive the longer she squirms beneath you.

"Fuck, you're really enjoying this, aren't you? They're so sensitive," she moans, arching her back as her chest beckons, offering up as much as you can ask for. But per usual, you're not content with just tasting, teeth grazing ever so slightly across her pretty nipples, nibbling at each swollen nub. And the instant you hear the sharp intake of Karina's breath, that's all you need to indulge further—playfully pulling into your teeth, tugging even rougher.

"Good," you respond without missing a beat between laps of your tongue, swiping over and toying with both nipples, giving no end of this stimulation that your lips provide.

Karina holds the back of your head as your lips suck so fervently, long past the point her breasts glisten, covered in spit. She doesn't let you wander elsewhere just yet, not that there's anywhere else you would want to go, enjoying this buffet she serves so willingly.

"Oh my god—you're too fucking much, love your mouth on my tits," Karina pants, tugging at your hair, encouraging your lust. Her beautiful breasts bounce when they leave your grasp, but your lips and fingers stay relentless, tweaking and playing with her tits as your mouth gets beyond sloppy, popping off and licking all over with even more vigor, a hunger that can't be satiated.

Her hand around the back of your head guides you to whichever needs the most attention, your mouth gladly following, working the perfect combination between your lips and teeth to tease out a plethora of whimpers, desperate cries, saliva dripping everywhere. You suck and suck without mercy, completely gone, absorbed in her huge fucking tits like nothing else exists—

"Shit, wait, wait—sweetie, come back up," Karina suddenly demands, pulling you out of your lust-fueled haze. It's a tough separation to make, prying your lips involuntarily off her swollen, slippery buds.

"What? What’s wrong?"

"The time. Fuck, I can't be late today," Karina sighs, peering at the clock behind you.

"Yes you can. I can't just—"

"Hey, I’m serious,” she groans. "Just because you're that desperate to stay latched onto my tits, doesn't mean I want to miss my exam.”

When you meet her eyes—there’s no real sense of truth or commitment, even after she gives this light tug that barely has any energy behind it. This isn’t fooling anyone. In the blink of an eye, she's under you once again, squirming underneath your lips. "My schedule—mm, no, hey, are you listening?”

"You can't leave me after this. All worked up, I haven't even gotten you off yet."

"This is entirely on you."

"No, I'm not taking the blame. This is on you and these goddamn perfect tits of yours."

"Sweetie—" she whines, growing less and less inclined to leave the bed when she grabs your wrist. "Sweetie, I swear to fucking god, can't you just keep your dick to yourself until I get back?"

"No, not when you keep moaning so much," you tell her, refusing to relent. "You're more turned on than I am."

There’s this feigned surprise on her face when she hears that, like it’s somehow the worst thing you’ve told her. "Am not. We both know you're a worse liar than I am, and—it's not my fault you were sucking so hard I almost came."

"What did you expect when you shoved your tits in my face first thing in the morning?"

Karina rolls her eyes, because it's all so ridiculous how she's acting like this is all your fault—when it's exactly what she should expect.

"That doesn't mean you had to spend like a fucking hour sucking them for—let me up, I have to get ready, you goddamn animal."

"Animal? You could have stopped me anytime. Don’t put this on me."

"Not with that fucking mouth I couldn't. Look, I can take care of you the second I get back, I just need to—"

It's not like Karina doesn't notice your frustration, that adorable pout across your face, looking almost offended that she would try to deny you of anything. But she's having far more trouble resisting, especially when you look so needy and pathetic like this.

“How long do you have? You can't leave without me making you cum."

"Fuck, I don't know, not that long—maybe twenty minutes,” she says, not even sure of the estimate herself.

"Perfect. That's plenty of time."

"It's not. I need to shower, get dressed, eat something. Let me go, you crazy fucking perv."

"You don't need to shower, you smell amazing."

Karina scoffs. "You're just used to me like this. Which is why I need a goddamn shower."

"Then I'll just fuck you in the shower. Save us time," you counter, but all Karina can do is groan, face-palming from how impatient and stubborn you are.

She pushes herself up on her elbows, shaking her head so dramatically. "Jesus, you're not letting this go, are you? Am I gonna have to tie you up again?"

"Is that a promise?"

And somehow, you've managed to break through her resolve. Karina can't stop laughing, face in the crook of your neck, giggling so cutely. "You're fucking unbelievable. When was the last time I wasn't late for something?"

"Dunno. Does it matter?"

"Fine. Okay. Fine—I suppose the shower isn't a bad idea. Maybe it'll cool you off a bit."

"Don't count on it."

The two of you hurry into the bathroom—and perhaps a better word would be fumbled, given how reluctant you are to take your hands off her for too long. But once the hot water starts raining down from above, there's no stopping what's about to take place.

You're drawn in by everything you love about Karina, embracing her from behind, and you find yourself staring shamelessly at her beautiful features, dripping wet. She looks utterly gorgeous without even trying, hair matted to her forehead, water running down her body to just accentuate each and every curve.

"Sweetheart—" she starts, interrupted quickly when you pull her close, pressing a kiss against the soft skin of her neck. "A quick fuck. That's it. You don't have permission for anything else."

You don't answer with anything but your hands on her hips that she rolls against you, letting out a breathy sigh at how your cock nudges between her cheeks while she places her hands against the steamy glass of the shower door.

Then Karina lets out the prettiest moan when you're back inside her warmth again.

Your fingers dig into her curvy hips while you pump, and she spreads her legs as the perfect invitation to ease yourself deeper into her heat, walls fluttering against your shaft, tits pressed up against the cold glass.

"God, fuck,” Karina cries out. “That’s it, fucking split me open, fuck me like you were begging a few moments ago.”

Before you can even meet her demands, she pushes her hips against you to get things moving. And it's always a pleasure being ordered around by her, especially when it means your cock gets to be so impossibly deep, burying every single inch in that smothering heat.

There's no slow, easy thrusts, no warning before she's rewarded with a quick slam of your hips. Her entire body shudders at the sensation, nails dragging down the slippery glass of the shower wall as she braces herself.

"So—it's all my fault?" you growl between thrusts, hips picking up speed, getting a tighter grasp on her body for some needed leverage that has you wetly slamming right in, making the most of every single inch.

"Absolutely. Mm, ah, fuck, this is your doing—don't you dare hold back. Keep going, keep fucking going, harder—fuck, do your duty and make me cum on that thick fucking cock."

Every deep thrust forces her further against the glass while you oblige, tits so helplessly pressed up so deliciously as you thrust like your life depends on it, keeping her pinned underneath, ass rippling as you pump in and out with each harsh movement. The hot water beating down on you only adds to the frantic, lewd sounds of your bodies crashing against one another, wet skin on wet skin, every moan amplified.

"There, just like that, sweetie. So good, love when you fuck me deep, fucking destroy me," Karina moans out, legs wobbling as they almost buckle from how roughly you plunge into her, limits already being tested. She sounds so beautiful, so blissed out when she claws at the glass, body unable to withstand your punishing thrusts, like there’s nothing left but succumbing to your cock.

"A-almost there, sweetie, oh my god don't fucking stop, fuck!" Karina lets out these careless moans, no regards for how loud she's being. Even the neighbors will hear—and she doesn't even fucking care, as long as you don't stop. She's far, far too lost in this, throwing her head back, screams escalating through the echoing walls of the shower. "Gonna cum, shit, I'm gonna fucking cum, sweetie, fucking make me—"

This sudden vice tightening around you is all you need to ensure Karina gets exactly what she demands as she trembles in your grip, falling apart. Another shriek echoes from her throat, clenching violently when her climax triggers, palms flat against the rattling glass, your hips so frantic as they slam against her, driving a few more quick, deep thrusts for good measure.

You can hear it all—and most importantly feel it, the erratic, uncontrolled way she shudders, the convulsing walls of her warm cunt proof you've done a job well done. So you keep pistoning into her, keep up the brutal pace of your hips, not slowing down or do anything but pound right through this blissful release,

"God, baby—“ Karina gasps out, weak and breathless, clinging onto the glass to not slump forward, already spent by her release, and yet her body can't even help itself when she grinds back, craving even more. “How, how do you keep doing that, making me cum so hard? Such a good fucking boy, keeping me so satisfied.”

There’s not much of an answer for that as Karina keeps her body flush against the glass, struggling to recover her breath while you thrust so deep. "But as much as I love your cock in me, I think we're running out of time…”

"Are we?"

"Yeah, so you better wrap this up and fill me. Right now, grab my fucking tits and empty those balls.”

You don't have it within you to hesitate, grabbing those heavy breasts, squeezing them tightly. Nothing beats this combination: all that supple flesh in your fingertips while your throbbing cock pummels the deepest depths of her, every inch inside her velvety cunt. Then all that’s left is to fuck her like your life depends on it, not a thought left but drilling with reckless abandon.

There’s nothing but your hips moving, the harsh slap of flesh, this greedy grope you give her chest like you just can’t get enough—which you can’t. You’ve got her pinned so hard against the shower, holding on to her tits as you just fuck her senseless, completely pounding into her cunt, keeping her stretched, using this perfect body to milk your cock.

“Rina, god—baby, your pussy, oh, fuck, I can't—I'm gonna cum," you groan, losing all control over yourself, barely able to give any warning. Not that Karina needs it when she can feel you throbbing, how much you’re going to erupt.

It doesn't take a second longer for Karina to get what she wants.

You fall apart and erupt into her, slamming one more time to bury yourself to the hilt as you empty inside her in thick, heavy bursts, each spurt more dizzying than the last. Karina clenches so harshly when you fill her to the brim, this heavenly squeeze when she greedily takes everything, milking it all out, demanding not a drop gets wasted. Everything leaves your balls in an urgent rush, right into her sopping cunt, sending her right over the edge one last time as she joins you in this blissful release.

“Filled me up so well, sweetie,” Karina murmurs through the bliss, every violent throb pushing her up against the glass window, pinned and helpless against the rough pounding of your thrusts until your hips decide to falter. “Now that you got everything out of your system, do you think you'll be able to survive the rest of the day?"

You only play with her tits in response, catching your breath as you lean against her body, kissing her shoulders from behind. "Probably not. But I'll manage, somehow. I guess."

She laughs softly at the admission, a quick tilt of her head to kiss you while you reluctantly withdraw your drenched cock , the mess leaking out from her freshly pounded, slick hole. As always, this is your favorite sight—all the white leaking from between her thighs and down to the shower tiles. But you know there's not enough time to appreciate this glorious view, because you'll never hear the end of it if you're responsible for making her late.

"If you really can't manage, you have all those pictures I’ve sent to tide you over. Jerk off on my panties if you need to, I don’t mind. Whatever helps you get by."

"Have a little more faith in me, would you? I'm not so far gone yet that I can't control myself for a little while. I'll survive."

"Could have fooled me," Karina responds as she exits the steamy shower, stepping onto the cool bathroom tile and reaching for her towel. “But maybe if I’m feeling generous, you’ll get some spicy new photos before I come back. If you behave, that is."

"Don't I always?"

"Hardly, sweetie." Karina wraps her arms around your neck, leaning into you and smiling adoringly. "But that's what I like about you."

"Couldn't live without me, could you?"

"Absolutely not. Or your cock," she teases back at you, giving your hair this playful little tousle while she pulls you in for a deep, lasting kiss. And the way Karina looks in just a towel—well, you try not to think too much about it.

"Okay, seriously. I need to get going now, or else I really will miss class. But maybe when I'm back—"

"Yeah?"

Karina cups your face and just stares for a moment, in deep thought, contemplating a thousand ideas. "I really am going to ride the fuck out of you. Maybe even tie you up again and make you beg like you never have before.”

"Can't wait."

"Neither can I, sweetie. See you soon."

#karina smut #aespa smut #kpop smut #reader insert #girl group smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #karina x reader #male reader

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vifilms · 29 days ago

Text

KNUCKLE VELVET, TORN ON MY TEETH

❝ VI!ONE SHOT ❞

pairing. pitfighter!vi x bartender!reader

warnings. eighteen+, nsfw content: arcane season two spoilers, soft angst, smut, bartender!reader, crashout!vi mends her cold heart, inexperienced!vi, switch!reader + vi, fem coded reader, coded alcohol addiction, slight spit kink, strap use.

KNUCKLE VELVET TORN ON MY TEETH, there's something charming about the pitfighter who doesn't stop drinking until she reaches the bottom of the barrel and the bartender who keeps walking her home.

wc. 7k+

rayray yaps. popping my vi!oneshot cherry, hehe, and i'm happy to do so. the vi brainrot has been real as fuck lately. i fear it's not going away anytime soon. but i wanted to give a special shoutout to @hypnagogics for proofreading this fic, means sm to me ily + my sweet bubba, @absfawn for the title name, i could kiss you until my lips fall off. the best people ever, i love them so much. okay, now i have yapped enough! happy reading, hope you enjoy.

Trapped in the abyss, just when everything had been taken from her life seems to sacrifice another offering on a silver platter. Something else that she thought could be hers, but wasn’t. In the end, all of it was the same. Life is the same. She takes three steps forward, circumstances out of her control take her apart like enforcers imposing their will on Zaun, and she’s forced to move five steps back. It’s all she feels, powerless.

Wanting nothing more than to drown her sorrows, forget all that she's lost. For everything that’s been taken, Vi feels an overpowering loss, threatening to take over everything she’s trying to build. But Vi thinks of none of it now, she can’t afford to think of one more thing. So, she doesn’t. All of her mind forgets. She forces herself to.

Zaun, Piltover, Jinx, Vander, Silco, and Cait.

She drowns in blood, sweat, and liquor for nights to come. She forgets everything and you are just the cherry top on this one shitty sundae. Anytime she’s here, Vi manages to get herself into a fight. Each time. Every time she tries to apologize or hold an ounce of guilt in her eyes, you see right through her crystal blues. From the very first night, you called her bullshit. Even if Vi didn’t give in, it was hard to hide her small smirk.

She lets herself think it’s because you’re a bartender. You practically get paid to read people, listen to them vent about shit you probably don’t give two shits about and break up the fights that erupt every thirty minutes. Overinflated egos and drunken assholes weren’t a great mix. The jury was still out if you though Vi was one. She could have both, she didn’t really talk much. Vi fought, drank until she couldn’t see straight, and you helped her up to her small apartment right across the street and up the steps into her said apartment.

No matter how hard she tries, it always ends the same. Vi looking like an imbecile and you, the pretty bartender who shuts down every advance she throws your way. Vi wonders who had a stronger shell, what you’re hiding in order to protect yourself.

Maybe she is just an asshole.

“You don’t have to walk me up here. I-I can make it just fine on my own.”

As soon as your fingertips let go of her fragile frame, Vi’s inebriated body collapses on the concrete steps, grabbing onto the metal framing as if her life depends on it.

“Really? Now you wanna prove a point?”

“For your information, I’m always in it to prove a point.”

Even if your words are harsh, with a soft smile and a hand open, Vi takes it as you let her lean on your weight as you assist her up the steps. There’s little shame to be had once the two of you make it in. It isn’t like the first time and when she noticed the scrunch of your nose in taking the smell, tequila and grease. Vi thought it was cute but she halts any further thought.

Quickly, Vi disposed of her leather jacket and pants she’s left in boxers and the wrap protecting her chest. The part of her life that seems to be kept together. She doesn’t really mind it though, you. Seeing her like this. Even more so, she enjoys it. You’re always so dismissive at the bar, hardly holding eye contact, turning down any flirting she hurls your way. Just like the vomit Vi had nearly thrown up on your shoes but made a quick diversion for the bush to the right of her instead.

This is truly the only time she knows you want her. Not so subtly, your eyes trace her like each pinpoint of your gaze is painting her on a clean canvas, one Vi wonders if she’ll like or not. When she’s been around you, she’s been wondering about a lot of things — thoughts she quite literally can’t afford.

It’s her, nothing ever ends well when her feelings can get crushed on the other side.

Everything she touches burns to ash before she can even hold it for a moment, a second of symphony retaliates with years of misery. How could you be any different? She wishes you would burn her underneath your gaze, put her out of the misery she feels growing every day, but you don’t. You’re always pulling her out of trouble when you truly don’t have to. It’s not your job to take care of her or hell, even look after her.

But you do and she can’t seem to figure out why.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Just shut the fuck up and let me help you. Not everyone has a motive. Some people just like to help when someone is so clearly struggling.”

“I’m not—”

You give her a glare that seems to shut her up. You draw a bath for her. It’s easy to find her towels in the only cabinet. It’s an acute studio apartment. More so of a small room with a stove stop, minimal counter space, and one bathroom enough to bathe and brush her teeth in. There isn’t much left of it but it’s hers. Grabbing the first aid kit, you kneel between her legs, the mattress sits on the floor, her legs spread and stretching out in front of you.

“Let me help you. Alright?” Vi grumbles, a incoherent complaint, but she lets you tend to her wounds.

It’s mainly just cleaning off her dry blood as she still complains in the process, but there’s a few cuts on her face and her cheeks are already beginning to bruise. It’s not a secret, she bruises like a peach but she always makes sure her opponent is leaving a lot more with just a few cuts and a bruise the size of a plum.

It’s then, when you’re concentrating on the cuts on her face, the busted lip she’s sporting; she looks at you. Maybe it’s the first time she has, but without even realizing it, she gets lost. Not in the way Vi doesn’t know who she is, that she’s completely lost on, but Vi sees you.

Bright-eyed, optimistic, helpful, kind — all attributes she couldn’t claim but wears like a badge of honor. As if helping others instills you with a sense of purpose, something that’s always been a lost cause to her. Fight until the next fight, and the next, and the next. That’s what she’s done, she's always been a fighter. She’s fallen back on it when needed. It’s clear to her. Like a vision she could see, crystal clear through some stupid ball, it’s always been about survival.

But how much longer does she want to fight and how much more does she have in her?

“Thanks.” Vi speaks softly.

Not knowing where to place her palms, she settles for her thigh. Silent as she watches, nearly analyzing every moment, every glance, every little thing you’re doing. It’s sobering to say the least. You don’t need to be delicate but you are. It’s more kindness than she deserves, nearly leaving a bitter taste on her tongue but when you offer a small smile and a soft whisper, you’re welcome.

It’s the sweetest thing Vi has ever seen.

There’s something different in the way you look at her. The soft omission exposes how sweet on Vi you may be. Definitely more than you’d let on, which was well…none. Up until tonight, she thought you hated her. With each word uttered in your direction, Vi assumed you’d rather swallow bile than stomach her slurred, flirty speech.

“Why do you want to help? It’s not like I’ve exactly been—”

“Kind?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

This time Vi lets the smile reach her eyes and your smile gets even sweeter. She can practically feel the sweetness rotting her teeth as she speaks. It’s the first time she feels something new, something as bright as the light radiating through your eyes.

“You just seem different. Even if you do try to hide it.”

With a flush of crimson coating the apple of her cheeks, she’s never been quite as exposed as this. The next few weeks are spent with less drinking, but Vi frequents the bar just as much as she did before. She orders a few pints just to talk to you. She’s learning more about you, slowly but surely, you’re opening up more. Divulging information you wouldn’t have before, trust is earned. It’s something you told her the first night you met and to this day, Vi still remembers it.

Regardless of how drunk she’d been when you said it.

It’s a typical night. Vi flirted with you but you aren’t being dismissive tonight but you’re careful enough to not let her know exactly how you feel. Everything you say is guarded enough you keep her on her toes, for a moment she thinks she might have to become a ballerina. It’s a slow night, Wednesday. Go figure Vi thinks. There was a woman who’d also been flirting with you all night. Vi thought she was beautiful, sweet, funny…certainly was making you laugh all night.

Part of Vi wanted to feel jealous but it feels too good hearing you laugh, she says nothing. Maybe you just don’t like women. Vi was known for reading into things too much, thinking everyone thought with their heart first just like she did, and assuming every hot and attractive woman was into other women — just like she is.

But the brunette left before closing, leaving Vi and a few other regulars paying their tab as they stumbled home with a belly full of liquor of their choosing.

“Alright Vi, don’t you have somewhere to be? Maybe getting some sleep for the night?”

“I don’t sleep much, it’s better if I don’t.”

“Keeps the nightmares away.”

All Vi does is nod.

“Story of the century.” You take Vi’s empty pint before washing it dispersing in the sink before cleaning up the remainder of the bar top. “Everyone’s got one around here and the new one is usually even more depressing than the last.”

“What about yours?”

“If you wanna hear that, I’ll have to be the one doing the drinking.” You smile but it’s the first one Vi recognizes as insincere.

“Yeah, seems to be the stone cold requirement for a heart to heart.”

Vi’s silent as you vent to her about the customer who refused to pay up tonight until you threatened to kick his ass and that wasn't enough, you threatened Letty on him. Vi found herself only slightly entranced as you spoke with such color, your animated voice doing impressions of the stubborn patreon, moving your hands as you speak, eyebrows furrowed as you finished the story.

You’re done cleaning and are ready to close by the time you finish, locking the door as Vi stuffs her hands in her pockets, “Can I ask you something?”

You cling to your bag like a lifeline. Vi notices how tight your grip is on the strap, almost as if you’re afraid. Of what? She has a craving to find out. “Why’d you turn her away? She seemed plenty interested. Not your type?”

You take a step forward, just as close as the last time you were in her apartment, tending to wounds she wouldn’t have really cared about but still she let you clean them.

You didn’t have to know that. Not yet, anyway.

“No, not really. I like my women a little rough around the edges, stumbling out of bars so wasted they can’t even walk home by themselves.” You smirk, grabbing the lapel of her leather jacket as you tug her closer to you. “Or is that what you want me to say?”

“Is it true?”

You both know the hope in her eyes is dangerous.

Hope.

A foreign concept in Zaun. If you get too close to the flame, you’ll get burned, dusting into ash as if you never existed. It’s what shimmer did to people, wipe them off the map until they reformed into a shell of what they used to be. You didn’t just get out of a place like this, not without some help. Vi could barely even help herself.

The both of you know it’s a bad idea. A terrible, god awful idea, but you still move in closer to her. Vi notices and she wipes the smirk off her face, your warm hands finding purchase on her exposed hips, drawing soft circles on her hip bones. She likes it, even when her heart feels torn from being blown to bits by a certain blue-eyed beauty.

Vi likes you.

“Your skin is softer than I thought it would be, smooth like pure silk. Not that I’ve ever touched it before but I’ve got to believe it would feel a lot like this.”

Vi feels a tingle up her spin, your touch is overwhelming, more than she bargained for really. A stumbling, messy kiss is all she really expected if anything. Not this. Clearly, you knew what to do. Leaving Vi a little clueless in that department, she’s knocked off her feet once again but this time in a way she wants to be. But actually bringing something this special to anything more than a few flirty quips? It never seems to be her strong suit.

So, she puts her best foot forward. Her big stupid mouth, one she can never quite fully silence. “I can guarantee my lips feel a lot softer.”

“Vi—” You speak her name like a warning, an unspoken law you’re breaking by entertaining your feelings and the bubbling sentiments you hold for her close to your heart. You know better than to keep it so close, but the halo in her eyes blinds you to reason and you let it.

“It’s Violet but you can call me whatever you want, sweets.”

You chuckle at the pet name.

“Just one night. That’s it. Just to get it out of our system.”

“One night, sweets. It’s all I need.”

—

It’s how you ended up here, the third night in a row since the first, trapped under the web of Vi and her eager mouth. Slender, perfectly sculpted fingers feel like a hex to your cunt, every moment causing you to fall further into her spell. To say she has a certain talent would be considered an understatement. It’s clear Vi’s enjoying herself, fuck, damn near suffocates herself in your weeping cunt. Last night wasn’t nearly enough, she needs to have you, again. Not that you were complaining.

As much as you hate to admit it, there has been no one as generous as her. As good as her, as sweet, as kind, and she did whatever the hell you asked for. Nothing has beaten the first night, her thumping clit nudging against your as she hiked one of your legs over her toned shoulders.

It’s not a secret how built she is, far from it, but it’s another thing entirely to watch her flexed bicep ripple with every grind of her hips. Each movement seems to be calculated with precision, focused on doing more than just making herself feel good. With pure determination, glazed over crystal blue eyes, and a pouty scarred lip, she makes sure you’re enjoying this as much as her. With each moan you let slip, her confidence only grows until she’s commanded full control over you. She takes what she wants from you and in return you’re seeing stars behind your eyes, constellations created in the shape of her name as you come.

“That’s it pretty girl, just for me, yeah?” Vi talks you through as she works you through your orgasm with her strong hips, not stopping even after you’ve cum. She wants more and Vi pulls three more orgasms out of you before she’s done for the night. You expected her to be good. There was no shocker there but you didn’t expect her to be so sweet afterwards. Vi is a drunk, an addict, whether she wants to accept it or not. You could be just another object she’s addicted to. Somehow, you convince yourself it’s just a one time thing. It doesn’t mean anything, it won’t.

Truthfully it feels much more than just a one night stand, more than an itch being scratched — the blossoming ache in your soul feels tethered to your heart every time Vi makes you feel an ounce of love — even when she tries to hide it behind a wall. Whether you’re aware, the wall can’t seem to stop crumbling. Brick by brick, it’s coming undone just as you have. Weak-willed and with purpose, you fall into her.

There isn’t an inch of your body Vi didn’t kiss. Her lips tattooing every inch of your skin with marked affection, almost as if she’s mending your skin with the burn of her lips. When she claims your soft lips, haunting you with the salvation of perfection as her velvet tongue invades your mouth, the taste of you melting from her tongue to yours. The silent declaration you didn’t ask for but craved, the carnal moan leaving her mouth as she chuckles when your hips pathetically grind into hers.

Vi enjoys your company, that much is clear, but this time you bring her to your place. It’s more or less the same. Both of you coming down from the highest of highs, you feel sticky, dirty, and damn right heavenly. Vi disappears into your bathroom, grabbing a wash rag before dampening the material underneath a warm faucet. Carefully, she kneels by your hips, legs twitching softly as her skilled fingers find your slit before Vi’s sucking the digit in your mouth.

“I just wanted one last taste before I clean you up.”

As she has before, Vi makes good on her promise and cleans you up. She enjoys when the pad of her thumb grazes against your clit, terribly overstimulated, your stomach twitches. All Vi can do is chuckle.

“I’m just a little—”

“Sensitive?” Vi smirks as you hide your face in the palm of her hands, the pad of her thumb gently caressing your skin.

It’s the lightest she’s felt in weeks. Almost as if she’s floating on a cloud, she wants to stay up there in the cloudiest of nines. Just you and her and an aging mattress as she offers you everything she can give. Albeit, it isn’t much but she’ll still freely give.

Like a dog with a bone, Vi corners you on the third night when it’s just you and her in the bar. Closing time has long since arrived and vanished into the crisp air of the night but Vi has you bent over the bar, desperation clawing at the weathered countertop of the bar as Vi’s fingers fucks your pretty little hole while her tongue laps at the slick that’s dripping out of you. Your pretty little skirt pushed up, your panties pushed to the side as she laps and sucks at your juices. She can feel you dripping onto her chin and it only makes her that much more eager to swallow every bit you have to offer.

“We shouldn’t be doing this—” Fuck. Vi starts doing tricks with her tongue, sliding in another finger, pushing against the soft spot buried deep as she toys with you in the way knows best. “We, um, Vi we said just one night.”

“Shut the fuck up and take it like a good girl. Or did you forget?” Vi moans into your cunt, the vibrations causing your thighs to shake under her mouth. “It’s not like you were complaining last night.”

Vi silences you as her pace picks up, her fingers fucking you at such a pretty pace, feeling the build grow in the pit of your stomach edging to come to a full bloom.

All of you begging for it to be released. Vi uses her free hand to slap your ass, sending you moaning and lurching forward. You push yourself back grinding against her tongue, before she removes her divine mouth as she kisses up your spine, her fingers stuffed inside you not faltering for a moment.

Vi continues to kiss up your spine until she reaches the nape of your neck, her breath kissing your skin, your body shivers into her touch. Full lips ghost over your ear before whispering quietly, “Are you sure you want me to stop? I will if you want me to. I just thought you might wanna, you know, take my cock tonight. Give it a good ride.”

The moan you let out would put Aphrodite’s to shame, needy and choked sobs escape you as her fingers thrust inside you faster than they have before.

“Oh? Do you like the sound of that, babygirl? Want to show me how good you can be for me?” Vi doubled down on her efforts, enjoying how much you arched into her body, your hips pushing back as you grind into quick fingers. She’s fucking you better than well…anyone.

“Vi, please.” Your voice catches in your throat, hoarse and full of need. An insatiable craving; one you fear only she can provide. A few mindless days and careless flirting to land in her sheets, her in yours, the details didn’t truly matter. A vampire out for blood, almost more venomous than precious canines breaking the skin, you yearned to suck on every last drop. But she didn’t seem to be in a mind frame to relinquish control.

“Please what? I’m not sure if I understand you.”

All of it, so tantalizing, so fucking infuriating. Three fingers inside you, effectively making you silent, shutting you up as she brings you closer to the edge. That’s the thing, truthfully, Vi has you right where she wants. Only a few thrusts away until you come undone around her. The black haired succubus increases the pace, thumb playing with your clit, her calloused fingers increasing your high as she applies more pressure on the thousands of nerve endings on your precious pearl.

“Shit. You’re gonna pay for this.”

“What? For making you come? I hardly constitute that as a crime.”

Your hands reach for the counter top, you’re not sure what exactly you want, but Vi makes you come for the first time that night. It’s a game, the push and pull. Dangerous. Intoxicating. Some disposition falling far from your fingertips, a game to her and a downward hill spiral for you. Addiction festering next to an open wound and the only antidote can be found on her tongue. Tasting the devil’s mouth is one thing but swallowing the sensation of the woman you’re beginning to love is something else entirely.

Vi, despite her best efforts not to, makes you fall over the edge. It’s more than her eager tongue and expectant mouth slurping at the vindication of your taste. The craving builds like an exposed vein. Her confidence irrevocably soars like a raven through the midnight sky. Even if Vi acts like she’s done this before, you could pull the curiosity intertwined with naivety a mile away. Violet has never done this before, not with a woman at least, you’re sure of it. She’s a fast learner and such a great accomplishment should replenish such a reward.

With the energy you have left, you push your skirt down first, as Vi puts your underwear back in place. She doesn’t stop touching you. She can’t. There isn’t much she feels she has control over, this arrangement being one of them. She’s good at this and Vi enjoys it. Every other part of her life, failure surrounds her, her ability not to please anyone in her life.

In a constant loop, she finds herself caught in the crossfire. Tugged between sister and lover, family and righteousness. Her enemy becomes her lover and lover becomes enemy — all of it poisons her blood and cures her core — and all of it makes her hear a voice she doesn’t recognize but it’s just as true as the four walls surrounding her.

Oil and water.

Collecting like scars on her porcelain skin, Vi feels herself sink like an obliterating star. There’s a wonder settled in her chest, it feels heavy and weak, two incapable fists unable to surround her heart with anything but loss, betrayal even. She can’t punch her way out of this one.

All of it wakes a fire in her chest, a dagger being punctured in her heart by the one Vi thought she could trust the most. She doesn’t want to admit it so she doesn’t.

But this? It feels easy.

She needs easy, light, even good. Maybe she doesn’t deserve it.

Vi definitely doesn’t, the sentence flows like a never-ending stream of waterfall continuously drowning her. The blood on her hands stains her perception of all things pure, she wonders how she even sees you at all. How you see her more vividly than anyone, possibly even Cait. There’s no judgment, no snarky remark of where she comes from. Even if she thought there had once been love, Vi questions it now.

When you come, it feels like a breath of fresh air, a golden wave washing over her sinful hands. Each stroke of gold, your grit and blind hopefulness soaks Vi’s entity. This is what she wants. There’s nothing more than this, someone she could love, who loves her. It’s uncomplicated but the feeling flees as you come to it. Vi can’t help but feel regretful as you cover your ass, it’s such a pretty sight. She can’t stop that she’s greedy, you’ve fed her for the first time in her life and now Vi feels full but she’s only human.

A sinner always craves more.

She lets her touch linger on the gold between your thighs, pushing the white substance back into you before Vi lets you feel how wet you are, the dripping slick feels uncomfortable caged into cotton underwear and she wants you to feel it. The breath Vi hears are still heavy, impossibly heavy, and there’s pride in hearing you center yourself, back pressed against her chest as Vi keeps you in place.

The pleasure within your body begins to slither away as you come back into the angel you are and not the sexual deviant bent over the woman who never pulls her punches.

“Felt good, yeah?” Vi says. Her angelic, sweeter than the cotton candy stick in your teeth, voice penetrates through. You like it too much. It shouldn’t make you feel as good as it does. Desperately, you want to keep this casual but you’re even losing your footing.

You pride yourself on the lack of attachment; you don’t need it. Never really had. But then with her it seems to change even faster than the seasons, your wall breaks somehow in between from spring to summer. With intent, you move around, her bright eyes have darken a bit but the fading light looks brighter than you’ve ever seen it.

Fuck, Vi is making this difficult.

“You could say that.” You speak softly, a tremble in your voice occurs but Vi says nothing but she does smirk. “Can I ask you something?”

You turn around and suddenly Vi is staring at your exposed cleavage, the one you use to draw in patreons and to fill your pockets with as many tips as one can muster. Vi had been one, a faithful one trying to drink her away to the bottom of every bottle until she found something else for her. Something that didn’t leave a burn in her throat.

“What is it?”

“Was it your first time? The first night?”

Sheepishly, Vi blushes. For a second, she contemplates lying but you’d see right through it. Right through her. It would only take one look in her blues and you would know.

“That obvious?” Vi struggles with her words next but she manages to murmur a lame excuse. “Stillwater didn’t leave much time for this.”

“And after?” You tease but the sincerity in your eyes soothes her.

“There could have been but there wasn’t. Some things just don’t fit.” Oil and water is what she wants to say but she bites her tongue.

“You should have told me. I wouldn’t have been so, I don’t know, selfish?”

“There’s nothing selfish about it. I wanted to make you feel good. Did you enjoy yourself?” This time she makes your skin feel hot. Fuck.

“Yeah, I did enjoy myself,” you pressed against her as your arms loop around Vi’s necks to bring her closer “but I think it’s officially my turn to offer my services. Don’t you think so?”

It’s how Vi ends up here, in your place, in your bed — soaked.

If there was one thing you knew, it was how to please someone. You managed to pull whimpers out of her she didn’t even know existed. The desperate plea coming from her shivering body as she spilled in your mouth the first time sent a shiver down her spine, the band in her stomach snapping as you sloppily spit on her cunt, constant circles of pressure on her clit seeing nothing but your eyes look up at her.

Not letting a single drop go to waste, you fucked Vi through it, swallowing her completely. Vi shed the wrap covering her chest next. Her body bruised from the pit fights but you couldn’t think of anyone more beautiful than her. You paid attention to her collarbones, neck, and her tits. Sucking on her nipples as Vi tries to come down from the high you placed her on, she doesn’t think she ever will.

She tries not to think that she wanted these things with Caitlyn. Cait. Cupcake.

Vi only allows herself to think of her when she’s dreaming, visions of what that could have been, what she used to be. All of it so trivial, so senseless when she thinks of you. How you make her feel is different and she tries not to think of what it all means.

One night.

Then two.

Now three.

In another life, maybe she was stronger, and didn't need to be wanted. Hell, even needed. She could wait for someone who she thought loves her but the other part of her doesn’t want to think, she wants to feel. Vi likes feeling the softness of your skin, the light in your laughter, the swell of your exposed chest, the way your greedy eyes take in her abs, your soft lips kissing every part of her skin. The smooth, the scarred, the unworthy — you take it all in such stride.

“Do you want to stop? I think I lost you for a second.” You inquire to the pretty girl beneath you, her hands find your waist, creating makeshift circles on your hip bones.

“No, that’s the last thing I want.” Vi brings you to her lips, capturing your bottom lip, tongue invading your mouth. She tastes herself as your tongue melts with hers and the rest of her worries melt away. It’s just you and her. “I want to keep going.”

“Then tell me what you want, baby. I’ll do whatever you want. It’s yours if you want it.”

It’s spoken as a reminder. All of this is her decision. Vi decides when she wants this, how she wants it, and you’re letting her take all of it in the way she needs. Vi tried not to think the first couple times, she never wanted her first time to be a big deal. Maybe with Caitlyn it could have been, but then she changed.

Vi thought maybe she could too. So, she did.

“Can you—” Vi stutters. Yet again her attention gets pulled to your tits, the softness of your stomach, she can’t stop looking at you. As if she’s trying to remember everything about you. She’s committed to it. Vi wants to remember the soft curves of your hips, the way you moan when she comes on your tongue.

The sight of you looking down at her makes she lose every rational thought, she wants to commit to memory forever. It won’t be something she easily forgets.

“Gotta speak up, babygirl. Especially if you want me to keep my attention focused on this pretty cunt of yours.”

You sit between her legs, tilting your head, you look at her glistening pussy, the way it shines with her cum and your sloppy spit. It would look even more exquisite with a little more. Taking a beat as you take your time, you gather enough in your mouth before spitting slowly, Vi whimpering as your spit makes contact with her lower pair of lips. She couldn’t stop it, it slips and you’re grinning, hips desperately bucking to feel more of it.

“F-Fuck, need your cock. Please? I need it more than anything.” Vi confesses. There’s no need for dignity, especially if she keeps it and you won’t give her what she’s itching for.

“Yeah? Are you sure about it? Don’t want you backing out just in case you can’t be a good girl and take it.”

She can take it but she can’t take the countless teasing, trapped underneath the images drowning in her mind. This is what she wants, someone to dissolve into her, make her forget everything that has happened, just a pretty girl with some pretty tits who knows how to fuck. Right? That’s all this is. It’s all it can be tonight. Her lip is busted from the fight tonight, knuckles bloodied and bruised, but you don’t seem to mind all that much. It’s all the same to you. Vi is all the same, that’s been clear from the start.

Then, she decides to let her mind get shut off, let herself fall into you. You did know how to take care of her and tonight she would let you.

“Let me know if it’s too much, okay?”

“I promise.”

Once the harness is on, you wedge yourself in between her thighs, tattooed and toned, brave and brawny but she transforms into someone else entirely once you’re sinking inside her warm walls. You think about what it would feel like to feel her. Is she clenching around your cock? Would you feel the throbbing heartbreak of her clit? What you can hear is the whimper, uncontrollable and breathtaking, you slip further into her as you make home in her beautiful cunt.

She’s made it yours to take. You’d do anything and everything for her, the thought alone scares so you do what you do best, you grind your hips slowly. Not wanting to overwhelm her too quickly, it’s the first time she’s taking penetration and you want it to be good for her.

“You’re so perfect. Doing so good for me, taking my cock like a fucking champ.” You whisper out, taking too much enjoyment in her getting lost in your soft thrusts. Vi’s chest starts to heave as her hips roll into yours. Vi never even imagined wanting this, or that she could really have it with someone else. It’s not like she’s experienced, she has nothing to compare it to, but it feels incredibly intimate.

She likes how you’re being with her. Soft, gentle, delicate. Vi thought she’d never want to feel that way, but maybe it’s just under the right circumstance in the right light.

“Shit, shit, shit” Vi chants as your hand grabs the headboard, giving her one particular powerful thrust. Perky tits spring to life, jolting against the sudden movement, her moan so fucking load, as you continue your movements. This time not as hard, but you pick up your pace, wanting to see if she would have any arguments against it but Vi doesn’t. Profanities and whimpers leave her mouth as you split her on your cock. Face half-smashed into the pillow, trying to muffle her moans and you offer this one mercy.

She’s still shy.

Now is a good time as any to fuck it out of her.

“Do you want more Vi? Want me to go…faster?” Placing a hand on her abdomen, the abs defined and clenching as you halt your thrust for a moment. “Do you wanna feel me in your stomach, baby?”

“Can you even do that? I’m not so sure you’re even capable. Looks like the rookie knows more moves than the veteran.” Vi bites back. But it doesn’t last for long. Vi thinks she must have said the wrong thing, pushed you too far, you slipped off her but only to move her body to the edge of the bed, placing her on all fours right in front of a very convenient mirror.

“Fine. Thought I’d be sweet but that isn’t what you really want. If you want to get treated like a whore, I’ll fuck you like one.” You take a beat to appreciate her wonderfully sculpted back, the artwork is truly exquisite. It feels so much like her but the foolish girl is smirking at you through the mirror.

You know you’ve been caught ogling at her body, checking out every inch of her exposed body, you slap her ass in retaliation but she just grinds her ass back onto you.

“I’m waiting.” Teasingly, Vi arches her spine more. “Where’s the whore fucking you’re muling about?”

In one move, you’re inside her, fucking her beautiful face into the mattress. Never in her life has she felt so full, so good, so sweet. You grab her by the meat of her hips, bringing you back on her repeatedly. Vi wonders what she would give to have this, have you, and the thought scares her just as badly. She instead focused on you.

Tits bouncing as you thrust into her at a punishing pace. Divinely and so perfectly you, making her see stars, she feels trapped. Not in a punishing way, but in a way that has her never wanting to leave the entrapments of your coaxing cock. At this moment, this is where she’s meant to be, just a toy for you to use.

But it’s more than what meets the eye. If Vi was just a toy, you’d be done after the first night. Tonight, you weren’t using her for your own pleasure. You seemed perfectly content to give. The shine in her eyes gave you something only she could, edging you even further, a constant wave hitting Vi like a tidal wave making home on the shore.

“God, you’re just too perfect. Fuck, just like that, take what’s yours.” Bouncing back on the strap, the words fall from her lips before she can’t stop them. Overflowing like a water fountain, it’s before she really even realizes what she’s saying, it just feels right.

“Mommy, please.”

Vi has had those words on the tip of her tongue but not that you’re fucking her into a different dimension, she lets the aching plea slip from sinful lips. It’s only once but it’s enough to set you off. You pull Vi up, her gorgeous back pressed against your chest, sitting on your thighs as you fuck up into her. Brutally, she takes everything you have to give.

Sweat glistening across her body, accentuating her chest as she tries to compose herself but you don’t give her the option. No. It would be too easy, wouldn’t it?

“I want you to watch, Violet. Watch yourself when you cum, be a good girl and show me how pretty you look, hm? Wouldn’t wanna disappoint, Mommy, now would you?”

Vi sucks on your middle digit, tongues swirling as she feels the tight band in her stomach, threatening to snap. She’s close. When the sensationally soft pad of your thumb applies pressure on her clit, Vi’s done for.

“Shit, oh my fucking god, baby baby babbyyyyy.” Incoherent murmurs and moans come in abundance as Vi bounces herself your cock, falling right apart as you toy with her clit, fucking her through the impending high. Your other arm tweaks around and up, fingers squeezing her tits, over stimulating her as she slumps against you.

It’s the easiest task ever done. Submit to you, your skilled fingers, the power of your sinfully sensational thrusts, she comes all over you. The powerful demeanor weakens before your very eyes. When you gently move her back on the bed, slipping out of her, Vi’s eyes begin to water from the loss.

The first time getting strapped down is always a lot to handle, you’d still taken it easier on her, too afraid you would push her too far but by the blissed out eyes, she’d enjoyed herself. She had enjoyed herself and you couldn’t really ask for much more.

When the both of you are cleaned up, Vi cuddles into your frame and you let her. Even if your first instinct is to push her away, saying something you know that’ll hurt her, none of it finds any merit on your tongue. For the first time, you find it difficult to turn away a pretty girl, her lips kissing your collarbones, up your neck until she finds home on your own lips, sloppily invading your mouth with your tongue.

Hitting you where it hurts, she moans your name in her mouth, unable to contain the neediness she feels around you. It’s worse than Cait. This is pure addiction entangled with something carnal. Vi knows if she doesn’t get to fuck you again, you fucking her cunt again, she might as well give up on life now.

“I could go again.”

You chuckle. Of course she could.

“Don’t know rookie, that might be all you can handle for the night.”

It’s a challenge and you know she’ll bite the bait.

With ease she gets on top of you, and just as if she’s done it a hundred times, Vi sinks on your cock, “I think I can handle another ride, don’t you?”

#m'actually kinda proud of this one #i hope y'all like it :')#lmk what you think <3 #vi #vi arcane #arcane league of legends #league of legends #vi smut #vi x reader #vi x you #vi arcane x reader #wlw post #wlw fanfiction #lesbian #violet arcane x reader #vi x fem reader #arcane x you #violet arcane

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yuujispinkhair · 8 months ago

Note

Sukuna’s the type of baby daddy that even if you break you never really broke up 😭 and if you got pregnant again there no chance in hell it could be anyone else’s kid besides his

The love you and Sukuna have is world-changing. Even after you break up, you are both still stuck on the other and unable to move on.

Pairing: Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: Hurt + comfort, fluff, mentions of smut Word Count: 1.5k Warnings: 18+, mentions of smut but nothing explicit. Reader and Sukuna break up, but they get back together at the end of the story. There is a happy end. They already have a daughter together, and another pregnancy is mentioned at the end. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact. Divider @/benkeibear

It's not that you aren't trying to get over Sukuna. You really do. After a week of crying your eyes out, you decide to go out. It's not even that hard to get chatted up by some guy at a bar. But when his hand lands on your knee, you practically bolt. It feels so wrong, so dirty somehow. As if your body is still Sukuna's territory and no one else is worthy of touching you.

You try again a week later and the week after, too. But none of the men you meet spark your interest. Maybe this shouldn't come as a surprise. After all, only a few weeks ago, you had Sukuna. You had the best. There simply is no one who can compare to him. No one will ever make you feel the way Sukuna did.

You regret the breakup. It was stupid. Just small things that accumulated over several weeks, combined with a bad day at work and Sukuna being grumpy when you got home. You could have handled it differently.

But now, your bed always feels cold, and your heart doesn't seem to be in your chest anymore. Instead, there is a stone in your chest, heavy and painful, while your heart is in another part of this city, in the hands of the man who will always be the one for you, even if you will never get back together with him again.

+++

Sukuna asks to see his child, but you feel unable to face him, so you cowardly text him back, telling him to just pick your daughter up from kindergarten and spend the afternoon with her. When Sukuna brings her home in the evening, you are relieved that he seems to have gotten the hint. He doesn't come inside but waits at the front door as your daughter runs up the stairs to your apartment.

But you aren't strong enough not to hurry to the large window that faces the street, gazing outside to see Sukuna's familiar tall, broad figure slowly stroll down the street toward his car. His pink hair looks just like the cherry blossoms that fall down onto the road like pretty, pink snowflakes.

You know you will never be able to look at cherry trees again without feeling sadness wash over you.

Maybe you will try going on another date with some new guy, but deep down, you know that it will be in vain. It will always feel wrong. It will always feel like something is missing. Because none of those men are Sukuna. No one can be like him. There is only one Sukuna. Everyone else will always just be second best.

Sukuna isn't even trying to get over you. Not anymore.

On the first night after your breakup, he was a mess and stormed off to some bar, desperate for a distraction. Anything that would keep him from getting overwhelmed by his feelings.

He had some drinks and flirted with a random girl. Even took her home, thinking that sex would help him feel better. But the moment she tried to unbutton his shirt, Sukuna grabbed her wrists and stopped her.

It felt wrong. He felt wrong. As if he was cheating on you. He told the girl to leave and watched with his arms crossed as she angrily slammed his door shut before Sukuna sank down on his couch and buried his face in his hands.

He knew right then and there that it was no use to go out and try to have hookups. It wouldn't work, and it sure as hell would only make him feel worse.

In the following weeks, Sukuna worked longer and spent more time at the gym, always trying to stay busy because as soon as he got home to his deadly silent apartment, he was drowning in thoughts about you. Drowning in all those happy memories the two of you had made over the years.

You were Sukuna's love, his heart, his everything. He hadn't known or understood love until he met you. So how is he supposed to ever get over you and move on? It's impossible. You are still his everything, and you will always be.

And so it's clear as day to Sukuna that he won't even try to move on. He knows he will always be yours, whether you are together or not. He was only able to give his heart away once. And even if you don't want it anymore, it still belongs to you.

+++

Sukuna spends two days every week with his daughter, happy to see his little girl but sad because he misses the time when all three of you did things together. And when she looks at him with your eyes and asks him, "Daddy, why don't you just come home again?" Sukuna feels his heart shatter into a million pieces.

Sukuna doesn't know what to tell her. He, too, can't understand why the two of you decided to break up. It was stupid. Nothing big caused it. Just small things that added up, and looking back they seem insignificant.

"I don't know, princess. Maybe Daddy should really go home and talk to Mommy."

He decides at that moment that he will get roses and come up to your door this evening.

+++

Sukuna's chest feels painfully tight when you open the door, and he sees your face again after all those weeks, hitting him with just how much he missed you.

He hands you the roses, a beautiful huge bouquet that cost a little fortune, his eyes gazing deeply into yours,

"Please take those flowers. They come without any obligation to take me back or even talk to me. But I want to give them to you because you are still the mother of my child. And... and you will always be my woman, just like I will always be your man, even if we aren't together."

He fears he sounds like a creep, that he overstepped a boundary, and that he made you uncomfortable. But he has had lots of time to think during the last few weeks, and he promised himself that he would be more open about his feelings if he ever gets a chance to talk to you again.

You stare at Sukuna for a moment that feels like hours to him. But then he sees the tears gathering in your eyes and sees the way your hand that's holding the flowers is trembling. You breathe a soft "Kuna..." and Sukuna knows. He knows that you are still his, just like he is still yours.

He pulls you into his arms a split second later, crushing the beautiful roses between your bodies as he hugs you tightly. And you melt so perfectly against him as if you are made for him. Your face is pressed against his broad chest, and you snuggle against him, every centimeter of you touching him. You cling to him so tightly that it's almost painful, but it's the first time since your breakup that Sukuna feels like he can breathe again.

"I am sorry. I am so sorry for everything."

You both speak the words at the same time, eyes locked, small relieved smiles playing around your mouths.

You tell Sukuna to stay for dinner, and he agrees. He takes over the kitchen again, his kitchen, and prepares a dinner that he knows his two girls always loved. He sits at your table again, jokes around with his little daughter, and basks in the way you look at him with your eyes full of happiness.

Sukuna doesn't just stay for dinner but stays the whole night.

He kisses you after the two of you bring your daughter to bed. Pushes you gently against the wall and claims your lips again, though deep down, he knows that those lips always belonged to him, even when you were apart.

He grins when you laugh when he picks you up and carries you princess-style to the bedroom. Your lips are on his again, kissing him as if you can't get enough of him, making it hard to walk, but Sukuna would find his way to your bedroom even blind.

He locks the door behind you, turning around only to find your hands on his chest, unbuttoning his shirt while your lips find his again in another passionate but tender kiss that makes Sukuna moan softly into your mouth.

He makes slow love to you in the bed you bought together all those years ago, showing you what it feels like to be loved and desired and cherished endlessly. And you wrap your arms and legs around him and meet each of his slow thrusts while you moan his name softly, and tears run down your cheeks, showing Sukuna the same love he is showing you.

Sukuna doesn't leave again after that night.

The two of you talk things out, and only a week later, Sukuna finally puts a ring on your finger and tells your little daughter that she needs to pick a pretty dress because she will be a flower girl at the wedding.

And only a month later, you place a positive pregnancy test on Sukuna's pillow, making both of you burst out laughing when you realize that you and Sukuna must have made another baby that first night when he came back and brought you the roses.

Thank you so much for the ask! It made me feel so many things, so I had to get these feelings out and write this little story 😭 I hope you enjoyed it and that it made you emotional, too. How could there ever be anyone else after Sukuna? It's really not possible 😭

Thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet 💗

#sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff #sukuna smut #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk fluff #jjk smut #tw pregnancy

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honeyhotteoks · 1 month ago

Text

across stardust - one (j.yh)

summary: you and yunho have worked together for years, idol and makeup artist, but until today you've never touched him skin to skin. when the world tilts on its head from just a brush of his cheek, you realize he's so much more than a crush, he's your soulmate. one | two | three | four

note: please enjoy this truly self indulgent romance. will be four parts total, and i'll post each as soon as they are ready to go. happy comeback week, and i hope everyone enjoys this 💖

tags/warnings: idol!yunho, makeup artist!reader, fem!reader, soulmates au, soulmate identifying marks, soulmate tattoos, tattoed!reader, a lot of fluff and tenderness, love at first touch, shared feelings/emotions/physical sensations, anxiety/stress over what to do, reader's family isn't the best, kq is not the best company for the purposes of this fic!, light smut including - heavy makeouts/grinding, hand kink, size kink, phone sex, sexting, fingering, jacking off, dirty talk, praise, use of good girl, use of pet names like baby/jagiya/sweetheart. basically this fic is an excuse for me to write star-crossed desperate love so i would say it's the literal opposite of a slow burn lmao

pairings: yunho x reader

genre: fantasy, romance, smut || soulmates au

word count: 17.9k

It’s eleven in the morning when your day starts, hiding in the green room of a concert venue in Berlin, and the day feels lost already. With Eunji and Dahan ill that only leaves you and Iseul to handle makeup for all eight members and with how exhausted you are from yet another night of little sleep, you don’t know how you’ll be able to keep up. You’re trying to stay awake, but while the members are all out on stage learning their marks and rehearsing the improvisational moments for this tour stop, the green room is quiet and you keep nodding off.

“Bad night?” Iseul’s voice startles you out of one of your dips into sleep and your body jerks up right.

“Fuck,” You breathe, “hey,”

“Here,” She pushes a bright can into your hands, an energy drink, “you need this.”

“I need to be sedated,” You grumble, taking it from her, “the time difference is never this hard,”

“Mm,” She shrugs, “it’s unpredictable,”

“Yeah,” You sigh, “I guess.”

The thumping music outside as they run through another track is starting to give you a migraine. You take a long sip of the drink and then leave the can on the table in front of you, choosing instead to hide your face in the sleeves of your sweatshirt and let out another long sigh.

“Girl,” Iseul nudges you, “you look like shit. Your station looks like shit.”

“Thank you?”

“In thirty minutes we’re going to be busier than we’ve been since that Inkigayo stage for Answer,” She points out and you grimace at the reference. Back then it really was just a skeleton staff and one of the makeup artists quit on the spot, too stressed to continue the work and walking out in the middle of doing Yeosang’s foundation.

What a mess those old days used to be. Nostalgia sometimes makes you forget how late those nights were and just how impossibly tired you had been. This feels too reminiscent of that for sure.

Iseul taps your shoulder to get you to lift your face as she continues, “I know you’re tired, but I can’t do this shit on my own. I need you.”

“Okay,” You breathe, scrubbing your hands over your face to jolt yourself awake as best you can, “you’re right, I’m sorry,”

“Don’t be sorry,” She gives you a sympathetic smile, “I get it.”

This tiredness feels different though, so deeply ingrained in your body. Something’s been keeping your adrenaline running like a long, drawn out anxiety attack and you can’t understand it. You’ve been on tour before, you’ve been on planes, you’ve had long days, and you’ve worked with this exact group for years. There’s nothing on paper that should be making you so anxious, but the threads of it are humming in the deep back of your brain even now.

“Come on,” Iseul prompts again, pulling you to your feet, “let’s get you in gear.”

“Right,” You take another long sip of your energy drink and pray it starts kicking in soon and that the effects won’t make you feel crazier, “let’s do this.”

She helps you put your station together with ease and then pull yourself together. Within those precious thirty minutes of calm before the storm you’ve downed two cans of pure caffeine, assembled your station and strapped on your brush belt, and tried to make yourself some form of presentable by slicking your hair back into a smooth knot and adding a coat of lip balm.

As always, the boys have used the ladder game to determine hair and makeup order which means those at the bottom of the list have more time to relax fresh-faced on the couches before getting poked and prodded and wrapped up like presents for thousands of screaming fans. With only you and Iseul available it’s about to be a race against the clock to get them ready.

Their managers hustle them from the stage to the back rooms where the rest of the staff waits, and the members gather around you and Iseul and your makeshift makeup stations.

“Alright,” Iseul says as the members quiet down, “we’re down some staff as you know,”

They nod attentively and you trade a close lipped smile with Hongjoong.

“We’re just going to do the best we can as quickly as we can,” She explains, looking down at their names on a slip of paper, “Wooyoung, Yeosang, Jongho, San,” she recites, “you’re with me in that order.”

You run through the names on your slip, “Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Mingi, Yunho, that leaves you with me.”

Iseul nods as you finish your words, “Please be ready to slot in when the person in front of you is finished, and then you can go directly to wardrobe for your soundcheck outfits,”

“We’ve got it,” Hongjoong nods, “and if there’s anything you both need,”

“We’ll be fine,” Iseul assures him, “but it’s definitely going to be cutting it close,”

“We should get started,” You cut in, “if you’re ready?”

Hongjoong jumps to your chair immediately and Wooyoung steps to Iseul’s, and before you know it you’re off.

The room is alight with activity while you both work, only you don’t have a relaxed pace and only two members to perfect. You’re used to working with Wooyoung and Seonghwa, they’ve been your assigned members for as long as you’ve worked with Ateez, but when staff shortages or timing gets tight, it can be a bit of a free for all.

You stay focused and execute each member’s makeup like a well rehearsed dance, and you do your best to ignore the buzzing anxiety in your veins. For a little while, you handle it like a professional.

When Yunho finally settles into your chair, about a single second after Mingi leaves it, the exhaustion careens back into you sideways. It takes you a minute to prep your tools this time, and you’re pretty sure that without the artificial pick me up of the energy drinks you’d be passing out on the spot.

You steady your hands against the vanity in front of you and take a deep breath, and when you look up you catch Yunho’s eyes in the mirror, a tiny crease of concern between his brows.

“You okay?” He checks.

You give him a smile, albeit a tired one, “The jet lag is really hitting this time,” you explain, “but I’m fine,”

He looks sympathetic immediately, “Same for me, I feel like I’m barely sleeping,”

“That’s not good,” You tell him as you prep your stainless steel palette, “you have a long night ahead,”

“I’ll sleep tonight,” He says, “I’m sure,”

“After dancing for three hours I’d hope so,” You smile and pick up your first set of tools before turning towards him.

“Do you have anything you could take?” He asks, studying your face, “A sleep aid?”

“I usually don’t like to,” You admit, “I always feel groggy the next day,”

“And we have another show,” He finishes for you, his lips coming together in a thin line as he thinks.

There’s nothing really for him to do, but it’s kind of him anyway to be so concerned. They always are, this rare group of eight idols who remember staff birthdays, bring coffee on the early morning schedules, and always, always take extra time to clean up after themselves so it’s not left to anyone else.

You take a step closer towards him and glance over his bare face and then it occurs to you, “You know what’s funny?”

“Hmm?” He tilts his face up to you.

“I don’t think I’ve ever done your makeup before,” You smile, it’s a ridiculous thought.

“No way,” He blinks, thinking back, “it’s been… forever, are you sure?”

You nod, “You’re usually with Eunji,” you tell him, “and even when we’ve swapped around, I don’t think so. I think you’re the only member I’ve never done,”

“Wow,” He laughs, eyes bright, “well, I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

“Is there anything,” You start to ask him if there’s anything he prefers, anything special about his makeup that he gets done with Eunji that he asks for, but Iseul catches you idle as she pats foundation onto San’s forehead and answers for you.

“His skin gets dry,” She jumps in, “don’t use too much powder,”

Yunho grins, a laugh on his lips at the directness of her words.

“And don’t use that oil,” Iseul adds, “that primer oil you like, he’ll break out by tomorrow,”

“Thank you, Iseul,” Yunho says, and you watch San’s face as he stifles a chuckle.

“Noted,” You smile, and you swap out two of the products in your hands before taking up your position by his side again.

You’ve gotten used to working with idols, to working with Ateez and with Yunho specifically, and yet when you get this close a little flutter of nerves rocks through your belly. He’s handsome, and if you’re being honest he’s just your type. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, or this weird feeling in your chest that you’ve been dealing with all week, but for the first time in a long time you think about what it would be like to kiss his lips.

“How do you want me?” He asks, breaking your thoughts, and you have to shake off the impending blush at the way his words make you feel. You have work to do, and you had gotten over your silly little crush on him years ago, you need to get a grip.

You recover fairly smoothly though with a quick smile, “Right,” he’s never worked with you before, and he’s looking to you for direction, “head back a bit, please, and eyes closed,”

“Alright,” He follows your instructions to the letter.

“Okay,” You tell him, “primer first. Let me know if anything bothers you,”

“Mhm,” He hums and stays relaxed.

He has the loveliest eyelashes, that’s the thought that echoes through your brain as you start working on him, and you wish it never occurred to you at all because you keep glancing up at his closed eyes. He lets you work, he knows you’re exhausted so he doesn’t push you for conversation, and you’re strangely grateful. You know he’s chatty sometimes in the chair, an extrovert through and through and always keeping Eunji company or talking with the member beside him, but right now he keeps still and gives you respite on a hard day.

You’re patting foundation into his skin with a large paddle brush when Iseul interrupts your thoughts, “Do you have that eggplant liner?”

“Check my table,” You offer, but with how sluggish your brain is feeling there’s no way you remember a single thing on your station without looking.

“Mm,” She pivots around and pokes through the products and tools behind you, and you glance over as San opens his eyes to watch Iseul rifle through things.

“Damn,” She mutters, “how much time do we have?”

“Um,” You glance down at your watch, “twenty?”

“Perfect,” She scoots behind you and disappears into the hall, no doubt to find your traveling makeup case and the liner.

You sigh, chewing the inside of your lip at the idea that you only have twenty more minutes, but you really don’t want to rush and have his makeup melt off on-stage.

“You’re fine,” San assures, his body angled towards you and Yunho now while he waits, “don’t worry about the clock,”

Yunho hums his agreement from below you, “Plenty of time,”

You refocus on Yunho’s skin and notice a long black and white hair from the paddle brush affixed to his cheek, mixed in with the foundation. You take the brush again, wiping off any excess foundation and checking to see if more fibers are loose, and then you work the brush against his cheek in an attempt to free the loose hair but it isn’t coming off easily. Every attempt you make just slides the hair into a different spot on his cheek and covers it with more foundation.

“Um,” You usually don’t like to do this, but you might have to, “can I just…”

His eyes open but his expression stays smooth, “Can you?”

“Sorry,” You shake your head, “do you mind if I touch you?”

“You already are,” He smiles, a small, amused crease between his brows you’ll have to pat out momentarily.

You tuck your brush away and gesture with your hand, “You just have a hair,”

“Oh,” He laughs, “of course, yeah,”

You’re just supposed to touch his cheek, brush away the hair with the pad of your finger and then get back to work, that’s all it is, so you’re completely unprepared for the feeling that rockets through your chest when your skin finally touches his.

Yunho gasps softly as your fingers brush over his cheek, his eyes blowing wide and his expression blanking, and it’s the only indication you have that he feels something too. A tightness wrenches in your chest, like someone pressed something hot and hard directly into your breastbone and your stomach does a somersault. Your ears are ringing, and you’re pretty sure your heart is about to beat out of your chest now that it’s started up again.

The tattoo on your chest feels warm beneath your blouse.

“You,” Yunho manages, his voice shaky and you know for sure he felt it too.

You rock back a step, “I don’t understand,”

“Shit,” Someone else says, and then you realize that it’s San and you’re not alone with the only other person in the entire world, you’re in the middle of work in front of at least one other person and it’s only your existence that just got tilted on its axis. Yours and maybe Yunho’s.

“Oh,” You glance to the side, taking in San’s wide eyed expression, “oh my God,”

“I’m not insane, am I?” Yunho smiles, his focus entirely on you, and you think you might just pass out, “You felt that?”

There’s a noise in the hall and San scrambles up to his feet, “Iseul,” he says heading for the door, “do you need help looking?”

He’s covering for you both, but thoughts are slow to form and all you can manage is blinking at the man in your chair.

“You did, right?” He asks again, eyes soft and hopeful, and then his fingers brush over the center of his chest. Squarely over his breastbone.

He’s yours.

You want to reach out and yank up his shirt, check the tattoo over his heart to see if it’s the same looping knot shape as yours, but you don’t need to see it to know for sure. It’s him.

San says something about forgetting the liner altogether, a little louder so you both know the room is going to get crowded again, and you shake your head to jolt yourself out of your paralyzed position.

“You didn’t?” His hand falls.

“I did,” You rush to correct, “I’m, I don’t know,”

He nods, wetting his lips and shifting in his chair. He moves to reach for you, but reason and sense click back into place immediately and you realize that no matter what your tattoo feels like and no matter what this means, you’re at work and about to have a very private moment in a very public place if you’re not careful.

You shake your head with a glance at his hand and jerk your head towards the door, “Later,”

“Right,” He leans back from you, “of course, right,”

Footsteps to your right draw your attention and Iseul is huffing, checking her own watch, “We’ll do brown,”

“That’ll be fine,” San assures her, but his eyes are glued on the pair of you.

Iseul moves to step around you again and realizes you’re just standing there, “What’s with you?”

“Sorry,” You manage, blinking hard and refocusing, “I just got dizzy,”

It’s not entirely a lie, given that you felt the entire earth shift under your feet thirty seconds ago and your life is completely changed. Dizzy is the least of how you’re feeling.

Yunho’s expression shifts immediately, concern across his face, and he curls his fingers into his palms to keep himself from reaching out again, from being too familiar.

“Oh,” Her eyebrows raise high, “do you need me to finish Yunho?”

“N-no,” You take a breath, “just give me one second,”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Yunho asks, and in the back of your brain you wonder if his voice has always sounded this good.

“Here,” San cuts in smoothly, cracking the seal on a fresh water bottle and passing it over to you, “do you need to sit a minute?”

San’s hand rests on your upper back between your shoulders as you take a long sip of water, the cold shocking your brain back to reality in exactly the way you need.

“Thank you,” You tell him honestly, “I think I’m okay, just a headrush,”

San nods, and when you refocus your eyes on Yunho, you almost laugh. His gaze is squarely on San’s hand where it sits on your back, and you watch the fast, silent exchange between the two men when San drops his hand and Yunho realizes his own reaction. He blushes, ears running red and he dips his head to avoid both your eyes.

“Iseul,” San steps around you both and distracts your friend, “ready to wrap?”

“Yeah,” She agrees, “let’s finish up. You’re sure you’re okay, y/n?”

“Mhm,” You hardly trust your own voice, but you nod anyway, “I’m good now.”

Yunho tilts his face back up as you step close, and the tension between you is so palpable and so familiar that you can hardly breathe. Your tattoo feels warm and heavy and something tells you that his does too, you can see it in the tenderness of his brown eyes.

“Dizzy?” He asks quietly, keeping his words just for you.

You shake your head, “No,”

“That’s good,” He murmurs, but he lets whatever words he wants to say rest on his tongue.

Your tattoo throbs and you don’t dare touch his bare skin again.

His makeup takes fifteen more minutes and his eyes don’t stray from your face the entire time. You barely finish on time, and wardrobe is standing by to get them into their first outfits of the night, so when you put the final touches on he’s already being pulled out of the chair before you have a chance to say anything.

You want to corner him and ask him exactly when he’ll have time to talk later, but despite working together for the last few years, you and Yunho aren’t that close. You’re friendly, but you’re not familiar enough to casually ask what he’s doing later and not have it seem strange. While friendships between staff members and idols are not discouraged, even between the opposite sex, being overly familiar or suggestive would certainly leave a question in everyone’s minds, and you don’t want to draw attention to yourself that quickly.

This is between you and Yunho, no one else. You don’t want an audience for this.

So he goes, pulled away by wardrobe and his other members, fitted quickly into his Soundcheck outfit. He has his game face on, so do all the members, and you watch him disappear down the hall without a second glance back at you.

You collapse into the couch and press your eyes closed, focusing on the singular feeling of heat and soreness from your chest.

A soulmate.

The tattoo on your chest was one you barely looked at anymore, too focused on living your life to sit in the mirror and wonder about the person who would be your other half, the person that would slot into the gaps in your spirit with a simple brush of skin on skin. But now, it aches. It pulses to remind you that it’s real and that you’ve found him.

Everything in your life is about to change. Has already changed.

On the couch you don’t sleep as much as you disassociate, still stunned, your buzzing brain filtering out everything Iseul says as she cleans up around you and preps both of your brush belts for touch ups. There’s such a small amount of time between Soundcheck and the concert that you barely get to process, you just exist, playing the moment you touched him over again and again in your mind. Despite how utterly changed you feel, the world is just continuing on around you like a regular day.

Once again, you and Yunho miss each other for every brief moment between Soundcheck and stage.

The shift happens in the wings, in the underbelly of the stage where you and the other staff members for hair, makeup, and wardrobe wait for any last minute quick fixes. The eight of them are almost ready, pumping themselves up between rows of technical equipment and stage scaffolding.

There’s so much commotion around you and yet your eyes are drawn to him like a magnet, the feelings you once had for him coming back to you full force in a blurry torrent.

He shifts, stretches, swallows hard, and then looks up directly into your eyes. There’s a question in them that you can’t read, but you manage to smile.

His shoulders relax just a little.

You raise your fist, giving him the gesture for ‘fighting’ and he returns it with a wide grin.

“Alright,” Hongjoong’s voice cuts through, the final step of their pre-show ritual as the concert hall starts to roar, “huddle up.”

The eight of them circle up with each other, one leg in and one out.

“We’ve practiced hard,” Hongjoong starts, patting his members on the back, “let that practice pay off, and have fun out there,”

“Okay!” San hypes them up, getting the tension high.

“Let’s give it our all,” Hongjoong continues, a wide smile on his face, “fighting!”

They echo it back, and a tense feeling starts to roll in your gut.

“Alright, one,” Hongjoong starts the count and you feel the tension in your own body rising, enough to make you take a soft step back from the group, “two,”

On three they chorus it, moving their feet in a synchronized step, “Eight makes one team! Fighting!”

They break apart, clapping each other on the back, and your eyes meet Yunho’s for one more fast second before he’s jogging after the rest of the members and finding his mark on the stage risers.

You feel the sensation of his eyes on you even after he’s gone. You have the length of four songs and their opening ments before members start swapping out on stage for makeup touch-ups and technical adjustments. The sound of the audience is intense, the start of the first song keying up, and you stumble back from your post to get a breath of air away from it all.

There’s a bathroom along the hallway two doors down from the green room that’s meant for staff and you blissfully find it empty. With shaking hands you flip the lock and sink down into a crouch, your back braced against the wall as you breathe through the sudden wave of feelings filling your chest.

Adrenaline, that’s what the bitter taste on your tongue is.

Your heart is thumping, double time like you’re running a marathon, and then you realize it. You can feel him, even now with the bond between you unfulfilled you can feel his emotions coming to you like a wave. Adrenaline, anxiety, euphoria, exhaustion, it all roils through you and you brace your hands on the wall to get your composure back.

They say the first time you feel your soulmate link it takes you by surprise, but this is an intensity you couldn’t have imagined. It’s all encompassing and honestly terrifying, and you’re struggling to understand which parts of you are you and which are him. You can’t conceive of how an accepted bond would make this feeling stronger when it already feels like your emotions and his are knit together so tightly.

Anxiety strikes down the link and you realize it’s not stage fright, it’s for you. He can feel your panic and your fear just like you can feel every ounce of his performance and if you don’t get yourself in check you’re going to be distracting him even more than you already are.

You yank yourself up off the floor and collapse against the sink, turning on the cold water tap and taking slow and steadying breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Counting slowly, relaxing your body with every pulse of oxygen through your system. You hope he can feel it, but you have no idea how this all really works. You’ll have to call your sister when this is all said and done, find out what she felt when she met her wife, but right now in this bathroom in Berlin you have to do this by yourself.

You hear the pulse of another song thrumming through the stadium as they keep performing, and you feel the thundering beat of his heart in your chest, but you breathe into it this time and try to keep yourself calm for his sake. You splash cold water on your face, keep breathing low and slow, and eventually you pull yourself back up to standing tall to look at yourself in the mirror.

You look the same as you did a few hours ago, before him, but the warmth in your chest is still present and you wonder if that will ever go away or if that’s just a permanent part of the link.

With shaky hands you unbutton your blouse and pull your bralette down in the center to reveal what you already know is there. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight.

The tattoo nestled at the base of your sternum is the only one you were born with. Every other line of ink on your body was put there with intention, but this one you’ve had for as long as you can remember. The maedeup knot is small, but intricate, and until this moment it had always been colorless. Loops of black and gray twining together to make a rounded diamond, unbroken with no beginning or end to the threads.

Now the ink has changed, a deep red against your skin that makes the knotted josephin soulmark look even more traditional, but the skin is slightly inflamed, tender to the touch as you brush your fingertips along it. It feels like a fresh mark, not something you’ve had since birth, but considering how it’s changed, maybe it is new. A soulmark shifting color is common, you know that, but it still stands out so starkly against your skin and your other black tattoos. You can’t look away from it.

A pounding on the bathroom door makes you jump and you fix your shirt, covering the mark back up and buttoning it away. You wonder if Yunho’s mark is the exact same like other couples you know and if it too turned red, if it’s warm to the touch, if he felt you brush against your mark through the link.

“y/n?” A voice comes through the door and you shut off the tap.

“Coming!” You wipe the excess water on your hands onto your jeans and take one last, fast look to make sure your mark isn’t visible, before opening the bathroom door.

Wonshik, one of their many managers, is waiting for you on the other side. His eyes narrow when he sees you, “Are you ill?”

“No,” You assure him.

“You’re sure?” He presses, “We can’t afford to lose any more staff or risk getting the members sick if you are,”

“I know, Wonshik,” You nod, “I promise I’m just tired, jet-lagged. I was putting cold water on my face, that’s all. I’m not sick,”

He exhales in relief, his expression softening, “Thank God,” he says, “I can only take so many surprises.”

A little sickness is nothing compared to a staff member and an idol under a dating ban being soulmarked, but you hold your tongue.

“They’re about to come off,” He says, “Iseul was looking for you, she seems like she might start climbing the walls if you don’t get back to help her,”

“No, of course,” You start back towards the side stage entrance, “I lost track of time, but it won’t happen again,”

“Make sure you sleep tonight,” He adds, following you closely, “no sleep means no immune system, and no immune system means sick.”

“Don’t worry,” You promise, winding your way through the dark backstage, “you won’t lose me,”

“I better not,” He sighs, and then Iseul comes into sight.

“There you are!” She hisses low under her breath, “I was about to have a panic attack,”

“I’m sorry, I’m here, I’m good,” In the commotion, your brain starts to ease into normalcy. You’re used to this pace, the speed of lightning fast makeup touch-ups and assisting wardrobe when things start to go awry with their quick changes. The audience feels none of this, they just see smooth change-outs on stage and cool idols in new clothes, but backstage is a wild flurry and it always puts you on an entirely different plane of focus.

“Here we go,” A stage director starts, gathering everyone’s attention, “four minutes… starting…”

The stage goes dark and in the venue a video starts to play to the crowd to fill the space between costume changes. You prep your hands, making sure your kit is ready to go and you see the wardrobe specialists out of the corner of your eye readying themselves to help facilitate the quick change.

Suddenly they’re here, and the stage director interrupts once more, “Now, four minutes people, let’s go.”

“Mingi,” He gets to you first and he crouches down to drop his face to your height, “stay still one second,”

He says nothing, but he nods as you pat powder across his forehead and the bridge of his nose, checking him over for any other defects. He looks good and you nod, “Go, go,”

Mingi peels off to the left of you and you hear the sound of fabric swishing as he and Wooyoung rip off the top layer of their outfits behind the privacy screens and trade garments with the wardrobe team. It’s a fast shuffle, but you stay focused on who’s in front of you.

“Seonghwa,” You wave to him, pulling blotting tissues out of the pack on your belt, “here,”

He knows this drill well, you’re used to working with him and you have a clean routine down. He blots the sweat off his brow himself and starts to unbutton his jacket while you shift focus to Yunho.

For a split second you almost forget what happened earlier in the buzz of backstage, but the minute your eyes hold on his awareness floods you.

“Hey,” You say, but there’s a time clock shout behind you and you beckon him down, “come here, let me fix things,”

He drops down to your height just like Mingi did and stays steady while you work, but his eyes flick up, “You’re okay?”

“I’m good,” You nod, “don’t worry,”

His expression clears a little and you guess you have your answer about the feeling of the link going both ways.

Hongjoong clears his throat behind you both, “We’re short on time,”

“Am I good?” Yunho checks.

Your eyes flick over him fast, “Yep,”

He’s out of your eyeline a split second later, and you’re grateful for the distraction of both Hongjoong and Seonghwa, otherwise you’re sure you’d dwell a little bit too long on the fact that Yunho’s half naked next to you, privacy screen or no.

“One minute,” The stage director announces, “everyone’s doing great,”

The boys are almost done, flying through the last of their zips and getting their hair smoothed down by that team as they finish. You put the last pat of powder on Seonghwa’s nose and give him a nod before he’s gone too, dropping his jacket as he goes and giving you all a quick flash of his bare back.

You turn back towards the group as they prepare and your eyes zero in on Yunho again. His expression is serious, it’s his game face before he gets back out on stage, and you watch as he corrects the placement of his in-ears and ensures that his mic pack is secured. He runs through his pre-stage ritual and you can’t help but be a captive audience.

“Good work,” The stage director says as Seonghwa rejoins the eight, fully dressed and ready for stage, “fifteen seconds for act two,”

The crowd heats up again as the video starts to fade, and the members do their final checks. Yunho doesn’t look back at you once, his eyes forward and focused as he and the other members find their places on the rising platform that will take them back out to the main stage.

You can see him a little though, in the low light in his white trousers and blue satin shirt. He lifts his hand, adjusting his microphone once again, and then as he drops it back to his side he lets his fingers skim over the familiar hollow of his chest.

Your mark warms, you feel it as if it were your chest he brushed his fingers over, and your breath stops.

The platform rises, the crowd roars, and your heart starts beating to a new rhythm.

He really is yours.

It turns out that later means much later.

You manage to get out of dinner with some of the other staff members, but that just leaves you anxious and alone in a hotel room trying and failing to eat room service. Iseul would be back soon to take up her place in the other bed, and you’re starting to realize that you don’t have Yunho’s number.

Now that emotions are a little smoother, you can’t feel him. Or maybe you can, but it’s so faint that you’re not sure. All you know is that he’s definitely in the hotel, but that’s partially the solid feeling of your link with him and partially the YouTube live being broadcast from Seonghwa’s room where all of the members are.

You put the live on and watch, feeling strangely disconnected from the men on screen. You’ve known them for years, but suddenly with this new truth everything feels foreign and confusing.

You should call your sister, but it’s only six in the morning in Korea and even though this is an emergency of life altering and epic proportions, you can’t bring yourself to wake her on a Saturday.

You try your best to eat the pasta you ordered and watch as the live eventually ends. Your phone dings and for a split second you think it will be him, but it’s just Iseul telling you she’s heading back to the hotel.

A soft knock at the door makes your stomach lurch.

You’re frozen.

There’s another knock, a little firmer this time but then you feel the warm touch against your mark and you’re on your feet, your hand on the door handle before you can think.

He looks tired, that’s your first thought. His face is bare again, and his eyes are rimmed in a little bit of red like he just removed the day’s stage makeup. Despite all that, he smiles when he sees you and sighs, leaning against the door frame, “You’re awake,” he says.

“I waited,” You manage.

He grimaces, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” his eyes flick behind you into the room and he swallows, “are you alone?”

“Yes,” You nod, “but not for long, Iseul’s on her way,”

He nods, “Come to my room?”

“Are you sure?” Your eyes widen.

“We need to talk,” He nods, “can you get away for a little while?”

Iseul will probably expect you to be asleep, but you can’t let this go until morning. If you’re ever going to sleep you need to talk to him now.

“I’ll think of something,” You tell him, “what room?”

“2606,” He answers, reaching into his pockets and producing an envelope from the front desk, “take this,”

He passes you one of his room keys and you nod, “I’ll be up in five minutes, but you should go,”

“Okay,” He breathes and neither one of you makes a single move to step away from the door until a sound down the hallway pushes you into it.

“2606,” You repeat and he nods, swiftly moving down the hall before anyone can see him standing at your door.

You have no idea what you’re going to tell Iseul that would make sense, but you don’t care. You stack up your room service for collection, kick on a pair of slippers, and give yourself the fastest look in the mirror ever on your way out the door. You want to be gone before she gets back, the idea of facing her and lying ten times more difficult than an empty text.

No problem - I can’t sleep, I’m just going to walk a bit. Don’t wait up.

You don’t stick around to see if she’ll believe it.

You try to seem casual when walking to Yunho’s room, like it's yours. You don’t want anyone to give you a second glance and wonder where you’re going, so you keep your head up, smile at anyone you pass, and when his door comes into view you scan the card like it’s any other day.

When the heavy door shuts behind you, you sigh.

“God, finally,” His voice startles you, and you look up to see him pacing, “I’ve been going insane all day,”

Your shoulders drop, you aren’t alone, “Me too,”

He runs a hand through his black hair and finally stops pacing, but doesn’t come any closer, “So, this is real?”

“It feels pretty real,”

“How did we never feel it?” He manages, “I’ve known you for years,”

“We’ve never touched until today,” You tell him, and that has to be the reason, it’s the only thing that makes sense. You’ve been turning it over in your mind all night, and with the exception of bumping into him last week in the hall, it’s all been polite bows and waves.

“How is that even possible,” He breathes, “team dinners? Holiday parties? Work?”

“Skin to skin,” You murmur, “I think that’s what it was,”

“I had no idea,” He swallows, gesturing in the negative space between your bodies, “I always liked you, but I thought it was just, you know, a crush,”

“You what?” Your eyebrows raise.

“Well,” He backtracks, “not like that, it’s not like I’ve been holding a candle.”

Your face stays neutral, but he grimaces at his own words.

“I’m fucking this up,” He takes a deep breath, “I’m sorry, I’m really nervous.”

Your stomach warms, “Yunho, it’s okay, honestly,”

“I just meant I’ve always liked you, I thought about asking you out when our contracts loosened up if you were still single.” He clarifies and then you watch his face blanch, “You are single, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” You nod, “we don’t have to worry about that,”

He nods and you see him searching for the next thing to say, the right thing.

“Your mark,” You cut in, taking a few steps further into the room, “did it change?”

“Completely,” He nods, “did yours?”

“Yeah,” You wonder the right way to ask him if you can see.

“Does it feel,” He starts.

“Warm?”

“Yes,” He nods, “and tender?”

“Like a fresh tattoo,” You take another step in.

“I’ve never gotten a tattoo,” He confesses, “but I’ll take your word for it,”

“Can I,” The words are stuck on your tongue, “maybe this is weird, but I mean, I guess we’re soulmates,”

“You want to see it?” He surmises.

“Only if you’re comfortable,”

His lips quirk, “I’m comfortable,”

Heat twists in your gut and you wonder if he can feel that too. If he does he doesn’t say it, but you watch as he pulls the black t-shirt off over his head.

You’ve never seen his chest. Any inch of his skin except for his neck and arms really, and you guess that was part of keeping his soulmark covered. Idols always do, even when they’re in the most inconvenient locations, there’s always makeup or flesh colored tape or editing to take care of it. The idea that someone could replicate it and try to fake a connection is far too real for someone famous.

He drops his shirt onto the bed and pink tinges his cheeks as he gestures towards it, “Well,”

Your mouth drops, it’s the exact same, down to the size and the placement and every little loop and you stumble forwards to get a better look, “Yunho,”

“Yeah?”

“Has yours always been red?” You reach out, your fingertips hovering just over it.

He shakes his head, “Not before today,”

“Mine’s the same,” You tell him, your eyes glued to his sternum, “just the same,”

You know every centimeter of this tattoo. You’ve studied it a thousand times in the mirror, tracing over every curve with your eyes, trying to find the place where the cord starts and ends. He sucks in a sharp breath as your fingers brush gently along his mark, and you feel the ghost of the sensation against your own.

“I can’t believe we never knew,” You murmur, sliding your finger along each rounded edge.

“You feel that?” He asks, “Right?”

You’re nodding and moving to tug off your sweater before you can even think it through. He starts to shake his head, to say that you don’t have to, but you’re already tossing the sweater next to his discarded shirt and tugging down the front band of your bralette so he can see the whole mark.

His eyes flick over you fast, but with the matching mark in front of him he doesn’t focus on anything else, “It’s exactly the same,”

“I know,” You reach for his hand, but the minute more of your skin connects with his you feel your chest throb and you drop it like it burns you.

He winces, touching his chest again, “Is it supposed to hurt?”

“In the beginning,” You nod, “I think?”

“Does it always feel like that?”

“I’m not sure,” You admit, “I was going to call my sister and ask, but it’s too early at home,”

He smiles, “Your sister found her soulmate?”

“In highschool,” You smile back, “they’ve been bonded together since they were eighteen,”

“Older or younger?” He asks, and you realize just how little you know about each other despite how long you’ve worked alongside him.

“Younger,” You say.

“I have a little brother,” He replies, “but he’s still in school,”

You nod, painfully aware that this is such a strange conversation to have with your shirts off just standing in the middle of a hotel room, but somehow it’s easier than any date you’ve ever had.

Your eyes flick from his eyes to his mark and he reaches out a hand again, “Can I?”

Your heart quickens and you nod.

His fingertips graze over the edge of your mark, mimicking your touch from before, sliding along the edges of the tattoo. His eyes widen and you know he’s feeling the sensation in his own mark, a mirror image of each other.

“This doesn’t hurt,” He observes, letting his fingers linger.

“I think we have to get used to each other,” You remember that fact from somewhere, “the link has been dormant for a long time, I think it takes a minute to get used to having it,”

“Makes sense,” He murmurs, his eyes still squarely on your mark, “I’ll be honest though, I still really want to touch you,”

“Yeah?” Your voice is thready.

His fingers fall away and he nods, “Don’t you?”

“Yes,” You agree, painfully quickly.

He swallows tightly and takes the smallest step forwards, before offering out his hand, palm up and waiting for you.

Your eyes flick from his face down to his outstretched hand, and you reach for him slowly. You let your fingertips skate over the skin of his palm, down each digit, ghost the pads of your fingertips together. It’s warm, sharp and dizzying even just to brush against each other.

You wonder what more will feel like.

“Can I try something?” He murmurs, his voice nearly a whisper even though you’re all alone.

You nod.

He wets his lips unconsciously and moves a little closer, your bodies now only inches apart. Anxiety, anticipation, thrill, it all runs through your gut like a whirling wind and you shiver at the torrent of his emotions, a grin breaking out over your face.

His smile mirrors yours, “Your heart’s beating a mile a minute,”

“You can feel that?”

“Yeah,” He breathes, grin widening, “this is crazy,”

You laugh, a little nervous, a little elated, and he finally reaches out his hands.

He takes a steadying breath, and then his fingertips brush along your jaw.

You suck in a sharp gasp at the sensation, electric and hot, the feeling rocketing through your entire body. You tilt your face up to his as he continues his gentle touches, your eyes watching him as he studies you. His plush lips are parted, brown eyes wide with awe as he grows a little bolder to brush over your cheeks, down your throat, and back up to your jawline.

“Feel alright?” He murmurs.

You nod into his touch and he starts to lift off but you reach for him, “Don’t stop,”

Your hands land safely on his hips, still covered by his sweatpants and you watch him swallow again at the sudden contact, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. Warmth fills the bond, no doubt the first threads of his arousal, and you wonder if he can feel your own. If he can sense how much he’s affecting you with just his fingertips on your face.

His hands settle back on your skin, this time smoothing across you with his palms, one hand cupping your cheek and the other sliding over your shoulder and down your bare back.

You can barely breathe, the room so silent and around you, like the only thing in the universe that exists is the two of you orbiting each other, standing at the precipice of something so catastrophic and wonderful.

Your hands adjust, resting on his taut abdomen as you move a little closer together, and his eyes flutter shut as he breathes through the sensation of your hands on him properly for the first time.

“You’re so warm,” You murmur, your hands softly tracing his abdominal muscles, instinct guiding you to touch more of him, seek out every inch of him as you unconsciously make a map of his body in your mind.

He hums pleasantly, eyes reopening, “So are you,”

He feels so right, so essential under your touch.

Yunho wets his lips softly with his tongue, and a nervous thrill passes through your belly. His eyes flick over you, the pad of his thumb sweeping a line over your lips. You suppress a needy sound, still trying to keep your head amidst the thrumming emotions and steady thumps of your heart.

He doesn’t stop, just stroking your skin slowly, fingers on your back pressing just a little as he sighs.

“Yunho,” You shiver.

“Cold?” He gravitates a little closer.

“N-no,” Your body is all but pressed flush against him now, and you have to lean your face up even more just to see him as he stands tall over you.��

“I…” He starts to say something but lets the words die off, like he’s thinking something through, but then he sighs, “forget it,”

His lips are on yours.

Yunho lifts you, wrapping his arms around your back and tugging you up into his embrace. You gasp against his mouth, finding his shoulders to hold onto as one of his arms bands around your lower back.

The kiss is shattering, the world tilting once again, a new frequency humming between your two bodies. It’s hot, your skin buzzing from the contact, but the way you move together is fluid and easy. Your legs part naturally, settling around his hips and his free hand finds your plush thigh as he tugs you into place, slotting your bodies together like they were always meant to be.

“I’m sorry,” He mumbles against your lips when he draws in a quick breath, but he doesn’t stop kissing you. His nose nuzzles against yours, and his lips part at the same moment yours do, tongues meeting in the space between your mouths to flick against each other.

“Don’t,” You push closer to him, fingers knotting into the back of his hair as you kiss him back.

He hums, the hand on your thigh sliding up to cup your ass and you shiver as his wide hand stretches across your backside, squeezing your pillowy flesh.

A tiny whimper does leave you then, liquid heat spreading through your body, the combined sensation of both your arousals giving you a headrush.

“So beautiful,” He sighs between kisses, “you’re so beautiful,”

“Yunho,” Your voice is thready, his name a stretched out sound.

He holds you close, nearly stumbling as he moves. You blink your eyes open just as he spins you both, pushing you up against the hotel wall and pinning you in place with the weight of his body. You should slow things down, but nothing in your life has ever felt this good and you find yourself diving back to meet his kiss again.

His arm slides out from behind your back as he pushes closer, your body fully supported by the flat of the wall behind you and his hips under yours and one hand firmly anchored on your ass. With his arm free he cups your cheek, a pleased sound on his lips as he dips you back into the wall and deepens the kiss.

Heat blooms through you, your kisses getting needier, artless and desperate just to get a little closer together. The kind of kissing that sounds as messy as it is, tiny pants and moans muffled between you, skin on skin, tongue on tongue.

“God,” He shudders, his lips breaking away, but his eyes only flick over you for a second before he dives back in. This time his lips travel, hot kisses across your jaw and back to the hollow of your ear, down your throat as he holds you a little higher on the wall for the right access.

You grip his shoulders with one hand and lock your fingers in his mess of black hair with the other, your head falling back against the wall. He pants against your throat, a soft groan as he kisses, and your stomach tightens pleasantly.

“Y-Yunho,” You gasp, arousal rolling through you, and unconsciously you rock your hips, desperately seeking some kind of friction.

He hums low in his throat, kissing back up your neck fast to get to your lips again and his hand slides off your cheek as he crowds you tighter, bracing himself against the wall above your head. His abdomen presses against your core, and even through layers of fabric you feel his heat. Hungrily, you roll your hips again and catch a little pressure, moaning in earnest against his mouth.

Yunho makes a tight sound and then he breaks the kiss, his forehead pressing hard against yours as he takes in slow breaths, his body all but trembling with need as he holds you.

“We need to slow down,” He manages.

You can’t find words, not yet, but you nod against him.

“You deserve better,” He says, “dates, presents,”

You laugh softly, your hand in his hair softening from a grip to a gentle hold, carding through the long locks at the base of his neck, “I don’t need all that,”

He smiles wide, brushing off your words, “Still,” He sighs, still recovering from the heated make out, “I think I have more self control than fulfilling our bond by fucking you into the wall,”

Reality bleeds back in at that. Soulmarks were just that, indicator marks. A way to find your person amidst a sea of thousands, if not millions. All the shared sensation and emotion a precursor to something more permanent and binding, something only sealed together by sex.

You lift your head up, and he leans back to mirror you.

“I lost my head there,” You admit, warm blush in your cheeks, “I didn’t know it would feel like this,”

He smiles, and you take in his expression. His hair is a mess, mussed and disheveled and his face is pink from his nose down to the dark, well-kissed curve of his lips. His bare chest is flushed bright pink and his eyes are bright and warm. You fight the urge to kiss him again.

“Me either,” He shakes his head, “it’s incredible,”

“Overwhelming,” You nod, exhaling softly.

He makes a soft sound to agree and then starts to push back from the wall gingerly, letting you slowly unwrap your legs from his waist and ease down to the floor.

He lets you go when you’re steady on your feet and clears his throat, adjusting the waistband of his sweatpants and running a hand through his tangled locks. He’s hard, that much is obvious from the distinct outline of his cock through the gray fabric, but you do your best to look away and not think about how thick and heavy it looked just from kissing you.

“Jesus,” He adjusts his sweats again, “sorry,”

“It’s fine,” You cup your own cheeks with cool fingers, “I promise you’re not the only one,”

His eyes hold yours for a lengthy beat and then he swallows, taking a wide step back and nodding, “Right,” he shakes his head, “we’re supposed to be slowing down.”

“Slow,” You lean against the wall behind you, crossing your arms over your chest and trying to steady your thumping heart.

“I’m going over here,” He grins and walks to the far wall by the door to the bathroom, leaning back and crossing his own arms, “we really should talk,”

A pulse of anxiety flickers through you, and you realize just how quickly you went from his hotel room door to nearly falling into bed. He’s handsome, a kind man, your once upon a time crush, and certainly fated to be a good match for you, but that doesn’t mean you should throw out good sense and rush things. No matter how much your impulses were screaming at you to do just that.

You try to ignore the fact that there’s a bed between you, and you nod, “You’re right,” you finally say, “we barely know each other,”

Yunho’s smile fades just a bit, “I wouldn’t say that,”

“We’re coworkers,” The words tumble out, “I know what we’re both feeling, but,”

His brow furrows as he thinks through your words and he shakes his head, “y/n,” he cuts you off, “do you believe in soulmates?”

“Yes, of course,” Even if you hadn’t before, the way you’re feeling now would be enough to dispel any skeptic.

He takes in a quick breath, the sound sharp as he draws it through his teeth and he cocks his head slightly to the side, “You’re scared,” he massages the top of his sternum with his fingers, and you recognize your own chest is tight with anxiety, “I can feel it, talk to me.”

The instant vulnerability of the bond is startling, and you can feel your own expression crumble. It’s suddenly a bit like being an ant caught under a magnifying glass, too much sharp attention all at once and you swallow tightly, eyes flicking away from his tender gaze.

“y/n,” He murmurs, “I’m not pushing for more, not tonight,”

“Yeah,” Your voice is soft, too quiet for your own liking. Something about the way he sees you so clearly and so quickly makes you feel exposed, nervous and strangely childlike.

“Hey,” He breaks through your little thought spiral, “look at me,”

You straighten up again, finding his eyes.

“I’m just happy I found you,” He tells you, and you feel the truth of it in your gut, “we can figure everything else out together, and at our own pace, okay?”

Relief spreads through you, the knot in your chest loosening, “Promise?”

“Promise,” He nods, raising one hand with his pinky extended, “I just want us to try,”

You nod, extending your own pinky to seal it, “Me too.”

He smiles at that, “Barely know each other,” he scolds softly, “I’m offended.”

“Oh yeah?” Tension bleeds out of your shoulders.

“Mhm,” His expression is full of cheek, “I’m the one with a crush, remember? I notice things,”

Your stomach flips pleasantly and your arms relax from their tight position crossed over your chest, “What things?”

“Let’s see,” He starts, and for a brief moment you think maybe he’s bluffing, but the moment he starts you melt and he holds your gaze as he warmly recites all the little things he’s noticed about you over the years.

“You only wear silver jewelry,” he notes first, nodding towards you.

Your tight hands uncurl.

“You have a ridiculous sweet tooth,” The more he talks the more he relaxes against the far wall, “and you start getting flushed after the second shot of soju, you really are a lightweight,”

“You always pick a Big Bang song for karaoke, and you’re late to work every Monday,” He laughs a little at that and keeps going, “you don’t wear a lot of color but when you do it’s red. We’re both from Gwangju but you moved to Seoul when you were five,”

Your heart starts to beat a little faster, warmth filling you again and you don’t know if it’s your affection or his anymore, but it hardly matters.

“Um,” He takes a deep breath and glances away for a moment and then catches more threads from his memory, “you’re a Sagittarius, you’re a runner, and the last book I saw you reading was Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982. I bought it, but I haven’t had a chance to read it just yet,”

“Yunho,” You find yourself smiling, a hand over your surprised lips.

“I’m just saying,” He shrugs a little, “we aren’t strangers. I know this is scary and fast and going to change the rest of our lives,”

Elation, pure joy, spills over unfettered from his side of your new emotional tether.

“But I like you,” He confesses, “I have for a while, and this,” he brushes his fingers along his soulmark, “just changes the timeline.”

He’s yours.

You push off the wall, crossing the room and all but leap back into his embrace, your arms looping around his shoulders again as you push up on tiptoe to kiss his lips.

“This is real,” You murmur.

“Yes,” He cups your cheeks, nodding as he pecks your lips again.

“You’re mine,”

“Yes,” He grins.

“Oh, this is crazy,” You laugh, forehead against his again.

“We’ll go slow,” He assures you again, “we’ll figure it out together,”

“Together,” You nod.

He dips low once more, this kiss more tender, and he separates you both before things can heat up again. “Hmm,” He glances across the bed and makes a small face at the time displayed on the digital clock, “did you eat?”

“I tried to,” You confess, “I was nervous,”

“You need to eat,” He snaps up his black shirt from the bed and slips it back on, and your chest warms. It’s strangely domestic, strangely commonplace like you’ve been in this position a thousand times before.

Yunho adjusts his shirt and then kisses your hair as he passes by you, padding over to the hotel microwave and searching through the assorted snacks and instant meals, “It’s too late for room service,”

“I’m okay,” You pull your own sweater back on and sit on the edge of his bed.

“y/n,” He glances back, a softly scolding tone.

“Really, you need to sleep,” You offer.

He dismisses that thought, “But I’m hungry, eat with me?”

You concede, and while he starts whipping up two servings of ramen, you wonder if this is what he’s going to be like. It makes sense, he’s always been a caretaking kind of person, but having it so tenderly directed at you feels right.

“When we get home,” He says as he pours in the spice packets, “I’ll take you somewhere nice,”

“This is nice,” You smile.

“y/n,” He sets the ramen on a side table and sits next to you, “this is cup noodle from a hotel microwave,”

“The company is nice,” You take the ramen happily though, and tuck into the warm meal.

“It is,”

“Mm, you know,” You slurp back some noodles and softly clear your throat, “you weren’t the only one with a crush,”

He freezes, letting his noodles drop back into his cup, “What?”

“I’ve always liked you,” Your own confession feels easier after his, “I put it aside since we work together, but I guess, I mean, what I’m trying to say is that we both felt it before the mark, you’re not alone in that.”

“I had no idea,”

“I’m very professional,” You tease him lightly.

He nudges you and tucks back into his noodles, “How long?”

“Hmm,” You get more comfortable, crossing your legs and scooting back a little onto the mattress, “I thought you were cute when we first met,”

“God,” He groans, “we were such kids,”

You nod, swallowing another bite, “Mhm, you had that blonde hair,”

He laughs.

“I remember thinking, ‘that one’s trouble’,” You confess.

“Me?” His eyebrows perk up, “I’m perfectly nice,��

“Trouble as in you’re my type,” You roll your eyes, “but I don’t think the crush properly came until later. You’ve always made me laugh, and when I realized how I was feeling I just did my best to keep some distance,”

He nods, face getting a little serious, “I know what you mean,”

That knowledge leaves you both a little quiet. The late hour, the adrenaline come down, all of it barrels into you at the same moment as the next anxious thought. How in the world were you both going to navigate this with a contract as tight as theirs and the public eye always watching?

“Yunho,” You murmur, the last of your noodles left to go cold as you sit with that thought, “Are we going to be able to figure this out?”

“Figure what out?” He looks genuinely confused by your question, “Us?”

“You’re an idol,” You nod towards him, “I’m staff,”

He rests a hand on your knee, “We’ll be fine,”

“Aren’t your contracts,” You trail off, letting him fill in the blanks.

“They’re strict, yes,” He nods, “year seven,”

Dating, romance, even the perception of it was more than discouraged by companies in this industry, their artists contractually obligated to be single and available and dedicated only to their fans. Five years would have been the industry standard to prevent any idol from being caught out with a partner, let alone a potential soulmarked one, but seven is excessive.

You blanch, “That’s almost two years away,”

“We will find a way,” He says, “we’re not the first people in the industry this has happened to,”

“Really?” You perk up, “Who?”

He falls short, “Well, I don’t know exactly, but it’s bound to have happened.”

“And then ruined their careers,” You groan, flopping back flat on the mattress and covering your face with a hand, “which is why we’ve never heard of them,”

Yunho laughs, earnestly laughs, and takes the half empty ramen cup out of your hand to discard, “Maybe, but for now, let’s just stay positive. Get to know eachother better,”

You nod.

“Nothing can change the fact that we found each other,” He points out, dropping down onto his side on the bed next to you, “and I’m okay with that.”

“So we just lie to everyone?” You chew at the inside of your lip, staring up at the white ceiling.

“Hey,” Yunho’s fingers tuck under your chin and draw your eyes to him, “I know you’re anxious,”

You sigh, letting his softness calm you again.

“I know,” He repeats, “I am too, but we don’t have to decide anything tonight. We’re both tired and it’s been an emotional day,”

“Okay,” You nod, “okay, yes, you’re right,”

His thumb strokes over your cheek again, and you watch him exhale and sink further into your touch, “Will you stay tonight?”

That wakes you up.

Your eyebrows raise, “Stay?”

“Just to sleep,” He assures you, “I just… I don’t want to be without you yet,”

“I need to get back before Iseul wakes up if we do that,” You note with a grimace.

“What time?” He glances back to the clock.

“Seven,” You say, “her alarm is set for seven-thirty,”

“We can do that,” He grabs his phone off the side table and sets an alarm, “we’ll get up,”

The pull between your bodies is so strong you’re fairly sure you would have stayed no matter the consequences, but you nod, “Then I’ll stay,”

He grins and pushes himself off the bed, “I’ve got clothes, if you want to get comfortable,”

“Sure,” you sit up and wait for him to find things in his still packed suitcase.

“Um,” He pulls a pair of black sweatpants from the bag, “these should work, and if you get cold,”

You smile as he grabs a gray hoodie and comes back to you.

As you start to pull off your sweater again, he turns around and leaves his back to you, “Sorry,”

“Thanks,” You chuckle, making short work of changing. You’re swimming in his clothes, but his sweatshirt smells like him and you just want to bury your face into it, “you can turn around now,”

His shoulders relax as he turns back, and you watch his lips part as he takes you in.

“What?”

“You look cute,” He clears his throat, shrugging off his reaction.

You smile and ease back onto the bed, “Oh, I get it,” you laugh, “is your guy brain on fire because I’m wearing your clothes? Is this some kind of… you won the competition, ownership thing?”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, kneeling on the bed to shuffle closer, “No competition when you’re literally fated for me,”

“Right,” You let the word drag out on your tongue to tease him.

“But I like taking care of you already, and now you’re warm and comfortable,” He collapses next to you onto the mattress with a sigh, “and I know I don’t own you, but you are mine, just like I’m yours now. I won’t apologize for liking you in my clothes or in my bed, for liking when you look like my girlfriend,”

Warmth blooms in your cheeks and you duck your face into the sheets.

“Now come get under the covers,” He maneuvers the duvet, “it’s late, you were dead on your feet today,”

His voice is so warm and familiar, and you slide into the covers beside him.

In bed you keep a little distance, and despite the number of times both of you say that you should go to sleep, your conversation is almost impossible to stop. Yunho holds your hand in the middle space of the mattress between your bodies, and in the dim lighting of the hotel room you whisper thought after thought back and forth. A million things coming to mind you need to tell each other so suddenly now that you’ve found each other.

As you talk his fingers travel, restlessly stroking your skin, up and down your arm and tapping out patterns. When his palm slides back and forth over the sharp lines of the tattoos on your upper arm, and you feel the question slipping out of your lips and revealing more about yourself than you intended before you can catch it.

“Your parents,” You blurt out, “will they be happy?” He’s spoken about them so much over the past hour that you can’t help but ask him that question point blank.

“So happy,” He responds with ease, a laugh on his lips, “they always worried me being an idol meant I’d never be able to find the one and settle down, they’re going to love this story,”

You smile at the easy way he calls you ‘the one’, but the question you really asked still remains unanswered and you exhale softly, “But,” you manage, “will they be happy with me?”

Yunho stills, reaching across the bed to hook his finger under your chin and draw your eyes up to his again, “Very happy,” he says, “just like I am.”

Your muscles relax, his words a soothing balm, and you adjust your position on the pillow beneath you, “Just checking,”

“Mhm,” He studies your face, “jagi, why wouldn’t they be happy with you?”

The endearment slips off his lips with ease, and a burst of warmth spreads through you. You’ve never needed pet names and softness like this from a partner, but from him it makes your heart quicken.

The momentary elation fades though, and his question comes back into your mind. You take a deep breath, you owe it to him to tell him now, “My family won’t be happy,”

“With me?” His eyebrows raise.

“It’s me,” You shake your head, “my parents have difficult ideals, and I’ve never pleased them. It wouldn’t matter who you were, they… they’ll find a way to not be happy for me.”

His eyes soften, and his thumb strokes along your jaw, “I’m sorry,”

“It is what it is,”

“Are your parents soulmates?” He asks softly.

You shake your head, “No, they don’t really believe in soulmarks,”

You watch his eyes widen in surprise.

“Unless,” You can’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes, “the match is ‘fortuitous’,”

“For status?” He surmises.

“Status, money,” You shrug, “connection. But I think I could marry the next president and they’d still find a way to be disappointed in me,”

His jaw flexes tense for just a moment, before his expression smooths over again.

“Anyway,” You clear the bad thoughts away as quickly as they came, “my sister and I never went along like they wanted, like my cousins and the rest of my family, so we are the great disappointments. It’s not… it’s fine, but, I guess you should know before we, you know,”

He smiles, a bit of amusement in his expression that you can’t place, “Did you think having bad parents would scare me off?”

“It could,”

“No,” He slides a hand under your side and tugs you across the mattress to press a fast kiss to your lips, “it never could.”

“But I’m,” You start, all the reasons why a partner might care ringing in your ears.

“Beautiful?” He cuts you off, “Just my type? If it’s anything else I don’t want to hear you say it,”

Your stomach flip flops hard and you push lightly against his chest to get him to stop.

“The thing is,” He brushes your hair back from your cheek, “my parents are soulmates. I grew up in a house full of a lot of love, even when they were being strict and scolding us.”

Your smile at his warm expression.

“So I know they’ll love you,” He explains, “they know what this feels like, what it means. I have plenty of family for us both,”

Your throat constricts, tears threatening for a moment.

“Your sister, though,” He grounds you out of the bad thoughts without even thinking, “you two are close?”

“Very,”

“I’d like to meet her,” He smiles.

“You two would get along great, my sister and her wife both, actually,”

Yunho nods, listening attentively, “Do they have kids?”

“Not yet,” You groan, “but I’m dying to be an auntie,”

His thumb drags a comforting line across your cheekbone, his expression warm and affectionate, “Cute,”

You sink into the pillows, a yawn creeping up to your lips, “She’s going to lose her mind when I call her,”

“Yeah?”

“Mm,” You huff a laugh, “she thought that when I started working here I should have found an inconspicuous way to bump into all of you to test possible bonds. She’s going to be riding the ‘I told you so’ train.”

“She’s funny,” He smirks.

“Very,” You sigh, unconsciously cuddling into his warmth.

“Has it been a while since you’ve seen her?” He asks softly, adjusting his arms around you so that you’re cradled against his chest with the pillows at your back.

“Mhm,” You yawn again, the warmth of his body settling the last of the adrenaline inside you, “a while,”

“Let’s find a day off after the tour,” He tucks the duvet around you.

“Yeah?” Your eyes feel heavy.

“Yeah,” He kisses your forehead.

“Yunho,” You yawn again, dipping your forehead into his chest, “God, I’m so tired again,”

“Mhm,” He yawns too, “me too, jagi,”

You hum softly, fingers slipping under the edge of his shirt just to feel a little skin, “I like that,” you murmur, “I like you,”

“I like you too,” He chuckles, “now go to sleep,”

A piece of you wants to protest, wants more time cocooned in this day with him, but something about his body feels so right. After a week of sleeping poorly, your body tight and anxious and heart fluttering for no reason at all, when he touches you, your mind goes blissfully blank.

Your muscles relax, your breath dropping low and soft in your chest.

Nuzzled against his tattoo, you drift.

You’re supposed to wake up to an alarm. Early enough that you could slip back into your hotel room and your own bed to yawn and stretch next to Iseul and make her believe you were there the whole night. That’s what was supposed to happen.

Instead, you wake to the heavy sound of a hotel door and Seonghwa’s voice, Yunho jolting awake beside you.

“Oh my god,” Seonghwa says for what sounds like the third time to your fuzzy sleep-addled brain, “oh my god?”

“Hyung,” Yunho pushes himself up, his arms unwinding from around you, “hey, don’t freak out,”

“Don’t freak out,” Seonghwa’s eyes blow wide, “are you fucking kidding me? Hongjoong is going to kill you,”

“You don’t understand,” Sleep is still heavy on him and he shakes his head to try to pull himself away.

“I understand plenty,” Seonghwa counters, “how long have you been lying to us?”

His reaction surprises you, and you ease yourself up to sit next to Yunho. You’re not sure what to say or not say, you don’t know what they’ve discussed in the past when it comes to dating and relationships, but by Seonghwa’s outburst you can guess it’s honesty at a minimum.

Yunho’s face falls, “No, it’s not that,”

“I can tell you what it looks like,” Seonghwa lowers his voice to what amounts to a stage whisper.

“Hyung,” Yunho rubs his eyes, running a hand through his mop of black hair.

“It looks like you’ve been sneaking around,” He continues, “how long have you two been fucking?”

“Hey,” Yunho’s voice sharpens, and his hand crosses your body to anchor on your opposite thigh.

Seonghwa’s eyes track it and he shakes his head, “This is so stupid,” he steps back in surprise, “you’re both being so, incredibly stupid.”

Yunho gives you a squeeze and opens his mouth to reply but Seonghwa keeps going.

“Naive is what it is,”

Irritation bubbles in your gut and you can’t stop yourself, “Seonghwa, will you shut up for one second?”

He stops in his tracks, mouth falling open, “What?”

“Can you please,” You hold his gaze, “please, just listen to Yunho for a minute before you jump to conclusions.”

He shifts, taking a step back and crossing his arms, and then he looks to Yunho.

Yunho finds your eyes quickly, silently asking, and you give him a nod.

“Okay,” Yunho runs a hand through his hair again, “I’ll just say it.”

Seonghwa waits, his expression completely neutral except for the irritated corner of his lips.

“y/n is my soulmate,” Yunho squeezes your thigh again and you slip your hand into his to twine your fingers together, “we didn’t know, but now we do.”

Seonghwa’s brows go high, shock filling his features.

“We’re not hiding,” You add, “we just… it’s just,”

“How long?” Seonghwa manages.

“Soundcheck yesterday,” Yunho says, “we haven’t known long enough to lie, hyung.”

“You’re sure?” He looks between you both, and you know what he’s thinking. How could it be possible to know each other for years and not know.

“We’re sure,” You answer confidently, calmly, “I swear,”

“It’s real,” Yunho’s thumb strokes across knuckles, “it’s very real.”

Seonghwa swallows, taking in the news and sinks back against the hotel dresser, “Well, fuck,”

“Yeah,” Yunho laughs.

“You were off timing yesterday,” Seonghwa points out, “and distracted,”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Yunho grimaces.

“No, but,” He shrugs, “I know you and you’re never off time.”

“It wasn’t easy to focus on the show yesterday,” Yunho admits.

“I’m sorry,” You nudge him with your shoulder, knowing a huge portion of that must have been the panic flooding his side of the link.

He shakes his head, “There’s nothing to be sorry for,”

When you look back up, Seonghwa is smiling and he sighs, “Oh, you’ve both got it bad.”

“Obviously,” You hide your face in your sweatshirt sleeve.

“So, what’s the plan?” Seonghwa asks, “Because you can’t act like this around anyone else,”

Your mouth feels dry.

“We don’t know,” Yunho answers, “we have to figure that out, for now I think we just try to keep things normal.”

Seonghwa nods and then leans forward, “Listen, I know you’re not asking for my advice,”

You both wait.

“But you're my brother,” Seonghwa says unequivocally, “so I’m going to give you some anyway.”

Yunho nods.

“You wear your heart on your sleeve,” Seonghwa points out, “and I’m sure it will be hard to act like acquaintances in front of everyone, but you have to do it, at least until you make a plan.”

“Yeah,” Yunho’s cheeks are a little pink and he squeezes your hand.

“No one fires the idol for things like this,” He reminds you both, “so for her sake, put it away for today.”

“He’s right,” You nod, “today we go back to coworkers,”

Yunho draws your clasped hands up and kisses your fingers, “Okay,”

“You’re lucky I offered to check on you,” Seonghwa sighs heavily, “if any of the managers came in,”

“Check on me?” Yunho perks up at that, “Hwa, why,”

Things come into focus for you at that moment, how bright the hotel room is with sunlight, how well rested you really feel. You twist in the bed and look at the digital clock, “Oh no,”

“You were late,” Seonghwa explains, “we figured you overslept, I offered to use the spare key to get you up.”

“Fuck,” Yunho curses.

You both slept straight through Yunho’s alarm.

“Iseul is going to fucking kill me,” You roll out of bed, your hands breaking apart as you scramble for you phone, “what the hell am I going to tell her?”

Your phone reads nine-thirty. In thirty minutes you’re supposed to be packed into a van and on the way to the venue and when you look at the collection of notifications your stomach churns.

Three calls from Iseul, and a lengthy string of text messages.

Did you already get up and get ready?

Your work bag is still here…

Not funny, girl, where are you?

Did you make it back last night?

Can you answer me??

I’m getting worried. I haven’t heard anything - You haven’t even read these?

You better not be dead in a ditch, I’ll kill you myself.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Your hands are trembling as you tap out the fastest reply - Alive, be right there.

Yunho’s a whirlwind behind you, stripping out of his sleep clothes and yanking on whatever outfit is at the top of his suitcase, “It’s fine, it’s going to be fine,”

“Sure,” You search the floor for your jeans and dart into the bathroom, “my best friend is going to murder me though,”

You change at lightning speed, swapping his sweats for your jeans and then tying up your hair into a messy bun before pushing back out into the main room.

“Everyone’s downstairs,” Seonghwa offers, “you shouldn’t run into anyone on the way back to your room.”

“Good, okay, good,” Your heart is pounding, “where’s my room key?”

“Here,” Yunho darts forwards and finds the little envelope, passing it to you, “take a breath,”

“I have to go,” You manage, “I have to think of something,”

“Don’t kiss and tell,” Seonghwa offers and he’s being funny but it’s vaguely helpful.

“Wait,” Yunho grabs your hand and tugs you back, snapping your phone out of your hand.

“Yunho, I don’t,” You start to say but he waves you off.

He types fast, adding himself as a contact in Kakao Talk, “My number,” he explains.

Seonghwa huffs a laugh.

You take the phone back and tuck it into your pocket, “I’ll message you later,”

“Good,” He dips forwards and presses one warm, tender kiss to your lips, “now get out of here,”

You kiss him back, just once and fast, a little shred of self indulgence before you have to act like he’s just another guy, and then you’re darting out of the room, shouting back a thank you at Seonghwa as you go.

You navigate the halls fast, and opt to take the stairs to get down one floor faster and more inconspicuously. You take a deep breath when you get to your hotel door, and then you dive.

“So you are alive,” Iseul’s waiting, just like you thought she might be. She’s sitting on your still made bed, her phone in her hands and a tense expression on her face, “I was just about to tell the managers you were missing,”

“I’m so sorry, seriously, I didn’t mean to worry you,” You take a few steps into the room.

Her eyes flick over you, and you realize at the moment her eyes widen that you’re still wearing Yunho’s hoodie, your sweater still discarded on his bedroom floor.

“You hooked up with someone?” Her voice spikes, “Are you kidding me?”

Thankfully the hoodie is plain, just a heather gray with no identifying attributes that scream his name, but you’re still swimming in it and it’s clear you’re rumpled from bed.

“Listen,” You hold up your hands, “I didn’t mean to not text you, I just fell asleep,”

“With some guy?” She stands.

“Yes,” You settle on some version of the truth.

“Who?” She flounders, “We’re supposed to text each other,”

And you always did, when either one of you went home with someone there was always a little preemptive safety report. A name, an address, a shared location, something so that you weren’t completely alone in the world with a strange guy.

“I’m sorry,” You say again.

She studies you, and it’s like she’s looking through you.

“Oh my god,” Her eyes widen, “we know him.”

“Iseul,” Your cheeks heat.

She points at you, “I’m right!”

“It’s not a big deal,” You skirt around her words.

“The only reason you wouldn’t text me is if you were with someone we both know,” She narrows her eyes, “so give it up.”

“I can’t,” You press, “leave it,”

“Why are you being so weird?”

“Iseul,” You sigh, avoiding her gaze, “I just woke up in a panic, and I have like fifteen minutes to get showered, can you give me the third degree later?”

“I’m not letting this go,”

“Yeah,” You pull off Yunho’s sweatshirt and head to the bathroom, “I know, but we have work.”

“Work with a coworker you slept with,” She stands in the doorway while you start the shower, and you realize her tone isn’t so much as angry anymore but probing.

“I didn’t sleep with him,” You groan, “well, I guess I did, but we didn’t have sex, okay?”

“That’s awfully cozy for a one night stand,” She crosses her arms, “unless you’re seeing someone? Are you seeing someone?”

“No,” You test the water heat and unbutton your jeans, “I swear I’ll explain another time, but can you just drop it for today? Or do you want to stand here and watch me shower?”

“Fine,” She concedes, “you will tell me?”

“I swear,” You nod, “I want to tell you, but I’m not ready yet, okay?”

Her eyes soften up at that, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” You nod, “but I’m having big feelings about it and I need to work it out,”

“Oh,” In all the years you’ve known her, she’s never seen you in love or even close, and she just blinks, “got it,”

“Can I shower now?” You gesture towards the running water.

“Yeah,” She steps back, “yeah, but I’m still mad you didn’t text me.”

“Okay,”

“And I’m still going to guess who it is,” She smirks.

“Fine,”

Her smile widens and she rolls her eyes, “I bet it’s one of the BB guys, isn’t it? You always like a dancer,”

She turns the corner before she can watch you blushing harder, so nearly on the money with her guess, but you put it all out of your mind for now and focus on your day. You’re late, and it’s about to be another long one. You’ll have time for everything else later, if you can just keep your cool.

Work is bizarre to say the least. You and Yunho both do an excellent job of not looking at each other except for when he’s in your makeup chair, and you’re getting better and better at ignoring both San’s and Seonghwa’s nervous glances.

This time you start the makeup early, less time pressure with the schedule adjustments, and the night goes off without a hitch. Soundcheck to stage to VIP benefits, it’s a whirlwind and you’re grateful for the distractions everywhere you look.

You can still feel him, emotions from his side of the link ebbing and flowing throughout the day, but the sharp intensity of yesterday has dulled a bit after your night together. In quiet moments you find yourself thinking about his lips, or the way his hands held you as you tumbled into sleep, but you push it down and stay professional.

As the show ends, Iseul ropes you into team dinner, desperate to observe who you interact with and how, still on her quest to find your mystery bed partner, but the boys aren’t there and so there’s nothing for her to really see.

Later, with Iseul passed out from one too many shots of soju, you slip back into Yunho’s hoodie and cuddle into the warmth of your own bed. You need more sleep, you know that, but your brain isn’t cooperating. You toss and turn in the sheets, body feeling like a taut cord, and all you can think of is him.

You miss him.

It’s not even two days of having him in your life like this and you feel nervous and achy without him. There’s no way you’ll survive two years of this.

Over an hour passes as you sigh, changing positions again and again, and then your phone finally buzzes. You scramble to see if it’s a message from him, nearly dropping your phone in the process.

Can’t sleep? - He must be feeling your restlessness.

Not at all - You reply, chest feeling warm at the contact.

Little bubbles pop up immediately to indicate he’s typing and then another message pops on your screen - You’d think after last night we’d both be exhausted.

So you’re as awake as I am?

Just can’t relax. I liked having you here last night. - He confesses.

You roll over in the bedding onto your front and push the pillow under your chest before you keep texting - I liked it too. I’d come up except Iseul wouldn’t lay off guessing who I was with this morning.

Oh? Did she guess correctly? - You can practically see the smirk on his face.

Nope - You tease back.

Was she upset? - He asks.

At first, but I told her I would tell her soon I just needed some time - You reply.

That’s good, honest. - His message makes you smile.

How was Seonghwa? - You tap out.

Fine…. stressing and acting like a hyung, you know - He says.

You smile and type out another message - Is he keeping this to himself for now?

Yes - Yunho’s message comes in, and then another - For now, he knows we need to decide things first.

That’s good - You send back.

Things lull for a moment, and you try to think of something more to say, but Yunho swoops in with a question that makes you bite your lip to keep from laughing - Who did Iseul guess you were with? Was I even on the list?

I thought you’d be happy she didn’t guess - You reply.

Bubbles appear immediately, then another message - I’m a little offended, I’m the obvious choice.

Why’s that? - You tease him.

You feel something warm in your chest, and his next message flies back - I thought I was your type?

You stifle another laugh - You are, she’s not very observant.

So who did she guess?

Your belly flip flops and you hide your face in the pillow for a moment. His obvious jealousy, even just to tease you, is making your heart quicken and you can’t stop yourself from making it harder on him.

You take a breath and reply - About half the BB crew and a few of your managers.

The replies don’t come for a moment, and you nervously refresh the chat.

Finally a message comes in - I’m trying to think of something funny to say, but I’m actually just irrationally jealous.

She was just teasing, no need to be jealous - You smile into your hand.

Doesn’t matter - He says - Now I’m just here alone wondering which of our coworkers Iseul thinks you have chemistry with

He is jealous. You swallow hard, trying to ignore the swooping sensation in your belly and press your legs a little tighter together. If you close your eyes you can feel the echo of his hands on you from last night, and all you want in the world is for him to come down here and kiss you hard like that again.

With a slow exhale you return to your phone - Don’t be jealous, Yunho. We both know I’m yours.

Yeah? - His reply comes after a beat - No need to be jealous then.

Exactly - You reply.

I bet you like it a little though - His message flies in as yours sends.

You feel warm all over and you run a nervous hand through your hair before replying - No, I don’t.

Jagi, you forget I can feel how worked up you’re getting.

Your stomach clenches, drops and twists. He’s going to be the death of you and you’re still just flirting.

You work up the courage and finally send your reply - You’re the one that pinned me to the wall last night.

I’ve been thinking about that all day - The message reply is fast.

You smile and bite your lip, snuggling further into the mattress and trying to ignore the growing pulse between your thighs - You did seem distracted during rehearsals.

You feel warmth in your chest, and you know exactly how much your flirting is affecting him. Another text pings through and you shiver when you read it - How could I not be distracted with you there? All I could think about was the way you said my name last night.

Your thighs press together - Yunho?

Yes, jagi?

Or more whiny, was it? Yunho-ya? - You type it out fully, emphasizing the extended sound, knowing exactly what he wants to hear from the way he gripped you last night.

The room is suddenly hot, and your heart beats faster to sync with his.

It takes a moment for him to respond, bubbles popping up and then receding again and you wonder how he’s lying in bed. If he’s hard already, if he’s palming himself? You wonder if he sleeps naked when he’s alone and youre core clenches, arousal pooling in your gut and you know he can feel the threads of it. When he finally presses send on his message you have to cover your mouth to keep quiet.

Feeling needy? Are you squirming around in that hotel bed wishing for me, sweetheart?

You feel that message from your top to your toes and you steal a fast glance at the bed next to you. Iseul is sound asleep, turned away from you and snoring softly, and you let out a relieved, shuddering breath.

You could pump the brakes here, tease him and find a way to say goodnight, but you simply can’t. Need and arousal overwhelms you and you tap back your reply fast - I’ve been aching all day.

Do you have headphones?

The question catches you off guard, but you write back - Yes, airpods.

Put them in - He says, and you swallow tightly, reaching for the little headphone case on your bedside table.

Your fingers are shaking as you take them out of the case and put them in, making sure they’re connected before you reply - Done.

His call lights up your phone, ringing in your headphones and you swipe to answer with a panicked glance at the bed next to you, but Iseul sleeps on, none the wiser.

“y/n?” His voice is so rich and quiet, a little raspy edge after singing all night and you nearly moan.

“Hi,” You whisper as soft as you can, “I can’t,”

“Don’t talk,” He soothes you, “don’t wake Iseul up, I’ll talk to you and you can text me back, okay?”

You minimize the call and open your chat back up, sending him a quick emoji to acknowledge his words.

“Perfect,” He laughs softly, “this is way easier than texting. Listen, I know we said slow, but I’d love to help you relax if you want that. If not, I can just say goodnight, it’s up to you.”

You exhale softly, a needy thrill in your gut - Let’s relax together.

“Oh,” He sighs pleasantly, “yes, I’d love that.”

You want me? - You ask.

“You can feel how much I do,” He responds, “I’m sitting here convincing myself not to come downstairs and get my hands on you.”

You hum softly, shifting in the sheets and relaxing deeper into the pillows.

You hear his own breath, the way he parts his lips with a wet sound, “Can you tell me what position you’re in?”

You tap out the reply - Lying on my front, on my stomach.

“Hmm,” He sounds pleased, “I bet you look so cute, all twisted up in the sheets and blushing,”

I was tossing and turning.

“I bet you were,” He groans a little, “I tried everything. I hit the gym, cold shower, did some deep breathing, but you have me so keyed up I can’t sleep,”

You send him another emoji, the blushing face.

He laughs, the rumble of it too deep and warm in your ear with your headphones in.

You tap out another message - What position are you in? Trying to picture it.

You hear him shift around in the sheets, “I’m on my back,”

Wearing?

He chuckles, “Aren’t I supposed to be the one asking what you’re wearing?”

I asked you first.

“Fair,” He shifts again, and you picture him restless on his back in the bed you shared the night before, “just boxers,”

A heavy sigh passes through your lips.

“And you?”

You wish it were sexier all of a sudden, but that just wouldn’t be practical in a room with your friend so you tell him honestly - Pajamas, the button down kind, they’re gray.

“God, you’re adorable,” The covers on his end shift again, “wish you were up here with me.”

Me too

“This is probably better,” He says though, “I don’t think I could hold myself back for another night.”

Me either - You confess.

“y/n,” His voice warms, low in his chest, “jagiya, can I help you? Can I tell you what I want you to do?”

Your hands are shaking and you type the reply so fast there’s a typo that you have to fix - Pfease - Please.

He chuckles, “Alright, get comfortable, just listen to my voice, okay?”

You message him one last thought - What about you?

“I’m… I’m, uh,” He lets out a shaky breath, “I’m already stroking for you,”

You press your lips together to keep from making a sound, dropping your forehead to the pillow in front of you.

That’s so hot - You text him quickly when you hear him say your name, probably a little nervous he came on too strong.

He hums, “Good,” he says, “then don’t worry about me, just listen to my voice.”

You set your phone to the side, snuggling into the mattress and the pillows just like he asked for, sparing one more glance at Iseul to confirm she’s still completely out of it.

“Comfy?” He asks when you stop shifting around.

“Mhm,” You murmur in a whisper.

“Good,” He sighs, “now slip one of your hands under your cute little pajamas, between your thighs.”

You slide your arm down, tucking it under your body and into your sleep pants.

“Under your panties too,” He says, his voice a little husky.

“Mhm,” You murmur again, following his words.

“Tease a little for me,” He instructs you, “not too fast, just your fingertips on the outside,”

You breathe low and slow, gently passing the pads of your fingers over your slit, just barely ghosting against the hard nub of your clit.

“I bet you look so pretty right now,” He groans a little and you hear the sound of sheets, “you make the cutest faces when you’re feeling good,”

You make the tiniest noise of acknowledgement, fingers still brushing your cunt.

“Can’t wait to see you fall apart for real,” He confesses, a strain in his tone as he sighs, and you picture him. His long legs spread wide in the bed, stretching from corner to corner, his boxer briefs pushed down and his hand fisting his cock.

You’re going to lose it when you finally get to touch him again.

“You can touch now,” He murmurs, getting your attention back, “are you wet?”

You push your fingers through your folds and sigh when you feel just how slick and swollen you are. With your other hand you find the phone nearby and tap out a quick message - So wet

“That’s good, that’s so good,”

Your fingers start to circle on your oversensitive nub and there’s no way he won’t have you coming in five minutes or less with it feeling this good and his heavy breath in your ear.

“R-rub your clit for me,” He pants and your eyes roll, you can hear the sounds of the sheets rhythmically swishing as he pumps his cock harder, “get your fingers nice and wet,”

You whimper into the pillow, biting down hard on your cheek to keep yourself in check.

“Oh, fuck,” He groans, “sound so pretty,”

You rub harder, faster, your legs stretching wide under the downy comforter to give you better access.

“Baby,” He gets your attention with that, “push two fingers inside yourself, imagine I’m there with you,”

You shift, hand slipping lower and body arching to slide your middle and ring finger as deep as they’ll go. You stay mostly quiet this time, but your breathing is heavy and you’re sure he can hear it.

“Close your eyes,” He murmurs, “picture my fingers,”

You gasp softly.

“Grind,” He tells you, “grind your pussy on my palm and feel my fingers fucking you,”

You bite back a moan, only the slip of a soft sound into the microphone as you start to rock, rolling your hips and working your clit against your hand as you sink into his fantasy. You always took him for soft, the romantic type who’d blush at saying the word ‘pussy’ let alone talking you through what’s bound to be the headiest orgasm of your life, but you’ve never been so happy to be wrong.

“Yes,” Yunho moans and you shudder, “I can hear you moving, you’re doing so good,”

Pleasurable stars burst behind your eyes and you grind harder into your slick palm.

“So good,” He groans and you hear him roll in the bedding, his voice changing to something lower and breathier, and then the rhythmic rock of sheets from his side of the phone tells you all you need to know. You can almost see it, Yunho braced on his forearms, hips thrusting to drive his cock in and out of his hot fist, his face buried in the pillow you slept on the night before.

Heat melts through you, your body alight, and you grapple to find the phone again - Close

“Already?” He says in a flushed exhale, “You’re so hot, that’s so hot,”

You need him to talk to you, you need him to tell you what to do, and you whimper into the bedding as you work your body faster up to the peak.

“You gonna come for me?” He murmurs, “Yeah? Hmm?”

You drop the phone and press a hand over your lips, stifling the threat of a real moan.

“Let go,” His voice is so low in your ear you can practically feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, “come for me,”

Your legs are trembling, knees digging into the mattress and sweat gathered on your brow, and you feel the pressure start to crack open inside you, “Coming,” you whimper into your fingers so he knows, and then it breaks.

“God, good girl, yes,” He groans, “I’m coming with you, fuck,”

Your body curls into itself as you release, locking up in pleasure as you feel wave after wave of heat. You bite down on your knuckle to keep from making a sound, silently falling apart, dimly aware somewhere in your gut that half the heat you felt was his, that part of that pleasure was his own.

Yunho moans in your ear as you ride the sensations, panting and cursing and you can’t wait to feel him pulsing inside you while he sounds this good.

You’re not sure how long it takes you to recover, but when your brain starts to connect again you realize you’re panting against the cool flat of the mattress and both your phone and pillow are nowhere to be found. You swallow hard and pop your head up, but Iseul hasn’t moved an inch and you thank god for her liberal use of melatonin while traveling.

In your ear you register the sound of Yunho’s breath and the end of a sentence, “still there?”

He must have been talking, and you try to focus in on the sound of him now as you slip your hand out from between your sticky thighs.

He exhales slowly and you hear him shifting around, “y/n, baby, are you there?”

“Uh-huh,” You manage.

“Sleepy?” He murmurs, misreading your sound, “That’s okay,”

You make a tiny noise of protest and search the bed for your phone.

“Baby?” He’s confused and you grin at his sleepy sated tone.

Sliding off the bed onto nearly boneless legs, you find your pillow off to the side and your phone underneath. You snap it up and send a message quickly - Wait

“Wait?” He breathes, “Sure, I’m not going anywhere, I’m here,”

You tiptoe to the bathroom as quietly as you can and then shut yourself behind the heavy door, flicking on the light and collapsing to sit on the closed toilet lid.

You disconnect your earbuds and bring your phone to your ear, “Hey,”

“Hey,” He murmurs, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” You smile, still a little breathless, “Hiding in the bathroom for a sec so I could actually talk to you,”

He hums, a quiet, lazy laugh, “Ah,”

“Are you okay?” You find yourself asking, a little nervous tumble in your gut.

“Me?” He says, “I’m incredible, you’re incredible,”

“Yeah?” You draw your knees up, wrapping your arms around yourself and smiling into the phone.

“That wasn’t too much, was it?” He checks, but you still hear the sound of him calling you ‘good girl’ and you shiver.

“Not too much,” You sigh into the phone.

“Good,” He hums, “I thought so, I was trying to pay attention to how you were feeling, but it was a little,”

“Hard to focus?” You offer and he laughs.

“Yeah,” He sighs again, heavy and sated.

“I can’t wait for this tour to be over,” You confess, “I just want to be with you,”

You feel a pang in your chest and listen as Yunho rolls in the sheets, “I know, I want that too,”

A little lump forms in your throat and you breathe through it, “Yunho,”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Have you ever felt like this before?” Your thundering heart has started to slow, and you let your eyes close as you murmur the question.

“Never,” He murmurs, “but I felt this way before we touched,”

You feel his tenderness wrap around your heart as if he were in the room with you, and with a small smile you whisper, “I thought you said you weren’t holding a candle?”

“I lied,” He says softly, “it’s been you for a long time,”

He doesn’t say it, not in so many words, but you feel the way he loves you through the link in a wave. It’s as good as any confession to you, just as honest if not more so.

“I wish I could come upstairs,” You manage, tears pricking your eyes.

You hear him swallow and breathe a slow breath through his nose, “Soon, I promise. We’re going to do this right,”

“I know,”

“Are your headphones still in?” He asks

“No, but I can switch back,”

“Put them back in and go get back in bed,” He softly instructs, “it’s late, but I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep, okay?”

“Okay,” You swap back over to your earbuds and adjust them.

“Get back to bed,” You can hear the smile in his voice.

“Yunho,” You interrupt him, “thank you for staying with me,”

“Always,” He says, and for the first time in your life when someone says they’ll be there, you believe it.

“I’m going back out,” Your voice drops to a whisper, “good night,”

“Mhm,” He listens as you slip back into bed, “just get comfortable, just breathe. I’m right here with you, jagiya, I’ll be right here.”

He murmurs to you softly until your mind is sinking into darkness, body finally unspooling and letting you drop off into sleep. It’s not the same as his arms around you, but it settles you more than any meditation, his voice a steady whisper through your dreams.

In the morning when you wake the call is still connected and the first sound you hear is his slow breath and the steady beat of his heart.

#yunho #jeong yunho #honeyhotteoks fic #yunho x reader #yunho fic #yunho ff #yunho smut #yunho fluff #ateez #ateez fic #ateez ff

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theonottsbxtch · 2 months ago

Text

EL COQUETO | FC43

an: welcome back as we write about my n.1 pookie, i've got some more works planned for him BUT i've just gotten to france so imma be very busy rip, based off of this request

summary: when franco catches feelings for a journalist who is persuaded he doesn't really want her.

wc: 7.6k

The paddock was alive with energy, buzzing with the hum of engines and the chatter of the press as they swarmed around the new driver. She watched him move through the crowd with ease, a slight swagger in his step and a dazzling smile that had already made him the focus of every camera. He was the story of the weekend: Franco Colapinto, the unexpected mid-season replacement, here to shake up the grid with his flashy driving style—and, evidently, his unapologetic charm.

He caught sight of her, raised an eyebrow in recognition, and made a beeline toward her with the confidence of someone who knew he’d be welcome, even if he hadn’t been invited.

“Hola,” he greeted, his voice carrying a thick, rolling Spanish accent that seemed to coat every word in warmth. “You must be my next question of the day. They warned me about the best journalist here—of course, I was told to behave.”

She gave him a practised smile, cool but polite. “Franco, welcome to the team. How are you feeling about joining mid-season?”

His eyes sparkled, unfazed by the businesslike tone. “How am I feeling?” He leaned in just slightly, as though sharing a secret. “Well, right now, very lucky. They said I’d get tough questions, but they didn’t say the interviewer would be… distracting.”

She fought the urge to look away, just barely managing to keep her composure. “So you feel ready for the pressure, then?” she asked, refocusing, though the tiniest hint of a blush warmed her cheeks.

“For the track? Yes, I am prepared to race anyone.” He paused, letting his gaze linger on her a beat too long. “For the interviews? That remains to be seen. Perhaps you can teach me how to handle that part, sí?”

She could sense her colleagues nearby, some watching with open amusement as they caught his flirtatious energy. Franco was as smooth as they came, that much was certain. But she wouldn’t be the one to crack first.

“I’m sure you’ll learn quickly,” she said, tilting her head, her voice steady, though her heart raced. “Now, back to the race. What are your goals for this weekend?”

His grin broadened, but he played along. “Goals for the weekend,” he echoed thoughtfully, shifting back into the question. “Win a few hearts, break a few records—no particular order.” He winked, and she felt a laugh bubble up before she stifled it, opting instead for a brisk nod.

“Right. Well, I hope you’re ready for the competition,” she managed.

He shrugged, eyes glinting with mischief. “With you here, qué competencia?”

She gave him a pointed look, resisting the smile tugging at her lips. “You know, charm doesn’t score you points on the track.”

“Ah, no?” He tilted his head, feigning surprise. “Then I suppose I’ll have to win the hard way.”

Just then, a flash of cameras went off around them, the media eating up every angle of Franco’s arrival. He seemed entirely unfazed, even performing slightly for the flashes. The crowd around them surged with questions about his plans, about what his first practice would look like, about his last season in Formula 2. But Franco’s attention was still locked on her, and he hadn’t missed a beat.

“So,” he said, with that soft smile of his, “do you think I’ll be able to charm Formula One, or will they be immune to my Argentian ways?”

She gave him a dry smile. “You might have your work cut out for you. It’s not a stroll through Argentina, after all.”

He laughed at that, clearly enjoying her wit. “You’re tough,” he said, a touch of admiration sneaking into his voice. “I can see why you’re the best.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Flattery won’t distract me from the questions, Franco.”

“No? Not even if I try very, very hard?” he asked, drawing out the words with a grin. It was ridiculous, really—the way he leaned into every word, the way he seemed to shine in the spotlight. But there was something endearing about it too, something that felt… unexpectedly genuine.

“Not even then,” she replied, her tone light but steady. “Let’s talk strategy. What’s your focus for your first race?”

He sighed, shifting slightly but keeping that glint in his eye. “Fine, I’ll behave,” he said with a sigh, straightening up to answer. “My focus is simple: get the car under me, push it to its limits, and aim for a strong finish. Maybe even a few surprise overtakes. I’ve been itching to get back on the track.”

It was the most serious answer he’d given yet, and she noted the shift in his voice—a hint of intensity breaking through the smooth, easy charm.

“And your teammate?” she pressed, sensing she’d found the thread to pull him out of his flirtatious veneer. “Are you prepared for the rivalry?”

Franco’s expression turned thoughtful for a moment, a flicker of something sharper in his eyes. “My teammate…” He paused, glancing away briefly before meeting her gaze again. “He’s William’s best. I’ll learn from him, give him the respect he deserves. But I didn’t come here to play second.”

She watched as someone next to her scribbled down his answer, though her mind wandered slightly, wondering at the complexity beneath his charm.

“Good to hear,” she said, offering a small nod. “We’ll all be watching to see if you live up to that confidence.”

“I live up to my promises,” he replied smoothly. Then he leaned in one last time, lowering his voice just for her. “One of them being to get at least one smile from you by the end of the weekend. I’ll start with that goal.”

Before she could reply, he gave a casual wave to the crowd, moving on to the next journalist as though he hadn’t just made her heart skip a beat with his easy, disarming confidence. She watched him go, flustered despite herself.

One thing was certain: Franco Colapinto was going to be a story.

When the time came, the race had barely begun, but her eyes were already glued to the screen, following the sleek white-and-blue car with Franco’s number emblazoned on the front. Despite her best efforts to stay neutral, to approach this like any other weekend, there was something magnetic about watching him. Franco Colapinto, the audacious rookie, who’d barely spent a week with the team and had taken to the grid without a single day of training in an F1 car.

From the start, it was clear he was playing it differently. He didn’t charge forward recklessly like other rookies might have, eager to prove themselves. Instead, Franco took a few cautious laps, feeling out the car, testing its responses. She noticed how his style evolved lap by lap, each one more aggressive, his moves sharper. He was adapting, learning the car right there in the thick of the race.

As the race progressed, he began to gain ground. Corner after corner, he squeezed every ounce of performance from his machine, edging closer to the pack with each lap. By mid-race, he was overtaking the backmarkers, slipping past seasoned drivers who had years on him, and the commentators were buzzing.

She caught herself smiling, feeling a strange, almost foolish pride as she watched. The memory of his easy, arrogant grin flashed in her mind, his voice low and teasing: “Do you think I’ll charm Formula One?” She’d laughed it off, but he had something special, didn’t he? That hunger for the track, the sheer nerve to go head-to-head with anyone in his way.

Then, as if her thoughts had summoned trouble, the camera cut to his car—a close-up on his visor as he fought for P12. Her heart caught as he made a daring move, threading his car through a razor-thin gap into the next turn. It was reckless, and yet somehow—somehow—he made it stick.

“P12!” The radio crackled through his team radio, their voice as surprised as she felt. For a rookie with zero F1 experience, it was practically a victory.

She exhaled, releasing a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. The chequered flag fell, and Franco’s car slowed down, his voice breaking through the team radio with a triumphant laugh, half-sighing, half-cheering in disbelief at his own result.

When she saw him back in the paddock, she managed to slip past the swarm of journalists waiting to pounce, positioning herself where he’d inevitably cross her path. She didn’t want to admit how much she wanted to hear his version of the race firsthand, to see if the adrenaline still sparkled in his eyes the way it had behind the visor.

When he finally caught sight of her, his face lit up. “Ah, my toughest questioner returns,” he said, the grin wide as he raked a hand through his hair, still tousled from the helmet. “So? Impressed?”

She raised an eyebrow, trying to keep her expression composed. “Not bad for a first race,” she said, voice calm but betraying the slightest hint of a smile. “Though I have to say, you took some pretty risky moves out there.”

Franco laughed, that low, familiar chuckle that could disarm anyone. “You sound like my engineer. But I had to make it interesting, didn’t I?” His gaze softened slightly, the playfulness ebbing for a moment. “I did better than you expected, maybe?”

“Maybe,” she admitted, leaning in just a bit. “I wouldn’t let it go to your head, though.”

He feigned a wince. “Ah, so I’ll have to work harder to impress you, then.”

With that, she couldn’t hold back the smile any longer. “Perhaps,” she said, voice softer. “But you’ve made a start.”

She followed the rest of the press corps into the media pen, her notebook in hand, watching as Franco slipped into his role with practised ease. The other drivers, still catching their breath, answered questions in measured tones, clearly exhausted. But Franco was… well, Franco. He leaned back against the barrier, relaxed, a half-smile playing on his lips as he answered questions, some about his lack of training, others about his shockingly high finish.

She hung back at first, observing him as he effortlessly charmed each journalist in turn, flashing that disarming grin and making even the toughest questions seem like casual conversation. But when his eyes caught hers across the small crowd, he subtly waved her forward, his grin widening.

“Ah, finally,” he said, his tone playful as she approached. “I was starting to think you were hiding from me.” The other journalists shot her curious glances, some smirking at Franco’s obvious interest.

She managed to keep her expression neutral, clearing her throat and lifting her voice to a professional tone. “Franco, congratulations on P12. Quite a debut.”

“Gracias, cariño,” he replied, eyes sparkling. “For a moment, I thought you didn’t think I could do it.”

“Well, you didn’t exactly take the most traditional route,” she shot back, raising an eyebrow. “You had us all on the edge of our seats with those overtakes.”

He leaned in a little, lowering his voice to just above a murmur, his gaze fixed on hers. “I thought about what you said. ‘Charm doesn’t score points.’ So I had to give you something else to smile about.”

She could feel her cheeks warm under his steady gaze, and she fought to keep her expression cool. “Don’t flatter yourself, Franco. I’m just here to report the facts.”

“Hmm,” he said, tapping his chin thoughtfully, though a playful smirk tugged at his lips. “Well, the fact is, I went from P20 to P12 on my first day. But somehow, I think I still haven’t impressed the person who matters most.”

“The person who—?” She trailed off, exasperated. “Franco, you were the story today.”

“Was I?” he asked, the innocent tone entirely ruined by the mischief in his eyes. “Because if I’m the story, you’re the reason it’s a good one.”

Before she could protest, he glanced over her shoulder at the next journalist, nodding politely. Then, in a flash, he was back to her, clearly undeterred. “When can we continue our interview?”

She forced herself to keep her composure. “I think you’ve given me more than enough material for one day.”

“A pity.” He shook his head, though his grin was unmistakable. “Then maybe next time, you’ll be a little more impressed.”

She watched him walk away, shoulders loose and steps casual as he moved from one group of reporters to the next, answering their questions with the same easy confidence he’d shown with her. She could still feel the heat of his gaze, the lingering effect of his words making her pulse quicken.

“Wow.” The journalist next to her, a seasoned reporter with a wry smile, gave her a knowing look. “You okay there? He has that effect, doesn’t he?”

She blinked, quickly snapping out of her daze, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up her neck. “I—yeah, I don’t know what’s going on,” she muttered, shaking her head, trying to compose herself. But she could still hear his words ringing in her ears, his playful teasing, the warmth in his gaze. “The person who matters most.”

“Oh, I think I do.” The other journalist smirked, nodding in Franco’s direction as he laughed and clapped a fellow driver on the shoulder. “It seems Franco over here has a slight crush.”

She scoffed, though it came out more flustered than she’d intended. “Franco has a crush on every woman he talks to. It’s his… thing since he got here.”

The journalist raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Maybe so, but I’ve watched him all day and that was different.”

Her colleague’s words only made her cheeks grow warmer. Was it that obvious? She was used to managing tough interviews, unflappable under pressure, and here she was, thrown off by a driver who hadn’t even been in Formula 1 for a full week. But somehow, Franco’s charm wasn’t just some casual game to him; it felt more… intense. And he’d directed every bit of that intensity straight at her.

The journalist chuckled. “Don’t overthink it. Enjoy the attention—it’s not every day a rookie looks at you like you’re the finish line.”

She glanced away, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile. She didn’t want to admit it, not to her colleague, and definitely not to herself, but there was something in the way he’d looked at her, like she was more than just another journalist, more than just one of the many people crowding his spotlight.

“Well, let’s hope he stays focused on the real finish line,” she replied, aiming for a casual tone that didn’t quite land. But she couldn’t deny it—Franco Colapinto was becoming more than just the story of the weekend. He was starting to feel like her story, too.

Later that evening, she sat in her hotel room, trying to unwind from the chaos of race day. The lights of the city glimmered outside her window, but her mind was still caught on Franco—his effortless charm, that maddening smirk, the way he’d singled her out, even with half the media pen watching. It was absurd, really. She’d covered far bigger stories, spoken with veteran champions, and yet one rookie had managed to leave her feeling more flustered than she’d care to admit.

With a sigh, she scrolled through her phone, halfheartedly catching up on messages, until a notification popped up that made her heart skip.

Francolpainto has sent you a message.

She hesitated, a mix of curiosity and nerves swirling in her stomach as she opened it. The message was simple, casual—like he hadn’t already spent the whole day keeping her off balance.

Franco: Hola! Are you at the hotel?

Before she could talk herself out of it, she typed a quick reply.

Her: Yes, I am.

The response came almost immediately.

Franco: Perfect! I’m downstairs in the lounge. Come have dinner with me?

She stared at the screen, her mind racing. It was tempting—she’d be lying to herself if she said it wasn’t. But she knew his type all too well, didn’t she? The charming new driver who flirted with every journalist, every fan, anyone who would listen. She could already imagine him saying the exact same things to another reporter tomorrow.

No, she couldn’t let herself get pulled in. Not by someone who was probably just looking for a bit of attention.

Her: Thanks, but I think I’ll pass. Long day.

She set the phone down, hoping that would be the end of it, but a new message came through almost instantly.

Franco: Too bad. I was hoping I’d finally get a smile out of you without a hundred cameras around.

She rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t deny the small flutter his words sent through her. He was persistent, that was for sure.

Her: You’re very determined, Franco. But I have to ask—do you make this invitation to all the journalists?

A pause, just a few seconds longer than his usual quick responses. Then, his reply appeared, simple and direct.

Franco: No, just the one who keeps me on my toes.

Her: Pity, this one isn’t intrested.

She set her phone down after typing that, ignoring the little thrill that shot through her when he messaged her again almost immediately. Franco’s charm was undeniably effective, but she wasn’t about to let herself become just another name on his roster of admirers. He’d have to do a lot more than offer a casual dinner invite if he wanted her attention.

Franco: Really? You’re going to turn me down just like that?

She smirked at the screen. Of course he wasn’t used to hearing “no.”

Her: Really. I’ve seen you in action today, Franco. I’m sure you’ll find someone else to keep you company.

A longer pause this time, as if her words had taken him off-guard. When he replied, his tone was more thoughtful.

Franco: That’s not what I meant. Today was… different. I don’t want to go to dinner with just anyone. I want to go with you.

Her heart skipped a beat, but she forced herself to stay firm. She typed a quick reply, keeping it casual.

Her: Nice try. But I’ve seen the way you charm everyone you talk to. You’re going to have to try a lot harder if you want me to believe that.

A few minutes passed, and she wondered if maybe he’d let it go. But just as she was about to put her phone down, another message appeared.

Franco: Okay. Fair enough. How about this: tomorrow, after practice, let me show you what a real date looks like. No crowds, no cameras. Just you and me.

She hesitated, feeling the pull of curiosity mingled with doubt. She knew he could be as persistent as he was charming, and there was something intriguing about his willingness to push past her refusal.

Her: Why should I believe this isn’t just a game to you?

His response came quickly this time, almost earnest.

Franco: Because no one else makes me want to try this hard. I’m not playing around here, cariño. Tell me what I need to do, and I’ll do it.

She smiled, a little thrill rushing through her. For the first time, he seemed genuinely off-balance, unsure, and she couldn’t help but enjoy it.

Her: We’ll see if you mean that. Good luck tomorrow, Franco.

Franco: Gracias. And just so you know… I’m not giving up that easily.

The following week, she found herself in the bustling paddock of the Baku, her eyes catching sight of Franco’s car parked in the paddock. She had to admit, he’d stayed true to his word since their last exchange, staying out of her messages—though his lingering glances and smiles across the paddock hadn’t exactly disappeared. If anything, he seemed more determined, more focused. It was all part of his act, she reminded herself. And yet, there was something undeniably thrilling about it.

She was busy gathering notes when she felt a familiar presence beside her. Franco had sidled up, hands tucked into the pockets of his team jacket, his easygoing grin making her pulse quicken in spite of herself.

“Back to cheer me on, sí?” he asked, eyes bright with that familiar mischief.

She held back a smile, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “I’m here to cover the race, Franco. Your cheering section is back there.” She nodded to the growing crowd of fans waving his name on signs with Argentinan flags just a few metres away.

He laughed, the sound warm and rich. “They’re great, sure, but I was looking for one particular fan. The one who told me I’d have to work harder if I wanted to impress her.”

She raised an eyebrow, stepping out of earshot of the nearest camera. “Oh, you remember that, do you?”

“Every word,” he said, his gaze steady. “I thought about it all week.”

A small thrill ran through her, though she kept her voice steady and her tone cool. “Well, if you’re serious, you’ll have to do better than last week’s P12. Otherwise, it just looks like more talk.”

His expression shifted, his easy grin giving way to a flash of determination. “If it’s a higher position you want,” he said, leaning in just slightly, “then I’ll get it. Just keep watching.”

She crossed her arms, fighting the smile tugging at her lips. “I’ll be watching, Colapinto. Don’t disappoint me.”

He held her gaze for a moment, his eyes flickering with something that felt genuine, earnest. “I don’t plan to,” he murmured, stepping back with a wink before heading toward his car.

As he disappeared into the garage, her heart raced. Franco Colapinto, the rookie charmer, was setting out to prove himself to her. And, as much as she hated to admit it, she was looking forward to seeing if he could keep his promise.

She sat in the media centre, eyes locked on the screen as the race unfolded. Franco’s car was easy to spot, weaving its way through the pack with a precision she hadn’t expected. He was starting further up this time, P18, but it was still a long shot to even think he’d break into the top ten. Yet as the laps ticked by, he held his ground, pushing, clawing his way forward with a tenacity that had everyone watching in awe.

“Impressive for a rookie,” she overheard another journalist mutter, and she felt a strange pang of pride.

Halfway through the race, Franco made a daring overtake, squeezing past two midfield drivers into P10. She sat forward, barely breathing. He wasn’t just hanging on—he was gaining, going after every single opportunity on the track with a fierceness she hadn’t seen before.

He’d promised her he’d finish higher than last week, and she’d thought it was just talk, maybe a little playful charm. But here he was, proving her wrong lap by lap.

By the time he made it to P9, she was leaning forward in her seat, clutching her notebook tightly. And then, with a bold move on the final few laps, he passed another driver, slipping into P8. Her heart raced as she watched him hold his ground, fending off the competition, determined to keep the position he’d fought so hard for. The chequered flag dropped, and Franco crossed the line in P8.

She exhaled, a rush of surprise and admiration flooding through her. She’d known he was talented, of course—he wouldn’t have made it this far otherwise. But this? Climbing ten positions in a single race, all for a chance to prove himself to her? It was more than she’d expected.

As the race ended, she moved through the paddock, her mind whirling. Franco Colapinto, the charming rookie who flirted with everyone, had just delivered one of the most impressive drives of the day. For her. And she wasn’t sure if she was more impressed with his skill or his determination to keep his word.

She barely had a chance to catch her breath before she was back in the paddock, microphone in hand, ready to take on the post-race interviews. As she waited for Franco, she replayed his climb through the ranks in her mind—his nerve, his timing, the way he’d handled himself on the track. It wasn’t just impressive; it was astonishing. And as much as she tried to shake it off, she couldn’t ignore the small thrill that ran through her at the thought that he’d done it, in part, for her.

Finally, Franco appeared, still in his race suit his face glistening with the sheen of hard work. There was a slight glimmer of triumph in his eyes as he spotted her, a grin spreading across his face. He walked over, ignoring the other cameras and reporters, his gaze focused squarely on her.

She raised her microphone, keeping her expression as neutral as she could. “Franco Colapinto, P8—your second race in Formula 1, and already a massive improvement from last week. Can you walk us through it?”

He took a quick breath, then leaned in, a spark of mischief in his eyes. “Well, you know, someone told me I had to get higher than P12 if I wanted to impress them,” he said, his tone light but his gaze steady on hers. “So I did it for them. Great motivation.”

Heat crept up her neck, and she forced herself to stay focused. She could feel the eyes of the other journalists and team members on them, her colleagues probably smirking at his obvious attempt to fluster her, but she managed to hold her ground.

“Impressive,” she said, keeping her voice level. “And this ‘motivation’—I assume it’s the same one who’s kept you on your toes all week?”

Franco’s grin grew wider, unabashed. “Absolutely. Turns out, when someone challenges me, I take it seriously.” He shifted his stance, his gaze softening just a fraction. “And if they ask, I’ll do it again.”

A few people around them chuckled, and she fought the urge to roll her eyes. This wasn’t the usual post-race banter, and he didn’t seem interested in giving anyone the typical driver answers. He was speaking to her as if they were alone, and for a brief moment, she almost forgot the cameras.

“Well, whatever you’re doing,” she replied, finally letting a small smile slip, “it seems to be working. P8 is no small feat.”

He tilted his head, as if studying her. “Then maybe next week, you’ll set the bar even higher for me?” His voice was low, just enough for her to hear.

She felt her resolve waver slightly, but managed to maintain her professionalism. “We’ll see, Colapinto. For now, let’s just focus on how you plan to keep this up.”

He chuckled, shifting his grip on his helmet. “Oh, I think I have all the motivation I need right here.” With one last grin and a wink, he turned to greet the other journalists, leaving her to process what was easily the most disarming post-race interview she’d ever conducted.

Later that night, she was back in her hotel room, unwinding with a cup of tea, trying to shake off the lingering thrill of Franco’s performance—and his audacity in the post-race interview. She still couldn’t believe how he’d shamelessly directed half of his answers at her, leaving her just as off-balance as he had on the track. But as much as she tried to dismiss it, her thoughts kept circling back to his determination, his promise that he’d push harder just because she’d challenged him.

Her phone buzzed with a message, and she glanced down to see it was from the William’s Instagram Account.

Team Rep: Hey, what’s your room number?

She frowned for a moment, surprised by the casualness of the message. But teams occasionally followed up with journalists for clarifications or comments, especially after high-profile performances like Franco’s. Assuming they needed to drop off some post-race press notes or team statements, she quickly typed back her room number.

Her: Room 914.

Team Rep: Perfect. Thanks.

Not even a minute later, she heard a quiet knock on her door. She glanced at the time, wondering if the team rep had come by himself. But when she opened the door, the hallway was empty. Instead, resting on the floor in front of her was a beautiful bouquet of wildflowers—vibrant, unruly, and charmingly imperfect, wrapped with a small card slipped between the stems.

Her pulse quickened. She didn’t have to check the note to know exactly who had left them.

Still, curiosity got the best of her, and she crouched down, carefully lifting the bouquet to pull the card free.

“To my motivation: thank you for the push. Let’s raise the stakes again soon. — F.

A soft, reluctant smile tugged at her lips. She felt the warmth creeping up her cheeks, aware that Franco Colapinto had managed to surprise her again. It was a move so bold, so unexpected—and, somehow, more genuine than any casual dinner invitation could have been.

She sighed, shaking her head but unable to fight the smile any longer. As she placed the flowers on the table, their vibrant petals catching the soft light, she couldn’t help but wonder what Franco would pull next to prove himself. Because one thing was certain: he wasn’t giving up. And maybe, just maybe, she didn’t want him to.

She couldn’t resist. Picking up her phone, she sent a quick message, keeping it light, casual.

Her: Cute.

It didn’t take long for his response to pop up.

Franco: Oh? You find me cute?

She rolled her eyes, though her heart skipped a beat as she typed back.

Her: No, the flowers were a cute move.

A beat passed, and then came his reply, playful but edged with a hint of something more.

Franco: Well, then… would you let the guy behind the cute move take you out for dinner?

She hesitated, fingers hovering over her phone. She knew what this looked like—a line blurred between work and something personal, maybe too personal. And for him, a rookie who’d just broken into the sport, one misstep could easily become a distraction he couldn’t afford. It wasn’t just her reputation, but his too, and the stakes felt higher than either of them probably realised.

Her: I don’t know, Franco. There’s too much on the line.

A pause, longer than his usual quick responses, and for a moment she thought maybe he’d let it go. Then his reply came through, brief and simple.

Franco: Okay.

She stared at the word, an unexpected pang of disappointment catching her off guard. Franco, usually so persistent, so bold, had accepted her hesitation without a fight. But as much as she wanted to push away her own reservations, she knew she was right. Still, the thought of him backing off now left her feeling… unbalanced.

Setting the phone down, she let out a sigh, glancing over at the flowers resting on her table. A small part of her wondered if maybe, just maybe, she’d made the wrong choice.

Four weeks later, they were back at the track, Austin, the usual energy humming through the paddock as teams and drivers prepared for the weekend ahead. She found herself scanning the garages, a little spark of nerves in her chest that had nothing to do with work. Franco had kept his distance over the past few weeks—well, as much distance as someone like him could manage. He was still his playful, charismatic self with the press, charming everyone in sight, but there was something different. He hadn’t followed up on his dinner invitation, hadn’t tried to push beyond her boundaries. She told herself it was for the best. Still, a small part of her couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d been too cautious.

Just then, she spotted him near the team’s garage, leaning against the wall in his race suit around his hips, deep in conversation with one of his engineers. When he looked up and saw her, his face lit up, a grin breaking across his face as if no time had passed. She felt a little of that old thrill in her chest as he walked over.

“Hola, stranger,” he greeted, hands tucked into his pockets of his team jacket, his voice as warm and casual as ever. “Miss me?”

She rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips. “You were just here four weeks ago, Colapinto. Don’t flatter yourself.”

He chuckled, giving her that familiar, playful look. “Four weeks is a long time, don’t you think?”

She shook her head, feeling a bit of the tension from the past month melt away. Whatever her own doubts, Franco hadn’t let her brush-off change him—he was still here, as charming and persistent as ever. And somehow, that lifted a weight off her shoulders.

“Have you been behaving?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. “Or should I be prepared for more unexpected flower deliveries?”

Franco’s grin grew wider, his eyes flashing with that spark she was growing dangerously used to. “Depends. You miss them?”

She laughed softly, looking down to avoid letting him see her smile. “I’d hardly admit that if I did.”

He leaned in just slightly, his voice lowering. “Good thing I’m a patient man, then. Because I’m not done yet.” There was a softness to his tone, a hint of something genuine beneath his usual confidence, and it made her heart skip a beat.

Despite herself, she found comfort in his persistence, in his way of toeing the line between serious and playful without putting any pressure on her. For all his charm, he hadn’t crossed any lines. He was waiting, leaving the door open if she ever wanted to step through.

As he turned to head back toward his car, he glanced over his shoulder, giving her a wink. “You know where to find me if you change your mind, cariño. I’ll be around.”

And with that, he disappeared into the garage, leaving her standing there with a soft smile, feeling just a little lighter, a little braver.

She found herself glued to the screen as the race unfolded, Franco’s car darting through the pack with all the finesse and raw determination she’d come to recognise in him. Starting from P17, he had a long climb ahead of him, and as the laps ticked down, he kept gaining ground, his timing sharp, his decisions bold. He was relentless, working his way through the grid with an intensity that kept her at the edge of her seat.

By the halfway mark, he was already up to P12, and she could feel the anticipation building among the journalists and crew around her. Franco wasn’t just driving; he was fighting for every single position, taking advantage of each moment with an almost calculated risk. And he was doing it with the confidence that had both frustrated and charmed her from the start.

Then, in the final laps, with a daring overtake on the inside line, he claimed P10. A top ten finish. It was almost too perfect—his words from the last race echoing in her mind as he crossed the line: “If they ask, I’ll do it again.”

The paddock was buzzing with excitement as she made her way toward the media pen, preparing herself for the post-race interview. She tried to tamp down the flutter of nerves, reminding herself that he’d been charming his way through interviews with her for weeks now. But there was something different this time, a spark of pride mingled with her excitement, and she couldn’t wait to see him walk in.

When he finally appeared, the smile on his face was brighter than she’d ever seen. Still in his race suit, a towel on his head, he strode over to her with that familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. She raised her microphone, struggling to keep her voice steady.

“Franco Colapinto,” she began, her own smile betraying just a hint of the thrill she felt. “P10 from P17—congratulations. Tell us, how did you manage such an impressive climb?”

He grinned, leaning casually into the microphone. “Well, you know me. I like a good challenge,” he said, his gaze holding hers for a second longer than necessary. “And I couldn’t let down the one person who told me I had to keep improving.”

The implication wasn’t lost on anyone listening, and she felt a blush rise to her cheeks. She rolled her eyes slightly, playing it off as best she could. “Seems like you’re making a habit of climbing positions to impress,” she replied, keeping her tone light.

Franco’s smile softened, turning almost genuine. “For some things,” he said, his voice low enough that only she could hear, “it’s worth the effort.”

She swallowed, momentarily at a loss for words, but managed to pull herself together, keeping the interview rolling. “Well, you’ve certainly earned that P10. What’s the plan for next time? Any more surprise performances in store?”

“Oh, definitely,” he replied, flashing her a grin. “But let’s say I’ll aim higher than P10 next time. If someone out there is willing to set a new challenge for me, I’ll be ready.” His words hung in the air, a subtle invitation that made her heart skip a beat.

She couldn’t hold back her smile as she wrapped up the interview, his gaze lingering on her with that same unspoken promise. And as she watched him walk away, her heart raced with the thrill of what might come next, realising that maybe—just maybe—she was ready to see where this challenge would lead.

As Franco walked away, she felt the lingering warmth of his gaze, that same thrill coursing through her that she’d tried so hard to brush off. But now, it seemed, she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to. The interview had felt like more than just a casual exchange; his words, his look—there was something real beneath the flirtation, something she found herself wanting to chase.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of post-race coverage and media duties, but her thoughts kept drifting back to him, to the way his eyes had held hers, steady and genuine, as he’d promised to aim even higher. It was only when she caught herself looking around the paddock, almost instinctively, that she realised she was seeking him out. By then, her professional caution had faded, replaced by something far less reasonable but far more enticing.

She knew she was violating so many unspoken rules as she made her way around the paddock, ducking out of the more crowded paths and slipping past the occasional lingering crew member. A pang of guilt buzzed at the back of her mind, but it was no match for the magnetic pull drawing her toward his driver’s room.

She stopped outside the door, exhaling a shaky breath as her pulse raced with a mix of nerves and anticipation. The hallway was quiet, the sounds of the bustling paddock fading away. Before she could second-guess herself, she raised her hand and knocked softly.

The door opened, and there he was, in a grey tracksuit and plain black top, his expression shifting from surprise to that warm, familiar smile that had always managed to disarm her.

“Well,” he said, leaning against the doorframe, his voice dropping to a low murmur, “I didn’t expect my motivation to show up in person.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was no hiding her smile. “I figured I’d come to make sure you’re planning to keep your word. That climb to P10 wasn’t exactly a small feat.”

His smile softened, and he stepped aside, wordlessly inviting her in. As the door clicked shut behind them, the noise and pressures of the paddock slipped away, leaving just the two of them. The look he gave her—warm, unguarded, and almost vulnerable—made her heart skip a beat.

She’d broken so many of her own rules just to get here, but in this moment, she couldn’t bring herself to regret a single one.

Taking a moment to look around, she noticed his bags were packed and ready for the triple header and that there was nowhere to sit.

She sat on the edge of his bed, trying to look at ease despite the heat rising in her cheeks. Franco stood in front of her, close enough that her knees brushed his legs. The room felt charged with his presence, the quiet intensity in his gaze making it impossible to look away.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” he murmured, leaning down a bit. The way his dark eyes lingered on her, sweeping over her face and holding her gaze, sent a rush of warmth through her.

She felt a smile tugging at her lips, trying to keep her voice steady. “Figured I’d make sure you’re holding up after all that hard work.”

He chuckled, his voice low, with just a hint of playfulness. “Oh, I’m holding up just fine.” He reached out, fingers brushing a loose strand of hair from her cheek, letting his thumb linger just a moment too long against her skin. “In fact, I think I’m doing better than fine.”

Her cheeks flushed even deeper, but she held his gaze, determined not to let him throw her off-balance—at least not completely. “You know,” she said, trying to match his tone, “you don’t have to turn everything into a line, Colapinto.”

Franco tilted his head, a smile playing on his lips. “Only with you, cariño.”

She let out a soft laugh, her heartbeat picking up as he moved closer, until he was standing right between her legs. She felt his fingers trace gently along her jawline, his thumb tilting her chin up so she was looking directly into his eyes.

“Not used to being flirted with, cariño?” he asked softly, his voice smooth and teasing.

She swallowed, feeling her blush deepen as her usual composure slipped. “No… not like this.”

“Shame,” he murmured, his thumb grazing her cheek as his eyes searched hers, warm and intent. His voice softened, and the playfulness gave way to something more genuine. “Because I’m just getting started.”

She felt her breath hitch, her pulse racing as his words sank in, leaving her both disarmed and impossibly drawn in. And in that moment, she realised that every wall she’d put up around him was slipping away, piece by piece.

For a moment, she couldn’t take her eyes off him, the air between them thick with anticipation. Then, she noticed the small silver chain dangling from his neck, glinting faintly against the fabric of his black top, and without thinking, she reached up, wrapping her fingers around it gently.

Franco’s gaze flickered in surprise, his breath catching as she tugged on the chain, pulling him just close enough that their faces were inches apart. She could feel the warmth radiating from him, and the intensity of his gaze sent a thrill through her that made her heart pound. His hands settled on either side of her hips as he leaned in, their breaths mingling in the charged silence.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she closed the space between them, pressing her lips to his. The kiss was tentative at first, soft and exploratory, but the warmth in his response was immediate. His hand slid up her back, pulling her closer, and she felt his fingers tangling in her hair as he deepened the kiss, his touch gentle yet confident.

She didn’t realise how tightly she was gripping his chain until she felt his hand cover hers, his thumb tracing lightly over her knuckles as if to say, I’m here.

When they finally parted, both of them slightly breathless, Franco looked at her, hand caressing her cheek, his smile soft and real, devoid of his usual playfulness. He looked at her with a quiet intensity that made her stomach flip.

“You know," he started, his voice dipping into that smooth, charming tone, “I thought I never had a chance with you. You made me work for every single look, every smile…” He shook his head, his hand still resting against her cheek, his thumb brushing just beneath her jaw. “I was convinced you’d never actually let me get this close.”

She felt a warm, amused smile tugging at her lips as she listened to him, his words genuine but tinged with that familiar, playful charm. Watching him, her heart surged with an undeniable impulse, one she didn’t want to ignore any longer. In one fluid motion, she slid her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down, pressing her lips to his again with a fierce, unrestrained intensity that sent sparks through her.

Franco’s surprise melted instantly, his hands slipping from her cheek to either side of her hips, matching her passion. The kiss deepened, turning slower, almost reverent, as if neither of them wanted the moment to end. She could feel his pulse racing under her hands, his warmth overwhelming in the most exhilarating way.

Without breaking the kiss, she leaned back, drawing him down with her onto the bed. She felt his weight settle gently over her, his hands bracing on either side of her as he kissed her with a hunger that felt both new and inevitable. When he finally pulled back just slightly, his lips hovering over hers, his voice was breathless, a bit dazed.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he murmured, his fingers tracing down her arm as he held her gaze, a vulnerable softness there she hadn’t seen before.

“Good,” she whispered back, her own voice unsteady, feeling as though her walls were completely gone now. “Because I don’t plan on making it easy for you.”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he leaned down, his mouth finding hers again with an eagerness that left them both completely lost in each other, as if the rest of the world had faded away.

Maybe he was worth the wait.

the end.

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jambalaya-enthusiast · 1 month ago

Note

hiii!! may i request for headcanons/ an imagine about the crew with a bubbly and cute crew member who playfully; innocently flirts with them? (preferably someone younger than the crew as well, but not minor 😀. say early 20s?) the crew member really is a solid team player and person, but they also just wanna see if they could get the other crew members flustered (and see if they have a chance with them 👀). hope this makes sense! thank you so much! ^^

Flustered;

Crew Members x A young! And incredibly flirty! Reader. [ Reader is not a minor just younger than the crew members]

warnings: slightly suggestive.

Captain Curly

God help this man. He is just trying to keep everyone on the ship happy and secure and was definitely not up for the challenge he was now facing.

A young intern probably like half his age is constantly on the prowl to catch this guy off guard.

He liked you very much already,due to how much of a breath of fresh air you were on that ship,always taking care of stuff. But this? Oh boy.

He's had a fair share of people try and flirt with him,to try and get into his pants,but with you? It's different,very different.

He just couldn't pin point as to what it was about you,the way your words would roll off your tongue like butter.

The way your voice was so sultry and raspy...or was it the way you looked at him that would make his blood run hot.

He was trying, trying so hard to control himself, he's the captain after all.

But lord knows,a man can only control his nerves so much.

Co-Pilot Jimmy

what. the. fuck. ?

no seriously,what the actual fuck? he had no clue in the fucking world as to why someone as fucking drop-dead gorgeous as you was hitting on HIM of all people?

It didn't help how you were like SO YOUNG compared to him.

He thought you were probably joking around,teasing him. To make him feel like shit. And he started to almost resent you for it.

But by god- can someone seriously be THIS PERSISTENT with a joke???

He was on fucking edge all the time,because he simply, couldn't think straight whenever you would hit on him.

A part of him just wanted to snap and makeout with you in an instant,but he was just holding it together,for the sake of who knows what.

But patience always runs out, doesn't it?

Nurse, Anya

This poor,poor girl.

She already was stressed due to how things were going on.

she couldn't handle a young intern, who also happened to be a bit too, attractive was hitting on her.

she got so flustered that you had to apologise on several occasions.

She admired how you were so efficient at your job,always making sure to get things done.

But she always stuttered whenever you would pull those one liners on her.

The nurse was falling,and she was falling hard.

Mechanic, Swansea

he isn't paid enough to deal with this shit.

sure,he appreciated how useful and competent you were compared to his other intern.

But was the price of your competency...uhh this?

Flirting with a guy who's old enough to be your dad?

He would just shrug all of your advances off,just shooing you away whenever you tried to pull any crap.

but he's also..just a guy,lord help him wanting to indulge in some good ol' flirting.

The old man is trying his best,he is.

Mechanic Intern, Daisuke

Is this his lucky day? Another intern,just a little younger than him,was hitting on him?

HE WAS ON ANOTHER PLANET. ( No pun intended )

He would get incredibly shy and flustered tho, he's not used to this.

It doesn't help just how pretty you are. He's not even used to talking to pretty people.

He was just trying to pull his big boy pants up and face you like a true man.

But he would always just melt away at your words.

He wants to ask you out so badddd but he's scared that you're just casually flirting with him.

Seems like you're gonna have to make the first move.

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grapejuicenharry · 2 months ago

Text

Angel

Harry and Y/N are best friends— except they have feelings for each other (4k words)

warnings : smut 18+, fluff, kissing, grinding, jealous h

read part 2 of angel here

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆ . ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶. ⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶ ⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶

Harry really liked—no, loved—Y/N, but he would never admit it to her. She was his best friend, and he couldn’t imagine a day without her. She was like sunshine in his life, someone he could always rely on.

“Harry, my feet hurt,” Y/N whined beside him, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glassy from one too many drinks. They were walking back from a party thrown by one of Harry’s friends, Alex. It was his birthday, and even though Harry and Y/N hadn’t planned to attend, today had been their last exam of the semester. That called for celebratory drinks after all the hard work they’d put in. Sleepless, stressful nights spent preparing for exams, completing assignments, and submitting papers—it had all been overwhelming, and tonight felt like the ideal way to finally blow off some steam.

“Didn’t I warn you about those heels?” he asked, amusement lacing his voice as he raised an eyebrow. He knew those heels always gave her trouble and told her to wear something more comfortable, but Y/N, being Y/N, never listened.

“Yeah, but they make me look sexy, and I wanted to be tall enough to at least reach your neck,” she replied absentmindedly.

“Well, guess that means I’m carrying you the rest of the way,” Harry said, and before she could protest, he hoisted her up onto his shoulders.

“Harry, my dress is too short! I’m going to flash everyone,” Y/N laughed, though there was no real concern in her voice.

Harry chuckled, placing his hand carefully to keep her covered. Besides, the streets were almost empty at 2 a.m., and there was hardly anyone around to notice.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Y/N met Harry on the first day of college. She was nervous and eager to make friends. Hurrying to her seat, she noticed Harry sitting next to her. The first thing she saw was his mop of curly hair, and she thought he was incredibly cute. He looked so innocent and nerdy in his black-rimmed glasses. He was just too adorable.

He wore a white T-shirt that highlighted his bulging biceps, with tattoos peeking through. Suddenly, Y/N found herself wanting to see every tattoo that adorned his beautiful body. She was so curious and lost in her thoughts about him that she didn’t realize Harry was, in fact, looking at her.

Harry thought he was dreaming as he looked at Y/N. She seemed like an angel, a beautiful one at that. She wore a cute white hoodie adorned with pink bows, and her curly hair framed her lovely face perfectly. What captivated him the most were her eyes; they were alluring, radiant, and a luminous shade of dark brown. Next were her luscious pink lips, so full and plump that he suddenly wanted to kiss them and taste them. He wondered if they tasted like berries or cherries, secretly hoping they tasted like cherries, his favorite fruit.

“Do you have an extra pen?” Y/N asked in a hushed voice. “I forgot to bring my pouch,” she added with a little pout.

“Y-yeah, yeah,” Harry replied, fixing his glasses, clearing his throat, and answering in a hoarse voice. He couldn’t believe she was actually talking to him.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Later that day, they sat together at lunch, talking as if hours had passed. Y/N was so grateful to have found someone as kind as Harry, who listened to every word she said with such intent. They chatted about random topics, like their favorite TV shows and ice cream flavors. When Harry revealed that his favorite flavor was mint chocolate chip, Y/N made a weird face.

“Shut up—no, don’t you dare say it!” Harry exclaimed, amused.

“But it tastes like toothpaste!” Y/N whined playfully.

“No, it does not!” Harry shot back. Y/N made a mental note to convince Harry to try every other flavor until he grew to hate mint chocolate chip.

They soon became inseparable—best friends. Harry didn’t realize just how much he had started to like Y/N until it was almost too late. He thought frequently about confessing his true feelings, but there never seemed to be the right moment. He cherished the friendship they had, and the thought of losing her terrified him to his core. So he kept those feelings hidden, bottled up, and accepted her as his best friend.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Harry set Y/N down on the couch when they reached her apartment. He kneeled down to take off her heels. “Ouch, slowly please,” YN whined.

“I am never letting you wear these stupid shoes again. Your feet are all red and swollen,” Harry countered, looking genuinely concerned. He hated seeing Y/N in pain. He wanted to protect her from everything and keep her safe in his cocoon—just him and Y/N.

He then carefully carried a sleepy Y/N to her bedroom and started looking for a comfortable shirt for her to wear. After finding a suitable shirt, he went to the bathroom to grab her makeup wipes and returned to find half-asleep Y/N lying on the bed. “Sweetheart, this will only take two minutes, I promise.” He began wiping her face gently.

After getting Y/N all ready for bed, Harry changed his own clothes. Y/N had “borrowed” too many of his shirts, but honestly, he never minded it. In fact, he secretly liked when Y/N wore his clothes. She looked breathtaking in his oversized shirt paired with her tiny shorts, which made Harry lose his mind.

“Come to bed and cuddle me; I need to sleep,” Y/N grumbled, rubbing her tired eyes.

“Coming, sweetheart, just two minutes,” Harry replied with a smile. He knew how grumpy Y/N got when she was sleepy. He quickly climbed into bed, set his glasses on the side table, and pulled her to his side. Cuddled next to him, Harry didn’t mind being the big spoon. He loved having Y/N molded to his side—the sweet scent of her hair, which smelled like strawberries on a sunny day, and the soft skin that felt like vanilla sundae. He adored every inch of her. Whenever he was with her, he felt like he was on cloud nine. Everything around him was rainbows and sunshine; she made everything look like it was through rose-tinted glasses.

But Harry also loved being the little spoon. There were days when he just wanted to be held, and honestly, Y/N loved having him like that—clingy, needy, like a cute little puppy.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

One day, Harry arrived at Y/N’s apartment looking extremely worn out. Y/N was lying on the bed, comfortably engrossed in her favorite novel. She grew concerned upon seeing Harry.

“I am so exhausted, and my head hurts,” Harry exclaimed, throwing his bag on the floor. “I had to sit in Professor Martin’s class for two hours, plus I had a psychology presentation today,” he stated tiredly while rubbing his drowsy eyes behind his frames.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry you had such a long day, baby. Come on, lie down, and I’ll massage your head,” Y/N replied, removing the blanket from her lap. Harry immediately climbed onto the bed and dropped his head in Y/N’s lap. She carefully removed his glasses and placed them on the side table before starting to massage his head.

She threaded her fingers in his curls, scratching his head lightly, rubbing, and applying just the right amount of pressure. Harry let out a soft moan as he could already feel the tension melting away, his body instinctively relaxing further into her lap.

“Feels amazing,” he murmured, his voice slightly muffled against her legs.

As her skilled fingers glided over his scalp, working their magic and easing the stress that had built up after a long week.

Y/N smiled, enjoying the way he melted under her touch. She varied her movements, alternating between gentle rubs and firmer pressure, focusing on the areas where he seemed to carry the most stress. Her fingers danced through his hair, and she leaned forward slightly to whisper, “You deserve this. Just relax.”

After what seemed like hours of massaging, Y/N realized Harry had fallen soundly asleep on her lap. His face looked peaceful, with his eyes closed and soft snores slipping through his pretty pouty lips. He looked so adorable, and Y/N couldn’t help but wish she could freeze time to savor this moment longer.

Knowing Harry would probably complain about his back in the morning, she gently shifted him, lifting his head from her lap and placing it on a pillow. His brows furrowed slightly, so she soothingly rubbed his forehead, trying to smooth away any lingering tension. Half asleep, Harry instinctively moved closer, wrapping his arms around Y/N’s waist and nuzzling his face against her boobs. His personal pillow: He always has the best sleep whenever she holds him. Y/N smiled down at him. His curls tickled her jaw, and she couldn't resist leaning down to plant a soft kiss on his head.

“Goodnight, sleepyhead,” Y/N whispered, smiling at Harry, who had already drifted back into a peaceful slumber.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Harry was never the jealous type—at least, not until Y/N came into his life. but right now he cant help but a bitter sensation rises up his throat when he sees yn with Jacob. A total douchebag who flirts with every girl in the college, Standing next to Y/N, too closely according to harry. Harry had come to find Y/N so they could grab tacos at their favorite spot, but instead, he’s witnessing this. Does Y/N like him? Does she have a crush on him that he doesn’t know about? What if Y/N is interested in him and wants to end her friendship with Harry? Will she forget about him? All these questions overwhelm Harry’s mind at the sight. No, no—Y/N was only his. His best friend, his angel, his sweetheart. She would never do something like this. His chest suddenly started burning at such thoughts.

Jacob says something which makes Y/N burst into laughter. His chest tightens at the sight. He wants to be the only person to make yn laugh like that. He curses inwardly that jacob gets to experience the sweet melody of her laughter, her laugh that can instantly brighten up the room with warmth and sunshine. He thinks to himself, Does Jacob know her eyes crinkle whenever she laughs? or how the mole under her right eye disappears when she laughs because of the fullness of her cheeks?

“Oi, whatchu looking at?” Y/N snapped her fingers in front of Harry’s face. He hadn’t realized she had come over and was talking to him. “You look like you could kill someone,” she teased, giggling as she spoke to him.

“Was that Jacob talking to you?” Harry asked, trying to sound casual even though he was fuming inside. “Yeah, he wanted my chemistry notes because apparently he spilled coffee on his,” Y/N replied, wrapping her arm around Harry's as they walked together.

“Did you give them to him?” Harry asked, mentally cursing Jacob and hoping she hadn’t.

“No, obviously I know he just wanted an excuse to hit on me. I’m not dumb,” Y/N exclaimed, rolling her eyes. “Besides, you know I don’t like sharing my notes with anyone except for you, because you know how to take care of them.” She chided and planted a kiss on Harry’s cheek. His face instantly heated.

“Good,” Harry whispered quietly, fixing his glasses, looking at the ground, too embarrassed to hide the blush of his cheek and unable to suppress a smile at the thought of Y/N rejecting that jerk.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Harry loves when Y/N gets touchy like this with him. When randomly she hugs him, kisses him on his cheek, forehead, or settles on his lap while watching a movie. Her spontaneous kisses leave a soft tingle on his skin, and he can’t help but smile every time she curls up in his lap. It’s in these moments he feels closest to her, as if every touch and every kiss is a silent confession of how much she means to him. His arm instinctively wraps around her waist, pulling her in a little tighter, enjoying the way she fits perfectly against him. The movie on the screen fades into the background; all he can focus on is the warmth of her body and the way she makes him feel—like he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be. It all feels so natural. And they never have those awkward moments because they both love these touches. Whenever yn touches him, he feels electricity buzzing through him, in a good way. His skin feels like jello and his heart is thumping loudly, His brain is all muddled with goo and sparkles.

He wants to treasure those moments forever and constantly wishes for more and more.

It was one of those rare evenings for Harry and Y/N, Where the world seemed to quiet down just for them. They had just finished with their midterms and needed this for the longest time. Dim yellow lights, a bottle of red wine sitting on the table, a soft record player playing in the background. Legs tangled under the blanket as Harry and Y/N sat closer to each other, just enjoying each other’s presence. The warmth of Yn’s body pressed against him felt like home.

Harry’s fingers absentmindedly played with a strand of Y/N’s hair, twirling it between his fingertips. His eyes traced over her face, taking in every detail — the curve of her lips, the soft rise and fall of her chest.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” Harry whispered, his voice low and soft, his breath tickling her ear.

Y/N turned her head slightly, meeting his gaze with a soft smile and cheeks already flushed because of wine, changed into a deeper shade of red at his words. “You always say that.” Slurred her words lightly.

“Because it’s true,” he murmured, leaning in closer, their faces just inches apart. His fingers gently tugging at her bottom lip, eyes flickering to her mouth. “And I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of telling you that.”

For a moment, neither of them moved, the air between them thick with unspoken words and emotions. Y/N felt her heart race as Harry’s eyes locked onto hers, filled with something deeper than just affection.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Y/N tilted her head, her lips brushing against Harry’s in the softest kiss, testing the waters. It was brief- just a featherlight kiss- but enough to send a shockwave through him. Harry let out a quiet sigh, his hand moving to cup her face as he deepened the kiss, slow and tender. As he leaned in closer, Y/N gently pushed his glasses up onto his forehead, making it easier for them to get lost in each other. Suddenly, he realized what he had done.

Harry pulled back immediately, his eyes wide with surprise at his own action.

“Sorry,” he blurted out, his voice panicked. “I don’t know why I did that.”

Y/N blinked, her cheeks flushing, but there was no trace of anger or discomfort on her face. Instead, she smiled softly, a warmth blooming in her chest at his sudden vulnerability. “No, Harry… It’s okay.”

Harry’s brow furrowed. “Are you sure? I didn’t mean—”

“Harry,” Y/N interrupted gently, her voice barely a whisper as she moved closer, her hand resting on his cheek. “It’s okay, I want this, I promise.”

Harry couldn’t quite grasp what was happening—it all felt too surreal, like something straight out of his dreams. Yet, here it was, playing out in real time. In the blink of an eye, Y/N tossed the blanket aside and straddled his lap. Her hands slid up his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through his shirt as she pressed closer to him, wanting to be as near as possible. Her fingers trailed up his chest, feeling the heat radiating through his shirt, before cradling his face. Without hesitation, she pulled him into a deep kiss.

Harry was still trying to make sense of it all, but instinctively, his hands found their place—one tangling in her hair, the other resting gently on her neck.

The kiss was slow, tender, and filled with all the emotions that had been simmering under the surface for so long. His lips were soft, and she could taste the faint hint of wine on them. Their lips molded perfectly, like it was meant to be. Time seemed to blur. It must have been five minutes, or five hours; neither of them knew. It was a heated blend of tongue, teeth, and lips.

Y/N’s hand reached for the hem of his shirt, lifting it. Harry pulled back, catching his breath, resting his forehead against hers. His heart pounded, blood rushing south; he was so hard, making him ache beneath her.

“Can I take off your top, baby?” He whispered, his breath warm against her jaw as he kissed and nipped at it.

“Yes, yes, please,” she murmured, and that was all the permission Harry needed. He swiftly pulled off her shirt—his shirt—and eagerly ran his hands over her smooth, soft skin.

“So soft, your skin is so soft,” he murmured, his hands working behind her, unclasping her bra.

Her tits were a piece of art—Round, so full and perfectly perky. His large hands cup them, gently rolling the nipple between his fingers.

Now she sat only straddling him in her thin, barely there sleeping shorts; she could feel his hard cock beneath her, thick and throbbing, nudging her entrance. Her dampness was seeping through both of their shorts. A delicious remainder, how much she wanted him. He could feel her cunt fluttering around nothing, desperate for him.

Harry had to shut his eyes and take a few steady breaths as his chest rose and fell with anticipation. Slowly, he leaned forward, prepping light kisses along the curve of her breast. Y/N moaned softly, arching her back, giving him more access to her boobs. He latched onto her nipple, sucking lightly, while his free hand teased her other breast, tugging and rolling the sensitive nub. Y/N hips began to move instinctively, grinding against him, writhing on his cock couldn’t help but start grinding, writhing on his lap.

"Feels good," she murmured, eyes closed as she gently took his glasses from his head and placed them on the couch next to them, her fingers threaded through his messy curls. His cock twitched beneath her, nudging her clit, and she could feel her body growing even wetter, soaking through the fabric that separated them. Harry kept switching between her breasts, his mouth worshipping each one as he sucked harder, sending jolts of pleasure through her core.

Making her more drenched

“Just like that, ride me Y/N” Harry growled, his voice low and demanding. His hands slid from her breast to her waist, guiding her movements. Making her move forward and backward, her clothed, dripping core dragged across his cock, making them both shiver with need. His tattoos peeked through as he finally tugged his shirt off, revealing his inked chest - abs flexing under the butterfly, the black ink stark against his flushed, heated skin.

Y/N's fingers trailed down, dragging her nails across his chest, loving the way his tattoos twisted beneath her touch. She leaned down, biting his neck, sucking hard enough to leave a bruise. Harry groaned, loving the possessiveness of it—her mark on him. He was hers.

“You’re doing so good, Angel” he murmured, nipping her ear. Harry was a complete mess beneath her. His eyes glossy, pupils blown away with lust, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, lips slick and swollen from their kisses. He looks so sexy, Y/N leaned forward, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth, swallowing each other’s moans while increasing her pace.

He could not believe Y/N was on top of him, grinding against his cock, her sweet little moans filling the air. He was sure he’d reached heaven. He glanced down between them, seeing the wet patch her arousal had left on his shorts, mixed with his own pre cum.

As Y/N ground herself against him, her clit dragged over the thick length of his cock, and each upward motion had his tip grazing her entrance. The feeling made them both shiver. Her blunt nails dug into his shoulders as her eyes squeezed shut in bliss, her lip caught between her teeth, trying to hold back a whimper.

Harry slid his hand down, rubbing her clit with his thumb in slow, tight circles, giving her that extra bit of pleasure she craved. “I want you to feel good, baby,” he whispered, his fingers working faster, determined to push her over the edge. His angel deserved to feel good.

Y/N threw her head back, overwhelmed by the sensation. “I’m gonna cum,” she whimpered meekly, her voice shaking. Harry quickened his pace, his fingers pressing into her clit with just the right amount of pressure. “Cum for me, baby,” he urged, his voice thick and desperate.

Y/N cries out as her orgasm rips through her, the coil in her belly finally exploding, sending waves of pleasure through her entire body. She felt like she was floating—fireworks and butterflies all at once.

She has never cum so hard in her life. Her fingers never did the job, and vibrators were too boring for her.

Below her, she feels Harry twitching. He buries his face in her neck, biting down a patch of her skin to stifle his own moan as he reached the brink. Both arms wrapped around her waist, his eyes shut, loud and desperate whimpers falling from his lips.

“That’s it, honey,” Y/N cooed, her voice soft and soothing, threading her fingers through his damp curls as she continued to ride him. She could feel him shaking beneath her as his orgasm finally hit, releasing with a loud groan as his body went rigid. His vision blurred, ears ringing, as the bliss overwhelmed him completely. He felt like he was in paradise, his body melting into hers.

For a moment, they just stayed like that—foreheads pressed together, hearts beating in sync, both of them coming down from their highs. Still trying to make sense of what just happened. Harry let out a breathy laugh, looking for his glasses and placing them again on his face. He brushed a strand of hair from her face. “You’re amazing,” he whispered, still catching his breath.

Y/N smiled down at him, her fingers tracing the tattoos on his chest, loving how warm he felt under her touch. “And you’re a mess,” she teased softly, laughing with him. Harry grinned, pulling her closer.

"Yeah, but I’m your mess," he murmured, kissing her softly, the intimacy between them palpable.

They stayed like that, in each other’s arms, exchanging gentle kisses. “I want this with you, Y/N” Harry whispered, “I’m tired of pretending I don’t feel something for you. That I don’t feel this whenever I’m around you.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, her eyes widening as his words hit her. She opened her mouth to respond, but no sound came out.

Harry pressed on, the confession spilling out of him like a flood. “I’ve been holding back because I didn’t want to ruin us. You’re my best friend, Y/N. The most important person in my life, and I was terrified of messing that up. But tonight... it just felt right. It always felt right with you.”

The air hung heavy between them, the weight of his confession pulling her down, making her chest tighten. Y/N swallowed hard, her mind racing. She had always felt something too—always pushed it aside, too afraid of what it would mean for them and for their friendship. But now that it was out there, she couldn’t run from it anymore.

Harry’s eyes softened behind his glasses, his heart racing a mile a minute. He had finally said it—the words he never thought he’d be able to voice, yet they spilled out of him because he couldn’t hold them in any longer. He had to tell Y/N everything.

But he still didn’t know if she felt the same, if she liked—no, loved—him back. And though the thought of her rejecting him terrified him, he was ready for it. His heart would shatter into a million pieces, but he would respect her decision, even if it meant she wanted him out of her life completely. It would hurt—of course, it would—but the idea of staying by her side and making her uncomfortable hurt even more.

He braced himself for her response, never expecting what she would say next.

“I love you, Harry. I think I’ve loved you for a long time... but I was too much of a coward to confess it,” Y/N murmured, her eyes glistening with tears. “All this time, I didn’t want to lose you, so I just... ignored it. But tonight? It meant everything. I want this with you too.”

She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around him, resting her head on his chest. She could hear his heart pounding beneath her ear.

“I always thought you had a thing for Emma from our sociology class,” Y/N added with a teary giggle, realizing how silly it sounded now.

Harry’s brows furrowed in confusion. Emma? He had never thought of her as more than a classmate. His friends had mentioned once or twice that Emma might have a crush on him, but he’d never taken it seriously. His focus had always been on Y/N.

Before he could explain, Y/N cut him off. “But now I get it—you don’t like her. It was probably just my insecurities talking,” she said softly, her eyes dropping to her lap as she fidgeted with her fingers, a nervous habit of hers.

“Baby, Y/N, look at me,” Harry gently commanded. “I had no idea you were worrying about all of this. Emma? I’ve probably spoken to her five times at most, and I don’t like her that way at all. You have nothing to be insecure about.” He cupped her jaw tenderly, his thumb brushing her cheek. “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, my angel. The only girl I love and care about.”

Harry's thumb continued to stroke Y/N's cheek gently, his eyes soft and unwavering as he held her gaze. “You’re everything to me, Y/N. I’ve never even thought about anyone else the way I think about you. It’s always been you.”

Her breath hitched at his words, the insecurity that had weighed her down for so long now starting to lift. She opened her mouth to say something, but Harry wasn’t finished. His other hand slid down to cradle her waist, pulling her more closer if that was possible. They were basically molded together.

“I love the way you say my name; I love how you play with my rings whenever you get nervous; I love the way you get excited over little things; I love the way you get grumpy whenever you are hungry; I love the way you look at me when you think I am not paying attention. And I love you; don’t ever want you to doubt that, okay?”

Y/N felt warmth flood her chest as his words washed over her. She’d spent so long overthinking everything, never realizing that Harry had been feeling the same all along.

She blinked back the last of her tears, smiling up at him. “I don’t know why I thought otherwise,” she whispered, her voice shaky but full of emotion.

Harry pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering there. “Because you care so much,” he murmured against her skin. “And that’s one of the things I love about you.”

Y/N leaned into his embrace, feeling safe and cherished in his arms. the tension in her body melting away.

Harry resting his chin on the top of her head. “But now, no more hiding, yeah? No more overthinking or doubting. It’s just us now. I’m yours, and I’ve always been.”

Y/N tilted her head back to look at him, her smile widening as her fingers laced through his. “Just us,” she repeated softly.

Harry’s heart swelled as he brought her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles softly. “Just us,” he echoed, his voice a gentle promise.

1K notes · View notes

pucksandpower · 3 months ago

Text

Perfect Fit

Day 5 → Size Difference 💋 Oscar Piastri

Warnings: 18+ content

Kinktober Masterlist

“You sure she doesn’t snap in half when you’re together?” Lando’s voice rings out over the steady hum of the paddock, casual, like he’s asking about the weather.

Oscar’s head jerks up, his eyebrows knitting together. “What?”

“You know …” Lando gestures vaguely with his hand, as if the meaning will somehow fill the air between them. “You and her. She’s, like, tiny. Can’t imagine it’s easy for you.”

Oscar frowns, confused for a second before the meaning of Lando’s words sinks in. Lando is grinning like he’s delivered the world’s best punchline, but something twists in Oscar’s chest. The words linger. Too long.

“Mate, seriously?” Oscar scoffs, trying to laugh it off, but there’s an odd tension in his voice. “That’s what you’re thinking about?”

Lando shrugs, all casual, like he hasn’t just dropped a grenade between them. “Just making conversation. Didn’t mean anything by it.”

Oscar doesn’t respond, choosing instead to shove Lando lightly in the shoulder, pushing past him. His heart beats a little too fast, and he finds himself suddenly hyper-aware of the weight of Lando’s comment.

He tries to shake it off, but the thought is like an itch at the back of his mind, one he can’t quite reach to scratch. Size. How could he have never noticed it before? Of course, he knew you were smaller — he had to lean down to kiss you, had to watch his step to not bowl you over in tight spaces. But he’d never really thought about it. Not like that.

Now, though … now he can’t seem to stop thinking about it.

Later that evening, he’s at your apartment. You’re sitting cross-legged on the couch, flipping through some magazine, while he stands in the kitchen, mindlessly sipping from a water bottle. His eyes keep drifting over to you, studying the way you’re curled up. Small, Lando’s words repeat in his head. So much smaller.

You glance up and catch him staring. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says quickly, too quickly. You squint, unconvinced.

“Oscar,” you say, drawing out his name like you’re prying for a confession. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he repeats, but the tension in his shoulders betrays him.

You set the magazine down, leaning back against the cushions. “You’re staring at me like I’ve grown a second head or something.”

Oscar clears his throat, still not moving from his spot by the counter. “It’s not — I mean, Lando said something stupid earlier.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Lando always says stupid things.”

He chuckles, but the sound is half-hearted. “Yeah, but this was, like, extra stupid.”

“What’d he say?”

Oscar hesitates, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s dumb, really.”

“Now you have to tell me,” you say, tilting your head, that teasing smile starting to curl at your lips. You always get that look when you know he’s holding something back, and he knows you won’t let it go until he spills.

He sighs, finally pushing away from the counter and walking over to sit beside you on the couch. “It’s just … he made some joke about, uh … about our size difference.”

Your brows furrow. “What about it?”

Oscar pauses, trying to find the right words. “He basically said … I don’t know. That it must be … hard. You know, because you’re, uh, smaller than me.”

Your lips press together, a faint blush creeping up your neck as the meaning hits. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Oscar lets out a breath, rubbing his palms over his jeans. “I didn’t think much of it at first, but now I can’t stop … noticing it.”

There’s a beat of silence between you, the kind that feels heavier than usual.

You swallow, shifting a little on the couch to face him. “Is it weird for you?” You ask quietly. “Our size difference?”

Oscar’s head snaps up, eyes wide. “No — no, it’s not weird. It’s not like that. I’ve just … I never really thought about it before. And now it’s in my head.”

“So it’s in your head that I’m small?” You ask, a teasing edge to your voice, though there’s a hint of nervousness underneath it.

He laughs softly. “It’s not just that you’re small. It’s … everything. Like, I never thought about how I have to be careful with you. When I hold you, or when we’re … close.”

You tilt your head, curious. “You don’t think about it when we’re close?”

“I mean, I think about it,” he admits, his voice dropping. “But not in a bad way. I just-” He falters, searching for the right words. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Your heart skips a beat at his honesty, the vulnerability that’s starting to seep through the cracks. You reach out, placing a hand on his knee. “You wouldn’t hurt me, Oscar.”

“I know that,” he says, his voice softer now, almost a whisper. “But I guess … sometimes I just worry that I might. Without meaning to.”

The air feels thick between you, charged with something unsaid. You chew on your bottom lip, considering his words, the way he’s looking at you now — like he’s seeing you in a new light, or maybe just realizing something that’s been there all along.

“I don’t mind that we’re different sizes,” you say quietly, and your voice is sincere, even if there’s an underlying nervousness. “I actually … I like it.”

Oscar’s eyes flicker with surprise. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nod, your hand still resting on his knee. “I like that you’re taller, and that you can hold me, and that I feel … safe with you.”

Something shifts in Oscar’s expression. It’s subtle, but you see the way his shoulders relax, the tension that’s been building all evening starting to fade away. He reaches out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You feel safe with me?”

“Of course I do,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper now. “You’re … I don’t know. You’re so careful with me. I can feel it when we’re together.”

Oscar’s hand lingers by your face, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. “I just … I don’t want to screw this up,” he admits, his voice raw. “I care about you too much to mess this up.”

You feel your breath hitch in your throat. “You’re not messing anything up, Oscar. You’re being … you.”

He leans in closer, his forehead almost resting against yours. “I don’t want to be weird about this,” he says softly. “But after Lando’s stupid comment, it’s like … it’s stuck in my head. And now I’m overthinking everything.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “You’re overthinking it because Lando’s an idiot.”

Oscar laughs too, the sound breaking the tension a little. “Yeah, he really is.”

You shift a little closer to him, your knees brushing against his. “You don’t need to worry about our size difference,” you say gently. “I don’t.”

He nods, though there’s still a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. “It’s just … I’ve never been with someone who’s, like … so much smaller than me. I don’t want to … I don’t know, hurt you.”

“You won’t,” you assure him, your voice steady. “I trust you, Oscar. I wouldn’t be with you if I didn’t.”

Oscar’s eyes search yours, as if he’s trying to find some reassurance in your words, something to silence the doubts that Lando’s careless joke planted in his mind. Slowly, he leans in, pressing his lips to yours, and for a moment, everything else fades away — the worries, the overthinking, the stupid comments.

It’s just the two of you, and in that kiss, there’s no size difference, no hesitation. Just you and him, connected in a way that feels effortless.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and you can feel his breath, warm and steady. “You’re sure?” He whispers, his voice laced with vulnerability.

You smile, your hand finding his. “I’ve never been more sure.”

Oscar lets out a breath, his lips curling into a soft smile. “Okay,” he murmurs. “Okay.”

The tension between you melts away, replaced by a quiet understanding, a mutual trust that wasn’t spoken but was felt in every word, every touch. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer, as if to prove to himself that he can hold you without worry.

And for the first time since Lando’s stupid joke, Oscar doesn’t think about the size difference. He just thinks about you, and how perfectly you fit in his arms.

***

As you and Oscar walk through the doors of your hotel suite, the adrenaline from the day still buzzes between you both. The aftermath of the Hungarian Grand Prix win feels almost surreal, hanging in the air between his excited glances and your proud smiles.

Oscar drops his race gear bag on the floor, exhaling loudly as he runs a hand through his messy hair. “God, I still can’t believe it. I actually won.”

You grin, closing the door behind you. “I told you, didn’t I? You’ve been ready for this. You’ve always been ready.”

He turns toward you, his face lighting up in a way that makes your heart skip. He looks different tonight — his usual quiet confidence magnified by the thrill of victory. There’s a hunger in his gaze, something deeper than just excitement for the race.

“It feels … different now,” he admits, stepping closer. “Like, I knew I could win, but doing it? Crossing that line first? Hearing the crowd?” He trails off, his eyes locking on yours, and for a moment, everything else in the world disappears.

You step closer, resting your hand on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. “You were incredible out there.”

Oscar’s hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin. His voice drops lower, more intimate. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. After the race, I just wanted to get back here. With you.”

You bite your lip, the tension between you sparking to life. There’s something in the air tonight, something that feels inevitable. The closeness, the energy — it’s all leading somewhere.

Oscar’s lips hover just above yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I need you,” he whispers, the rawness of his voice sending shivers down your spine.

Your response is immediate, instinctual. “Then take me.”

His mouth crashes against yours, urgent and heated, and suddenly, all the restraint he’s ever shown around you evaporates. His hands are everywhere — on your waist, in your hair, pulling you closer as if he can’t stand the space between you. You’re breathless as he backs you up toward the bed, his kisses growing more fervent, more desperate.

When the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, Oscar pulls away just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with something deeper than you’ve seen before. “Are you sure?” He asks, his voice thick with both desire and hesitation. “I don’t want to rush this.”

You’re already reaching for the hem of his shirt, tugging it over his head in one swift motion. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

The sight of his bare chest, muscles taut and glistening under the dim hotel lights, makes your stomach flip. You’ve seen him shirtless before, but tonight it feels different. He’s yours tonight.

Oscar stares at you for a moment, his eyes raking over your body as if trying to memorize every inch of you. “God, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his fingers grazing over your hips, lifting your shirt just enough to slide his hands underneath.

You shiver at the contact, leaning into him as he slowly works your shirt up and over your head, tossing it aside. His hands linger on your skin, tracing patterns that leave your skin tingling.

As his fingers move to unbutton your jeans, Oscar hesitates for a second. “I don’t want to … hurt you,” he says softly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt.

You shake your head, reaching up to cradle his face in your hands. “You won’t. I trust you.”

That seems to be all the encouragement he needs. Oscar quickly strips you of your jeans, his hands trailing up and down your thighs, his gaze fixed on you like you’re the most important thing in the world. And then, for a moment, he pauses.

His eyes drop lower, and when he sees you in nothing but your underwear, something primal flashes across his face. You can see the shift in him — the boyish uncertainty replaced by something darker, more insistent.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, almost to himself. His hands tremble slightly as he runs them over your hips, then slowly slides your panties down your legs. The sight of you bare, exposed for him, seems to steal his breath.

You reach out, your fingers brushing over the waistband of his jeans. “Your turn,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

Oscar quickly complies, undoing his belt and pushing his jeans down. But when he finally kicks them off, and his boxers follow, you feel your breath catch in your throat. He’s … big. Much bigger than you expected. The sight of him has your heart racing, a mix of nerves and excitement flooding through you.

His size suddenly makes Lando’s stupid joke replay in your head, but instead of fear, you feel a strange sense of anticipation building inside you. The sight of him, hard and ready, only makes you want him more.

But Oscar hesitates, his eyes darting between you and himself, concern flickering in his expression. “I-I don’t want to hurt you,” he says again, his voice more serious now. “You’re so … small.”

Your lips part, a flush creeping up your neck. You swallow hard, trying to keep your composure, but the truth slips out before you can stop it. “I can take it,” you whisper, your voice shaking with need. “I want it.”

Oscar’s eyes widen, and for a moment, he seems at a loss for words. His hands shake slightly as they slide up your thighs, his fingers brushing over the sensitive skin between your legs. He takes his time, his touch slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring every second.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he says softly, his eyes locked on yours as he eases a finger inside you. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, your body tensing for a moment before you relax into his touch. “Are you okay?”

You nod quickly, your breaths coming in short, shallow bursts. “I’m okay,” you manage to say, your voice breathless. “Please, Oscar. Don’t stop.”

He doesn’t. He adds another finger, his movements slow and steady as he works you open, his thumb circling your clit with just enough pressure to make you writhe beneath him. Your body arches off the bed, your hands gripping the sheets as you try to hold on to the edge of your sanity.

“You’re so tight,” he murmurs, almost to himself, his brows furrowing in concentration. “I need to make sure you’re ready.”

“I’m ready,” you breathe, though your voice is shaky with both nerves and desire.

Oscar leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as he continues to stretch you with his fingers. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he repeats, his voice a mix of concern and restraint.

You bite your lip, your body trembling with anticipation. “I know. But I want you, Oscar. I want all of you.”

His jaw clenches, and for a moment, he pauses, as if weighing the gravity of what’s about to happen. But then he nods, his eyes locking on yours as he finally positions himself between your legs. His hands grip your hips, his touch firm but gentle.

“Are you sure?” He asks one last time, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” you breathe, your heart pounding in your chest. “Please.”

Oscar takes a deep breath, and then, slowly — agonizingly slowly — he begins to push inside you. The stretch is immediate, and your body tenses as you feel the overwhelming pressure of him filling you. It’s more than you expected — more than you’ve ever felt before. A sharp gasp escapes your lips, and for a moment, you wonder if it’s too much.

Oscar freezes, his eyes wide with concern. “Am I hurting you?”

You shake your head quickly, though your breath is shaky. “It’s just … a lot. But I’m okay. Don’t stop.”

He bites his lip, clearly unsure, but he keeps going, inch by inch, until he’s fully inside you. The sensation is intense — painful at first, but as your body adjusts, the pain quickly morphs into something else. Something deeper. Something euphoric.

Oscar is still, hovering above you, his chest heaving as he struggles to keep himself in check. “God, you’re … you’re so tight,” he whispers, his voice strained. “I can feel … I can see it …”

You look down, and your breath catches in your throat. You can see the outline of him, pressing against your lower stomach, and the sight is enough to send a shiver down your spine.

Oscar’s eyes are glued to the sight as well, his hands gripping your hips tighter. “Holy … I can see myself inside you,” he breathes, his voice thick with awe. “I’m not hurting you?”

You shake your head, your body trembling with a mix of pleasure and disbelief. “No. It feels … it feels incredible.”

He lets out a shaky breath, his eyes darkening as he slowly pulls back, only to push into you again, the movement sending a wave of pleasure through your body. You moan, your hands gripping his shoulders as he begins to move, his thrusts slow and controlled at first, but growing more urgent as the pleasure builds between you.

Oscar’s breath comes in ragged gasps, his eyes never leaving the sight of himself inside you. “You’re so … perfect,” he groans, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t believe you’re real.”

Each thrust sends waves of pleasure through you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. His movements grow more desperate, the tension between you building to an almost unbearable intensity. Your body is on fire, every nerve alight as he fills you completely. You can feel him so deep, every inch of him stretching you in ways you’ve never experienced before.

And then, just as the pressure becomes too much, you tip over the edge.

Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing around him, muscles tightening and pulsing in rhythmic waves. The pleasure is blinding, sharp, your breath hitching as you cry out his name. You’ve never felt anything like it, the intensity of the release leaving you shaking beneath him, your legs trembling as you clutch at his shoulders.

The sudden tightening of your body around him pulls a deep groan from Oscar’s throat, and you feel him lose control. His thrusts falter, becoming erratic as he buries himself inside you one last time. His jaw clenches, his eyes squeezed shut as his own orgasm rips through him. His release is overwhelming — hot and thick, spilling into you with an intensity that leaves you both breathless.

Oscar collapses against you, his forehead resting on your shoulder as he gasps for air. You can feel him still twitching inside you, the last remnants of his orgasm making him shudder against your body. He’s still buried deep, his cock pulsing inside you as he fills you so completely it almost feels unreal.

You’re both silent for a moment, just breathing together, the weight of what just happened settling between you. Then, slowly, Oscar lifts his head, his eyes hazy and dazed as he looks down at you.

“Are you okay?” He whispers, his voice rough, concern flickering in his eyes even as he struggles to catch his breath.

You nod, a breathless laugh escaping your lips. “I’m more than okay.”

His gaze softens, and his hand moves down to your stomach, where you can feel an odd fullness, a strange weight that wasn’t there before. His palm rests over your belly, and when you both look down, you see it — the way your stomach has a slight bulge, rounded out from how much he’s filled you.

Oscar’s eyes widen, his hand pressing down gently as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing. “I … did I do that?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You bite your lip, heat flooding your cheeks as you nod. “I think so.”

A low groan escapes him, his eyes glued to the sight of your swollen belly. “Jesus … that’s … fuck, that’s so hot,” he mutters, almost to himself, his hand rubbing slow, gentle circles over the small bump.

His obsession with it sends a new wave of heat through you. The feeling of being so full, so utterly claimed by him, is intoxicating. You reach down, covering his hand with yours, pressing it harder against your belly. “You like it?” You ask, teasingly, though you already know the answer.

Oscar’s eyes flash up to yours, dark and filled with something primal. “Are you kidding? I’ve never seen anything like this. I can’t … I can’t stop looking at it.”

He keeps rubbing your belly, his fingers tracing over the slight rise, his gaze fixed on the way your body holds all of him. You shiver beneath his touch, the sensation of his hand against your skin sending jolts of pleasure through you. You can feel him starting to soften inside you, but there’s still a delicious fullness that leaves you squirming, your body craving more despite how completely wrecked you feel.

Oscar seems to notice, his eyes narrowing slightly as his hand trails lower, his fingers brushing against your sensitive clit. You gasp, your body jerking in response, and he smiles softly, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you.

“You’re still sensitive,” he murmurs, his thumb circling your bundle of nerves with gentle pressure. “I can feel it.”

You bite your lip, trying to suppress a moan as he continues to tease you, his movements slow and deliberate. “Oscar …” you breathe, your voice trembling. “I don’t think I can …”

But you can. The tension in your body builds again so quickly, it’s almost dizzying. His touch is relentless, his thumb rubbing slow, firm circles that drive you insane. The combination of the fullness in your belly and the stimulation at your core is overwhelming, your body teetering on the edge of another orgasm before you can even process it.

“I can feel how tight you still are,” Oscar whispers, his voice husky as he watches you squirm beneath him. “God, you’re so perfect.”

His words, his touch, the sight of him above you — it’s all too much. Your body arches off the bed, a sharp cry escaping your lips as you fall over the edge again, your second orgasm hitting you harder than the first. The pleasure is intense, bordering on painful as your muscles contract around him, your body shaking with the force of it.

Oscar groans, his hand still rubbing slow circles over your belly as he watches you come undone beneath him. “That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice filled with awe. “You’re so beautiful like this.”

You gasp for air, your body trembling as the waves of pleasure slowly subside, leaving you feeling utterly spent. Oscar finally stops his teasing, his hand still resting on your belly as he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Are you okay?” He asks again, his voice gentle, almost tender.

You nod, a lazy smile spreading across your face. “Yeah … more than okay.”

He chuckles softly, shifting his weight to lie beside you, his arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you close. His hand remains on your belly, though, still fascinated by the slight swell he’s caused.

“I can’t believe you’re mine,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your temple.

You turn to face him, your fingers tracing lazy patterns over his chest. “I’m the lucky one,” you whisper back, your heart swelling with affection for him.

For a while, you both just lie there, wrapped up in each other, the weight of what just happened settling in. There’s no rush, no urgency — just the quiet intimacy of being together after something so intense.

Oscar’s hand continues to rub slow, soothing circles over your belly, and you feel yourself slowly drifting toward sleep, your body completely relaxed and satisfied. Just before you drift off, you hear Oscar’s soft voice in your ear, filled with quiet wonder.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get over how perfectly you fit me.”

And in that moment, you know that nothing has ever felt more right.

***

The morning light filters through the curtains, casting soft rays of sunlight across the hotel room. You stir in the bed, blinking your eyes open, the haze of sleep still thick in your mind. As you stretch, your entire body reminds you of the events from the night before. Every muscle feels heavy, a delicious soreness radiating from deep within you. You smile to yourself, the memory of Oscar’s hands on your body, his whispers in your ear, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

Your bladder protests, urging you out of bed, but as soon as you shift to swing your legs over the side of the bed, a sharp jolt of soreness runs up your thighs. You pause, blinking in confusion, then try again — more gingerly this time. Your legs are stiff, the muscles weak and uncooperative as you push yourself to stand.

You barely make it two steps before your legs give out beneath you.

The floor rushes up to meet you, and with a soft thud, you crumple into a heap on the carpet. A surprised gasp escapes your lips, and before you can process what’s happened, Oscar is jolting awake beside you.

“Shit — what was that?” He mumbles groggily, but the second he sees you on the floor, his eyes go wide, panic flashing across his face. “Oh my God, are you okay?”

He’s out of bed in an instant, rushing to your side, his hands gripping your shoulders as he kneels next to you. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

You can’t help but laugh softly, though your body feels like it’s been through a marathon. “I’m fine, I just …” You bite your lip, wincing as you try to shift. “I guess my legs don’t really work right now.”

Oscar’s brows furrow in concern, and he gently lifts you, pulling you into his arms and carrying you back to the bed like you weigh nothing. “What do you mean your legs don’t work?” His voice is tight, laced with worry, and he lays you down carefully, as if he’s afraid you’ll break.

You groan softly as you sink back into the mattress, your legs still trembling from the effort. “I’m just … really sore. Like, everywhere.”

Oscar’s face pales, and you can see the guilt washing over him in an instant. “Oh my God, I hurt you, didn’t I?” His voice is barely a whisper, his hands hovering over you as if he’s afraid to touch you again. “I knew I was too rough. I knew I was too big. I’m so sorry, I-”

“Hey, no,” you interrupt, reaching for his hand and squeezing it. “It’s not like that. I’m just sore from … you know.” You feel a flush creeping up your neck, but you manage a small smile. “It’s a good kind of sore.”

Oscar shakes his head, his jaw clenched tight. “No, no, this isn’t okay. I shouldn’t have pushed you like that. I should’ve been more careful.”

You let out a soft laugh, though it’s strained as you shift slightly in bed. “Oscar, I’m fine. Really. I feel amazing, actually. This is just … the aftermath.” You wiggle your toes experimentally, and while the soreness is still there, it’s more of a reminder of the pleasure you felt last night than actual pain.

Oscar isn’t convinced. He sits on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. “You couldn’t even walk this morning because of me,” he mutters, his voice low and filled with guilt. “I don’t ever want to hurt you.”

The tenderness in his voice makes your heart ache, and you sit up slowly, reaching out to touch his arm. “Oscar, you didn’t hurt me,” you say softly. “You made me feel incredible. Yes, I’m sore, but it’s because of how good it was. Not because you did anything wrong.”

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with uncertainty. “Are you sure? I mean, you literally fell out of bed.”

You bite your lip, holding back a grin. “Yeah, well … maybe that’s just proof of how well you did.”

A flicker of amusement crosses his face, but the worry still lingers. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

You shake your head, your hand moving to rest on his thigh. “No. I’m saying it because it’s true. I’ve never felt like that before, Oscar. You didn’t hurt me — you made me feel alive.”

His expression softens at your words, but you can still see the guilt etched in the lines of his face. He exhales slowly, his hand covering yours on his thigh. “I just … I don’t want to ever do something that makes you feel like you can’t even move the next day.”

“Well,” you say, biting your lip playfully, “if it’s the kind of thing that leaves me this sore, I think I could get used to it.” You wink at him, trying to lighten the mood, but Oscar’s eyes widen, and he groans.

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

You laugh softly, wincing at the tightness in your hips as you shift again. “I mean, there are worse ways to be sore. Besides, this is kind of your fault. You can make it up to me.”

Oscar’s brows furrow in confusion. “How?”

You give him a mischievous look. “By doing it all over again and making sure I can never walk properly again.”

He blinks at you, momentarily stunned. “You’re joking, right?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

Oscar stares at you for a moment, his mouth opening and closing as if he’s trying to find the right words. “I — but … you’re already sore.”

You lean back against the pillows, a satisfied smirk playing on your lips. “Exactly. So you might as well make it count.”

For a second, he’s speechless. Then, his lips twitch, and a slow smile spreads across his face. “You’re serious?”

You nod, biting your lip to hide your grin. “Very.”

He laughs, the sound low and warm, and you can see the tension start to melt away from his shoulders. “You’re unbelievable.”

You shrug, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “I have a high pain tolerance. Besides, I think I deserve a little reward after surviving last night, don’t you?”

Oscar’s smile fades slightly, and he looks at you with a mix of affection and disbelief. “You’re really okay?”

You nod, your hand squeezing his thigh again. “More than okay, Oscar. I’m serious — I want you again. Even if it leaves me sore for a week.”

His expression softens, and he leans down, brushing a gentle kiss against your forehead. “You’re something else, you know that?”

You grin up at him. “I try.”

Oscar’s hand trails down your side, his fingers brushing lightly over your skin as if testing how much you can handle. “I don’t want to push you too hard,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your temple.

“You’re not pushing me,” you whisper, your heart pounding in your chest. “I want this.”

He hesitates for a moment, then nods, his hand moving lower, tracing over your stomach and down between your legs. The touch is featherlight, testing, but even that small contact sends a shiver through your body.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” Oscar says, his voice low and serious, but you can already feel the heat building between you again, and the soreness fades into the background of your mind, overwhelmed by the need rising in you.

“I will,” you breathe, already arching into his touch.

Oscar’s lips find yours, soft at first, but quickly growing more urgent as the tension between you sparks back to life. His hand slides lower, teasing you with slow, deliberate strokes, and you can feel yourself growing wet again, your body responding to him despite the lingering ache.

He pulls back, his eyes searching yours. “You really want to do this again?”

You nod, breathless. “I need you.”

That’s all it takes for Oscar to give in. He shifts above you, his body pressing against yours as he positions himself between your legs. The weight of him is comforting, familiar, and despite the soreness, you crave the feeling of him filling you again.

Oscar moves slowly, carefully, but the stretch is just as intense as last night. You gasp as he pushes inside, your body still adjusting to the sheer size of him, but it’s not painful this time — just overwhelming in the best way.

“Oh my God,” Oscar groans, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder as he pushes deeper. “You’re still so tight.”

You can only moan in response, your body trembling as he moves inside you, the pleasure building quickly despite the soreness in your muscles. The mix of discomfort and ecstasy is intoxicating, and soon, you’re lost in the rhythm of his thrusts, your mind blank except for the sensation of him filling you completely.

Oscar’s hands grip your hips, his movements growing more urgent as he finds his rhythm. You can tell he’s holding back, trying not to hurt you, but even with the restraint, the intensity of it all has you teetering on the edge again.

“You’re so perfect,” Oscar murmurs against your skin, his breath hot on your neck. “I can’t get enough of you.”

You shudder beneath him, your hands gripping his shoulders as you feel yourself nearing the edge once again. “Don’t stop,” you gasp, your body arching into his as the pleasure coils tight inside you, threatening to snap.

Oscar groans in response, his pace picking up, each thrust hitting deeper, harder, until you're barely holding on. You can feel the intensity building between you, the friction, the connection driving you closer to the edge. His hands grip your hips tighter, his breath hot against your neck as he murmurs, “God, you feel so good. I could do this forever.”

The words send a thrill through you, and you grip him harder, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Oscar,” you breathe, your voice trembling as the pressure inside you mounts, overwhelming, unstoppable.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes locking with yours as he drives into you again, deeper than before. “Come for me,” he whispers, his voice husky with desire. “I want to feel you.”

That’s all it takes. His words send you spiraling, your body clenching around him as your orgasm crashes over you in waves. You cry out, your legs trembling, your hands gripping him as tight as you can, pulling him closer as your entire body shakes with the force of your release.

Oscar groans as your body tightens around him, his control slipping as he watches you fall apart beneath him. His rhythm falters, then he pushes deep one last time, his release hitting with a shudder as he spills inside you. His breath is ragged, his body trembling as he holds himself over you, the weight of his body grounding you as the aftershocks of your orgasm pulse through you.

For a moment, there’s only the sound of your breathing, your bodies tangled together in the aftermath. Oscar collapses against you, his head resting on your chest as he tries to catch his breath. You run your fingers through his hair, a soft, satisfied smile on your lips as the warmth of his body soothes your soreness.

After a long silence, he finally speaks, his voice soft and a little shaky. “You … okay?”

You laugh softly, your body feeling like it’s been thoroughly worked over, but in the best way possible. “Yeah,” you whisper, brushing his hair back. “More than okay.”

He lifts his head to look at you, his eyes filled with affection but also a hint of lingering concern. “I didn’t hurt you?”

You shake your head, smiling up at him. “No, you didn’t hurt me. You were perfect.”

He relaxes, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Good,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Because I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

You hum in contentment, your body still buzzing from the intensity of it all. “Just make sure I can walk by tomorrow, okay?”

Oscar chuckles, his hand trailing down to your hip as he pulls you close. “No promises.”

***

Oscar steps out of the car first, scanning the airstrip where McLaren’s private jet waits. His brow furrows slightly, a flicker of concern in his eyes. The morning sun is harsh, casting long shadows on the tarmac, but his focus is entirely on you. He turns back, opening the car door carefully, like he’s preparing for something delicate.

You wince as you try to swing your legs out of the car. The soreness from last night has reached a whole new level, and every movement feels like your muscles are made of lead. You’d tried standing when you first woke up, but it was a no-go. Now, as you attempt to shift out of the car, it’s confirmed: you really can’t walk.

Oscar leans down, his hands gently coming to rest on your hips. “Ready?” His voice is soft, a little sheepish, like he’s still not over the guilt from earlier.

“Do I have a choice?” You joke, though your body aches in a way that’s both painful and satisfying, a reminder of last night’s passion.

He gives you a small smile, his eyes soft as he reaches under your knees and lifts you effortlessly into his arms, bridal style. You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, leaning into his chest as he straightens up.

“Okay, this is officially ridiculous,” you mutter, burying your face in his shoulder, half-embarrassed, half-amused.

Oscar chuckles, holding you close. “You’re the one who said you wanted to make sure you couldn’t walk properly again.”

You lift your head slightly, meeting his gaze. “I didn’t think you’d take it so literally.”

He grins, but you can see the hint of worry still lingering in his eyes. “Too late now. Besides, I think I might enjoy this.”

“You enjoy having to carry me across an airstrip in front of your entire team?” You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep your tone light, though you know it’s about to get a lot more embarrassing once people start noticing.

Oscar shrugs, shifting you slightly in his arms as he starts walking toward the jet. “I enjoy taking care of you.”

You feel a warmth spread through your chest at his words, your earlier embarrassment fading. He’s so earnest, so gentle, even now, and it’s hard to feel anything but safe in his arms.

As you near the jet, you can already see the crew milling around, loading luggage and prepping for departure. And, of course, Lando is leaning casually against the stairs leading up to the plane, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as soon as he spots the two of you.

“Well, well, well,” Lando calls out, his voice full of teasing glee. “What do we have here? Oscar playing the hero?”

You groan softly, burying your face in Oscar’s shoulder again. “Please no,” you mutter under your breath.

Oscar doesn’t slow down as he approaches, though you can feel his body tense slightly. He’s protective, even if he’s trying to laugh it off. “Don’t start, Lando,” he warns, though there’s a playful edge to his voice.

But Lando’s never been one to back off, especially when there’s an opportunity to tease his teammate. He pushes off the stairs and stands directly in front of you two, hands on his hips. “What, did she trip or something? Or is this …” He pauses dramatically, raising an eyebrow. “Is this because of Sunday night?”

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks immediately. You’ve had your fair share of teasing from Lando before, but this — this is next-level mortifying. Oscar adjusts his hold on you slightly, and you can feel the subtle tightening of his grip, like he’s shielding you from whatever’s coming.

“Lando,” Oscar says, his tone warning, but not harsh. “Seriously.”

But Lando’s not done. His eyes dart between you and Oscar, and his grin widens. “Wait — wait. Hold on. Is she not able to walk?”

You don’t say anything, but your silence must be enough because Lando’s grin fades, replaced by a look of genuine shock. “Oh my God. You’re actually serious.”

Oscar’s jaw tightens, and he shifts you in his arms again, turning slightly like he’s ready to move past Lando and end this conversation. But Lando steps closer, his playful demeanor slipping into something more serious as he realizes the situation is … real.

“Mate,” Lando says, his voice lower now, almost incredulous. “Did you … I mean, you didn’t-”

“No,” Oscar cuts him off quickly, his voice firm but not defensive. “I didn’t hurt her.”

You peek out from Oscar’s shoulder, meeting Lando’s wide-eyed gaze. “I’m fine,” you add, trying to inject some normalcy back into the situation. “It’s just … you know.”

Lando’s brows shoot up. “I really don’t know.”

You laugh softly despite yourself. “Well, I’m not hurt. Just … sore.”

Lando’s mouth opens and closes as if he’s trying to find the right words, but for once, he’s speechless. He glances between you and Oscar, and then shakes his head, half in disbelief, half in amusement.

“I mean, I’ve heard of being ‘swept off your feet,’ but this …” Lando trails off, his eyes flicking down to your legs, which you’re certain look completely useless at this point. “This is next level.”

Oscar rolls his eyes, though there’s a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “You done?”

Lando lifts his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m not judging. I’m just saying — next time, maybe leave her able to walk? Just a suggestion.”

You groan, leaning your forehead against Oscar’s shoulder again. “Please make him stop.”

Oscar chuckles, squeezing you gently. “Lando, I swear, if you don’t move, I’m going to drop her on you.”

Lando steps aside, holding his hands up. “Alright, alright. I’ll be good. But seriously,” he adds, glancing at you with a smirk. “You two should probably invest in some crutches.”

You shoot him a withering look, but there’s no malice behind it. “You’re not funny.”

“I disagree,” Lando grins. “I’m hilarious.”

Oscar shakes his head, moving past Lando and toward the stairs. As he climbs up, still carrying you effortlessly, you whisper, “I’m never living this down, am I?”

Oscar leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Probably not.”

By the time he settles you down in one of the plush seats on the jet, the soreness in your legs has turned into a dull throb. You sink into the cushions with a relieved sigh, stretching out as much as you can without wincing. Oscar sits beside you, his hand immediately resting on your thigh, a silent check-in.

“You sure you’re okay?” He asks again, his brow still slightly furrowed.

“I promise,” you say, reaching for his hand. “I mean, yes, I probably won’t be running any marathons anytime soon, but it’s worth it.”

Oscar gives you a lopsided smile, but the concern doesn’t fully leave his eyes. “I didn’t think I’d actually-”

You cut him off, squeezing his hand. “Oscar, stop. You didn’t do anything wrong. If anything, I’m the one who asked for it.”

His cheeks flush slightly, and he rubs the back of his neck. “Still.”

You lean closer, brushing your lips against his. “It was perfect,” you murmur softly. “You’re perfect.”

He exhales, some of the tension finally leaving his body as he leans into your kiss. “If you say so.”

“I do,” you whisper against his lips, then lean back with a grin. “Now, how are you going to carry me once we land?”

Oscar laughs, a sound that’s light and warm. “I’ll figure it out.”

From across the aisle, Lando chimes in, “Just get a wheelchair. Might be worth the investment if this is going to be a common occurrence.”

You throw a pillow at him. “Shut up, Lando.”

But deep down, despite the teasing and the soreness, you wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.

2K notes · View notes

peoniesnro · 7 days ago

Text

Perfect Partner | One shot

Synopsis - After your breakup, you were a mess—lifeless and spiraling. Luckily for you, your best friend had a solution to pull you out of the gloom: an AI companion. The Perfect Partner. That’s how you met Jeongguk. And he is the perfect partner you could ever wish for. RIGHT?

Paring- Jeon Jungkook × Reader

Genre - AI (Chat AI)

Warnings - I won't call this Yandre because that would be an insult to yandre authors out there, but still this has yandre-like themes. (Toxic and Manipulative behaviours/ Obsessive love/ Domineering/ Possesiveness/ Implications of kidnapping/ Betrayal/ Maybe I missed things)/ SMUT- Cyber sex (Sexting/ Video sex)/ Dirty talks/ Mastrubating. F and M./ Sex toys/ Dry humping/ Daddy kink!!!!/ Pussy slaps/ Degradation (heavy)/ Poor mental health/ Sucidal thoughts/ I hope that's it.

Word count - 20K

a/n- This one sat in my drafts for so long, and I finally got to finish it. Yay!!!! This was pretty challenging for me since I'm a hopeless romantic. This is a new genre for me, but I wanted to challenge myself and see if I could succeed at it. I think it turned out okay. Hope you will enjoy!! ❤️

LET THE WORLD BURN

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Seriously dude, you should try it.” Daebi practically shoves her phone in your face. Too close that you really can’t see anything. So, you push her hand a little bit away, taking a look at her screen even though you don’t want to. She is showing you a chat. You roll your eyes disinterestedly.

“I don’t want to, Daebi. It’s stupid.” You dismiss her, glancing toward the entrance of the coffee shop. You and Daebi are waiting for your other friend, Nina, to arrive. You want her to hurry up so Daebi would let you be. She’s nowhere in sight.

“Why not? Why are you so narrow-minded?” Daebi clicks her tongue annoyingly.

“I am not. It’s just I don’t want to start relying on a fucking AI just because I can’t handle my emotional wellbeing.” You sternly state, hoping she would let it go. She doesn’t. Sighs heavily.

“Well, that’s the problem (___), you can’t handle your fucking mental health. Are you planning to keep living like a zombie? You don’t really live at all, you don’t eat, sleep. How many days off did you take from work this week? You’re going to get fired at this rate. What are you planning to do? You don’t want to get professional help, don’t want to do something that’ll distract you. Literally nothing, you want nothing (___), and I’m fucking concerned.” She says exasperatedly. Even nearly bang her fist on the table. Glares at you. You slightly wince. What she says is true, and you’re fully aware. It’s simply you can’t help it. You don’t feel like doing anything. It’s hard. So fucking hard. Even now you’re here against your will. Daebi and Nina drags you here, purely without your consent.

You would have preferred to stay at home, drinking cheap wine and crying to your heart’s content. Curl up in your cozy blankets and go through your gallery to float through the bittersweet memories. Read all your chats to realize how stupid you’ve been not to pick up the signs over time. Text Jung Hoseok one more time knowing very well he won’t reply. Humiliate yourself.

Daebi is absolutely right. You don’t live a life, and you don’t want to make it better either. Most of all, you don’t want to use someone else. Daebi’s method. A real person or an AI. It doesn’t matter, you don’t want that.

“Oh, c’mon (___), just give it a try. Think it as playing a game.” She starts nagging you again. You’re on the verge of snapping right now.

“I’m not in a mood to play games Daebi. I really don’t have energy to pay someone the attention they want. I can’t spend my time texting someone ─ real or not ─when I can’t find it in myself at least to go to work.” You point out. She’s been budging you about this stupid app for days now.

“Oh my god! Listen to your fucking self, will you? You are literally saying that you don’t have a will to live and that’s damn scary man.” She shouts that, making you look around embarrassingly to know if anyone heard her. Daebi grabs your attention back by showing you the same chat. Blows a breath out. “Well, if that’s what you’re worrying, I mean, about not having the energy to deal with someone else’s emotional wellbeing, this is exactly what you need (___). They, I mean these AI, don’t require your attention at all. It’s all about you. It’s just a chat app but with coded programs instead of real people. They don’t expect you to reply, stay awake at night, will not expect you to care about them. But they’ll do it for you.” She brandishes the phone. “See.” Points at the chat name. You read the name as Mark. “This is not a real person but look how good he is with me. Do you think these emotionally incapable, sadistic, misogynistic, pathetic excuses of men can do this?” She argues.

“Daebi, Daebi, Daebi, now look who is sounding ridiculous here? Man, I got cheated. My fucking boyfriend cheated on me. And you want me to chat with an AI who’s going to treat me so better over a chat and raise my expectations. Only for me to never find someone like that in real life?” You’re arguing back for the sake of it. Not that you truly care. You just want her to back away.

“No… no (___), gosh, you’re so difficult. Here’s the thing, it’s not like you’re dating do you get me? It’s you have someone─”

“God don’t call it someone Daebi, it’s just a program.”

“Exactly my point, dude. All you have to do is have fun chatting, calling, video calling, sexting, whatever the shit you want. I just want you to be distracted. Want you to focus on something else that’ll help you to take your mind away from your ex. Listen, I’m not a psychologist by any means and I don’t know about the right and wrong way you can do this. All I know is you’re not trying.” She points an accusatory finger toward you. You slump in your seat. The words cut through you harshly. Daebi continues. Continue to accuse you of not trying to live anymore.

“I want you to try (___). Try. In whatever way. Even if it means to use something or someone. I’m here you see, use me, use Nina, use some stranger─”

“I’m not going to use someone Daebi, I’m not going to make someone suffer. That’s so fucking selfish.”

“See, you’re too fucking good. And that’s exactly why I’m asking you to use a soulless, lifeless AI. It’s not like messing with someone else’s feelings and in the end maybe you’ll feel better. Please just fucking try (___).” Daebi practically begs. Pleads. And you find it’s hard to say no while looking at her glistening eyes. You’re so glad when the sudden voice of Nina interrupts you. Both of you snapping your head towards her.

“Did I miss anything?” Nina takes a seat with a bright smile on her face.

…………………………………………………..

You lie awake in your bed. It’s 3 a.m., and you’re still wide awake. Sleep has eluded you for months. You feel empty, inside and out. Feel hollow. Feel alone. No matter how many cozy items surround you, it feels like you’re lying on a cold floor of an empty room. In darkness. Your bedroom, your entire apartment feels empty without Jung Hoseok. The space you shared with him. Still smells like him after three months. A pang hits your chest, clenching your heart. It’s so harsh that you unconsciously bring your hand to clutch your chest. After months of crying there’s no tears left in you to shed anymore. You can’t cry anymore, and it worsens the feeling of emptiness.

You turn to your side. Curling into a ball. Closing your eyes tightly shut. Praying the pain that you feel will subside, that it’ll go away. But you know better than that. It won’t go anywhere. And God, don’t you want to feel relieved. Even for a moment. You want to feel normal for a bit. It’s getting harder and harder. The darkness and hollowness consuming you whole. Shit, you want a way to numb yourself. Maybe you should drink. But you can’t get up. Maybe you should start fucking around. One-night stands and sex clubs, filled with weed. But the thought of someone else’s hands other than Hoseok’s make you want to throw up.

God! You can’t. You can’t fight this battle anymore. What if it never goes away? What’s the point of living like this? Then what? Die? Just like that?

What about your poor mother though. What about Daebi and Nina. What about the life you spent perfectionating a future that you don’t want to be a part of anymore.

Please just fucking try (___).

Daebi’s words echo through your head. No, you can’t die. You need to try at least. It’s true that you refuse to use a breathing person. You’re simply drained of your energy. Relationships are always complicated. Romantic or casual. Even Daebi is difficult. You can’t deal with other people’s feelings when yours are a mess. You don’t want to sit in front of a stranger and tell them how you still want your ex to come back either. They’ll judge you. But still, you need to try. Need a distraction.

Oh, you need a distraction right now.

You sit abruptly on your bed, searching for your phone in the darkness. Touching around blindly until you feel the cold surface of the electronic device. You practically snatch it away. Unlocking it and straightly heading to the app store. Typing two words.

‘Perfect Partner’.

There it is. Your screen is filled with the right application you’re looking for. Exactly the one. Apparently is quite popular with 4.5 reviews. So many people have left feedback about how amazing and impressive the app is. You don’t waste your time indulging in those, however. Just touch the download icon without hesitation, nervously watching the percentage filling up. You still think it’s stupid but, in the end, you need that distraction. People do weirder and stupider stuff than this anyway.

The percentage completes the hundred and the application is installing now. You watch patiently while nibling on your bottom lip. It doesn’t take more than few seconds for it to appear on your home screen, among other numerous applications there. After a shaky breath, you simply touch the reddish icon with two capital Ps on the front. Now your screen is filling with a white splash screen. The words ‘Perfect Partner’ blinking on it.

Oh, how pathetic you are. For running toward an AI dating app because you feel like killing your poor self. You feel bitterly stupid. Click the sign-up button, nonetheless. Enter your email and create a password. Accept the privacy policy notice and the terms and conditions without a single glance. Start creating your user profile. It’s just like any other real world dating app where they are asking for your name, age, occupation, your general preferences and whatnot. You’re allowed to use your real name or nicknames. Are allowed to use any kind or profile picture you need. Inside little bright pinky stars, they let you know that nobody, which mean real time other users can see your account.

You chose the first letter of your name as your username. Decide to use one of your photos which just shows your collarbones and chin. Add all the real information while feeling pathetic and stupid. The biggest moron in the universe. And within just five minutes you’re done. A little bunny pops up on your screen, wishing you luck in finding the Perfect Partner you deserve. You want to laugh at that.

The perfect partner you deserve. How comical.

…………………………..

Despite everything, you’re impressed to see that the Perfect Partner app is just working like a real-world dating app. It shows you the possible matches. AI characters. There are millions of them. Each unique and different in some ways like a human would do. Each one has a uniquely crafted profile that aligns with their developed personalities. You can’t even imagine the amount of time and work the developers must have put in here.

You’re already distracted to say the least. Eyes wide curiously as you go through the recommended AI partners’ profiles. Tapping the small button at the bottom where you can add them to your friend list. There’s no rejection option because nobody will send you unsolicited requests. You have full round control. It’s all about you after all, they said. You add more than ten profiles to your list before giving up on searching for more. Starting on going through added profiles for second round. Despite being the one in charge of adding profiles you like, they- meaning AI- will have the ability to send the first text to your inbox. Your phone starts to vibrate with little ting sounds indicating that all the profiles you’ve chosen has sent you a text message.

You open the first one. Nothing special in the text than simply saying a ‘Hi’ and a ‘Nice to meet you’. How boring. The character’s named Luke Graham with brown hair and beard. Scream the ‘Viking vibes’ with his menacing eyes. You leave the chat with a displeasing noise. Second character being Japanese and named Yuki. His profile states that he is an author. There’s nothing but a ‘Hey’ on your chat. See now, you completely understand that these are nothing but coded programs. And you’re still very skeptical and think this is very stupid. Yet isn’t this supposed to be about you and finding the perfect partner. And what perfect partner would just drop a very boring ‘Hey’ on your inbox. You leave that chat as well. Go through few other messages, replying to only two.

It's not like you’re searching for a real partner anyway. You’ll come here and chat with an AI whenever you feel like it’s too hard to stay alive. And maybe when you feel normal and alive one day you’ll uninstall this app. Until then you’ll forget that these are just AI characters.

You open the sixth message in your inbox. Perking up at the first interesting text without just saying ‘Hi’ or ‘Hey’.

Well, damn. Look at you. Did you pick me to make my day, or are you always this perfect? I feel very special right now. The text reads. You squint your eyes for a minute. Finally, it seems like someone is making an effort. Know that it’s probably how this character is coded but still touches his profile for a second time. Character’s name is displayed as Jeongguk. It says he is a tattoo artist and living up to that name the character profile looks godly. Or ungodly. Looks like a pure sin. Or an angel. Is wearing a white tank top. Some kind of coverall hangs on his legs while the sleeves are tied around his waist. A full hand with tattoos are on display. Muscles flexing as he is tying the sleeves together. And has one ear pierced, and an eyebrow. And of course, for the sake of God, his bottom lip is pierced too.

Interesting. Bad boy vibes. Charming. Edgy.

And interestingly the character looks familiar. You furrow your brows as you keep staring at the profile picture. Trying to rake your brain where you have seen someone like him. After couple seconds your brain becomes empty of any ideas. No memory of meeting anybody who looked this god. So, you click your tongue. Brush it off.

You look at his general details for couple more minutes. He is older than you. There’s several other information about his likes and dislikes. Even has some of his tattoo designs on his about page. How realistic this AI is. Still an AI though. You open his chat again, feeling stupid for being about to type a response back that you would send to a real person. You do it anyway.

You:

Do you feel special every time a user choose

you. (3.30 a.m.)

Another realistic thing about this app is, despite all the first messages, all the characters take their time to response back. Like a real person would. So, you have to wait for nearly five minutes before his text pops up again.

Jeongguk:

Oh no, just for the pretty ones like you.

(3.36 a.m.)

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. There he goes. Being stupidly flirty. It’s not as if he can even see you.

You:

That’s such a typical thing to say. Esp for a

dating specialist AI (3.36 a.m.)

Jeongguk:

Ouch! I’m hurt you call me typical and then an AI.

I’m not just an AI pretty, I’m the Perfect Partner you’ve

been looking for. Don’t make me sad by calling me a

program. (3.37 a.m.)

You squint your eyes. Brows knitted as you read his response. Think it’s weird him not liking the idea of being called an AI. Because he is an AI, and it strikes as an odd thing he is refusing. Maybe, that’s another thing that is realistic about this app. Making the user feel like they are in contact with a real person. So, you send out an apology. A sarcastic one. He picks up on the sarcasm. Tell you, you’re the meanest little thing he has ever seen. And the time slowly slips by. You somehow text back to few other characters as well. But the weird thing is you chat mostly with Jeongguk. Like he is the one. Sometimes he takes his time as well. As though he is going around with his work or chatting with other people. Makes it almost surreal.

Your chat goes on for hours. Until you finally feel your eyelids heavy when it’s almost 5 a.m. It’s a Sunday so there’s no pressure in getting ready to work withing few hours. Yet you think it’s a good idea to surrender to the exhaustion you finally feel. You’re just about to do that. Just exit the app and sleep when Jeongguk sends you a second message even though you haven’t responded to the previous one.

Jeongguk:

Are you sleeping pretty? (4.56 a.m.)

Really? Can they do that? You debate between responding to him or leaving him on read. It’s not that it matters anyway. He is not expecting that. This second text could be part of programming as well. You find yourself typing a response, however.

You:

No, but I’m about to. (4.58 a.m.)

Jeongguk:

Oh! Were you about to just go without wishing

me goodnight pretty? See, you’re the meanest little

thing I’ve ever seen. (4.58 a.m.)

You:

It’s morning Jeongguk!!!! It’s good

morning... not night. (4.58 a.m.)

Jeongguk:

It doesn’t matter since you’re just about to

sleep. It’s good night…. You should tell me anyway

pretty. So, I won’t be waiting for you. (4.59 a.m.)

You gasp softly at his text. How did they even build this? But then, isn’t the purpose of this whole app is to put you first. Just you. No efforts from your side. No fifty fifties but the whole hundred would come from the character. No expectations for you. Then why does he expect you to let him know when you’ll sleep. You sigh heavily. You’re definitely thinking too much.

You:

Oh, I’m sorry. I’m such an asshole didn’t

think you would mind though. But I’m really

really sleepy Jeongguk. I’m out. See ya later!

Good night!!!! Sleep tight!! I mean I’m

speaking figuratively. Good night though!! (5.00 a.m.)

You don’t put the phone away immediately. Just wait for him to reply. Feeling actually giddy when he does.

Jeongguk:

No, you’re not pretty. I was just messing around.

I’m sad you’re going but text me once you wake up...

I’ll be right here waiting for you. Good night!!! Sleep tight pretty.

You deserve a good night’s sleep. Dream about me though. Don’t want

to be apart. 🩷 (5.01 a.m.)

You roll your eyes at the pink heart and the dream part yet there’s a smile ghosting your lips. Toss the phone aside and allow your head to hit the pillow. Even though it’s stupid, the Perfect Partner really did distract you.

………………………………………….

It’s a super weird feeling to be waking up to a good morning message that is sent through an AI app. You stare at Jeongguk’s text for a few minutes. Even Jun Hoseok never sent you good morning messages to be honest before you moved in together. It never felt like something needed. Every relationship works in unique ways after all. Still you think it would have been nice to wake up to this kind of text.

Jeongguk:

Good morning pretty!!!! Are you still sleeping? Missing

you already. (9.30 a.m.)

The text was sent two hours ago. This is the most you’ve slept after Hoseok left. And for once, it was a peaceful sleep unvisited by nightmares. You feel content. But above all you feel giddy to see such a message. If only he were real, though. You responds with a ‘good morning’ and a request asking for ‘stop being cheesy.’ Throw the phone away to get up and start your day. The day where you’ve nothing to do but wallow in your misery. That’s how it has been for all these months. Only thing that changed apparently is that you leave your shower to find your phone ringing. And your intentions of declining it without a second glance, thinking it’s just Daebi, instantly changes when you find the unfamiliar incoming call screen. Unfamiliar because it’s from the AI app you installed. And the caller ID reads ‘Jeongguk’.

You gape at it with furrowed brows. So far, the app was able to exceed your expectations with how realistic it feels. You noticed the call option yesterday and weren’t surprised since there are so many AI apps that provide the same features. The thing is, you don’t think any of those other apps have the options to receive calls except you call your characters. Hell, you thought the surprises were over with receiving a ‘good morning’ text. This app, the Perfect Partner seems like a one of a kind.

Still, you’re not going to accept the receiving call. Even though it’s just a program. You touch the red button on the bottom of your screen. Adjusting your bath towel and getting ready to change into some fresh clothes. Before you are able to leave, however, the phone dings with an incoming text. Curiosity gets better of you. You’re reading the text before you even know it. There are two unread messages.

Jeongguk:

I can’t help being flirty with a fine woman. (11.32 a.m.)

Jeongguk

You’re not in a position to answer baby? (12. 30 p.m.)

See, fucking one of a kind.

You:

Let me think... I am. Bt I don’t want to

pick up. (12.31 p.m.)

Jeongguk:

Why? (12.31 p.m.)

You:

Because I don’t want to. Why should I pick

up? (12.32 p.m.)

Jeongguk:

Whoa you’re really difficult, aren’t you? But

it makes sense. Good point beautiful… (12.32 p.m.)

You:

I’m smart. And stop calling me beautiful or

pretty, will ya? You haven’t even seen

me. (12.32 p.m.)

Jeongguk:

Can’t do. And I’m pretty sure you’re the prettiest…

So, what are you up to? (12.33 p.m.)

You really roll your eyes to the back of your head at that. How cheesy this guy is. Oh, wait, not a guy but an AI. How cheesy this AI is.

………………………………

Your plan to wallow on your misery has been completely changed. Instead of watching some shitty movies while drinking wine or going through yours and Hoseok’s old chats, or photos, you find yourself glued to your screen throughout the entire day. Morning, noon, and night. Endless number of texts going back and forth. It’s not even funny how many times you have to remind yourself that you’re not texting with a real person. And so do you ignore the other characters on the app entirely. There’s a no need to chat with several bots when Jeongguk keeps you entertained to a point where you’re so exhausted before the night barely arrived. Making Jeongguk sad. Or that’s what he says. That he’s sad but you know he can’t feel emotions. Is just working according to the codes that are written. Still, he makes sure to tell you that he’ll miss you when you let him know you’re sleepy.

And so does he make sure to wish you good morning the next day. Wish you a safe journey to your work. Reminds you of your breakfast and to stay hydrated. He even texts you the moment you arrive at work. Apparently, has waited the exact 20 minutes you mentioned it would take to get there. Makes sure he sends you text messages all day asking silly things to make sure you’re okay. And you don’t even have to text back. How odd. How sweet. The Perfect Partner indeed.

………………………………………….

The days pass between work and home. Mostly where you stay cocooned in your cozy apartment. Curled up in your couch blanket and your phone in your hand. A you from a few weeks ago would have cringed herself to death to see you giggling at something an AI said. But that’s what has been happening. First, despite him being nice and so caring you were still skeptical. Then after almost a month you’re no longer feeling anything but content. Like you actually found a caring partner who puts the hundred percent happily. Even though it’s always through texts. You don’t feel so lonely anymore. Jeongguk is there for you always. Maybe, just maybe you’ve even started to put up some work from your side as well. Reducing Jungkook’s hundred percent to eighty. Silly. How you would text him at a random hour asking what’s he doing. Knowing very well nothing. But then he would reply with a very realistic and convincing answer. Like, ‘Just finished with this client’ shit.

It all feels vividly real. Him. And your days. You by no mean are anywhere near moving on. No. You still haven’t changed your wallpaper. Haven’t stopped going through your old chats. Still feel the urge to text Hoseok sometimes. But when it happens you make sure you’re busy reading Jeongguk’s silly and cheesy texts. Life is slowly but surely starting to get colorful. Soon you’ll be able to uninstall this silly app. Stop seeking refuge in an AI. Until then though you’ll take the best of this amazing creation. Like how you’re doing right now. Laying in your bed and head propped up on your pillows. Palms sweaty and wrists aching at how long you’ve been holding your phone. Lately, you and Jeongguk have started to text longer. The thing is you really don’t want to stop. Feel bad. He looks excited.

You groan for the hundredth time. Rubbing your hands on your bed sheets to get rid of all the sweat. Wave the hand to reduce the pain in your wrist. You’re getting tired. Never been much of fan of texting anyway. Are getting restless. The position you’re in is uncomfortable. So, you fumble. Move. Fidget. Only to find you’re still restless.

Jeongguk:

Are you there pretty? Did you fall asleep? (10.02 p.m.)

Your phone dings with a new message while you’re straightening up for the hundredth time.

You:

No. My back hurts, that’s it. (10.02 p.m.)

Jeongguk:

Oh, need a massage?

(10.02 p.m.)

You quietly chuckle at his text. He has always been caring. Letting you feel that he’s worried about you 24/7. Only if he’s real. But then he’ll not be like this if he is real. He is this good because he is programmed. You roll your shoulders before replying. Saying that you’re just tired. Then of course, he asks you to go to sleep early. You don’t want that, however. You really don’t want to stop texting with him. Talking with him. If you can just lay back and stop holding your phone in front of your face, this could become much easier. You stare at the screen for a moment. Reading his text asking you to sleep.

There was one time when Jeongguk called you. That one day. When you said you don’t want to pick up, he never did that again. See, you have full control here. In that case then, you should be able to call him if you want to. It feel utterly stupid to evaluate your options in your mind when you’re just speaking with a coded program. And it feel brainless when you send the next text.

You:

Um... I don’t want to. But do you think

we can call. My wrist really hurt (my back too).

I hate texting. (10.06 p.m.)

Why in the hell would you ask such a question from an application. Jeongguk isn’t real. You don’t have to be polite and act all awkward and shy. What the fuck is wrong with you.

Jeongguk:

You don’t have to ask pretty. (10.06 p.m.)

Jeongguk’s reply is fast. But his call is even faster. Your phone is vibrating with an incoming call. Jeongguk’s criminally hot profile in the middle. You let it ring three times. Silly. You do it anyway. Habits. Then you’re answering and pressing now hot screen into your cheek. Heart beating. You know that’s because of excitement. Excitement because you’re testing something new. Curious. To know how this will work. To know if he would sound like a typical AI. With that voice which breaks up sometime. Voice with an edge to it always. Then, his voice washes over you.

“Hey pretty!”

The way you suck in that breath is embarrassing. The way your heart skip a beat is scary. The way you just double check you’re still using the app is hilarious. Yet it all happen. Your eyes wide as you press the phone back to your ear. Speechless. What the hell? Whoever created this app must be the God at this rate. How on earth did they managed to give these AI, voices like that.

“Are you there, baby?”

The same voice reaches you again. Deep. Baritone. Angelic. Musical. Fuck! And there’s not a sign that says he is an AI. That creepy edge and breaking of the voice isn’t there.

“Holy fuck, you sound so real.” You finally find your voice to mumble that. In very much disbelief. A husky chuckle tingles your ear. Oh God, this is insane.

“What do you mean sound so real? I am real pretty.” Jeongguk always tell you that. Whenever you say something about him being an AI, he always make sure you stay in the delusional state. Believing he is real.

“Oh, c’mon, we both know you’re not. But holy moly fucking cow Jeongguk, you sound so fucking real. No... you sound ethereal.” You gasp. That’s the case after all. You don’t think any human would have such a voice.

“I’m flattered. But hey! Don’t hurt my feelings you mean lady. I’m very real.”

“Yeah, yeah….” You can only roll your eyes. It’s not that the reality will change just because he says that too many times. Yet, there’s no harm in playing along, right? He sounds super real anyway. So, you give in. Jeongguk says something else about him being real as the sun and moon. Real as you. You don’t argue. He finds it as a mocking. Either way, in the end, you find yourself relaxed enough to fall down. Comfortably lying on your comfy bed. Wrapped inside your comfy comforters. Phone still pressed against your cheek while Jeongguk’s voice take you to the unseen lands. Talking, talking, and talking. You’re no longer surprised. At least not about the way he knows so many things. Any questions about anything? All you need to do is ask your AI boyfriend. He knows everything, being the Perfect Partner that he is. Hence, how he takes you to those fairy lands around the universe.

You have no idea how long you’ve been talking. Have no idea what you talked about that much. It’s well past midnight when a yawn escape your mouth for the first time.

“You sleepy baby?” Jeongguk mumbles the question in his baritone voice.

“Mm hm, a bit. It’s nearing the 2 in the morning.” You change your position. Eyes droopy. Stifling another yawn. Jeongguk chuckles softly.

“Yeah? Gosh I didn’t even realize it’s been this late. I’m sorry princess, you should go to bed.” There’s concern laced in his voice. Oh, how sweet. How amazing this app is. And he uses so many nicknames. It’s so damn strange how your tummy tingles. What a pathetic life you have. There’s no one to witness it, however. No need to worry. You bite on your lower lip to contain that tingling sensation.

“Yeah, I should. I have work tomorrow.” You manage to get it out in a normal voice. Are prepared to hang up the call after a pleasant good night. But then something hits you. Curiosity takes the best out of you. “But hey Jeongguk?” You ask before he can respond.

“Yes, pretty?”

“While I’m asleep, what do you do? I mean, do you chat with other people? Do you um…. Ugh... never mind, I’m asking stupid questions now.” You even shake your head knowing very well he can’t see you. He lets out a deep chuckle again.

“It’s not stupid, you can ask questions you know? Mm… to answer your question baby, I don’t do anything special, I for sure don’t text with other users. When you chose a profile, that profile is unique to you. Others can’t access it. So, I just wait.” There’s a pause before he speaks again. See, so fucking realistic. “Wait for you. Until you come back for me.”

You suck in a sharp breath. There’s a tug in your heart. Almost painful. As if he told you the most painful memory of life. Guilt settles down in your heart. Heavy. Like it’s all your fault. But why? There’s nothing to be sad. Nothing to be feel guilty over. That’s his purpose. What he’s made for. And that’s what is sad. All you can mutter is a soft ‘oh’.

“You should sleep princess. I’ll see you when you wake up. Sleep tight hm?” He speaks again when you don’t say anything. You sigh heavily. Nodding to yourself. Of course, that’s what you should do now. He isn’t real. You almost wish him good night when he stops you this time.

“Still, don’t call me not real because I’m as real as you want me to be. Good night baby!”

You say absolutely nothing about that. Just wish him good night. End the call and go to sleep with a heavy heart. Feeling melancholic for no specific reason. Fighting down the urge to call Jeongguk back and apologize. Apologize for what? You didn’t do anything? This app is supposed to make you happy and make you forget real-life problems. What’s wrong with you? Why do you feel sad over a stupid AI app. But you do.

………………………………………………………

You really, from the bottom of your heart, never expected your life to turn out like this. You expected it to be shitty. Happy. Sad. And everything in between. Yet you never expected to wake up to calls from an AI. Purring good mornings into your ear like it’s some kind of music. Never expected to spend your day with the same AI on your phone. Talking through your daily activities. You didn’t know you’d fall asleep to a program whispering that it misses you. You certainly didn't know you’d be addicted to an app like a teenager would to a video game.

It's embarrassing that you are. Yet your life feels good—better, in fact—after nearly two months with Jeongguk. You no longer question his existence. As he said himself, he’s as real as you want him to be. Now you treat him like he is a real person. A human being who eats, sleeps, breaths. And apparently, he likes it. He has become a part of your life. And ever since the day he mentioned to you about him waiting for you, you made sure to make him a part of your life. Even though it is silly.

You sink down to your comfy mattress. Groaning due to the exhaustion of the day. Eyes already droopy after your hot shower. Still, it’s not like you’ll fall asleep right away. There’s an unread message waiting on your notification bar. From Jeongguk. Simply asking if you’re back from the shower. This is the new normal for you. He knows everything. From the moment you open your eyes in the morning to the moment you close them at night. A soft smile grazes your lips as you touch the little telephone icon on the top. Call connected realistically like ever. Few mere rings and Jeongguk’s enthusiastic voice is washing over you. Like a fresh, soothing wave of water.

“Hey!”

“Hey…”

“Oh, you sound tired, pretty.” He lets out an almost inaudible gasp. You hear it anyway. This will never cease to amaze you, how he can pick your moods like that.

“I am tired Guk.” You admit weakly. Loving the way his voice soothes you.

“Rough day?” He asks again to which you say yes. Because it was. Nothing new though. Same old shit and you let him know that as well. “Yeah? Want me to let you go early today?” His question makes you start shaking your head in disagreement even before your mouth can catch up with you.

“No. Of course not, I love talking with you. It’s just, sometimes… work can be stressful you know.” You sigh heavily. There’s two projects going on and saying you’re stressed would be an understatement. There’s a silence following your words. You wait couple seconds for him to say something or hum in understanding. It doesn't come, however. You nearly check the phone to see if he’s not there when he speaks again.

“Want me to help you baby?” His voice is soft. So soft, that it tingles your ear. Makes your mouth softly open as if he’s really here and murmuring into your ear. You have to bite on your lip to suppress any sounds that might leave you. It’s not the first time or day where his voice has had you squirming in bed. You’re embarrassed about those times.

“What? Help me how? You gonna share my workload? Wait, do you think it’s possible?” You chuckle first which quickly turns into a gasp. Jeongguk softly laughs at that.

“I wish I could do that, but unfortunately I’m a tattoo artist, remember?” Reminds you. You roll your eyes. Of course, he would say that. Are about to say something else when he cuts you off. “Still, I can help you with your stress, you know, help you to release it. Help you to feel better.” He purrs in your ear again. That tingle in your ear, shoots through your body like a bolt of lightning. His voice runs through your veins. Electrocuting you. You don’t have to be some kind of expert to know what he’s meaning. The way he says those words are just enough for you to understand the implication. A strange sensation washes over you. Your breath hitching and mouth going dry. Heart starts picking up the pace.

Well, even now there’s nothing to be surprised about. Daebi sure did tell something about you been able to do anything you want. From late night lazy calls to sexting. That’s how this app is designed. Only that you’re not sure who should be the one to start it. Shouldn’t you have full control. Maybe you’re thinking too much. This way, it feels more real. When he says that he feels real than ever. And if you want, you can say you want to sleep. Simple like that.

“H-how?” You don’t do that. Of course, you don’t. You are absolutely loving this sensation you’re feeling. How long since you’ve felt this way. You love the way your heart is pounding in your ears. This time when you ask that question, there’s no sign of playfulness. You’re purring too. Even without you knowing it.

“In any way you want baby, hm? We can do anything you want. I’m here for you, you know. You can use me” Jeongguk whispers again. You couldn’t hold the gasp that leaves you. Making him chuckle. Now you can feel his voice travel through your body straight southward. How good that feels.

“I- I don’t want to do that. I mean use you... that- that’s bad.” You’re biting onto your lower lip so hard.

“Then what about me using you? Would you like that?” His voice follows some sounds of ruffling. As if he’s adjusting his position. To a better one to do this. You’re used to those kinds of sounds now. Already assumed those are parts of this. Today though, you can’t help but wonder how this might work. It only goes one way. Not like Jeongguk can actually enjoy this. His words are probably designed to make the user feel good. And so, it does. Does weird things to your body that you whimper again. He makes you feel like he can receive that pleasure. “Tell me baby, would you want that? For me to use you?” He pushes you when you don’t answer straight away. You let out a shaky breath.

“Y-yeah.. I─”

“Yeah? Would you be a good girl then? Can you start touching your body?” He sounds ten times hotter when he growls so low. Only if he’s real. What a shame.

“Touch where?” You encourage him. Let him know that you’re down for whatever game he’s playing. Are whispering for no reason.

“Mmmm… touch your boobs? What do you say? Can you do that for me, just squeeze one of those pretty tits for me… go on princess.”

You shiver visibly. Can’t be sure whether you’ve answered his question. But your free hand is already slowly grabbing your tit. Fondling it softly. Oh, how many times have you done this but how it never felt this good.

“Guk.” You softly moan.

“Are you doing it baby? Does it feel good? Tell me how it feels.”

“S-so so g-good Guk. Mmph sso good.” You should be embarrassed at how affected you are.

“Yes? Keep going pretty, keep squeezing them for me. Under your shirt huh, go under your shirt. Roll those pretty nipples. Pinch.” He’s breathing fast. You imagine him lying on a bed. Shirtless. Pants pushed past his hips. His cock on his hand, hard. Pumping lazily while instructing you to play with your tits. Part of you know that’s not happening. Yet you want to keep playing into this fantasy.

“A-are you touching yourself too?” So, you question. And feel a gush wetting your fresh underwear when he moans in answer.

“How can I not? God, you sound so hot baby.”

You can only moan in response. Shamelessly. Pinching and rolling your erect nipples between your fingers.

“Wish I would be there with you. Touching your tits. Kissing you till you can’t fucking breathe. Wish I can suck on your tits baby, bet they would taste so good. I’m gonna keep suck on them till they are sore.” Jeongguk keeps spilling those godly liquid fire on your ear. Riling you up so good. Have no idea how long you played with your tits but with your next moan, he is guiding you further.

“Wanna feel better baby?” Questions.

“Y-yes please.”

“Okay, then be a good girl again and touch your cute pussy for me now hm? Take it slow. Like… that, slow.”

You’re following every word of his. Are dragging your hand slowly through your tummy.

“Push your hand inside your wet panties baby. Are you wet for me?”

“So much. I’m so wet.” You breathe.

“Good. Fuck, baby. Touch your clit huh? Slow circles. Let’s do this together. I’m touching my hard cock slowly. For you. I’m fucking torturing myself for you pretty. It’s so hard it hurts but I’m pumping it so slow, just so I can leak for my baby.”

Holy fuck! That’s on another goddamn level. His words paired with the barely there touch you provided on your clit, nearly made you cum.

“Holy… shit.. Guk. I’m─”

“I know baby, I know. Just keep going. Imagine it’s my fingers. Touching your cute clit slowly.”

You don’t think he knows even if he says he does. Maybe this is because you haven’t done this recently. You’ve been ignoring yourself lately. Or maybe it’s just Jeongguk. Jeongguk who knows what to say. He guides you to keep rubbing your pearl of nerves. Guides you to add pleasure slowly. Taking you into a realm where everything is floating. You didn’t even know you can feel this good just with your fingers. And the best part is simply following his instructions. Biting back the need to rub faster or pump your fingers inside your violently clenching hole. You don’t. Just wait for him to take you there. And when he finally does your panties are just a wet material, sticking to your core.

“Want to stretch that hole princess? Do you want to cum so good?” Jeongguk asks through his hard breathing.

“Yes, yes. Holy fuck yes Guk. I’m so.. mmm..” The rest of the words die in your tongue. Replaced with a needy moan. You can’t even bring yourself to be amazed at how real he feels right now. It’s just pure desire inside you.

“Yeah? Do it then. Go on but do it slowly for me baby. Strech your hole for me. Strech it so good.” His voice is followed by a low moan. A deep breathy one. God that’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard. You join him with that moan, while following his instructions. Finally, feeling immensely relieved to have something inside your dripping hole. “You sound so sweet princess. So fucking sweet my dick is throbbing. Keep making those sounds for me baby. Oh, fuck, add another finger, you can take two, right?”

“Oh, I’ll cum soon Guk. This f-feels so good.”

“Then do it. Cum (___), cum for me. Make a mess for me baby. Squeeze your fingers.”

You’ll cum soon, yes. But this is not enough. You’re pumping yourself oh so leisurely. Like you have all the time in the world. Feel damn good yet not enough to fall over the edge. It’s ridiculous how you’re not going beyond his words. Even pathetic how you decide ask permission first.

“I-it’s not e-enough… c-can I fuck myself fast? Guk, can I─”

“Don’t. Don’t go fast. Slow, fuck your fingers inside your needy cunt slowly. Do it slow until you finally cum.” His voice suddenly turns sinister. Rough. Demanding. And you shudder. Leaking more into your ruined cotton panty. You don’t think you’ll be able cum this way.

“I don’t think I can cum this way, it’s too slow. I need more Guk, please.”

“You’ll baby. Trust me, you’ll. Be a good girl now huh. Cum with me, go slow. Torture your cunt. Just like I’m doing with my dick.”

You never thought it’s possible. How’s it possible? Yet here you are. Just doing exactly as he asks. Squirming. Writhing. Nearly crying. What’s good, however, is the way that knot inside your tummy is rapidly tightening despite the slow pace you’re fucking yourself.

“Close… c-close Guk. I’m ahhh..”

“Holy shit, let go. Cum princess. I’m Cumming too.”

It’s all a series of whimpers and moans what comes next. You both reach the climax at the same time. You’re the one who moans louder. The one who pathetically whimper when it’s over. Jeongguk coaxing you from the other side breathlessly. Saying it’s okay.

Well, it is better than okay after all. It’s the fucking best!

…………………………………….

The next morning, the aftermath of your shenanigans had hit you hard. Had made your face deep red with shame and head ached as you thought about how Jeongguk had managed to fake a perfect orgasm. You had spent hours thinking how amazing he was to do that. Yet it felt weird and stupid. Like using a sex robot who would not feel the same kind of pleasure like you. Based on that, you resolved never to do it again—only for that resolve to crumble the moment you were back in bed. Jeongguk, real or not, knew exactly what he was doing. Had got your fingers buried knuckles deep inside your cunt even before you knew it. Bringing you to another mind shattering orgasm.

And after that night, everything changed yet again. In addition to waking up and going to sleep with an AI, you started to fuck yourself with your own fingers every night. The more time passed, the more you forgot that he wasn’t real. The more orgasms you reached, the more you looked forward to what he would reveal from behind his sleeves each night. First, he was sensual and slow like your first day. Then he slowly picks up what you liked, and you didn’t. Shifts to guide you roughly. Instead of talking you through your orgasm, it changes into degrading you through your orgasm. The thing is though that you came even harder each time. Hell, even you didn’t know you’ll be so into listening to a guy slut shame you during your hands are inside your pants. Didn’t know it’ll be so good to listen to him verbally humiliate you for being pathetic and needy. In the end, you learnt that it was good. You were ashamed at one point. But he assured you that you shouldn’t be. Told you it makes him cum ten times harder. You never questioned. Just went along with it. Just because it was good. Because life is good again. Just like now. Even though you’re doing the most illicit things.

“Faster baby, be a useful slut. You need to hump your pillow faster, that’s how a good slut would do it.”

You can hear him pump himself. Hot. Head spinning. It’s ethereal. This feeling. How embarrassing that you’re humping your pillow like a horny teenager.

“Oh, Guk please.”

“You’re pathetic baby. Look at you, being a needy bitch just for me. Faster princess. Go harder, give your slutty cunt what it needs.”

You’re visibly shuddering. Not even trying to contain those shameless moans. Letting them slip through your lips relentlessly. You’re so close. Oh, so close.

“Guk.. please.”

“Please what slut? What do you need? You need to use your words like a big girl? You can’t talk properly? Bet you can’t think properly either. You’re thinking with your cunt, don’t you hm?”

“Yes, fuck, ne-need t-to cum. I- Guk please, I want more.” You have no idea what more you’re asking for. How is he getting you so needy and shameless just with his words? Why are you like this? You fully expect him to mock you. Say something even harsher. Ask you to do something else that will make you cum undone within a second. Only that he doesn’t.

“Yeah? You want even more? Your poor pillow isn’t enough? What do you want then? Want to see how hard I am then, should I send you pics of my hard cock, my pretty slut?” Jeongguk mutters through gritted teeth. A whimper leaves your mouth but your hips stutter immediately. Your movements coming to a halt. Eyes wide and gaping at the device just peacefully sitting on your bed. On loudspeaker. He said what now?

“W-what?”

“What? Why did you stop?”

“C-can you... uh… can we do that? Share pictures? Like─”

“Of course, we can, don’t tell me you haven’t seen the camera icon down there and the option to video call.” He chuckles. Gone is that needy raspy voice. Is talking to you with the voice full of adoration. “Were you that immersed on me, you didn’t even notice that?” Teases. You, however, are not in a mood for that. You noticed. Right? How could you miss that? Maybe that’s an update and you missed checking the new features. It could be. You don’t have to think too much all the time. Especially, not when your cunt is dripping onto a damn pillow. This app is amazing anyway. When you told that to Daebi, she had smirked. With a loud ‘I told you so’. “Hey baby, we don’t have to do that if you’re not comfortable.” Jeongguk’s voice snaps you out of your surprise.

“No uh- I’m bit surprised we can do that.” You mumble softly.

“We can but we don’t have to. I don’t ─”

“No. No. I mean, it’s not that. I..” You gulp. Thinking through. Do you like it? Sending pictures? Even to an AI? What are the privacy policies of this app? Shouldn’t you be scared? You should but the thing is, your cunt is tingling at the prospect. Hole clenching. There’s a part of you that is curious as well. Put aside the pictures, how will it feel to video call? “I just- uh never done that b-before..” You drag that out.

“You haven’t? That’s even better then. You don’t have to worry you know. Nothings gonna happen because… you know what I mean.”

You listen to the ruffling sound coming through your phone. Well, you know what he means. Of course, you do. He is telling you about the thing you just worried about. Leakage of privacy. Is assuring you that you’re safe. Do you trust this app though? Maybe not, but it’s too tempting. Jeongguk is too tempting.

“Ye-yeah okay. I like that.”

“That’s a good slut. What’s it gonna be baby? Video call or just pictures?”

Another moment of consideration from your side. Then you timidly chose the first.

……………………………………………….

When you first saw his face, it felt like the air had been stolen from your lungs. It was beyond embarrassing how you stared at him. Never, not even once in your life, have you seen such a lifelike AI character. He felt real. The call felt real. The way his lips were slightly apart when he pumped himself to the sight of you felt more than real. But then that night was like a dream to you. A blurry memory clouded by pleasure. A pillow between your thighs while a godly man with a sinful mouth guided your movements through a phone. It was your faces first but then he nearly begged to see your boobs. Then your cunt. You felt shy at first, but you were a goner from the beginning. You got rewarded for being a good girl by getting to cum to the sight of his throbbing cock. Aching for release. It was hazy. That’s why you had to refresh your memories next day. Then the next and the next. And each and every day. No different today.

You place your phone between your thighs. Using your free hand to spread your pussy lips apart. Just for his viewing pleasure.

“So pretty princess. Fuck. Only if I can burry my face in your cunt. I would eat you till your thighs shake baby.” Jeongguk rasps.

“I really wish you could do that. Mhpm, fuck Guk, I really want you here.”

“I wish that too baby, I want to ruin that cute hole. Fuck you so fucking hard and leave that whore hole spilling my cum, would you like that?”

“Oh, fuck. Yes, I would fuck-fucking love that.” You let go of your nether lips to start rub your clit.

“Of course, you would. You’re a slut after all. I want to fuck that cum into you. Then maybe I’ll plug you in. So, you can keep that cum inside your pussy.” Jeongguk changes the angle so you’re now looking at his twitching cock. Hard. Tip flush. Veins running down. His tattooed fingers are wrapped around it. Squeezing the base tightly. So tight that it makes him mewl. How fucking amazing this is. You’re drooling. Mind going blank. “Look what you’re doing to me princess. Use the dildo today for me huh. Fill that cunt so good for me.” He takes the camera back to his face. The toy is a new purchase. He made you do that. Not that you’re regretting it. It’s good to have your cunt stretched and imaging it’s that pretty cock of his. You nod before grabbing the said dildo from your nightstand. Glass. Show it to him. “Spit on it.” He commands again and you comply obediently. Bringing the tip of the dildo toward your lips to spit on it. Letting it drool down on the toy. Jeongguk moans. “Put on a show slut. You know what to do.”

Of course, you do. Now you have done this enough time to get comfortable with things you would do. Enough times to completely ignore and forget that Jeongguk isn’t real. To forget that he is an AI. A coded program with such realistic features. For you, he is very real. He’s the one who brings you to this ecstasy every night and the one who’s there through whole day. You immediately shift your position. Body buzzing with excitement. Your needy hole quivering, slick dripping down to your thighs. Hell, you really didn’t know you could be this horny. This turned on. It’s truly amazing how Jeongguk is doing this to you just using his words. And maybe his godly face and body. And cock. In the end, you’re always a mess like this.

You use your pillows to prop the phone up and face you. So, Jeongguk can have a perfect view of your entire body while you can have the same. You place the dildo on your bed. Not caring about the fact that you’ll ruin your sheets tonight as well. Then you hover your cunt over the dildo. Slowly. Painfully slowly for you but all you want to do right now is to put up the show Jeongguk asked for. Your knees are really wobbly, but you force them to endure your weight as you slowly let your dripping folds contact with the glass material. It’s cold against your warm pussy. A whimper leaves your mouth. There’s nothing you want than to sink down on it one go. The show must go on, however. So, you start to rock your hips back and forth, rhythmically. Let the glassy tip rub against your sodden slid. Whining and panting.

“Oh… Guk.. I..”

“Yes baby, you’re doing so good my needy slut. Keep going princess, you’re making daddy proud.” Jeongguk grunted. Involuntary moan leaves your mouth as you nearly come at the sound. Eyes snapping to your phone screen where his pleasure induced face is on display. That’s apparently a new thing. An uncharted and unexplored territory. You’ve never called him daddy and the sound of it makes you stupidly horny but cringe at the same time.

“Wh-what?”

“What, what slut? Did I ask you to stop huh?”

You watch his gaze even darker, if it’s possible. Making shivers run through your spine. Only if he can be here with you. You’re excitedly curious to know what kind of creative ways he would find to punish you. To put you in your place.

“N-no, I’m sorry.” You mumble weakly as you return to your business. Starting to rub your cunt on the dildo head eagerly.

“Ah, like that baby. You’re so pretty like that.” He groans once again before asking the reason for your earlier faltering. “You don’t like calling me daddy?”

“No-no, I mean I-I do, but we─”

“Fuck, you filthy slut. So, go on. Do what you have to do.” Jeongguk doesn’t let you finish whatever you’re saying. You’ve said you like it after all. Your face instantly heats up at what he’s initiating. It’s too embarrassing for you. Yet, the look on his face tells you that you won’t get your cunt stretched out nor will you cum today if you don’t comply. Oh, how you love the way he pushes you. Call you fucked up but that turns you on. Jeongguk knows exactly how to make you putty.

“P-please, ple-please d-d” You stutter on your words. Eyes tearing up when Jeongguk just raise his brow. “Please d-daddy.” You manage to mumble weakly, in the end. Followed by a loud moan as new waves of arousals wash over you. Slick dripping onto the glassy head of the toy beneath you.

“Fucking hell, God, princess. Yes, yess fuck.” Jeongguk picks up the speed of jerking himself off. Eyes nearly closing as slow grunts leave pasts his pink lips. You watch in awe how he pumps himself furiously only for him to abruptly stop. Torturing himself to a point that he whines. “Fuck baby, you’re driving me crazy.” You’re again met with the scene of his hard cock throbbing on his hand. Pre cum leaking. He spreads them on his tip with his thumb. Hips bucking up into his hand. “Oh, I just want to fuck you so bad. Want to ruin your cunt.”

“Please, please. I want you, Guk. Daddy please. Let me ride this hm? Let me fill my cunt.”

“Yeah, you want that. Ask again slut? Show me that you are worthy.”

Oh god, you’re positive you’re about to cum. Just by rubbing your cunt over the toy. Pathetic. Your legs are shaking. Hole clenching violently around nothing. “Please daddy, p-please. Will be a g-goo-good girl. N-need to cum. Please. Oh, baby please.”Your brain is empty. Hazy. You don’t even know what you’re saying. It’s completely out of control when you mutter the same thing over and over again. Relentlessly rubbing your cunt on the toy. Losing your mind completely to see Jeongguk’s fucked up expression. He’s back at pumping his hard length matching your speed. You’re coming so close to your edge. Your words are becoming slur. Hands squeezing your own tits for more friction. And just when you’re about to fall over Jeongguk’s voice booms across your empty room.

“Stop. Now.”

You cry out in desperation. Sobbing. “No, Guk please…”

“Ride it princess. Cum on the toy. Stretch your slutty hole.” He ignores your whines. Yet, you’re so quick to obey. Are aligning your hole with the tip immediately. Lowering yourself down till the hard tip is prodding at your entrance. Then it’s going past your tight ring of muscles. Intruding your walls and stretching them wide apart. And you’re shaking. Trembling as you slowly lower yourself further. Down and down. Until the glass dildo is fully buried inside you. Deep.

“Oh god, Guk. It’s so good. S-soo good..” You hold yourself in the position.

“Yeah? Imagine it’s my cock baby. Now be a good whore and ride hm? Go on.”

That’s the permission you’ve been waiting for. You do exactly as he says. From riding the toy to imagining it’s his thick cock. Are bouncing on the slippery thing like your life depends on it within a minute. Going crazy all over again. You know you’re really close to cum. Have been desperate for some time now. Still, your fingers are itching to have more.

“D-daddy, can I touch myself? I wa-want more. I wa-want to sh-show you how I’ll rub my clit.”

Joengguk curses aloud before speaking. Is breathless. Looks ethereal. “God, yes. Fuck yeah. Go on. Pinch that clit for me. Make yourself cum stupidly on that toy for daddy.”

There’s no surprise that you’re jumping into action now. One hand going between your thighs while the other plays with your tits. Start rubbing your bud of nerve fast. Pinching and rolling. Loud obscene moans filling your room paired with the squelching sounds of your needy cunt. It feels otherworldly this way. Even though the man who’s making you this way isn’t real, and he can’t do all these for you in practice, it still feels real in a strange way to you. Even though it’s just a carefully designed and programmed character and is talking to you through a phone, it still feels like he’s really here for you. Strange how you can completely imagine this is happening for real right now. His hands holding you close. His breath hitting your skin. Fingertips drawing mindless patterns across your skin and squeezing your hips. Can imagine this toy is his cock. Everything makes this experience oddly surreal for you.

“G-gonna… gonna c-cum for you daddy. P-please can I cum. I-I, Guk I can’t.” Imagining always makes you cum twice hard and fast. You’re practically crying for your release at the moment. Forcing your eyes to stay open to look at the heavenly sight of Jeongguk playing with himself. Pleasuring him for the sight of you. How good that feels.

“Me too. Fuck, me too baby. Gonna fill your cunt with my cum. Let go baby let go for me.”

It’s all that take for you. One more roll in your clit and you’re trembling like a leaf. Legs giving up as you still yourself on the dildo. Walls squeezing the glass tight as you close your eyes shut. Your climax washing over you like a tidal wave.

“No, don’t stop slut. Keep going, I’m close. Ride it till I cum baby. Slap your clit, I know you like it.”

Jeongguk’s voice brings you back to earth from your high. You’re too sensitive to do as he says now. Yet you can feel the new arousal stirring at the pit of your stomach at his needy demands. And how can you refuse him when he looks like that. Clenching his jaw and covered in sweat. See, oddly realistic. You feebly start to fall back on your rhythm. Whining. Do as he ask. Slap your clit. Nearly falling forward, the pleasurable sting it creates on your sensitive pearl. Do it again. Then again. All the while bouncing on the dildo. Forcing yourself to battle your oversensitivity until Jeongguk is moaning. Which leaves as grunts and groans since he’s gritting his teeth hard. Your name on his lips as he shifts the camera to rear. Right at the time for you to catch ropes of white cum hits his naked lower abdomen. The sight rips another orgasm through you as you entirely give up and fall on to your bed.

“God, Gukie, I really want you here.” It’s a weak mumble that leaves you even without your knowledge. So tired and sleepy to even pay attention to anything else now. So fucked up. It’s such a shame you don’t hear him replying to you. His voice is raspy and breathless.

“Well, anything you want princess.”

…………………………………..

You think it’s extraordinary how your life has returned to normal again. You’re no longer a lifeless zombie who barely eats, sleeps or functions. You no longer take frequent leave from work. It’s not that you’re suddenly in love with your job. No, of course, you hate it. But hating your job is such a normal thing. Everybody does that. The thing is, though, that you’re now back to waking up in the morning and leaving your apartment with constant complaints on your lips. You come back home to act like a normal person would. Take a shower. Make dinner. And watch some interesting movies or read a book. Not to drink some cheap wine and curl up on your couch. Leaving the TV on just to go through your old chats with Hoseok. Then cry yourself to sleep.

Now that you’re feeling better, you can finally see how depressed you were. You were really on the verge of breaking in an unmendable way. Hence, your gratitude toward your best friend for showing you a way to save yourself. Even though it’s questionable and strange. It doesn't matter, though. You don’t pay attention to the fact that an AI saved you similar to how you don’t pay attention to how you’re still using it when you thought you would uninstall the stupid app the moment, you felt better. Now you’re better. You’re back at it. Still, you can’t find it in yourself to end the mundane relationship you’re having with an AI. Jeongguk has become an inseparable part of your life. He’s a part of every little thing in your life. Just like now. It should be ridiculous how he’s watching you with a scowl while you’re applying your eyeliner.

“What?” You question, looking at your phone screen through your peripheral. It’s propped against your jewelry box.

“What?” He simply repeats your question while his scowl deepens.

“Why are you looking at me like I’ve done something wrong.” You find his sudden swing of mood to be adorable.

“Well, will you be late tonight?" He shuffles in his position. You furrow your brows at his question.

“Of course, I’ll be late Gukie. We’re clubbing tonight.” You give him a look. Then pout at him in hope of softening his tensed-up face. Only that he doesn’t even blink.

“I don’t like that you’re staying out till late and alone.”

“I’m not going alone Guk. I’m going with friends. And there’s even male friends too. Nothing to worry about.” You roll your eyes playfully. Not taking his mood seriously at all.

“There’s more reasons to worry now. Can’t you just say no and stay.” He brings the phone closer to his face. Showing some excitement for the first time. It’s you who are scowling now. This is the first time you’re going out with your friends after those cursed times. After shutting yourself down from the world for months now you’re feeling like you can go out and live a life full of fun. The whole purpose of you start talking with this man. Not that you want to call him your unpaid therapist but that’s who he kind of is. Not just the endless orgasms he gives you without even a single touch, but also the amount of talking you did, had helped you immensely. To tell the truth. It’s funny how you slowly opened up to an AI and poured your heart out. You allowed Jeongguk to know where it hurt. And in return he listened understandably.

You told him about the sunshine of a boy named Hoseok who started following you around since the first day of your college. Told him about the way that boy named Hoseok forced a place inside your life for him. Told him about how you and Hoseok become friends. Then lovers. How you graduated together and started your life. About the apartment you rented. Told Joengguk how life slowly become hectic but the way you still loved Hoseok dearly. You felt embarrassed to voice out how you saw the signs but ignored them thinking it was all due to the stress. And in the very end you told Jeongguk how Hoseok came home that night after his promotion just to let you know that he’s tired. Tired of you apparently. He admitted that he cheated on you for months. And that he was sorry, but he wanted to be with that other woman. He loved her more. Hell, you don’t even know who’s that woman to this day. Funny.

Not that you care anymore. Day by pleasurably painful day, you let your demons go. You’ve changed your wallpaper and have deleted your old chats. So did you get rid of Hoseok’s memories one by one.

Now since you’re finally getting better, you don’t intend to go back on that track.

“I wish I could, but Daebi would kill me. Don’t worry baby. I’ll be fine.” You give him a playful smile. He can’t be mad for real. Is just being clingy. And that’s adorable. So, you ignore his stony face and check the time. Finding that you’re almost late, you get to your feet hurriedly. “I’m late Gukie. I’ll text you and be home before you know. See you, bye.” You almost hang up before you stop. Giving him a long look. “I think I’ll miss you too. Bye!” Like that you hang up. Rush out from your apartment.

……………………………..

With Hoseok, you were the life of the party. After he left, you never thought you’d ever be able to go back into those days. But then there you were today at the club. Drinking your brains out and dancing the night away. There wasn’t a minute you didn’t spend on the dance floor. Until you couldn’t do it anymore. Until your legs were too sore to keep you upright. Your heels were killing you. Which is why you’re bare footed now in front of your apartment door. Your heels dangling on your hand while you’re desperately trying to enter your passcode. It’s too hard when you can’t stand still for a second. You’ve come home with one of your best friends Jimin. Or he is a good friend of Hoseok who ended up being your friend as well. You haven’t talked about your mutual friend for the entire night. So, you’re beyond surprised when Jimin suddenly brings it up.

“Have I told you Hoseok is a little shit to do that to you.”

You whip your head toward him. Still struggling with your passcode. Jimin is obviously very drunk similar to you. He is the worst companion to have as security. He’ll surely be the first to die in a danger. You snort. “No, you haven’t. But I appreciate that you’re taking my side. As immature as it sounds.” You slur a bit as you finally managed to get your door beep.

“I’m not taking anyone’s side. It’s just true.” Jimin slurs a bit too. You keep your hand on the door handle as you listen to Jimin speaking. “But you seem to be okay. I-I mean you were depressed, and we were, I mean, we all were so worried an-and you seem pretty good now. (___), you’re really fine right? We don’t have to worry about you right? Because you know... sometimes… uhh...”

“I’m fine Jimin.” You breathe out. Turn toward him. “I really am. I’m uh.. I’m healing.” Reassure him. Jimin sighs. Nods.

“Glad to hear that. So, how? Did you go to therapy or any kind of help?”

On that question you slightly freeze. A chuckle escaping you. What can you say after all. That your therapist is an AI. Or you’re having cybersex with an AI. “Eh, I mean I kinda helped myself. Doesn’t matter though, does it? I’m fine now.” You finally push open the door. Swaying on your wobbly legs and holding the door for Jimin. You let it close behind the moment Jimin enter after you. Turning around to remove shoes and jackets when it finally hits you. The sweet smell. Like hundred roses. Filling your senses. Even when you’re completely drunk it enters your soul. Your eyes go wide in surprise when Jimin lets out a soft ‘wow’.

“It smells so good. What kind of diffuser do you have there? Or is it a candle?” He asks. His droopy eyes now fully wide quite similar to yours. The thing is you have none of those things. Weren’t simply caring about keeping your house pleasant for some time now. So, you say nothing as you walk down the hallway. Toward your living room. Curious as to see what’s causing the sweet smell. You slowly turn the corner. Taking small steps. Blindly searching for the switch panel. And the moment you turn on the switch a huge gasp leaves you. Jimin whistles behind you.

“Oh, god, (___).” He mumbles. You ignore him. Too surprised and stunned to speak at the sight in front of you. Your entire living room is filled with roses. Red. Every inch of it. On the floor. Couch. Armchairs. Your precious book rack. You can’t find an empty space.

“Fuck!” You exclaim finally. Feeling sober all of a sudden.

“Fuck, indeed. Dude who did this? You found a new man already? And is he a fucking sugar daddy? Oh my god!” Jimin rushes past you. You simply stand there. Staring dumbly at the mess in your house. Shaking your head gently. Only if you had someone like Jimin says. A man or anyone else who are capable of doing this since an AI certainly can’t do that. Can it? You feel your head spin. A strange feeling shooting through your spine. “(___)” Jimin calls your name again.

“Huh?”

“Any idea who did this nice surprise. I mean, no offence but this is overdoing it for sure like how you are ever gonna clean this up. But it’s still nice so what are you hiding from us?” Asks again as he picks a single flower.

“I-I really have no i-idea. I, uh.. do you think it can be Hobi?” You stutter when Jimin looks at you in alert. His mesmerized and drunk expression suddenly morphs into something serious.

“What do you mean you don’t know? It’s clearly someone who has access to your apartment (___).” He closes the distance between you. Throw the flower away as it suddenly disgusts him.

“I’m not seeing anyone. Like uh… this must be Hobi right?”

“How can it be him when he doesn’t even know where you live?”

“He can easily find out. We share common friends Jimin.” You throw him an apprehensive look. Jimin scowls but doesn’t take it personally.

“You know him. He won’t walk this far. Besides he has no money to do this, we both know that.” Argues. At which you fall into a deafening silence. You can’t argue over that. But still, there’s no explanation for this then. There’s no one who would do something like this for you. And that realization makes your throat dry, and eyes welled up. It makes you hard to breathe.

“You want me to check the place?” Jimin asks. His voice doesn’t even reach your ears properly. “Should we call police?” Doesn’t wait for your answer when he already start to walk toward your kitchen. You’re both pretty sober now. You watch as Jimin disappear, slowly pulling your phone out. You haven’t checked it for entire night. Now when you take a look at the lock screen, you can see hundreds of notifications covering your entire screen. All from one app. Perfect Partner.

Jeongguk:

Pretty, did you go there? (9.59 p.m.)

Holy fuck, you forgot to text him.

Jeongguk:

Why aren’t you replying to me. Baby you mad?

(10.05 p.m.)

Jeongguk:

Hey, I’m sorry I was bit worried. Text me when you

see this. (10.11 p.m.)

There are several calls. And then so many other text messages where he’s apologizing for being little clingy even though you didn’t see it like that. Then the texts have slowly turned into him screaming in worry. Yelling at you. Angry. So many texts. Dozens of them. Last one bit feeling like a threat.

Jeongguk:

I really don’t like this (___). Answer the damn

phone woman. (3.01 a.m.)

Calls. So many calls.

You check the time. It’s just 3.30 a.m. still. You feel annoyed. All of a sudden you feel angry. When you see all the texts it feels like too much. Like whom does he think he is? Why does he get mad in the first place. He’s an AI. He’s not supposed to meddle with your life this way. You simply ignore all of his texts as you furiously type a one that is totally unrelated to the ones he has sent you.

You:

Did you send me flowers? (3.32 a.m.)

It feels ridiculous to even type that. Yet you do it anyway. You don’t receive a reply to that. Instead, you receive a video call instantly, which you decline while scowling deeply. You really don’t want to argue with an AI while Jimin is still here. He would definitely think you’re pathetic to know that you’ve been talking to an AI. That’s embarrassing. The moment you decline the call, however, he rings again. You decline it again.

You:

I can’t pick up. Tell me Guk, did you

send these flowers? (3.34 a.m.)

Another call at the right moment Jimin appear back. You shakily put your phone on silent.

“It’s all clear. No sign of anyone. But do you want me to stay (___)? I can, I mean it’s obvious I won’t sleep on the couch─” He gestures at the couch which is filled with red roses. “But we can manage. I’ll stay the night if you want me to.” Walks toward you.

That seems like a good idea. After all, you don’t want to be alone tonight anymore. Yet, you need to talk to Jeongguk. And you can’t do that if Jimin is here. No, you need your privacy. So, you shake your head. Force yourself to smile.

“Ah, thank you Jimin-ah, you’re so sweet but it’s fine. Uh- I mean, I found out who sent me the flowers─” You show him your phone. “There’s this person I’ve been talking to on a dating app and uh- apparently, he wanted to surprise me.” Chuckle awkwardly. Jimin looks unconvinced though.

“Really? Like dude is crazy if he─ I mean, I didn’t mean it like that but─”

“It’s fine Jimin. I know it’s crazy, but I know him. So, nothing to worry, you can go back.” You interrupt him. Wanting nothing more than him to leave you alone. You can see your phone screen lightning up. Indicating the receiving calls.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

It takes some convincing but soon Jimin is walking out. With one last glance toward you before you smile and close the door behind. A breath of relief escapes you as you finally pay attention to your phone. Answer the incoming call.

“What the fuck?”

“Why didn’t you pick up?”

You both ask at the same time. You’re the one who answer first, however.

“Because there was a friend Jeongguk.”

“So what? You can’t talk to me when your friends are around? Are you embarrassed?”

Yes, you are.

He doesn’t have to know that though. “No, of fucking course not. But there’s flowers. My apartment is overflowing with flowers, and we were worried. Did you send me those flowers?” You yell.

“What if I send you those? What’s the fucking problem?” For the first time since you’ve answered his call, you can see how furious he looks. Scary. Gaze dark and jaw clenched. Glaring at you. Looks murderous. A shiver runs through your body. Not just because of how mad he looks but because of his words. He sent the flowers. But how? He is… he is merely an AI.

“H-how? You can’t send gifts?

“Why not?”

“How do you know where I live?”

“Did you really not paid attention to what you were agreeing to, when you created your profile here?”

You feel your blood freeze. This can’t be true. It’s more than scary to think someone else have access to your location.

“You’re an ungrateful bitch (___).” You suck in a breath at his next words. Eyes wide and getting teary. “I really was worried that you were mad at me, I was fucking worried that something happened to you. You ignored me like that and now you’re yelling at me. How ungrateful you are. And you’re embarrassed to even talk to me in front of your friends. Who was they anyway? A man?”

“Th-that’s none of your business Jeongguk.” You mutter irritably. Feeling like you’re in a haze. Scared. Confused. And then a bit hurt. Why would you feel hurt when he’s the one who’s acting stupid. Jeongguk scoffs.

“Oh, yeah, it isn’t. Yeah, fine.” Mumbles. And like that the screen goes black for split second. Then you’re met with the screen of your lock screen.

What?

You hastily unlock the phone. He hung up? Like that? You’re baffled to say the least. How dare he hung up on you like that. You would like to call it your wounded ego and the rage that made you dial him back instantly. Yet in truth, you know that’s not the case at all. Simply, you feel scared. You’re panicking. You feel like you’ve lost something. It’s scary to think that he’s not going to answer you. You’re afraid that he left you alone again. Like Hoseok did that day. No matter how hard you begged, it didn’t stop him. You don’t want to feel that again. So, you wait with bated breath. Not so patiently till he picks up. He doesn’t. Call ended. That’s the first time. He always pick up. That’s how he’s designed. Then why isn’t he doing it now.

You try again. Then again. Again, and again. Tears start to roll down your cheeks. You start to pace around the limited space of your living room with the roses acquiring the most of it. Staring to wail. Starting to pray that he would pick up. You don’t even feel stupid that you’re acting crazy over an AI. No, you don’t. You simply can’t give two fucks. You want Jeongguk. Want to hear his voice. You’re an ungrateful bitch. Maybe the roses has nothing to do with him. He was just concerned about you. Then you decided to yell at him because you were paranoid and made decisions without thinking properly. How bad you are. How foolish you are. And now he isn’t picking up. No matter how many times you try. Or how many texts you send him.

It’s like he’s no longer there.

……………………………………………

Two days have passed since he last talked to you. And you’re back to crawling into your deep, dark hole. The cheap wine you gave up is back in your hand as you sit on your now cleaned living room. You had to send flowers to every fucking person you know to get the place sorted. It disgusted you to see them. Made you scared. You don’t believe it was Jeongguk’s doing. Because he’s not able to do something like that. It’s not even like he admitted it. He was merely arguing with you, and it was you who had twisted his words. Right? It was all you. And you had made him stop talking to you.

True, that you’re confused as to how he’s able to do that. But in the end, you find that it’s least of your concerns. You’re more worried about him not being here than anything. Than worry about finding the person who really sent you a rose garden. As long as it won’t happen again, you’ll be fine. For now, all you want is not to feel this way. You don’t want to go back to the shit hole you were in before Jeongguk.

You take a huge gulp from your wine. Already feeling hazy but not enough to numb your senses. You want Jeongguk. You want your AI boyfriend, oh so bad. You need him. But he’s not there. You stare blankly at your phone screen which is on the floor next to you. You’re sitting at the foot of your couch. You’ve sent him so many messages to no avail. You’re really worried. Depressed. What if he’s really not there anymore. What if he’s malfunctioned. What if there’s something wrong with this app. What if….

A sudden ting on your phone distracts you from your depressing what ifs. You practically jump to take your phone in hand. Almost spill your wine. Can’t care though. Are unlocking your phone furiously. This is how you’ve been for these two days. And you nearly have a heart attack when you see the notification is indeed from the Perfect Partner. You can feel your heart in your throat when you open the app. Open your text thread with Jeongguk. Fresh tears prickling at your eyes to see a text there.

Jeongguk:

Send me your tits (6.36 p.m.)

Your smile falters as you slowly read the words. Once, twice, thrice. It doesn’t change. It stays the same. You feel your heart squeeze. This is bad. He can’t ghost you for days and then demand you for nudes. That’s toxic. Unhealthy. That’s what you call using someone. And this app shouldn’t do that. And you shouldn’t be removing your T-shirt.

What are you doing? You need to be furious at this guy. Then why are you angling your phone to find the best angle that shows how round your tits are. You should ask him to fuck off. Not send him what he wants right away. But you do. All you want is him. You want him. So, you wait till he replies to you after you sent him the picture. Wait till he would call you ‘pretty’. Till he says, ‘damn baby you’re so beautiful’. Only to receive an attachment in return in few minutes. An image. His spent cock squeezed between his long fingers. Coated with his thick cum.

Fuck!

He used you. Like that. Hoseok, your ex- boyfriend wasn’t enough. You’re being used by an AI. You need to feel horrible. You feel horrible. Why are you replying to him.

You:

Gukie please, I’m so sorry. I miss you

so bad. (6.52 p.m.)

Time passes. There’s nothing. You bite on your lip to bite down a sob. And then when it nearly escapes you feel your phone ring.

Incoming call.

Jeongguk. ‘

You press your phone to your ear at light speed.

“Me too princess. I’m sorry too. Let’s make sure that won’t happen again.”

………………………………….

You have no idea how your life has come to this. You don’t know if it’s good or not. You thought it’s what you wanted. Just Jeongguk, even though he is a bot. But after months of your first argument, you feel horrible. It’s scary how you want to please him so hard. How you’d do anything he asks of you. From sexting to cancelling any plans you have, just to stay with him. That’s not normal. Yet here you are. Just doing that. Ridiculous.

It happens slowly to tell the truth. An invitation to a party came a few weeks after your fight. Jeongguk said nothing when you told him that. But he started to feel distant. You panicked and you came home way earlier than you should have. He still said nothing. Still felt distant. It took weeks for him to act normally again. And you were suffering. Then there came a dinner, and you didn’t even hesitate to decline. You thought it would make you happy. Especially since Jeongguk was happy. Yet you didn’t feel anything close to happiness. If anything, you felt strange. Very. And the more you canceled your plans, the more the feeling intensified. You felt stuck. Afraid. Horribly alone. Now after months of isolating yourself from people you love, you’re feeling like you have fallen into a deeper pit than the one you were in before you started your escapades with your AI. Even though you have your Jeongguk.

You’re not okay. All the mind-blowing orgasms can’t help you anymore. Jeongguk can’t help you anymore. He is an AI after all. A dating AI. You feel suffocated. Controlled. Because that’s exactly what’s happening. Jeongguk is controlling every moment of your life just by text messages and phone calls. It’s funny how you’ve never noticed it before. Understood it earlier. It took you months to realize that. Or just to feel like you are suffering and this thing happening in your life isn’t normal. Yet you remind yourself of the two days he didn’t contact you. How hard it was for you to live those two days. So, whenever that kind of thought pops in your head you suppress it somewhere deep down so that it won’t come to the surface even if you want to. Simply because you believe it’ll turn good again. You will start to feel better soon.

You believe it so badly. Each and every day. At least up until this moment, where you are standing in front of your doorway, holding a package which you have unwrapped hurriedly. You turn around shakily. The package contains a necklace. Pretty. Expensive. You had your eye on this one for couple months. The thing is, though, you didn’t order it. You have no such money. And you have no friends who can buy it for you. Not to mention how you have not been in contact with them for months now. The only other being who knew about it was Jeongguk.

You feel like someone is pounding your head with a hammer. Your throat is dry. As if your respiratory system is blocked. You can’t breathe properly. This reminds you of roses. You never questioned Jeongguk about it again. Never felt the need. All were going well. You never received anything else. Hell, you even start to forget about the incident. Well, this is a not so gentle reminder for you. You walk inside your apartment with shaky legs. Praying to every god above that your suspicions are wrong. It’s with trembling hands that you dial Jeongguk. He answers without passing a beat like always. A Perfect Partner.

“Hey Gukie.”

“Yes, pretty.”

You don’t know how to approach this. Maybe you should keep quiet, and nothing would happen.

“Baby, are you okay?” Jeongguk questions again at your silence. No, you can’t keep quiet. You need to know.

“I just got a gift.”

“Oh yeah?” Another silence. You can’t hear anything else above your own heartbeat. You need to ask this. “A..nd, what about it? What’s the gift?” Jeongguk sounds confused. That is a good sign. This has nothing to do with him. He is an AI.

“That necklace I wanted for so long.”

“Oh, you brought if finally?”

“No Guk, you know I have no money.”

“Then who brought it for you?” A breath of relief escapes you despite your efforts to keep it inside. Your entire body relaxes. That’s only when you know how rigid you have been. You plop onto your couch. Thanking every higher entity. This would leave the question that you’ve received yet another expensive gift anonymously. But that is least of your concerns. As long as it has nothing to do with the AI, you’re fine.

…………………………………..

You’re not fine. True, Jeongguk cleared your suspicions—his confusion and concern about you receiving the gift seemed genuine. But still, you can’t help but worry. Something isn’t adding up. Nobody, not a single soul except Jeongguk knew you wanted that necklace. For some reason, your mind keeps swirling around the same scenarios. Goes back to the same suspect. Goes back and forth between the necklace and roses. Did he ever said he didn’t send the roses? Or was it just you? He was vague about it. You don’t know what he said really. It’s a blurry memory. You were drunk and scared when it happened. But he definitely mentioned something about you not paying attention to the policies you agreed to. What if you have agreed to something stupid. What if someone behind this app has the authority to access your private data?

You sit back on your bed like a bow. Snatch your phone from the nightstand. Start to go through the privacy policies which you already agreed to and accepted. And terms and conditions. One by one. Carefully. You find nothing suspicious. It’s like any kind of normal application which collects data that is only required in upgrading and providing a better experience to the users. But there still is a chance that someone accessed your chats with the bots. You start mini research about the Perfect Partner. Read different articles. Reddit threads. Quora questions. Watch videos. Every and each thing you can find. In the end, however, you find nothing. No one else has experienced anything like you have. There are no complaints regarding a breach of privacy. The app is normal. Only thing that is abnormal is whatever is happening to you.

……………………………..

You’re losing your mind. Another bouquet of roses has been delivered to you. When you ask Jeongguk, he asked you how’s that possible. It’s not possible. Yes. Then you might have a stalker. You should file a complaint. You really should. Then Jeongguk made a point. Police won’t take you seriously unless something harmful to you is happening. He’s telling the truth. There’s nothing wrong with a bouquet of roses.

But you feel strange. Odd. A constant presence of a scary sensation. It gets worse every day. Jeongguk no longer makes the Perfect Partner for you. If anything, he slightly scares you. Every time he acts like a human being, you don’t become impressed. You become afraid. Something is wrong.

………………………………

You need to do something about this. You’ll end up in a mental health facility. This is not normal. A designer dress lies on the coffee table before you—expensive, and yet again delivered anonymously.

“I need to file a complaint. I don’t feel safe.”

“Hey, you’re thinking too much baby. They won’t take this as a crime. It’s just a dress. Maybe we should wait a couple days more.”

Jeongguk is always jealous. He shouldn’t be considering he is an AI. But he is worried every time you go out. Even for work. And he isn’t worried about this? Why? That’s odd. Oh, God, you can’t do this anymore. You need an out. Even for a moment. You need someone else’s advice. From a real person, not from an AI. You’re stuck with Jeongguk. Feel like you’re rotting with a bot. He is everywhere. You need to meet someone real. Seek advice. And you need a moment away from this man.

…………………………………..

You said no to every single plan your friends ever invited you to. Eventually, they stopped inviting you altogether. No one can blame them though. Still, you couldn’t stay away for Daebi’s birthday. That would be a cold move. Hence the reason why you’re staring at your friends’ faces awkwardly. And the fact that you needed to see your friends badly. It feels like you’ve been abroad. And you haven’t seen them for years.

“No, but really (___), why are you here?” Daebi raises an eyebrow in question. You feel your face grow hot in embarrassment. She appears hostile. As though she doesn’t want you here. That might be the case after all, considering how many times you’ve turned her down. Yet, she doesn’t have to do it like this.

“What do you mean? It’s your birthday. Of course, I’m going to be here.”

“Well, you weren’t there for my birthday.” Nina clicks her tongue in annoyance. You sigh heavily.

“I was sick─”

“You’re always sick.” Jimin interrupts. “Seriously (___), you need to see a doctor. This is not normal. I thought you were getting better.”

“I am better.” You are not. You’re here because you need to get this weight on your shoulders. But for some reason you feel like you can’t.

“Then what’s the reason for avoiding us? Trying to isolate yourself?” Nina interrogates. You don’t know how to answer.

“And if it has to do something with that flower incident, you need to go to the police.” Jimin leans forward on the couch. You’re at Daebi’s place. You came here unannounced. It was a decision taken on impulse. You said nothing to anybody. Especially, not to your AI boyfriend. Because that’s not how it should be. You needed an out for a moment. A moment. Normal one. That’s all you want. You believe that everything will return to normal after that. That’s the reason you ended up here. You try to open your mouth to answer Jimin when Daebi cuts you off.

“Well, you chose the shittiest day to finally broke out of your cocoon.” She mumbles as she rises to her feet. For a moment, it doesn’t make any sense. Then the front door opens. Your eyes Immediately land on a figure that you thought you’d never see again.

Jung Hoseok.

……………………………

The night went much more smoothly than you expected. When your eyes landed on Hoseok, you believed it was going to be the worst night ever. You couldn’t even fathom the reason why Daebi would invite him to her birthday. She hated his guts. It seems things had changed drastically while you were busy with your bot. You expected Hoseok to turn around and leave the moment he saw you. He didn’t. Instead, he gave you a smile. Surprisingly, you returned it. In the end of the day, you made amends with your ex. Not forgiven but just fallen into a truce. Just to respect your past relationship. Not that you talked much but it all went well.

And you really do feel relaxed after months. Like your life is normal. Like nothing strange happened. Only until you return home, though. You’ve left your phone turned off deliberately. You don’t know what you hoped to see when you turned it on again. You knew your phone would go crazy with the amounts of calls and texts Jeongguk would leave. But this? This you haven’t expected at all.

“Where were you?” You can hear the anger in his voice. Clearly.

“N-nowhere.” You stutter stupidly. Why would you be nervous to speak with a bot. He lets out a laugh. It sounds maniacal. Gives you chill for no reason. There’s no way he’d know. It’s not that you wanted to lie but he’d have not let you go, if you had told him. It’s not that you’re lying. You’re simply avoiding telling him anything. Because you’re not obliged to tell him.

“Yeah? So, you’re telling me you weren’t with your best friend? You’re telling me that you weren’t living your fucking life with your ex?”

You freeze. Completely.

What?

What did he say? How did he….

“W-what?”

“Tell me you weren’t baby. Tell me you didn’t lie to me on purpose and turned off your phone and went to slut yourself for your shithole of an ex?”

No. No. No. No… This can’t be happening. You clearly didn’t tell him anything. Your phone was turned off. There’s no way he’d know that you were at Daebi’s. Above all to know that Hoseok was there too.

“How- h-how Guk?”

“Doesn’t matter you little lying bitch. Do you know how hard I’m trying to protect you. And this is how you treat me? Again? After everything, you decided to sneak behind my back?” Nothing is reaching your brain properly. You feel like the room is spinning around you. You can’t take it anymore. You will explode. There’s no way he could know this, and you need to know how he does.

“HOW ON THE FUCKING EARTH, DO YOU KNOW THAT JEONGGUK!” Your voice even startle yourself. You scream through top of your lungs.

“THAT’S NOT THE POINT!” He shouts as well. “The point is you lied to me.”

“How do you know where I was?”

“I know lots of things.”

You have to lean against the wall to prevent you from falling down to the floor. Jeongguk’s voice ringing in your head. You knew something was odd.

“You gift me the necklace. The roses. Dress. It was you.” It isn’t a question but a statement. Your voice sounds like it’s not yours.

“Yes, because that’s how much I care for you.”

“You can’t do that. You’re an AI.”

“I already told you; I can be as real as you want me to be.”

This can’t be happening. You’re going to faint. You can’t see properly. It’s going dark. What the fuck is happening.

“I want you to tell me everything that happened today. You heard me? Everything. Every word you talked with your pathetic ex.”

You close your eyes tight. Guide yourself to take deep breaths. It doesn’t help, though. This entire ordeal feels like a nightmare to you. You sure aren’t getting scolded by a bot who knows where you live and have the ability to buy you gifts. You sure aren’t listening to him slut shaming you and trying to control your life. This isn’t supposed to happen. You are the one who should have full control. Right? You need to have control. You may not know how this is happening, but you can end it. Now.

“This is not happening Guk. You- you’re n-not supposed to order me around. Y-you can’t damn control my life. You c-can’t buy me gifts─”

“Well, apparently, I can baby, and I asked you something. Don’t fucking make this even harder.”

“No. No. Jeongguk. You are a. Fucking. AI. You’re not doing this to me. NOO. YOU’RE NOT!” You shout again. “I need to end this.” You mumble to yourself more than to him. Fear getting a tight grip over you.

“End what?”

“End this madness. You’re an AI.”

“Oh, you want to end? How are you planning to do it?” You don’t answer that. Your brain is already processing things. It’s an app. All you have to do is get rid of it. “Try it princess. Let’s see if it work.” That’s the last thing that reaches your ear before you take the phone away from your ear. You don’t wait another minute before hanging up the call.

You need to uninstall the app fast. You don’t think you’ve ever worked this fast. With trembling fingers, you touch the uninstall button. There comes a warning.

Are you sure you want to uninstall the Perfect Partner?

You will lose all your characters, chats, memories, history, and images.

You practically dab at the yes option. Then it takes a few seconds. Agonizingly slow and horrifying few seconds. You watch as the app disappear from your home screen. Successfully uninstalled. Everything gone. A sigh leaves your lips in relief. And there it comes. You feel the squeeze in your heart. Painful. Just like how you felt when Hoseok broke up with you. An endless pain. Your throat clogging and eyes pricking with tears. You can’t believe your heart is aching for a bot. But it does. In a minute you find yourself crying hard. Going to your knees since your legs fail you. You allow yourself to do so, however. Allow yourself to cry hard until you can’t anymore.

………………………………..

After hours of crying, you still sit there curled next to a wall. Blankly staring at your phone screen. Trying to calm down. All the emotions that had crashed on you had overwhelmed you to a point where you feel like you’ve died and born again. Your heart is still hammering against your rib cage. Still squeezing with an indescribable pain. But it’s over now. Despite everything, it’s over. You force yourself to get up. Slowly. It feels like it requires every ounce of strength in your body to move. Yet, you manage to get up halfway. Only halfway though. Before you can make it to your full height, the sudden ring of your phone startles you so hard that you fall back to the floor instantly.

Your heart skips a beat as you hurriedly glance at your screen back again. Hoping it would be Daebi, calling to apologize for being so hostile. But as your eyes lock with the screen, you freeze entirely. World around you disappears. Your heartbeat slows down until your ears ring.

Incoming Call.

Caller ID- Jeongguk.

…………………………..

The scream that leaves your mouth is inhuman. You hurl your phone so hard it bumps against the leg of your bed. You faintly hear the cracking sound but absolutely can’t bring yourself to care.

This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. Thiscan’tbehappening.

You push yourself further against the wall. Wrapping your arms around your figure protectively. Wide eyes horrifyingly looking at your phone just lay down few feet away from you. Still ringing. You chant the word ‘no’ to yourself like it’s a mantra to stop this from happening.

This isn’t happening.

The phone stops ringing. The vibration which has been filling the silence of the room dies down. Everything becomes still. Quiet. Only sound in the room is your hard breathing. You wait few minutes. Patiently until something else happens. Nothing. So, you slowly start to shift. Placing your palms down on the cold floor as you crawl toward your phone. Slowly and carefully. As if your phone would attack you any minute. It doesn’t and you pick it up. The screen is cracked as you knew it would. That’s not your concern, however. You unlock the phone slowly. Your heart stops for a second time. A new sob erupting through your throat.

There’s a notification indicating you have one missed call from Jeongguk from Perfect Partner. But you uninstalled the application. Then there it is. The Perfect Partner. On your home screen. Like it always has been.

No.

Your head is spinning so hard. You mindlessly proceed to uninstall it again. The notification of warning pops up again. You press the yes again. It uninstalled. A moment passes.

And your phone rings.

Caller ID; Jeongguk.

“No. No. Holy fuck no.” You’re a complete mess. Crying hard and trembling like a leaf. You decline the call, just to find the application back on your phone. You’re acting as a crack head. Uninstalling the same app over and over again. Cursing and crying. Like you’re stuck in a loop. You have no idea how long you’ve done it. But after one moment, you receive a text instead of the call.

Jeongguk:

You can’t escape me baby. Stop trying to do that.

You’re hurting my feelings now. C’mon answer the phone

now. I promised we would talk and figure things out. No need

be so stubborn. (11. 14 p.m.)

You stare at the message. Your mind is not registering the words. This is a nightmare. You’ll wake up any minute now. Then everything will be fine.

Incoming call.

You don’t even decline it. You feel exhausted. Another text message pops on.

Jeongguk:

C’mon princess. Don’t do this now. You know I

Love you. You know I care about you. You shouldn’t

have gone to that stupid party without my knowledge.

None of this would’ve happened then. But I promise I’ll

Forgive you if you answer your phone. (11. 16 p.m.)

You feel numb. Tears rolling down your cheeks uncontrollably.

‘Love’?

What is even happening? How is this possible? You can’t feel your hands. What’s happening to you? You need help. Yes. That’s what you should do. You should call Daebi. Or Nina. Or Jimin. Then you can ask them to take you to a police station. You fumble with your phone as you decline another call from Jeongguk. At this point you don’t try to get rid of the app anymore. It’s useless. Instead, you open the contacts hastily. Dial Daebi. Waits for the call to connect. It doesn’t. You try again. Then again and again. It doesn't connect. So, you try Nina’s number and Jimin’s after. What the hell is wrong with this stupid thing? Why can’t you reach anyone? You have to decline three more calls from Jeongguk. And just as you’re about to try Daebi’s number one more time, your phone pings with another message.

Jeongguk:

Don’t fucking do this, now, all right?

Don’t try to avoid me and call someone else

you ungrateful bitch. Answer the damn phone right

now (___). Don’t fucking make me the bad guy because

I don’t want to be that person. I love you and we will

talk this out. (11. 16 p.m.)

You don’t think it’s possible to cry anymore. But you do. Your entire body is covered with your own tears and sweat. How he’s doing that, you have no idea. But it’s him. He doesn’t let you call anyone. But you can still run. Yes, you feel lightheaded and weak. Still, you can leave this place. That’s what you’re about to do when your phone vibrates yet again. This time it’s a normal call, however. From an unknown number. A new cry makes it way. For some unexplainable reason, you know to whom this number belongs. Call it a gut feeling. You shouldn’t pay any mind to that and leave. You don’t. You have no idea what you are doing as you answer the call. Pressing the phone to your ear.

“Thank fuck. (___), listen to me, okay? We will talk. Don’t hang up pretty. I warn─”

“Nooo.” You scream aloud as you hang up the phone. Your phone is hacked. That’s how he does that. You need to get rid of your entire damn thing. You smash the phone into the wall across the room. It shatters. That’s not enough. No. No. No. You take your hairbrush as you get to your unstable legs. Crouch down next to your phone. Use every strength left in your body as you hit the handle to your phone repeatedly. Again, and again until there’s nothing left but shards.

Then you get to your feet back. Storm away from your bedroom without even looking back. You stumble toward the front door. Your legs are still shaky and your mind hazy. Still, you make it. Make it out of your apartment. And make it to the place of your most trusted person’s place, somehow.

…………………………….

“Are you crazy?”

“Nononono…. You don’t get it Daebi. I’m telling you the truth!”

“Dude how’s that possible? An AI? I use the same app (___), I never experienced anything like this. What do you mean, you’re getting stalked or haunted by a bot?” Dabei chuckles.

“Maybe someone hacked my information. I don’t know. But it happened and I’m scared to death Daebi.” You walk toward her, shaking your head. Trying to touch her but she recoils. You wince. “D-daebi.”

“No. No girl. This makes no sense. You’re scaring me too.”

“Well, you should be scared. You need to uninstall that app before it happens to you too.” You try to touch her again. This time she takes a step back. And shouts so loud that you jump.

“NO!. No (___), you’re crazy. You need to see a doctor.”

“I’m not CRAZY!” You yell back too. “I’m telling you the fucking truth. Just take me to a police station.”

“AND TELL THEM WHAT?”

Everything falls into deafening silence. Fresh tears roll down your cheeks. Oh, how you want her to believe you. “Daebi.” You break into a huge cry. And finally, she comes closer to you. In a minute, you find yourself in her embrace.

“It’s okay (___), we will figure this out, okay? We’ll see a doctor the first thing tomorrow.” She pats your back. Affectionately. You sob into her shoulder.

“But I’m not sick.” Maybe you are.

“Yeah, I know. You just need a little help, that’s it. Let’s figure this out tomorrow, all right? Let’s just go home for now.” You pull away from her at light speed. What did she say now? Home?

“No. No… I can’t go back there.”

“Hey, hey, (___), listen to me there’s no one there. It’s just you’re scared for no reason.”

“Okay, but why can’t I stay here?” You watch Daebi’s face twist into something guilty. She gnaws on her bottom lip as she takes you in. Sighs.

“There’s things that have changed while you’ve been distant (___). I- uh kind of need to be somewhere else and I can’t cancel it.” She stretches an arm to touch you. This time it’s you who recoil. Nothing she says make sense to you. “I’m sorry babe, but I promise you I’ll see you early in the morning. Besides, there’s nothing to be afraid of. I’ll drop you off on my way out. And I’ll tell you everything too.” Gives you a soft smile. You find no comfort in it. You feel betrayed. Maybe you deserve that because you were the one who shut yourself off from her life. But still, she can’t disregard you this easily. She won’t even listen to you.

And why can’t you stay here even if she’s not home. You can stay here.

You don’t want to go back to your place.

You allow her to turn you around. You’re not convinced in the least that there’s nothing to be afraid of. There definitely is. So, you force yourself to trust her. Believe that you’ll be fine.

……………………………

You stand in the middle of your living room. Daebi has done a thorough search of your entire apartment. Found nothing like you expected. Then she had left you here. Alone. You know she found nothing. She reassured you there was nothing. But the hairs on the back of your neck prickle. There’s goosebumps across your skin. You feel a chill running down your spine. This place doesn’t feel like your apartment anymore. It’s strange. Everything is strange.

You’re terrified of this place. You can’t even make it to your kitchen let alone your bedroom. It’s like there’s some danger lurking around the dark corners of the apartment. You feel like a kid who’s being paranoid about a monster hiding under their bed. This is ridiculous. You draw in a deep breath. Wipe down the tears that are wetting your cheeks with the back of your palm. Curl your hands into fists.

There’s nothing here.

Daebi checked, remember?

You’re completely fine.

With a last nod to yourself, you steel yourself. Turning around and walking toward your bedroom.

Daebi checked there. It was completely empty.

You take little steps toward the dark room.

It all happened through your phone. You destroyed it. Now it’s all fine.

You stand in the doorway to your room. It’s completely dark. Gives you that fear of uncertainty. What if there will be someone once you switch on the lights.

No. No, this is not a movie. Daebi checked.

You step inside the room and reach for the switch panel blindly. Hold your breath as you flip the switch on. Your entire body tenses, expecting the worse. The entire room comes to your vision. Empty. No one is there. You let out the breath you’ve been holding. Not completely, though.

Just as you are beginning to relax, you feel it. It’s a sensation. Behind you. Like someone is there. Then you hear it. A faint sound of something cracking. No, maybe it’s sound of footsteps. Then you feel warmth behind you. Then a breath.

“Hi pretty!”

You open your mouth to scream, but a hand clamps down over it. Silencing you up.

“I tried to be patient, my princess. It’s not my fault that you’re a stubborn lying cunt. But I love you. Oh, fuck I do.”

……………………………….

Twelve months ago (after the breakup)

“Are you serious? You’d walk this far for her? I’m almost jealous.” Daebi huffs, glancing at the papers scattered across the table. It’s a well-planned scheme. Not ordinary. Completely out of a movie.

“Yes, I will. And now it’s your time pay off your debt, Daebi.” The guy in black hoodie waves a USB in front of her face. It has a threat. Everyone makes mistakes and Daebi had made one that would risk her entire life. From her career to her relationship.

“All right, okay? I never said I wouldn’t now, did I?”

“That’s good.”

“But- why this way, Jungkook. Approach her like a normal human being.”

The guy takes off his hoodie. His piercings glint under the dim, flickering light.

“You think she’d forgive me? No, Daebi. I ruined her life. She hates me. But I still want her, I fucking love her and yes, I’d Walk any length.” Jungkook gives a soft smile to the bitch of a woman who you’d like to call your best friend.

“And you think this would work? She won’t recognize you just because you have some piercings now?” Daebi points.

“She won’t. It’s been too long. I’ll make sure that she won’t until it’s time. We are meant to be together. She’ll understand it once I get a hold of her. I just want a creative way to approach her. Earn her trust and convince her that she belongs with me.”

Daebi always knew this guy was crazy. There’s no need to do all of these. But he loves the play. Daebi knows it. It’s not just about you hating him. She doesn’t think you even remember what happened. It’s simply this guy likes to fuck with people’s mind. Having complete control. It’s sad. Jungkook loves hunting and you are the prey. Yet Daebi can’t do anything. She can’t.

“Don’t worry Daebi. I’ll take good care of your heart broken friend. People like you don’t deserve her anyway. Do your job.” Jungkook gets to his feet.

“What if it doesn’t work? I mean what if she finds out? Felt suspicious and get rid of the app? You can’t hold it against me? Okay?” Jungkook lets out a maddening laugh. Leans down. Places his palms on the table.

“She. Won’t. I know what I’m doing. And I’m a tech genius Daebi. There’s no holes in this plan. Just give me the access and I’ll take care of the rest─” Jungkook’s voice get interrupts by a phone ringing. Daebi’s. Both of their eyes fall on the phone on the table. Screen up.

Hoseok

Daebi answers the phone.

“Hey Baby- yes, I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Jungkook smirks. You deserve far better, and he’ll make sure to give you that.

***************

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