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faebled-stories · 2 days ago

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Under The Radar

Kinkvember Day 29: Public

Soloist IU (Lee Jieun) Ft. Kang Seulgi x Male reader

20k words

AN: Later than usual, sorry I had a headache the entire day today, this one is roughly edited sorry, but I still got this out woohoo. Love you guys, one day left... 💖💖

Jieun had always felt like her life was carefully mapped out, each step following a script written for her by others. As one of the nation’s most beloved soloists, adored for her pure and innocent image, she was the embodiment of grace and poise on stage and in the public eye. But behind the polished smiles and carefully chosen words, she sometimes felt constrained—like she was living in a glass box, admired but not fully free. That was until a few years ago, when she met you.

Your lively personality and unapologetic zest for life awakened something in her. You encouraged her to step outside the lines and embrace the messy, unpredictable beauty of living. Slowly, Jieun began to let go of the perfection she’d always strived for, finding joy in spontaneity. Yet, even as she embraced this new side of herself, she held onto the things that kept her grounded: late-night talks with you where she felt safe to share her deepest thoughts, quiet moments where she could just be Jieun—not the idol, not the “nation’s little sister,” but simply herself.

Beneath the city’s vibrant glow, where skyscrapers kissed the heavens and neon lights flickered like electric veins pulsing through the night, you and Jieun thrived. The rhythm of the city mirrored your love—dynamic, electric, and alive with possibility. Every glance exchanged felt like a spark igniting a wildfire, and every touch carried a magnetism that transformed the mundane into magic. Together, you created your own world, one that was equal parts adventure and intimacy.

Weekends became your playground for discovery. The city, vast and brimming with hidden treasures, turned into a labyrinth of adventure for you both. From wandering dimly lit alleys to finding secret rooftop bars where you could escape the world, every moment felt like an escape from the spotlight that followed her. Lazy mornings often gave way to spontaneous bike rides along the waterfront, the scent of saltwater mingling with the aroma of street food from nearby vendors. Evenings carried their own kind of thrill—dance lessons that left you tangled in laughter, or sipping whimsical cocktails under a canopy of stars, the city below fading into a comforting blur.

On one such afternoon, golden sunlight streamed through the windows, wrapping the living room in a cozy warmth. Jieun sat cross-legged on the couch, engrossed in a book, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of her sweater. The peaceful quiet between you was comforting, but your attention kept drifting from the book in your hands to her, captivated by the way her hair glowed in the light or the subtle curve of her lips when she smiled at a passage.

Eventually, she looked up, catching your gaze. Her lips curled into a teasing smile. “You’ve been staring at me for a while now,” she said softly, closing her book. “Is there something you want to say?”

You chuckled, leaning back into the cushions. “Just admiring you.”

She laughed, a soft, musical sound. “You’re sweet,” she murmured, though her tone carried a playful edge. For a moment, her expression softened, but then a sly glint flickered in her eyes. She stood, brushing her hands down her sweater as if bracing herself, before moving to the nearby shelf. After rummaging briefly, she turned back toward you with something hidden behind her back, her cheeks slightly pink.

“What’s that?” you asked, curiosity piqued as she approached with a playful bounce in her step.

She pulled her hands forward, revealing a sleek, lacy garment that dangled lightly from her fingers. Your eyebrows lifted in surprise as the soft material glinted faintly in the sunlight, but what caught your eye even more was the small, discreet remote next to it. “I got these a while ago,” she began, her voice steady but carrying a hint of shyness. “I thought they might be fun. For us.”

It took a second for you to fully register what she was holding, and when you did, your grin widened. “Wow. You’ve been holding out on me.”

She rolled her eyes, though her blush deepened. “I wasn’t sure if it was… too much,” she admitted, glancing down at the garment briefly before meeting your eyes again. “But I figured if anyone would enjoy this with me, it’d be you.”

You reached out, letting your fingers graze the fabric. It was impossibly soft, and the hint of what it could do made your heart race. “I’d say you know me pretty well,” you said, your voice low.

Her lips curved into a smile, her confidence building as she noticed your reaction. “I wouldn’t have brought it up if I didn’t,” she said, her tone warming. “I thought it might make the day a little more… interesting.”

“Interesting is one way to put it,” you replied, your grin widening as your gaze flicked to the remote in her other hand. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

She smirked, leaning in slightly. “I was born ready.”

You laughed, watching as she turned and sauntered toward the bedroom. “Give me a minute,” she called over her shoulder, her tone light and teasing.

While Jieun disappeared into the other room, you let your mind wander, the anticipation building with every passing second. You could hear faint rustling as she moved around, and the idea of what was to come sent a thrill through you. The little remote rested in your palm, its smooth design deceptively innocent. When she finally returned, she stood in the doorway, her cheeks tinged pink but her expression playful. Her skirt fell naturally into place, and she smoothed it over her hips, her movements casual yet deliberate.

“Well?” she asked, stepping closer, her tone light but with a hint of shyness. “What do you think?”

“Beautiful,” you murmured, letting your gaze linger on her. There was something about her mix of confidence and vulnerability that made her all the more captivating. Reaching out, you pulled her gently toward you until she was standing between your knees, your hands resting lightly on her hips.

She tilted her head, her smirk returning as her shyness melted away. “Even like this?” she teased, lifting her skirt just enough to give you a glimpse. The delicate lace clung perfectly, and you couldn’t help but grin.

“Especially like this,” you replied, your voice dropping slightly as your hands slid along her thighs. Then, unable to resist, you leaned forward and gave her a light, teasing spank. The soft smack made her yelp in surprise before she broke into laughter, her hand playfully swatting at your shoulder.

“You’re impossible,” she said, shaking her head though her smile lingered. Adjusting her skirt again with exaggerated composure, she added, “I hope you know this isn’t just about you. I’m supposed to enjoy this too.”

“Oh, trust me,” you said, holding up the remote with a mischievous grin. “I fully intend to make this enjoyable. For both of us.”

Her eyes flicked to the remote, and she raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a smile. “Just… don’t go crazy, okay?” she said, her tone a mix of playful and serious. “I’d like to actually get through the day without falling apart.”

You leaned in, brushing a quick kiss to her forehead before grinning mischievously. “No promises.”

She let out a huff, half-laughing as she leaned into you. “You’re trouble,” she murmured, her hands resting on your shoulders.

“And you love it,” you replied, wrapping an arm around her waist as you stood, pulling her closer.

-----

With the impromptu game set, you and Jieun ventured into the city’s renowned aquarium. The grand entrance glimmered under the soft evening light, its glass panels reflecting hues of pink and gold from the setting sun. Inside, the world transformed into an ethereal underwater dreamscape. The soft blue glow from the massive tanks bathed everything in a tranquil light, the murmur of water and faint sound of bubbles creating an intimate, almost otherworldly ambiance.

Jieun’s excitement was infectious, lighting up the dimly lit halls of the aquarium. Her steps were quick and light, her body practically vibrating with energy. Her delicate fingers brushed the cool glass of the tanks as she leaned in close, her breath fogging the surface slightly. Her eyes, wide with wonder, tracked vibrant coral reefs and schools of neon fish darting through the water like streaks of living paint. She let out a soft gasp of delight as a jellyfish floated by, its translucent form undulating gracefully under the soft tank lights.

“Look at this one,” she said, her voice tinged with awe as she pointed at a tiny, vibrant seahorse gripping a piece of coral. Her lips curved into a smile that lit up her face, her laughter like the tinkling of wind chimes as she moved from tank to tank, her hair swaying gently with each turn of her head.

At a tank displaying sleek, undulating eels, Jieun leaned closer, her nose almost touching the glass. The bluish light cast a soft glow over her features, accentuating the delicate curve of her jaw and the soft pink of her cheeks. You couldn’t help but admire the pure joy radiating from her as she watched the creatures glide effortlessly through the water.

You leaned close to her ear, your breath warm against her skin. “Hey, Jieun,” you whispered conspiratorially, “Did you know some eels can electrocute you, even without touching?”

She straightened, her brows knitting in skepticism as she turned to you, her lips parting slightly in question. “That can’t be—”

Before she could finish, you pressed the remote discreetly in your pocket. A soft hum filled the air, unnoticed by anyone but her. Her body stiffened almost imperceptibly, her fingers tightening on the edge of the tank as her breath hitched. A gasp, soft and sharp, escaped her lips, her expression shifting into something between surprise and restrained pleasure.

Her wide eyes snapped to you, a deep pink flush blooming across her cheeks and spreading down her neck. The faint glow from the tank made the color even more vivid, contrasting with the cool light surrounding her. “Honey!” she hissed, her voice barely above a whisper but trembling with emotion. Her free hand instinctively flew to your arm, gripping it for support as her knees threatened to wobble.

Her gaze darted around nervously, checking if anyone nearby had noticed. Thankfully, the dim aquarium lighting and the scattered visitors provided just enough cover for her to attempt to compose herself. “You didn’t!” she whispered, her tone a mix of disbelief and something unspoken that made her voice falter slightly.

“Oh, I did,” you replied with an innocent grin, your eyes twinkling with mischief as you took in the slight tremor in her stance and the way her lips parted as her breath quickened. Her body shifted subtly, her thighs pressing together in a fruitless attempt to temper the sensations coursing through her.

Her glare lacked bite, her lips twitching as though she were suppressing a smile. “You’re impossible,” she said, her voice laced with frustration but softened by a tinge of amusement. She nudged your arm weakly, her movements betraying her distraction as another soft gasp escaped her lips.

“Impossible?” you teased, leaning closer so your voice was only for her. “I’d say I’m creative.”

Jieun bit her lip, her eyes narrowing as she tried to shoot you a reprimanding look, but the way her body shivered, her hand gripping your arm tighter, betrayed the effect you were having on her. “If we get caught,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she fought to keep it steady, “I swear I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” you interrupted, your grin widening as you watched her cheeks grow impossibly redder.

She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head slightly as she glanced back at the tank, her reflection in the glass showing her flushed face and glistening eyes. “I’ll think of something,” she murmured, her voice low and edged with playful defiance.

Her eyes narrowed, but the playful gleam in them betrayed her. Even as she straightened and tried to focus on the tank, her posture remained tense, her body alive with the anticipation of your next move.

You waited, letting the vibrations continue just long enough to see her fingers grip the edge of the tank a little tighter, her breaths coming faster. Her hips shifted almost imperceptibly as she fought to steady herself. Just when you could tell she was teetering on the edge, her lips parting in a soft gasp, you turned the vibrations off.

Her eyes shot to yours, wide with a mixture of relief and frustration. She opened her mouth to say something, but the words didn’t come. Instead, she bit her lip, her cheeks burning as she gave you a look that promised retribution.

The magical ambiance of the aquarium heightened every sensation. As you moved from exhibit to exhibit, the low lighting, soft hum of water, and distant murmurs of other visitors created an intimate atmosphere that made the teasing all the more thrilling. Near the penguin enclosure, as she watched the adorable creatures waddle and dive, you flicked the remote again. The gentle vibration coursed through her, causing her to stifle a giggle and clutch your arm for support. She leaned into you, her breath coming faster, and whispered, “I swear, if you don’t stop…”

But you could tell she didn’t mean it. The way she bit her lip, her cheeks rosy and her eyes darting nervously around the room, spoke volumes. Her whispered threats of payback only spurred you on. You waited until she was engrossed again, then turned the vibrations up, her knees slightly buckling as she gripped your arm tightly.

“Honey…!” she whispered, her voice trembling with desperation. This time, her body trembled slightly as the sensations built. You could feel her grip tightening on you, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. Just as her lips parted and her eyes fluttered closed, you turned it off again.

Her sharp intake of breath told you everything. “I hate you,” she hissed, her voice low and shaky as she tried to regain her composure. But the look in her eyes betrayed her—she didn’t hate it at all.

The grand glass tunnel beneath the shark tank offered the perfect backdrop for the next round. The sharks glided silently overhead, their massive forms cutting through the water with serene power. Rays and smaller fish swirled around them, creating a mesmerizing display. Jieun stood in quiet awe, her face tilted up to watch the majestic creatures.

You saw your opportunity. Turning the vibrations up slightly, you watched as her breath hitched. She clutched the railing, her fingers whitening as she tried to steady herself. A soft moan escaped her before she quickly covered her mouth, her wide eyes darting to yours in a mix of panic and thrill.

“You’re… impossible,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she leaned closer to you, seeking support while the vibrations coursed through her body.

You leaned down, your breath warm against her ear. “I’m counting on you to keep it together,” you murmured, your voice low and teasing. She shivered at your words, her body pressing into yours as the tension mounted.

This time, you kept the vibrations steady, letting them build as her body tensed against you. Her breathing grew faster, her hips shifting subtly as her grip on the railing tightened. You could feel her pressing closer to you, her soft, breathy moans muffled as she buried her face in your arm.

“Almost there…” you whispered, the vibrations intensifying slightly. Her head tilted back, her lips parting as her eyes fluttered shut. Just as she reached the peak, her entire body trembling, you turned it off.

Her eyes snapped open, and the frustration on her face was palpable. “Babe!” she hissed, her voice low and desperate. But there was no hiding the way her body trembled, her thighs pressing together as she struggled to compose herself. “You’re the worst.”

“Am I?” you replied with a sly grin, brushing her hair from her flushed face. “You seem to be having fun.”

As the day went on, Jieun’s neediness became more apparent. Her fingers would linger on your arm, her steps closer, her voice softer and tinged with a breathless edge. She whispered pleas between exhibits, her tone wavering as she begged for relief. But you kept her on the edge, turning the vibrations on and off just as she reached the brink, her soft whimpers and frustrated glances fueling your mischievous delight.

By the time you reached the dolphin show, Jieun’s restraint was hanging by a fragile thread. Her flushed cheeks and slightly unsteady steps betrayed just how much you had pushed her to the edge. Every teasing pulse left her trembling, her breath shallow, her glassy eyes flickering between the vibrant display of dolphins and the knowing smirk on your face. The public setting only heightened the stakes, her need battling against her desperate resolve to remain composed.

You had chosen a discreet spot in the far corner of the audience, away from the densest part of the crowd. The dim lighting and the vantage point gave you just enough cover while still leaving the thrill of being in public fully intact. The murmur of excited conversations and the occasional splash of water set the scene as the dolphins began their acrobatics, their synchronized movements drawing cheers and applause from the crowd.

Jieun’s posture was rigid, her thighs pressed tightly together as she clung to your arm. The vibrations had been off for just long enough to let her think she might have a moment to regain control, her body settling into a tentative calm. But you weren’t about to let her settle.

With a subtle flick of your thumb, you activated the remote in your pocket. The sudden pulse coursed through her body like a shockwave. She stiffened immediately, her nails biting into your arm as her breath hitched audibly. Her wide eyes darted to yours, a mix of shock and desperation flashing in their depths.

“Please…” she whispered, her voice trembling, her cheeks flushing even deeper as her thighs pressed closer together. You could feel her quivering against you, her grip tightening as she tried to compose herself.

Leaning in, you murmured against her ear, “Careful. We wouldn’t want anyone to notice, would we?” Your tone was low and teasing, the warmth of your breath against her skin making her shudder.

Her lips parted slightly, as if to protest, but no words came—only a soft, shaky exhale that hung in the air. Her body, always so poised and composed, betrayed her now. Her shoulders tensed as the vibrations teased her relentlessly, and her breaths grew shallow, each one hitching faintly as her chest rose and fell in uneven rhythm. The delicate flush on her cheeks deepened, spreading down her neck, and the faintest tremor ran through her legs, which shifted subtly as if trying to relieve the growing tension.

Her fingers dug into your arm, her knuckles whitening as she tried to steady herself. The corners of her lips quivered, caught somewhere between a plea and a suppressed moan, her composure unraveling thread by thread. Her eyes fluttered closed, her lashes casting soft shadows on her pink-tinged cheeks as her head tilted back slightly. The glow of the aquarium’s lights shimmered on her skin, illuminating the faint sheen of sweat beginning to form on her forehead and along her collarbone.

You waited, savoring the sight of her squirming under the pressure, her body writhing ever so slightly as the vibrations worked their way through her. Her thighs pressed together instinctively, the motion betraying just how impossible her growing need was to ignore.

Then, just as her grip on your arm tightened to the point of desperation and a soft, choked gasp escaped her lips, you clicked the remote and turned the vibrations off.

The effect was immediate and visceral. Her eyes snapped open, wide and filled with disbelief as the absence of sensation left her teetering on the edge, unfulfilled. Frustration flickered across her face, her brows furrowing as she bit her lower lip hard enough to leave a faint mark, her breaths coming fast and ragged. She tried to regain her composure, but the trembling in her hands and the damp glow on her skin gave her away completely.

The show continued, the dolphins leaping gracefully through the air, but Jieun’s focus was entirely on you now. She shot you a pleading glance, her lips trembling as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. You let her stew for a moment, savoring the anticipation that radiated from her in waves.

Then, as the dolphins reached the peak of their routine, the crowd erupting into cheers, you cranked the vibrations to their highest setting.

Jieun’s entire body arched as the overwhelming sensation took hold, her back curving like a drawn bow. Her nails dug into your arm and thigh, leaving faint crescent moons in your skin as her thighs clamped tightly together, trapping the device against her sensitive center. A muffled scream escaped her lips, raw and desperate, as she buried her face into your shoulder, her cries muted by your presence. Her entire frame trembled violently, each shudder a testament to the waves of pleasure crashing over her, unrelenting and all-consuming.

Her voice broke through in a desperate whisper, trembling and raw. “I—I’m so close,” she gasped, the words barely audible, muffled against your shoulder but heavy with the weight of her release. Her entire body tensed in anticipation, her thighs shaking as the sensation built into a crescendo she couldn’t hold back.

The rhythmic pulsing of her release was unmistakable, her body quaking with each contraction as her slickness soaked through the fabric. You slid your hand down, your fingers expertly finding their way between her trembling thighs. Pressing firmly against her lips through the damp lace, you began to move in slow, deliberate circles, the texture of the soaked fabric adding a tantalizing friction.

Her muffled cries deepened, each one breaking into a fractured gasp as her body surged toward the edge. “Oh fuck! I'm cumming…” she squeeled into your neck, her voice muffled but trembling with raw need. The added pressure of your fingers—so precise, so intentional—was too much for her to withstand. Her body stiffened sharply, her thighs tightening around your hand as her release finally broke free in an electrifying wave.

Her cries grew louder, though still stifled against your shoulder, perfectly masked by the thunderous applause of the crowd in the background. “Oh—oh my God!” she cried out, her voice breaking as her hips bucked slightly against your touch, every movement a mix of surrender and uncontrollable need. The heat radiating from her core was undeniable, her arousal coating your fingertips through the soaked fabric, a slickness that only heightened the intensity of the moment.

You kept your fingers moving in slow, teasing strokes, prolonging her high as her body quaked with aftershocks. Her head pressed deeper into your neck, her damp breath hot against your skin. Each ragged exhale mingled with the faint scent of her release, intoxicating and intimate. Her trembling legs struggled to hold her weight as she clung to you for support, her grip unyielding as she rode out every last ripple of pleasure.

When her trembling began to subside, you slowly withdrew your hand, feeling her thighs relax just enough to let you pull away. Her body sagged against yours, utterly spent, her flushed face damp with perspiration. The faint scent of her arousal lingered in the air, mingling with the aquatic freshness of the aquarium. It was intoxicating, an intimate mix of her release and the soft, saline tang of the water, creating a unique blend that made the moment feel even more charged.

You lifted your hand slightly, showing her the glistening sheen that coated your fingers. The dim blue light from the tanks reflected off the slickness, catching her attention immediately.

Her cheeks deepened to a fiery red as her wide eyes locked onto your hand. “What are you…” she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of mortification and fascination, her gaze unable to look away.

Without breaking eye contact, you smirked and reached out, brushing your slick fingers along the curve of her neck. The sticky warmth left a faint, glistening trail on her soft skin. The subtle scent of her arousal, so potent and personal, seemed to intensify as it mingled with her perfume and the humid air of the aquarium. Leaning in, your lips hovered just above the mark you’d made. “Look at you,” you murmured softly, your voice a low tease filled with admiration. “So beautiful like this.”

You began placing deliberate kisses along the line you had left, your lips and tongue tracing the faint stickiness as you marked her further. Her taste lingered faintly, salty and sweet, an intimate reminder of her vulnerability. Her head tilted instinctively, granting you access as you latched onto the soft skin at her collarbone. You started sucking gently, savoring the way her body responded, before increasing the intensity to leave a deeper mark. The scrape of your teeth against her skin elicited a soft whimper, her voice muffled as her hands clung tightly to your shirt, desperate to steady herself against the overwhelming sensations.

The warmth of your breath against her neck, coupled with the dampness from your kisses, sent fresh shivers through her. Her gasps grew more pronounced, each one trembling as you continued to leave small, purposeful marks, your teeth grazing her sensitive skin. The combination of your mouth on her and the scent of her release still faint in the air heightened her arousal once more.

Pulling back slightly, you met her gaze. Her eyes were glazed with satisfaction, her lips parted as she tried to steady her breathing. The flush of her cheeks spread to her neck, a beautiful testament to the intensity of the moment.

“You’re the worst,” she whispered shakily, though the way her fingers tightened their grip on your shirt told a different story. The words were barely audible, her voice a mix of bashfulness and lingering delight.

“Am I?” you teased, brushing your thumb lightly over one of the marks you’d left. “You didn’t seem to mind earlier.”

Her lips parted, as if to respond, but no words came. Instead, her gaze dropped for a moment, her cheeks flushing deeper. Her fingers gripped your shirt tightly, and when her eyes lifted to meet yours again, they were filled with an unspoken acknowledgment. The way her body pressed subtly closer, her breath hitching slightly, was all the confirmation you needed. She wanted to protest—but she knew you were right.

Your smirk softened as you lowered your head to place one last lingering kiss on her neck, letting your lips trail over the faint heat of her flushed skin. Her body shivered under your touch, a quiet gasp escaping her as she leaned into you, her silent agreement speaking volumes. When you finally pulled back, her eyes remained fixed on yours, a mixture of embarrassment, desire, and reluctant surrender shimmering in their depths.

The applause marking the end of the show broke through the moment, drawing both of you back into your surroundings. You stood, reaching out to help her to her feet. Her legs wobbled slightly, the remnants of her release still evident in her trembling. She leaned into you, her fingers lacing tightly with yours as she rested her head briefly against your shoulder.

Guiding her out into the glowing serenity of the aquarium, you felt the quiet buzz of her lingering arousal. Though she remained silent, her hand squeezed yours firmly, her flushed cheeks and the slight curve of her lips betraying just how much she’d enjoyed every moment.

-----

After that exhilarating time at the aquarium, the sexual tension between you and Jieun only seemed to grow as you entered the cozy, dimly lit restaurant for your dinner reservation. The intimate space was filled with the soft clinking of glasses and hushed conversations, creating a warm and romantic atmosphere that wrapped around you both like a shared secret.

You pulled out a chair for her, and she sat down gracefully, though the restless shifting in her movements betrayed the simmering anticipation from earlier. The low lighting cast a warm glow on her flushed cheeks, the remnants of your teasing evident in the slight tremor of her hands as she adjusted her skirt. Once the waiter approached, you discreetly activated the vibrator with a small press of the remote, watching as Jieun stifled a gasp, her body jerking slightly in her seat as she struggled to keep her composure.

“I’ll have the carbonara, p-please,” she managed, her voice catching slightly as her hand gripped the edge of the table. She shot you a look—half playful mischief, half veiled threat—as her cheeks burned with a deeper blush.

“And I’ll have the ribeye, medium please, thank you,” you said to the waiter, your tone steady as if nothing were amiss. You handed over the menus, feeling Jieun’s heated gaze on you.

Once the waiter stepped away, she leaned forward slightly, her voice low and laced with mock frustration. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

Feigning innocence, you leaned back, sipping your water as you smirked. “Me? I’m just here to enjoy a nice dinner with my beautiful girlfriend.”

Her eyes narrowed, but a sly smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “If this is dinner, I’m scared to see what dessert is like,” she murmured, her tone teasing despite the tremor in her voice.

The appetizers arrived shortly after—a colorful spread of bruschetta, stuffed mushrooms, and crispy calamari. Unable to resist pushing her further, you pressed the button three times, setting the vibrations to their maximum intensity. Jieun froze mid-reach for a piece of bruschetta, her eyes widening as the sudden jolt surged through her body.

Her breath hitched audibly, and a barely contained whimper escaped her lips. She immediately crossed her legs tightly, her muscles tensing as she fought to keep herself from reacting. “Oh god,” she whispered sharply, her voice trembling, though the flicker of excitement in her eyes betrayed her.

“What’s wrong, babe?” you asked casually, your smirk widening as you took a bite of bruschetta. “You look… tense.”

Her body shifted subtly, her thighs pressing together as the vibrations continued to pulse relentlessly. She bit her lip, trying to suppress the small, breathy moans that threatened to escape. “You’re… impossible,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper as her cheeks deepened to a scarlet hue. Her eyes darted nervously around the room, scanning for any sign that someone might notice her squirming.

Each movement only seemed to intensify the sensations coursing through her, the damp heat between her legs growing as her body became more sensitive. The risk of being discovered sent a thrilling shiver through her, heightening the tension. Every pulse of the vibrator seemed to echo in her mind, weaving into the restaurant’s ambiance of soft clinking silverware and low murmurs. The rich aroma of garlic and basil mingled with her heightened awareness, making everything feel overwhelming.

Her breaths became shallow, her body trembling as she leaned forward, gripping her utensils like a lifeline. She brought a bite of bruschetta to her lips, her teeth sinking into the crispy bread as a soft, involuntary moan escaped her, barely audible beneath the hum of conversation around you.

“B-babe,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly as she leaned closer to you. “You’re going to regret this.”

“Is that so?” you murmured, your voice teasingly low as your fingers tapped the remote again, adjusting the rhythm. Her body jolted, a quiet whimper slipping out as she squeezed her thighs together, her legs trembling under the table.

By the time the main course arrived, Jieun’s composure was fraying. Her carbonara sat untouched for a moment as she squirmed in her seat, her breaths coming in soft, uneven gasps. Every flick of the switch sent new waves of pleasure rippling through her, her mind spinning with the relentless teasing. The tablecloth concealed her trembling legs, but the way her fingers clutched the edge of the table betrayed how close she was to unraveling.

When the waiter returned to pour your wine, you pressed the button one final time, holding it steady at the highest setting. Jieun’s eyes widened as the relentless vibrations surged through her, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. Her body arched slightly, her lips parting in a choked gasp. She gripped the table with one hand, her other reaching for your arm under the table, her nails digging into your skin as her body shuddered.

“Babe,” she whimpered, her voice trembling with desperation. Her flushed face turned toward you, her glassy eyes meeting yours as her lips quivered. “P-please…”

You leaned closer, your voice low and teasing. “Please what, Jieun?” you whispered, your words brushing against her ear. The subtle warmth of your breath sent another shiver racing through her body, her grip on your arm tightening as if anchoring herself against the rising tide within her.

Her breaths were shallow and rapid, her body trembling as she clutched your arm tightly. The tension that had been building throughout the evening left her teetering on the brink, her thighs pressing together instinctively as if to find relief. Her lips parted slightly, a desperate moan threatening to slip free, but she caught herself, biting down on her lower lip to suppress the sound.

The relentless vibrations pushed her closer and closer to the edge. Her eyes fluttered closed as her body tensed, her breaths coming in soft gasps. You could feel it—see it—how close she was. Her thighs quivered, her hands gripping the table as the heat pooling between her legs became unbearable.

And just when you knew she was milliseconds away, you pressed the button and turned the vibrations off.

Her body jolted slightly at the sudden stillness, her eyes snapping open in wide, glassy disbelief. Her head whipped toward you, and for a moment, her parted lips and flushed cheeks told you she was at a loss for words. “No! fuck” she stammered, her voice hushed and trembling. The abrupt denial of release left her gasping, her chest heaving as her body fought to process the loss.

Her frustration spilled over, visible in the trembling of her hands and the way her thighs clenched reflexively under the table. “Please…” she whispered again, her voice a mix of pleading and incredulous annoyance. Her lips trembled as she bit down on her lower lip, squirming slightly in her seat in a futile attempt to steady herself. The flush on her cheeks deepened, spreading to her neck as she fidgeted, her body betraying how close she had been.

You leaned in casually, brushing your hand across hers on the table. “Not yet,” you murmured, your voice calm and teasing. The soft touch of your fingers sent another wave of heat through her, and her breath hitched audibly, her thighs squeezing together instinctively.

Her chest rose and fell as she exhaled shakily, her frustration now a simmering mix of desire and playful defiance. “I swear to god…” she whispered, her voice unsteady, a blend of pleading and unspoken challenge. Her narrowed gaze locked with yours, the flicker of frustration in her glassy eyes overshadowed by determination and the faintest hint of mischief. “You’re definitely paying for that later,” she added, her voice low and breathless as her lips curved into a sly smile.

You chuckled softly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze as your own smirk widened. “I’m looking forward to it,” you replied, your voice as confident as ever. The tension between you crackled like electricity, heightening every shared glance, every movement. Around you, the hum of the restaurant—the soft clinking of glasses, muted conversations, and bursts of laughter—faded into the background as your shared secret took center stage.

Jieun shifted again, her fingers fidgeting with her napkin as she tried to compose herself. Her restless movements betrayed her inner turmoil, her flushed cheeks and darting gaze revealing the fire you’d stoked within her. She let out a shaky sigh, her lips pressing together as she tilted her head slightly, as if weighing her options. Then, with a deep inhale, she leaned back in her chair, locking eyes with you. In that moment, the frustration in her gaze melted into something bold and daring, her confidence blooming.

As the chatter of other guests swelled around you, she “accidentally” dropped her fork, the metallic clink echoing against the hardwood floor. Without missing a beat, her dark hair fell over her shoulder like a curtain as she leaned forward, a devilish smile playing on her lips. The intensity in her eyes sent a shiver down your spine, her boldness catching you completely off guard.

Before you could react, she slipped gracefully under the table, her movements smooth and deliberate as if choreographed. The world above seemed to blur into the background—the laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the muted ambiance becoming mere noise. Your heart skipped a beat, your pulse quickening as she disappeared from view, her mischievous sparkle and the determination in her actions lingering in your mind.

You felt the warmth of her breath brush against your thigh as her fingers trailed up, delicate yet teasing, igniting sparks of anticipation that coursed through your entire body. Each touch was playful and tantalizing, deliberate in a way that made it impossible to focus on anything but her. Your eyes flicked around nervously, half-expecting someone to notice, but the attention of the other diners remained blissfully elsewhere, unaware of the secret unfolding beneath the table.

“You started this,” she murmured from below, her voice a soft, husky purr that sent a thrill racing through you. Her words were both an accusation and a promise, her tone dripping with playful dominance. Her eyes gleamed with mischief, but it was the quiet intensity in her gaze that made your pulse race, your breath catching as her focus returned to the task at hand.

Her fingers danced over the fabric of your pants, the pressure light but enough to make you shift in your seat. The teasing was relentless, her touch sending jolts of pleasure that left you teetering between frustration and raw anticipation. You could feel your body responding eagerly to every movement, the tension coiling tighter in your core as her hand pressed more firmly against you, drawing a soft, involuntary exhale from your lips.

She worked the button of your jeans with infuriating precision, each flick of her fingers heightening the anticipation and drawing out the moment. One button, then another, until she pulled the fabric aside, exposing you to the cool air. The contrast of her warm breath against your heated skin sent a shiver down your spine, the anticipation coiling tighter within you. For a moment, she paused, her lips hovering close, her eyes flickering with mischief and something darker—need.

Her fingers lightly traced along your length, and she inhaled deeply, her movements slow and deliberate. Her lashes fluttered as she closed her eyes, her breathing deepening as she leaned in. You felt the soft brush of her nose against your member as she nuzzled against you, the warmth of her face and the deliberate press of her lips sending sparks through your body.

“Mmm,” she murmured softly, her voice low and almost guttural as she took in your scent. Her nose trailed along you as if she were savoring every inch, and she let out a quiet, shuddering breath. “You smell… so good,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly with growing arousal.

The wild edge in her tone sent a rush through you, your body responding to the way she seemed to lose herself in the moment. Her cheek brushed against you, her lips ghosting along your length as her hands gripped your thighs for support. You caught the faintest sound of her own breath catching, a quiet, almost needy sigh escaping her as she shifted slightly beneath the table, her thighs pressing together.

Her warm breath continued to fan over you as she rubbed her face against your member, her movements unrestrained and filled with raw intensity. Her actions betrayed how much she was savoring every second as her lips finally parted, pressing a lingering kiss against your leaking tip before taking you into her mouth in one smooth, seamless motion.

The sensation was electrifying. Her mouth was soft, warm, and inviting, her tongue swirling over you with an eager dexterity that left you breathless. The contrast of her earlier wildness and the precision of her movements now made your head spin, the combination of control and abandon driving you closer to the edge with every passing moment.

She worked you deliberately, her rhythm slow at first, as though she wanted to savor every inch of you. Her tongue danced over you, each flick and swirl sending ripples of pleasure coursing through your body. The wet, velvety glide of her mouth was relentless, and you gripped the edge of the table tightly, your knuckles white as you fought to stay composed.

Your breaths came shallow and uneven, your vision narrowing as every nerve in your body focused on the heat and wetness of her mouth. You could feel her shifting below, her body responding to her own rising desire, her muffled hums against you vibrating softly, adding another layer of intensity. The air beneath the table seemed to grow hotter, the raw intimacy of the moment amplified by her unabashed enthusiasm and the heady mix of sensations she created.

She moved with purpose now, her pace quickening slightly as her hands joined in, one holding you steady while the other traced soft, teasing patterns along your thighs. Her tongue worked in perfect harmony with the rhythm of her lips, each motion drawing you closer to the edge. You bit down on the inside of your cheek to stifle the groan that threatened to escape, the urge to let go building with every passing second.

“God,” you whispered under your breath, your voice tight as her name almost slipped from your lips. The tension in your core coiled tighter, your control slipping as the pleasure surged in waves. Her wild, unrestrained energy earlier had stoked the fire, and now her expert attention was fanning it into an inferno.

Just when you thought the intensity couldn’t build any further, her pace quickened. Teasing circles along your inner thigh, her fingers dancing over your skin with maddening precision. The combination of her mouth and touch was overwhelming, and you felt yourself teetering closer and closer to the edge.

Then, footsteps. The sound of the waiter approaching broke through the haze, your heart leaping in sudden panic. You straightened slightly, forcing yourself to meet the waiter’s gaze as he arrived at the table, his polite smile oblivious to the scene unfolding beneath.

“How’s everything, sir?” the waiter asked, his voice neutral but curious as he scanned the table.

“It’s… good,” you managed, your voice tight, almost strangled. Jieun chose that exact moment to take you deeper, her tongue flicking expertly as she hummed softly, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure that nearly made you lose composure. You felt the faintest smirk against you, her mischief palpable even in the intensity of the moment.

“G-Great, actually. It’s great,” you stammered, barely keeping your voice steady. Your grip on the table tightened as her pace increased, her movements calculated, relentless. The pleasure building inside you was nearly impossible to contain.

The waiter frowned slightly, glancing around. “And your companion? She seems to be absent.”

“She’s… in the bathroom,” you said quickly, your voice strained, barely managing to sound coherent. Jieun’s lips enveloped you completely, her movements deliberate yet bold as she sensed your imminent release. Her tongue pressed firmly against you, her rhythm unwavering as her focus remained locked on driving you to the edge. “She’ll… be back in a minute,” you added, your voice cracking slightly as you gripped the edge of the table harder, the tension within you coiling impossibly tight.

The waiter nodded politely, blissfully unaware of the scene unfolding beneath the table, and walked away, leaving you alone once more. The instant his footsteps faded, the tenuous grip you had on your composure unraveled. Jieun’s pace quickened slightly, her mouth taking you deeper as she worked you with relentless precision, the pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave.

The first pulse of your climax hit hard, stealing the air from your lungs as your body tensed under her care. A groan escaped your lips, barely stifled, as wave after wave surged through you, each more intense than the last. Jieun held you firmly, her lips sealing tightly around you, her tongue moving skillfully to guide you through the release. Her hands pressed against your thighs, keeping you steady as your body trembled with the force of your orgasm.

She didn’t swallow—not yet. Instead, she held everything in her mouth, her movements slowing but not stopping. Her tongue continued to caress you, her lips applying gentle suction as she gave you a few more deliberate sucks, ensuring she drew out every last drop. The sensation was overwhelming, the combination of her warmth, her unwavering focus, and the lingering sensitivity making your breath hitch as aftershocks rippled through your body.

Jieun’s lips remained around you as she felt you begin to soften in her mouth, her tongue tracing gentle patterns along your length as she eased you through the final pulses of pleasure. Her fingers tightened briefly against your thighs, her movements tender yet precise, her care extending even as your body relaxed under her touch. She tilted her head slightly, her mouth lingering as she savored the intimacy of the moment, her cheeks subtly hollowing to coax out the last remnants of your release.

When she was certain there was nothing more, she eased back slowly, her lips leaving a lingering warmth as she released you. Her tongue flicked over her lips, her eyes glinting with triumph as she looked up at you from beneath the table. Her expression was a mixture of mischief and satisfaction, her confidence evident in the way her gaze held yours.

Your chest heaved as you fought to steady your breathing, your mind spinning from the intensity of the moment. Every nerve in your body felt alive, the sensation of her care and precision still imprinted on your skin. The world around you—the clinking of glasses, the murmur of conversation—slowly came back into focus, though the charged energy between you lingered in the air.

As Jieun rose back to her seat, her cheeks were flushed, her breath steadying after the intensity of the moment. Yet her eyes gleamed with a playful satisfaction that seemed to light her entire face. This was the nation’s “little sister,” beloved for her innocent charm, graceful demeanor, and unassailable purity. But in this moment, Jieun felt more alive than ever—bold, unapologetic, and exhilaratingly free.

Her heart raced as she met your gaze, a mischievous glint flickering in her eyes, the thrill of secrecy igniting her from within. She reveled in the delicious contradiction of it all—the sweet, innocent idol adored by millions daring to indulge in something so wild, so utterly forbidden. For years, she had carried the weight of her pristine image, playing the role that everyone expected of her. But here, beneath the dim lights of the restaurant, she wasn’t IU, the nation’s sweetheart. She was simply Jieun—fearless, audacious, and savoring every electrifying second of freedom.

A rush of exhilaration coursed through her, awakening a side of herself she rarely had the chance to explore. The stakes, the risk, the sheer audacity of her actions—they made her feel untouchable. Each glance, each subtle motion felt like a quiet rebellion against the constraints of her carefully curated life. It was intoxicating, this chance to step outside her own boundaries and shed the mask she’d worn for so long.

Her gaze darted around the room, sharp and calculated, ensuring that no one had noticed her daring move. But the steady thrum of her pulse wasn’t just from the risk of being caught—it was from the power she felt in the moment. Locking eyes with you, her expression shifted to something darker, more wicked, as her lips curved into a daring smile. Her every motion dripped with confidence as she leaned forward, taking control of the situation with a provocative ease that left you speechless.

Then, without breaking eye contact, she parted her lips and let every single drop of your release fall onto her half-eaten carbonara. Her movements were deliberate as she swirled the mixture into the creamy sauce with her fork, the action slow, purposeful, and brimming with challenge. Her gaze didn’t falter, daring you to look away, daring you to stop her. Your heart pounded, your breath catching in your chest as the audacity of her act unfolded before you.

Her pulse quickened, the forbidden nature of the moment sending a rush of heat coursing through her body. She could feel her skin flush, a tingling sensation that started at her neck and crept down her spine. The mixture of shock and arousal on your face fueled her further, empowering her with a heady sense of control. This wasn’t just about defiance—it was about claiming the moment, rewriting the rules of her normally controlled and polished existence.

She brought the first bite to her lips, her fork twisting delicately as the pasta slipped between her teeth. Her quiet hum of satisfaction resonated in the small space between you, and she closed her eyes briefly, savoring the creamy texture, the saltiness of the dish, and the layered sensations that went beyond taste. Her chest rose and fell with each deep breath, the act of eating transforming into something much more deliberate, intimate.

The plate wasn’t finished with that single bite. With slow, precise movements, she reached for a slice of bread, her fingers grazing the crust as she wiped it across the plate. The sauce clung to the bread, and her hand hovered briefly, giving you a moment to take in every detail. Her thumb brushed the corner of her lips, catching a stray drop, and she brought it to her mouth, her tongue flicking out to savor the taste. The deliberate sensuality of her actions left you breathless, your throat tightening as you watched her savor every moment.

Her moan, soft and nearly inaudible, carried a weight that rippled through you. Her lashes fluttered as she took another bite of the bread, her eyes flickering between her plate and your stunned expression. The air around you felt heavy, charged with an unspoken energy that seemed to pull the two of you into a world entirely separate from the bustling restaurant around you.

“J-Jieun…” you stammered, your voice barely audible as you struggled to process what you were witnessing. She didn’t respond immediately. Instead, her lips curved into a wicked smile, the kind that spoke volumes without uttering a single word. Her gaze locked onto yours, holding you captive as she took one last, deliberate bite. The faint sheen on her lips as she licked them clean sent a fresh wave of heat through you.

Her hand moved back to the plate, her motions meticulous as she gathered the last traces of sauce. The bread soaked up every remaining bit, and she bit into it with a quiet satisfaction that left you frozen in place. Her confidence was magnetic, radiating an energy that drew your attention to every small, calculated movement she made.

The clink of silverware and the low hum of the restaurant faded into the background as you were entirely consumed by her presence. Jieun, usually so composed and polished, was utterly unrestrained. This wasn’t a moment crafted for the public—it was raw, private, and intoxicatingly real.

Just then, the waiter returned to clear the plates, his demeanor polite and professional. Jieun’s expression shifted seamlessly. Her innocent, disarming smile—the one that had charmed millions—lit up her face as she glanced up at him, her eyes sparkling with a hidden delight.

“That was the best pasta sauce I’ve ever had,” she said sweetly, her voice light and cheerful, the very picture of composure. The subtle glance she shot your way was enough to make you nearly choke on your wine, her grin sparkling with barely concealed mischief.

The waiter nodded and thanked her, oblivious as he moved on, leaving the two of you alone once more. The tension between you crackled in the air with a new found energy that left you speechless. Jieun leaned back in her chair, taking a slow sip of her water, her lips glistening as her gaze lingered on yours.

For Jieun, the moment felt like a revelation. She had stepped outside the rigid mold that had defined her for so long, reclaiming a piece of herself that no one else could see. This was an adventure she wouldn’t soon forget, a memory that would stay with her long after the night ended. Her heart swelled with a sense of freedom, the knowledge that tonight, she had lived—not as the nation’s innocent idol, but as herself.

Once the meal was finished and the table cleared, the tension between you and Jieun reached a fever pitch. Every glance, every fleeting touch throughout dinner had been building to this moment. It felt as though the two of you had been balancing on a razor’s edge of anticipation, and neither of you could wait any longer. As the waiter placed the receipt on the table, you exchanged a quick, charged look, your hearts pounding in unison.

As you stood to leave, Jieun’s fingers brushed against yours, the simple touch igniting a surge of heat that rippled through you. The two of you began making your way toward the restaurant’s back hallway, where the restrooms were discreetly located. The air between you crackled with unspoken intent, your pace quickening slightly as if each step brought you closer to the inevitable release of all the pent-up tension.

Just as you passed the bar, Jieun’s movements faltered for a split second. Her gaze flicked toward a woman seated at one of the corner tables. The woman’s profile—delicate jawline, loose waves cascading down her shoulders—was partially obscured by the low-hanging light fixtures, but it was enough to make Jieun’s breath catch. Her pulse quickened as recognition bloomed in her chest. It looked just like Seulgi.

For a brief moment, Jieun’s thoughts veered away from you. The possibility of her close friend, her fellow idol, sitting just meters away sent a nervous flutter through her. What was she doing here? Was it really her? A pang of unease clashed with the heat she still felt from your earlier teasing. Her eyes lingered on the woman for a heartbeat longer, her lips parting slightly in surprise.

“Jieun?” you murmured, glancing back as you noticed her sudden hesitation.

She blinked, her lips pressing together as if to steady herself. Shaking her head, she whispered softly, “It’s nothing.” A faint flush crept across her cheeks, though whether it was from the thought of Seulgi or the tension building between the two of you, she wasn’t entirely sure. “Let’s go.”

As she turned her focus back to you, her fingers brushed yours again, and the electricity between you reignited. The thought of Seulgi was fleeting; the pull of the moment was far too strong to resist. Whatever she’d seen—or thought she’d seen—didn’t matter now. All that mattered was the shared anticipation, the magnetic force drawing the two of you closer. Nothing else could break the spell.

Once inside the women’s restroom, the intensity reached its breaking point. The door shut behind you, and the air between you seemed to crackle with electricity. Without a word, you pulled Jieun close, your lips crashing into hers with an urgency that left no room for hesitation. Her hands gripped the back of your neck as she melted into you, her breath hitching with each movement.

Your hands slid to her thighs, gripping her firmly as you lifted her effortlessly. Her legs wrapped tightly around your waist, locking you into her as her body shifted into position. Her arms clasped behind your neck, her fingers interlacing to steady herself. She arched slightly, her body horizontal to yours as she hung off you, her back supported by your strong grip on her hips.

Jieun tilted her head back, her hair spilling in waves as her body swayed slightly with each adjustment. If she tilted her head further, she could see the world upside down, the thrilling perspective only adding to the sense of wild abandon that pulsed between you.

With one hand, you shifted her skirt higher, the silky fabric gathering around her hips to reveal the dampened lace beneath. The sight alone sent a surge of heat through your veins, your breathing growing heavier as you reached down to slide the fabric aside. The softness of her skin, already slick with arousal, was like fire against your fingertips. She gasped softly, her voice trembling with anticipation, as she instinctively pressed closer to you. Her thighs squeezed around your hips, their warmth and tension radiating through you, a silent plea for more.

The heat between her legs was unmistakable, her need palpable in the way her body trembled against yours. The faint, intoxicating scent of her arousal mingled with the cool, slightly briny air of the aquarium, creating a heady mix that left your senses spinning.

“You’re already so wet,” you whispered, your voice a low growl against her ear. Your thumb brushed lightly against her folds, feeling the slickness there. “All of this just for me?”

Jieun let out a shaky laugh, her lips curving into a wicked smile even as her breaths came faster. “You know it is,” she murmured, her voice breathy and tinged with hunger. “You’ve been driving me crazy all night.”

“Good,” you growled, your grip on her hips tightening possessively. “Because I’m not holding back anymore.”

With deliberate precision, you positioned yourself at her entrance, her body eagerly yielding as you pushed inside her with one smooth motion. The heat and tightness enveloped you, drawing a deep groan from your chest as her gasp turned into a soft, breathy moan. Her legs tightened instinctively around your waist, pulling you closer, and her back arched slightly, the motion perfectly aligning your bodies.

“Oh, my God,” she whimpered, her voice trembling with every syllable. “You feel… so good.”

You gripped her hips firmly, guiding her movements as you began to thrust, each motion sending her rocking slightly in your arms. Her breath came in short, desperate gasps, her chest pressing against you as her arms locked tightly behind your neck. The friction of her skin against yours, the flushed warmth of her cheeks, and the quiver in her voice with every moan heightened your desire.

“You like this, don’t you?” you murmured, your voice rough with need as you leaned closer, your lips grazing the delicate curve of her ear. “Hanging off me, completely at my mercy.”

“Yes,” she gasped, her voice breaking with raw desire as her head tilted back, exposing the graceful curve of her neck. “I love it… you’re so deep.”

Her hair swayed with each movement, the strands brushing against your hands as you held her firmly. The soft glow of the lights reflected in her flushed skin, her trembling frame completely in sync with you. Every thrust seemed to delve deeper, pulling louder moans and broken cries from her lips.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” you groaned, your lips trailing down to her neck. You left small, heated kisses along her skin, your teeth grazing lightly as you marked her. The faint tang of her skin, mingled with the heady scent of her arousal, lingered on your tongue, adding to the overwhelming intensity of the moment. “I could keep you like this all night.”

Her moans grew louder, her nails digging into the back of your neck as she clung to you, her body trembling uncontrollably. “God,” she breathed, her voice quivering with desperation. “You’re going to make me… I’m so close.”

Your hands dug into her hips, your movements becoming more deliberate as you pulled her onto you with each powerful thrust. The tightness of her body, the way her thighs clung to you as though she were holding on for dear life, and her cries echoing off the walls around you—all of it pushed you closer to the edge.

“You’re close?” you teased, your voice dripping with dominance as you nipped at her ear. “Then let me feel it. Let me feel you fall apart for me.”

Her body shook violently in your arms, her legs tightening as tremors began to course through her. Her breath hitched, and her cries turned into soft, desperate gasps as she teetered on the edge. “Yes… yes,” she whimpered, her voice trembling with need, her hips bucking against you in frantic, erratic motions. She was so close, the tension within her building to an unbearable crescendo—

Then, the bathroom door creaked open.

Both of you froze, your breaths catching as the sound of footsteps echoed against the tiled floor. Jieun’s hand flew to her mouth, stifling a gasp as her wide eyes met yours in panic. Her heart pounded so loudly she was certain whoever had just walked in could hear it.

The footsteps paused just outside your stall. The figure on the other side of the door lingered, and you could feel Jieun’s body tense against yours as the thrill of being caught sent a shiver through her.

Outside, Seulgi stood by the sink, her sharp gaze sweeping the room. She noticed a familiar pair of shoes peeking out from under the stall door—ones she had seen Jieun wear many times before. She stepped closer, her curiosity piqued.

Then, from inside the stall, a faint, muffled gasp slipped out, catching Seulgi’s attention. Her brow furrowed as she stopped mid-step. “Are you okay in there?” she called out, her voice tinged with genuine worry.

Jieun’s eyes widened at the sound of Seulgi’s voice. Panic flashed across her face, but the edge of excitement mingled with it. She took a quick, steadying breath, her voice trembling slightly as she replied, “Y-Yes! I’m fine!”

Seulgi tilted her head, unconvinced. “You sure? You sound… a little out of breath,” she pressed, her tone filled with concern and curiosity.

You tightened your grip on Jieun, your hands steadying her trembling frame as the heat between you built impossibly higher. Leaning in, you whispered against her ear, “She’s not leaving… Maybe you should let her hear just how fine you really feel.” Your breath was hot against her flushed skin, sending another shiver down her spine. Her thighs tightened instinctively around your hips as your teasing words pushed her closer to the edge.

Jieun’s lips parted in a soft gasp, her breath trembling as you resumed your deep, deliberate thrusts. The tight, intimate space of the stall heightened every sensation, the tension making her body more sensitive with every passing second. Her nails dug into your shoulders, her attempt to steady herself faltering as her need became overwhelming.

Seulgi knocked again, her voice cutting through the charged air. “Are you sure you’re okay in there? Should I come in and check on you?” she asked, her tone laced with concern.

Jieun’s voice wavered as she bit down on her lip, fighting to keep the telltale sounds of her pleasure in check. “No!” she said sharply, her tone a mix of panic and desperation. “I’m… I’m fine. Really.”

You leaned in closer, your lips grazing her ear as you murmured, “You’re doing so well… but she’s not buying it. Let her hear just enough.” Your hips moved harder, deeper, your thrusts slow and precise, amplifying the heat coursing through her.

“Absolutely sure?” Seulgi asked, her tone dipping with suspicion now.

Jieun struggled to respond, her voice barely steady as she whispered, “Yes… please, just go…”

Seulgi hesitated on the other side of the stall, her voice softening into a teasing lilt. “ Wait…Jieun?” she called, the curiosity in her tone unmistakable.

Jieun’s body stiffened in your arms, her wide eyes darting up to meet yours in panic. Her breathing hitched, her fingers tightening against your back. The moment froze between you, her lips forming silent protests as she desperately tried to compose herself.

The silence outside the stall stretched for a moment before the faint sound of Seulgi rummaging through her bag filled the air. “Let’s see…” she murmured, and Jieun’s entire body tensed further.

Then, the sudden chime of Jieun’s phone shattered the tension. The ringtone echoed loudly in the stall, leaving no room for doubt. Seulgi’s soft laugh followed, rich with amusement and certainty. “Ah-ha! I knew it!” she exclaimed, her tone turning playful. “Jieun, don’t even try to deny it now.”

The thrill of recognition, the undeniable fact that she’d been caught, only fueled Jieun’s excitement. Her breath hitched as the sensation inside her built impossibly fast, a crescendo she could no longer resist. Her head tilted back, her arms clasping tighter behind your neck, and her legs gripped your waist with desperate intensity. Suspended in your arms, her body was entirely under your control, each thrust driving her higher and higher. The tension inside her snapped abruptly, like a dam breaking under relentless pressure.

“Fuck!” she gasped, her voice cracking with the force of her release as her climax hit like a tidal wave, consuming her completely. Her body tensed in your grip, every muscle taut as if caught in a moment of suspended time, before trembling violently with the sheer power of her orgasm. Her back arched sharply, pressing her chest against yours, her nails digging into your shoulders in a desperate attempt to ground herself amidst the storm of sensation.

Her moans, though choked and stifled against the urgency of the moment, escaped in raw, broken gasps, each one betraying the depth of her pleasure. Her thighs quivered uncontrollably around your waist, gripping you tightly as if to hold onto the intensity coursing through her. The wet heat of her arousal soaked through, a vivid reminder of just how deeply lost she was in the moment.

You gripped her hips firmly, your fingers pressing into her soft skin as you slowed your movements, keeping her steady while her body pulsed around you. Her walls clenched rhythmically, each spasm sending aftershocks rippling through her trembling frame. Her head tilted back further, her hair spilling in loose waves as her mouth hung open, releasing breathless whimpers between shallow, uneven breaths.

Her chest heaved against yours, her flushed skin damp with the sheen of exertion, each shuddering gasp a testament to the force of her release. Her trembling legs, once locked tightly around your waist, began to relax slightly as the waves of her climax slowly began to ebb. Still, her body quaked with the lingering echoes of pleasure, the aftershocks leaving her utterly spent in your arms.

“Good girl,” you murmured, your voice low and steady, a grounding force against the chaos of her sensations. “Let it all out. I’ve got you.”

Jieun whimpered softly in response, her grip on your shoulders loosening as her body melted into yours. Her head slumped forward, resting in the crook of your neck as she clung to you, her breath warm and uneven against your skin. The final ripples of her climax left her trembling, her body completely surrendered to the safety of your embrace as the intensity gradually faded into a blissful calm.

Just as her breathing began to steady, the quiet of the stall was interrupted by a soft, amused voice that broke the moment and sent a new wave of tension through the air.

She glanced up at you, her wide eyes filled with a mix of embarrassment and exhilaration. The reality of being caught, of Seulgi knowing exactly what was happening, sent another thrill coursing through her, even as she struggled to collect herself.

Jieun bit her lip, her chest still heaving as her gaze darted toward the stall door. Her body trembled slightly from the lingering aftershocks of her release, but her determination shone through the blush on her cheeks. After a brief hesitation, she nodded at you with shaky resolve. Releasing one hand from behind your neck, she reached out and unlocked the stall door, letting it swing open just enough.

The faint creak of the door was followed by Seulgi’s sharp intake of breath. Her gaze swept over the scene, her lips parting as her eyes widened, taking in the full picture. Jieun, leaning against you in disheveled perfection, her tousled hair framing a face flushed with both exertion and satisfaction. Her lips were swollen from kisses, and her breath came in soft, uneven gasps. The afterglow of her climax clung to her like a halo, her vulnerability mingling with the undeniable satisfaction in her posture.

Your hands remained firmly on her waist, holding her possessively against you as you watched Seulgi’s expression shift from surprise to something deeper—curiosity, intrigue, and unmistakable arousal. Seulgi’s eyes lingered, taking in every detail: the way Jieun’s head rested lightly on your shoulder, the way her chest still rose and fell with each shaky breath, the way the tension in the air crackled with unspoken possibilities.

“Wow…” Seulgi murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “I… didn’t realize you two were having this much fun.”

A flicker of heat crossed her face as her gaze met Jieun’s. The intensity of the moment hung between the three of you, the shared secret drawing you closer as Seulgi’s words carried a weight that promised more to come.

Jieun’s cheeks flushed even deeper, but she didn’t look away. Her expression was a captivating mix of embarrassment and exhilaration, her lingering gaze on Seulgi carrying an unspoken acknowledgment of the moment they were all sharing. The tension hung thick in the air, a silent invitation sparking between the three of you, leaving possibilities none of you had fully anticipated.

Seulgi’s lips parted as if to speak, but instead, she leaned in slightly, her voice teasing yet laced with genuine intrigue. “Well… don’t let me stop you. But maybe… next time, let me know,” she murmured, her words hovering between jest and curiosity. A faint smile played on her lips as she stepped back, her eyes flicking between you and Jieun.

Jieun’s breath was beginning to steady, the tremors from her recent release softening into an undeniable confidence. Her initial embarrassment faded, replaced with a playful boldness. She met Seulgi’s gaze, her pulse quickening at the sight of her friend’s barely concealed intrigue. Her lips curved into a mischievous smile, her voice light yet deliberate. “Well… if you’re in the mood… maybe ‘next time’ could be now?”

Seulgi’s eyes widened slightly, her cheeks flushing as the invitation sank in. The spark in Jieun’s eyes, combined with her confident posture as she leaned into you, made it clear this wasn’t a passing suggestion. Seulgi’s gaze darted between the two of you, her composure momentarily faltering as the thrill of the situation hit her.

“You’re serious?” she asked softly, her tone a mix of intrigue and nervous hesitation. Her eyes flicked to Jieun, then to you, before landing somewhere between the two of you as if searching for confirmation.

Jieun stepped forward, her confidence radiating as she gently took Seulgi’s hand in hers. “Come on,” she said softly, her tone both playful and reassuring. Without giving Seulgi much time to question it, Jieun tugged her toward the larger disability stall at the end of the restroom. With a glance back at you and a small, knowing smile, she nudged Seulgi inside, and the three of you slipped into the space together. Jieun turned the lock with a firm, decisive click, the sound seeming to seal the shared moment.

Inside the stall, Seulgi’s eyes traveled over Jieun, taking in every detail: her tousled hair, her flushed cheeks, and the easy way she leaned into you with a comfortable intimacy that felt utterly magnetic. The raw closeness of the scene left Seulgi’s pulse racing, her nerves mingling with curiosity as she stood still, unsure of what to do next.

Jieun didn’t hesitate. Moving closer to Seulgi, she offered a teasing smile, her hand brushing lightly down Seulgi’s arm in a touch that was both gentle and deliberate. “Don’t be shy, Seulgi,” Jieun murmured, her voice soft yet laced with playful confidence. “You’re with us.”

Seulgi’s cheeks grew pinker, her breath hitching slightly as she glanced down at Jieun’s hand resting lightly on her arm. “I just… I mean… I was sort of joking earlier,” she admitted, her words trailing off as her voice softened with hesitation.

Jieun let out a quiet, melodic laugh, her confidence shining as she tilted her head, her gaze warm and inviting. “Oh, I think you’re going to like this,” she replied, her tone light yet charged with meaning. Her hand slid upward, brushing a strand of hair from Seulgi’s face. Her movements were deliberate, her fingers lingering as she added in a softer voice, “Just relax.”

Before Seulgi could respond, Jieun leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, her lips lingering for a moment before pulling back. Her smile deepened as she met Seulgi’s gaze, her expression filled with encouragement and boldness. “See?” Jieun whispered, her tone playful but reassuring.

With that, the space between all three of you seemed to dissolve completely. Each touch and glance was filled with shared anticipation as Seulgi fully joined in, her hands and lips meeting yours and Jieun’s, bringing an added layer of intensity to the moment. The larger stall seemed to shrink as the three of you moved together, every movement deliberate and filled with unspoken understanding.

Inside the confined space, the air was heavy with warmth and the intoxicating blend of perfume, sweat, and raw desire. Seulgi leaned back against the tiled wall, her cheeks flushed with heat, her chest rising and falling with quickened breaths. Her wide eyes flicked between you and Jieun, glinting with a mixture of boldness and nerves. She bit her lower lip, the gesture as much an attempt to steady herself as it was an invitation.

Jieun, sensing Seulgi’s hesitance, stepped closer, her hands finding their way to Seulgi’s waist. Her touch was firm yet gentle as she began sliding her hands upward, finding the hem of Seulgi’s blouse. “Let me help,” Jieun whispered, her voice warm and encouraging as she guided the fabric up and over Seulgi’s head. Seulgi lifted her arms obediently, her lips parting slightly as her breath hitched.

The soft light of the stall illuminated Seulgi’s now-exposed skin, her collarbone glistening faintly, and the hint of nervous excitement in her eyes deepened. Jieun smiled reassuringly, leaning in to place a featherlight kiss on Seulgi’s shoulder before her hands moved lower. With practiced ease, Jieun unfastened Seulgi’s skirt, letting it pool around her ankles. Seulgi’s hands rested lightly on Jieun’s shoulders for balance, her chest rising and falling as the cool air kissed her exposed thighs.

“You’re beautiful,” Jieun murmured, her words tender but brimming with sincerity as she traced her fingers along the waistband of Seulgi’s panties, stopping just shy of pulling them down. The intimacy of the moment drew Seulgi’s gaze down to meet Jieun’s, her lips trembling slightly as she nodded silently.

Jieun leaned in, brushing her lips against Seulgi’s in a kiss that was both gentle and charged, her hands moving to steady Seulgi as she stepped out of her skirt. With one last glance up at her, Jieun pulled the delicate fabric of Seulgi’s panties down, leaving her fully bare and vulnerable between the two of you.

Seulgi shivered slightly, whether from the cool air or the overwhelming intensity of the moment, it was impossible to tell. But the way her hands instinctively reached for yours and Jieun’s spoke volumes. The three of you stood close, the weight of the moment heavy but electrifying, as Seulgi’s walls melted away completely under your shared attention.

When you positioned yourself closer, Seulgi’s voice broke the silence, soft and trembling. “Do you… have a condom?” she asked, her gaze flicking between you and Jieun. You exchanged a quick glance with Jieun, shaking your heads almost in unison.

Seulgi hesitated only for a second before her lips curved into a daring smile. Her eyes darted back to yours as she murmured, “Then… maybe we can still make this work if… we try it another way.”

Her suggestion lingered in the air, sparking a new thrill between the three of you. Moving with deliberate ease, Seulgi wrapped her arms around your neck, her body pressing closer against yours. Her skin was warm beneath your touch as she lifted one leg, hooking it high, her calf resting against your shoulder. The stretch of her body was graceful yet provocative, her other foot planted firmly on the tiled floor for balance. The position opened her to you completely, her breath hitching as your hands found her hips to steady her.

Her back arched slightly, her head tipping back against the cool wall as she adjusted to the new position. Her breath was a soft gasp, her cheeks glowing with both arousal and the vulnerability of being completely exposed. The angle gave her a sense of surrender that only heightened her excitement, her hands resting on your shoulders for support, fingers occasionally curling into your skin.

Jieun, watching with a playful smile, stepped closer. Her hands glided up Seulgi’s outstretched thigh, her touch light and teasing, drawing a soft, shuddering breath from Seulgi. “Relax,” Jieun murmured, her voice smooth and reassuring. “You’re going to love this.”

As you positioned yourself, the tip of your length pressed against the tight ring of Seulgi’s entrance. Her breath hitched sharply, her body instinctively tensing as her fingers gripped your shoulders for support. Slowly, deliberately, you began to push forward. The resistance was immediate—her muscles taut and trembling as they struggled to accommodate you. Every inch was an exploration, a careful coaxing as her body gradually yielded to the pressure, her tightness embracing you with a searing, almost overwhelming intensity.

Seulgi’s eyes fluttered closed, her lips parting in a silent gasp as she felt herself stretch in ways she never had before. The sensation was intense—an unfamiliar mix of pressure and fullness that sent sparks of heat coursing through her. Each millimeter seemed to awaken new nerves, her mind reeling as she adjusted to the unrelenting stretch.

“Oh…” The sound escaped her as a soft, unsteady whisper, her voice laced with awe. Her brows knitted together in concentration, her cheeks flushing deeper with every passing second. Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, each exhale trembling as the pressure inside her built, sending shivers along her spine. “I didn’t think… it would feel like this…” she admitted, her voice quivering with both astonishment and growing pleasure.

Her fingers clutched at your shoulders, their grip firm as if anchoring herself against the rush of sensations. Her moans began quietly, tentative and exploratory, like a melody being discovered. But as her body softened to you, the sounds grew, confidence unfurling with each passing moment. Jieun, ever attentive, leaned closer, her soft lips finding Seulgi’s collarbone, trailing playful, delicate kisses along her flushed skin. The attention made Seulgi shudder, her breath catching as she melted further into the moment.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Jieun whispered, her voice a sultry thread of encouragement against Seulgi’s ear. The words sent a visible tremor through her, her spine arching slightly, her body instinctively moving in rhythm with yours as she nodded, her movements hesitant but full of yearning.

“Yes… he’s… so big…” Seulgi murmured breathlessly, her voice breaking into a soft moan as you deepened your pace. Her inner muscles fluttered with every purposeful thrust, the exquisite tightness heightening the intensity of every movement. Her leg, stretched high on your shoulder, offered the perfect angle for deeper, more deliberate strokes, each motion drawing a gasp or a trembling sigh from her lips. Her flushed cheeks and trembling frame spoke of the raw honesty of her surrender, the moment etched with vulnerability and desire.

The tightness of the position amplified every sensation, each thrust an intense, electric connection between you. Seulgi’s flushed cheeks glowed, her half-lidded eyes shining with vulnerability and pleasure. Jieun’s hands caressed her thigh, the warmth of her touch grounding yet teasing as she leaned in, her presence anchoring Seulgi in the storm of overwhelming sensations.

“I… I can’t believe this…” Seulgi whispered, her voice breathless and tinged with awe. Her lips brushed your shoulder as she spoke, her body trembling as she clung to you and Jieun for support, completely immersed in the moment.

Jieun’s lips pressed a gentle kiss to Seulgi’s temple, her fingers threading through Seulgi’s damp hair. “You’re doing amazing,” she murmured, her tone soft yet edged with playful confidence. The reassurance brought a flicker of a smile to Seulgi’s lips, even as another gasping cry escaped her, her body arching into your deepening rhythm.

The air around you was thick with heat and intimacy, the cramped stall brimming with a charged energy that left none of you untouched. Seulgi’s moans grew louder, her voice rising with each deliberate movement, her hands clutching you with an almost desperate intensity. Her body moved instinctively with yours, a perfect harmony of push and pull, tension and release, as she surrendered completely to the moment.

Not stopping there, Jieun slid gracefully to her knees, the cold tiles sending a slight shiver through her as the warmth radiating from Seulgi’s trembling body pulled her in. Her eyes glinted with mischief as they locked onto Seulgi’s, taking in her flushed cheeks, parted lips, and the way her breaths came in short, desperate gasps. Seulgi’s composure was completely undone, her vulnerability and desire laid bare.

“You really are breathtaking, Seulgi,” Jieun murmured, her voice a low caress that sent a visible shiver through her. The words left Seulgi speechless, her lips trembling as she tried to form a response, but only a quiet, shaky exhale escaped. Jieun smirked, trailing her fingers teasingly along Seulgi’s thighs before spreading them gently, exposing her completely.

As you maintained your deep, steady rhythm, Seulgi’s body rocked against yours, her soft cries and gasps reverberating through the confined space. Her head tilted back, her hair cascading as her lips parted further, releasing trembling breaths. Her body was taut with anticipation, every nerve heightened as she felt the building intensity.

Jieun leaned in, her warm breath brushing against Seulgi’s slick entrance, sending a jolt through her already trembling frame. With deliberate care, Jieun placed a soft, exploratory kiss against her folds, her lips moving gently over the sensitive skin. The sensation drew a broken gasp from Seulgi, her hips twitching as the unfamiliar yet overwhelming attention consumed her.

Jieun’s tongue followed, warm and languid, tracing slow, deliberate strokes along Seulgi’s folds. The taste of her arousal lingered on Jieun’s tongue as she savored each movement, her hands gripping Seulgi’s thighs firmly to hold her steady. Seulgi whimpered, her fingers clutching at your shoulders for support, her body trembling as the sensations intensified.

“Look at you,” Jieun murmured between strokes, her voice dripping with teasing admiration. “So perfect… so ready for us.”

The gentle pressure of Jieun’s tongue against her folds, combined with your deliberate, steady thrusts, pushed Seulgi closer to the edge. Her breathing became erratic, her body pressing instinctively into Jieun’s touch. The warmth of Jieun’s breath, the slick glide of her tongue, and the way you filled her deeply created a symphony of sensations that left Seulgi completely undone.

Her soft moans turned to pleading gasps, her thighs trembling in Jieun’s hold as her body gave in to the rising tide of pleasure. Each stroke of Jieun’s tongue and the firm grip of your hands guided her higher, her movements increasingly erratic as she teetered on the brink. The intensity between the three of you was electric, each moment drawing Seulgi deeper into the overwhelming heat of the moment.

Jieun’s mouth moved with deliberate care, her tongue tracing intricate patterns along Seulgi, each movement soft but purposeful. Seulgi’s body stiffened at the sensation, her breaths hitching as Jieun’s warm tongue explored her slick entrance. The delicate, tantalizing strokes made her hips roll instinctively, chasing the sensation with unrestrained need.

Seulgi’s body rocked against you, her back arching slightly as every motion elicited a soft, breathy moan that echoed off the tiled walls. Her hands clutched at your shoulders, her nails digging into your skin as her head fell back, her neck arching gracefully. Her features were completely unguarded, a beautiful display of raw vulnerability and pleasure.

“Please,” she whimpered, her voice trembling and barely audible. “I… I can’t—oh my god…”

“You can take it,” you growled softly, your hands tightening on her hips to keep her steady. The authority in your voice sent a shiver through her, her body trembling with both anticipation and surrender.

Jieun’s lips curved into a knowing smile against Seulgi’s entrance before she adjusted her rhythm, her tongue flicking and gliding in perfect harmony with your deep, steady thrusts. The attention was unrelenting, every stroke of her tongue deliberate and calculated to draw Seulgi closer to the edge. Her lips brushed over Seulgi’s heated skin, pressing gentle kisses between each motion, teasing her further.

Seulgi’s cries grew higher and more desperate, her body responding with an unrestrained fervor as the tension inside her built to an unbearable peak. Her hands tightened around your shoulders, her nails digging into your skin as if anchoring herself against the storm of sensations. Her legs shook against you, the tremors a physical testament to her escalating need, her entire body teetering on the edge.

“Oh, fuck!” she gasped suddenly, her voice cracking as her climax surged through her like a tidal wave. Her entire frame went rigid, her muscles tightening as if time itself had momentarily stopped. You felt it vividly—the tight ring of her ass quivered and pulsed around you, each contraction squeezing you in rhythm with her release, her body responding instinctively to the depth of your connection. The sheer intensity of it sent a jolt of pleasure coursing through you, the primal intimacy almost overwhelming.

Jieun, still nestled between Seulgi’s trembling thighs, felt the flood of sensation in her own way. The slick folds of Seulgi’s center quivered against Jieun’s lips, the trembling warmth transmitting every pulse of her orgasm. Jieun couldn’t help but smile against her, the quaking response like a song of pleasure only she could hear and feel. Her tongue slowed its movements, offering gentle, soothing strokes that coaxed Seulgi through the peaks and valleys of her release.

Seulgi’s body shook violently, her thighs squeezing around Jieun’s shoulders as her hands clutched desperately at you for stability. Her cries, muffled against your neck, were raw and trembling, each one punctuated by the rhythmic spasms that overtook her. The sheer force of her orgasm left her breathless, her chest heaving against yours as the ripples of her climax spread through her like aftershocks.

Her head tilted back slightly, her face glowing with the intensity of her release, her damp hair clinging to her flushed cheeks. Her lips parted as she let out a final, soft whimper, her body collapsing into your arms. The lingering tremors in her muscles and the warmth radiating from her skin made her feel utterly fragile and entirely yours in that moment.

As Seulgi’s body began to come down from her high, her trembling legs and quivering muscles spoke of the overwhelming climax she’d just experienced. Her chest rose and fell in rapid breaths, her head resting momentarily on your shoulder as her arms clung to you for stability. The aftershocks rippled through her, each small convulsion eliciting a soft gasp or whimper.

But you weren’t ready to stop. You continued to thrust into her, your movements slow but deliberate, drawing new waves of sensation from her already oversensitive body. Her nails dug into your shoulders as she let out a breathless moan, her voice laced with surprise and surrender.

“I-I’m so sensitive,” she whimpered, her voice trembling as you held her steady. Yet, even through her overstimulation, there was a flicker of hunger in her tone, a silent invitation for more.

Jieun, ever attentive, leaned in close, pressing a soft kiss to Seulgi’s temple as her fingers slid along Seulgi’s slick, trembling thighs. “You’re not done yet,” Jieun whispered, her voice teasing and sultry. “We’re going to make you feel everything.”

Slipping two inside Seulgi with practiced ease. The slick heat welcomed her instantly, and with a deft curl, she pressed against Seulgi’s g-spot, her movements precise and rhythmic. Seulgi gasped sharply, her back arching as her overstimulated nerves sparked to life again. Her moans grew louder, breathless cries that filled the stall as Jieun’s fingers pumped steadily.

“You like this, don’t you?” Jieun murmured against Seulgi’s flushed skin, her lips brushing just below her navel. “You like the way my boyfriend’s cock feels inside you. Look at how good you’re taking him.”

Seulgi’s moans grew louder, her hips bucking against both you and Jieun’s relentless rhythm. “Y-Yes,” she gasped, her voice trembling, “oh my God, yes…”

Jieun smirked, her confidence growing as she saw Seulgi unravel. Her fingers pumped faster, the slick, wet sounds echoing in the confined space. “That’s it,” Jieun whispered, her tone a mix of teasing and command. “You’re going to cum so hard for us, aren’t you? You’re going to show us just how much you love being filled like this.”

“Oh fuck… I can’t…” Seulgi whimpered, her head falling back against the stall wall, her body tightening as the overwhelming sensations built to an unbearable peak. Her cries turned desperate, her legs trembling as her free leg strained for balance while the one on your shoulder quivered violently.

Jieun’s lips descended further, her warm breath brushing Seulgi’s sensitive flesh before her mouth captured Seulgi’s clit. The sensation was immediate and devastating. Jieun’s tongue swirled and flicked with skill, her lips sealing tightly as she sucked gently, intensifying the pleasure radiating through Seulgi’s body. Her fingers inside Seulgi never faltered, each curl and thrust perfectly timed to push her closer to the edge.

“You’re going to cum for us again, one last time,” Jieun said against her, her voice muffled but dripping with authority. “Come on, let go. I want to feel you fall apart.”

The combination of Jieun’s relentless mouth, her fingers stroking Seulgi’s most sensitive spot, and your deep, steady thrusts was an intoxicating overload. Seulgi’s cries grew louder, her body jerking uncontrollably as she clutched at both of you. Her nails dug into your shoulders and Jieun’s hair as she gasped.

Her inner muscles clenched around you with an intensity that bordered on overwhelming, the rhythmic pulsing pulling you deeper into her. Her voice broke into a scream as every nerve in her body seemed to ignite with pleasure. Jieun, ever attentive, stayed locked onto Seulgi’s clit, her tongue flicking with precision, her fingers curling harder, pushing Seulgi to the precipice of an entirely new realm of sensation.

Jieun noticed how close you were as well, her keen intuition picking up on every subtle shift in your breath and movement. Lifting her head briefly from Seulgi’s clit, her lips glistening with Seulgi’s arousal, she didn’t pause for long. Her thumb immediately replaced her mouth, rubbing firm, deliberate circles over the swollen nub. Her movements were precise, each stroke designed to maintain the building tension in Seulgi’s trembling body.

Jieun’s fingers never faltered, pumping rhythmically inside Seulgi, curling just right to press against her g-spot with unrelenting precision. Seulgi’s breath hitched, her hips rocking against Jieun’s hand as her cries grew more desperate. Jieun leaned in again, her mischievous eyes flicking up to meet yours, a smirk playing at the corners of her damp lips.

Then, with a wicked glint in her eye, Jieun shifted her focus. Her tongue flicked out, delicate and teasing, as she leaned toward you. Her warm breath ghosted over your sensitive entrance before her tongue made contact, tracing slow, deliberate circles around the tight ring of muscle. The sensation was electrifying, the wet warmth of her tongue contrasting with the overwhelming tightness of Seulgi’s body clenching around you.

Jieun’s tongue moved with exquisite care, alternating between firm pressure and featherlight strokes, each flick sending a shiver up your spine. She leaned in further, her hands steady on Seulgi as she balanced herself to focus on you fully. The way her tongue explored you was intimate, her motions filled with a mixture of playfulness and intent. She seemed to delight in your reaction, her soft hum of satisfaction vibrating faintly against you.

“Fuck, Jieun,” you groaned, your voice thick with raw pleasure. Your thrusts stuttered slightly, the dual sensation of Seulgi’s tightness and Jieun’s tender caress overwhelming every nerve.

She chuckled softly, her warm breath sent shivers down your spine as her tongue continued its wicked dance against your sensitive entrance. Her deliberate, teasing strokes were maddening, contrasting perfectly with the tight heat of Seulgi wrapped around you.

Seulgi’s body trembled violently, her breath catching in desperate gasps. Her thighs quivered against you, one hooked over your shoulder as her nails clawed at your back, anchoring herself through the overwhelming sensations. Every thrust sent her closer to the edge, her cries becoming higher and more frantic. “I-I can’t—oh God, I’m so close!” she whimpered, her voice trembling with anticipation.

Jieun lifted her head, pulling back from you with a wicked grin, her tongue flicking out to lick her lips. She shifted slightly, sitting back on her heels, her mischievous eyes locking onto Seulgi as she kept her thumb and fingers working with unrelenting skill. “Come on, Seulgi,” Jieun purred, her tone dripping with seduction. “Let go for us. Show me how much you like the way he fills you.”

Seulgi’s moans escalated into cries of desperation. Her muscles clenched around you tightly, her body arching as the overwhelming sensations pushed her over the precipice. “Oh my God, I’m—I’m—!” she screamed as the dam finally broke. Her climax hit like a storm, her body convulsing uncontrollably as a hot, sudden rush of fluid erupted from her, drenching Jieun completely.

The warm liquid sprayed over Jieun’s chest, face, and hair, the intensity of the release leaving Seulgi sobbing with pleasure. Her thighs trembled against you, her body went limp as she held onto you, trying to keep herself upright. “Oh fuck!” she gasped, her voice broken and raw as her body continued to quiver.

Jieun, her chest rising and falling with excitement, glanced down at herself, her lips curling into a playful smile as the liquid dripped down her skin. “Look at you,” she murmured, her voice husky and teasing. “So messy. So beautiful.”

The sight of Seulgi unraveling, her body shaking with unrestrained pleasure, was enough to tip you over the edge. Her leg, still stretched high on your shoulder, trembled violently, while the other pressed firmly against the floor for balance. Her pulsing, tight ring clenched around you, drawing you deeper into her as if her body refused to let go. The heat and rhythmic spasms of her climax were unlike anything you’d ever felt, sending you hurtling toward your own release. With a deep, guttural groan, you thrust into her one final time, the tension snapping as your release surged forward in a flood of warmth.

Seulgi’s breath hitched sharply, her nails digging into your shoulders as her body reacted to the unfamiliar sensation. Her half-lidded eyes fluttered shut, her lips parting as a soft, tremulous moan escaped her. The warmth of your release spread within her, filling her completely in a way she’d never experienced before. Her body shivered uncontrollably, her mind spinning as the sensation tipped her into a new wave of blissful aftershocks.

“Oh…wow” she murmured, her voice shaky and raw as her muscles quivered, every pulse drawing out the lingering heat inside her. The intimate sensation left her breathless, her head resting against your shoulder as she clung to you for support. Her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink as her body instinctively responded, each flutter of her muscles milking the last remnants of your release.

As you slowly began to withdraw, the sensitivity of the moment overwhelmed her. The gradual slide of your length, slick with the evidence of your union, caused her to gasp softly, her body shivering from the sudden emptiness. The cool air against her heated skin only heightened her awareness of the loss, the contrast stark and intimate. “I can feel…” she whispered, her voice barely audible, her head tilting forward in a dazed mix of wonder and exhaustion.

Her trembling legs struggled to support her as her body instinctively clenched, missing the warmth that had just left her. The sensation of your release still lingering within her was both strange and deeply satisfying, a reminder of the closeness you’d just shared.

Jieun, ever attentive, leaned forward with a soft, knowing smile. Her damp hair clung to her flushed cheeks as she trailed her lips down Seulgi’s trembling thigh, her breath warm and intimate against her oversensitive skin. With Seulgi’s leg still perched on your shoulder, her body open and exposed, Jieun moved closer, her tongue darting out to clean the traces of your release.

Seulgi’s entire body shuddered as she felt the warm, deliberate strokes of Jieun’s tongue against her stretched ring. The sensation was unlike anything she had experienced—intensely intimate and overwhelming, her muscles instinctively quivering with every pass of Jieun’s lips. The soft, wet sound of Jieun’s work, combined with the sensation of her tender scoops and lingering sucks, made Seulgi’s breath hitch. A quiet, trembling whimper escaped her as her hands reached out, weakly gripping Jieun’s hair, seeking something to ground her.

The slick warmth of Jieun’s tongue pressed delicately yet persistently, cleaning every inch of her sensitive skin. Seulgi could feel every flick and caress, her body responding involuntarily with a new wave of tremors as Jieun’s mouth worked its way methodically. Jieun’s lips brushed against the tender area, adding a mix of teasing and care that left Seulgi gasping softly, her legs threatening to give out entirely.

Once satisfied, Jieun leaned back slightly, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she licked her lips, savoring the remnants of your release and Seulgi’s arousal. Rising with a fluid grace, she moved toward Seulgi, her expression both predatory and affectionate. Reaching out, she cupped the back of Seulgi’s head, pulling her close until their faces were mere inches apart.

Seulgi’s breath hitched as Jieun closed the distance, capturing her lips in a fierce, passionate kiss. The intimacy of the act was electrifying, the lingering taste of your release mingling between them as their tongues intertwined in a fervent, hungry dance. Seulgi’s hands slid to Jieun’s waist, her grip weak but desperate as she melted into the kiss, her soft moans swallowed by Jieun’s relentless passion.

The taste of you lingered between Jieun and Seulgi, adding a raw intimacy to their kiss. It was fervent yet tender, their shared vulnerability creating a timeless moment between them. Jieun’s hand tangled in Seulgi’s hair, her grip firm but affectionate, grounding them both in the heat of the moment.

The sight was overwhelming. The way their lips moved together, the visible flick of their tongues during brief partings, and the way they shared your essence between them was intoxicating. Each flick of their tongues, every quiet gasp and hum of pleasure, felt magnetic, leaving you teetering on the edge of awe just from watching. The chemistry between them was undeniable, a perfect blend of curiosity and passion that left you captivated.

When their lips finally parted, a faint shimmer of your release still connected them, a delicate thread glistening briefly before Jieun licked it away with a soft hum, her smile warm and satisfied. She glanced at Seulgi, her eyes glowing with affection. “That was… something else,” she murmured, her voice carrying the weight of shared intimacy rather than teasing. Her tone was calm, almost reverent, as if she wanted the moment to linger.

Seulgi let out a breathy laugh, her cheeks still flushed as she leaned back against the cool stall wall for support. Her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, her legs trembling slightly as she tried to compose herself. “I don’t even know what to say,” she admitted, her voice soft but laced with lingering wonder. “That was… unforgettable. Completely.”

Jieun tucked a strand of damp hair behind her ear, her own breathing still settling. “Unforgettable,” she echoed, her smile softening. “Exactly what it should be.” Her gaze shifted to you briefly, filled with warmth, before returning to Seulgi. “I’m glad you were with us.”

Seulgi nodded, a quiet laugh escaping her as she smoothed down her clothes with trembling hands. “I think I’m the lucky one here,” she said, her voice filled with a mix of amusement and sincerity. “But we should probably… you know, clean up a little before someone notices.”

Jieun let out a small laugh, nodding as she adjusted her hair and straightened her outfit. Her reflection in the mirror caught your eye, her flushed cheeks and radiant smile making your heart swell. “Alright,” she said softly, her voice steady now. “Let’s do this without looking guilty, okay?”

Seulgi smirked, her composure slowly returning. “I’ll try,” she said with a chuckle. “But no promises.”

The three of you slipped out of the stall, moving as calmly as you could manage despite the thrill buzzing in the air between you. Each shared glance carried an unspoken agreement to keep cool, but the faint smiles tugging at your lips betrayed the adrenaline still rushing through you.

Just as you neared the door to the dining area, a loud, exasperated voice rang out, cutting through the hum of the restaurant like a sharp knife.

“Ugh, it reeks of sex in here! Who the hell did this?”

The words froze you all mid-step. Jieun slapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with mortified delight, barely stifling the laughter threatening to escape. Seulgi’s eyes darted to yours, her expression torn between panic and amusement. For a second, the three of you just stood there, caught like kids who’d been caught red-handed.

Then, as if on cue, the spell broke, and you bolted.

Laughter erupted from all of you as you sprinted through the dining area, the chaos unfolding in perfect synchronization. The manager’s head turned just in time to see you weaving between tables, his shout of, “Hey! Stop right there!” drowned out by the clatter of silverware and your uncontrollable laughter.

Jieun’s hand found yours, her grip firm as she tugged you forward. Her face was lit with exhilaration, her flushed cheeks glowing in the dim restaurant light. The door to the restaurant swung open with a loud bang, and the three of you burst into the cool night air.

None of you dared to look back as your footsteps echoed against the pavement. The adrenaline coursing through your veins mingled with an almost childlike joy, your collective laughter ringing out into the quiet street.

Turning a corner, you slowed to a stop, panting and leaning against the wall for support. Jieun’s head fell back, her laughter bubbling out uncontrollably, her eyes sparkling in the faint glow of a nearby streetlamp. Seulgi leaned forward, hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath, her own laughter interspersed with gasps.

“Oh my God,” Jieun gasped between breaths, her cheeks flushed with exhilaration. “Did we seriously just do that? What are we, teenagers?”

Seulgi, still laughing, shook her head. “Honestly, I’ve had wild nights before, but this? This takes the cake. You two are something else.”

Finally, your pace slowed as the street grew quieter, the laughter tapering off into soft chuckles. Seulgi stopped first, turning to face you and Jieun with a warm, mischievous smile.

“Thanks for letting me be part of this,” Seulgi said softly, breaking the quiet between the three of you. Her tone carried a sincerity that contrasted with her playful grin. She stepped closer, pressing a quick kiss to Jieun’s cheek, then yours. Her gaze lingered for a moment, her smile widening with mischief. “Don’t keep me waiting too long for the next one,” she teased, her voice light but filled with meaning.

Jieun blushed deeply but managed a smile. “We’ll let you know,” she replied, her voice tinged with warmth as she watched Seulgi step back.

Seulgi waved as she turned and headed down the street, disappearing into the glow of the city. The quiet hum of the night filled the space she left behind, and you felt Jieun’s hand tighten slightly around yours.

As you glanced down, Jieun tilted her head to meet your gaze, her eyes shimmering with unspoken gratitude. “I still can’t believe we just did that,” she murmured, her voice tinged with amazement. “I don’t think I ever would have… without you.”

You squeezed her hand, your smile soft and reassuring. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Jieun. You’re stronger and braver than you think.”

She laughed gently, the sound carrying a mix of disbelief and joy. “It’s because of you,” she admitted, her voice wavering slightly. “You make me feel brave. You make me want to really live—not just go through the motions, but actually feel alive.”

Her words hit you deeply, stirring something in your chest. You stopped walking, turning to face her fully. Reaching up, you tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, your touch lingering. “Jieun, you’ve always had that courage. All I’ve done is show you what’s already there. And I’ll keep reminding you of that—always.”

Her lips curved into a tender smile, her eyes glistening as she leaned into your touch. “You’ve changed my life,” she whispered. “I’ve never felt more like myself than I do with you.”

Pulling her into your arms, you held her close as the cool night air swirled around you. The soft glow of the streetlights painted her face in warm tones, and you couldn’t help but marvel at how serene and radiant she looked. Her usual composed, idol-like demeanor had melted away, replaced with raw, unfiltered happiness.

“I love you,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead, the words coming effortlessly.

Her cheeks flushed, her smile softening as she looked up at you. “I love you too,” she replied, her voice steady and full of emotion. “More than I ever thought I could love anyone.”

The moment stretched as the world seemed to fade around you, leaving just the two of you beneath the open sky. Her arms looped around your neck, and you leaned down to capture her lips in a kiss that was slow and meaningful. Every touch, every movement spoke of a love that was deep and enduring, a connection that went beyond words.

When the kiss finally broke, her forehead rested lightly against yours, her breath mingling with yours. The faint hum of the city seemed to pause, giving the moment its own space to exist. Her cheeks tinged with a deeper pink as she tapped your chest playfully. “You’re too good to me.”

“Not possible,” you said with a chuckle, pulling her closer. “You’re my everything.”

The two of you stood there, wrapped in the warmth of the night and each other. It was as though time had slowed, giving you a moment to fully appreciate the love that had grown between you. As you began to walk again, her hand snug in yours, she let out a soft laugh.

“You think we’ll ever have another night like this?” she asked, her voice teasing but hopeful.

“With you? Every night feels like this,” you replied, glancing at her with a grin. “But we’ll keep raising the bar.”

Her laughter bubbled up, light and carefree, as she leaned her head against your shoulder. “You make everything feel limitless,” she said softly.

Her words filled your chest with warmth, and as the two of you walked down the quiet street, a spark of inspiration flickered in your mind. It was an idea that felt right—something that would take your shared adventures to the next chapter. You tucked it away for now, savoring the night and the woman at your side.

The city’s hum provided a gentle backdrop as Jieun glanced up at you, her eyes brimming with affection. Her hand tightened around yours, grounding you in the moment. The future felt full of promise, a canvas waiting to be painted with more memories like this—and something even greater.

Your smile deepened as you squeezed her hand a little tighter, knowing this was only the beginning.

Epilogue.

Quite a few months had passed since that unforgettable day, and though life had returned to its steady rhythm, the memories of that evening lingered like a vivid dream. They were a testament to how far Jieun had come from the quiet, reserved person she once thought she was. With you by her side, her world had expanded; her confidence had bloomed like a flower reaching toward the sun. Every day felt like an adventure waiting to unfold, brimming with possibility and love.

Tonight, however, was different. Tonight, the rooftop above the city had been transformed into a sanctuary of twinkling lights and soft, soulful music. Strings of fairy lights draped elegantly across the railing, casting a warm, golden glow that danced against the inky sky. The stars shimmered brilliantly, their light reflected in the glossy skyscraper windows. The distant hum of the city below faded into a comforting backdrop, the occasional car horn or burst of laughter adding texture to the quiet intimacy of the night.

Jieun stood by the railing, her silhouette framed by the glistening skyline. The flowing fabric of her dress fluttered gently in the evening breeze, the soft folds catching the light like ripples on a moonlit lake. Her hair moved with the wind, strands catching in the gentle currents and brushing against her glowing cheeks. Her eyes, luminous as they reflected the stars above, held a quiet joy as she gazed out at the cityscape. The faint scent of jasmine and roses, from the bouquet you’d surprised her with earlier, lingered in the air, mingling with the cool crispness of the night.

You couldn’t help but marvel at her. Even after all these years together, she still had a way of taking your breath away. Her radiance, raw and unfiltered, felt more captivating than the sprawling view beyond her—a beauty that was both effortless and deeply magnetic. As you approached, the sound of your footsteps caused her to turn, her smile soft and familiar, the kind that seemed to light up even the darkest corners of your world. She extended her hand toward you, her fingers delicate and welcoming.

“This is beautiful,” she said softly, her voice filled with a wonder that made your heart swell. Her gaze wandered over the fairy lights, the softly swaying lanterns, and the cozy table set with remnants of your earlier dinner. “You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

“Well, it’s a special night,” you replied, intertwining your fingers with hers and pulling her closer. The warmth of her touch spread through you like a gentle fire. “You deserve the best.”

Her eyes flickered with curiosity, a playful crease forming between her brows. “What’s the occasion? You’ve been so mysterious all week.” Her tone was light, but you could see the spark of anticipation in her expression.

You smiled, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. The silky texture slipped between your fingers like a whisper of moonlight. “You’ll see,” you said teasingly, your voice low and affectionate. “But for now, just enjoy this.”

Earlier, the two of you had shared a simple yet intimate dinner. You’d cooked together, the act filled with laughter, teasing, and the occasional brush of your hands. The rooftop now stood as a glowing testament to your love, bathed in warm, golden light, with the soft strains of her favorite songs drifting through the air. It was the perfect setting for what you had planned—the next step in a journey you both held dear.

The music shifted to a slower melody, a romantic tune that had always reminded you of her. Without a word, you took her hand and guided her into a gentle sway. She moved with you easily, her laughter light and bright as she leaned her head against your shoulder. The scent of her favorite perfume, a delicate blend of vanilla and white florals, mingled with the crisp night air, heightening the intimacy of the moment.

“Dancing under the stars,” she murmured, her voice soft and full of wonder. “You really do make everything feel magical.”

“You’re the magic,” you whispered, your lips brushing the top of her head. Her warmth against your chest, the way her body moved in sync with yours, and the way the world seemed to shrink until only the two of you remained—it was all so achingly perfect.

Her arms wrapped around your neck as you continued to sway, her cheek pressed against your chest. You could feel the rhythm of her heart, steady and strong, mirroring your own. The fairy lights twinkled in the corners of your vision, their glow reflecting in her dark, expressive eyes when she tilted her head to look up at you.

The music softened, the gentle melody wrapping around you both, and you knew it was the moment. You stopped swaying, stepping back just enough to hold her gaze, her curious smile tilting as she tried to read your expression.

“Jieun,” you began, your voice soft but steady, “these past few years have been the most incredible of my life. Every single day, you’ve shown me a kind of love and joy I never even knew existed. You make everything better, brighter, and more alive.”

Her brows knit together slightly, her lips parting as if to speak, but she stayed silent, her eyes searching yours.

Taking a deep breath, you dropped to one knee, pulling the small velvet box from your pocket. Her hand flew to her mouth as her eyes widened, shimmering with unshed tears. The fairy lights above reflected in the glistening drops as you opened the box, revealing the ring—a delicate, sparkling design you’d chosen just for her.

“You’ve made me a better person,” you continued, your voice thick with emotion. “And I want to spend the rest of my life making you as happy as you make me. I want to laugh with you, dream with you, and face every challenge together... Jieun, will you marry me?”

For a moment, the world seemed to hang in silence. Her hand remained pressed against her mouth, her eyes wide and shimmering with tears that reflected the glow of the fairy lights around you. Then, as if the dam holding back her emotions broke all at once, she let out a high-pitched squeal, her voice trembling with joy as her laughter spilled out between sobs.

She didn’t extend her hand or wait for you to slip the ring on. Instead, with an impulsive, raw burst of emotion, she dropped to her knees, throwing her arms around your neck. The velvet box in your hand tipped slightly as she buried her face in your shoulder, her whole body trembling against yours. “Yes!” she cried, her voice muffled but bursting with happiness. “Yes! Of course, yes!”

Her embrace was tight and unrelenting, her fingers clutching the back of your shirt as if she was afraid the moment might slip away. You wrapped your arms around her, holding her close, your heart swelling with an indescribable warmth. Her tears soaked into your shirt, her soft sobs punctuated by laughter that bubbled up uncontrollably.

“You’re shaking,” you murmured, your voice full of awe as you gently rubbed her back. “Are you okay?”

“I’m—” she hiccupped, her words faltering as she pulled back just enough to look at you. Her cheeks were streaked with tears, her smile so wide it looked like it might break her face. “I’m just so happy,” she managed, her voice trembling as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. “I can’t even—” She shook her head, laughing softly through her sobs. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

With a tender smile, you reached up to brush her tears away, your thumb trailing along her damp skin. “It’s happening,” you said softly, meeting her gaze with all the love in your heart.

Still trembling, she let out a watery laugh, finally glancing down at the ring in your hand. “The ring!” she said, her voice pitching higher as she held out her hand, her fingers still shaking slightly.

You slipped the ring onto her finger with care, marveling at how perfectly it fit, as though it had been waiting for this moment all along. Her breath caught as she stared at it, her lips parting in disbelief. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “It’s… perfect.”

“Just like you,” you replied, pulling her back into your arms. She clung to you, her laughter mingling with her tears as she kissed your cheek, your neck, anywhere she could reach, her joy spilling over like a tidal wave.

“You have no idea how much this means to me,” she said through her tears, her voice soft but full of emotion. “You’ve given me everything. You’ve shown me what love is supposed to feel like.”

“And you’ve done the same to me” you replied, your voice thick with your own emotion. “You make me whole, Jieun. I’ve been waiting for this moment since the day I met you.”

She pulled back slightly, her hands coming up to frame your face. Her gaze locked onto yours, her eyes still swimming with tears but filled with a deep, unshakeable love. “I love you, so much” she whispered, her voice trembling with the sincerity of her words. “More than anything in this world.”

“I love you too,” you said, your forehead pressing gently against hers. “Forever.”

As the two of you knelt there beneath the twinkling fairy lights, the city below hummed softly, a quiet witness to the moment. The stars above seemed to shine brighter, as though celebrating your love alongside you. Jieun’s laughter, her tears, and the warmth of her touch wrapped around you like a cocoon, making the rest of the world fade into the background.

Finally, as the emotions began to settle, you both stood, your hands still entwined. The soft glow of the fairy lights played across her face, highlighting the dreamy smile that had yet to fade. She glanced down at the ring on her finger again, tilting her hand slightly to catch the light. “This feels like a dream,” she murmured, her voice tinged with wonder and disbelief.

“It’s real,” you said softly, bringing her hand to your lips and pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles. “And it’s just the beginning of our forever.”

Her smile widened, but as you gazed at her, the weight of the moment suddenly hit you harder than you expected. Your chest tightened, a swell of emotions rising so quickly it left you breathless. A lump formed in your throat as your eyes began to well, and despite your efforts to blink them away, a tear slipped down your cheek.

Jieun’s expression softened instantly, her brows knitting together in concern. “Oh, honey,” she whispered, stepping closer as her hand cupped your cheek. Her thumb brushed away the tear with infinite gentleness. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice soft and steady, laced with quiet reassurance.

You let out a shaky laugh, shaking your head as you reached up to cover her hand with yours. “It’s nothing bad,” you managed, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you felt. “It’s just… I’ve never felt this lucky. Like, what did I ever do to deserve you? To deserve this?”

Her lips parted as she took in your words, but she didn’t speak right away. Instead, she pulled you into a tight hug, wrapping her arms around you with a fierce, grounding warmth. Her head rested against your chest, her breath slow and even as if willing you to mirror her calm.

“I just…” You exhaled, your hands resting on her back as you clung to her. “You make everything feel so… right. I never imagined I’d find someone who’d see me the way you do. You’re my everything, Jieun. And knowing you feel the same… it’s overwhelming.”

She pulled back slightly, her eyes glistening as they searched yours. Her hands cupped your face, and without a word, she leaned in and kissed you deeply, pouring all her emotions into the connection. It was warm and soft, filled with unspoken comfort and a promise that she would always be there.

When she pulled back, her smile was gentle, her eyes filled with quiet understanding. She rested her forehead against yours, her hands moving to hold your shoulders as if anchoring you to her. “I love you,” she whispered, the simple words carrying the weight of everything she felt. “More than anything.”

You nodded, a soft laugh escaping you as you brought your hands up to frame her face. “I love you too,” you murmured, your voice steadier now. “I just hope I can be everything you deserve.”

“You already are,” she replied softly, shaking her head as her fingers brushed your hair. “You’ve always been.”

Her reassurance washed over you like a balm, and you pressed another kiss to her forehead, lingering as the two of you stood wrapped in each other’s warmth. For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the silence filled only with the faint hum of the city below and the quiet rustling of the breeze.

When you finally stepped back, her radiant smile returned, lighting up her face. Her hand reached for yours again, intertwining your fingers as she glanced back at the sparkling city lights. “Come on,” she said softly, tugging you toward the edge of the rooftop. “Let’s soak this in. All of it.”

You followed her, wrapping your arm around her waist as you both looked out over the view. The night was cool but welcoming, and for the first time in your life, you felt truly complete. You glanced at her, marveling at how perfectly she fit against your side, her presence grounding you in a way nothing else ever had.

“Jieun,” you said, your voice low but full of conviction. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making you happy. I swear.”

She leaned her head against your shoulder, her hand tightening around yours. “You already do,” she whispered, her voice soft but filled with certainty.

The two of you stood there beneath the stars, the city a sea of glittering lights below. The moment was timeless, the love between you palpable and unshakable. And as her warmth pressed against you, you knew—this wasn’t just a new chapter. It was the story you’d been waiting to write your entire life.

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samgirl98 · 12 hours ago

Text

Biblically Accurate Boyfriend

Written for @silverblueglitter, I hope this is what you were looking for!

Something was going on with Jason. He was happier.

Now, usually, this would be good news, but the family had no idea what had caused such a drastic change in what seemed overnight. From what they could tell, Jason hadn’t had a pit episode in weeks and was voluntarily around the family without getting angry at them. Jason was cooking and bringing side dishes to family dinners. Just that day, he had let Dick hug him and didn’t try to punch his older brother! He doubted it was the few college courses Jason decided to take. No way school would make anyone that happy. Even a nerd like Jason.

It scared them a little. After all, when would the other shoe drop?

After the third week in a row that Jason had shown up for Sunday family dinner, Dick decided he had to ask, screw the consequences.

“So, Jason, what brought about this change?”

Dick tensed, prepared to have his head ripped off (he hoped metaphorically). The opposite happened. Jason laughed. Laughed!

“I have a boyfriend,” he said cheerfully, taking a bite of the pie he brought, “He’s my Angel. He’s so awesome!”

Before Dick could prompt Jason even more with questions, his younger brother continued to talk excitedly about ‘Angel.’

“I met Angel as Red Hood while a cult had kidnapped him. They were trying to summon some death deity right there in the middle of Crime Alley, the fucking idiots. I stopped them, obviously, but let me tell you, instead of being scared or angry, he was joking around and sassing the cult leader. It was so funny! Anyway, after I rescued him, he looked familiar, and I remembered why. He was in one of my Gen Ed courses.”

Bruce filed away the cult leader tidbit, not wanting to stop his son from giving out more information. He hated magic, and a cult had been trying to summon something. He’d have to investigate. If only his second oldest wrote mission reports but refused to do so, leaving Bruce in the dark about what Jason faced in Crime Alley. Bruce made a mental note and tuned back in to what Jason was saying about his boyfriend.

“The next time I saw him, I wanted to make sure he was fine and that the shock hadn’t worn off. You know, he’s not from Gotham, so I imagined he wasn’t used to rogue attacks.”

Everyone nodded but said nothing. They didn’t want to risk Jason shutting up, especially since he was volunteering information without prompting.

“To my surprise, he was chipper and didn’t seem traumatized about what happened. Hell, when I introduced myself to him as Jason, he joked how he was a native Gothamite now because he had been kidnapped.”

“Anyway, one thing led to another, and then we were friends. A few days later, he asked me for a date at a library. My God, that thing was so well-stocked! It even had books that I had never heard or seen. There were first-edition books and books that famous authors hadn’t published to the public. I didn’t even know such a library could exist. It was awesome,” he finished dreamily. There were stars in his eyes.

Dick smiled softly at his brother’s happiness.

“So, does this Angel have a last name,” Tim asked.

Jason glared at Tim, making everyone at the table tense.

“Don’t you dare! Angel doesn’t need a bunch of paranoid vigilante detectives looking into him. Angel isn’t even his real name, and until I feel I can trust you guys not to chase him away, I’m not giving any personal information or bringing him around.”

“That’s fine, Little Wing, just as long as you feel safe and happy,” Dick quickly intervened when he saw Bruce open his mouth to say something. Dick glared at their father and subtly shook his head at him. He knew how Bruce was, and Dick didn’t want Bruce’s paranoia ruining things with Jason.

Bruce frowned but took Dick’s silent advice. Jason glared at them the whole time.

“I’m glad, Jay lad. When you feel comfortable, bring him around. I, we, would love to meet him.”

“Yes, I would love to see who this Angel is and what is wrong with him. Who would like to date Todd purposely?”

Jason turned his glare at his younger brother, but it lacked malice. “Watch it, Demon Brat.”

“Tt, imbecile.”

And so, life continued.

Jason mellowed out more and more while still visiting and talking to the family without any angry barbs. He worked more with them as Red Hood and was less violent with most criminals. Jason would go to the cave after missions to get checked over and eat some of Alfred’s snacks without complaint. He joked around with them and trained. He even let the family enter his territory in Crime Alley in costume.

Still, everyone in the family was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Jason still hadn’t introduced them to Angel, even though it had been three months since they found out, and it was driving Bruce and Tim insane. They only knew that Angel was obsessed with space and studying to be an astrophysicist. Oh, and apparently, he had access to an incredible library.

Dick didn’t know how much longer he could hold them back from investigating every one of Jason’s classmates.

“Jason can take care of himself, Bruce. Let him come to us, and don’t fuck this up for him.”

“But,” he started.

“No ‘buts’. Trust your son.”

“Fine,” he turned around and returned to typing in the Batcomputer. Bruce was brooding. Hmm, Dick would have to talk to Alfred to get help.

One night, while it was a quiet night at patrol, Jason was telling Dick a story about Angel.

“You should’ve seen how angry he was! All this because he argued with the professor that Pluto should be a planet. He was so passionate that he even called the people who had decided to take Pluto out as ‘an insult to the ones who study the sky.’ Speaking of, did you know that the ones who decided were the International Astronomical Union? And honestly, with how Angel describes them, I’m more inclined to believe they are idiots.”

Dick smiled at his brother’s obvious happiness, “Is that so? I’m so happy for you, Hood. Speaking of, when do we get to meet him? I don’t know how long I can keep Tim and Bruce off your back.”

Jason sighed.

“Yeah, I guess it’s time, isn’t it? I already prepared Angel as much as I could about our crazy family. I just wanted to keep him for myself a while longer, I guess.”

Silence reigned for a while.

“I’ll take him on our next Sunday dinner if he says yes.”

Dick smiled, “I’ll let Bruce and the family know so you don’t have to.”

“Thanks.”

Of course, that’s when the other shoe dropped. The night before they were supposed to meet Angel, a supernatural force had invaded Gotham. It was an all-hands-on-deck situation. Batman had even contacted the Justice League and tried communicating with John Constantine. Nightwing had called in a favor to both Zatanna and Raven. Even Red Hood seemed to be trying to get a hold of someone.

“Sorry, Bats,” Constantine’s voice came through the coms. “Whatever you’re fighting is causing a magical force field around Gotham. Zatanna and I are trying to break through it, but it’s slow going. Raven is keeping the lesser demons it’s summoning off our backs while we try to break through. It might be us, at least fifteen.”

“Hn, just get here as soon as you can.”

Batman threw a few batarangs made of nth metal at the giant mass of shadows, and Superman used his laser eyes. Wonder Woman threw her lasso around one of the creature’s arms, and Green Lantern used a net construct. It didn’t even slow it down.

The Martian Manhunter used a psychic attack to finally slow the creature down. Nightwing was finally able to catch his breath. He looked around them and saw the destruction the creature had left in its wake.

Thankfully, Red Robin and Robin were taking care of crowd control, so no civilians were left in harm’s way.

Suddenly, the creature got angry at Batman and swept its arms, sending Batman flying. Thankfully, Superman caught him before he hit the wall, but Nightwing still flinched. That had to have hurt. Out of nowhere, Red Hood came at the creature with flaming swords.

Where had he even gotten them?

Nightwing watched as Jason’s swords cleaved through the creature’s shadowy arm. The limb fell to the floor before disappearing. Just as Nightwing was about to celebrate, the thing grew the arm again.

Fuck.

The fight continued, and they were getting desperate. Jason was the only one who could even slightly damage the creature, and he was tiring. Constantine and Zatanna were still, more or less, ten minutes away. Superman and Wonder Woman were slowing the creature down, but even they were flagging. Martian Manhunter was out for the count after the creature used its psychic attack to bring him down.

They were so fucked.

Suddenly, the air got frigid, and there was a heavy pressure. The hair on Nightwing’s body stood up. Superman looked around while Wonder Woman tensed even more. Even the creature paused.

What showed up next made Dick want to scratch his eyes out. He couldn’t even describe it. All he saw were hundreds of eyes with eight ice-blue wings. The shadow creature yelled out in fear before being evaporated. Fuck, fuck, fuck! How would they defeat the eldritch abomination if it could take out the shadow creature without effort? Hell, Dick could even look straight at it. He was keeping watch with the peripheral of his vision, and he was sure so was everyone else.

“DON’T BE AFRAID! I WAS CALLED TO BE OF HELP.”

Called? For Help? Were Constantine and Zatanna here? Was this creature their doing?

Dick looked around but didn’t see either of them.

“Angel,” a familiar voice yelled out. Jason was climbing over debris while looking right at the creature. Dick felt his heart sink to the pit of his stomach. Around him, he saw his family having the same realization as him. Dick felt like fainting. This was Angel. This biblically accurate creature was Jason’s boyfriend.

“Did—did your heart just skip in fear?” Superman asked Batman, incredulous. He looked at every member of their family and said, “All of your hearts…what is going on here?”

Dick was about to ask Jason the same question when the creature started to shapeshift. It was getting smaller and smaller until, finally, a fae-like creature with blue skin and white hair stood in its place. It had on a cheeky smile.

It flew over to Jason, and then there was a flash of light. In the fae’s creature place was a regular guy with black hair and blue eyes. He was scrawny and had on a red t-shirt with jeans. He was in Jason’s arms.

Jason turned to look at them.

“Guys, this isn’t how I wanted to do it, but this is my boyfriend.”

He turned away from his boyfriend to see that his dad, the Batman, was on the floor. He had fainted. The Justice League was trying to bring Batman to, while Constantine and Zatanna looked at Jason as if he was crazy. Raven was looking at Dick, trying to get directions from him.

“What the hell is that?” Constantine asked, calling magic to his hands. Even Zatanna was on guard. Raven sighed. This isn’t what she was called for.

Batman suddenly came back to and scowled at Jason.

“Hood, you have some explaining to do.”

Jason sighed, seeming put out. Dick started laughing hysterically. His baby brother was put out because they were concerned about the interdimensional eldritch being.

“See, this why I didn’t want you to meet them yet, Angel. They’re annoying for no good reason.

“It’s all cool. Are we still up for dinner tonight?”

“Yep,” the Angel kissed Jason on the cheek and disappeared. Oh, Dick was going to faint, too. How nice, he thought as everything went black.

Dc x Dp prompt #1: Angel

I'd like to preface this by saying I'm incorporating tropes I've seen in other posts.

~~~

Jason has been a lot happier recently. His Pit Rage has been getting less and less frequent, he's cooking and coming over to the manor a lot more, and he even let Dick hug him last week without threatening bodily harm!

The rest of the batfam, while happy for him, are curious about the change. So one night at dinner they ask him what's up with him and why he's so happy recently. Surprisingly, instead of taking it the wrong way and getting mad Jason is eager to share.

Apparently, Jason has a boyfriend now. Yay!

He goes on and on about this civilian he met after stoping a cult who was trying to summon a deity and how he is this nerdy college kid who really likes space and how their civilian identies shared the same Gen Ed course so he made an effort to become friends. Turns out that nerdy space guy had caused the initial improvement in mood and his offer to go on a date to an incredibly diverse and well-stocked library had been the cherry on top.

The only thing is that Jason didn't want them stalking the guy and refered to him around the family exclusively as "Angel". Everyone thinks that's just a cute pet name he gave the guy as a way to both reference and distract the civilian from the cult ritual he was probably rescued from. Little do they know that it's actually because "Angel" was not a victim of the cult ritual but the summonee, that appeared in the form of a biblically accurate angel.

One day some supernatural entity decideds to attack Gotham and everyone is calling whoever they can think of for back-up. Batman calls Constantine, Nightwing calls Zatana, Red Robin and Robin are contacting the Justice League, and even Red Hood seems to call someone.

The situation is getting desperate. The JL is here but at most the can just slow the supernatural being down. Constantine and Zatana are still 20 minutes out and things are looking bad when another Eldritch Being spawns and seems to take down the threat in one move.

Everyone stands stunned as the being turns to them and in a booming voice exclaims "DON'T BE AFRAID. I WAS CALLED TO HELP". They all go through several emotions upon hearing those words. Where did this being come from? Is this a biblically accurate angel? Who called it here to help? Was it Zatana or maybe Constantine? Are they here yet? Upon looking around it is found that Zatana and Constantine are not here yet and the heroes get ready to engage this being carefully when a voice calls out

"Angel!"

Everyone whips their heads around to see Jason climbing over debris towards the Eldritch Being in front of them. The Batfam feels faint with a creeping realization and Superman swears he heard Batman's heart skip a beat for a second. Before anyone can ask Jason what he's doing the being shapeshifts into the much smaller form of a young fae-like creature with pointed ears, fangs, stark white hair, and vibrant green eyes floating in the air. He flys over to Jason before a flash of bright light leaves a young man deep black hair and frosty blue eyes in Jason's arms.

Jason turns to introduce his boyfriend to his family and the League only to find that Batman has fainted, a panicking JL, and a gobsmacked Zatana and Constantine have who've arrived in time to see the transformation. As Zatana and Constantine begin to freak out and prepare defensive magic Batman comes to and levels a scowl at Jason.

"Hood, I think you have some explaining to do."

#dc x dp #dp x dc #Biblically Accurate Boyfriend

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ammifanart · 2 days ago

Note

Do you think in another universe Cacao could've been a good father?

Personally. I believe Dark Cacao is a good father.

Rant incoming >:O.

From the canon context we get hints that Dark Cacao may have been a strict or a distant father, but not an unloving one. The reason Dark Cacao got so angry and terrible to Dark Choco was because he felt betrayed and heartache. Dark Choco attacked his father and almost KILLED him. That shit imo is way worse than anything Dark cacao could have done.

It was a bad choice for him to banish his son and afterward he said some mean ass shit to him (Like I will kill him myself and He was not his son) when he came back but Dark choco came back with the intent to KILL him again and take his sword so I believe he was just reacting to what Dark Choco was doing. I love both of them but out of the two I feel more sorry for Dark Cacao as a parent. He thought he was doing right by Dark Choco. But it just turned him power hungry.

Dark Choco was under the influence of the Strawberry Jam cursed sword but he still yearned for power above all. Thats why he took the sword in the first place. Dark Cacao says he regrets not teaching him that the reason he taught him to fight was to protect things, not just for the sake of might. He knew this, but he assumed Dark Choco would also learn this without being shown it. Anyway. TLDR. I don't think he's a bad father in the story. But if you mean a HEALTHIER parent to Dark Choco. He could have been yeah, way healthier.

Oh and Edit:

I am not saying Dark choco wasn't a victim of some bad parenting, he certainly was. And it's legit canon brother has PTSD. But things got as bad as they did because Dark Choco saught power and got corrupted by the sword.

#crk #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #crk art #cr kingdom #crk fanart #dark cacao cookie #illustration #fanart #art #dark cacao #dark cacao crk #pure vanilla crk #pure vanilla fanart #pure vanilla cookie

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mephisto-reporting · 3 days ago

Text

I Love You: Xavier Edition

Premise:

Trope: Pure fluff

Pairing:Reader x Xavier

Note: Reader and the men are NOT in a relationship. but there is implied mutual attraction. Let me know if you want to be a part of my taglist.

Sylus Edition | Rafayel Edition

The arcade was alive with the buzz of flashing lights, the clinking of tokens, and the distant sounds of laughter. But amid it all, there was one corner that had captured your undivided attention—the claw machine, its glass casing glimmering under the neon lights. Inside, there was a star-shaped plushie that called out to you, its pastel colors so soft and inviting.

You had been staring at it for what felt like hours. It was the only one in the machine. The rest were a jumble of plushies that you’d often seen, all tangled up together, but that star—the delicate blue one—was taunting you, teasing you. You had to get it. You just had to.

Xavier, sitting beside you, was quiet, his usual neutral expression framing his handsome face. He was there, watching you, but in his own way, he was already at ease with the challenge. It was, after all, a game—a challenge that he had no personal stake in, yet still, he seemed to be quietly rooting for you. He’d watched you try and fail, try again, try and fail, without so much as a hint of judgment.

“Don’t worry, you’re doing fine,” Xavier murmured, his voice as steady as always, even as you reached for another token. “It’s just the machine. Sometimes it’s a bit tricky.”

You gave a small, frustrated nod, swiping your token through the machine once more. The claw descended. You watched, holding your breath. It hovered for a split second before dropping, only managing to nudge the star-shaped plushie slightly. It wasn’t enough. You let out a sigh, rubbing your temple as you slumped against the machine. “I almost had it,” you snapped, though the heat in your voice was mostly self-directed. Your cheeks flushed as you avoided his gaze. “It’s so close. I can feel it this time.”

His lips quirked upward in the faintest of smiles. “You’ve been saying that for an hour now.”

The plush mocked you from its cushy prison.

“I could try,” he offered, his tone as measured as ever. Despite his stoic nature, you knew him well enough to recognize the sincerity in his words. But you shook your head stubbornly. This was your mission, and you weren’t ready to hand over the controls.

By the end of the afternoon, with your token supply thoroughly drained, you stood in defeat.

“I can’t do it…” you muttered to yourself, more to the plushie than to anyone else.

Xavier shifted, his gaze softening for a brief moment as he rested his hand on your shoulder. “We’ll come back and try again, alright? Don’t beat yourself up over it. It’s just a game.”

You nodded, trying to take in his words, though a deep frustration simmered within you. The thought of leaving the arcade without that star was unbearable. You'd spent an entire afternoon here, clawing away at your pride—and at the machine—only to leave empty-handed. You sighed and nodded again, more out of exhaustion than agreement. “Yeah. Next time,” you mumbled.

He chuckled softly, the sound so rare it made your chest ache. “Next time.”

Over the next few days, "next time" became a mantra you repeated like a prayer. Each visit to the arcade brought you to the claw machine, where that elusive star plush continued to taunt you from behind its glass barrier. You tried different strategies, adjusted the angle, even debated superstitiously switching hands on the joystick, but nothing worked. Frustration coiled tight in your chest, each failed attempt chiseling away at your patience.

You tried and failed again and again, your movements growing more tense with each attempt. Xavier was always there beside you, offering his quiet encouragement, always calm, always kind. His presence was comforting, but it didn’t stop the frustration from boiling over within you.

This was getting ridiculous.

Today, though, was different. You had spent the entire day running around, trying to get everything done—work, errands, catching up with backlogs. Nothing seemed to go right. Everything you attempted today was just one disaster after the other. It was just one of those days where everything seemed to pile on top of you. You were tired. Tired of the relentless failures, tired of trying, tired of feeling like you were never going to win.

As you stood in front of the claw machine once more, your patience was at an all-time low. You stared at the star plushie and, without thinking, gave the machine a hard kick. It rattled with the impact, the claw shaking wildly for a moment, as if to mock you.

“Okay. Enough,” Xavier said, stepping between you and the machine. His hands rested gently on your shoulders, grounding you. His tone was calm, but there was a firmness to it that made you stop. “You’ll break the machine. Or your foot. Neither’s worth it.”

You turned away from the machine, a small tremor of frustration escaping through your clenched fists. “I just need a breath of fresh air,” you said, your voice low. You turned on your heel, waving a hand dismissively. “I’ll be right back.”

You made your way outside, seeking refuge from the suffocating air inside. The cool night air hit your face, a momentary relief to the overload of emotions. The muffled din of the arcade buzzed faintly through the door behind you. You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply, letting the crisp air fill your lungs, the tension slowly ebbing away. You closed your eyes, taking in a deep breath. Everything had been overwhelming, and the plushie... Well, it was just a plushie, wasn’t it? You should’ve just let it go. But you couldn’t.

The sound of footsteps behind you drew your attention, and you turned your head slightly. Before you could fully look, something soft brushed your cheek.

“Here,” Xavier said simply.

Your eyes widened as you focused on what he was holding out to you—the star-shaped plushie. The star-shaped plushie.

He’d done it. Somehow, he’d actually gotten it.

“You—you got it!” you gasped, spinning around to face him fully. Your fingers reached out instinctively, grasping the plush and clutching it to your chest as if it might disappear. The soft fabric squished in your hands, a tangible proof of victory.

“It wasn’t that hard. Just took some... patience.”

“Xavier...” You gasped, your heart pounding as you reached out for it, your fingers brushing against the soft fabric of the star-shaped plushie. You held it in your hands like it was a treasure.

His usual neutral expression was still there, but his eyes—those soft, blue eyes—seemed to hold something else. Something that made your heart skip.

A wave of pure joy surged through you, too overwhelming to contain. Before you could think, you threw your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. “I love you,” you blurted out, the words tumbling free without permission.

The air seemed to still for a moment. You felt Xavier stiffen slightly in your embrace. Then, his hands came up, steady and warm as they rested on your back.

“You… love me?” he echoed, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. There was something uncharacteristically vulnerable in the way he said it, as though he were handling the words with care, afraid they might break.

Realization struck like lightning, and you froze, your face heating to a volcanic degree. You pulled back slightly, eyes wide, mouth already forming excuses, denials, anything to walk it back.

But before you could backtrack, Xavier moved toward you. His fingers gently cupped your face, his touch warm and tender, sending a shiver down your spine. His blue eyes—so steady, so calm—held yours with an intensity you hadn’t expected. For once, his usual neutral expression melted away, replaced by something warmer—something that made your heart race.

“I love you too,” he whispered.

The world seemed to pause in that moment. All the noise from the arcade, the frustrations, the disappointments—all of it fell away. There was only the warmth of his hand on your face, the softness in his eyes, and the quiet truth of his words.

You stood there, heart racing, breathless, unable to look away from him. The star plushie was still clutched tightly in your hand, but it felt insignificant compared to the moment unfolding before you. Xavier... Xavier loved you too.

His gaze softened further, and his voice, still calm, but now filled with something deeper, spoke again. “I never thought you’d say it first.”

You blinked, surprised by the admission. “You’ve been waiting for me?”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “I suppose I have.”

You couldn't help but smile back, the corners of your eyes crinkling with joy

For a moment, the whole world seemed to fall into place. The plushie, the arcade, the frustrations—it all faded into the background as Xavier’s gentle gaze remained fixed on you. The star in your hand felt like the most precious thing you’d ever held. But, in truth, it was Xavier himself, standing before you, that made everything feel like it was exactly where it was meant to be.

Xavier’s forehead rested gently against yours, his warm breath mingling with your own as the closeness made your pulse thunder in your ears. His arms slid more securely around you, drawing you nearer as though anchoring you both in this shared moment.

“Well,” he murmured, his voice a low hum that sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, “I think I’ve had my fill of exercise today. That claw machine... definitely gave me a workout.”

A soft laugh bubbled from your lips, the tension of the day melting away entirely. “Exercise? You barely moved!” you teased, though your words carried no heat.

“Oh, it’s strenuous,” Xavier replied with mock seriousness, his lips twitching into the faintest smile. “Careful precision. Endless patience. Mental gymnastics to calculate the claw’s momentum. It’s a wonder I’m still standing.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him playfully.

“But I do know one thing.” His arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer until there was barely an inch between you. “I’m ready to head back. To nap. With my favorite plushie.”

You blinked, looking down at the star plushie still clutched tightly in your hand. “Wait, your favorite plushie?” you teased, a smirk creeping onto your face. “Pretty sure I’ve earned this one after all the torment.”

His blue eyes glimmered with amusement as he leaned back just enough to study your expression. “Oh, I wasn’t talking about the star,” he said, his voice low, the corners of his lips quirking up in that maddeningly subtle way he had. “I meant you.”

Your face heated instantly, your grip on the plushie tightening as if it might save you from the sudden onslaught of butterflies in your stomach. “Xavier…” you managed to say, though it came out as little more than a breathless whisper.

“What?” he asked innocently, though the mischief in his gaze betrayed him. His arms remained snug around you, his embrace firm yet comforting. “You’re warm, you’re soft, and you fit perfectly in my arms. What else would I want for a nap?”

You let out a small sigh of defeat, though a smile played on your lips as you nodded against him. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

He rested his chin lightly atop your head, holding you as if the rest of the world could wait. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I’m not letting go anytime soon.”

You didn’t know who moved first, but the next thing you knew, you were leaning into him again, your forehead resting against his. The star plushie was still clutched tightly in your hand, but it no longer felt like the most important prize you’d won that day.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

Sylus Edition | Rafayel Edition

Taglist: @cordidy

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misaerabl · 1 day ago

Text

Rock My World

MINORS AND MEN DNI / Word Count: 3.5k

SUMMARY: After a grueling concert, Vi, a tired but popular rock guitarist, and vocalist, retreats to her hotel room seeking solitude. Her plans are interrupted by a knock at the door, where she finds you—a mysterious stranger draped in a long fur coat and boots. Initially assuming you're a groupie, Vi learns you were sent by her drummer to help her "de-stress."

WARNINGS: oral sex (vi receiving), riding a strap, prostitution (?), short-lived bottom Vi, THIS IS ACTUALLY NASTY

A/N: sorry guys, I got a bit lazy with the cover pics lol I might replace them soon (I don’t have time to edit rn) Also, my first Vi fic! (This might be the filthiest thing I’ve made)

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆

The roar of the crowd still buzzed in Vi's ears as she staggered into her hotel room, the adrenaline that had carried her through the encore now fading into bone-deep exhaustion. The stadium had been electric tonight—screaming fans, pounding drums, the lights casting their shadowed silhouettes across the stage like gods. It was the kind of night that should’ve left her floating, but all she wanted now was to crash.

Her guitar case thudded onto the couch as she kicked the door shut with the heel of her boot. She tugged her jacket off and let it fall to the floor, too tired to care. Grabbing a bottle of water from the minibar, she unscrewed the cap and downed half of it in one go before collapsing onto the edge of the bed.

The bedspread was crisp and uninviting, another impersonal feature of the chain hotels they’d been hopping between during the tour. She let herself sink into the mattress for a moment, leaning back on her palms as she stared at the ceiling, counting the hairline cracks in the plaster.

Then came the knock.

Three sharp raps, cutting through the quiet like a drumbeat. Her brows furrowed as she sat upright. She wasn’t expecting anyone, and the rest of the band had their own rooms. Maybe it was management with some last-minute schedule update—or worse, a fan who’d somehow managed to charm their way past security.

Dragging herself to her feet, Vi padded to the door, her steps heavy with reluctance. She cracked it open, intending to tell whoever it was to come back tomorrow.

Instead, she found you.

You stood there in a long fur coat, the kind that swished when you moved, and boots that clicked against the polished hallway floor. Your hair fell around your shoulders, catching the low hotel lighting, and you were wearing a smile that hovered somewhere between coy and self-assured.

For a moment, Vi just blinked, her tired brain struggling to process who—or what—she was looking at. You didn’t look like staff, and you definitely didn’t look like someone who belonged in a place like this.

“Uh…” she started, her voice hoarse from the set. “Can I help you?”

Your smile deepened, a flicker of amusement in your eyes. “Depends,” you said smoothly. “Can I come in?”

Vi’s brow arched, and she leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms. This is new. She scanned you from head to toe, noting the confident tilt of your chin, the way you didn’t flinch under her scrutiny. Still, she’d seen enough to jump to the obvious conclusion. The coat, the boots, the audacity—it all screamed groupie.

“Look,” she began, voice low and tired. “I don’t know how you found my room, but I’m really not in the mood for—”

“Relax, Rockstar,” you interrupted, holding up a hand. “I’m not some random fan.”

That caught her off guard. Her arms dropped to her sides, and her confusion only deepened as you gestured casually over your shoulder.

“Your drummer sent me,” you explained, your voice calm, like this was the most normal thing in the world.

Vi blinked, her brain short-circuiting for a second. “Wait, what?”

You stepped forward before she could stop you, brushing past her into the room. She turned to follow you, watching as you tossed your coat onto the back of the chair like you owned the place.

“Apparently,” you said, turning back to her with a sly grin, “he thinks you need to unwind.”

Vi folded her arms again, her eyes narrowing as she leaned against the door she’d just closed. “So, what are you supposed to be? My babysitter?”

You tilted your head, letting the question hang for a moment before you shrugged. “Not exactly. He didn’t give me a lot of instructions.”

Vi’s lips twitched into a smirk, though her exhaustion dulled its usual sharpness. “So, what are you here for?”

“That’s up to you,” you said, your grin widening as you met her gaze. “I’m just here to help.”

Vi hesitated, one hand still on the door, the other brushing through her hair as she considered the absurdity of the situation. Her instinct was to send you packing, but something in the way you stood there, so calm and unbothered, piqued her curiosity.

“Fine,” she said, stepping aside and motioning for you to come in. “But if you try anything weird, I’m calling security.”

You walked in without hesitation, your boots clicking softly against the floor. She closed the door, watching you carefully as you scanned the room, your eyes lingering on the scattered clothes, the guitar case, and the empty water bottle on the nightstand.

“This your idea of post-show luxury?” you teased, glancing back at her.

She rolled her eyes, leaning against the doorframe. “What did you expect? Champagne and roses?”

“Maybe,” you replied with a smirk, making your way over to the bed. You sat down at the edge, the mattress sinking slightly under your weight. Despite the heat of the room, you kept your coat tightly wrapped around you, the fur brushing against your cheeks as you adjusted it.

Vi’s gaze narrowed. “You cold or something?”

“Not exactly,” you replied, your voice light, almost playful. You shifted slightly, the coat parting just enough to give her a hint of your bare collarbone before you tugged it closed again.

Her brows furrowed as suspicion crept in. “You’re acting weird,” she said, moving closer. “What’s with the coat? What are you—”

She stopped mid-sentence, her eyes narrowing as realization dawned. “You’re not wearing anything under that, are you?”

Your grin widened, and you tilted your head. “What if I’m not?”

For a moment, she just stared at you, caught between disbelief and amusement. Then she laughed, a low, raspy sound that filled the room. “Unbelievable,” she muttered, rubbing a hand over her face.

“Relax,” you said, leaning back slightly, your coat slipping just a little to reveal the curve of your shoulder. “I’m not here to seduce you… unless you want me to.”

Vi snorted, shaking her head as she sat down on the armchair across from you. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Maybe,” you replied, your tone casual. “But your drummer seemed to think I could help you de-stress. I figured I’d give it a shot.”

She leaned back, arms crossed, her lips quirking into a smirk. “And this is your idea of helping?”

You shrugged, the movement making your coat slip again, the edge of it brushing against your thighs. “You tell me, Rockstar.”

Vi leaned back in the armchair, her head tilted against the cushion as she watched you with a tired smirk. “Look, I don’t know what my drummer told you, but I’m too exhausted for… whatever this is supposed to be.”

You leaned forward slightly, your coat shifting again, though you still kept it clutched around you, the edge brushing against your thighs. “That’s okay,” you said, your voice low and teasing. “You don’t have to do anything. I can handle all the work if you like.”

Her eyebrows shot up at your boldness, a short laugh escaping her. “Wow, you really don’t quit, do you?”

You shrugged, letting a sly smile play on your lips. “I’m just saying… It looks like you could use a little help relaxing. Why not let me take care of it?”

Vi rubbed a hand over her face, half-laughing, half-exasperated. “You’ve got some nerve, I’ll give you that.” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she studied you, her exhaustion briefly forgotten. “What’s your deal, anyway? You always this bold, or am I just special?”

You grinned, leaning back on the bed with an air of casual confidence. “Let’s just say I have a knack for reading people. And right now, I think you need someone who’s not afraid to take the lead.”

Vi’s lips curved into a smirk, her eyes gleaming with both amusement and curiosity. “And what makes you think I’d even let you?”

You tilted your head, your grin never faltering. “Because you haven’t kicked me out yet.”

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆

She doesn’t know how exactly you got in this position. Your face was buried between her legs, her head tossing back as you grip her legs tighter and pull her closer.

Vi wasn’t used to being on the receiving end—she was always the one in control, the one calling the shots. But tonight, something had shifted. The exhaustion from the show, the tension in her muscles, and your bold confidence all combined to strip away her usual defenses.

What you were doing to her wasn’t just unexpected; it was better than anything she’d ever done herself. The way your hands moved, the way you seemed to know exactly what she needed, it left her disoriented, and vulnerable in a way that felt unfamiliar.

It should’ve made her uneasy, the thought of giving up that control, of letting someone else take the lead. But with every deliberate touch, every calculated move, you silenced her doubts, replacing them with waves of sensation that she couldn’t resist.

It felt strange—wrong, even—to enjoy it this much, to let go of her need to be the one in charge. And yet, nothing could override the sheer pleasure coursing through her. For once, she didn’t mind surrendering; in fact, she couldn’t imagine it any other way.

Vi suddenly sat up, her hands gripping your shoulders as she pushed you away. The abruptness of her movement left you momentarily stunned. You knelt there, catching your breath, and when you looked up at her, your lips were glistening, your eyes searching hers for a clue.

“Did I… do something wrong?” you asked softly, your voice uncertain as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, the vulnerability in your tone cutting through the tension in the air.

Vi’s chest rose and fell as she steadied her breathing, her gaze flicking down to you briefly before she shook her head. “No,” she said, her voice low and a little rough. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Without another word, she slid off the bed and strode toward her suitcase near the dresser. You stayed where you were, still on your knees, watching her with a mix of curiosity and unease. The rustle of the zipper broke the silence as she opened her bag, rummaging through its contents with purposeful movements.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice hesitant, unsure if you should move or stay where she left you.

She didn’t respond immediately, her back to you as she dug through the suitcase. When she finally straightened, something big and made out of rubber was in her hands. The faintest smirk played on her lips as she turned back to face you, her eyes holding a flicker of mischief that made your stomach twist with anticipation.

Vi turned back to the bed, the faint clink of the buckle in her hands drawing your attention. She slid it on with practiced ease, her movements fluid and unhurried. Once she was done, she laid back against the pillows, her head tilted slightly as she looked at you with a smirk that sent a jolt through your chest.

“Come here,” she murmured, her voice low and commanding as she extended a hand toward you.

You hesitated for only a moment before climbing onto the bed, your coat slipping open slightly as you moved. As soon as you were close enough, she pulled you down, her lips capturing yours in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, yet left no room for misinterpretation.

When she pulled back, her hands slid down your arms, guiding you into position with firm, unyielding pressure. She placed you exactly where she wanted, her touch both gentle and assured, leaving no doubt who was in control now. The anticipation in the air was almost tangible as she leaned back, her gaze locking onto yours with a heat that made your breath hitch.

Vi’s hands settled firmly on your waist, her fingers pressing into your skin as she began to guide your movements, up and down her strap. Her smirk widened, a glint of mischief lighting up her eyes as she stared into yours, her confidence practically radiating off her.

“Now this,” she murmured, her voice a low, sultry drawl, “is more my speed.”

Her grip tightened ever so slightly as she took control, her movements deliberate and unrelenting. The shift in her demeanor was electric; gone was the hesitation, replaced by the Vi you’d always imagined—the one who thrived on being in charge, who owned every moment with unapologetic dominance.

She watched your every reaction, her smirk deepening whenever she saw the telltale signs of your unraveling. “That’s better, isn’t it?” she teased, her tone both playful and commanding.

And as she continued, guiding you with an intoxicating mix of precision and care, it became clear: this was where Vi felt most at home—leading, controlling, and leaving you utterly captivated in her wake.

At this point, Vi’s hair was messed up and sticking to her forehead, her tank top almost completely drenched in sweat. Her eyes were half-lidded and darkened as she watched. All the while, her mouth was slightly agape as she let out small grunts of pleasure every so often.

She leaned up, resting her back on the bed frame instead. The sudden change made you gasp, as she penetrated you deeper, hitting that oh-so-lovely spot. You grab on her shoulder for balance, the other hand on the bed as you bounce up and down on her like the good little doll you are.

Vi’s free hand gripped on the bedsheets, gripping on the fabric. She looked up at you, smirking, her breath coming out in gasps. “Fu-F-Fuck… s’good for me… Taking me so well… I-... mmmfffff…”

The sound of moaning was the only thing that could be heard in the once-silent room.

She let go of your hip, letting you move on your own, now both her hands on the mattress and supporting her weight. You move even harder, deeper. This time you both let out a gutteral moan, her head falling against the bed frame.

Vi let out another moan and shifted up on the bed, now seating up instead of leaning on the bed frame. She wrapped her arms around your waist and held you against her chest, while at the same time, started to lean forwards. She brought you down with her hand and gently laid you on your back. “Mmmm… f-fuck… I-... nnng… I can’t get enough… of… y-you…”

She leaned down on the bed, holding herself above you, shifting again to get a better angle, her movements now more desparate and less gentle than before. She planted her hands on either side of your head to support herself and leaned down to start leaving trails of kisses on your neck and shoulders.

“S-Shit… You feel… s-so good… I-... mmmnfff… I don’t want to stop… You’re so good for me… So perfect…”

You continued to gasp and moan as she nipped and sucked your sensitive skin. Every once in a while, you would let out a high-pitched whine of pleasure, your body arching to press against Vi as much as possible. Your hands tangled themselves up in her hair, your nails scraping on her scalp. “Ahh… Vi… yes… nnn… don’t stop… don’t fucking stop… ah…”

Vi groaned as she felt your nails scratch her scalp and shivered in pleasure. She bit and sucked at a specific part in your neck hard enough to leave an already prominent bruise behind. Once she was satisfied, she pulled away and took in the mark she left behind. It’s a good thig you had a coat to cover it up with later.

She continued her assault on you skin. With each new one, she would take a moment to admire the mark before continuing to leave another. Her grip on your hips got progressively tighter with each mark left behind. “You’re… mine…”

Both of you knew the truth, even if it lingered unspoken in the air between you. You weren’t hers—not in the way she might want to believe. This was a transaction, a carefully arranged arrangement where your role was clear.

You were here to let her let go, to help her unwind, and—ultimately—to serve a purpose, not to be hers. The money exchanged, the boundaries set. There was no mistaking the professional line drawn between the two of you.

And yet, in the heat of the moment, there was a fleeting whisper of something more, something that made you both question the labels you’d placed on this. But even as the room pulsed with tension, the reality of what this was hung like a veil, unyielding and undeniable.

As the tension finally snapped, both of you collapsed against the bed, your bodies still trembling from the intensity. Vi, breathless and sweaty, eased herself off you, her movements slow and deliberate as she pulled away. For a moment, neither of you spoke—just the sound of labored breaths and the lingering warmth between you.

Vi settled herself on top of you, her weight pressing gently against you as she let out a satisfied sigh. Without warning, she leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, her lips lingering there for a brief, almost tender moment. The gesture was unexpected, but it somehow felt more intimate than anything that had come before.

Her gaze met yours, a quiet understanding passing between you both. You weren’t hers. You knew that. But in this moment, it didn’t matter.

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆

The soft glow of morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm hue across the room. Vi slowly stirred awake, her muscles still sore from the night before, the memory of it lingering in the back of her mind. The bed was empty beside her, the absence of your presence felt immediately. For a moment, she just lay there, the silence of the room almost deafening.

She glanced over at the clock, realizing she was running late. She had a meeting with her bandmates downstairs, and the last thing she needed was to be late after everything that had happened.

With a sigh, she pushed herself up from the bed, the sheets rustling around her. She grabbed her clothes from the corner, the remnants of last night's whirlwind still hanging in the air. As she dressed, pulling on a leather jacket over a simple band tee and dark jeans, her thoughts wandered back to you. She didn’t regret what happened, but the whole thing felt strange now that the adrenaline had faded.

Vi quickly finished getting ready, grabbing her bag and heading out the door. She paused for a moment in the hallway, then shook her head. No time to dwell, she thought. She had her bandmates to meet, and business to attend to. The rest, whatever it was, could wait for later.

Vi walked into the lobby, her bandmates gathered around a table, already talking. As soon as their drummer spotted her, his usual mischievous grin spread across his face.

“Well, well, look who’s here,” he teased, clearly trying to hold back a smirk. “So, did you enjoy your night, Vi?” His eyes sparkled with amusement. "Did she do the trick? You know, the one I sent your way?"

Vi raised an eyebrow, her gaze narrowing as she met his playful, probing eyes. "What are you talking about?" she asked, her voice calm, though the tension in her posture suggested otherwise.

He leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying the moment. “Come on, don’t act like you don’t know. I figured you’d like her—Babette’s finest, right?” He lowered his voice slightly, eyes glinting. “She’s known for strictly... serving women, and I thought, well, you’d definitely vibe with her. Guess I was right.”

Vi froze, her heart skipping a beat as his words sank in. She hadn't expected the drummer to be the one who’d arranged it, or that he’d been so open about it. Her curiosity piqued, she tried to keep her expression neutral, but her mind raced.

“What do you mean by ‘Babette’s finest’? And where exactly can I find her?” Vi’s voice was calm, but her eyes betrayed her—there was an unmistakable gleam, a hunger for more.

He smirked, clearly enjoying how much this was affecting her. “I knew you’d want to know,” he said with a chuckle. “You can find her at Babette’s, of course. But she only works for women. I guess that’s what makes her special, huh?” He gave her a wink. “And don’t worry, I’m sure she’d be happy to see you again.”

Vi’s eyes glistened as the realization hit. The curiosity and something deeper—something she hadn’t expected to feel—washed over her. She nodded slowly, her thoughts already moving towards the next step.

“Thanks for the info,” she said, her voice steady, but there was a faint excitement hidden just beneath the surface. As her bandmates continued talking, Vi's focus shifted inward. She now had a clear direction—one that would lead her right back to you.

#arcane #vi #vi arcane #arcane smut #vi x reader #smut #fanfiction #vi smut #arcane league of legends #arcane s2 #league of legends #lol #vi arcane x reader #vi arcane smut #vi x you #vi x y/n #vi x fem reader #lesbian

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rafeyscurtainbangs · 1 day ago

Text

“𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐦” - 𝐀 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭

𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚝!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚂𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚛!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛’𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚎

warnings: Rafe and reader are messy, quick to forgive, filthy, f/f/m, f/f, f/m, bisexual reader, oral male receiving, tit job, spit kink, cum play, snowballing, name calling, pet names, unprotected p in v, breakup -> makeup, first time ‘I love you’s’, reader purposefully makes Rafe jealous, pathetic!rafe, mating press, reader slaps rafe

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 𝐭𝐨 “𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞” 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 “𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐰”.

✨𝐈𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭, 𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 “𝐀𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬.” 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫. 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐢 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐛. 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞. 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐮𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞…✨

lightly edited

a/n: sorry, babes. I've been so sick between stomach surgery and strep this took forever but I wanted to get it out before kinkmas. I hope it’s okay. Low key kinda bad but good smut imo 💕 Sorry in advance for spelling errors and plot holes 😭

Reader's POV:

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ ⋆ ࣪. ˖ ࣪⭑ ˖ ࣪ ٬ ุ๋ ⸱ ⊹ ｡✧ ﾟ˖ flashback

You had completed your midterms, confident enough to feel like you aced it after studying. You went out with friends, Rafe, pulling his group along as well. It was a huge crowd: laughing, dancing, drinking, finally relaxing after a long week of studying, but cutting loose only made him tense up more, the outfit you wore fading his smile. The things that he couldn’t get enough of at the start just seemed to be a point of concern now.

Rafe’s big arm wrapped around your waist, holding you tight like he was worried you’d slip away. He finally eased up after teasing from your friends, letting you go on the dancefloor reluctantly. Rafe’s eyes only left you to scan the crowd, making sure no one was eyeing you up. Rafe, resting bitch face, sat a little deeper, his strong arms crossed over his tight chest.

Of course, JJ took notice. Seizing the opportunity to fuck with Rafe in the simplest way possible. Merely saying, “Hey, pretty girl,” as he shuffled past the two of you, walking toward the bar to order another round, his baby blue eyes roaming your body before looking at his frat brother, greeting him smugly. The look you gave JJ could have burned a hole through that pretty boy's face; your little exchange made the corners of his lips curl up into a smirk.

Rafe was done. The night was far from over. But, all his worries about coming out to this bar, with these people, with you dressed like this, were coming true. When you got in the cab, the accusations started flying.

“Dressin’ like that in front of these boys? Are you fuckin’ kidding me right now? What the hell did you think was going to happen? Huh? Why the hell did he come over in the first place if you weren’t smilin’ at him or some shit? Did you notice the way he was lookin’ at you? Do you even fuckin’ care? No. Because you love it. Fuckin’ whore-” Your hand connected with his cheek fast and hard, sending the whole car silent.

“I don’t know who the fuck you think your talkin’ to, Rafe, but it ain’t me,” you hissed as you look up at the man before you, red-cheeked and glossy-eyed. “I wore this for you. I only care about you. If I didn’t care about you, do you think I’d be putting up with all this shit? Huh?”

“M’sorry, I called you that. Aight? But, you were doin’ just fine when you were drinkin’ with me. We were havin’ a good time-”

“Were we?” You lift your voice as he lies through his teeth. “You hated every second of that, Rafe.”

“Bullshit.”

“You held onto me like you were afraid I was gonna run away-”

”I just wanted to be with you. Okay? Your friends were pullin’ you away. Sorry for wanting to have a night out with my girlfriend-”

“You’re smothering me, Rafe.”

“Why is that a fuckin’ issue? You’re mad at me because I’m giving you attention. You’re mad because I care? You’re mad because I want you for myself. Do you hear how ridiculous you sound?”

”Do you want me to feel bad for you, Rafe? Because I don’t. You knew who I was when you started dating me. I’m not some girl that’ll stand by you and look pretty. I won’t apologize for dressing like a woman and wanting to have some fun.”

“So you don’t have any fun with me. Is that what I’m hearing? Am I not giving you enough attention? You gotta dress like this and get it from someone else?”

“What?”

”’Cause if that’s what you were tryin’ to do, Princess. You succeed. M’sure JJ’s gonna be strokin’ his shit thinkin’ about you.”

“JJ?” You ask tiredly. “You think I dressed like this for Maybank? Are you kidding me?”

”M’Not.”

”5th and Main,” you call out to the driver. “Can you stop at 5th and Main first? Please?”

”Nah. Nah. Fuck that-”

”Fuck that? Fuck you,” you snap as your frustration bubbles over. “If you think I’m going back to the frat with you, you’re crazy.”

“I AM fuckin’ crazy. Jesus fuck. She’s not goin’ home,” Rafe shouts at you, then the driver.

“Pull over the car,” you level your voice.

“Don’t,” Rafe challenges him through the rearview mirror. The driver pulls over regardless, making Rafe let out a growl of frustration, pushing open the door before the vehicle can even roll to a complete stop.

You climb out of the car, two blocks away from your place, wrapping your arms tightly around your waist as you bound toward your place. Tears gather in your eyes, hazing your vision. You hear a step of big feet walking behind you, making your anger swell inside.

“Go away, Rafe.”

“You’re not walkin’ home alone. If you’re going to be a fuckin’ brat and not talk to me, I don’t give a fuck. If you think lettin’ you walk alone downtown on a Friday night, you’re fucking delusional.”

“Asshole,” you grumble.

“Ungratful fucking bitch. Jesus Christ,” he mumbles.

“Oh yeah, Rafe?” You call back as you turn on your heels, walking toward him fast, making his eyes double as he catches the outrage in your eyes. “Call me a fuckin’ bitch one more time and see what happens.” You step in, shoving him back, making him scoff and suck his teeth.

“‘See what happens?’” He laughs weakly. “‘See what happens, princess?’ You fuckin’ serious right now?” He asks as he looks down at you in irritation.

“Can only say that shit when I have my back turned, fuckin’ pussy.”

“You’re drunk,” he scoffs.

“I should be, Rafe! I should be drunk right now. I should be drinkin’ and dancin’ with you and my friends. I should be dragging you off the dancefloor because I can’t take my hands off you. I shouldn’t be fightin’ with you right now. I deserve to be happy. I deserve to have someone who makes me feel secure. Your insecurity is bringin’ the both of us down.”

“I’m not insecure-”

”The fuck you aren’t,” you cut him off as you turn and walk away. “I need space.”

“Space? This isn’t high school. The fuck do you need space for? You either want me or you don’t.”

“I want you, Rafe. I don’t want whoever the fuck this is,” you sneer.

“You walk away from me, and we’re fuckin’ done. All right?”

“Done? So, a break isn’t an option. You can even let me have space; it's just one or the other.”

“If you liked me, sweetheart, that wouldn’t be a fuckin’ worry of yours. Hey, where the hell are you goin’?” He barks as you press toward your place. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Obviously.” You scoff before looking back, watching his beautiful blue eyes glisten under the streetlight— the man biting his cheek and flaring his nostrils to hold back his tears between controlled breaths.

“You’re such a bitch. You know that?” He asks, barely able to press the words past his quivering lips.

“Yeah, Rafe? A bitch you couldn’t handle. I’ve been me since the start… The only person that changed is you.”

Rafe lowers his head, nodding, accepting defeat for the moment, or maybe he’s planning his next dig. Either way, you were done. You turn around, walking toward your place, climbing the stairs before back at him. His eyes are still on you, making sure you’re safe before rubbing the tears of frustration out of his eyes and pulling out his phone.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ ⋆ ࣪. ˖ ࣪⭑ ˖ ࣪ ٬ ุ๋ ⸱ ⊹ ｡✧ ﾟ˖ the blue flame…

“What should the caption be?” You ask with a devilish smile as you lay back on the couch, fingers hovering over your phone as Cali taps her chin, thinking of something that would piss Rafe off the most.

“Something simple. I don’t think it’s going to take a lot.” You laugh at her understatement of the century. Drumming your fingers, you play around with a few captions yourself as Cali workshops her own while dusting on some setting powder in the mirror. “Miss me?”

“Hmm… I mean, I want him to think I’m unbothered.”

“You are unbothered.”

“For sure,” you sigh.

”Umm… What about ‘she’s back and hotter than ever?’ I can send it to my account. You’ll look completely unbothered, which you are-“

“Completely,” you laugh as you let her do your dirty work.

“Sent,” she looks up at you with a smile.

“Ahh!” You squeal as you see the notification come in, and before you can even open the post to double-tap, he’s there…

Picture liked by: Rafe Cameron

You tilt into the mirror, the bright lights of the vanity casting a warm glow on your face as you slick on some shimmery gloss. You take out your perfume, spritzing on your signature scent. Turning to the side you check your reflection, seeing a very different woman than before, one you hadn’t seen in a while. Your curves are dressed in pink lace lingerie purchased by Rafe, a matching bubble gum-colored wig on your head, styled just right.

Cali breezes past; her energy, infectious. Deja vu sets in as she presses a quick kiss on your cheek. “Old times, baby,” she sings as her eyes sparkle with excitement.

“Old times,” you coo as you give her a little turn in your Pleaser heels.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she hums. “You’re about to ruin that man’s life.” She gestures toward the stage, widening your eyes as you put two and two together.

“He’s here?” You ask, biting back an anxious smile.

“First one in the house, baby doll.” She struts toward you, pulling you in for a hug, grounding you in the moment as your thoughts race away. This isn’t just about dancing and games; it’s about reclaiming my space, my confidence, who I was before I met him too… “Let him know who he lost. Huh?” She looks back at you lovingly as she brushes your hair into place.

You walk toward the stage, heart thudding with excitement, wig bouncing with every leggy stride. Shit. You look through the slight gap in the curtain, seeing Rafe from afar. His eyes are locked on his phone as a girl dances before him, paying her no attention. He looks up, making your stomach fall as his eyes set on yours; he blinks a few times to ensure he’s seeing this just right as the music shifts.

Rafe swallows thickly, adjusting in his seat uneasily, looking around at his frat brothers to clock where their attention is paid. You step out onto the stage, feeling yourself in your element again. Avoiding his eye contact, you glance around the dim room, pulling attention from every corner as you approach the beat. Cheers and whistles fill the space—a familiar chorus of sounds that have you smiling through the pressure.

You can feel the burn of Rafe’s gaze, heavy and intense, but you choose to ignore it as you step toward the end of the stage; toward the pole—toward Rafe and his brothers.

Shifting to your knees, you crawl to his frat brother, watching from the corner of your eye as Rafe’s expressions changes. The tension between the two of you is thick. “Holy shit,” the other boy groans as you roll to your back, hands working up your body, toiling over the pink set that your ex bought you. You roll away, moving toward the pole, feeling the pull of Rafe still as you step away.

You grab the bar and flick your hair back to the beat drop, feeling the music pulse through you as you start to find your rhythm. “Y/n?” That same boy gossips to the boys next to him, the news spreading like wildfire a second later.

“Ain’t that your ex, Rafey?” You hear JJ chime in and feel your first sting of regret. “Just fuckin’ killin’ it. Aren’t you, princess?” He continues to needle as the rest of the boys pile on. Rafe’s brothers hoop and holler as he throws daggers at the group—his stare looking like it could fuckin’ kill.

And in that moment you can’t help but think back to the fight you had with Rafe, the one where he called ‘a fuckin’ whore’. The one where he questioned your loyalty to him, spouting off that you might be doing this all for the very boy who’s praising you now. That little ‘hey, pretty girl’ JJ said in passing just to grind his gears seemed ludicrous now. That slight sting of regret quickly soothed by the balm of pleasure.

Grabbing the pole, you spin around it with slight work, the spotlight shining as you danced. The crowd cheered louder and louder as the expression on Rafe’s face pulled darker and darker. His anger only fueling your performance.

“Take it all,” one of the boys cheers, tossing cash like rain. You turn around, smiling at the man on the opposite side of Rafe, thanking him with a look as you work lower and lower. The brunette moves forward, tucking a fifty-dollar bill in your bra strap with a smile. “For you, baby,” he hums in a smooth, inviting voice as the crowd roars. Rafe’s frat brother leans in closer, and so do you, lowering his voice slightly. “I’m reserving the champagne room, and I want you and only you. Alright?”

“What?” You ask with a curious tip of your head, playing innocent, but you heard him loud and clear.

“The champagne room. You and me,” he calls a little louder with a wicked smirk plastered on his lips. You smile at him, not agreeing or disagreeing, watching as Rafe pushes to his feet before your eyes can even turn to his— a mix of regret and helplessness as he shoves his way through the thick crowd toward the bar as your song closes out.

You crash down on the couch and pull out your phone, pounting your lip, half-expecting some message from Rafe. Nothing… You open Instagram, scanning Cali’s page, checking the post.

Rafe Cameron: My beautiful girl

Warmth floods through your body, butterflies swirling in your stomach. He could have sent a nasty DM telling you to take it down; he could have cursed out all the thirsty commenters, but he chose this route. My girl… Not at the moment, but your heart melted at his words.

“You saw it too?” Cali asks teasingly.

“Mhmm…” You admit, biting back your giddy smile.

“And, how does that make you feel, beautiful girl? Swooning?”

You chuckle and nod, feeling your cheeks burn from your smile. “A little.”

Before you can say anymore, the stage manager pops her head through the door. “Ladies, one of those boys reserved the champagne room. He specifically requested the both of you.” Your stomach turns, thinking about Rafe’s frat brother’s offer and the thought of him making good on his word.

The idea of dancing on the stage was one thing… Dancing privately? That would not happen. Not if I ever wanted to work things out with Rafe.

“Umm,” your friend hums uneasily from the other end of the room, picking up on the same thing.

“You two in or are you out? The guy who reserved the champagne room paid a lot to buy his brother out. He’s got it reserved until the bar close.” The anxiety you felt is snuffed out in an instant, a surge of happiness courses through you the next. Rafe. You nod excitedly as Cali rises on her heels as the night changes.

You take a deep breath, walking toward the Champagne Room, heart pounding with the bass. You look toward the stage, all of the boys long gone. Maybe they’re all in there? You step toward the curtain, hearing the glass clinking as a drink’s poured.

Cali grabs the curtain, pulling it back, drawing a wave of relief with it. You see your handsome ex sitting behind the table with three glasses of champagne drawn, thankful you only had to share him with Cali. You smile at him, watching the tension in his shoulders physically fall as he sees your expression, the man not knowing what to expect; the moment reminiscent of your first night together, how excited you were to climb into the hot tub with him.

“Hey, baby,” he grins, his voice deep and warm—eyes never leaving yours. Your heart swells at the sound of his voice. “This alright?” He asks, still giving you control of the situation, a genuine tone letting you know he was still giving you an out if this isn’t something you wanted to deal with. If you no longer wanted this… If you no longer wanted him.

“Mhmm,” you hum as you walk closer with Cali.

“I wanted to make sure you both felt comfortable,” he replies, glancing briefly at her before returning his focus to you. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured, especially since we’re… you know, figuring things out.”

“The entire night, Cameron?” Cali cuts in teasingly as she climbs on the table.

“Couldn’t take any risks,” Rafe sighs blissfully, watching you grab her hand to step on the table. The song changes overhead, filling the space around you.

Your heart pounds and you and Cali move in perfect harmony, bodies flowing and swaying to the music as if you’d never left. You catch his gaze again, causing a rush of adrenaline to course through your system. You can see the adoration in his eyes and the smile playing on his lips with every stolen glimpse.

He can't take his eyes off of you, that feeling that you lost coming back to you fast. You twirl and spin around the pole, catching your ex’s broad expression—a mixture of awe and lust. Rafe’s had more lap dances than he could count, but he’s never seen you like this.

As the song shifts, the beat transforms into something slower, the vibe in the room shifting to match the rhythm. You climb to your knees, crawling toward Rafe just as you did to his brother before. He smiles and shakes his head, leaning in as you draw nearer. The air between you, charged; tension thick, begging to be cut.

In one swift motion, he reaches for you, tugging you off the table and onto his lap, making you gasp as you settle into his embrace. The warmth of his body envelopes you, his rich cologne muddling your senses. “Princess. You’re killin’ me,” he groans, in a voice low and needy; his hold firm yet gently—the perfect cocktail.

“We just started, Rafey,” you whisper against his lips.

“Before we go any further, you gotta know how sorry I am, baby.”

“I know,” you whisper earnestly. “I know, Rafe.” You stare back into his pretty blue eyes, watching them shimmer under the neon club lights just like they had the week before when he was fighting back the tears like he is right now, but this time, he looks a little more hopeful. “Let’s have a little fun tonight. We can talk about it later. Yeah?” You echo those exact words you said to him on the first night you were together, making him chuckle and smile, feeling it too.

“Whatever you want. I’m down.”

“Atta boy.”

His hands hold onto your waist, letting loose enough for you to turn, pressing your back against his broad chest and your heels firmly planted on the ground, not wanting to let go now that he has you close.

Rafe’s big hands rest against the fullness of your thighs, moving higher, playing with the hem of your panties before skimming your stomach, resting on your tits. You grab his wrists, lifting his hands, and he doesn’t fight you, knowing he’s getting away with murder already, given the situation. “What does the sign say, baby boy?” Cali asks mockingly. Rafe’s head falls back on the back of the booth as he lets out a sleazy laugh. Rafe follows your lead, tucking his hands under his thighs.

“No touchin’.”

“No touchin’, Cameron,” you smile. You roll your body into him as Cali steps down from the table. Your curves push into him, each grind and roll making him sweep for a breath. "Remember this, Daddy?" You whisper against his ear in a taunting hum, feeling as his heartbeat racing against your back.

He turns toward you, tucking himself in your neck, chuckling warmly, his voice fanning against your skin as you hook your hand around, clutching him for support, manicured nails scratching into his hair at the nape of his neck. “You feel how hard I am right now, doll? Been thinkin’ about this shit every night. ‘Course I remember.”

“Look at you bein’ a good boy,” Cali praises as Rafe keeps his hands to himself, his jaw clenched tight as he tries to keep himself in check.

“Tryin’ Cals…” He soughs as his eyes fall down your body, picturing you riding him just like this. “Fuck, baby. You looked amazing up there,” Rafe praises as you swivel your ass on top of him. “So fuckin’ perfect.”

“Our girl always looks good,” Cali coos as she hooks her finger under your chin, guiding your lips to hers. Cali leans in, her mouth barely grazing over yours, turning it into a soft, lingering kiss. “Just give me the word, and I’m out,” she smiles along your lips, her sultry voice gentle, for your ears only.

“Thank you, Cals,” you hum, watching Rafe shift closer, hoping you’ll invite him in too. You pull back slightly, glancing at Rafe, catching the heat in his stare. He swallows hard, every inch of him screaming with desire, muscles flexed to keep his hands at bay, fully lost in the moment. You look back at Cali, cocking your head slightly, nodding at Rafe, a secret conversation shared between the two of you.

"What are you two doing? Huh?" He asks through a breathy laugh, feigning innocence, but his dark, lust-hazed stare says the complete opposite.

"Just making sure you're comfortable," you smile as you cup his cheeks. Rafe melts into your touch as you lean in, the man humming as you kiss the corner of his mouth. Rafe chases your lips as you pull away; lashes fluttering open as your hands fall down his body. You pop each button open, feeling the moment's thrill intensify with each peek of tanned skin. "Look at you," you whisper desperately as you eye the man before you.

“So handsome,” Cali mumbles as she pushes your hair off your shoulder, kissing along your neck.

"More comfortable now," Rafe quips, reveling in your playful teasing. His broad, muscular chest rises and falls with his quick breathing.“Fuck… Ya’ll aren't doin’ this for everyone? Right?” He pants with a joking bite as his eyes follow you.

You roll your eyes and smile as you play with the hardware of Rafe’s belt as Cali toys with the clasps of your lingerie, peeling the lace off your skin before grabbing your tits. “Only for you.”You lower his zipper; Rafe quickly takes his cue, fighting his jeans off his thighs as he watches Cali’s hands and lips caress you. Rafe pulls his boxers down, fat cock painfully hard, smacking his toned stomach with an upward curve.

You reach for him, guiding him where to sit, pulling him to the edge of the seat. Wrapping your fingers around his long dick you stroke him nice and slow with your hands as Cali gathers your hair from behind, pulling it into a makeshift ponytail, the sight making the big frat boy’s eyes roll back in his skull.

You swirl your tongue around his pulsing head, taking a few shallow, teasing bobs that has his abs flexing tight. You drag off his cock, leaving behind a wet mess, saliva strung from his red tip to your pillowy lips. “So beautiful. Fucking hell, sweetheart. More… Give it to me,” he groans drunkenly as you move even closer, resting his girthy dick between your breasts. Cali reaches around your body, pushing your plush tits around him, making him suck his bottom lip between his teeth.

His hooded eyes finally leave yours, falling down your perfect body, landing where his throbbing cock lay nestled between you. “Fuck me, Rafe.”

“Oh, fuck,” Rafe moans in reply; forearms and biceps flexing as he quickly pitches his hips upward, fucking himself with your tits. He moans like a fucking pornstar, panting and huffing as he uses your body like a toy.

Precum beads at the tip of his cock, rolling down the side before coating his length as he continues to stroke. You lay out your tongue for him, looking for a little more, and without being told, he smiles down at you devilishly, tilting in just enough to spit in your mouth. The wet drips off your tongue, falling between your breasts onto his cock. Cali jiggles your tits, playing a cruel game with him, making his thick thighs clench under your hold.

"Just killin’ me… C’mon," Rafe moans, still using your breasts to stroke his length. “Gonna cum. Where do you want it, princess?”

“In our mouths,” you smile, making him let out your name through a shaky breath. The two of you move on either side of his trembling body, gliding your tongues up the side of his long, thick dick to the tip.

“Fuckkkk,” he curses and groans, releasing his arms from under his thighs to grip the back of the leather bench as your tongues swirl together, teasing the tip of his cock again and again until he’s cumming in spurts, the two of you catching his load on your lips and tongue continuing to kiss eachother as you wrap your fingers around his dick, coaxing out the last bit of his release.

Cali reaches over, pinching your cheeks, snowballing his cum into your mouth. Smiling at you as you swallow it all, cleaning off your pouty bottom lip with her thumb.

Rafe loses all control, reaching for you and pulling you toward his lips. Your mouths crash together, your heart fluttering with warmth at his softness and familiar taste that has shivers falling down your spine. With each swirl and flick of your tongue against his leaves, you feel like you could float away.

He slows his pace, wrapping his strong arm around your body, pulling you into him, his dewy skin clinging to yours. “Can we have a minute, Cals,” Rafe mumbles against your lips. Her heels click against the floor, already at the curtain, smiling delightedly for you and him, giving you a little wink before slipping out.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers just above the thump of the music, his deep voice laced with raw vulnerability. “I was… I don’t even have the right words for how stupid I was. My jealousy. I know it was out of control. I just… I was jealous, especially when I saw other guys looking at you. I was scared of losing you.”

“I never gave you a reason to worry, Rafe…”

“I know, princess. I never wanted to make you feel like I didn’t trust you or make you feel suffocated. I see now how unfair I was being. I was lettin’ my insecurity get the better of me. You were right, baby.” The regret is clear, painted all over his handsome face. His broad shoulders slump at the weight of his regret; his forehead tilts against yours. “Called you some awful shit too…”

“You did…”

“Please, forgive me,” he begs. “I just need you in my life. You make everything better. I’ll treat you right. Yeah? Just please.”

“I forgive you, baby-”

“Need you to say it,” he whispers. “Tell me you're my mine.”

“I’m your yours.”

“God, that sounds so fuckin’ good,” he drawls, his voice thick like honey. “You mean everything to me. I'm not perfect. Clearly… We both know that, but I’m not going to fuck up like I did. I promise. Okay? You mean too much to me.”

“Okay, baby,” you smile warmly as your forehead rests against his.

“You know, I love you.”

You brush your thumbs along his cheeks, relishing those sweet words he's never said before. "I love you too," you whisper back, trembling with excitement and emotion.

“Yeah?” He asks happily as he pulls you in a little closer, elated, somehow worried you wouldn’t say it back.

“Mhmm… I love you, baby,” you mumble against his lips.

“I love you, princess… So much. Holy shit,” he groans as he buries himself in your neck, hugging you tight. “Worst fuckin’ week of my life, baby—Missed you. Fuck, I missed you, pretty girl. N’shit… I forgot how filthy you are,” he teases as he kisses along your neck, tickling your sides, making you squirm away, but he’s just too strong.

“Rafe, stop,” you scold through a giggle. He pulls back, relaxing in the booth, beckoning you with his stare as he licks his perfect lips. “Maybe I am… But you fuckin’ love it,” you smile as you tilt closer with each word that falls from your tongue.

“I’m a slut for you. That shit’s clear, princess.”

“Crystal clear,” you whisper as your lips brush him gently. Rafe lifts his hand, flicking his wrist, catching the time on his watch.

“Got an hour left, pretty,” he smiles as his big hands move lower, playing with the hem of your panties. You rise on your heels, letting the man pull your lingerie over your curves. He kisses your skin, lingering as the pink lace falls around your ankles.

“I’m all yours,” you breathe as he pulls you back onto his lap.

You suck in a breath as he cups your wet pussy in his big hand before curling two fingers, easing them inside you slowly as your head falls back. "That's it… Just take it, baby,” he groans, working them in and out of you at the perfect pace.

You lean forward, wrapping your hands around his neck, panting into his warm neck as he curls his fingers inside you, rolling his big thumb on your clit. Your pussy squelches with each push of his hand, making him release a hungry moan. Rafe lifts you effortlessly, laying you on your back, burying himself between your thighs, lips locking on your puffy clit. Your hips buck, but he strong-arms you, pinning your hips in place, lapping at your cunt.

“Rafe… Please,” you whimper, teetering on the edge of ecstasy as he plunges his tongue in your greedy hole, throwing you over the edge. Your fingers twist into his carmel-colored strands, tugging as your pleasure releases, pulsing around his tongue as he brushes his fingers quickly; Rafe moaning into your pussy between breaths.

Your body melts into the booth, hips rocking into him as his tongue dances, kisses, and drags through your soaked folds. He lets out a raspy, satisfied chuckle as he crawls closer, jerking his cock in his big fist before pressing it against your glossy hole. You reach for a breath, tears of pleasure soaking your cheeks already, looking up at the man who has no intention to stop ‘til you properly fucked out.

You gasp as he thrusts into you roughly, knocking the breath out of your chest. “Finally, princess… Mpfhh. Fuckin’ missed this shit,” he croons as he hooks your legs over his wide shoulders, pressing his weight into you to see how deep he can get.

“Fuck, Daddy,” you whimper, eyes rolling back as he drags his cock out before before thrusting deep again. Your clear heels clack with every snap of his hips; Rafe, hitting all the right spots, making you see stars.

“You like this shit, princess. Love bein’ stuffed full of me. Huh?”

“Yes. Yes, Fuck.” You whine as he punctuates your words with a rough thrust.

Rafe switches positions, grabbing your wrists, pinning them above your head with a single hand. He uses the other to clasp your chin, guiding your lips to his. His tongue slides along yours, hints of your arousal and his melting together, along with the sweetness of his lips, leaving you whimpering against his mouth. “Just pullin’ me in,” he grunts as your body swallows him up.

“Rafe… Fuck. Shit,” You whine as he snakes his other hand up, fingers interlocking with yours.

"Me too, princess," he whispers against your lips, toned hips speeding up, chasing his orgasm and yours.

Just like that, your body lets go, heels digging into the leather seat, hands squeezing Rafe’s tightly as your wet walls pulse around his thick length; Rafe fills you with white ropes of cum as he pushes his load deeper and deeper ‘til all that’s left is panting breathes and ‘I love you’s.’

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ ⋆ ࣪. ˖ ࣪⭑ ˖ ࣪ ٬ ุ๋ ⸱ ⊹ ｡✧ ﾟ˖

tags: @loserboysandlithium @rafesthroatbaby @kisses4angels @watchmerora @babygorewhore @buckybarnessweetheart @anamiad00msday @littlelamy @namelesslosers @cades-outsider @romaescapes @starkeysprincess @oxpogues4lifexo @unrealmirrorball @sleepiibunniiii @gri959 @rafesgiirl @daryldixon83 @akobx @hyperfixationgirl @lhhlver @rrafeswhore @slut-4-gojo

#rafeyscurtainbangs library 📚#rafe cameron #rafe #outer banks #obx #rafe x reader #rafe smut #rafe x you #Rafe Cameron smut #r #frat bro rafe #frat rafe #frat!rafe #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe x reader smut

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notlongtolove · 3 days ago

Text

the fox and her hound

“a fox?” he repeated, and you nodded. “a vixen.” spencer doesn’t understand why you call yourself a fox, not really. so you show him. not all at once, but in pieces, small glimpses of your world that you let him catch—if he can keep up.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: fluff with a pinch of angst

content: a love story told through the allegory of a fox and a hound, mentions of metaphorical wounds

word count: 2k

note: no linked poem bc idk just thought of this and wanted to write it. mayhaps im taking this nature trope a tad too far lol but anyways i will probably come back to edit this.

a line: They don’t see it, do they? The way the fox rolls in the field when she thinks no one’s looking, laughing under her breath as she goes.

On your first date with Spencer, you’d asked him what animal he’d be. He had paused, tilting his head just slightly. He’s never understood why people ask questions like these. What animal? What color? What season? Animals are animals, colors are colors. It would be impossible to pick one to embody his entire being. Such separate realms of nature, totally different worlds, he thinks.

But you’re sitting across from him, head tilted, eyes glinting under dim light. Pretty. So pretty. He doesn’t want to disappoint you, doesn’t want you to think he’s boring or stiff or unfun. He wants to answer correctly, even though he knows there’s no “correct” answer to this.

“Maybe a golden retriever,” he said, trying to keep casual, “or a beagle. Something friendly.”

Something safe, he thinks. Something pretty girls statistically like.

You had smiled then, slow and soft, lifting the glass of whiskey to your lips, you said with all the certainty in the world:

“I’m a fox.”

“A fox?” he repeated, and you nodded.

“A vixen.”

You didn’t explain it, just swirled your glass like you were swirling the word on your tongue. You loved the taste of it, loved the way it warmed your chest on the way down. Foxes are well-adapted to stay warm. Their thick winter coats, their long, bushy tails. They don’t need anyone to hold them when the frost bites or when the wind howls through the trees.

Spencer doesn’t understand why you call yourself a fox, not really. The dog stays close to the house. He doesn’t stray far, never been anywhere else. He doesn’t know. So you show him. Not all at once, but in pieces, small glimpses of your world that you let him catch—if he can keep up. The forest is dense, you see, the paths are winding and uneven. The shrubbery is thick, sharp branches clawing at the skin. There are logs in the way and the dog stumbles over them sometimes. You wonder if he’s getting tired, if your hidden path is too hard for him to navigate. If the spiders that weave their webs in his face and the fire ants that bite at his ankles are too painful to endure.

So, sometimes, you stop. You sit together on the forest floor, catching your breath. You wag your tails lazily and just talk.

“You know I’d never do anything to hurt you, right?” he asks one evening.

The fox doesn’t answer right away. Her ears twitch, and her eyes flicker toward the trees.

“I don’t like the word never,” she says finally, “It feels like an impossible standard.”

The dog thinks about this, his brow furrowing. “Okay,” he says after a moment. “I don’t ever want to hurt you.”

“I know,” she replies, her voice soft.

But the fox knows her way through the forest. She knows every twist and turn, every trap hidden beneath the leaves. You tell the dog he’d never catch up, sometimes hiding, sometimes running faster—just to see if he’ll try. Spencer doesn’t tell you how he sees that every time you disappear into the trees, you always turn back. Always looking over your shoulder, always checking to see if he’s still behind you.

Eventually, you reach your den. Your fur coat is scratched and bruised from the branches and the logs, the forest leaving its marks on you like it always does. But you’re here. He’s here.

Silently, you wonder how many more times you’ll have to make this journey. You don’t think you can endure another. But you don’t say it.

Instead, you take him inside.

Your den is small, cobbled together from dirt and leaves, from twigs and scraps you’ve gathered over the years. You show him your dirt mantle, how you’d packed it tight with earth and how you’d lined with relics of your life. You show him the first flower you ever found, or what’s left of it—a brittle stem, its petals long gone. You tell him the story of the hound who crushed it.

There’s a feather on the wall, light and fragile, from the first bird you ever caught. You smile as you tell him the story of the chase, how fun it had been to run and run with your foxes until the world blurred around you. Until you were the only one left. In the corner, something glints: A metal buckle, tarnished but unmistakable. From the shoe of the first hunter who’d ever caught you.

You trace your fur with your fingers, telling Spencer your adventures and stories of the traps and the teeth, of the hunters who came with rifles and ropes. The dog sits, listening, understanding. You show him how the edges of your den are marked, too. The walls are carved with notches—five, ten, fifteen. Each one a hunter or hound you’d escaped from. You’re proud, you say, even as you run your hand over the rough lines. They’re proof you survived, that you’ve outwitted them time and time again. Not unwounded, not unbroken, but alive.

You tell him you’re very proud of yourself.

The dog tilts his head, watching you carefully. He sees the way your voice falters when you recount the stories of cages and leashes, how your tail twitches when you mention the hunters. Spencer thinks the fox is lying.

So, the dog tries to teach the fox his ways.

He clears out your mantle first. He takes down the brittle flower stem, the feather, the tarnished buckle. Then, he takes your paw and shows you how to sniff out the bright pretty toadstools, the ones that make the forest less dark. He shows you the rain puddles, not just for drinking, but for jumping in, for splashing until your laughter scares off the birds.

Together, you fill your den with new relics. Ticket stubs from the village fair, postcards you write but never send, laughter tucked away in secret corners. Kisses, soft and warm, planted like seeds that grow slowly into something that feels like home.

Spencer rubs off the old notches on your walls with the pads of his paws, the dust of their memory falling to the floor. In their place, you make new marks. Not notches, but drawings. A fox curled in the safety of her den. A dog lying beside her, his muzzle resting on his paws.

Night after night, you curl up beneath your mantle, snouts touching, tails tucked beneath you.

And then winter comes. Now, your walls feel too big for just a lone fox.

You see, the dog always listens to his master. He sits, he fetches, he stays. But always under command, always under the whistle’s call. And when his master calls, he has to go. Tail wagging or tucked low, he goes.

“You’re hardly ever here anymore,” your voice cuts sharper than you meant it to.

“Can we please not do this now,” he says almost pleadingly, his jaw tight.

For the first time, in the quiet of your den, the fox feels the cold.

The dog goes. The fox doesn’t follow. She can’t. She doesn’t belong where the dog goes—to places of shiny badges and polished shoes, of clean, carpeted floors and voices that echo off tall, glass walls. So she waits in her den, her fur bristling against the chill, her paws worn from pacing the same patch of dirt.

You try to remind yourself of who you are. A fox, sly, swift, clever. A fox, who doesn’t need to wait for anyone.

But still, when the forest quiets, you glance toward the trees. You press your ear to the ground, hoping to catch the faintest echo of his steps, the rustle of leaves under his paws. The fox runs her fingers over the edges of the drawings, tracing the uneven lines, patching the spaces in her den where the light and the wind get in with twigs and leaves. She roams the fields, trying to race the clouds again. But she doesn’t think she runs quite as fast without Spencer beside her. She chases her tail like he taught her, spinning in quick circles, but it’s not as fun when she’s alone. She doesn’t try to catch the birds anymore. It doesn’t feel the same.

When Spencer comes back, his coat bruised and worn from his time away, the fox licks his wounds. The scrapes and the scratches, soft and slow, patching his paws with the leaves she’s saved. He carries something in his teeth—a token, a peace offering, a sign that he thought of you while he was away.

A flower.

He’d found it near the river, petals still dewy, fragile and bright. He hopes you like it. You do.

You take it from him with careful paws, eyes tracing its delicate form before placing it on your mantle, next to the postcards and ticket stubs, next to the daffodils, peonies, dahlias, irises and all the other flowers he’s found for you over time. You think back to the brittle and dead stem you once kept and wonder if there’s any way to hold onto something that beautiful forever.

Because sometimes even beautiful flowers die.

And when it comes to fight or flight, the fox always runs. They say it’s in her blood, in her very nature to flee. So she bolts. She runs away from the den, away from the mantle and the flowers he’d collected. The fox doesn’t know if she can find flowers quite as beautiful as the ones Spencer has given her.

You don’t need the flowers, you tell yourself. You’ll find a new den, find new birds to catch, rebuild your mantle from scratch, carve new notches in your walls once more. You always do.

But the hound finds you. Bred for hunting. Tracking. Scenting. For knowing where to look and how to catch. Bred for the hunt, he always finds you. Your crouched back, tail down, ready to pounce or bolt if you have to. Every instinct telling you to run, to vanish into the underbrush before he can catch you.

“Open the door,” a voice calls, low and insistent.

The fox is curled in the corner of this den. It doesn’t hold the warmth of the last.

“I know you’re home.”

She shuts her eyes and digs deeper into the wall.

“Open the door,” he says, voice softening, pleading. "Please."

The fox exhales, and with a shudder that shakes through her, she reaches out and opens the door. She misses her flowers.

It’s not the chase you expect. No barking, no growling. You bare your teeth. But he doesn’t move. Doesn’t even flinch.

“What do you want?” she asks, claws sharp.

“I want to talk.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“Then I’ll stay here until you do.”

And so the fox and the dog sit. They wait and wait then talk and talk. By the time the first rays of the sun creep above the treetops, the fox is laughing again. It’s a sound that is warm and bright, something that makes Spencer’s heart feel a little fuller, a little lighter. He thinks he understands now.

They don’t see it, do they? The way the fox rolls in the field when she thinks no one’s looking, laughing under her breath as she goes. The way she finds the sunniest patch to lay in and closes her eyes, tail swishing in contentment. They only see the scars and the snarls. They don’t ever see the joy.

“Why don’t you trust me?” he asks, his voice gentle but steady, the kind of tone that makes it clear he already knows the answer.

“I do,” you say quickly, instinctively.

He doesn’t push. He waits.

“I know you don’t,” he says finally, not accusing, just truthful.

You look away, fidgeting with your tail between your legs. “I’m trying,” you whisper.

“I know,” he says again, softer this time, his tail brushing lightly against your side.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: you’re here that’s the thing by beabadoobee tsunami by niki

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x bau!reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader angst #spencer reid x reader comfort

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buck-star · 1 day ago

Text

Love and protection | B.B

>> He’s going through thick and thin with you, supporting you and helping you to rise. He’s supposed to protect you, but he makes it his task to love you, as well and who are you to complain about it when you can find happiness and love with him. <<

Pairing: Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Singer!Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 5.303 Words

Warnings: best friends to lovers, toxic ex-relationship, cheating, angst, fluff, petnames [babydoll]

Authors Note: The fanfiction is based on the song “jar of hearts”. I want to thank @mercurial-chuckles for helping me to come up with the idea and supporting me. Divider made by me.

Events: Build-A-Bucky-Bingo [Round One | August | Musician AU], Fandom-Free Bingo: Frosty Edition [O2 | Bodyguard AU | @fandom-free-bingo]

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

“I know I can’t take one more step towards you, ‘cause all that’s waiting is regret,” you sang, your voice shaking slightly. You looked around the bar. It was time to let go of the man you used to love, time to finally let him know that you moved on and that he couldn’t keep you trapped in his manipulative words and promises.

John sat next to you, his hand caressing your thigh softly. His eyes were pleading as he looked deep into your eyes. He tried to excuse everything with his softness, tried to excuse the way he looked at the woman with him just being nice and a gentleman. “You should know, baby. I’m a gentleman; I had to help her with her bags.”

“I don’t mind that. I just don’t like the way you looked at her, and especially not the way you touched her,” you mumbled, shaking your head slightly. John touched not just her groceries; he also touched her lower back — a bit too low when it came to your opinion. “You literally undressed her with your eyes. Your hand was almost on her ass, that’s not— I’m not jealous when you help. But I’m annoyed when you do that.”

“I’m sorry, please forgive me,” he said, running his hand higher. You tensed when his fingers brushed over your belly. You hated that he had such an effect on you — and even more that he knew exactly about it. “You know, I just can’t help myself. I shouldn’t have touched her like that or looked at her like that—“

“And you shouldn’t have left me with the heavy bags in the middle of the parking lots to help her,” you interrupted John. He nodded, his expression still pleasing, while his hand brushed back to stroke your thigh. “That wasn’t as gentlemanly as you try to explain to me.”

“I know, and I’m sorry about that. But I only want you; there is no one else. I don’t love her, and so you shouldn’t think about it, okay? I love you, okay?” He asked, using his free hand to grasp your chin softly and turn your face toward him.

Only when you nodded did he smile at you and lean in to press his lips against yours. It didn’t feel the same way it did months ago — the first time you kissed or the times you kissed when you started dating him. Right now, it was more like another empty promise you tried to believe because you hoped that he really meant it.

After all, you fell in love with him. It may have been a while since that, but there must have been something you said to him that made you fall for him. So you tried to convince yourself that this part of him has to be still there, deep down in the man you lived in an apartment with and slept in a bed with.

“Okay,” you mumbled and turned your face away from him. John grinned at you before he let go of you and got up from the bed. He turned around when he was halfway through the room. He had that shitty grin on his face, the glistening in his eyes that should have told you that John was going to break your heart, but you tried to oversee it. Because he loved you, didn’t he?

“Pizza? I order some, and then we can spend the evening watching some movies and cuddling?” He asked in such a sweet tone that it made your heart beat a bit faster. He held his hand out for you, and for a moment it just felt like John was being the one you fell in love with. You nodded and giggled as you grasped his hand, letting him pull you up and against him. “Knew I could make you happy with that, baby.”

“Don’t you know I’m not your ghost anymore. You lost the love I loved the most,” you continued to sing. The song held everything you never said out loud to John, everything you felt, everything that broke within you as you had to realize that he wasn’t who he made you believe he was.

One evening when you were just heading out of the bar with your bodyguard — Bucky Barnes — after a performance. He had his big hand on the small of your back, leading you through the crowd and making sure that no one was touching or attacking you.

When you reached the car, he opened the door for you, and you smiled at him before sitting in the backseat and making space for him to get into the car next to you. Bucky and you have grown best friends since he was hired to protect you. Your bond was pretty strong, and you were lucky to have such a good bodyguard but also best friend by your side.

Bucky got into the car as well, shutting the door and telling the driver to bring you back home. While he did that, you looked through your bag to find your phone, wanting to send John a message that the evening was amazing and that you would be home soon. But as you unlocked your phone and saw the message, your jaw dropped and your eyes watered.

Your best friend, who leaned back and looked at you narrowed his eyes. His body tensed immediately, and you were gritting your teeth. He assumed that John did anything, except him and Bucky; you didn't have many people else who could cause tears in your eyes that fast. His voice was soft and filled with concern as he tried to figure out what brought you close to crying. “Babydoll, what's wrong?”

Without a word, you turned your face as well as your phone toward Bucky. His ocean blue eyes flickered from your teary ones toward your phone. He read the message, his body tensing further, and a low growl left his throat as he stared at your phone with an angry expression.

“D-Did he… He’s cheating, isn't he?” You mumbled, and a single tear rolled down your cheek. You swallowed thickly, watching Bucky intensely; he was obviously fighting with himself — should he tell you the truth or tell you that it may have been an accident that John didn't mean it like the message said.

He lifted his hand, brought it to your cheek, and wiped the trail of the tear softly with the rough pad of his thumb away. You inhaled deeply, Bucky scent filling your nostrils as you leaned further into him until your head rested on his muscular shoulder. “I don't know. Babydoll, I'm sorry. It definitely looks like that, but we don't accuse him before we know, okay?”

Sometimes you wanted to laugh about Bucky's way to try and solve conflicts or how he always tried to not assume something you weren’t one hundred percent sure of. But at the same time, you knew that he was right. John obviously wrote you the message that said, ‘Hey, babe. Wanna come over alone tonight!’ But maybe — just maybe it could have been a misunderstanding.

“Wanna sleep at mine tonight, babydoll?” Bucky asked as he wrapped his strong arms around your small frame. You nodded, your face still hiding in his shoulder. Your heart was aching, broken, but at the same time you didn't feel as bad as you thought you would. They warned you that John was a playboy, that he would cheat at some point, and they weren't wrong. But you know that you would never fall too deep because you had your bodyguard — your best friend — who held you before that would happen.

Bucky told the driver to drive to him before you reached your house, where you would have seen the car that didn't belong to you or John. The car that was still familiar to you because it belonged to John's assistant. “He doesn't deserve you, and once he finds out you deserve better, he will regret leaving you in the dirt like that, precious girl.”

“I learned to live half alive, and now you want me one more time.” A few tears fell down your cheeks. Not because it was hurting you but because you finally were able to let go — to finally feel the relief to let go of the man you thought loved you.

The day after you found out about John cheating on you, you were back at his house — also your house. You didn't have much stuff you wanted to pick up from there but a few important things before you would move in with Bucky. He always told you, if you need somewhere to sleep, you can come to him, and after last night he offered to move in with him. He wanted to come with you to pick up your stuff, but since you asked him to get something for dinner, he told you to pick you up in half an hour to drive home.

“Baby, where were you? I was worried,” John said as you walked into the house. He was still sleepy, in just his sweatpants. You had to swallow down the lump in your throat while you blinked away the tears in your eyes. He could have worn a shirt at least to cover the scratches on his shoulders and the hickeys all over his chest.

“Next time, take care that she doesn’t leave such trails,” you mumbled, nodding toward him. John looked at his body, cursing under his breath while he tried to come up with a good explanation for all of it.

“Listen, I'm sorry, I was stressed and—” John said, trying to sound as convincing as possible. The two of you knew it wasn't the first time he was cheating on you; it wasn't the first time he ‘was stressed’. You shook your head, smiling softly through the pain of everything you went through because of him — the lies, the doubts, the feeling to never be enough, to everything he did while you tried to be perfect for him. “I'm sorry, we can talk, and I will change; you know I can change if you want me to.”

A soft chuckle left your lips; it wasn't funny, not at all. But you just couldn't help yourself when he said that. “You don't have to change; I never wanted you to change, and I still don't want it. I wanted you, not a person you pretend to be because you can't keep your dick in your pants.” You explained, a tear rolling down your cheek. Saying that out loud was not as easy as all the talks you had with yourself in your mind. “Was it me? What is that that made you cheat on me? I just… I just want to understand. Because the times you told me you love me and that we are a team, it was all a lie, wasn't it? Would you love me… Would we were a team, then you wouldn't even have thought about cheating; you could have talked to me. So what was it that wasn't enough for you?”

“I said I was stressed!” John said loudly, making you flinch. He groaned, annoyed. “Don't fucking flinch, or I will give you a real reason. I said I would change for you, so get your shit together and stop acting like the victim here. I'm sorry, I was stressed. Now calm down and stop this little tantrum of yours.”

More tears rolled down your cheeks. In your good times with John, you liked to forget about this side of him, the dark and threatening one. He showed you this side the first time you had a really big argument and you said you would sleep at a friend's house. You ended up in the bedroom you shared with him with a locked door until you were begging him to forgive you.

“I'm breaking up, John. This is not a tantrum or anything. I break up because you cheated on me,” you said quietly, trying to push past him to get your back. His laugh was dark and low as he grabbed your arm and pulled you back to stand in front of him. “Let go, please.”

“So you can run away? Do you think anyone wants you more than I do? They only like you because you can sing and your pussy is good enough for a night, but more than that, you're nothing. They are all just nice to get you into their bed; if they got you there, they throw you away, and you will crawl back to me, slut.” John smirked, lifting his hand to wrap it around your throat.

You closed your eyes; your breath was shaking. But to your surprise, his hand never settled around your neck. When you slowly opened your eyes again, you saw Bucky standing behind John, his big hand tightly wrapped around John's arm and holding it away from him. Bucky pulled John away from you, standing between the two of you to offer some distance and comfort for you.

“Babydoll, you good? Take it slow and get your stuff; can you do it?” Bucky asked softly. You nodded, smiling softly, before you wiped the tears off of your face and made your way to get all the stuff you needed. You heard Bucky discussing with John, and even though Bucky knew you could handle yourself, you were happy he decided to come in to check on you.

“Who do you think you are? Runnin’ ‘round leaving scars, collecting your jar of hearts. Tearing love apart.” Your voice was steadier with every word you sang. The pain and the tears that you wasted for John were finally the past. Your eyes roamed through the room to the bar, where you knew to find the man who didn't mind collecting every little piece of your heart but even put it back together in the most wonderful way you could ever imagine — someone who showed you what real love meant.

“He's the past now, babydoll,” Bucky mumbled as he held you tightly pressed against his chest. The two of you were lying on the couch, watching one of these cheesy romantic movies after the other.

After Bucky helped you with John and your stuff to finally break free from that manipulative man, he brought you both home. Wrapping you in a blanket and offering you all the ice cream, snacks, and cuddles you could ask for.

Only when the tears rolled down your cheeks, wetting his shirt, he knew it was okay to talk about John again. Bucky could read you like a book, knowing that you would be stuck in your thoughts as long as you needed, and once you were ready to talk, you would either do it or let him know in any way. Crying in this case.

As much as he hated to see you stuck in your thoughts or crying, he knew it was your way to get through stuff, to get over the situation with John. Bucky knew everything that happened between you and John; he was more than your bodyguard; he was your best friend, your safe place.

“You were and will never be the problem. He doesn't know how to treat a girl, his girl,” Bucky assured you, his calloused hand moving up and down your back while you tugged yourself further into his side. You inhaled Bucky's scent deeply — sandalwood, vanilla, and just him. “You're enough. He lost the most precious thing he had; it's his loss, not yours. babydoll.”

“But why cheating? He could have broken up, or whatever, but he cheated." You mumbled into Bucky's muscular chest, feeling the urge to sink your teeth into his meaty chest. Bucky was well trained, his shirts tight enough to expose everything that was hidden underneath, unless he was working, then he wore a hoodie that covered his thick muscles.

When you thought further about it, he always wore stuff that hid his figure, only showing as much as needed. While others would walk around, showing off their well-trained bodies, he only did it when he was home or around you in hotels or backstage. You even saw him multiple times without a shirt, drooling over his massive muscles and the way his skin was softly glistening from the water of the shower he had before.

“It’s not that I love him anymore, but the pain he caused... why cheating?” You asked once again, turning your head so your mouth was just above the swell of Bucky's chest. Before you could hold back, you confessed your thoughts to Bucky. “I really want to bite into your chest; it’s so perfect, I always wanted to try it.”

Bucky chuckled softly, causing his chest to vibrate slightly against you. “First of all, cheating is a way for some men to compare things. He knew he wasn’t as perfect as you, so he cheated with someone less worthy than you. Or maybe he did it just because he’s a dick, maybe both. But breaking up means losing you, so he couldn't just do it. He wanted you by his side, but he wanted more. Not because you weren't enough, but some idiotic men need a fuck with a younger woman to feel younger themselves.” Bucky explained, his thick fingers moving from your back to comb through your hair. He turns his head, a soft smile across his lips as he kisses your forehead softly. “Maybe you should bite into it then; try if it's as good as you think it is.

“You're gonna catch a cold from the ice inside your soul. So don't come back for me. Who do you think you are?” A soft smile creeped onto your lips as you looked over the crowd toward your boyfriend, who smirked at you. Bucky was the person who was the proudest of you; he knew what you went through; he was by your side every step from the time you met. Bucky couldn't be happier to call himself your boyfriend now, knowing that he was the reason for the beautiful sparkle in your eyes and the cute smile on your face — a smile that always lit up his world.

“Bucky?” You mumbled quietly as you walked into the kitchen. Bucky was standing with his back toward you. He only wore a pair of sweatpants, revealing his thick back with a few red stripes and hickeys. “He wrote a message.”

The brown-haired pushed the pan away, turning around with widened eyes as he watched you intensely. You hold up your phone, the messages John sends all over the screen, and you walk another step closer toward Bucky. He instinctively reached out, wrapping one of his thick arms around you to pull you against his chest.

"Dickhead doesn't know when it's enough, does he?” He muttered, taking your phone from your hand and looking over the messages John sent you. Bucky really hoped that John would let it be, that he would let you be happy, but John had other plans, trying to get you back with manipulation and in every way that he knew would hurt you.

John: You know damn well that I love you, so stop your little tantrum and move your fucking ass home.

John: Going out with Barnes now, huh? Do you think he wants more than your fucking cunt?

John: Once he gets your pussy, you will crawl home to me. And I tell you that now, you better think about a way to apologize, or I will fuck all those bitches you're so jealous about in front of you.

John: Better think about dating Barnes; no one will love you. I'm the only one, and you know that, to get your shit together and come home, bitch.

Bucky looks at you, his expression soft, and he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “You know he only wants to manipulate you. I love you; I really do.” Bucky presses another kiss to your forehead, his warm, plump lips lingering against your soft skin. “I love you more than anything, babydoll.”

“I love you, too, Buck.” You giggled softly, wrapping your hand around Bucky's wrist and moving a bit away from him so he could look at your phone again. You scroll down, revealing a message you send to John. “I responded to his messages; I just wanted to show you.”

You: You can call it a tantrum all you want; you can tell all your friends about it. Like you always did, no one of them cares about the truth anyway. You're pathetic, cheating on someone who was willing to give you everything. But I don't care about it anymore; I don't care about anything we had. It was an experience we had; it doesn't matter if it was good or not because now it's the past. And it's good the way it is, because the bitch won't come back to someone who treats her that poorly. You showed me you can wet your dick everywhere, so continue doing it.

You: Plus, you’re the one crawling back to me here. Trying to manipulate me like you did way too long already. Would he only want me for sex? He would have had more than one opportunity to do so. But Bucky isn’t like you. He doesn't jump on the next best girl, and also not on me. He knows how to spend time without needing any sexual activities. You may think he only wants one thing, but I know him better.

Bucky looked from your phone toward you, a wide grin across his handsome face. He nods slowly, causing a strand of his brown hair to fall into his face. You reached up with one of your hands, brushing the strand behind his head before you kissed the tip of his nose.

“I don't care what he calls me; I don't care what he says. I know you're by my side like you always were,” you mumbled with a soft smile. Bucky placed your phone on the counter next to the two of you, wrapping both of his arms around your waist to pull you even closer against his broad chest.

“Like I always will,” Bucky said, his lips pressing softly against yours. “I'm proud of you; that prick can fuck all the girls he wants. But he can't have my babydoll.”

“I hear you're asking all around if I am anywhere to be found. But I have grown too strong to ever fall back in your arms.” The song continues, and you feel the excitement inside of you growing. It was the last song you dedicated to him. You know you found your happiness in the man, who sits with a proud smile and light eyes at the bar, watching you intensely.

“He's looking for you, babydoll.” Bucky mumbled, pulling you closer toward him so he could shield you from John. It was just after one of your performances, and you hadn't seen John in the crowd, but the moment you wanted to get back to the car to drive home with Buck, your boyfriend spotted him. “He even asked the staff about your performance.”

You nodded, looking around. Bucky pulled his hoodie over his head without thinking, earning a lot of glances and even a few gasps from the women around you as he revealed his trained body to everyone. Even though he wore a thin sweater, it was like a second skin and didn't leave much to the imagination.

“Now they are all staring at you,” you chuckled, running your hand over Bucky's shoulder to his chest. He shrugged, smirking as he held the hoodie above you. It was warm and smelled like Bucky, and for a moment you felt like it was just the two of you. “Smelling good.”

“Not as good as it will smell when you wear it a bit. Now let's get out of here; they can stare at one another; this body here belongs to you, just like my heart. I only have eyes for you, so there is no need for them to stare at me like they could have me, because they can't,” Bucky explained, his voice low but soft as he leaned even closer. He put the hood over your head and wrapped an arm tightly around your waist. “Damn, you look fucking amying in my hoodies; you should war them more often.”

“So you can complain that you can't focus on working when everything smells like me?” You asked quietly so no one would hear the two of you. Bucky laughed softly. You had a point; he said that once.

“It smells like you anyway. So, forget what I said; you’re adorable in my clothes. Show everything that you belong to me.” Bucky led you out of the little club, toward the car. The two of you were pretty sure no one was following you because, with Bucky’s hoodie, you weren't as visible as yourself. And Bucky was known to wear clothes that covered more of his body than those tight second skin stuff.

But when you reached the car, a familiar voice came from next to you. A cold shiver ran down your spine, and you pushed yourself further into Bucky's side. “Was looking for you just to see you with your little bodyguard, huh?”

You slowly turned around, Bucky's arm still tight around you. You were face-to-face with John, who smirked at you. And you wanted to punch his face so hard, but you didn’t, not wanting to get any trouble. Even though you were pretty sure everyone would understand and support your decision to mark his face with a pretty print of your hand.

“You should stop tracking me; stalking isn't nice. We broke up, and my little bodyguard is actually pretty big and strong, so you better watch your dirty mouth,” you grumble, earning a soft laugh from Bucky, whose eyes were focused on you.

He always knew what you were capable of, but he never thought you would face John like that after all he did. But you did, and he couldn't be more proud of you. Bucky felt only happiness and love when he watched you. Even though he knew he was a part of making you stronger than you were because of his support and his unconditional love, he fell even harder in love with you.

John gasped, not knowing what to say. You never dared to talk back to him like that and slowly noticed that he messed up. That he lost what he should have loved, but you found someone who gave you what you were always looking for and what you deserved. It didn't mean he would give up to get you back, but he knew it wasn't as easy as he thought.

“Once he's bored of you, you will come back to me,” he muttered under his breath, turning to walk away. He muttered some more, but you didn't understand what and you also didn't care. You knew Bucky wouldn’t get bored because he wasn't John. Bucky was different, sweet and loving, taking care and helping you to raise instead of pushing you down.

“It took so long just to feel alright. Remember how to put back the light in my eyes. I wish I had missed the first time that we kissed.” You continued to sing, your eyes roaming further through the crowd until they settled back on Bucky.

“Can’t you just forgive me?” John asked; he found out where your next performance was and booked a ticket under another name to get close to you.

Unfortunately, Bucky was busy getting the car parked. The two of you were sure that John wouldn’t dare to be seen there because he wouldn’t be allowed to get inside if they read his name on a ticket.

But with another name on it, he was allowed to get into the club. And now he was standing backstage with you, his hands pushed into the doorframe to block your way.

“I said I’m sorry. I love you,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “You really think you found someone better than me? He’s your bodyguard, but he can’t offer you what I can.”

“Right, he can’t. Because he can offer me so much more. He loves me the way I am, and he helps me to reach my goals, to grow, and to achieve what I would like to. He’s so much more than just my bodyguard,” you explained. John shook his head once more. “I hope you find someone who will show you the love he shows me. Because then you will understand.”

John groaned frustrated; he pushed himself backwards and away from you. He didn’t know what to say; he wanted to curse or insult, but he knew it wouldn’t help. John wanted to beg, to tell you he would be better, but the way your eyes lit up when you talked about Bucky. He never saw them glistening like that when you were with him. It was Bucky who made you happy, who brought back the love and joy after John ruined it.

“What are you doing here?” Bucky asked from behind John. His voice was low, and he sounded slightly mad. You noticed his tensed muscles, smiling softly to assure him that everything was fine.

“I wanted to go right now,” John mumbled before pushing past the bodyguard. Bucky looked after him only when he was out of his sight. Bucky turned to you and grinned at you.

“Thought he could get you back? When does he understand that you’re mine?” Bucky said, walking closer and you backwards until your back was pressed against the wall, and he caged you between him and the wall. His arms on both sides of your waist as he pressed himself against you and kissed you softly. “All mine, my precious babydoll.”

“Cause you broke all your promises, and now you’re back.” Your eyes move once again over the crowd, and a familiar face appears in the back of the club. You swallow thickly. “You don't get to get me back.”

You didn’t feel anything for that man anymore; he was just like a memory of your past. Someone you used to know, someone who used to love — but also someone who hurt you and betrayed you.

You thanked the people for listening, and before you could walk off the stage, you saw someone storming toward you. Your lips curled up into a smile as you turned around and looked directly into the ocean blue eyes of your boyfriend.

“Fuck, I’m so proud of you. You showed them all, babydoll,” he mumbled, pressing his lips against yours. The kiss was soft, his plump lips moving softly, and you felt all the warmth he’s always causing once again erupting inside of you.

The crowd cheered and screamed, but for you, there was just Bucky. The world shut up; it was only you and him. His hands were holding you by your waist, pulling you closer into him.

“Thank you, I love you, my everything, my Bucky,” you mumbled against his lips. He smirked, kissing his way over your nose to your forehead and back down until he reached your lips again.

“I love you, too, my precious babydoll,” he said loud enough for the people in the club to hear. He claimed you in front of everyone, and he loved it. Bucky then lowered his head to your ear. “Now, let’s get somewhere private, because I need to kiss you so much more. I need to kiss you so badly, babydoll.”

Taglist: @pono-pura-vida @sergeantbarnessdoll @rogersbarber @kimmie113080 @sebastianstanisahotmf

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vashti-lives · 4 hours ago

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(Editing to add a tl;dr: these dolls were not for Christians in the broad sense these dolls were specifically made for fundies. Everything bad about them is on purpose!!)

Ok this is an easy detail to miss but the very end of that paragraph in Laylie’s story it mentions that someone called Millie brought her to god and I think it’s safe to say that Millie is white!!!! I mean I don’t know for sure but I feel comfortable guessing this! Because of course the subtext here is that it’s fine for Laylie to be free now that she has found god and accepted Jesus into her heart and ALSO that it’s fine that there’s still a bunch of slaves running around because they still haven’t fully become Christian.

Because like, the old school crypto white supremacist Christian nationalist view on slavery is that of course it’s bad but also… didn’t it bring a lot of nonbelievers* to Christ so like… wasn’t it kind of worth it? And now all their descendants get to live in the USA which is the bestest place ever to live and they should all be so grateful for this!!!!!!

Excuse me while I barf.

*feel free to substitute a lot of way more loaded racist terms here because they for sure would have been used I just don’t feel like repeating them even in character because gross.

Of course these days half these people are probably back to admitting they’re just flat in favor of slavery but in the year 2000 even the assholes had to at least sort of behave in public.

It’s also worth noting that while these dolls are a Christian alternatives to American girl dolls they weren’t like, actually aimed at a mainstream Christian audience, they were made for hardcore Christofascists. I think I’m slightly too old to have been the target audience for these dolls anyway but even if I wasn’t I would bet money my Presbyterian ass would have never run into them. As it is I certainly didn’t and my mom is a pastor, and I grew up in rural Idaho. I have been exposed to a lot of Christian versions of things.

They would not have passed the sniff test for even the more conservative of the mainline denominations. The big Christian bookstores were not carrying this line of dolls, I’m pretty sure the Elsie Disnmore was not being rereleased by the big mainstream Christian publishing houses. At least, not the ones I came into contact with, and definitely not as part of this doll line.

This is fundie shit. This was aimed at people knee deep in gothard flavored quiverful bullshit. Honestly I think the reason it failed was mostly a matter of distribution and finding their audience. In the early 2000s most of the people who would have been their target audience weren’t online and home church bullshit means they weren’t talking to each other enough for word of mouth buzz to sustain them.

That’s why they’re fine with the gross main romance and all anti historical stuff. American Girl Dolls being historical WAS the problem. These dolls are intended to groom girls into accepting marriage with adult men who are way too old for them and to foster a white supremacist view of history. These are features not bugs.

Oh god it gets worse

Okay, before I go any further I should give a little disclaimer that there's nothing wrong with doing a Christian-themed line of dolls. Toys and stories as a way to teach faith are nothing new and can be perfectly appropriate ways for kids to learn.

However the Life of Faith dolls are a unique kind of fucking horrible because they are obviously American Girl knockoffs. Instead of meaningfully engaging with the difficult themes of history like the AG dolls did, they present a disgustingly white-washed, pretty, frilly, and pleasant view of history that straight up ignores the dark stuff.

So the Life of Faith dolls are based on the Elsie Dinsmore stories which were published between 1867 and 1905. They're about a deeply faithful little girl who grows up on a plantation. In the books, when Elsie turns 18, she marries HER FATHER'S BEST FRIEND, because, to quote Wikipedia, "He has been her knight in shining armor who constantly helps her when other people are cruel to her; he has loved her for a long time." Yeah we call that "grooming" today.

Yeah, that's pretty sickening. But there IS a girl who escapes slavery in this series lemme see how that gets addressed....

WAIT YOU'RE TELLING ME SHE ESCAPES FROM THE SAME BEAUTIFUL PLANTATION THE OTHER GIRL WAS RAISED ON?! So when Elsie came of age she would literally own Laylie. Seriously did no one see the conflict in this?! Did no one involved in all of this stop for a moment and think, maybe we're not presenting a fully accurate view of history?

What really galls me is the playing Robin Hood stuff. While enslaved children did find ways to play and have fun, their lived were still dominated by the grueling, demeaning work they had to do. And they would not be given luxurious playthings like bows and arrows and green silk capes. And they didn't have frilly pretty dresses and elaborate hairdos.

I know the dolls are Christian and they all come with a little Bible but like.... Are we just gonna ignore the whole "slaves weren't allowed to read" thing?

While all the other dolls come with lots of dresses and accessories, Laylie only has the one dress and her Robin Hood accessories.

So yeah we're just skipping over the whole Civil War and Reconstruction. Violet is Elsie's daughter still growing up on the plantation like always.

So moral of the story, when you're trying to teach kids about history, maybe try a book series that wasn't written by this lady:

Because you actually can write stories about faith and being Christian that DON'T involve romanticizing slavery.

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faebled-stories · 1 day ago

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The Longest Month

Kinkvember Day 30: Orgasm Control/NNN

Kiss of life Natty (Anatchaya Suputtipong) x Male reader

21.8k words

AN: Last day of Kinkvember 🥹🥹 (might be a little rough on the editing, please forgive me)

Halloween night was alive with excitement. The crisp autumn air carried the sound of laughter, music, and the occasional howl of costumed revelers. Porchlights flickered over carved pumpkins, their grins twisted and glowing, while the streets buzzed with groups hopping from one party to the next. Inside your home, though, the atmosphere was calm and quiet, a comforting contrast to the chaos outside.

Natty stood by the door, dressed casually in fitted jeans and a snug sweater, her hair tied back in a way that framed her face perfectly. She smiled as she adjusted her bag over her shoulder. "I’m heading out with the girls," she said, her tone light and cheerful. "Just a little Halloween fun, nothing wild."

You nodded, a warm smile tugging at your lips as you stepped closer, placing a kiss on her forehead. “Have fun,” you said, your voice soft but sincere. “Call me if you need anything.”

She grinned, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before slipping out the door. The soft click of it closing behind her left the house quiet again. For a while, you settled into the stillness, content to let the evening pass uneventfully. The trust between you was implicit—Natty had always been honest, and you’d always respected her freedom.

But as the minutes stretched into hours, an uneasy feeling began to creep in. It was subtle at first, a whisper of doubt that you tried to shake off. She’d said she was with her girlfriends. There was no reason to worry. Yet the stillness of the house suddenly felt heavy, oppressive, as if something was just slightly out of place.

The buzz of your phone snapped you out of your thoughts. You picked it up, your brow furrowing as you saw the name: a friend of yours who worked as a bartender downtown. Opening the message, your stomach tightened at the words.

“Didn’t know Natty was hitting the scene tonight. She’s here at Platinum—hard to miss in that outfit.”

You stared at the text, your mind racing. Platinum? She hadn’t said anything about going to a club. The unease bloomed into suspicion as you quickly typed back.

“What outfit?”

The response came almost instantly, and when you read it, the words landed like a punch.

“Catwoman vibes, but damn, man… It’s a lot. Skin-tight, zipper low, fake tail. People are definitely looking. ”

Your jaw clenched as you reread the message, disbelief and frustration battling for dominance. She hadn’t just gone somewhere else—she’d lied. And she was wearing something that sounded far removed from her usual playful confidence, something designed to draw attention. Strangers were ogling her.

You didn’t bother replying. The anger was cold and focused, sharpening your resolve as you grabbed your jacket. The night air bit at your skin as you stepped outside, but the chill only fueled the fire simmering in your chest. You didn’t rush, your stride purposeful as you made your way, thoughts churning.

The trust you’d built, the respect you’d shown her freedom—tonight, she’d crossed a line. And by the time you reached the glowing lights of the club, you knew exactly what needed to happen.

Platinum was everything you expected—a pulsing epicenter of energy, where music pounded through the walls and spilled onto the street. The air inside was heavy with heat, a mixture of sweat, alcohol, and perfume that clung to your skin. Strobe lights sliced through the crowd, casting fleeting glimpses of costumed bodies pressed together in a chaotic dance.

You pushed your way through the throng of people, your eyes scanning the crowd. And then you saw her.

Natty was on the dance floor, her body moving to the rhythm of the music. She wore a skintight black spandex one-piece, the zipper pulled low enough to reveal the swell of her breasts. Fake cat ears perched on her head, and a thin decorative tail swayed with her movements. The outfit clung to her curves like a second skin, catching the light with every turn.

She was laughing, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol, her lips parted as she threw herself into the moment. Strangers circled her, their eyes lingering too long, leaning in too close. She seemed utterly carefree, completely unaware of the storm brewing in you as you watched from the edge of the crowd.

She hadn’t told you about this. She hadn’t mentioned a club, or an outfit that looked like this. She had lied.

Your emotions churned—anger, disappointment, the sharp edge of control you always held carefully in balance. But you didn’t react impulsively. Instead, you moved through the crowd with purpose, your gaze fixed on her.

The crowd buzzed around her, bodies swaying in chaotic rhythm, the pulsing music drowning out everything else. Strobe lights flashed in bursts, illuminating her in snapshots—a vision of confidence and teasing allure. Her laughter was bright, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol, as she leaned toward a stranger who was speaking too close. The low zipper of her costume shimmered under the lights, her every move a magnet for attention.

You stepped closer, your presence cutting through the sea of people. The noise and chaos dulled in your mind, every ounce of focus fixed on her. As you approached, she didn’t notice at first, lost in the moment, the music, and the hazy buzz in her veins. But when you reached out and tapped her shoulder, everything shifted.

She turned to you, her laughter faltering. Wide eyes met yours, the realization hitting her instantly. The flush of the alcohol drained from her face, replaced by something colder—guilt, fear, and the dawning understanding of exactly what was happening. The crowd around her seemed to fade into the background, her focus locked entirely on you.

Her lips parted as though she might say something, but no words came. She froze, her body stiff, the haze of alcohol lifting just enough to make the weight of the situation clear.

“We’re going home,” you said, your voice low and steady, cutting through the music with effortless authority.

The words were simple, but their effect was immediate. Her mouth snapped shut, and she nodded quickly, her head dipping in quiet submission. You didn’t wait for her to respond further. Without another word, you turned and began walking toward the exit, not sparing her another glance, not even taking her wrist to guide her. You didn’t need to. You knew she’d follow.

Behind you, her heels clicked against the sticky floor as she scrambled to keep up, weaving through the crowd. No one around her seemed to notice the shift in her demeanor, but you could feel it. The weight of her guilt, her submission, radiated in every hurried step as she followed you out of the club without needing to be told twice.

The crisp night air hit like a slap, the stark contrast to the heat and chaos inside. It was quieter out here, the muffled thump of the music still audible but distant. The autumn chill bit at your skin, but you barely noticed. Natty stayed close, her head bowed, her breath visible in the cold air. Her fake cat ears tilted slightly to one side, askew and crooked, as if even they reflected her subdued state.

She didn’t speak, and neither did you. The silence hung between you, heavy and suffocating, a clear signal that words weren’t needed. You led the way to the car, your steps purposeful, your jaw tight. Natty trailed behind, her head low, her shoulders hunched slightly as though trying to shrink under the weight of her own guilt. It wasn’t just her steps that were submissive—it was everything about her now, the way her presence shrank under your unwavering authority.

When you reached the car, your movements were calm, almost mechanical. You walked to her side, your expression neutral as you opened the passenger door for her. She hesitated for just a moment, her wide eyes flicking up to yours, searching for some indication of what you were feeling. But you gave her nothing, your face a mask of quiet control.

She slipped into the seat silently, her body tense as her hands fidgeted with the hem of her costume. The door closed behind her with a soft thud, and the stillness inside the car was oppressive. You moved around to the driver’s side, sliding in and gripping the wheel, but you didn’t start the car right away. Instead, you stared ahead, your jaw set as your thoughts churned.

From the corner of your eye, you could see her shift uncomfortably. Her breathing was uneven, her fingers gripping the fabric of her costume tightly as though it could anchor her. It was clear she was waiting, bracing herself for the storm to come. But you didn’t say a word. You let the silence stretch, thick and heavy, the weight of what had happened settling deeper over both of you.

Finally, you turned the key, the engine rumbling to life. The car pulled out onto the street, the bright lights of the club fading quickly into the rearview mirror. The ride home was long, the silence between you stretching like a taut wire, ready to snap. She glanced at you occasionally, her lips parting as though she wanted to speak, to explain, but she stopped herself each time. The tension in the air was suffocating, every unspoken word weighing her down further.

You didn’t look at her. Your gaze stayed fixed on the road, your hands gripping the wheel tightly. Her silence told you everything. She knew she had crossed a line, knew the trust you’d placed in her had been broken. And now, for the first time tonight, it seemed she understood—she wasn’t just caught. She was yours, completely.

When you arrived home, the quiet of the house was almost deafening. The faint hum of the fridge, the soft click of the front door as it shut behind you, even her hesitant footsteps on the hardwood floor—all of it felt amplified against the heavy stillness. She lingered near the entryway, her body stiff, her hands clenching at her sides. You didn’t say anything, your expression unreadable as you walked toward the living room.

Settling into the couch, you glanced at her, your eyes sharp and commanding. The weight of your gaze was enough to draw her forward, her body moving instinctively as though compelled. She sank to her knees in front of you, the skintight material of her costume creaking softly with her movement. The faint glimmer of the fabric caught the low light of the room, but her focus was entirely on you.

Her head bowed, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Her breaths came shallow and uneven as she knelt there, waiting for your words, knowing that whatever came next would be entirely in your hands.

The silence stretched, heavy and oppressive. You leaned back slightly, your arms crossed, letting her squirm under the weight of your gaze. Her breathing was uneven, her chest rising and falling in shallow bursts. The subtle tilt of her cat ears seemed to mirror the unease radiating off her as she knelt before you, unable to meet your eyes.

“Explain,” you said finally, your voice low and sharp, cutting through the quiet like a blade.

Her head snapped up for just a moment, her wide, guilty eyes meeting yours before darting away again. She swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. “I… I didn’t think you’d let me go if I told you about the party. I thought you’d get mad about the outfit, about the people—so I lied.”

Her hands moved restlessly, fidgeting at the zipper of her costume, the nervous gesture small but telling. Her shoulders were tense, her entire posture shrinking under the intensity of your silence. She hesitated before speaking again, her voice growing quieter, more fragile. “It didn’t mean anything. I wasn’t… trying to hide anything important.”

You let the words hang in the air, your expression unchanging as she squirmed. Her breathing hitched, her body trembling slightly as the weight of your silence pressed down on her. Her lip quivered, and she blinked rapidly, clearly fighting back the tears that threatened to spill.

“That’s not the point,” you said finally, your voice cold and deliberate. “It’s not about the outfit. It’s not about the party. It’s about trust. And you broke it.”

Her shoulders slumped further, her head bowing again as the full weight of your words hit her. She nodded faintly, her voice trembling as she whispered, “I’m sorry.” The words were fragile, so faint you almost missed them, and yet they carried the guilt and regret that were written across her face.

“When,” you asked, leaning forward slightly, “have I ever not let you go anywhere?”

Her head snapped up, her eyes wide and glassy. The question caught her off guard, and for a moment, she stared at you as though searching for the answer herself. Her mouth opened, but no words came out.

“When have I forbidden you from wearing the most revealing outfits?” Your voice softened slightly, but the disappointment still lingered in your tone. “When, Natty? Tell me.”

Her lips trembled, and her gaze dropped to her lap. “You haven’t,” she whispered, her voice so quiet it barely reached you.

You nodded slowly, letting the truth sink in for her. “Exactly. I’ve always let you make your own choices. Always given you permission. And yet, you still lied to me. Why?”

The tears she had been holding back finally spilled, rolling down her flushed cheeks. “I… I don’t know,” she choked out, her hands gripping the hem of her costume tightly. “I was stupid. I didn’t want you to be mad, and I—” She broke off, her voice cracking under the weight of her guilt. “I’m sorry.” The words were fragile, so faint you almost missed them, and yet they carried the guilt and regret that were written across her face.

You sighed deeply, letting the moment stretch, the weight of her guilt hanging between you like a tangible presence. Her fidgeting hands, the way her eyes darted to the floor, her lips trembling with barely spoken words—it all told you that she knew the gravity of what she’d done. And yet, the lesson needed to be clear. Trust wasn’t just something taken lightly in your dynamic; it was the foundation upon which everything else rested.

You considered your options carefully, your mind cycling through potential punishments, discarding each one almost as quickly as it appeared. Something physical? No, that wouldn’t linger in the way you needed it to. Silence? Distance? Those would create tension, but not the kind that would truly drive the lesson home. Then, like a light flickering on, the perfect answer surfaced—a punishment so fitting it almost seemed like the universe had handed it to you on a silver platter.

No Nut November.

The trend was a joke to most, a playful challenge making its rounds on the internet. But for Natty, it would be anything but playful. You knew her intimately, perhaps better than she even knew herself. Her teasing confidence, her constant craving for closeness, her love for release—it was part of who she was. Denying her that for an entire month wasn’t just a punishment. It was a torment. Something she would dread deeply and feel every moment of every day. And the timing was flawless.

Your lips curved into a faint smirk as you settled your gaze on her. She hadn’t dared to meet your eyes, her hands twisting nervously at the hem of her skirt as though trying to anchor herself. You let the silence stretch, letting the weight of the moment build until it felt almost suffocating. Then, your voice broke the stillness, calm and deliberate.

“If you’d been honest,” you began slowly, your tone measured, each word sinking deep, “I would have let you go. I wouldn’t have cared about the outfit, the party, or the people. But you lied, Natty. And now, there are consequences.”

Her head snapped up, her wide, fearful eyes locking onto yours. You saw the desperation there, the faint tremor in her lower lip as her mind raced to catch up with your words. “Consequences?” she echoed, her voice barely more than a whisper, the word trembling on her lips as though she were afraid to give it shape.

You straightened in your seat, the decision crystallizing as you delivered it with calm finality. “You’re going a month without cumming,” you said simply. “Starting now.”

Her reaction was immediate. She flinched as though struck, her lips parting in shock, her chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths. “A… a month?” she stammered, her voice pitching higher, the disbelief and panic unmistakable. “No—please, no. I’ll do anything else. Just not that—please!”

You raised a hand, the gesture silencing her instantly. Her mouth snapped shut, her breath catching audibly as her wide eyes remained locked on you, pleading silently. “No exceptions,” you said firmly, your voice steady, brooking no argument. “This isn’t just about the lie. It’s about trust. Trust needs to be earned back.”

For a moment, she was frozen, her chest heaving as she stared at you, her mind clearly working to process the weight of what you’d said. Then, slowly, the fight seemed to drain out of her. Her shoulders slumped, and her gaze dropped to the floor. The first tears shimmered in her eyes, catching the light, but she held them back with visible effort.

Her voice was small, trembling with guilt and something deeper—fear. “I… I understand,” she whispered, the words fragile and full of resignation.

“Good.” Your tone softened just slightly, enough to let her know you weren’t angry anymore, though the weight of your authority remained. “Go to the bedroom. We’re done here.”

She stood slowly, her movements hesitant and stiff, as though her body were fighting against her mind’s compliance. The faint click of her heels on the hardwood floor was the only sound as she retreated down the hallway. Her posture was smaller than usual, her confident aura replaced by something subdued, vulnerable. There was no defiance in her steps, no attempt to bargain further—only quiet acceptance of her fate.

As she disappeared into the bedroom, the sound of rustling sheets filtering back to you, you let out a long breath, running a hand through your hair. The tension in your chest eased slightly, replaced by a calm satisfaction. You weren’t angry anymore. This wasn’t about revenge or punishment for its own sake. It was about re-establishing the foundation that held everything together—trust.

You sank into the couch, the weight of the moment settling over you like a heavy blanket. The balance you’d struck was delicate, but you knew it was necessary. Natty needed this, not just to understand the gravity of her actions but to grow from it. Deep down, you knew she would.

-----

The first few days passed in an uneasy stillness. The house, once filled with Natty’s teasing comments and playful laughter, now seemed quieter, the air heavier. Her usual spark had dimmed, her presence muted in a way that was both unfamiliar and telling. She moved through the rooms carefully, her steps softer, her gaze lowered whenever she passed you. It wasn’t fear—far from it. It was something deeper: submission edged with guilt.

She stayed busy, as though keeping her hands occupied would prevent her thoughts from spiraling. She fetched your coffee before you asked, setting it down with a barely audible, “Here you go.” She folded blankets that didn’t need folding, straightened things that were already straight, her hands fidgeting when there was nothing left to do. Her movements were deliberate, every action laced with a quiet hope that her obedience might earn her reprieve.

When she thought you weren’t watching, she allowed herself quick glances in your direction, her eyes searching for any hint of forgiveness. But when you met her gaze, her expression flickered, and she quickly looked away, her cheeks warming. She brushed against your side tentatively in passing, her fingers grazing your arm or shoulder as if testing the waters. Each time, you remained composed, offering no indication that her efforts were noticed.

The absence of reaction clearly unsettled her. For a moment, it almost seemed like she thought you’d forgotten about her punishment. But even then, the unspoken tension lingered between you, a quiet hum that grew louder with every passing hour.

By the third day, the shift in her behavior was undeniable. The subtle signs of restlessness began to creep in. She wrung her hands more often, her fingers twisting and untwisting as she tried to channel her growing nervous energy. When she sat, her knees bounced slightly, her body refusing to stay still. Her cheeks flushed more frequently, a faint pink that deepened whenever you entered the room. She wasn’t fully aware of it yet, but the need was beginning to stir—a slow, creeping sensation she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

It was most evident when you were close to her. In the kitchen, as you stood near her to reach for something, she froze momentarily, the proximity sending a jolt through her. Her breath hitched, her hands trembling slightly as she tried to keep them occupied with a dish she was already drying.

“Something wrong?” you asked casually, your voice calm but pointed.

“N-no,” she stammered quickly, shaking her head. Her cheeks burned, and she turned away, her movements stiff as she set the dish down. She didn’t look at you, but the tension in her posture told you everything.

Later that evening, as you sat on the couch reading, she lingered in the doorway, clearly uncertain about what to do. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. When she finally stepped forward, she stopped a few feet away, her voice hesitant.

“Do you… need anything?” she asked softly, her words laced with hope.

You didn’t look up, turning a page instead. “No,” you said simply, your tone neutral.

Her shoulders sagged slightly, and she nodded, retreating back to the other room. The disappointment in her expression was brief, but it was there. You watched her go, noting the way her hands brushed against her thighs, as though grounding herself against the slow, creeping need she hadn’t yet put a name to.

As the hours stretched into night, the tension in her body became more visible. When she settled into bed, she shifted restlessly beneath the sheets, her breathing uneven. The faint sound of the fabric rustling was the only indication of her growing discomfort, but it was enough to bring a faint smirk to your lips. She wasn’t fully aware of it yet, but the punishment was beginning to take root. It was slow, deliberate, and exactly as it was meant to be.

Deep down, Natty must have known it too. But she clung to a fragile hope—a thought that if she waited long enough, if she behaved perfectly, you might let it pass without incident. It was wishful thinking, and you could see in her eyes that she already knew the truth.

It was late one evening, the kind of night where the house seemed to hum with a stillness that amplified every creak, every shift in the air. You stepped through the door, the long day weighing on your shoulders, your muscles tight with tension. The faint scent of Natty’s perfume greeted you before the soft shuffle of her footsteps reached your ears. She appeared in the entryway, her eyes bright but edged with a nervous energy that seemed to hover around her like a second skin.

Her smile was warm but hesitant, her hands clasped in front of her as if holding herself in place. She moved closer, her fingers brushing lightly against your arm as she reached for your coat. “Welcome home,” she murmured, her voice quieter than usual, almost cautious.

You nodded, a soft grunt of acknowledgment as you shrugged off your coat. The day’s weight still clung to you, the dull ache in your chest begging for rest. Before you could fully step past her, she moved again, her hand resting lightly on your chest. Then her lips brushed yours.

The kiss started soft, tentative—a whisper of warmth against the chill of the day. Her hands stayed light, one on your chest, the other grazing your shoulder, her body leaning in closer. For a moment, you let her, the subtle press of her mouth drawing you into the moment. She tasted faintly of mint, her lips warm and pliant as the kiss deepened.

She didn’t stop there. Her movements grew bolder, her body pressing flush against yours as her hands began to move. They trailed down to the edges of your collar, her fingertips brushing along your neck before drifting to the first button of your shirt. Her lips parted slightly, her breath mingling with yours, hot and heavy with quiet desperation. The faintest whimper escaped her throat as she tilted her head, pressing harder into the kiss, pouring everything into it.

You let her guide you toward the couch, her steps slow but deliberate. The kiss stayed connected, her lips never leaving yours as she coaxed you backward until the edge of the cushions met the back of your legs. You sank down, and she followed, her knees sliding on either side of your lap as she straddled you. Her hands moved more urgently now, gripping your shirt, her nails scraping lightly against the fabric as her hips shifted just enough to press her body closer.

She kissed you like she was unraveling, her fingers trembling slightly as she worked on the buttons of your shirt. Her breath came faster, her chest rising and falling against yours. For her, the rest of the world had disappeared—there was only you, the connection between you, and the fleeting hope that she could escape the boundaries you had set. Her need was palpable, her body leaning into yours with a quiet desperation that seemed to grow stronger with every passing second.

Then she reached for the hem of her shirt, her fingers curling around the loose fabric and tugging it upward slightly, just enough to reveal a sliver of smooth skin. The motion was subtle, almost hesitant, but it carried with it an unspoken plea. It wasn’t calculated—just instinct, a desperate attempt to bridge the gap between the quiet tension and the simmering need she felt.

And just like that, the moment shifted.

You pulled back, your movement deliberate, breaking the kiss with a soft, almost imperceptible sound. Her breath caught audibly, her lips hovering in the space where yours had been, the warmth of you replaced by a cool absence that felt more striking than any words you could have spoken.

Her eyes fluttered open, and her expression flickered with confusion. Slowly, realization dawned, her cheeks flushing as she started to pull back further. Before she could, you pressed a hand gently to her shoulder—not harsh, but firm enough to still her completely.

“You’re still on punishment,” you said, your tone calm and measured, like a quiet storm.

Her lips parted slightly, a faint sound escaping them, almost like an aborted protest. Her gaze darted downward, her fingers loosening their hold on your shirt. “I wasn’t—” she started, her voice faltering. “I just thought—maybe if…”

You raised an eyebrow, waiting as her words trailed off into nothing. The faint blush on her cheeks deepened, spreading to her neck, her hands falling limply into her lap. She took a deep breath, clearly trying to steady herself. “I didn’t mean to push,” she murmured, her voice quieter now.

Your hand left her shoulder, and you leaned back slightly, studying her. The tension in her posture betrayed her unease, though she stayed seated in your lap, her legs tucked to either side of you. Her lips pressed together faintly, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.

“You thought what?” you asked after a beat, your voice calm but edged with quiet authority. “That I’d just forget the boundaries I’ve set? That I’d let this slide?”

Her shoulders slumped slightly, her breathing uneven. “No,” she admitted softly. “I just thought… I don’t know. I thought maybe you’d…” She didn’t finish the sentence, her words dissolving into silence.

You watched her carefully, the weight of your gaze enough to keep her still. After a moment, you guided her gently off your lap. She slid to the floor without resistance, her knees brushing the rug as she sank down in front of you. Her head dipped slightly, her posture shrinking as the realization of her overstep settled in.

“I’m sorry,” she said finally, her voice almost too quiet to hear.

You stood, the couch creaking softly as you rose. Without another word, you stepped past her, your movements calm and deliberate. The sound of your footsteps faded as you left her kneeling there, the room suddenly feeling much emptier than before.

She didn’t move, her knees rooted to the spot, her hands resting limply in her lap. Her lips still tingled faintly from the kiss, a reminder of what had been taken away. Even as she stared at the space where you’d been, she couldn’t shake the growing realization: this wasn’t just a punishment. It was a reminder that, no matter what she thought she wanted, you were still in control.

-----

The days stretched into weeks, each one blurring into the next as Natty’s punishment continued. She tried to keep herself busy, focusing on tasks that didn’t need doing—organizing drawers, folding laundry that didn’t need folding—but it wasn’t long before the edges of her composure began to fray. The need was slow, insidious, creeping into her thoughts in moments of stillness until it was all-consuming.

Her usual spark had dulled, replaced by a quiet, simmering tension that followed her everywhere. She hovered near you constantly, her movements soft but deliberate, as though being close to you might ease the ache inside her. Every time you passed, her breath caught, and her gaze lingered on you, her wide eyes betraying the growing desperation she tried so hard to keep hidden.

You caught her once standing in the doorway, her hand resting against the frame as she watched you from a distance. When your eyes met, she flushed, her lips parting as though to say something, but no words came. Instead, she turned away quickly, her shoulders tight with frustration, the sound of her retreating footsteps echoing faintly through the quiet house.

But it wasn’t just the way she lingered. Her body betrayed her in other ways. The subtle tremor in her hands when she handed you your coffee, the way her fingers brushed against yours just a little too long, the way she bit her lip whenever you were close. She moved with an air of quiet submission, her every action laced with the unspoken hope that her obedience might draw you closer, might break the walls of the punishment you’d set.

You didn’t respond. You stayed composed, calm, offering no indication that you even noticed. And it drove her mad.

One evening, you stepped into the bedroom to find Natty perched on the edge of the bed. Her body was tense, shoulders hunched forward as though trying to fold into herself. In her hands, she clutched one of your shirts. The loose fabric was balled tightly, her knuckles whitening from the grip. She raised it to her face, burying her nose in it as her eyes fluttered closed. Her chest rose and fell in uneven, trembling breaths, the motion betraying her quiet desperation.

As she inhaled deeply, the faintest of shudders coursed through her body. The scent was faint but unmistakable—yours. It seemed to wrap around her, filling her senses with a comfort that only deepened the ache inside her. Her fingers curled tighter around the shirt, her grip almost possessive, as though letting go would sever her last tether to reality.

Her mind was a swirl of emotion. The warmth of your scent grounded her, but it also made her keenly aware of how much she missed you, how much she craved what she’d been denied. The ache in her chest spread downward, settling low in her belly, where it twisted and coiled into something almost unbearable. She didn’t know if the shirt soothed her or made the longing worse. All she knew was that she couldn’t stop herself.

Her lips parted slightly, a soft, shaky exhale escaping as she took another deep breath. The blush on her cheeks deepened, spreading to her neck and ears, as her thoughts spiraled. She hated how much she needed this—how much she needed you. The vulnerability stung, but she couldn’t let go, couldn’t stop herself from clinging to the one thing that made her feel closer to you.

“Natty.”

Your voice cut through the quiet like a blade, sharp and firm. Her head snapped up instantly, her wide eyes locking onto yours. The guilt hit her like a wave, and her hands jerked as though the shirt had suddenly burned her. It slipped from her fingers, falling to her lap, but the stain of her actions remained etched across her flushed features.

“I… I wasn’t—” she stammered, her voice cracking as she scrambled to her feet. Her hands fumbled at the fabric in her lap, twisting it nervously as her gaze darted to the floor. The crimson in her cheeks deepened, and her breathing turned uneven, a telltale sign of the storm raging inside her.

You didn’t move, your calm, steady presence only intensifying her discomfort. You didn’t need to say anything else. The silence pressed down on her, heavy and suffocating. She bit her lip, her shoulders slumping as she lowered her head in submission. The weight of your authority hung in the air, undeniable and absolute, until it crushed what little resolve she had left.

For the rest of the week, the cracks in her composure deepened. She lingered near you constantly, finding excuses to hover in your space. When you moved from one room to another, she followed quietly, her steps soft but deliberate. She never said much, but her presence was loud enough. When you passed her, her hand would brush against you, just lightly, as though testing your reaction. When you stood still for too long, she drifted closer, her breath hitching every time you turned in her direction.

Her need became a part of everything she did. The way her eyes flicked toward you incessantly, searching for any sign of indulgence. The subtle way her body leaned toward yours instinctively, drawn by a gravitational pull she couldn’t fight. She stopped trying to hide it—her longing was written into every motion, every glance, every trembling breath.

By the second week, it consumed her completely. Her confidence crumbled under the weight of her desperation, leaving her raw and exposed. Even her voice, when she dared to speak, carried the faintest quaver, as though each word threatened to betray her. The ache was no longer confined to moments of stillness; it was a constant presence, burning beneath her skin, coiling low in her belly, and leaving her trembling.

-----

Natty sat at home one day, scrolling aimlessly through her phone, trying to distract herself from the relentless need that had consumed her for weeks. Her body felt like a tightly coiled spring, every small movement amplifying the ache that lingered low in her belly. The sound of her phone buzzing startled her, and she glanced at the screen.

"Bedroom by the time I’m home. Naked."

The simplicity of the message made her heart race. Her fingers gripped the phone tightly as she reread the words, the weight of your command settling over her like a heavy blanket. Her breath hitched, and a nervous tremor coursed through her. She didn’t even need to think—her body moved on instinct.

She stood quickly, her hands trembling as she began to undress. Each piece of clothing she removed felt like shedding a layer of protection, leaving her vulnerable and exposed. The cool air of the house kissed her bare skin, sending a shiver up her spine. By the time she reached the bed, her heart was pounding so loudly she could hear it in her ears.

Kneeling, she positioned herself carefully, her body already quivering with a mix of nervous anticipation and lingering need. She rested on all fours, her breathing uneven, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she waited. The silence of the house felt deafening, the seconds stretching into eternity. She couldn’t help the thoughts that raced through her mind: Would this be her release? Would you finally touch her, grant her the relief she craved? Or would this be another lesson in patience, another test of her endurance?

The sound of the front door opening made her freeze. Her breath caught, her body tensing as she listened to your deliberate movements. The faint rustle of your belongings being set down sent a thrill through her, each noise heightening her anticipation. She stayed perfectly still, her hands gripping the sheets lightly, her heart threatening to leap from her chest.

When your footsteps finally approached the bedroom, she felt the weight of your presence before you even spoke. The door opened, and your gaze swept over her. She didn’t dare lift her head, but she felt the heat of your eyes on her bare skin. Her body trembled under your scrutiny, the vulnerability making her both anxious and exhilarated.

“Stand up,” your voice broke the silence, calm but commanding.

She rose immediately, though her legs wobbled slightly as she obeyed. She felt utterly exposed under your watchful eyes, her arms twitching as though to cover herself, but she stopped. Your steady gaze and the faint shake of your head froze her in place. Her arms dropped to her sides, her fingers trembling as she fought the urge to shield herself.

“Bathroom,” you instructed, your tone firm and leaving no room for argument. “Stay still.”

Natty moved quickly, her bare feet making no sound as she positioned herself in the bathroom doorway. Her body was taut with nervous energy, her fingers twitching slightly at her sides as she worked to follow your command. Her breathing was already shallow, her lips parted, and her wide eyes tracked your every move.

You began to undress deliberately, unhurried, letting her watch. The soft rustle of fabric filled the room as you slid your shirt from your shoulders, revealing the defined lines of your chest. Her gaze clung to you, her lips pressing together as her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths. When your hands moved to your belt, her eyes followed like a magnet, locking onto the motion with an intensity that sent a faint flush across her cheeks.

As you stepped out of your pants, she froze completely. Her gaze darted lower, landing on the growing outline beneath your boxers, and her breath caught audibly. She tried to pull her eyes away, but they kept flicking back, lingering with a desperation she could no longer hide. It was as though everything else in the room had vanished, her world narrowing to just you—your movements, your body, and the aching need she felt burning inside her.

You stepped into the shower without a word, the sound of water cascading over your skin breaking the silence. The steam began to fill the room, curling around her, but her attention never wavered. The glass doors left nothing to the imagination, and her eyes locked onto you again, trailing down your chest to your stomach, and then lower.

Her breathing grew heavier, each rise and fall of her chest more pronounced as her thighs shifted subtly. She pressed them together, a faint, instinctive movement that she clearly hoped would go unnoticed. But it didn’t. You saw every motion, every tremor that betrayed how much effort it took for her to stand still.

“Still,” you said, your voice firm but calm, cutting through the thick haze of her longing.

Her legs froze immediately, though her body trembled slightly with the strain of holding herself back. Her gaze flicked up to your face briefly, an almost guilty glance, before dropping again. It didn’t take long for her eyes to return to the same place, fixed on the growing evidence of your arousal.

The effort to control herself was evident in every line of her frame. Her hands flexed at her sides, her fingers curling and uncurling as though fighting the urge to reach out. Her lips parted again, a faint, shaky exhale escaping as her gaze remained fixed, unable to look away.

When you turned slightly, letting the water run down your back, she shifted almost imperceptibly. Her chest rose and fell quicker now, her thighs pressing together again, the motion more noticeable this time. The faintest glisten of sweat began to form on her skin, mixing with the steam around her, as though her body were reacting to a heat only she could feel.

After finishing your shower, you stepped out, wrapping a towel loosely around your waist. Her eyes followed the motion, flicking downward for just a second too long. When you reached for another towel to dry your hair, her gaze returned, locking onto the outline beneath the fabric.

Her breathing hitched audibly, and she swallowed hard, her throat working visibly. She wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore—her need radiated off her in waves, the desperation plain in the way her lips pressed together, her body trembling with restraint.

“Back to the bed,” you said, your tone steady.

She turned quickly, her body moving as though it could barely keep up with the frantic pace of her mind. Every step toward the bedroom echoed with the quiet desperation she could no longer hide. As she lay back on the bed, her movements were both eager and hesitant, her hands twitching at her sides as though fighting the urge to reach out and pull you closer. Her breathing was shallow, each inhale trembling slightly, her chest rising and falling in uneven rhythms.

When you joined her, her heart raced, the anticipation almost unbearable. Was this it? Had her obedience finally earned her a reprieve? The thought flickered through her mind like a fragile spark, and she clung to it desperately. Maybe this is his way of letting me off early, she thought. Maybe I’ve been good enough.

You didn’t speak, but the weight of your gaze on her was intoxicating. Her body reacted instinctively, her legs parting slightly as you shifted closer. When your hand started at her knee, trailing upward along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, her breath hitched audibly. Her thighs parted further, almost of their own accord, inviting your touch. Her skin quivered beneath your fingers, every nerve ending coming alive as you moved deliberately, your strokes maddeningly slow and controlled.

She bit her lip, a soft whine escaping her as her hips shifted slightly toward your hand, seeking more. Her need was evident now, radiating off her in waves, but the moment her movement betrayed her impatience, you stopped. Your eyes narrowed, and the sternness in your gaze was enough to freeze her in place.

“Good girl,” you murmured, your voice low and even.

The praise sent a visible shiver through her. Her lips parted, a soft gasp escaping as her body reacted involuntarily. A faint sheen of wetness betrayed her growing arousal, glistening faintly in the dim light of the room. The ache inside her deepened, spreading like fire through her veins, and the thought of finally being allowed to release burned brighter in her mind.

Your fingers trailed closer, brushing along the edge of her folds with maddening precision. You never gave her exactly what she needed, staying just millimeters away, the teasing strokes pushing her closer to the edge without letting her fall. Her breaths grew shallow, her chest heaving as her back arched slightly off the bed.

She whimpered, the sound barely audible but filled with a desperation that was impossible to ignore. Her slickness spread, catching the light, her body leaking uncontrollably as her arousal built to a fever pitch.

And then, just as your fingers hovered over the place where her need was most concentrated, you pulled away.

The gasp that escaped her was almost a sob. Her hips jerked upward reflexively, as though her body couldn’t accept the sudden absence of your touch. Her eyes snapped open, wide and pleading, the longing in them unrestrained. She looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered, her lips trembling as though she might beg. But the sternness in your gaze silenced whatever words she might have been about to say.

“Go to sleep,” you said, your voice calm and final.

Her heart sank, the weight of your command hitting her like a tidal wave. She stared at you for a long moment, her body frozen, her lips parting slightly as though to protest. But she caught herself, her hands curling into fists at her sides as she nodded shakily. Slowly, she sank back against the mattress, her body sinking into the sheets as though the effort to fight was too much.

You lay down beside her, the bed shifting slightly under your weight. The warmth of your body was close enough to feel but impossibly far from the relief she craved. Her breathing was uneven, her chest rising and falling in trembling rhythms as her legs shifted restlessly beneath the sheets. She pressed her thighs together, her hips rocking slightly in a futile attempt to ease the tension that burned through her like wildfire.

Her eyes fluttered closed, though she knew sleep would be impossible. Her body pulsed with frustration, every nerve ending alight with unfulfilled desire. She could still feel the ghost of your touch on her skin, the teasing brush of your fingers that had come so maddeningly close.

Beside her, you remained composed, your breathing calm, your presence steady and unattainable. The quiet was oppressive, the tension between you palpable as the minutes stretched into hours.

Her mind spiraled as reality sank in—this wasn’t relief. It wasn’t a reprieve. It was another lesson in control, another reminder of who held the power. And as her body burned with the ache of denial, the truth became inescapable: tonight wouldn’t bring her release. It would only deepen the longing that consumed her.

-----

The final week of November arrived, and Natty was barely holding it together. The days had grown heavier, the minutes stretching into what felt like hours as her body and mind simmered with unrelenting tension. The month-long denial had pushed her to her limits, leaving her restless and sensitive to every touch, every glance, every moment in your presence. This wasn’t just a punishment—it was a slow unraveling, and the last week felt like it might break her entirely.

By mid-afternoon, as she paced through the kitchen for the third time that day, her phone buzzed on the counter, cutting through the quiet. She grabbed it quickly, her heart giving a small jolt as she saw the group chat lighting up.

“Eclipse tonight! Drinks on me. You’re coming, right?” Belle’s message was followed by a string of emojis, the energy infectious even through the screen. Natty’s gaze lingered on the words as more messages poured in.

“You better not flake again, Natty!” Julie added with a laughing emoji.

“I’m wearing heels for the first time in a year for this. Be there. No excuses!” chimed Haneul.

The idea of going out with her friends, laughing and dancing the night away, was tempting. For a brief moment, she imagined herself letting loose, the music drowning out her thoughts, her body moving freely in the dim lights of the club. It sounded perfect—exactly what she needed.

And yet, something held her back.

Her gaze lifted from the phone to the living room, where you sat on the couch, scrolling through your phone with your usual calm demeanor. She watched you for a moment, her chest tightening with a strange sense of unease. The thought of leaving the house, of being away from you, felt heavier than it should have. It wasn’t fear, exactly—more like a quiet, unshakable pull to stay near you, as though the distance would only amplify the ache she already felt.

Her phone buzzed again, breaking her thoughts. “Natty, don’t make me beg! 😘 Eclipse is calling your name!” Belle was relentless, as always.

Natty paced the kitchen, her fingers tightening around her phone as her thoughts churned. Her friends wouldn’t understand. They’d tell her she was overthinking it, that a night out was exactly what she needed. But they didn’t know what she was going through. They didn’t know how the last few weeks had left her raw and vulnerable, every nerve in her body on edge. And they didn’t understand the quiet, powerful pull that kept her close to you.

Summoning her courage, she stepped into the living room. “My friends want me to go out,” she said, her voice soft and uncertain.

You looked up briefly, meeting her gaze with an easy calm. “Sure,” you replied, your tone steady. “Go if you want.”

The simplicity of your answer caught her off guard. Her heart skipped a beat, her lips parting in surprise. She had expected… something else. Guidance, hesitation, maybe even a hint of disapproval. Instead, your response was so casual, so sincere, it left her more conflicted than ever.

“You’re… okay with it?” she asked, her tone cautious.

“Of course,” you said, your expression neutral. “If you want to go, you should.”

Natty blinked, caught between disbelief and confusion. Her gaze searched your face, looking for any trace of hesitation, but found none. The ease of your answer left her more conflicted than before, and a strange pang of guilt settled in her chest.

“Really? You don’t mind?” she pressed, her voice quieter now, almost reluctant.

You raised an eyebrow, amused by her persistence. “I don’t mind, Natty. It’s your decision.”

She nodded slowly, retreating a few steps to sit on the chair across from you. Her phone buzzed again, her friends filling the group chat with plans for the night. Outfits, drinks, excitement—it was all there, pulling her in. Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard, typing out a reply only to erase it again.

She glanced back at you. “You’re… really okay with me going?” she asked again, her voice even softer this time.

You met her gaze evenly. “I said I was. It’s your call, Natty.”

The finality in your words settled over her like a weight. The decision was hers—fully, completely hers—and yet the idea of leaving felt wrong. Her chest tightened, her stomach knotting with a mix of frustration and longing she couldn’t quite place.

With a deep breath, she typed: “Can’t make it, sorry.”

Her finger hovered over the send button, the decision catching in her chest for just a moment before she pressed it. The message disappeared into the chat, and a strange mix of relief and frustration flooded her.

When she looked back at you, she couldn’t help but ask one last time, “You’re really not upset?”

You glanced at her, offering a faint, reassuring smile. “Not at all,” you said simply, returning your attention to your phone.

The sincerity in your tone surprised her, and she sank back into the chair, her phone now dark in her hand. The quiet buzz of the house resumed, but her mind was still spinning. She had made the decision herself—without pressure, without guidance—and as unsettling as that was, a small part of her felt… content.

The thought of staying near you, of not letting that distance grow, settled warmly in her chest. And as she sat there, the sound of your steady breathing grounding her, she knew she’d made the choice she truly wanted.

-----

The evening had settled in, darkness blanketing the world outside as the soft glow of a table lamp cast warm light across the living room. The house was quiet, a serene contrast to the distant hum of the night’s activity beyond the walls. You sat on the couch, lazily flipping through channels, the faint murmur of the television filling the stillness. The simplicity of the moment was grounding, a calm that belied the tension that had simmered between you and Natty over the past weeks.

She lingered in the doorway, hesitant but drawn to you, her phone still clutched tightly in her hand. She hadn’t left the house since your conversation, her friends’ messages still buzzing occasionally in the background, unanswered. Finally, gathering her courage, she stepped into the room, her footsteps soft against the hardwood.

You glanced up from the remote, your eyes meeting hers. Her expression was conflicted, a mix of vulnerability and determination. “Why didn’t you go with your friends?” you asked, your tone calm but curious.

She hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “I…” Her voice faltered for a moment before she took a deep breath. “I just… didn’t feel like going,” she said, though the truth was far more layered. Her eyes darted away, betraying the nerves she tried to suppress.

Your gaze stayed steady, unyielding, as you leaned back slightly. “That’s not an answer, Natty,” you said, your voice firm but not unkind. “Tell me the truth.”

Her shoulders stiffened for a moment before she relented, her gaze flickering back to yours. “I wanted to stay here,” she admitted softly, her cheeks warming with a faint blush. “With you.”

The simplicity of her words hung in the air, heavy and unspoken until now. For a moment, you didn’t respond, letting the weight of her confession linger. Then, slowly, the faintest smile curved your lips, a warm, genuine expression that made her shoulders relax slightly.

“Come here,” you said, your voice steady but soft, a quiet command that carried more weight than the words alone. “Sit on my lap.”

Natty appeared almost immediately, her movements automatic, her body responding before her mind could process. She climbed onto your lap, her thighs straddling yours as she settled against you. The heat of her body radiated through her clothes, her breathing already shallow as your hands found her waist, grounding her.

Your hands didn’t linger long. They slid upward, brushing over the curve of her chest, and she gasped softly, her back arching slightly into your touch. There was no hesitation in the way you began to knead her, your fingers flexing firmly through the thin fabric of her shirt. She let out a soft whimper, her body reacting to every squeeze, her head tilting forward as though offering herself completely.

“Take it off,” you murmured, your voice low but firm.

Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head in one smooth motion. She discarded it to the floor, her chest now bare, rising and falling with her quickened breaths. The faint flush across her skin deepened as your eyes roamed over her, taking in every inch of her exposed form.

Your hands moved back to her now-bare chest, your palms warm against her skin as you groped her fully. She gasped again, louder this time, the sound breaking into a soft moan as your thumbs brushed over the sensitive peaks of her nipples. Her hips shifted instinctively against you, the motion subtle but telling, her body betraying the growing wetness between her legs.

Your lips followed your hands, pressing softly against her neck before trailing lower. The faint scent of her skin filled your senses, sweet and intoxicating as you kissed along her collarbone. She tilted her head back, giving you full access, her body trembling as your mouth continued its slow descent.

When your lips finally closed around one of her nipples, her reaction was immediate. She let out a sharp gasp, her fingers digging into your shoulders as her back arched. You alternated between gentle licks and firmer pressure, your tongue swirling in deliberate, teasing circles. Your other hand remained on her chest, squeezing and kneading with steady precision, while your thumb flicked against the neglected peak.

Her breathing grew erratic, her soft gasps turning into moans as her head tilted forward again, her lips brushing against your ear as she whimpered. “Please…” The word was barely audible, trembling with desperation as her body pressed closer to yours.

You didn’t respond. Instead, you bit down lightly, your teeth grazing against her nipple before soothing the skin with your tongue. Her whole body jolted, her thighs clenching around your lap as another moan escaped her lips. Your free hand slid lower, gripping her hip firmly to keep her steady as her movements grew more frantic.

The wetness between her legs became impossible to ignore, the faint sound of her arousal audible as her hips shifted against you. She was trembling now, completely lost in the moment, her body responding instinctively to every touch, every kiss, every firm squeeze of your hands.

“God,” she whimpered, her voice breaking as her nails raked lightly against your shoulders. “I can’t—”

“Shhh,” you murmured against her skin, your voice low and commanding. “You can.”

Your mouth returned to her chest, alternating between each peak, your tongue and teeth teasing her with perfect precision. She was leaking now, her arousal spreading across the thin fabric of her panties, soaking through to the point where you could feel the dampness against your lap.

Just as she seemed ready to tip over the edge, her hips pressing harder against you, her chest arching fully into your mouth, you pulled back.

The sudden absence of your touch left her gasping, her eyes snapping open in disbelief. Her lips parted, trembling as though she might beg, but the look in your eyes stopped her. Her body stilled, though her thighs continued to tremble, the tension coiling tighter inside her with every second of denial.

You leaned back into the couch, a faint smirk playing on your lips as you let your gaze linger on her flushed skin, the evidence of her arousal impossible to miss.

“You know what I want.” you said, your voice calm but edged with quiet authority.

Her breath hitched audibly, her wide, hazy eyes meeting yours. There was no hesitation now. She shifted off your lap, her hands trembling slightly as they moved to your shorts. Her fingers hooked into the waistband, pulling them down slowly, her lips parting as her focus shifted entirely to you.

As the fabric slid away, revealing the full length of you, Natty's breath hitched audibly. Her gaze locked on you, her wide eyes taking in every inch with unabashed admiration. No matter how many times she saw you like this, she could never fully get over it—the sheer size, the thickness, the way it was always all for her. Her tongue darted out reflexively, wetting her lips as though in anticipation, her chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths.

The faint musk of your arousal filled the air, heady and intoxicating, and she inhaled deeply, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment. Her thighs pressed together, an unconscious response to the ache that flared inside her. When her eyes opened again, they were darker, her pupils blown wide with longing, her lips trembling slightly as she leaned closer.

Her fingers hovered hesitantly before curling around your base, the warmth of her touch sending a faint tremor through her own body. She brought her face closer, her nose brushing lightly against you as she took in your scent again, the rawness of it making her exhale shakily. It consumed her thoughts, every nerve ending alight as the need within her grew unbearable.

For a moment, she lingered there, caught in the haze of her desire, her tongue hovering just above you. Her nails bit softly into your thigh as her other hand rose to her chest, cupping the soft weight of her breast. Then, as though steeling herself, she straightened slightly, her fingers squeezing her softness as she pressed her chest together.

Tilting her head, she let a long string of spit fall onto your shaft, the warm slickness trailing down slowly. Her movements were deliberate, unhurried, each moment stretching with intent as her hands guided her breasts to encase you. The soft, pliant warmth of her skin enveloped your length, her grip firm but yielding as she began to move.

Up and down, her chest stroked along you in a smooth, rhythmic motion, the slickness making every movement glide effortlessly. Her breaths grew heavier, her lips parting as a faint sheen of sweat formed on her forehead. Glancing up, she caught your gaze, her expression a mix of eagerness and awe.

You exhaled deeply, the faintest hint of a groan escaping your lips, and the sound sent a shiver rippling through her. The reaction was electric—Natty’s pace quickened, her movements more determined as her confidence grew. She pressed her breast more firmly against you, adjusting her angle slightly, the friction amplifying the sensations with every pass of her soft skin.

Each brush of her curves against your length elicited a flicker of pleasure across your face, and the sight of it spurred her on. The faint flush that painted her cheeks deepened as her own arousal grew with each passing second. She could feel the dampness between her thighs spreading, the sticky warmth soaking her panties, making the fabric cling to her skin uncomfortably. Her thighs pressed together instinctively, seeking relief she couldn’t allow herself, but she didn’t stop. She wouldn’t. This was for you.

Leaning lower, she brought her face closer, her warm breath ghosting across your tip. Her lips brushed against you, feather-light, a teasing touch that made her breath hitch. For a brief moment, she hovered there, as if savoring the anticipation, before parting her lips and taking the head into her mouth. Her tongue flicked out, circling in slow, deliberate movements that sent jolts of sensation through you. All the while, her chest continued its rhythmic motion, enveloping you in warmth and softness.

Her lips worked in tandem with her breasts, creating an intoxicating combination of sensations. The wet heat of her mouth, the slick pressure of her curves, the eager swirl of her tongue—it was almost overwhelming. Her pace grew more fervent, the urgency in her actions reflecting your mounting tension. She could feel your body responding, the slight tensing of your thighs beneath her hands, the subtle shift in your breathing as it became uneven.

Her own breathing quickened, her moans muffled around your shaft as her arousal reached a fever pitch. Each motion, each sound you made, fueled her further, her movements becoming bolder. She pushed herself harder, faster, the rhythm of her chest and the pressure of her lips in perfect sync. Her thighs quivered, her body trembling with the intensity of the moment.

You groaned deeply, the sound low and primal, vibrating through the air as your hips bucked slightly in response to her movements. Your hands gripped the couch tightly, the pleasure cresting as your breathing turned ragged. “I’m cumming,” you growled, your voice thick with urgency, each word a raw admission of the overwhelming sensation.

Natty’s eyes flicked up to you briefly, her pupils blown wide as she heard the words. A soft, needy whimper escaped her lips, her movements quickening as if she wanted to savor every moment of your release. Her arousal was palpable now, radiating off her in waves. She could feel the wetness between her thighs pooling, soaking through the thin fabric of her panties as the ache inside her reached a fever pitch.

Your body tensed, and the first thick rope of warmth hit her face, splashing across her cheeks and lips. She gasped softly, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment as the sensation registered. Her lips parted, and her breath hitched audibly, her chest rising and falling as the heat of it spread across her skin.

The next wave followed, coating her chest in hot streaks that dripped slowly downward. The sheer amount startled her, her hands faltering momentarily as she adjusted, her fingers instinctively brushing through the mess. Her body reacted instinctively, her thighs pressing together as another involuntary wave of arousal coursed through her. The heat radiating from her own skin was unbearable, her breath shaky as she let out another quiet, trembling moan.

Her chest glistened in the dim light, streaks of your release tracing down to her stomach. The sticky warmth clung to her skin, vivid and undeniable, a testament to how much you had been saving up for her. She trembled under the weight of the moment, her lips parting as she whispered faintly, “Oh my God…” Her voice was soft, filled with a mix of awe and desperation, her gaze dropping to the glistening mess on her chest.

Her hands trembled as they moved, brushing lightly over her curves, smearing the sticky remnants across her skin. The sight only heightened the ache inside her, her thighs quivering as she shifted slightly, her soaked panties clinging to her skin. The desperate need for relief surged again, her body reacting as if the mere act of pleasing you had amplified her own longing tenfold.

You leaned back into the couch, your breathing heavy but steadying as you watched her. A faint smirk played at the corner of your lips, your eyes taking in the sight of her—kneeling before you, her chest heaving, her skin glistening with evidence of your release. She looked wrecked, raw, and utterly yours.

“Clean yourself up,” you said finally, your voice calm but carrying a quiet authority that sent another shiver down her spine.

Her gaze flicked downward, her lips parting slightly as she took in the sight of herself. Thick streaks of your release marked her chest and face, the warmth of it clinging to her skin like a brand. Her hands trembled as they moved upward, her fingertips brushing against her cheek where the first streaks had landed. She paused for a heartbeat, her breath catching in her throat as her fingers lingered.

Then, with deliberate intent, she brought her fingers to her lips. The movement was slow, almost reverent, her eyes fluttering closed as she slipped them into her mouth. Her tongue swirled around each digit, savoring the taste, rich and unmistakable. A soft, audible gulp followed as she swallowed, her breath hitching as the act only deepened the simmering heat coursing through her.

Her hands moved lower, cupping her chest, her fingers gliding over the slickness streaked across her skin. The warmth was still there, a visceral reminder of your dominance. She leaned forward slightly, her breath shallow and uneven as she began to clean herself. Her fingers gathered the remnants, smearing it slightly before bringing it to her lips again. Her movements were unhurried, each touch deliberate, each taste sending a shiver down her spine.

She shifted slightly, lifting one breast toward her mouth. Her tongue darted out, tentative at first, lapping at the streaks she couldn’t reach with her fingers. Her lips closed around the soft curve, sucking gently as she worked to clean every inch of her skin. Her breaths were audible now, short and trembling, her chest heaving as she moved to the other side.

The wet sounds of her tongue and lips filled the room, mingling with the faint rustle of her shifting body. She was methodical, thorough, her cheeks flushed deeper with every motion. The room seemed smaller, hotter, the air thick with the lingering scent of arousal. The tension between you remained palpable, her body trembling with unspent need even as she finished her task.

When she finally straightened, her lips glistened faintly, and her chest was free of the sticky evidence of your climax. Yet the dampness clinging to her inner thighs betrayed her state. The act of cleaning herself had only deepened the ache inside her, the heat between her legs an all-consuming pulse that refused to be ignored.

Her wide eyes flicked up to meet yours briefly, filled with a mix of uncertainty and raw desire, before dropping again. She seemed unable to hold your gaze for long, the intensity too much to bear. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, her fingers twisting together as her breaths remained shallow, her body visibly trembling with need.

She stayed kneeling before you, the soft rise and fall of her chest the only motion. The memory of your pleasure was fresh on her tongue, the weight of your control pressing down on her, and the unrelenting ache inside her burned hotter than ever. Every second in your presence made it harder to endure, the tension in her body coiling tighter, her submission deepening with every unspoken command.

-----

The final days of her punishment dragged on like an endless stretch of time, every moment heavy with unspoken tension. The stillness between you was almost oppressive, each day blurring into the next as the weight of her denial bore down on her. This was the longest Natty had ever gone without release, and it showed in every aspect of her demeanor. Her once-bright spark had dimmed, replaced by a quiet desperation that lingered in her every move.

The ache inside her had become unbearable, growing from a subtle pulse to an all-encompassing fire that clouded her thoughts. Every touch she remembered, every fleeting moment of closeness, replayed in her mind, driving her mad with longing. Even the faintest brush of your presence—a simple passing glance, the sound of your footsteps—sent a shiver down her spine, her body reacting instinctively despite her attempts to suppress it.

You, as always, maintained your calm and composed demeanor. There was no teasing, no deliberate provocation—just an air of quiet control that seemed to magnify her need. The unrelenting steadiness of your presence was both a source of comfort and torment. You gave her no indication of when her punishment might end, leaving her to stew in the tension, her mind spiraling with thoughts she couldn’t escape.

She couldn’t help herself; she gravitated toward you like a moth drawn to a flame. Wherever you went, she found an excuse to be nearby. She lingered in doorways, her wide eyes fixed on you as if waiting for permission to come closer. When you stood in the kitchen, her presence was a constant shadow, her movements soft and tentative as though afraid to disturb the fragile equilibrium.

One evening, the weight of it all seemed to crash over her. You were preparing dinner, your movements calm and deliberate as the scent of garlic and herbs filled the air. She knelt between your legs, her hands resting lightly on your thighs, her head tilted upward as she gazed at you. The tension in her body was palpable, every muscle tight as if she were holding herself together by sheer force of will.

Her wide eyes locked on yours, filled with an unspoken plea that words couldn’t capture. She didn’t dare speak, but the faint parting of her lips, the quick, uneven rise and fall of her chest, and the way her thighs pressed together betrayed the depth of her need. Her hands trembled slightly, her fingers brushing the fabric of your pants as though drawn by an invisible force.

She didn’t move, didn’t dare break the silence, but her gaze flicked downward for a fleeting moment. Her lips parted just slightly, her breathing shallow as her eyes darted back up to meet yours. Her desperation was written into every movement, her body quivering with the effort of staying still.

You glanced down at her, your calm and deliberate movements uninterrupted. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of your lips, a subtle acknowledgment of her state. Finally, you broke the silence, your voice low and steady. “You can use your mouth.”

Her head snapped up, her eyes wide with disbelief. For a moment, she seemed frozen, her body stiff as the words sank in. Then, her expression shifted, gratitude flooding her features as she whispered, “Really?” Her voice was shaky, as if she didn’t trust her own ears, her lips trembling as she waited for confirmation.

You nodded, giving her permission. “Go ahead.”

Her response was immediate, eager, as though this was the reprieve she had been desperately waiting for. Leaning forward, her hands trembled slightly as they moved to your waistband, carefully freeing you. As your length was revealed, her breath hitched audibly, her lips parting as her gaze fixated on you. Her eyes flickered with a mix of awe and raw hunger, the sight of you sending a fresh wave of arousal coursing through her.

She paused for a moment, her face hovering close. The faint musk of your arousal filled her senses, and she inhaled deeply, her thighs pressing together as a shiver rippled through her. The scent alone seemed to heighten the ache inside her, leaving her trembling with need.

Finally, she leaned in, her lips wrapping around you with deliberate care. Her mouth was warm and soft, her tongue swirling in practiced, eager motions. Her hands braced against your thighs, steadying herself as she began to work. Every movement was filled with purpose, her lips and tongue crafting a rhythm that sent jolts of pleasure through you.

Her motions were a mixture of desperation and precision. She wasn’t just focused on bringing you pleasure—she clung to the act itself, as though the act of pleasing you might somehow soothe her own unrelenting need. Her moans vibrated against you, soft and involuntary, her arousal building with each sound you made in response.

A deep groan escaped your lips, and the sound spurred her on. Her pace quickened, her confidence growing as she adjusted to the rhythm she knew would elicit the strongest response. Her cheeks hollowed with each stroke, her tongue working fervently as her lips slid along your length. The way her eyes flicked up to meet yours, filled with anticipation and longing, only added to the intensity.

Then, without pausing, she shifted lower. Her tongue trailed down to your base, her warm breath ghosting over your skin as she carefully took one of your balls into her mouth, sucking gently. The softness of her lips, combined with the light flicks of her tongue, sent a shiver through you. Her hands stayed busy, one stroking your length in a steady rhythm, the other resting on your thigh for balance.

“Just like that,” you murmured, your voice deep and husky, the words sending a faint flush to her cheeks.

Encouraged, she moved to the other side, giving equal attention, her tongue drawing slow, teasing circles before her lips closed around you. Her strokes on your shaft quickened slightly, her fingers curling tighter as she worked both areas with practiced care. The combination of her warm mouth and eager hands created an overwhelming sensation, pulling low groans from your chest.

Her breaths came heavier now, her arousal bleeding into her movements. The slickness of her fingers against your length was steady and deliberate, the wet sound of her efforts filling the quiet room. Her thighs shifted against the floor, her own body reacting instinctively to the act of pleasing you.

After a time, she released you from her mouth with a soft pop, her tongue trailing back up your length, leaving a wet path in her wake. She returned to your shaft, her lips wrapping around you again as though she couldn’t stay away. She took you deeper this time, her tongue pressed firmly against the underside as she bobbed her head, her hands bracing against your thighs to steady herself. Each motion was fluid, precise, and full of intent.

“Look at you,” you said, your voice low and strained. “So eager. So good with that mouth.”

Her pace quickened at your words, her lips sliding up and down as her tongue swirled over your sensitive tip. The vibrations of her soft moans were almost too much, and you groaned deeply, the sound spurring her on further. Her hands gripped your thighs tighter as she adjusted her rhythm, each movement driving you closer to the edge.

You felt the heat rising, the sensation building to an unbearable peak. “I’m close,” you growled, your voice strained as you placed a firm hand on the back of her head.

She took your words as a command, her efforts becoming almost frantic, her mouth enveloping you deeper as her tongue worked with renewed vigor. The vibrations of her soft moans drove you over the edge. As you climaxed, your hand pressed gently but firmly on the back of her head, ensuring there was no space between you.

The first surge of your release hit the back of her throat directly, her eyes widening as she instinctively swallowed. The warmth and thickness filled her mouth entirely, her lips sealing around you as she took everything you gave her. Each pump sent another rush straight to the back of her throat, leaving no room for travel, her swallowing keeping perfect pace with your release.

Her body trembled beneath you, her own arousal spiking as she felt every pulse of your climax. Her hands gripped your thighs tightly, her nails digging in slightly as she fought to keep herself steady. The act of taking you so completely only amplified her own need, the ache inside her growing unbearable.

When the last wave subsided, she lingered, her tongue moving gently against you as if savoring every moment. Slowly, she pulled back, her lips leaving you with a soft, deliberate motion. She gasped softly, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her face flushed and glistening.

Her lips were swollen, her gaze hazy as she looked up at you, the taste of you still on her tongue. Her hands fell to her lap, trembling as her thighs pressed together tightly, the evidence of her arousal undeniable.

Her gaze flicked downward, taking in the sight of your length slick from her efforts and the faint mess left on her lips. Her thighs pressed together tightly, her need still painfully unresolved. She had thought this would help her, that focusing on your pleasure would somehow soothe the ache building inside her. But she was so wrong.

The act of bringing you to release, of hearing your groans and feeling your tension snap, had only sharpened her own longing. The heat inside her was unbearable, the ache now all-consuming. Her body trembled as her lips tingled with the memory of you, the lingering taste of your release on her tongue making her stomach twist with need.

Sitting back on her heels, her hands trembling slightly, she dared to glance back up at you, searching for something—permission, relief, anything. But your calm, steady gaze only reminded her of the boundaries you’d set. Her stomach tightened as the realization settled over her: she was still denied. Nothing had changed. If anything, the fire inside her burned hotter.

Her lips parted as though to speak, but no words came. She remained kneeling, her chest heaving softly, every nerve in her body alight with unspent desire. Her thighs clenched tighter, but it was no use—the longing inside her wasn’t going anywhere. It had only grown.

-----

The tension in the house reached its peak on the second-to-last evening, the air so heavy it felt alive. The soft glow of the television flickered across the room, its muted sound blending with the quiet hum of the house. You sat on the couch, leaning back comfortably, your posture calm and steady despite the storm of emotions swirling between you and Natty.

She lingered nearby, her presence hesitant but drawn to you like a moth to a flame. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of indecision, she approached. Without a word, she lay across your lap, her head resting on your thigh as she curled into herself slightly. The tension in her body was palpable, her breathing shallow and uneven as though the simple act of being close to you was too much.

Your hand moved to her hair instinctively, your fingers threading through the soft strands in slow, deliberate strokes. The touch was gentle but firm, grounding her even as her thoughts spiraled. She exhaled shakily, her chest rising and falling against your lap in uneven rhythm. For a brief moment, she let herself sink into the comfort of your touch, her eyes fluttering shut as the steady motion soothed her frayed nerves.

But the ache inside her didn’t subside—it only grew sharper. Her thighs shifted restlessly, rubbing together as though seeking some kind of relief. The heat in her body was unbearable, the steady press of need building into a relentless thrum that clouded her thoughts. She bit her lip hard, trying to stifle the whimper rising in her throat, but it was a futile effort. Every stroke of your fingers through her hair, every subtle shift of your body beneath hers, only added fuel to the fire.

Her hands curled into loose fists, her nails digging lightly into her palms as she struggled to hold herself together. But it wasn’t enough. The weight of your control, the quiet calm you exuded, drove her to the brink. Finally, she shifted, her body trembling slightly as she propped herself up, turning to straddle your lap instead.

Her thighs pressed into yours as she settled, her hands clutching your chest for balance. Her head bowed for a moment, her breath hitching audibly as she fought to steady herself. When she finally looked up, her eyes met yours, wide and pleading, heavy with unspoken need. Her gaze dropped almost immediately, lingering on your waist, her lips parting slightly as though drawn by a magnetic force.

For a moment, she said nothing, her body frozen as she stewed in the unbearable tension coursing through her. Her hands tightened their grip on your shirt, her fingers trembling as the storm inside her reached a breaking point.

“You’re almost there,” you said finally, your voice calm but deliberate. The words sliced through the silence like a blade, steady and unrelenting.

Her head snapped up, her wide eyes locking onto yours. Her lips quivered, her body trembling against you as though the weight of your gaze alone might shatter her. “I…” she stammered, her voice breaking. “I don’t know if I can. I don’t know how much longer I can—” She cut herself off with a soft sob, her hands curling tighter into the fabric of your shirt. “Please, I’ll do anything. Anything you want, just… I need you.”

Her voice cracked, and her hips shifted slightly as though searching for even the faintest relief. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, her desperation spilling out in frantic, unfiltered words. “I’ll never lie again. I’ll be better—I promise. Just, please…”

You watched her unravel in your lap, the composure she clung to crumbling entirely. Your hand moved to her hair again, threading your fingers through it as you guided her forehead to rest against yours. “Shhh,” you murmured softly, your voice calm and steady. “You’re so close, Natty. Just a little longer.”

Her sobs quieted slightly, though her body still trembled against you. “I’m trying,” she whimpered, her voice breaking with every word. “I’m really trying, but it’s too much. Please… just this once…”

Her thighs trembled as she pressed herself closer, her body seeking yours like it was the only thing grounding her. She let out another soft sob, burying her face in your shoulder as her hands clutched desperately at your shirt.

You pressed a kiss to her temple, the softness of the gesture making her shiver. “My sweet,” you murmured, your voice low and soothing. “You’re doing so well.”

The praise sent a shudder through her, and she clung to you tighter, her cries softening as she tried to steady herself. “I’ll be good,” she whispered brokenly. “I swear, I’ll do anything. I just—”

“Shhh,” you interrupted, your lips brushing against her cheek in a gentle kiss. “I know, I know it’s hard. But you can do this. Just hold on for me.”

Her shoulders shook as she nodded faintly, her sobs quieting further. “Okay,” she whispered shakily, her voice barely audible. She stayed there, sinking deeper into your embrace, letting your steady presence anchor her even as the ache inside her burned hotter with every second.

Your hand continued to stroke her hair, the motion slow and deliberate, a constant reassurance. Her body trembled against you, the heat radiating from her a tangible reminder of the control you still held. Despite the overwhelming need consuming her, she stayed, her trust in you unwavering as she endured the storm.

-----

Now finally the last day of the month has arrived. Natty woke with a feeling she had never experienced before. Her body trembled as she stretched, but instead of relief, she felt an overwhelming tension in every muscle. A deep, relentless ache settled low in her belly, heavier and sharper than before, as though her body itself was protesting the month-long denial. It wasn’t just an ache—it was an all-encompassing sensation that left her feeling sick and shaky, her stomach tight and twisted. Every nerve felt raw, on edge, and her hypersensitivity made her skin prickle even under the lightest touch of the sheets.

She sat up slowly, her hands gripping the edge of the mattress as her head spun slightly. Her thighs pressed together instinctively, and she let out a soft, shaky breath, the tension inside her almost unbearable. Her stomach ached, a dull, throbbing reminder of how long she’d gone without release. It felt like an emptiness and a fullness at the same time, a contradiction that only heightened her frustration. The presence of the plug, which had remained snug all night, only amplified her torment. She could feel it with every small shift of her body—a teasing, maddening fullness that made her hyper aware of herself.

When she finally stood, her legs felt weak, her movements unsteady. Every step sent a faint jolt through her, the plug pressing deeper with even the slightest motion. It was as if her entire body had become a live wire, sparking with every touch, every shift, every breath. She shivered as she made her way out of the bedroom, her hands clutching the fabric of her oversized shirt as though grounding herself against the storm of sensations.

When she stepped into the living room, the light spilling softly through the windows, she found you lounging on the couch, a steaming cup of coffee in hand. You glanced up at her, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of your lips as your gaze swept over her. “Come here,” you said simply, patting your lap. “Lie down.”

Her cheeks flushed instantly, and she hesitated for only a second before obeying. She settled across your lap, her breaths quickening as your hands began to roam along her back, the pressure firm but soothing. Your touch was unhurried, tracing the curve of her spine, lingering lower until your fingers brushed against the waistband of her shorts. Without a word, you hooked your thumbs into the fabric and pulled them down, the cool air making her shiver as it hit her exposed skin.

A soft gasp escaped her lips as she felt your hand glide over her bare cheeks, the warmth of your palm contrasting against the coolness of the air. Her body betrayed her, a faint glisten of arousal catching the light. You chuckled softly, the sound low and teasing. “Dripping already?” you murmured, giving one cheek a firm squeeze. “You’re really something, Natty.”

Her breath hitched, her body quivering as she buried her face in her arms. Before she could respond, she felt something cool and slick press against her other entrance. Her muscles tensed instinctively, her head snapping up as she stammered, “Wait, what are you—?”

“Shh,” you murmured, your voice calm but commanding as you pressed the small plug in slowly. Her breath hitched audibly, her body jerking forward as the sensation hit her all at once. A soft yelp escaped her lips, her walls clenching reflexively as her thighs trembled.

“Hold it,” you instructed firmly, your hand resting lightly on her back. “You’ll keep it there all day.”

“I—I don’t think I can,” she stammered, her face burning with embarrassment and arousal.

“You can,” you replied, your tone leaving no room for argument. “And you will.”

She whimpered softly, her breaths uneven as she adjusted to the sensation. The fullness teased her relentlessly, and every small movement made her hyper aware of its presence. The ache between her legs grew sharper, more insistent, as if her body was begging for relief that wouldn’t come. Even standing felt like a challenge; the plug shifted slightly with each step, sending ripples of sensation through her core.

The day had barely begun, and yet she already felt as though she was teetering on the edge. The plug amplified everything—every touch, every brush of fabric, every faint movement. She couldn’t escape it, and with every moment that passed, the ache inside her burned hotter, making her tremble with the effort of holding herself together. Midnight felt impossibly far away.

You didn’t let her rest today—not for a single moment. The relentless presence of the plug became a constant torment, every shift of her body driving the fullness deeper, teasing her in ways she couldn’t escape. Throughout the day, you made her bend over to “check” that it was still in place, a smug reminder of your control. Each time, your hand slid along her folds, your fingers brushing lightly against her slick, swollen skin. The wetness clung to you, undeniable evidence of her unrelenting arousal.

Her breaths came in sharp gasps during these moments, her body trembling as she struggled to remain still. The faintest touch sent shivers down her spine, her knees threatening to buckle beneath her. She whimpered softly, the sound involuntary, her thighs quivering as the effort of holding herself together grew increasingly futile.

“You’re holding up well,” you teased after one such inspection, your fingers hovering just close enough to make her whimper again. The sound was high and needy, betraying her desperation. “Though it looks like you’re ready to explode already.”

Her cheeks burned a deep crimson, and she turned her face away, unable to meet your amused gaze. Her thighs pressed tightly together, her body shuddering as she struggled to steady her breathing. The plug teased her with every movement, amplifying her sensitivity to unbearable levels, and the ache between her legs became an all-consuming pulse.

But you weren’t done. Your teasing was deliberate and constant, turning the mundane moments of her day into unrelenting torment. A casual grope of her chest as she walked past made her gasp, her nipples hardening under your touch as a jolt of sensation shot through her. Your hand would slide up her shirt without warning, your fingers brushing against her sensitive peaks, leaving her trembling and breathless.

When she bent down to retrieve something, you delivered sharp smacks to her exposed cheeks, the sound echoing through the room as her hips jolted forward. Each time, the plug shifted slightly, pressing deeper inside her, and she let out a strangled moan, her hands gripping whatever surface was nearest for support.

At one point, while she was bent over cleaning the counter, you delivered a particularly firm smack. The force sent the plug pushing deeper, and the sudden wave of sensation made her cry out softly. Her hands clutched the countertop, her knuckles white as her body trembled uncontrollably. Her breaths came in short, uneven bursts, and her legs quaked as she tried—and failed—to regain her composure.

“Careful,” you murmured, leaning close to her ear. Your voice was laced with amusement, dripping with controlled authority. “I wouldn’t want you to lose control now.”

She shuddered, her head dipping as another soft whimper escaped her lips. Her body burned with arousal, her skin tingling as though every nerve ending had come alive. Every teasing touch, every lingering squeeze of your hand left her trembling, her body responding instantly as though begging for more. She was aware of everything—the brush of fabric against her sensitive skin, the cool air that contrasted with the heat radiating from her core, the relentless presence of the plug that made every movement feel like a deliberate act of torment.

By mid-afternoon, she was a trembling mess. Her breaths were shallow and uneven, her body quaking as she navigated the relentless teasing and the ache that had only grown sharper, hotter, with every passing moment. The fullness of the plug heightened her sensitivity, making even the smallest movements feel exaggerated. A shift of her hips, a brush of her thighs—each one sent jolts of need spiraling through her, leaving her gasping and desperate.

Her arousal radiated off her in waves, the heat between her legs becoming an all-consuming ache. It seeped into every part of her, making her feel like she was on the verge of breaking. Every glance from you, every calculated touch, only made it worse. She could barely think about anything else, her mind entirely consumed by the promise of relief she couldn’t yet have.

The promise of midnight was the only thing grounding her, a beacon at the end of her torment. But as the minutes dragged on and each moment stretched longer than the last, she began to wonder just how much more she could take. The hours ahead loomed like an eternity, and her body burned with the need to finally be free.

-----

Once the final moments were minutes away, Natty was a trembling wreck. She couldn’t muster excitement, couldn’t even speak. The month-long denial had consumed her entirely, leaving her a quivering, needy mess. Every step she took sent faint jolts through her hypersensitive body, her thighs slick with a constant reminder of her arousal. Her mind swirled with one singular thought—relief. Midnight was so close, yet it felt infinitely far away.

You watched her silently as she hovered near you, her chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. The air between you was electric, charged with her desperation and your unshakable calm. Finally, you broke the silence.

“Bedroom,” you said, your voice calm but commanding. “Now.”

She didn’t hesitate. Her trembling hands reached for the hem of her shirt, tugging it over her head in one fluid motion. Her shorts followed, discarded in a heap on the floor, leaving her completely bare before you. There was no need to ask—her eagerness, her desperation, was written across her flushed cheeks and trembling limbs.

Natty lay back on the bed, her legs slightly parted, her body trembling uncontrollably. Every breath she took was shallow and uneven, her body strung tight with anticipation and desperation. Her wide, pleading eyes locked onto yours as you retrieved the wand vibrator from the nightstand, its weight in your hand a promise of what was to come.

“You’ve waited this long,” you murmured, sitting beside her. Your voice was calm, soothing, but carried an unyielding authority. “But understand this—if you cum before midnight, it’s another month.”

Her breath hitched, her body stiffening as the weight of your words sank in. A shudder passed through her, and her lips parted as though to protest, but no sound came. The mere thought of another month was impossible to comprehend. She didn’t even know how she had survived this one. Her stomach churned, and a small, desperate whimper escaped her lips.

“Do you understand, Natty?” you asked, your voice steady but firm.

She nodded quickly, tears welling in her eyes. “Y-yes… I understand.” Her voice cracked, the fear and arousal mingling into a trembling whisper.

With a faint smirk, you picked up the vibrator, letting it press firmly against her swollen clit without turning it on. The weight alone was enough to make her react—a sharp intake of breath followed by a faint whimper as her hips shifted instinctively, seeking more. The glistening slickness between her legs caught the dim light, pooling against the toy and betraying just how close she was to the edge already.

You watched her closely, your calm demeanor a stark contrast to the tremors racking her body. “So needy,” you murmured, your voice low and deliberate. “Leaking onto the sheets, and I haven’t even turned it on.”

Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, her thighs trembling as she tried to press them together only to fail against your positioning. Her hands gripped the sheets tightly, her knuckles white as she fought the overwhelming tension building inside her. “P-please,” she stammered, her voice trembling and barely audible.

“Not yet,” you said, your tone firm but calm. Your gaze flicked briefly to the clock. “It’s not time.”

Her body jerked slightly at the reminder, her thighs quivering as the pressure from the vibrator sent faint pulses of sensation through her. The seconds stretched endlessly, each one feeling like an eternity as she teetered on the precipice. Her breaths grew more frantic, her chest rising and falling with each shallow gasp, her entire body betraying her desperate need.

Without warning, your free hand moved downward, your fingers brushing lightly over the curve of her ass. You hooked a finger under the base of the plug, tugging gently. The sensation elicited a sharp cry from her, her hips bucking against the pressure. Her arousal spilled out even more, a slick warmth pooling between her thighs and glistening against her skin.

Her moans turned into incoherent whimpers as her body trembled violently. “Oh God—” she gasped, her voice cracking as the mix of sensations overwhelmed her.

You brought your finger to the slick mess, scooping some onto your fingertip. With deliberate slowness, you raised it to your mouth, tasting her arousal. The faint hum of approval you let out sent another shiver through her. “So sweet,” you murmured, your voice low and teasing. “And all mine.”

Her body jerked again, her eyes squeezing shut as her hands clawed desperately at the sheets. The combination of sensations—the press of the vibrator, the tug on the plug, and your deliberate tasting of her—pushed her to the very edge.

Finally, the clock hit 11:59. Without a word, you turned the vibrator on, its low hum filling the room.

The moment the vibrator sprang to life, Natty’s body reacted as if it had been struck by lightning. A high-pitched yelp escaped her lips, her hips jerking against the relentless vibration. Tears filled her eyes as she clutched the sheets, her body writhing uncontrollably, her thighs trembling with effort. The first wave of sensation crashed over her, and she wasn’t ready for the intensity. She quivered like a bowstring pulled too tight, every muscle taut, her chest heaving as she struggled to breathe.

“Hold on,” you commanded, your tone calm but firm.

Her sobs came softly at first, as if she were trying to hold them back, but the effort only made them more pitiful. Her lips parted, trembling, and a faint whimper escaped. Her hands clutched the sheets tightly, her nails digging into the fabric as her entire body quaked beneath the relentless assault of the vibrations.

Her thighs pressed together instinctively, but the relentless pressure of the toy against her swollen clit made every movement a torment. Her hips shifted involuntarily, as though her body were trying to escape and chase the sensation at the same time. Her skin glistened with sweat, her face flushed a deep crimson as tears streaked her cheeks. Her breaths came in sharp, uneven gasps, her chest rising and falling as she struggled against the unbearable tension coiling inside her.

You leaned closer, your hand resting gently on her abdomen, your voice a steady anchor. “You’ve made it this far, Natty,” you murmured, your tone soft but resolute. “You’re stronger than you think.”

Her eyes widened as another wave of sensation crashed over her, her sobs growing louder and more frantic. Her body arched off the bed, the vibrations driving her closer to the edge. “I—” she stammered, her voice cracking as she fought to find her words. “I don’t think I can—I can’t do it! I need to cum!”

“A little more, baby,” you replied firmly, your gaze locking onto hers. “Trust me, you can do this.”

Her body convulsed, her hips grinding helplessly against the unyielding vibrator. The wet sounds of her arousal filled the room, mingling with her desperate cries. Her slickness coated the toy, betraying the depth of her need. She whimpered again, shaking her head as tears flowed freely, her thighs trembling violently.

Finally, you extended your hand to her. “Here,” you said softly, offering it like a lifeline. “Hold on to me.”

Her trembling fingers latched onto yours with surprising strength, gripping as though your hand were the only thing keeping her tethered to reality. Her nails bit into your skin, but you didn’t flinch, letting her anchor herself in the gesture. “You’re halfway there,” you murmured, your voice low and soothing, an oasis of calm amid her chaos.

Her breaths came in ragged bursts, her sobs hitching with every sharp inhale as her body quaked uncontrollably. She clung to your hand as if it were the only solid thing in a world of overwhelming sensation. Her lips moved, trying to form words, but all that escaped were soft, broken whimpers, desperate and raw. The tension in her body was unbearable, her chest heaving as her thighs quaked, every nerve ending alive with unbearable intensity.

You glanced at the clock, your own breath steady as the final stretch approached. Her body tensed further, every muscle pulled taut as though she were a bowstring ready to snap.

“Ten,” you began, your voice calm and deliberate, a grounding presence in her storm.

Natty gasped sharply, her entire body stiffening as the vibrations pushed her closer to the edge. Her nails dug deeper into your hand, her legs trembling as she whimpered softly.

“Nine,” you continued, your eyes locked on her.

She shook her head, her eyes wide and glossy with tears. Her lips trembled as a desperate whimper escaped her throat. “It’s too much,” she whispered, her voice cracking. The relentless hum of the vibrator against her clit made her legs quiver uncontrollably.

“Eight.”

Her back arched, her body bucking involuntarily as she let out a strangled cry. “I—I can’t—I can’t!” she sobbed, her tears streaking down her flushed cheeks.

“You’re stronger than this, Natty,” you said calmly, your voice steady and grounding as you brushed her hair back from her sweat-dampened forehead. “You’ve made it this far.”

“Seven.”

Her breathing turned ragged, each gasp shallow and desperate as her hips jerked against the unyielding pressure. The wetness between her legs spread further, the slick sounds of her arousal filling the room. “Please,” she begged, her voice trembling. “Please—I can’t hold it!”

“Six.”

Her nails raked against your hand, her grip tightening as though holding you was the only thing keeping her grounded. Her sobs grew louder, raw and broken as her body writhed beneath the unrelenting assault. Her thighs quivered violently, every muscle trembling with tension.

“Five.”

She let out a guttural moan, her hips grinding involuntarily against the vibrator. “I’m trying—I swear, I’m trying!” she cried, her voice thick with desperation. Her tears flowed freely now, her face flushed and damp as she clung to your hand with all her strength.

“Four.”

Her breath hitched, each exhale turning into a ragged sob as she whimpered, “I can’t do this! I can’t—I’m going to—” Her hips bucked harder, her thighs trembling uncontrollably as her body convulsed against the sheets.

“Three.”

You leaned closer, your breath brushing warmly against her ear. “You’re so close, Natty,” you murmured softly. “Don’t give up now.”

Her lips parted as if to plead, but the only sound that escaped was a desperate, high-pitched whimper. Her chest heaved as her body fought against the overwhelming pleasure, her tears soaking into the pillow beneath her head.

“Two.”

Her entire frame was trembling violently now, her nails digging into your hand as her body teetered on the brink. “Please,” she gasped, her voice breaking. “Please, I need to—I can’t stop it—I need to—”

“Hold on,” you commanded, your voice calm but firm, grounding her with the unshakable authority in your tone.

“One.”

Your voice remained steady as you carefully balanced the vibrator against her swollen clit, the relentless hum sending vibrations coursing through her. Slowly, deliberately, you pulled your hands away, leaving the toy perfectly poised against her trembling body. At first, she didn’t even notice your absence—her mind was fogged with overwhelming need, her focus entirely consumed by the mounting pressure tearing through her.

“Now, Natty,” you murmured softly, your tone calm yet commanding, slicing through the haze clouding her mind.

Her eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused, just as your hands moved to her chest. Your fingers found her sensitive nipples, pinching them lightly before tugging them upward with deliberate precision. The sharp pull elicited a desperate cry from her lips, her hips bucking instinctively against the vibrator. The motion was reflexive, her body torn between seeking relief from the intensity and craving even more of it.

The sensations converged like a tidal wave—the relentless vibrations teasing her folds, the sharp tug on her swollen nipples, and the persistent fullness of the plug nestled deep inside her, pressing in with every trembling movement. Together, they built into an unrelenting storm of pleasure, crashing through her body and leaving no room for control.

Her body stiffened like a bowstring drawn tight, quivering for a suspended second before breaking. And then she shattered. Her back arched violently off the bed, the tendons in her neck straining as her climax slammed into her with unrelenting force. A scream tore from her throat, raw and guttural, reverberating through the room like a primal release.

“Ahhh! F-FUCK!”, her voice cracking under the weight of the pleasure ripping through her.

Natty’s legs snapped shut involuntarily, trapping the vibrator tightly between her trembling thighs. The added pressure amplified the vibrations to an unbearable intensity, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her already over-sensitized body. Her back arched off the bed, her abs contracting so hard it felt like they might cramp, every muscle in her body taut as a bowstring.

The fullness of the plug in her ass only heightened everything, pressing deeper with every spasm of her climax. It felt like her body was tearing apart and coming together simultaneously, every nerve ending alight with sensations so intense they blurred the line between pleasure and pain. She writhed uncontrollably, her head pressing back into the mattress as her trembling hands clawed at the sheets. Her fingers twisted the fabric into fists, her grip so tight her knuckles turned white, desperate for something—anything—to anchor her in the storm raging through her.

“Oh my God—AGH! FUCK, FUCK!” she wailed, her voice breaking into fractured sobs as wave after wave of climax overwhelmed her. Her thighs quivered violently, her entire lower half slick with arousal as the glistening evidence of her release pooled beneath her. The wet, lewd sounds of her trembling movements only added to the intensity, driving her further into a pleasure so consuming it left her mind blank and incoherent.

Her abs cramped again, the sharp ache blending into the relentless throbbing of her core. Every pulse of her body felt magnified a hundredfold. Her nipples, still under the firm grip of your fingers, sent jolts of electric pleasure-pain through her chest with every tug and pinch. Tears streamed down her flushed cheeks, her sobs turning into hiccupping gasps as she struggled to breathe through the overwhelming sensation.

Her vision blurred, the edges of the room fading into a haze of white-hot pleasure. Her thoughts dissolved entirely, her mind unable to focus on anything but the torrent of ecstasy ripping through her. Another scream tore from her throat as her hips bucked helplessly, her body caught in an unrelenting rhythm that wasn’t hers to control.

Her legs trembled violently, the muscles quaking beneath the strain of holding the vibrator in place. Her toes curled and uncurled, the tension radiating from her core to every extremity. She felt utterly consumed, her body reacting on instinct, every motion drawing out the climax until it seemed endless.

Finally, the vibrations began to ease, but her body didn’t stop. The aftershocks rippled through her, smaller waves of pleasure making her twitch uncontrollably. Her chest heaved as she gasped for air, her breaths ragged and uneven. Her limbs felt heavy, trembling faintly as they fell limply to her sides.

Tears continued to streak down her face, her cheeks stained with the evidence of her release. Her entire body glistened with sweat, her skin flushed and glowing in the dim light of the room. Even as her climax began to fade, the plug’s fullness sent tiny, lingering jolts of pleasure radiating outward, leaving her hypersensitive and raw.

You leaned forward, brushing a strand of damp hair from her forehead with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the intensity she had just endured. Her glassy eyes fluttered open, unfocused and hazy, a soft moan escaping her lips as her gaze found yours. The exhaustion in her face was mingled with something else—a quiet, unspoken gratitude.

“You did it, Natty. You’re incredible,” you murmured softly, your voice a warm balm as you brushed a strand of damp hair away from her flushed face. The praise seemed to wrap around her like a blanket, soothing her trembling form as she melted into the mattress, her body finally surrendering to the sweet, blissful exhaustion.

A shuddering breath escaped her lips, her chest heaving with the effort of coming down from the most intense climax of her life. “Thank you…” she whispered hoarsely, her voice cracking under the weight of her relief. Her words were barely audible, trembling with emotion, as her body sank deeper into the bed. She looked utterly wrecked—her cheeks damp with tears, her thighs still quivering faintly, her entire form radiating the afterglow of release.

You sat beside her, your touch gentle as your hand trailed down her arm, your fingers tracing slow, lazy circles on her damp skin. She flinched slightly, her body still hyper-sensitive, but she didn’t pull away. For the first time in weeks, the relentless ache inside her was gone, replaced by a deep, blissful emptiness. Her head lolled to the side, her eyelids fluttering as she floated in the haze of her release. It was a quiet, almost dreamlike state, her mind too overwhelmed to process anything beyond the moment.

For a time, she simply lay there, her breaths coming in slow, ragged bursts. Her body felt weightless, untethered, her thoughts drifting aimlessly as she savored the sweet relief coursing through her. It was everything she had been waiting for—everything she thought she needed.

But as the haze began to lift, her breaths steadied, and a flicker of awareness returned to her gaze. Her glassy eyes blinked open, meeting yours with a dazed vulnerability. The raw emotion in her expression was undeniable—gratitude, relief, and something else, something that lingered in the shadows of her desire.

At first, she didn’t move, her lips parting slightly as though to speak, but no words came. The stillness between you stretched, heavy and charged, until the quiet became almost unbearable.

Then, she inhaled sharply, her voice soft and trembling. “I… I need more.” you felt the tension between you shift, her words a soft, desperate confession that hung heavy in the air.

“Greedy, aren’t we?” you teased, setting the vibrator aside as you leaned closer. The smirk on your lips held no malice, only satisfaction. Her wide, pleading eyes followed your every move as you began to undress. Each button you loosened, each piece of fabric you shed, only heightened her anticipation. Her breaths came faster, her chest rising and falling as she watched your body come into view, her gaze lingering with raw hunger.

Climbing onto the bed, you positioned yourself between her trembling thighs. She spread her legs instinctively, her body quaking beneath you, her slick folds glistening with arousal as she waited for you to fill her. You lined yourself up with her entrance, pausing just long enough to meet her gaze. The raw desperation in her eyes was enough to send a thrill down your spine.

As you pressed into her, the sound she made was somewhere between a gasp and a cry, her hypersensitive body reacting instantly. The tight, wet heat of her clamped around you, her back arching off the bed as she cried out. Her nails dug into your shoulders, her hands clutching you as though you were the only thing keeping her grounded.

“You waited so well,” you murmured against her ear, your voice thick with approval as your hips began to move with deliberate force. “Now, you get all of me.”

Her sobbing moans filled the room, each thrust drawing a broken, needy sound from her lips. She writhed beneath you, her body impossibly responsive to every motion. Your hands moved to her chest, kneading her soft, full breasts, your thumbs brushing over her hardened nipples with teasing strokes. Each touch sent a jolt through her, her breath hitching sharply as her hips bucked instinctively to meet you. Her thighs quivered on either side of you, trembling with the strain of holding back the overwhelming sensations coursing through her.

Leaning down, your mouth found one of her nipples, tugging it gently between your lips. You sucked softly at first, your tongue swirling around the sensitive peak before you increased the pressure, tugging firmly enough to draw a cry from her throat. Her back arched off the bed, her chest pressing further into your touch as her hands clutched desperately at your shoulders.

The plug inside her added another layer of sensation, shifting slightly with each of your movements. The fullness it brought combined with the relentless drive of your thrusts, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. Her walls fluttered around you, a desperate clench that pulled you deeper as she gasped for air.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” you murmured against her skin, your lips brushing against her nipple as your hands continued to explore her soft curves. “God, I love your tits. Made for me to touch, to taste.”

Your teeth grazed her nipple, tugging lightly before sucking hard enough to make her cry out. “Look at how they react for me,” you growled, your voice thick with need as you pinched the neglected peak between your fingers. “So soft, so full. They’re mine, Natty. All mine.”

Her breath hitched at your words, her thighs trembling as her hands tangled in your hair, pulling you closer. “They’re yours,” she whimpered, her voice cracking. “All yours.”

You smirked against her skin, your tongue tracing lazy circles around her sensitive peak before moving to the other. “That’s right,” you growled, your tone possessive. “Every inch of you is mine. Look at how much you need me. Your body can’t hide it.”

Her walls clenched around you again, her moans turning into desperate, high-pitched cries as you continued to drive into her relentlessly. Each thrust sent her spiraling further into ecstasy, her body reacting to every movement with an intensity that bordered on overwhelming.

Shifting your position, you pulled back slightly, your hands sliding down to grip her thighs firmly. With deliberate care, you lifted her legs and pressed them upward, trapping them against her chest. Your knees pinned her in place, holding her completely open and vulnerable in a perfect mating press. The change in angle made her gasp sharply, her wide, hazy eyes locking onto yours.

“You look so fucking good like this,” you murmured, your voice low and dripping with satisfaction. “Completely mine.”

The next thrust sent her screaming, her entire body jolting as you hit that spot deep inside her that made her vision blur. Her nails raked against your arms, her head tossing back against the pillow as her voice broke into desperate cries.

“Right there,” you growled, your eyes locked on her face, watching the way her expression twisted in bliss. “I can feel how much you love it. So fucking tight, clenching around me like you don’t want me to stop.”

Her sobs grew louder, her legs trembling against your chest as her body quaked with every deep, deliberate thrust. You leaned forward slightly, your grip tightening on her thighs as you drove into her harder, deeper, each motion pushing her closer to the edge

“Don’t stop!” she sobbed, her voice breaking as her walls fluttered desperately around you. “Oh, God—please, just—just like that!”

Each powerful thrust jolted her body downward, her back bouncing against the mattress only to rise again to meet you, the force of your movements sending ripples of sensation through her trembling form. The angle of the mating press left her completely at your mercy, her legs pinned upward and her body open to every deep, deliberate motion. Each plunge drove into her so deeply that she gasped, her nails raking frantically across the sheets in a futile attempt to anchor herself.

Her cries climbed in pitch, the tremor in her voice betraying how close she was to unraveling. “Oh my God—ah! Please, please!” she sobbed, her thighs twitching violently as the relentless rhythm pushed her to the edge. The slick sound of your bodies meeting echoed in the room, mingling with her desperate cries, the evidence of her arousal pooling beneath her on the bed.

Her chest heaved, her full, sensitive breasts brushing against your chest with each thrust. The friction only heightened her pleasure, her hardened nipples sending electric jolts through her trembling body every time they grazed against your skin. Her walls clamped down on you rhythmically, pulling you deeper, the overwhelming sensations making her feel as though she might shatter.

Sensing how close she was, you shifted with deliberate precision. Your hands slid from her thighs, snaking beneath her legs until they found the soft, round curves of her ass. You cupped her cheeks firmly, your fingers digging into the plush flesh as you lifted her hips off the mattress slightly. The adjustment pulled her even deeper onto you, the angle driving you into her sweet spot with devastating accuracy. Each thrust sent her body jolting violently against yours, the new position leaving her utterly breathless.

Her cries became incoherent, her head tossing back against the pillow as she writhed beneath you. “Oh—oh fuck!” she screamed, her voice cracking as another wave of sensation tore through her. Her nails scraped down your back, leaving fiery trails in their wake, her trembling fingers clutching at you desperately.

Your mouth descended to one of her taut, begging nipples, capturing it with your lips as your thrusts never faltered. You sucked hard, tugging and flicking your tongue against the sensitive peak in perfect rhythm with your movements. Her back arched sharply, a strangled cry escaping her lips as her entire body seemed to tighten beneath you. The way her walls clenched around you made your own need burn hotter, driving you to push her even further.

“You’re mine,” you murmured against her heated skin, your voice low and possessive. You squeezed her other breast firmly, kneading it with one hand while your fingers rolled her nipple between them, tugging and twisting just enough to make her gasp. Each motion sent another shockwave through her trembling frame, her moans escalating into desperate, high-pitched whimpers.

“Fuck,” you growled, your tone thick with desire as your eyes met hers, hazy and overwhelmed with pleasure. “You’re taking all of me. So tight, so perfect—you were made for this. Made for me.”

Her body answered in kind, her walls fluttering uncontrollably around you as the pressure inside her built to an unbearable peak. Her thighs quaked against your sides, trembling as her body instinctively tried to match your relentless rhythm, every nerve alight with overwhelming sensation.

The fullness inside her was all-consuming. The plug pressed deeply, amplifying every thrust as it heightened the sensation of your length stretching and filling her. The dual pressure left her gasping, her breaths shallow and uneven, her mind reeling as she balanced on the knife’s edge of ecstasy.

When you thrust even deeper, hitting that perfect spot inside her with relentless precision, her body couldn’t take it anymore. Her orgasm hit like a tidal wave, crashing through her with violent force. Her scream tore through the room, raw and guttural, as her walls clamped down on you in an unrelenting grip. “AAGH! Fuck—oh, fuck! I—I can’t—” Her words dissolved into incoherent sobs, her hands scrambling desperately for purchase against your shoulders, pulling you closer as her body shattered beneath you.

Her muscles tensed and released in rapid, uncontrollable spasms, her thighs trembling violently as her body gave itself over to the release she’d been denied for so long. The intensity of her climax rivaled her previous, earth shattering one., her body jerking with each wave as tears streamed down her flushed cheeks. She could feel every inch of you inside her, the fullness making her dizzy as her mind blurred into a haze of white-hot pleasure.

You didn’t stop. Your hands gripped her soft cheeks tighter, lifting her hips slightly as you pressed even deeper into her. The angle drove you against every sensitive nerve inside her, pulling even more desperate cries from her lips. Her walls rippled around you, milking you with each spasm as her release seemed endless, her trembling form unable to settle as the aftershocks kept her teetering on the brink.

Your climax hit like a flood, every pulse of release spilling deep inside her as your body trembled against hers. Each spurt of warmth was thick and heavy, filling her completely, and the sensation drew a sharp, trembling gasp from her lips. Her eyes flew open, wide with shock and arousal, as she clung to you with trembling hands.

“Oh my God,” she whimpered, her voice barely audible, her words catching in her throat as the sensation overwhelmed her. “So much…” Her thighs quivered uncontrollably, pressing tightly against your sides as her oversensitive body reacted to every movement, every pulse.

The heat of your release spread slowly, the fullness consuming her entirely. She could feel the weight of it settling deep inside her, combining with the unyielding presence of the plug to leave her utterly stuffed. Her walls fluttered around you, squeezing reflexively as though her body couldn’t bear to let go of even a drop.

Her breathing hitched as she whimpered again, the faintest shift of her hips causing another jolt of sensation to ripple through her. “I can feel it,” she whispered, her voice cracking, her cheeks flushing even deeper as her hands clung to your arms. “It’s… so much,” she sobbed softly, her words breaking into shaky, uneven breaths.

You didn’t pull away immediately. Instead, you stayed buried inside her, letting the warmth of your bodies meld together. Each faint twitch of her inner walls drew a soft groan from you, the intensity of her aftershocks still gripping you as she trembled beneath you. Her thighs shook against your hips, the muscles twitching as if her body was trying to process the overwhelming fullness.

Your hands slid down her sides, grounding her as she whimpered again, her nails digging faintly into your skin. “I… I can’t believe…” she stammered, her voice trembling as her head fell back against the pillow. Her chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath, the slickness between you evidence of just how thoroughly you’d filled her.

Her body relaxed gradually, the tension in her muscles giving way to the soft, warm haze of afterglow. But even as she melted into you, her oversensitive body still twitched faintly with each aftershock. She blinked slowly, her gaze glassy and unfocused as a faint, dazed smile curved her lips.

Leaning down, you brushed your lips against her damp forehead, your breaths mingling as you murmured, “You were perfect, Natty. Every single part of you.”

Her body slackened beneath you, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. The combination of your warmth inside her, the lingering tension of the plug, and the complete fulfillment of finally letting go left her trembling. Yet, despite her exhaustion, her arms tightened around you, her hands resting against your back as though she was afraid to let you go.

Her lips curled into a faint, exhausted smile, her voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you…” The words were soft, raw with emotion, her head tilting slightly to nuzzle against your shoulder. Her breath tickled your skin as she sighed deeply, a sound that carried both relief and contentment.

You stayed close, your fingers tracing gentle circles along her thighs, soothing the trembling muscles. The room was still, the quiet filled only with the sound of your breathing and the occasional faint whimper as her body adjusted to the overwhelming sensations still radiating through her. The intimacy of the moment held you both in its grasp, neither of you willing to break the connection.

As your muscles began to relax, you shifted slightly, preparing to pull back. But the moment you started to move, her legs clamped around you, her hands gripping your shoulders with surprising strength. “No,” she whispered, her voice soft but insistent. “Don’t… not yet.”

You stilled, your gaze meeting hers. Her wide, vulnerable eyes held a pleading look that spoke volumes, and you felt her inner walls flutter faintly around you, still pulsing in the aftermath of her climax. “I need this,” she murmured, her voice trembling. “Stay… please.”

You exhaled softly, leaning down to press a tender kiss to her lips. “Okay,” you whispered, your voice warm and reassuring. “I’ll stay.”

Her body relaxed again beneath you, her legs loosening slightly but still holding you close. She shifted just enough to get comfortable, her head nestled into the crook of your neck, her breaths warm against your skin. The intimacy was almost overwhelming, the feeling of being so deeply connected both physically and emotionally grounding you both.

Time seemed to blur as the exhaustion began to take over. Her body molded against yours, her hands resting lightly on your back as her breaths evened out. Despite the fullness she still felt, her body relaxed entirely. It wasn’t discomfort anymore; it was a sense of being whole, of closeness she didn’t want to end.

“Natty,” you murmured softly, brushing your lips against her temple. “I’m just moving us. I’ve got you.”

She hummed in acknowledgment, her voice barely audible as her head nestled further into the crook of your neck. Carefully, you rolled her over, cradling her as you shifted until she was on top of you. The change in position was smoother than expected, her lighter frame settling easily against your chest. She sighed softly, her cheek pressed to your collarbone, her body melting into yours like she belonged there.

“This is better,” you murmured, your hands tracing soothing patterns along her back. “Easier for me to hold you.”

She mumbled something incoherent, her voice thick with exhaustion and satisfaction. The warmth of her breath against your skin made you smile, and you began to pepper soft kisses across her face. You started at her temple, trailing down to her cheek, then across the bridge of her nose. Each kiss was tender, deliberate, a quiet celebration of everything you’d just shared.

“You’re so good, Natty,” you murmured between kisses. “You’ve been incredible.”

She hummed again, the sound low and contented, her lips curving into the faintest smile. Her body relaxed even further against yours, the tension completely melting away as your words wrapped around her.

Your hands moved to her hair, threading through the strands gently as you continued to speak. “You’re everything I need,” you whispered, your voice soft and warm. “I’m so proud of you. So proud of how far you’ve come.”

Her arms tightened around you, her fingers clutching softly at your sides as she sighed deeply. The rise and fall of her chest against yours slowed, her breathing evening out as her exhaustion began to take over. Her head tilted slightly, her lips brushing against your collarbone in a gesture so faint it was almost subconscious.

As her breathing deepened, you felt her weight grow heavier against you, her body finally succumbing to sleep. You wrapped your arms more securely around her, pressing one final kiss to her forehead as her face relaxed into the softest expression of peace.

“Sweet dreams, Natty,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

The room fell into a tranquil stillness, the quiet intimacy wrapping around you both as you closed your eyes. Still connected, still grounded in each other, you let sleep take you, the warmth of her presence the last thing you felt before drifting off.

Afterward, she lay curled against your chest, her body trembling faintly as the intensity of the night ebbed away. Her breaths were soft and uneven, her cheek pressed against your skin, her warmth melding into yours. You brushed a hand through her hair, your fingers threading gently through the damp strands as you pressed a tender kiss to her temple.

“You did it,” you murmured, your voice low and filled with pride. “You made it. And you were perfect.”

Her lips curved into a soft, sleepy smile, her eyes fluttering closed. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice fragile and barely audible, as though speaking too loudly would break the delicate serenity of the moment.

You smirked slightly, the corner of your mouth lifting as your hand drifted to her back, tracing lazy circles against her skin. The rhythmic motion was soothing, grounding her as she nestled closer into your embrace. “Don’t forget this feeling, Natty,” you said, your tone steady but laced with affection. “You earned it.”

A soft hum escaped her lips, her exhaustion pulling her deeper into the comfort of your arms. Her body slackened, her breathing evening out as she surrendered completely, her trust in you evident in every relaxed line of her form.

You lay there quietly, the room settling into a peaceful stillness. The faint scent of her lingered in the air, a reminder of the passion and vulnerability she’d shared with you. A quiet pride swelled in your chest. She had given herself over to you fully, trusted you with every part of herself, and in return, you’d given her everything she had needed—and more.

As she drifted into sleep, her body curled protectively against yours, you held her close, your hand never stopping its soothing motion. For now, the storm was over, and you both could bask in the calm it left behind.

#kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop smut #girl group smut #reader insert #kinkvember #kinkvember 2024 #male reader #kiss of life #kiof #kiss of life natty #kiof natty #kiss of life natty smut #kiof natty smut #natty smut #natty kiss of life #natty kiof #natty x reader #anatchaya suputtipong

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javierpena-inatacvest · 3 days ago

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Chapter 6- Undeniable

Summary: when your car breaks down, you’re forced to ask Frankie for help. You’re not sure what you hate more- that you have to ask him for help, or that there’s a part of you that maybe can tolerate him

Word count: 6.2k

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (reader has a name/nickname, no use of y/n)

Warnings: Angst, tension (in a good way??!!), yearning (AHHH), teenage Frankie (and current day Frankie, for that matter) are down so bad, Santi and Benny play Dr. Phil

A/N: okay I said there would be smut this chapter, but I am a liar, and I am sorry 🤥 I flip flopped some scenes around and it ended up making more sense for some ✨things✨ to happen next chapter instead 🤷🏼‍♀️ I seriously love these two more and more every chapter, and this may have been my favorite one to write so far!! Thank you SO much for all the kind things you’ve had to say about this story- it really means more to me than you know 🥺💛 (sorry for any errors, I didn't have time to edit this chapter as well as I should have!)

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Frankie, Age 18, Summer of 2007

“Jesus Christ, Morales, you got bricks for feet, or what?”

The Garcia’s newly installed basketball hoop had been a welcome addition to the neighborhood rotation of afterschool hangouts. Santi knows just as well as Frankie and Benny that it’s really nothing but a ploy to keep the boys occupied and out their parent’s hair, but the three have gladly accepted the olive branch Santi’s parents have extended to them, regardless of motive.

Now that the heat of late May has begun to sear off the pavement of Everett Street and the dwindling motivation of senior year is in full force, basketball has quickly taken over as the new after school activity.

Benny and Santi love it because it gives them a chance to get out the competitive angst they’ve had locked away since football season has come to a close.

Frankie loves it because it gives him something to keep him occupied until you come home from soccer practice.

Even then, he still finds himself anxiously counting down the minutes until your car pulls into the driveway, stepping out of the driver’s seat to give him that same goofy wave of approval that frees him from his friends’ constant bickering about where the three point line lays on the cement.

Ever since he told you he was leaving, there’s a part of him that debates forgoing basketball all together, just so he can make it to your house that much quicker when you get home. Now more than ever, he’s hyper aware of every second he has left with you, the internal countdown constantly nagging in the back of his mind before it’s four hundred miles that separate the two of you, not four houses.

Because now, not only does he have 74 days left to figure out how to say goodbye to his best friend, he has 74 days left to figure out how to tell her that he’s head over heels in love with her.

That’s what’s on Frankie’s mind as the pass Santi’s thrown at him rolls right past his shoes and down the driveway.

No shit, he’s got bricks for feet.

“Helloooooo? Earth to Frankie? You gonna get the fuckin’ ball, or what?” Santi shouts, wildly waving his arms, trying to snap his friend out of whatever weird daydream he’s stuck in.

“Oh, y-yeah. Yeah, sorry.” Frankie stammers, half jogging for the bouncing ball, tossing it back to Benny, also barely paying attention enough to keep the rubber from smacking him upside the head.

“Fuck, dude, you tryin’ to kill me, or somethin’? A heads up would be nice next time!” Benny scoffs, trying to downplay the fact he’s nearly just shit his pants from the ball that came out of nowhere and almost took him out.

“S-sorry. My bad.” Frankie grimaces, sheepishly running his hand through his thick, messy curls before rubbing the back of his neck.

Santi and Benny exchange confused glances with each other before turning their attention back to their clearly pre-occupied friend.

“Hey, you good, man?” Santi asks, scrunching his brow at Frankie’s tortured scowl.

“Yeah dude, you’ve been like, super out of it the past couple of days. Everything okay?” Benny adds. He tries to discreetly nudge Santi, givinging him a look that’s meant to ask if there’s something he’s missing. The best Santi can give him back is an ambivalent shrug, just as lost as his friend as to why Frankie’s mentally residing on another planet.

“Yeah. I’m- I’m fine.”

Sure, Santi and Benny aren’t as emotionally mature as their friend, but they also aren’t stupid. It’s obvious there’s something he’s keeping from them, and they’re far too relentless to let it go until they find out.

“Dude… C’mon.” Santi prods, taking a step towards Frankie to poke him on the shoulder.

“Yeah, spill the fuckin’ beans, Frank. What the hell’s goin’ on?” Benny chimes in, following Santi’s lead with another forceful poke.

“It’s nothing! Jesus, will you drop it?”

Santi smirks at how agitated Frankie’s become, spending enough years with his friend to know there’s one thing, and one thing only that’s got him this worked up.

“Is this about Kenz?”

Frankie’s eyes dart rapidly between his friends, the sky and his feet, too afraid to settle in one place as he’s consumed by his own silence, crossing his arms over his chest as he braces himself to defend against the onslaught he’s about to be faced with.

He could lie, say no, keep arguing with Santi and Benny until he’s blue in the face, but he knows it’s no use. Deep down, he has a feeling they already know what he’s going to say. He also has a feeling he’ll never go a day for the rest of his life where they won’t give him ten pounds of shit for it, but Frankie’s desperate. If he doesn’t figure out what to do, there’s a good chance he just may explode.

“You have to swear you won’t say anything about this to anyone.” Frankie sternly sighs, eyeing down his friends with a deathly glare, “Swear you won’t.”

“We swear, man.”

“Yeah, we swear.”

Benny and Santi nod in agreement, too shocked at his agreement to tell them anything rather than asking them to fuck off and leave him alone. They wait in patient silence as Frankie takes a long, shaky deep breath in.

“I um- fuck. Fuck.” He stammers, terrified to hear himself admit what he’s had locked away in his brain for years out loud for the first time, “I’m uh- I think I’m in love with MacKezie. I think I’m in love with her and I don’t know what to do.”

Frankie’s mortified by the silence from his friends in the seconds that follow. He’s even more mortified by their howling laughter that comes after that.

“That’s it? Oh, thank God!” Santi cackles, him and Benny clutching their chests to try and keep themselves standing, “Dude, I thought you were gonna say something fucking crazy. You looked like you were gonna fucking throw up.”

“W-what? Santi, did you not just hear what I fucking said? I literally just told you-”

“That you’re in love with MacKenzie? News flash, Morales, we’ve known you’ve been in love with her since like, the eighth grade. Holy shit, I can’t believe you finally fucking admitted it!”

Frankie’s face grows hotter by the second, his cheeks ablaze with bright reds and pinks, not sure if he’s more embarrassed by what he’s admitted, or the fact that he’s worked himself up for weeks to finally tell his friends something they’ve already known for years and Frankie was too blind to realize it.

“Well, okay- I just- what am I- what am I gonna do?” Frankie stutters, throwing his hands up to the sky, very aware that the admittance of his love for you is only a small part to his greater problem.

“Whatta you mean, what are you gonna do?” Benny questions, he and Santi still giggling over how frantic and flustered Frankie still was.

“It’s not fuckin’ rocket science, Frank.” Santi smirks, giving him a playful nudge, “Just tell her that you love her.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind, Santi?! I can’t just tell her I love her, that’s- fuck, that’s crazy!” Frankie’s all but shouting at his friend for what feels like the most outrageous idea he’s ever heard, crazily pacing up and down the driveway, as if he’s asking his friends for advice on where to hide the body he’s just killed.

“And that would be crazy because….?” Santi teases, anxiously awaiting whatever ridiculous answer Frankie has to finish off the rest of his sentence.

“Because?!” Frankie asks, storming so fast up and down the driveway, he’s about to make fresh cracks in the concrete, “Because, b-because- fuck, Santi, what if I tell her that I love her and she doesn’t feel the same way? What if I ruin our friendship forever and then I get my fuckin’ heart broken and lose my best friend? Jesus Christ, that’s why.”

“You wanna tell him or should I?” Benny proposes, shrugging at Santi.

In a silent agreement, Santi gives Benny a nod, taking a step towards Frankie to grab him by the shoulders, forcing him to stand still enough to capture his full attention.

“Frankie, lemme ask you this.” Santi pauses, bringing Frankie’s gaze from his feet up to his friend, thinking for once in his life, he may actually be willing to give him some serious advice.

“Yeah?”

“Are you blind, or are you stupid? ‘Cause I think you may be both.”

“What the fuck, dude?!” Frankie scoffs over Santi and Benny’s snickering, outstretching his arms to push Santi off of him.

“Damn, maybe he is.” Benny grimaces overdramatically, playing into Santi’s theatrics.

“Fuck off, Benny!” Frankie frowns, starting to regret asking his friends for help.

“Jesus Christ, I can’t believe I really have to spell this out for you.” Santi sighs, squeezing his temples between his thumb and index finger.

“What!?” Frankie presses, nearly fed up with his antics.

“Shit, you’re right Benny, he may be dumber than we thought.” Santi snorts before quickly turning his attention back to Frankie, “Frankie… You do realize MacKenzie’s in love with you too, right?”

Frankie feels his heart stop. He’s partly convinced it’s flatlined indefinitely. The only thing that’s keeping him alive is even the tiniest chance that what Santi has to say is actually true.

That maybe, just maybe, you love him, too.

“Santi, c’mon. Be- be fucking serious. There’s no way.”

Frankie won’t let himself believe anything yet, no matter how badly he wants to. Knowing Santi, he wouldn’t be shocked if he’s trying to pull him in to some sick sort of joke, but the looks on his, and Benny’s faces is all the earth shattering reassurance Frankie needs to know that Santi’s telling the truth.

“He’s being serious, I swear.” Benny chimes in, trying to aid in convincing Frankie.

“Think about it, Frank. The two of you spend every fucking second together. You’re basically already dating without actually dating. And not even just because of the fact you like, pretty much go on dates to the movies or ice cream, or whatever. Didn’t you say she cried for like, an hour when you told her you were leaving?”

“I- I mean, y- yeah, I guess.”

“Or the fact that she’s never dated anyone else and has had you locked in as her prom date since last year.” Benny adds.

“Don't even get me started on the fact you two cuddle every time we watch a movie together, because God forbid you’re not touching each other for an hour and a half.”

“I- I- I- don’t know. I mean, sure, yeah, but just because she does that doesn’t mean she’s in love with me!”

Frankie can feel his insides churn, like someone’s put them in a blender and cranked it on high. He’s not sure what’s more terrifying- that you do all those things but you’re not in love with him, or that you do all of them because you are.

He quickly comes to determine the second is much scarier than the first. Mostly because there’s a part of him that believes maybe you’re just as in love with him as he is with you.

“Fuck, I think I’m gonna throw up.”

Frankie’s knees wobble as he sinks to the ground, bottom hitting the pavement with a thud.

“Well shit, don’t do it on the driveway, my mom’s gonna kill me. If you gotta yak, at least do it on the grass.”

Santi and Benny settle in on either side of Frankie, the trio of boys squatting at the edge of the driveway. Frankie buries his head in his hands, scrunching his face so hard into his sweaty palms that maybe, some sort of reasonable idea will pop into his brain if he squeezes hard enough.

“You guys really think she likes me? Like, actually?” Frankie asks, peeking his head up to look back and forth between Santi and Benny.

“Uh, yeah.” The pair agree in unison, each giving their friend a pat on the back, trying to keep their all-knowing laughter at bay to soothe Frankie through his distress.

“Fuck. Holy shit. So- So what do I do? Just- Do I just tell her?”

“I mean, I’m no love guru, but you like, may wanna be a little more subtle than that.” Benny snickers, giving Frankie a little nudge, “I mean, do you wanna tell her?”

“Yeah. Fuck. Fuck, I wanna tell her so bad.” It spills out of Frankie’s mouth without any hesitation. The more he thinks about it, the more sure he is.

“Like, you’re already going with her to prom and stuff. You could do it then?” Santi suggests with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

“Damn, alright, Mr. Romance over here with the advice.”

“Shut up, Benny. You got any better advice? At least I’ve fuckin’ had a girlfriend before, you dingus, have you? Didn’t think so.”

Frankie’s completely blocked out their bickering, lost in his own train of thought, where all he can picture is you- Your smile, the little strand of hair that you tuck behind your ear when it falls in your face, the way your nose crinkles when you laugh, the little curl in your lips you get when you smirk at him when he tells a stupid joke.

How badly he wishes his lips could meet yours to feel that smirk pressed against his face.

“Do… Do you- Do you think I should kiss her?”

“Jesus Christ, Frankie, what are we, twelve?” Yeah, man, fuckin’ kiss her.” Santi snorts, Benny joining in with muffled laughter in his throat at the innocence of his question, “God, with how nervous you sounded, I thought you were gonna ask if you should like, have sex with her, or somethin’.”

It’s then his brain truly short circuits, his heart about to fall out of his ass and lump in his throat the size of a softball.

He has enough balls to admit he’s thought plenty of times about kissing you.

But right now, he certainly doesn’t have enough balls to confess to his friends, (or even to himself, for that matter) he’s spent just as much time thinking about doing a lot more than just kissing you.

He’s spent even more time thinking about just how badly he wants to.

One step at a time, Morales.

You, Present

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me…”

Turning over your ignition to the sound of empty rattles once wasn’t anything to worry about.

Turning it over twice to the sound of silence you could chalk up to bad luck.

But after six different attempts to start your car to no avail, you were fairly certain your issue wasn’t based solely on user error.

“Fuck…” You huff to yourself, yanking out your keys and slamming the driver’s side door behind you as you storm back into the house, now in a race against the clock to get your car not only started, but driveable enough to get you to work on time.

It’s the stupid things like this you haven’t mentally prepared yourself for when it comes to your father’s impending death- Not having a built in mechanic at your disposal to help solve your car issues when something goes awry. It seems selfish to take from the few precious moments you have left with him to pester your dad about your car troubles, but you know for a fact, your dying father has a better chance of diagnosing your issue from his bed than you do hands deep in the engine.

“Hey, Dad.” You grimace, gently rousing him from his half-awake state in front of the TV, “Dad, can I ask you something, or are you too busy dying?”

Your joke is enough to crack a sleepy smile in the corner of his lips, grunting as he turns his head over to see you hunched over the edge of his bed.

“Depends. Is it worth my time, or should I go back to decaying?” He fights with everything in him to let out the softest laugh, a sputtering cough following as his chest rises and falls, trying his best to not let his final days prevent him from being the helpful dad you’d always known.

“My car won’t start. Do you have any idea of what it could be?”

“You gonna wheel me out to the driveway to have me figure it out?”

You both know it’s ridiculous, what you’re asking him to do. You’re not sure what compelled you to think that he’d be able to help solve your problem, but your yearning for the normalcy that’s been absent in your life for so long seems to outweigh any logic.

“I think we could probably crank the bed high enough for you to look under the hood.” You shrug with a sad type of sarcasm, anxiously fiddling with your fingers to try and brainstorm a solution to your time-sensitive issue.

“You know there’s someone four houses down who is very capable of solving your problem who isn’t dying.”

For as hard as your dad fought for his half huffed laugher, he fights even harder for the smug smirk pinching the corner of his cheeks.

“Dad…” You let out a deep breath, trying to not let your eyes roll to the back of your skull from even pondering the idea of admitting to Frankie Morales that you need his help.

“Mackenzie Grace?” He questions back, pretending to be blissfully unaware of your reason for dramatic pause.

“Dad, you can’t be serious.”

“I am, actually. Dead serious. And right now, I’m at a point in my life where that statement can’t be any closer to the truth.”

Unfortunately, that’s an argument you can’t fight.

You sigh again, chewing at your lip to see if your brain can muster any other plausible solution before you admit defeat, but you know it’s no use. Your dad is kind enough to accept your silence as a white flag, sparing you the embarrassment of admitting he’s right. What he’s not kind enough to do, is to let you off without making sure he gets the last word.

“You can’t stay mad at him forever, honey.”

“I can, actually.”

Right now, your dad better thank his lucky stars he’s dying, because any other circumstance, and you would have already been halfway out the door before you put yourself through this conversation again.

“MacKenzie,” He pauses, the frail and wrinkled ends of his fingertips reaching out just enough to rest on the hand you have wrapped around the bar of his bed guard rails, “if I give you some dying words of wisdom, do you promise to listen, actually listen to what I have to say?”

You know he’s about to tell you something you have no intention of wanting to hear. You want so badly to lie, to say “yes”, just to appease him without really meaning it. But the guilty conscious eating you alive in the pit of your stomach won’t let you get off that easily.

“Yeah, I promise.”

It’s soft enough for only you and him, just quiet enough to keep the world out of your shared secret.

“Holding a grudge won’t make you any happier. It won’t change what happened, either. I’d be willing to bet he’s still holding one against you, too. There’s two sides to every story, MacKenzie Grace, and you can’t keep blaming him like you didn’t have a part in what happened, too. He’s already accepted he’s in the wrong for what he did. God bless the fact you ended up just as stubborn as your old man, but at some point, you have to get off your high horse and do the same.”

It’s unsettling, the feeling that washes over you- it makes every inch of your body twinge and wince in a strange sort of self-inflicted pain you can’t shake, the indescribable discomfort that makes you want to crawl out of your skin and evaporate into thin air. The tormented sensation stirring in your gut makes you want to scream and cry and run away, all at the same time.

Because it’s not the truth of your dad’s words alone that make you feel this way- you’ve come face to face with this truth more times than you’d like to count.

It’s the fact that for the first time, you’ve come face to face with the truth, and there’s a part of you that can accept it.

You stand there for another moment at the edge of his bed, eyes peeled to the ground, trying to find the words you’re too scared to admit. Maybe your silence is a loud enough confession.

“I’ll see you when I get back from work, okay?” You lean down and kiss his head, giving your dad’s hand a final, gentle squeeze before you’re halfway out the door, car keys in hand.

“I thought your car wasn’t working?”

Your dad has never been one for “I told you so��s” . The stifled smile and playful glisten in his tired eyes will do just fine.

“Bye, Dad.”

Your dad’s words echo in your brain as you begin your journey down the driveway, terrified by the tiniest amount of weight it’s lifted off your shoulders.

“Holding a grudge won’t make you any happier. It won’t change what happened, either.”

Maybe he’s got a point. But that’s easy to say when you’re only dealing with the idea of Frankie you’ve built up in your head, not when you’re about to come face to face with him in real time.

There’s a part of you that debates just walking to work. Hell, the hour walk it would take you to get to work would probably be easier than the thirty second walk you’re about to take four houses down.

You’ll be lucky if you don’t gnaw off your entire thumbnail by the time you make it to the Morales’s doorstep, trying to clench your fists as tight as possible with every step you take towards their house to attempt to keep your nerves (and nails) intact.

You’re not sure you’ve ever walked this slow to his house. There was once a time that you couldn’t sprint there fast enough, legs leaping over cracks in the sidewalk to meet Frankie at his front door. Now, it feels like you might as well be crawling with the time you’re trying to waste before you ring his doorbell.

You practically tip toe up the steps to the porch, like it’s some sort of crime to be at his house and you’re terrified of being caught. Your finger hovers over the doorbell, outstretched and ready to press, too frozen in fear to move the extra inch it will take to press the rounded button.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” You curse under your breath, furrowing your brow at your inability to face his front door. You ball your free hand up to a fist, slamming your knuckles against your forehead with a sigh so heavy, you’d probably give that wolf from The Three Little Pigs a run for his money, “‘C’mon, MacKenzie, just ring the damn doorbell.”

Your heart stops as the tip of your index finger finally pushes hard enough to force the high pitched chime, forcing yourself to keep your feet planted on the doormat below you instead of booking it half way across town.

“One sec!”

The bellow of his voice from behind the door is enough to jumpstart the stand still of your heartbeat, so much so that in an instant, it’s gone from flatlining to nearly beating out of your chest.

At this point, even if you wanted to run, you’re not sure your body would let you.

As the knob turns and draws back towards the house, Frankie’s broad body fills the doorframe. He looks almost as frozen as you, so stunned by your presence, his tongue darts between his lips as a placeholder for the words he lacks.

“H-hey?” He asks it so cautiously, eyebrows scrunching in confusion while he looks you up and down, too scared to say anything else until he figures out why you’ve shown up at his front door.

“My um- My car won’t- I have to go to work and I can’t get my car to start.”

You don’t dare phrase it as anything other than a statement of fact. You’ll die before the words “Frankie, will you help me?” escape from your lips.

“O-oh. Shit.” He cocks his head, the pinch of his face immediately easing along with the rest of his body, standing up a little straighter as he leans against the doorframe.

“Sorry, i-if you’re busy or whatever, don’t feel like you-”

“No- No, I mean, yeah, no, I don’t- shit-” He stutters, pausing as he shakes his head with a little laugh at the ground, trying to compose himself before he trips over his words again, “Yes, I um- Yeah, I can help.”

“O-okay. Thank- Thanks.” You try to fight the tug you feel in your lips creeping towards the corner of your cheeks that mirrors the grin Frankie’s trying so desperately to hide on his face.

The two of you stand there for a moment, feet wriggling in the tips of your shoes and fingers twiddling in your pockets, using every ounce of strength you have to ignore the heat flushing through your cheeks that makes you want to hate him just a little bit less.

It’s hard to suppress when Frankie’s trying to keep up his facade with the world’s worst poker face as he’s beaming ear to ear.

“Let me just uh- Lemme grab some stuff and I’ll meet you over there?” He asks, tiptoeing around what seems too good to be true.

“Y-yeah. Yeah, sounds good.”

You give each other a little nod before he disappears behind his door. You tilt your head to the sky, eyes closed as the deepest sigh of relief you can take escapes your body. It feels like the first gasp you take when you peak above the surface after holding your breath underwater, remembering what it feels like to finally breathe again.

It takes everything in you to pretend you don’t feel the strange pang in your chest as you watch Frankie walk to your house after you’ve made it back to your driveway, his gray shirt clinging to his biceps as he carries over his bucket of tools and brown curls spilling out from under the worn, Standard Oil hat he’s obviously still refused to throw away.

You lean against the hood of your car, arms crossed over your chest, trying your best to seem ambivalent about the whole ordeal.

If you were nominated for an Oscar in the “Pretending to be aloof in front of Frankie Morales while he fixes your car” category, you most surely wouldn’t be winning.

“Hey, again.” He grins as he sets his tools down, mirroring your stance to cross his arms over his chest.

“Hey, again.” You parrot.

“So, uh… Your car?” Frankie asks, nodding over to the vehicle you’re leaning on.

“Yeah, uh- yeah, I don’t know what’s going on. I tried starting it like, five different times and it doesn’t do anything. I’ve never had this happen to me before and of course it’s when I’m trying to leave for work.” You shrug, trying to play into the fact you at least tried to do something before coming to find him.

“Huh. Alright, well, lemme see what I can do, okay?” He nods again, leaving your fingers to play with your sleeves to keep yourself occupied, instead of staring at him, mesmerized by the way you can still hear the gears turning in his brain as he processes. “Can I uh- is it okay if I have the keys?”

You fumble through your pockets, digging out your keys to place them in the palm of Frankie’s outstretched hand, the linger of your touch on his skin just long enough to make you subtly jerk your arm back in embarrassment.

You step back to let Frankie slide past you, watching him try to squeeze himself into the driver’s seat to start your car, half his body still hanging out the open door.

“Are you- are you not teaching anymore?”

“Wh- huh?” His question catches you off guard, the scowl of confusion painted across your face making him quickly elaborate before drawing his attention back to your car.

“You just uh- sorry, you said you were going to work. It’s 5 P.M. on a Thursday in June, so, ya know, figured you probably weren’t going to school.”

He gives the key one more turn before sliding out of the car, carefully passing your keys back off to you before making his way to open the hood. You cautiously follow behind him, arms still crossed against your chest as he props the front of the car up to reveal the engine.

“Oh. Uh- no, yeah. No, I’m uh- I’m still teaching. Normally I do summer school to make some extra money, but because of my dad and everything and not being home, it just, ya know, I just couldn’t. I still wanted something to do to make money and keep me busy, so um, Katie’s Dad still owns The Parrot’s Nest on 14th, so I asked him if I could just do some part time waitressing and bartending and stuff. It’s nice ‘cause he’s been really flexible with everything going on.”

Your eyes dart to the ground as Frankie shifts his view from the inside of the car back to you. The air fills with a heavy pause, like neither of you are really sure how to react to the fact you’re managing a semi-civil conversation that’s more than just one word responses.

Frankie lets out a quiet huff, trying to hide the soft smile curling in the corner of his scruff covered cheeks before turning back to the car, silently tinkering for a few moments before mustering up the courage to speak again.

“That’s nice of him. Didn’t even know that place was still around.” There’s a little grunt as he leans deeper into the car, reaching around to search for some sort of part he wants to check, “I’m uh- I’m glad you’re still teaching, though. That’s um, that’s good.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Your hands have shifted from folded across your chest to in your pockets, a subconscious move you’ve made as a brick from the wall you’ve built between yourself and Frankie Morales seems to crumble without you realizing.

You let him work for a few more moments before he’s diagnosed your issue, carefully closing the hood and wiping the engine grime on the towel from the tool bucket he’s brought with him.

“So uh- good news is, you just need a new battery. Easy fix. Bad news is, your battery’s dead, and your car’s not gonna start without a new one.” Frankie shrugs, hoping he’s not pushing his luck with the little laugh he gives himself at his joke.

“Fuck. Okay, uh- shit, okay.” You mutter, not necessarily upset with Frankie for delivering the news of his discovery, but angry at the fact you need to buy a new car battery and have no way to get to work. “Um, sorry, give me a second, I’m gonna call Jim and let him know that I can’t make it in today.”

“I- I can drive you.”

You’re sure Frankie’s just as surprised as you when the offer comes out of his mouth, freezing your thumb over your boss’s contact you’re about to dial. Frankie clearly interprets the look on your face as one of skepticism about his idea, quickly trying to backpedal before he preemptively digs his own grave.

“No, I mean, um- if you want. I can- I can drop you off. So you, uh- that way you don’t have to miss work.”

“No, Frankie, it’s fine, you- you already helped figure out what’s wrong with my car, it’s not a big deal, don’t wo-”

“I want to.”

You don’t mean for your sigh to be as audible as it is. It only seems fair, considering there was no world in which you ever considered having to contemplate not only asking Frankie for help, but also spending a fifteen minute car ride together so he can drop you off at work. You chew at your bottom lip as you contemplate the lesser of two evils- be stuck in Frankie’s metal death trap of a car, forced within a 3 foot proximity of him for the entire ride, or miss out on the most hours you’ve been scheduled in the past two weeks for money you really do need.

Swallowing your pride is the toughest pill you’ve had to swallow in quite a long time.

“Fine.”

It’s not even your answer you think shocks him the most. It’s how little he had to argue with you to agree.

You want to roll your eyes at the little smirk of satisfaction he gives himself, knowing you’ve gone 0-2 on your hardened stance of despising Frankie’s guts since talking with your dad. It only stings more that you’re sure Frankie is getting endless amounts of satisfaction that you’ve given into him so quickly.

But fuck, if you didn’t miss that stupid, goofy grin of his when he knows he’s beaten you at your own game.

“Only if your car isn’t gonna kill us first before we get there.” You groan, eyeing down Frankie’s beater truck he’s been driving since he got his license. It was in questionable shape over a decade ago, you’re not sure what kind of deal Frankie made with the devil to keep the hunk of junk up and running.

“She’s fine. Haven’t managed to kill you in her yet, have I?” Frankie rebuttals, grabbing his tools as you follow behind him towards his car.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything.” You sigh, shaking your head in annoyance that Frankie’s still driving this damn thing on principle alone, “How the fuck is this thing even still running?”

“‘Cause you don’t give her enough credit. Got me here from North Carolina just fine.” Frankie scoffs, the two of you settling into your perspective seats inside his truck.

His comment makes you frown at your lap as you buckle your seatbelt, not because of the sass he’s inflicted, but because it reminds you that he’s moved himself states away just to further the distance between you two.

“S-sorry, it was meant to be a joke.” Frankie mutters, looking over at you as he drives and noticing the way you’ve gone quiet, eyes peeled to the ground.

“No, I know.” You reply back, anxiously digging under your nails with your stare still locked on your feet. “How’s um- how’s North Carolina?”

“Oh. Um, It’s uh- It’s fine, I guess.”

It’s then you notice Frankie’s realized the reason for your silence, uncomfortably fidgeting in his seat and grip tightening around the steering wheel as he processes your disappointment.

It’s hard to decipher what he means by “fine.” Fine, like he’s more than fine and doesn't want to rub it in your face how well he’s doing? Fine, like actually a normal amount of fine and he just has nothing of interest to report? Fine, like he’s not fine at all, but doesn’t have the balls to admit it to you?

With the way he can’t bring himself to look at you, it has to be the first or third option. You’re not sure which one is worse.

You’re also not sure why you feel so compelled to find out.

“You still uh- doing um, mechanic stuff for the Army?” You ask, glancing over just enough to watch Frankie’s fingers drum against the steering wheel.

“Yeah. Helicopter maintenance, mostly.”

It’s still not enough to give you the definitive answer you’re looking for. You’re too stubborn for your own good to just quit while you’re ahead. Because of all the questions you could have asked him, the one you ask him next is like voluntarily putting a gun to your head and asking him to shoot.

“Are you, uh- you um, seeing anyone? Samantha, or whatever her name was?”

It’s the first time he locks eyes with you since you’ve gotten in the car. Frankie looks you up and down, tongue running across the top of his teeth under his lips and raising his brows just enough to let you know you’ve got his attention.

Every second of silence that lingers before his answer only leads you to believe he’s trying to let you down slowly before he has to pull the trigger. You brace yourself for the bullet.

“No. I uh, shit- I- Sarah and I broke up a while ago. After um, after Santi’s wedding, actually. No, I um, I’m not seeing anyone. Haven’t really been since then, I guess.”

Your body stays tense, still bracing yourself for the inevitable blow, but it never comes. Not only has Frankie taken his finger off the trigger, he’s put away the gun all together. You’re so stunned you’ve made it out of the question alive, you aren’t quite sure how to react.

“O-oh. I uh- I didn’t know.”

“Are- are you? S-seeing anyone?” He stutters, the words heavy in his throat as he gulps.

“No. After how things ended with Liam, I just- I haven’t either.”

It’s uncomfortable, the silence that fills the car and seeps between you. Not quite awkward, not quite upset, not quite relieved, either. It’s heavy, like a backpack full of bricks you’ve had strapped to your shoulders that you refuse to put down- you’d rather keep burdening yourself with the weight than just take it off, too used to the ache it spreads to every inch of your body.

Maybe, the silence is so uncomfortable because you’re starting to realize how stupid it is to let these types of things keep weighing you down.

Holding a grudge won’t make you any happier. It won’t change what happened, either.

You’ve been so lost in your own head, you’d barely even realized the car had come to a stop, the soft orange and pink glow of The Parrot’s Nest sign illuminating the inside of Frankie’s truck with muted neon snapping you back to reality.

Your hand wraps around the door handle, ready to break free into the parking lot before Frankie’s voice stops you.

“What time are you done?”

You look back over your shoulder, taken aback.

“Why?”

“So I can pick you up.”

It’s so matter of fact, like he had never contemplated any other option from the moment he’d offer to drive you, his soft, brown eyes sinking as you shake your head at him.

“Frankie, it’s fine. I can have someone else drive me ho-”

“Please?”

Your head wants to say no. It wants to push open the door with a half hearted “thanks for the ride” and pretend like the past 15 minutes had simply never existed, wiping the strange pang in your chest and swirling in your stomach from its memory.

Apparently, your heart’s decided it has other plans.

“I’m done at ten.”

“Then I promise to be back here at ten.”

Frankie Morales is a man who’s broken many things.

Your heart, your trust, your friendship.

But out of all the things Frankie has broken, he’s never broken a promise.

And that’s how you know at ten o’clock sharp, you’ll find his beat up Chevy in the parking lot of The Parrot’s Nest, waiting for you.

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Moth To A Flame | JJK & KMG | 02

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Female!Reader x Kim Mingyu Genre|tags: Idol!au, series, established relationship, infidelity, lots of angst, lots of drama, smut, fluff. Word count: 10.6k Rating: Explicit adult content (MINORS DNI). Chapter warnings: Mentions of BTS hiatus and the military service (yes, it’s a warning), mentions of reader being older than Jungkook (just a couple of months), domestic af, SMUT, oral (f receiving), fingering, petnames, explicit language. If there's more, please let me know. A/N: Chapter three will probably be released at the end of december. At the moment, I’m focusing on something I think you’ll really enjoy, and I want to finish it as soon as possible, which will leave me with little time to edit chapter three. Anyway, enjoy reading! Tags: @mansaaay, @nbjch05, @nejiiiiiiii, @cherrylovescheol, @ninigyuuu, @roseki, @callmemadhatter, @rosewithlxv17, @amandatrain

Summary: Four years ago, you crossed paths with a charming member of the K-pop group Seventeen during their tour stop in Osaka. The two of you shared three intense, unforgettable days before life took you in different directions. It was painful for both of you, but you knew you couldn’t take things any further and had to say goodbye. Now, back in Seoul for good, you’re in a new relationship with another idol: Jeon Jungkook—whose charm and stability make him everything you thought you wanted. You are very much in love with him, and as your connection deepens, it feels like your life is finally falling into place. That is, until you meet one of your boyfriend’s best friends and are stunned to discover it’s the same man you fell for in Osaka all those years ago. As buried emotions resurface and secrets begin to unravel, you find yourself torn between these two men, caught in a whirlwind of love and conflict, testing the boundaries of loyalty and the choices that could change everything.

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It was early in the morning when you found yourself in Jungkook’s kitchen with Bam at your heels, preparing breakfast for the two of you. From where you stood, you could hear the sound of water running and Jungkook’s voice belting out a perfect high note from the bathroom, filling the entire apartment.

You moved around the kitchen with ease, the familiar surrounding comforting as you scooped rice from the cooker and moved it into two bowls on the counter. Bam, ever the eager assistant, watched you closely, his thin tail wagging as he caught the scent of Jungkook’s mom's kimchi leftovers from last night when you opened the container.

“Are you hungry, Bamie?” you asked playfully, giving him a gentle scratch behind his ears. As if he understood you completely, he responded with an enthusiastic bark, making you laugh. “Just a minute, buddy.”

A whole week had passed since the night you met Jungkook’s friends, and consequently, a whole seven days since you’d last seen Mingyu. Since that night, you simply hadn't allowed yourself to think about it at all, not wanting to waste a single minute reliving his words or his reactions to your presence, or even the way your body had responded to his.

You've filled every second of your day with work and Jungkook, not giving yourself time to process the events of last week. You chose to completely bury the feelings from that night, convincing yourself that staying busy was the best way to cope.

The rush of photoshoots, meetings, and moments like this, preparing meals with Bam at your feet, the routine and domestic life with Jungkook has kept you from overthinking everything—and so far, it has been working perfectly well for you and your anxiety around the subject.

The only times your thoughts drifted back to Mingyu and that night at the restaurant were when you tried to summon the courage to tell Jungkook everything.

On the nights when you were alone in your apartment, lying in your bed and staring at the ceiling, you weighed the idea of coming clean to him, of laying everything out in the open, hoping he’d be able to understand. Yet, each time you got close to letting the truth spill out, the words seemed to vanish from your brain before they managed to escape your lips.

Maybe it was the fear of shattering the world you’d built together, losing him forever, or turning nothing into something. You just knew that whatever it was, the mere thought of losing the peace you had with Jungkook felt like more than either of you could bear. So, you let the conversation slip away and bury it once again.

But every now and then, in your quietest moments, you feared even more that the dam you’d built around your emotions might crack sooner than later. You were so afraid Mingyu would be braver than you and decide it to tell Jungkook everything, the thought simply gnawed at you, knowing you had no control over it.

So far, he has been silent. Very much different from your mind, that was still tangled with questions you didn’t feel ready to confront yet. Although, before you even could allow yourself to find the answers to them, you decided it would be better to push all the thoughts about Mingyu away.

You told yourself that whatever had happened, whatever had flickered to life in that brief moment with Mingyu that night, was insignificant. It was easier this way, to concentrate on Jungkook and your relationship, to keep your world with him simple and untouched by secrets or memories from your past.

Why risk igniting questions or insecurities over something you were convinced had no relevance in your future?

Besides, even after everything that night, you still felt no need to look back or reconsider your relationship with Jungkook. There was no reason to dwell on fleeting moments, feelings or people you had long since moved on from.

Right?

As you were setting the food on the small kitchen dining table, you could hear the gentle hiss of the shower shutting off, signaling that Jungkook was done and would join you in a couple of minutes.

You poured the freshly brewed coffee into your two usual mugs, the aroma mingling with the scent of kimchi and rice, making your stomach rumble. At the same time, Bam let out a soft whine, his eyes flicking from the bowls to you, clearly hoping for a bite.

“You’re so hungry, aren’t you?” you leaned down to kiss the dog’s head, voice shifting to the soft, affectionate baby tone reserved exclusively for him. He licked your face in response. “Yes you are, my baby.”

You got up again and made your way down the length of the pantry toward the cabinets where Bam’s food was stored. He trailed behind you eagerly, his tail wagging when picked up on what you were going to do, his excitement growing with each step you took.

Quietly, you moved around, passing neatly stacked jars and spices until you reached the right cabinet, shaking the package slightly to tease him. Bam's tail wagged furiously, another whine escaping him as he danced around your legs.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, baby,” you chuckled, crouching down to scoop out his breakfast in his bowl. The sound of kibble hitting his bowl was music to his ears, and he immediately dove in, devouring the meal like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

"Is your eomma being mean to you, Bamie?" you heard Jungkook’s voice behind you, sensing his warm presence close by. “Does appa need to punish her?”

Looking over your shoulder, you found him leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his bare chest, his abs on full display, droplets of water still clinging to his skin. His dark hair was a damp mess, falling into his eyes, and yet he looked absolutely radiant, a perfect blend of boyish charm and irresistible allure. His posture was calm, peaceful, completely different from the tense one he had carried so often these past few days.

So much has been on his shoulders lately. The past few weeks had been a blur of busy days and late nights with BTS latest comeback, and though Jungkook tried his best to keep his energy up, you could sense the weight of the things he was carrying floating in the air between the two of you.

You caught the strain in those brief moments when he thought you weren’t watching, because, not so unfortunately for him, you were always watching, just as he did with you.

You noticed it in the subtle signs he couldn’t quite hide—the sadness lingering in his eyes, the tension in his shoulders, the rare moments when his smile didn’t quite reach those warm, sparkling doe orbs, the pauses mid-sentence as though he was carefully weighing what he could reveal to you. Everything was there and you could see it perfectly, because you knew him like the back of your hand.

You respected his need for privacy, of course, but it hurted your heart to see him bearing his struggles with the way the media was handling the news of BTS hiatus all on his own. And as if that wasn't enough, there were the on-going conversations about military service and the pressure of his up-coming solo projects.

Everything had left you wishing you could share the weight of his burdens, to let him lean on you the way he so effortlessly allowed you to lean on him.

You’d tried encouraging him to open up, reminding him he didn’t have to go through it alone. But Jungkook had a way of steering the conversation away from his worries, brushing off your concern with a gentle kiss, a reassuring smile, a quick joke, or a change of subject, as if he were trying to convince you that everything would be fine, forgetting that it was actually him who needed that reminder.

You’d never push him; you knew Jungkook well enough to know he would talk when he was ready. So, for now, you decided to keep things positive and light, to be his summer Sun, a respite from everything else in his life.

Which meant not thinking about Mingyu and not thinking about the past.

Watching Jungkook, seeing the effort he put into maintaining his usual brightness lately, you decided that this subject could wait—Jungkook's happiness was more important than anything else.

You watched as Bam, mid-chew, paused to glance between the two of you, his tail wagging in earnest now that both his favorite people were in the same room.

Jungkook walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.

“You know you’re just jealous because I’m his favorite,” you scoffed at him, looking down at the dog, your tone of voice shifting again. “Right, Bamie? Who’s your favorite?”

Bam barked once and rubbed his head on your legs as if confirming your statement, and Jungkook let out a dramatic groan, throwing his head back.

“Traitor,” he muttered, but you could see the way his eyes crinkled with laughter. “You like pretty girls who give you treats, huh?”

You laughed, leaning back into his embrace. “Well, if you wagged your tail like he does, maybe I’d give you treats too.”

“Careful, I just might,” he whispered into your ear, his voice low and playful. “Good morning, doll.”

“Good morning,” you replied, your smile widening as he nestled you even closer into his warmth, you both walking back to the kitchen like this. “How’d you sleep?”

His fingers slowly started to trace gentle patterns along your hips. "Perfectly, with you here,” he planted a kiss on your shoulder. “How long have you been awake?"

"Not long," you said with a shrug. “My bio clock woke me up earlier than usual, so I took the opportunity to prepare breakfast early.”

Jungkook hummed softly in response, pressing another kiss to your shoulder, his lips lingering against your skin as if he couldn’t bear to pull away. “Feeling anxious?”

You pouted, nodding your head. “Just a little bit.”

“How is your day looking?” he asked, brushing your hair to the side so he could rest his head on your shoulder.

"Busy,” you answered with a soft sigh, leaning into his touch. “I’ve got (G)I-DLE’s Yuqi’s photoshoot for Elle’s July issue, lunch with my brother, and later in the afternoon, that meeting with the head of Hybe’s fashion department.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow, his thumb brushing lightly against your hip bone. “Wow, look at you, all busy and important,” he said, his voice dripping with playful admiration. “Did they tell you why they contacted you during the phone call?”

“No, they didn’t give much detail,” you explained, turning to face him fully and wrapping your arms around Jungkook’s neck as his immediately founding their way to your hips. “Just said it was urgent and that they’d explain everything in person. Something about a group, but I didn't quite catch it.”

Yesterday, you received a call from Hybe’s fashion department requesting a meeting with you at the company building this afternoon. You were in the middle of changing models outfits for the magazine photoshoot in a spot with poor reception, and you could barely make out what the woman on the other end was saying. All you’d understood was that it was urgent and had something to do with one of their group's demands.

The email wasn’t much more informative, simply stating that you had an interview scheduled for today with Kim Injae, the head of the department, and it left you unsure of what to expect or how to prepare for the meeting.

You watched as Jungkook tilted his head, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “A group? What do you think they meant by that?”

“I’m not sure,” you admitted, a small frown forming on your face. “Maybe they want me for a collaboration or a campaign?”

He leaned back slightly, his dark eyes deep in thought. “Could be,” he murmured. Then his face lit up, a grin spreading as if he’d reached a brilliant conclusion. "Do you think they will bring you back to work with us?"

Your eyes widened at Jungkook's suggestion, and you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. "Highly doubt it. We both know why I left, and I don’t think they’d want to revisit that."

It wasn't that simple, even though you wish it was. Hybe was a very strict company when it came to the line between personal relationships and professionalism. You being with Jungkook was exactly why you’d stepped away in the first place. You doubted they would give you the position back now that the lines were already blurred.

Jungkook tapped his fingers lightly against your left hip, his thoughtful gaze never leaving yours. Then he raised one hand, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as he stared at you with a knowing look.

“Well, Soobin told me last week that TXT was looking for a new stylist. Maybe you’re it.”

Your breath hitched slightly at the suggestion. The possibility had crossed your mind, but you’d pushed it aside, not wanting to place expectations.

“I don’t know. It’s possible, I guess,” you shrugged. “I hate being left in suspense. It could be something big or it could be nothing at all."

You weren’t much of a fan of suspense, and the lack of information they’d provided was making you anxious. It wasn’t as if this was your first job interview or anything new in your field. Still, an inexplicable sense of premonition crept into your nerves, and you couldn’t quite figure out why.

Trying to shake off the unease that was building in your chest, you let out a slow breath. It didn’t make sense to be so on edge—after all, you’d been in this industry for long enough to know that these things were par for the course.

“All I know is that it’s urgent, since they stressed that they needed to see me today.”

“It’s something big, I’m sure,” Jungkook encouraged you, planting a kiss on your temple and intertwining his fingers with yours. “You’ve been killing it lately, so it wouldn’t surprise me if they wanted to work with you on something major.”

You just loved the way he was your number one fan, always encouraging you no matter what. A smile crept onto your face at his words. “You really think so?”

His expression softened. “I’m sure of it. Whatever it is, you’ve got this. You’ve done this job before, and you’re damn good at it. They’d be lucky to have you back.”

His words made you smile, easing some of the tension in your chest.

“I just wish I knew what to expect.”

“Do you want me to investigate? I'll call Namjoon hyung and—”

You laughed, cutting him off with a shake of your head. “No, absolutely not. You are not calling Namjoon to dig around for me.”

Jungkook’s lips curved into a mischievous grin. “Why not? He owes me for covering for him in the last practice.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile. “As tempting as that sounds, I think I can handle this on my own. Besides, the last thing I need is for them to think I’m sending you in as my spy.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, untangling your fingers to raise his hands in mock surrender. “But if you change your mind, just say the word. My investigative services are always available for you, free of charge.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You offered him a small smile, pressing your forehead against his. "And I appreciate the vote of confidence. It means a lot knowing you've got my back.”

“Baby, I’ll always be right here to celebrate your wins, no matter how big or small.” His voice was calm but firm. He squeezed your hand, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles.

Your heart softened again at his words. "Thanks, Kook," you said quietly, meeting his gaze. "That means a lot."

"Always," he replied simply, his voice steady and sincere.

Sometimes, you wondered if leaving Hybe to preserve your relationship with Jungkook had been a terrible decision. But it was moments like this that reminded you the reason why you didn’t regret it for a single second. He would always be your choice—again and again.

“Oh, man!” he groaned, throwing his head back. “I'm going to have to warn those kids to stay the hell away from you. Yeonjun is a charmer!”

You snorted, shaking your head at Jungkook’s dramatic reaction. “Oh, please. I’ll be there to work, not to be swept off my feet by some gen z heartthrob.”

He crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I’m just saying. Yeonjun’s a smooth talker, and if you’re not careful, he might try to charm his way into your good graces. I know how those guys operate. And since when do you think he's a heartthrob?"

You rolled your eyes, leaning forward to poke his chest. “Are you jealous, Jeon Jungkook?”

“Me? Jealous?” He scoffed, though his ears turned a suspicious shade of pink. You couldn’t help but smile at the slight whine in his tone. “I’m just being protective. Big difference.”

“Right,” you said, drawing out the word teasingly. “Well, you don’t have to worry. I’m immune to charm when it comes to work. Plus, I already have someone way more charming than Yeonjun could ever hope to be.”

Jungkook tilted his head, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Oh yeah? Who’s that?”

You grinned, running your fingers through his still damp hair. “This buff tattooed dude I know.”

He let out a soft laugh, pulling you closer by your waist, the heat of his bare chest warming you through the shirt you were wearing—his shirt.

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm. Besides, I don’t even like younger guys.”

Jungkook chuckled, eyebrows arching as his gaze sharpened with amusement. Pulling you even closer, he teased, “Oh, really? You do realize I’m four months younger than you, right?”

With a soft laugh, you brushed strands of hair from his forehead, feeling his arms tighten around you.

“The only exception."

A quiet groan escaped him as he leaned into your touch on his face, his shoulders relaxing as your fingers gently threaded through his hair, eyes slowly closing.

“Good. Because I was about to say, I’m pretty sure I’ve already ruined you for anyone else.”

You rolled your eyes again, your laughter filling the kitchen. “Cocky much?”

He smiled genuinely with his lips almost closed, only the upper front teeth showing, his cheeks pushing up and nose wrinkling a bit, making your heart squeeze in love. His eyes stayed closed, but his expression was unmistakably Jungkook, full of fondness and something so inherently him that you couldn’t help but stare, savoring every detail of his face. It was your favorite kind of smile on him.

"Well," his voice low and teasing as he lifted your left leg to hook on his hip, pressing your back to the kitchen island. “I like the idea of being the only one in your life.”

You bit your bottom lip, suppressing a smile, your heart thudding against your ribs as Jungkook’s words sent a thrill through you. His fingers tightened slightly on your thigh, holding your leg firmly against his hip, his body pressing you deeper into the counter.

You shook your head, letting your fingernails trail along his jaw. "Pretty sure you already are, you know, since I’m in love with you and everything."

He peeked at you with one eye, a playful grin tugging at his lips. Then he fully opened his eyes—those soft, doe-like eyes sparkling as his tongue teased his lip ring. His gaze lingered on yours for a moment before dropping to your lips.

“I love hearing that.”

"And you know," you murmured, tilting your head to the side, your voice breathless as your hands traveled up his chest. "I’m already yours."

His eyes darkened, a pleased smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah?” he whispered, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “Guess I just like reminding you.”

Before you could respond, Jungkook’s hand found the back of your neck, his fingers threading gently through your hair as he closed the little space between you and captured your mouth in a kiss. His lips claimed yours, lifting no room for hesitation, only raw, unfiltered need. You responded instinctively, arms wrapping around his neck again as his tongue slipped between your parted lips, his mouth exploring yours with an intensity that sent heat straight through you.

The way he kissed you—like he was starving, like you were the only thing he ever craved—made your mind spin. You wanted nothing less than to be devoured by him.

Jungkook moved with purpose, hands skimming down your back until they landed on your hips, his fingers gripping with just enough pressure to pull a quiet gasp from you. In one smooth motion, he broke the kiss and lifted you, setting you onto the counter, his body fitting between your legs as if it belonged there. Now at eye level, he looked into your eyes for a heartbeat, his own dark and searching. His hands slipped under the hem of your sleeping shirt and then his mouth was on you again, trailing down your jaw to your neck, leaving a line of warm, open-mouthed kisses that made you shiver.

Your head tilted back, breath hitching as his lips continued their slow exploration down your throat. The way his fingers traced your bare skin sent a shiver through you, your nipples hardening instantly, and you could feel his smile against your neck, clearly amused by the effect he had on you.

His fingers danced just shy of where you desperately craved his touch, teasingly tracing the curve of your breasts without quite making contact. Each barely-there caress sent sparks of desire racing through your veins, and you could feel his growing hardness pressing against you, igniting something primal deep within.

Heat pooled inside you as his hands tightened around your waist, anchoring you against him. You rolled your hips instinctively, drawing a low, guttural groan from him that reverberated between your kisses and sent a throbbing ache straight to your core.

Your hands found their way to his chest, feeling the firm planes under your fingers as you held him close. He let out a low, appreciative hum, your lips meeting again as you draw his lower lip between yours to feel the cool press of his piercing against your mouth. That was all the encouragement he needed to collide your lips completely, holding you steady as he took the kiss deeper.

His hand slid up your thighs, their warmth igniting your skin as they circled your waist before settling possessively on the soft curves of your ass. The sensation sent a thrill through you, and his hand, still resting on your ass, pulled you closer, pressing your clothed clint against the hardness of his crotch and making you moan.

“Kook, fuck…” you cursed against his lips, fingers curling into his hair, wanting him closer, wanting more.

When his fingers started to travel south, you could already feel your panties soaked and sticking to your pussy. The effect Jungkook had on you could probably be studied by experts and still, no humanly explainable answers would be found.

“Are you wet for me, doll?”

Jungkook's voice was low, a teasing edge to it that sent a shiver down your spine. You knew it was a half rhetorical question, because not much later his thumb hooked under the edge of your lacy panties and moved them aside to check it himself.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a whimper, but it only made his smirk grow wider.

“I asked you a question,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “Are you wet for me?”

Slowly and deliberately, his fingers parted your slick folds, his touch both teasing and tempting. His thumb hovered over your clit, not quite touching, just lingering there, driving you wild with anticipation.

Your breath hitched, and you nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Fuck, yes!”

“Good girl,” he said, his tone dark and dripping with satisfaction, starting to rub your clit nice and slow. “Such an obedient little doll. Always so wet for me.”

A shiver coursed through you as his thumb circled your most sensitive spot, sending waves of pleasure through your body. When his first finger slipped inside you with ease, a soft moan escaped your lips. When he added a second, stretching you just enough to make your head spin, your breath hitched, voice trembling as you moaned his name again.

“God, how are you so tight?” he asked, not waiting for an answer. His voice was low and rough. “So perfect for me. Just for me, yeah?”

Jungkook's dark eyes never left yours, watching your every reaction closely as his fingers worked you with a precision that left you breathless. He wasn’t asking you a question, he was making a statement and you knew it: you’re his and no one else.

His thumb circled your clit again in quick movements, while his fingers curled inside you, hitting just the right spot with each thrust.

“Baby,” you gasped, your voice breaking into a needy cry as he found that perfect spot deep inside you, sending a surge of ecstasy through your trembling body.

“Feels good, doll?”

“So good, Kook. Fuck!”

Your hands gripped his shoulders as ripples of bliss rolled through you. His name fell from your lips like a prayer again and again, each moan driving him further into his focused rhythm. His pace quickened, his movements more insistent as he watched every reaction your body gave him.

Your back arched, and your breath came in short gasps, the tension inside you coiled tighter and tighter, every nerve alight with anticipation. And then he stopped, pulling back just as you teetered on the edge.

A desperate whimper escaped your lips.

“Kook, what—”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and teasing, his breath warm against your skin. “Calm down,” he murmured, his lips curving into a wicked smile. “I want to taste you. Lay down for me, baby.”

Jungkook’s command sent a rush of lust through you, leaving no room for hesitation. You leaned back against the counter, your body already trembling under his intense gaze as he dropped to his knees in front of you. His hands gripped your thighs gently but firmly, spreading them more apart as he trailed kisses along the sensitive skin.

He leaned forward, his breath ghosting over your core and you couldn’t help but gasp. Hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties, he pulled them down slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. The tension in the air was thick, each second stretching into an eternity as he took in the sight of you laid bare before him.

“Do you have any idea how gorgeous you look like this?” he murmured, his voice and eyes thick with desire.

Before you could even respond or shy away under his gaze, his jaw parted, and his pink tongue darted out, licking a bold stripe from your entrance to your clit with deliberate, agonizing precision.

A curse and a moan escaped your lips, your body arching into his touch. Your hands slid under the oversized shirt you wore, desperate to grasp your neglected breasts, fingers tugging at your sensitive peaks.

Your image makes Jungkook’s hands tighten their grip on your thighs, pulling you closer to his eager mouth and you gasped, a surprised yelp escaping when you slid down slightly on the counter beneath you.

A breathless laugh tumbled from your parted lips but melted into a new moan as his own wrapped around your clit, sucking it hard. The cold press of his piercing against your sensitive skin sent a delicious shiver through you.

“Jungkook,” you whimpered, voice trembling. “So good, I–”

Jungkook swirled his tongue, letting you feel the precision of his attention. One of your hands tangled in his dark hair, tugging hard and making him groan, vibrating against your clit. The sensation was so overwhelming that for a moment, your breath escaped you, mind consumed entirely by the pleasure he gave you.

“You taste so sweet,” he declared against your core, his voice rough. “I could have this everyday for breakfast.”

As his finger slowly slid back into your dripping heat, his lips and tongue worked together, lapping at your clit to coax your body into pure relaxation. The pleasure was intoxicating, and you couldn’t stop yourself from rocking your hips against his face and the rhythm of his finger going in and out of you.

When his middle finger joined in, your mind dissolved into pure bliss. Jungkook’s tongue traced a sinful path again, licking you up and down, savoring every drop of your slick. He sucked greedily at your folds before returning to your bundle of nerves, flicking it just enough to make your walls clenched tightly around his fingers, drawing him deeper, your body completely at his mercy.

“Gonna cum, baby. Fuck!"

“Let go for me, doll,” he urged, his voice low and commanding.

The pressure built steadily, your body trembling as the coil in your stomach tightened, ready to snap. Jungkook seemed to sense it, his pace quickening as he focused on the spot that made you cry out, your body writhing beneath him.

His hands slid up to hold your hips in place as your body shook above him, and with one last flick of his tongue, your release finally hit, crashing over you like a wave, consuming every part of you in its intensity.

Your cries echoed through the kitchen as your body shook uncontrollably, every nerve ending alight with sensation. He held you through it, his hands firm and reassuring as he lapped up every bit of your pleasure, savoring you like you were his favorite meal.

When you finally came down from the high, he pulled back, his lips glistening and his eyes dark with satisfaction. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, leaning up to press a kiss to your inner thigh. “I’ll never get enough of you.”

Jungkook began to trail soft kisses up your belly, his lips brushing against your skin with a tenderness that made your breath hitch slightly again. Your hands instinctively found their way back to his hair, your fingers threading through the dark strands, combing them carefully as his mouth continued its slow way up.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, his voice gravelly with affection. “I love having you’re here.”

His lips were warm and soft against your skin, lingering at the curve of your waist, breath hot and comforting against your ribs as he nuzzled closer.

“I love being here,” you replied, melting into him once more.

You felt Jungkkok smiling against your skin, his hands slid up your sides, his touch firm but reverent, like he was memorizing every inch of you.

“I love mornings like this and you're so good with Bam. Having you here… it feels right,” His voice held a quiet sincerity, his gaze warm as he looked up at you. “Like this is exactly where we’re supposed to be.”

You felt your heart swell at his words, matching his tender expression. “I know what you mean. Being here feels like being home.”

You closed your eyes, fingers tightened in his hair as he kissed higher, his lips brushing just beneath your collarbone. Junkook smiled again, his hands shifting to cup your cheeks as he leaned in to capture your swollen lips again. The kiss was slow, deep, and filled with a yearning that made your heart ache.

As he pulled back, his thumb traced your jawline, his gaze searching yours. “Let’s make this our thing, every day.”

“What do you mean?”

“Move in with me.”

“Alright everyone, let’s take fifteen!”

Those were the exact words Mingyu needed to hear from Hoshi right now, causing everyone else in the room to let out groans of relief as they immediately dropped to the floor.

Mingyu himself let out a long exhale, running a hand through his damp hair, waking to a corner of the practice room and watching as the mirrors lining the wall reflected his restless expression, sweat glistening on his forehead and neck.

He grabbed a towel and dabbed it against his face, trying to catch his breath as he sat down on the wooden floor, away from the rest of the members. As usual, the room buzzed with casual chatter and the sound of sneakers scuffing against the floor as the others stretched or joked around.

Mingyu, on the other hand, remained silent, leaning against the wall with his gaze fixed on his hands, completely locked in thought. His chest heaved with fatigue, his shoulders sagging slightly.

It wasn’t just the practice that had drained him. No. The physical exhaustion was manageable, something he’d long grown accustomed to.

The problem was that no matter how much he tried to focus on the rehearsals, on the music, the choreography, the shouts of encouragement from his members, in the fact that the first show of the tour was getting closer and closer, his mind kept drifting back to you—to the silence that has been haunting him since that night a week ago.

It was exhausting.

All Mingyu wanted was to talk to you, to make sense of everything that happened since the day you parted ways at Kansai International Airport to the moment you saw each other again in that restaurant. He wanted to understand how you were suddenly back in Korea now and, most important, of all the people in the world, how you ended up becoming Jungkook’s girlfriend.

What kind of sick twisted joke was the universe trying to play on him?

He simply couldn't understand.

Additionally, you had said to him that you would think about talking, but a week had gone by, and nothing.

Seven long, torturous days, and still, his phone remained silent. Every time it buzzed with an unknown number, his heart would lurch, hoping it was you, but it never was. He didn’t even know why he expected you to try to contact him, or how that could possibly happen, since you didn’t exchange numbers.

Yet, despite everything, he still held onto the hope that you would.

So far, all he’d gotten from you was silence and it was killing him, making him absolutely restless. He hated himself for it, hated how he’d become the guy waiting around for a message that would probably never come. It was pathetic, really.

He rubbed a hand over his face, frustration gnawing at him. Part of Mingyu wanted to reach out to you first, to demand an answer, even though he wondered how he could even do that.

He didn't even know if you had told Jungkook yet. Were you planning to tell him? If you already had, how did he react? Was he angry with Mingyu now? Was he angry with you? What did it mean if you hadn’t said anything? Should he have been the one to say something to his friend?

He had so many questions swimming around in his brain and he just wanted to find answers to them.

The other part of him, however, was too afraid of what he might hear.

What if your silence was already the answer?

Mingyu rested his arms on his knees and lowered his head, letting out a bitter, quiet laugh, shaking his head as if he could somehow remove the thoughts from his mind.

Why do I even care? he thought to himself, even though he already knew the answer very well.

Goddammit.

He hated how much power you still held over him, how even now, after all this time, you had the same effect on him as you did four years ago. How he found himself stuck, unable to move past the hope that you’d reach out, that you’d say something—anything—that would prove he hadn’t been a complete fool for waiting for you to show up again all these years.

“Alright, man,” Minghao’s voice cut through his thoughts as the red haired man settled down next to him. “Spill it. What’s up with you today?”

After days of watching Mingyu zone out during practice, Minghao couldn’t hold back any longer. He’d noticed his friend's unusual restlessness during this week’s rehearsals—his gaze darting around the room, his mind clearly elsewhere. Mistake after mistake on his moves, even on the simplest parts of the choreographies, and Hoshi had been scolding him every five minutes to get things right.

It wasn’t like Mingyu to be so distracted; he usually approached every song with relentless focus, always going the extra mile to ensure every move was perfect, especially with a tour just around the corner. So, of course, something was wrong with him; Minghao just couldn’t figure out what it was.

He mimicked Mingyu’s kicked out puppy posture, looking at him with his eyebrows arched.

Mingyu glanced over, his expression caught between irritation and reluctance, but the look quickly softened when he noticed who was sitting next to him.

“What do you mean?” he asked, though his tone was more deflective than curious.

“Don’t play dumb with me,” Minghao replied, nudging his friend’s shoulder with his own. “You’ve been off all week. Something’s definitely on your mind. So, what’s going on?”

Mingyu blinked, finally realizing he hadn’t masked his mood as well as he’d thought. He straightened, a faint forced smile appearing on his face as he shrugged it off. "Nothing,” he muttered, but even as he said it, he knew it was a lie. Minghao clearly wasn't buying it either.

"You’ve got that look on your face," Minghao said, waving his hand in front of Mingyu's face. "The one you get when you’re carrying something heavy. Come on, talk to me."

Mingyu let out another sigh, running a hand through his hair and wiping his face with the towel again, leaning his head back against the wall.

“Just a lot on my mind. You know how it is.”

Minghao nodded slowly, his head tilting as he watched his friend carefully. “Yeah, I do. But usually, you’re one of the members keeping the rest of us calm. What got you rattled?”

Looking away and glancing over at his members, laughing and messing around the room, Mingyu hesitated. He wanted to brush it off, to tell Minghao it was just the anxiety pre-tour, or that he was tired. But he knew Minghao better than that. His friend had an irritatingly sharp sense for when things weren't right, and Mingyu didn’t have the energy to lie anymore.

Except that he couldn't tell the truth either.

So instead, he chose to be evasive.

“Just… life stuff,” Mingyu said finally, trying to keep his tone light, though even he knew it sounded forced.

“Family stuff?” Minghao pressed. He shook his head no. “Did you fight with one of the members?”

“No.”

“Girl problems?”

Mingyu rolled his eyes, but he didn’t deny it. Instead, he let out a slow breath, tossing the towel onto the ground and rubbing the back of his head—why did he suddenly sound like a fifteen-year-old?

“Something like that.”

Minghao’s eyes narrowed the way they always did when he was trying to see straight through Mingyu’s defenses. He tilted his head again, studying him for a small second, then gave a small, knowing smile.

"Oh?" he faked gasped, leaning back on his hands. "You? Having girl problems?"

Pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes, Mingyu groaned. “Can we not call it that?” he muttered, but even he couldn’t keep the frustration out of his voice.

Minghao just laughed softly. “Alright, alright. Let’s call it... romantic confusion. Better?”

Mingyu let out a reluctant chuckle, dropping his hands to his knees.

Ironically, it was actually the perfect way to describe his current situation.

“You make it sound like I’m a teenager, but sure, whatever.” He paused, taking a deep breath and hesitating again for just a moment before gathering courage to ask, “Have you ever had someone just… show up again in your life, out of nowhere?”

“Someone important, I’m assuming?” Minghao asked back thoughtfully, a hint of intrigue in his face.

Mingyu nodded but offered nothing more.

Then Minghao decided to venture, an amused gleam in his eyes now. “So… I’m assuming that ‘something like that’ has something to do with a girl from your past that is now back.”

Mingyu stilled, jaw clenched ever so slightly, considering whether he should even respond to it. But he was the one who had allowed the conversation to go this way in the first place, he might as well respond to Minghao's question.

He shrugged, watching his reflection in the mirror as if might offer him a better answer. “Maybe,” he finally admitted. “It’s complicated.”

“Isn’t it always?” Minghao chuckled slightly. “But to answer your question: no, it’s never happened to me.”

There was a pause as they both watched as Seokmin dragged Chan across the room by his legs, the rest of the members laughing to a joke they’re both unaware of. The silence stretched between them until Minghao shifted as if preparing to ask a question he’d been holding back, his curiosity far from satisfied.

Mingyu could feel the shift in Minghao’s posture, the way his friend leaned just a little closer, eyes flickering with that signature curiosity that always meant he was about to dig deeper. The background chaos of the practice room continued—Chan was now flailing dramatically while Dokyeom cackled, and the other members egged them on—but to his surprise, it all felt distant.

“Can I ask you something?” Minghao finally questioned, his tone soft but very probing. “Not related to this.

Mingyu met his gaze, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he sensed something coming. “Go ahead.”

Minghao seemed to hesitate for just a second, his voice dropping a notch. “What really happened to that girl from Osaka? I know you said she was unattainable once, but four years it’s a long time, man.”

Mingyu exhaled, trying to mask his shocked expression, wondering why Minghao was bringing that up now—four whole years later. Though he suspected it was no one’s fault but his own. He hated how he was an open book with his feelings, and hated how easily Minghao could read him. He’d spent years avoiding this question, brushing it off whenever his friends brought it up. But now, with everything coming back so suddenly, it was getting harder to ignore.

He ran a hand through his hair again, his fingers tugging at the roots as if that might somehow pull the words out of him. “Well, for starters, she’s no longer unattainable.”

Minghao’s eyebrow arched in surprise. “Why do I sense a but coming?”

Mingyu let out a humorless laugh. “But she’s now completely off-limits.”

He hadn’t realized how much he’d been carrying until the words left his mouth, how the weight of it all felt like was pressing his chest.

Of all things, he couldn’t help but feel selfish for barely acknowledging, even after these seven days, the full weight of this fact: you were now off-limits because you were with someone he cared deeply about—someone he would never risk hurting.

He watched as Minghao studied his face for a moment, the significance of the confession settling between them. The noise of the practice room seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the tension of their conversation hanging in the air.

“What do you mean, ‘off-limits’?” Minghao asked quietly, his eyes never leaving Mingyu’s. There was a softness there, an understanding. “I thought she had disappeared.”

“She did,” Mingyu's voice was barely a whisper when he answered. “Didn’t think I’d see her again.”

Mighao watched him with a mixture of surprise and sympathy. “But now she’s back?”

Mingyu nodded, his jaw clenched.

“It’s her, isn’t it? The someone importante who’s back in your life?” When Mingyu didn’t say anything, Minghao pressed on. “What’s stopping you now?”

Mingyu swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the floor. “She’s... she’s with someone else now. Someone who... well, let’s just say it’s not exactly someone I can compete with.”

Minghao stayed serious for a few seconds, staring at Mingyu with a contemplative expression. Then, suddenly, he burst out laughing, as if Mingyu had just told the funniest joke in the world.

“You’re bullshiting me. If anything, this someone else is the one he can’t compete with you.”

“It’s not just about competing with someone else,” Mingyu said, his voice tinged with frustration and defeat. “It’s about competing with someone I care about deeply. Someone I would never hurt. Ever.”

Someone he couldn’t hate even if he wanted to, he taught.

Minghao’s eyes widened slightly as he leaned back, his lips quirking up into a faint smile, though there was no humor in it.

“Ah,” he said simply, the weight of Mingyu’s words sinking in.

Mingyu had spent hours, days, months, and years imagining what it might be like to see you again—to touch you, hold you, kiss you, and finally ask the question that had haunted him since the day you vanished from his life. Every single one of these scenarios painted in his mind with a romanticized curiosity.

And yet, no amount of daydreaming could have prepared him for the cold, harsh nightmare of reality. When the moment finally came, it felt like he was the butt of the world’s cruelest joke. Everything he’d built up in his mind crumbled in an instant, the weight of shattered expectations burying him beneath the wreckage.

Jungkook was one of his closest friends—hell, one of his best. Their bond had been forged through years of trust and loyalty, long before the day he saw you. To Mingyu, Jungkook was more than a friend; he was practically family.

But he still couldn’t help but think that it was unfair; he had seen you first.

“Well,” Minghao’s voice broke his thoughts again. “I just don’t think you can sit there and pretend you haven’t spent the last four years waiting to see her again.”

Mingyu took a deep breath, turning his gaze away to watch the other members across the room as they bantered and laughed, feeling as though he’d just been punched in the stomach. Minghao’s words carried an honesty he wasn’t sure he was ready to face.

The worst part was that there was no way you didn’t hear his friends laughing and joking at how he had spent the last four years waiting for you to come back.

And even then, a week has gone by with you in complete silence.

It was like he had been transported back to the moment he realized that no matter how much effort he put in, finding you wouldn’t be as easy as he had hoped.

He exhaled through his nose, his voice low and bitter when he finally spoke. “What good would that do, Myungho?” he muttered, his eyes still fixed on the scene in front of him but not really seeing it. “Waiting doesn’t mean anything if the outcome’s already decided.”

“Maybe not. But waiting says a lot about how much she matters to you.”

Mingyu let out a hollow laugh, shaking his head.

“And what does that matter now? She’s with someone else. End of story.” His voice cracked just slightly on the word someone, and he cursed himself for it.

Minghao’s expression softened, but there was still a sharp edge to his words. “If it were really the end of the story, you wouldn’t still be sitting here, torturing yourself over it.”

It was because, for him, it wasn’t. Not really.

Since that night in the restaurant, memories kept flooding back—flashes of laughter, stolen glances across the hotel bar, long and late night conversations in the quiet of the hotel room. He’d spent three days with you, but those moments had burned deeper than some entire relationships he had before. And then… nothing. You were gone, and he’d convinced himself he could just move on.

His silence spoke volumes to Minghao.

“So… answer my first question. What happened between you two, really? Why’d it end in the first place?”

“That's the worst part; I don’t even know, man," he started, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. "She told me she was moving here and we decided we would give it a try once she was settled. But on the last day, she disappeared."

Minghao nodded slowly, waiting for more, his silence encouraging without being pushy.

Mingyu continued, his voice growing softer. “After looking for her everywhere I could, I thought... if I let her go, it’d be easier. For both of us. I mean… maybe she disappeared by her own choice, you know? I even asked Daeho hyung for help to find her at the time, isn't that ridiculous?”

He could still remember how stupid he felt when he asked their former manager for help. He felt even more embarrassed when he was scolded for focusing on things he shouldn’t have—distractions, as Daeho liked to call them—rather than focusing solely on Seventeen’s career.

Stopping for a second and closing his eyes, Mingyu let out a shaky breath, as if releasing the weight of the memory.

“But as you know, I couldn’t let it go, no matter how much I told myself to,” he laughed, but it came out hollow. “Every time I thought I was moving on, something would remind me of her. It’s pathetic, really.”

Minghao frowned, his gaze steady but kind. “It’s not pathetic, man.” He leaned forward slightly, his tone serious but gentle. “It looks like you never got any closure.”

“I didn’t. And now that she’s back…” He paused, his jaw clenching as he fought to steady his emotions. “It’s like everything I tried to bury is crashing down on me all at once.” Mingyu shook his head, dragging a hand through his hair in frustration. “And the worst part? I can’t even hate her for leaving. Not when I don’t know the whole story.”

“Maybe that’s what you need, then…” Minghao said, his expression thoughtful. “ to find closure.”

Mingyu looked at him, his shoulders tense, the vulnerability in his eyes raw and unguarded. “And what if the closure doesn’t change anything? What if it just... makes it worse?”

“Then at least you’ll know. At least you’ll have an answer. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll finally be able to move forward.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” But even as he said it, the uncertainty lingered, heavy and unresolved.

His gaze swept across the room, taking in the other members, until it landed on someone he had almost overlooked: Vernon, sitting in a corner, fidgeting and lost in his own thoughts.

Mingyu already knew what was on his mind; it had been the topic of discussions all week—the possibility that his girlfriend, the latest, and now former, Seventeen main stylist, might be fired for having a personal relationship with someone she worked for.

They had been accidentally discovered by the company’s fashion department supervisor last week. Since then, the group’s stylist position had remained vacant, with only a few days left before their tour began. Vernon was just as restless as Mingyu, haunted by guilt over what had happened while the company discussed under the covers his girlfriend’s future.

Mingyu wanted to help him, but his own muddled thoughts left him incapable of offering any support.

“Look, Gyu, I know it’s a tough situation,” Minghao said gently. “But be honest with yourself. You don’t have to rush into anything, but if she really matters to you, don’t let fear, or anything else, stop you.”

For a moment, Mingyu just stared at Minghao, his friend's words hanging in the air between them. He hated how Minghao always had a way of cutting through the noise and getting straight to the heart of things.

"You don’t have to figure it out all at once, man. But don’t lie to yourself about how you feel. She’s already here, right? That’s gotta mean something.”

With that, Minghao stood up and made his way across the room, heading toward Vernon, leaving Mingyu to process alone the weight of his words in the quiet that followed.

You smoothed the fabric of your blouse again, trying to calm your nerves as you stood in the sleek conference room. The floor-to-ceiling windows framed a breathtaking view of the city, but it did little to settle your anxiety. The weight of anticipation hung heavy in the air, and the buzz of your thoughts traveling back to the events of this morning only grew louder with every passing second.

You had been waiting for a few minutes, and the girl sitting at the table outside the room had already come in three times to offer you coffee. Finally, you politely accepted, hoping it would stop her from coming in and looking at you nervously.

Not that you wanted to be alone. The last thing you needed right now was to be alone with your thoughts, replaying Jungkook’s gaze when you left the kitchen this morning. But at the same time, if she wasn’t planning to start a conversation that could distract you, you didn’t want to be faced with that glazed look that would only make you anxious.

When the door clicked open again, a tall, sharp-suited woman stepped in this time, clipboard in hand. She offered you a polite smile and you immediately stood up, offering a slight bow to the woman as you returned her warm smile.

“Thank you so much for joining us on such short notice, Miss Kang,” she said as she approached you, extending her hand. “I’m Kim Injae, the head of the department.”

You shook her hand, her grip firm but not overpowering, the kind that transmitted confidence without arrogance. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Kim. Thank you for having me.”

“Oh, honey, please, drop the formalities and call me Injae,” she said warmly as the two of you took your seats acroos from each other by the glass-top table. Her tone softened slightly, though her professional edge remained. “I’m sure you’re wondering why we called you here today.”

You offered another smile, folding your hands in your lap.

“The thought did cross my mind, yes,” you admitted, keeping your tone light despite the undercurrent of curiosity—and, admittedly, nervousness—that you felt.

Injae leaned forward slightly, her well-manicured hands resting elegantly on the table, as she opened the folder she brought with her. If there was one way to describe her, it would be like staring at a brunette, Korean version of Donatella Versace—elegant, sharp, and undeniably commanding.

“Well, we’ve been following your work for some time, Y/N. When Hyejin brought you in last year to work with the Bangtan Boys, we were really impressed with you,” she paused, her sharp gaze meeting yours. “We would have liked to keep you with them as their lead stylist, but given the personal circumstances between you and one of their members, we couldn’t.

Your stomach dropped slightly at her words, though you kept your expression neutral. Have you been called here to respond to a disciplinary lawsuit?

It couldn't be. Two months ago, when you deliberately decided to quit your job here so you could stay with Jungkook without having to hide your relationship, it was still a secret. The two of you only came clean when you were no longer associated with the company or BTS in an employment capacity.

And luckily for you, it was right at the time when Elle Magazine Korea offered you the position as their editorial stylist, so everything ended up working out perfectly.

Deep down, you knew that you loved working as a tour stylist and designer more than anything else, second only to your dream of designing your own clothing brand. Which is why the decision wasn’t as easy as you made it seem at the time.

“I understand,” you replied carefully, maintaining your professionalism. “It was an incredible experience, and I’m grateful for the opportunity I had.”

Injae nodded, her expression unreadable as she leafed through the pages carefully. “It’s unfortunate when personal and professional lines blur,” Then she stopped for a second, looking back at you with a smile. “But the heart wants what it wants, right?”

Her words lingered in the air, a delicate balance between acknowledgment and understanding. You felt your cheeks warm slightly but maintained your composure, offering her a polite smile in return.

"I guess so," you admitted cautiously, unsure of how much to reveal.

“That being said, I do recognize talent when I see it,” Injae said, keeping her tone steady. “and you, Y/N, are undeniably talented. Which is why we’re sitting here today.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you processed Injae's words, feeling yourself relax in the chair now that you knew you weren't being prosecuted or punished. She had a way of being direct yet warm, and her casual remark made your stomach flutter with hope.

Still, you held your composure, giving her just an appreciative smile. “I’m honored to hear that, honestly.”

“You study at Central Saint Martins, right?” she asked, fixing her glasses on the tip of the nose. You simply nodded and she continued. “That’s amazing. And not only that, I’ve gone through your resume before and I must say, your experience is impressive.”

Injae’s words washed over you, her tone carrying a mixture of admiration and curiosity that made you sit a little straighter, your head held high with humble pride. You knew exactly what your accomplishments in your chosen profession were, and no one was prouder of them than you. Still, it wasn’t every day someone showered you with compliments like this, listing them off with such genuine admiration.

So you managed another polite smile, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you nodded once again and she carried on, leaned forward and resting her elbows on the table.

“It’s amazing that at such a young age, you already managed to work with multiple international artists and you were even responsible for making the big brand ambassadors.”

Her words made another flush of pride rise in your chest, though you maintained your professional demeanor. “Thank you so much, Injae. I’ve been fortunate to work with some incredible teams and artists.”

“Fortunate, yes,” she agreed, “but talent and hard work don’t go unnoticed, and yours is evident.”

Injae’s sharp gaze softened just slightly, and she tapped a perfectly manicured finger on the glass table.

You inclined your head slightly in gratitude. “I’ve always believed in pushing boundaries and challenging myself. Fashion is constantly evolving, and I love being part of that evolution, creating pieces that not only reflect it but provide it to others.”

“Precisely,” Injae said, her approval evident. ”It’s why I believe you’re the perfect fit for the spot that recently appeared in our department.”

“I’m honored that you think so,” you said earnestly.

Her lips curved into a small smile, and she leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other. “For obvious reasons, you can't work with BTS. Which I assume you already know.”

“Yes,” you answered, almost whispering, remembering yourself to take a deep breath each time you were reminded of the consequences of your choices and the reasons you had made them in the first place.

Injae’s smile widened just a fraction, the glint of intrigue in her eyes. “But, that doesn't mean you can't work with any other group in the company.”

Your heart skipped a beat for a second, anticipation swirling inside you as her words hung in the air like a hopeful promise. You straightened in your seat once again, your fingers lightly grazing the edge of the polished table to hold yourself together from bursting with excitement over something she hadn’t even said yet.

“One of our groups recently lost their lead stylist,” she began, her tone now practical. “And we need someone with experience, creativity, and adaptability. Someone who can handle the intensity of a global tour while elevating their image and branding. In short, we want you to fill the spot.”

Your heart raced against your ribcage as her words echoed in your mind, leaving no room for doubts. The implications were clear: this could be your chance to step back into a role you’d thought you’d left behind—a role that allowed you to do what you loved most. This wasn’t just a job, it was a massive opportunity.

“Oh, wow,” you said, overwhelmed, carefully trying to keep your tone steady and not squeaky. “It means a lot to me, being recognized like this.”

Injae smiled warmly, her sharpness softening just a fraction. “You’ll be the lead stylist, which means that you’ll also be the one setting the tone, overseeing an entire team of stylists, designing the group tour outfits and getting brands to collaborate with the artists,” she explained. “It’s a leadership role, and it’ll test your ability to balance artistry with management.”

You nodded again, the gravity of her words settled over you, the enormity of this opportunity both thrilling and daunting. This was more than anything you had ever done or dreamed before.

“Their tour starts in two weeks,” she said, continuing her explanation, looking down at the pages in front of her again. “Don’t worry, though, most of the pieces are already finished, and just some of them still need to be finalized, adjusted, and selected. After that, they’ll have a month off, and you’ll have plenty of time and resources to make any changes or create whatever you feel is necessary.”

Your mind was already spinning with possibilities. Two weeks to finalize styling for a tour was tight, but it wasn’t unfamiliar territory. “It is a tight schedule. But I’ve worked under similar constraints before. I’ll make it work.”

“I had no doubt you would,” Injae replied with confidence. She closed the folder in front of her with a decisive snap, then leaned forward slightly. “That’s why you’re here. But that's not all. I’ll have my assistant email every detail and everything that will fall under your responsibility as the lead stylist. As well as the contract and an overview of the team and current wardrobe inventory.”

You nodded, your mind already spinning with anticipation and plans. “Thank you. I’ll review everything as soon as it comes through.”

She paused for a moment before continuing, her tone softening. “Y/N, I know stepping back into this world might feel like stepping back into the past actions, but I trust that you’ll use all of your experience, both personal and professional, to excel here.”

You couldn’t ignore the double meaning in her words. Though your chest tightened slightly at the thought of past entanglements, you focused on the opportunity ahead.

Besides, what were the chances of finding yourself in a situation like the one before? You were happy with Jungkook and weren’t looking for a boyfriend or anything else in that area.

As you’d said before: he was the only exception.

“Of course,” you said sincerely. “I won’t let you down.”

“Good,” Injae said simply, her tone cool and authoritative. “Because this group isn’t just any group, they’re at the peak of their careers, and the eyes of the country are on them. Your work will define part of their image, and in turn, their legacy.”

“I understand,” you replied, meeting her gaze directly. “May I ask what group we are talking about?

A hint of amusement flickering in her sharp gaze, realizing that she had forgotten the most important part. “Oh, did I not mention?” she tilted her head slightly. “Are you familiar with Seventeen?”

If you liked this feel free to let me know with a like, reblog, comment, whatever you prefer! ❤️

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aayakashii · 1 day ago

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Finally managed to finish this fic 🧘🏻‍♀️ this one is for the members of Haku Gfs Club™️ @ghoulspaw @kusanagihaku and @pinkaditty

I just gave it a read so it's not properly edited – I apologize if there are too many mistakes in it ;-; I'm not super satisfied with this one, but I hope you guys like it <3 Also, it's a standalone, so there will be no continuation!

The title comes from a Florence+ The Machine song, Addicted to Love.

might as well face it

You never really knew why Haku didn't frequent Rui's bar. And honestly, you never thought of asking either. Among the thousands of secrets every ghoul always kept from you, that one seemed innocuous enough for you to ignore.

So, when Rui called you at 3am on a weekday, you would never guess he would ask you to escort Haku back to Hotarubi.

“Sorry, doll, you're the only one I can ask to help me with this.” Rui's voice sounded sincerely apologetic. “There's no one else here in the bar, I promised Lyca I'd help him with his homework – and you know how he gets when he's expecting something – and Subaru isn't answering his phone.”

You shrugged, as you changed out of your pajamas.

“I mean, it IS late at night and he’s way more responsible than us. But what happened to him?”

“Oh, you know.” You imagined Rui waving his hand dismissively. “Hakucchi can't hold his liquor very well. He's wasted.”

You pursed your lips, trying hard not to laugh. The thought of the most nonchalant and aloof man you knew tripping on his own feet amused you more than it probably should.

“And why can't he stay in one of the rooms like Haru does sometimes?”

Rui sighed loudly.

“He's adamant on going back to Hotarubi. I'm trying to keep him here for a little longer because I'm worried about him just crashing and sleeping in the middle of Obscuary's woods. Who knows, he could legit die on his way back.”

It was your turn to sigh loudly. A dull headache was slowly forming in the back of your head.

“Okay… I'm going.” You grumbled as you made your way outside of your dorm and into the chilly night. “He's lucky I wasn't asleep yet.”

“Thank you, cutie, I owe you one and Haku will owe you his life~” Rui made a sharp kissing sound on his end of the line, quickly hanging up before you could have any change of heart.

And after a hurried walk towards Obscuary and sincere apologies from Rui, you ended up trudging through the campus with a very much inebriated, heavy, limp-bodied Haku leaning on your shoulder – his sultry voice murmuring nonsensical things in your ear as you suppressed a shiver from going down your spine.

His breath smelled like one of Rui's sweet, sparkly drinks – the ones you drank when you didn't want to wake up the next day with a mean hangover.

Haku really was extremely lightweight, it seemed.

“You smell so good” Haku murmured, nuzzling your head as he leaned all his weight onto your body, feet dragging clumsily on the ground.

Not only were you struggling not to trip and fall headfirst onto the asphalt, bringing a grown man down with you; said grown man made the task all the more difficult as he kept on shamelessly flirting with you.

“Haku, please, can't you help me a little bit here? Try to walk a bit too, come on.” You grunted, pushing him away from you, only to have him throw his arms around your shoulders once more.

“But it feels so good like this.” He murmured way too close to your ear and you gritted your teeth, shutting your eyes tightly in order to keep your thoughts from going to places you really didn't want to visit.

Haku's breathy, silky voice had always been your worst and weakest point. Sometimes you wondered if he knew it, consciously or not. If he did, it would definitely explain how he always sounded just a little bit more husky, just a little bit more sultry whenever you two were alone.

“I can't carry you properly like this, though?! Look, we're already at Hotarubi. Try to walk just a little bit longer, please?” You huffed and puffed, the exertion and the warmth of his body overpowering the cold night and causing you to break a sweat.

“Hmm…” he hummed before rubbing his cheek against your hair, then sighed. “Okay… but just because it's you who's asking.”

Haku straightened his back as much as he could, slinging just one arm around your shoulder, and stumbled inside his dorm. You finally managed to breathe properly, relieved of all the dead weight he had been putting on your shoulder.

Still, you navigated through Hotarubi's slippery corridors quite poorly as Haku's head hung low and he blinked slowly, fading in and out of a drunken sleep while you dragged him to his room.

Once inside, you watched with an amused and exasperated look as Haku stumbled towards his futon, letting himself fall heavily onto it, face down, with a loud groan of someone who subconsciously knew he'd very much regret his choice to drink afterwards.

You wiped the sweat off of your forehead while you walked towards him.

“Sit up just a little bit. You can't sleep with your uniform like this.”

He shuffled on his bed, slowly propping himself on his elbows.

“Trying to get me out of my clothes, are you, Honor Student? How bold you are. Thought you'd ask me out for dinner first.” He murmured with a smirk and half-lidded eyes.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose and pushing all of your confusing emotions away. You would not deal with your feelings right then and there. Not when Haku was so obviously out of his mind.

“You can't sleep with your blazer otherwise you'll wrinkle it. Unless you're a Frostheim bourgeois who has a whole collection of these expensive ass blazers. If not, you need to take it off.” you said, exasperated. You held out your hand, motioning for him to give you his clothes.

He raised his eyebrows and nodded slowly, as if you had said something incredibly wise. You very much knew how expensive those blazers were after seeing how careful Kaito was with his. You wouldn’t let Haku just ruin his uniform.

He clumsily took off his blazer and handed it to you.

“You know, rumor has it that I might have been, in fact, a Frostheim bourgeois.”

You were trying so very hard not to notice the scent of sandalwood that clung in his blazer as you hung it on a nearby chair, that you almost didn't pay attention to the little gem of information he seemed to be offering to you. Almost.

“Well... Were you?” you asked with one eyebrow raised.

He grinned mischievously, putting a finger on his lips and shushing loudly. You rolled your eyes at his drunken antics as you scooted closer to help him out of his vest and tie.

“Sit properly so I can help you out of this vest and necktie.”

He pouted, rolling his head back. The sharp pops of his neck made him grimace.

“I think… That you’re enjoying undressing me.” he smirked as his head hung to the side. “You can always do this, you know, you just have to ask.”

You fidgeted in your position and pressed the heels of your hands on your eyes. You rubbed your face, trying hard to erase the tingling feeling on your cheeks and ignore his unabashed flirting.

‘He’s drunk. He’s just fucking drunk’ you chanted in your mind and took a deep breath.

“I’m just trying to help you not ruin the most expensive parts of your uniform, you dumbass.” you muttered, avoiding eye contact.

Haku threw his head to the other side, placing a hand over his heart as if you had just physically hurt him.

“Oh, how cold, Honor Student.” he sighed, head still limp as if he couldn’t hold it upright, but began to shuffle in place as he sat properly on his futon.

You held your breath while you opened his vest as fast as you possibly could, ignoring the heaviness of his gaze. He blinked lazily, eyes scanning your face and your hands as you fiddled with his buttons and then moved to loosen his tie.

You tried not to notice how he licked his lips when you pushed the vest out of his shoulders, but the gooseflesh that pricked your skin was proof that you failed.

“Hey.” He called out to you, voice hoarse and low - the type of voice you had always imagined he would have during early mornings, right after waking up, when his golden eyes would still be glossy with sleepiness.

You shook your head, pushing the thought away, and got up to place his vest and tie on the chair, right on top of his blazer.

“Yes?” you asked, straightening imaginary wrinkles on his clothes only to avoid his eyes.

Haku paused for a moment, as if waiting for you to turn around to look at him. When you didn’t, he took a deep breath and leaned back on his elbows once again.

“I'm so in love with you.” He murmured with a lazy smile on his face and his eyes closed, as if he had just told you the most obvious thing in the world.

You closed your eyes as your breath hitched and your hands curled into fists, gripping the fabric of his uniform tightly and undoing all your efforts of keeping it pristine and straightened.

Despite yourself, you felt a giddiness bubble inside your stomach. You wondered how many nights you’ve spent imagining scenarios in which he would say that exact thing.

Scenarios in which you actually deserved him saying such things while sober and not an overly-affectionate drunk.

You were quiet when you kneeled besides his feet to untie his laces and take off his shoes and socks.

“You hear? I'm in love with you.” He repeated as he nudged you with his knee, opening his eyes for a moment to check if you were actually paying attention. You gritted your teeth, jaw visibly flexing.

“Huh. Is that so.” You answered, bitter and cold, but your dismissal seemed to have gone over his head as he closed his eyes and sighed with a dreamy look on his face.

“Yeah. I love you. So much.”

You shot up to your feet, as if his words shocked you like an electric current, and walked towards his desk to grab his water bottle. You placed it right beside him with a heavy, tired sigh. You really didn't need that at that moment.

“Do you have paracetamol so you can take it if you need it during the morning?”

Haku furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, nose scrunching in a way that he never did while sober. You cursed yourself for thinking he looked adorable.

“Aren't you gonna say anything?” He asked.

“About?”

“I love you.”

You closed your eyes, trying to ignore the leaps of your heart whenever he said those words.

“You're drunk, Haku.” You breathed out, looking at him with exasperation in your voice.

“And…?”

“You're spewing nonsense.” You muttered, dusting yourself off only to avoid his gaze and to keep your hands occupied. “Go to sleep and you'll feel better tomorrow.”

“You don't believe me?” Haku widened his eyes, a tinge of hurt audible in his honeyed voice.

“The alcohol is making you say things you don't mean. Go to sleep.”

“You don't believe me.” Hurt quickly changed to incredulity.

“Good night, Haku. If you need anything, you can send me a message.”

“No, wa-wait.”

Haku quickly tried to get on his feet, but the dizziness still clouded his movements and he ended up tripping, falling on his knees. You gasped and kneeled beside him, eyes trained on his knees that had hit the tatami floor with an uncomfortable thud.

“Are you okay?” You asked, hand hovering over his back.

Haku slowly turned his head towards you. His golden slitted eyes glinted with something you couldn't quite understand.

“Why don't you believe me?” He murmured.

You opened your mouth, then closed it – no words made their way out of your lips.

God fucking dammit.

How could you even begin to explain to him all the reasons why you couldn't believe in him – but mostly how you couldn't believe in yourself – no matter how much you wanted to?

“Do you think I would lie about something like that?” He narrowed his eyes, looking at you as if you had broken his heart.

“I don't.” You found your voice after long, uncomfortable seconds. “I just think you're letting the alcohol make you believe things that aren't true.”

He shook his head vigorously and you couldn't help but think that it probably made his dizziness a lot worse.

“I wouldn't let some alcohol make me confess my love for anyone else.” he grasped your hand with a lot more force than you were expecting him to have. You tried to pull it away, but his grip was that of steel.

“Please… go to sleep.” you felt your throat tightening and a pressure behind your eyes.

“I've thought of you every single moment of my days ever since I saw you. You don't get to dictate how I feel just because you don't feel the same way as I do.” his brows furrowed again, sudden aggravation taking up his features.

You almost gasped. Haku never got angry at you, not even when you were a lot to handle, nor when you made his life a bit harder. What an irony it was that the first time would be while he was confessing.

“That's not what this is about.” you shook your head.

“Then what is it?”

You felt your bottom lip quiver slightly. You quickly bit it hard, in order to keep your emotions at bay, ducking your hand down and shutting your eyes tightly.

You briefly regretted taking Rui's call. Opening the can of worms that was your feelings for Haku was probably one of the last things you wanted to do late at night, in the middle of the week. You had spent too much time closing that can very tightly, vacuum sealing it and stashing it in the depths of your mind, only to have all your effort ruined in mere minutes.

Haku placed his other hand on your cheek, gently tilting your head back up. You kept your eyes shut.

“It's okay if you don't love me.” He murmured, the same tinge of sorrowful acceptance in his voice as the one you usually heard when he talked about his family. “It won't change how I feel. I just want to know from your mouth.”

“Haku…” your eyelids fluttered.

“Just say you don't like me. Look me in the eyes and say it. And I promise I'll leave you be.”

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. His pupils were blown out and you could barely make out the golden ring of his irises. He looked at you with an adoration that could genuinely make you sick.

“I can't.” you whispered and leaned into his touch.

“Then-”

“I can't just doom you, Haku. I can't take you down with me. You can find someone better, someone who deserves you. Someone who isn't cursed.” you blurted out, the words flowing freely from your lips now that the dam had been broken.

“Don't say that.”

“But it's true. I would… I would love to let you love me.” At that, his eyes opened wide and you could almost see hope forming deep inside them. “But I can't, in good conscience.”

Haku leaned in, resting his forehead against yours.

“Why?”

“It would be selfish of me. What if I die from my curse? You'd be hurt.” You gulped, shaking your head and backing away from him. “And worse, what if I hurt you if I become a monster?”

His hand, still gripping yours tightly, pulled you back close to him. His eyes were wide, wild, searching yours.

“And why would any of this matter?”

You blinked, confused.

“What?”

Haku scoffed, as if you were being absolutely stupid. As if you were the drunk one.

“I already love you. I don't need your permission to feel my feelings. Even if you kept me at arm's length, it wouldn't change how I feel.”

You were quiet as he grabbed your other hand and held both of them tightly against his chest. You could feel the loud and fast thump of his heart against your skin.

“And if you let me, we can look for a solution together. Worst case scenario, we'd be together for less time than I wished for. But any time with you would already be perfect.” He rested his forehead against yours once again. “Even if it was just a second.”

God. Zenji was right when he said Haku was a charmer. Your breath hitched in your throat.

“I wouldn't say this kind of thing to just anyone, though. Not sober, nor drunk. I can only say it to you.” he added, finally.

Your shuddering breath was the only sound between the two of you as you allowed his words to sink into your brain.

Deep down, you knew your hesitancy was never because of his drunken state, although it still kept you on your toes. As much as you were aware that your fears were the main source of your insecurity, a small part of you was still terribly afraid of him forgetting it all in the morning.

You felt his breath get heavier and deeper for a few seconds before Haku hurriedly shuffled onto his feet and stumbled fast towards the balcony of his room, which hovered just a few inches over Hotarubi's lake. You winced when you heard the muffled sounds of him throwing up.

After a few minutes, he dragged his feet back to his room, looking ashamed and terribly disheveled.

“Are you okay?” You asked, handing him his water bottle.

“I'm sorry.” He said, voice raspy after the strain. He took long, big gulps of water before sighing loudly.

“It's okay.” You chuckled, leading him towards his futon. “Go lie down and sleep. Please?”

Haku eyed you with utter indignation.

“We will continue our conversation tomorrow.” he stated, seriously, but finally relenting to your request. You nodded, sighing.

“Yes, yes, we will. Now go lie down, okay?” You pushed him gently, helping him as he tried to get on top of his bed.

“And I will repeat every word I said to you in the morning when I'm completely sober just so you can't say I'm lying.” He continued while you fluffed his pillow and helped him get under his covers.

“Even if I have a huge headache and feel like shit, I will repeat everything.” He muttered, eyes quickly getting heavy as you finished tucking him neatly into his bed.

You couldn't help but smile as his eyes so quickly grew heavy with sleep, while still mumbling incoherent things.

“Good night, Haku” you whispered.

Between long, heavy blinks, he turned his head towards you.

“I love you.” He whispered one last time, before finally letting sleep wash over his body.

Your heart twisted inside your chest – a mix of fear, apprehension and excitement bubbling in your chest and your stomach, that could make you scream. Instead, you watched as his breathing got deep and even, before gently pushing his hair away from his forehead.

You leaned in, placing a faint kiss on his forehead, inhaling the comforting scent of incense that followed him wherever he went.

Against his skin, you confessed.

“I love you too.”

#tokyo debunker #haku kusanagi #tokyo debunker haku kusanagi

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mariacallous · 15 hours ago

Text

Not long after the November election, new members of Congress gather for a couple of weeks of orientation. Consistent with that tradition, Sarah McBride, a Delaware Democrat, made the short trip from Wilmington to D.C. to meet with her fellow first-termers. At a hotel in the capital, she learned about the lottery for office space, how to assemble a staff, and the intricacies of the legislative process. As the first transgender member of Congress in history, she also experienced an orientation in naked aggression. Within days of her arrival, Nancy Mace, a Republican from South Carolina, introduced a resolution that would restrict access to all “single-sex facilities” on Capitol Hill to those of the “corresponding biological sex.” In other words, Mace sought a bathroom bill—and made clear that she “absolutely” intended it as a reaction to McBride.

“I’m not going to stand for a man, you know, someone with a penis, in the women’s locker room,” Mace, who had claimed to be “pro-transgender rights” as recently as last year, said of her new proposal. She also added an odd, pseudo-feminist twist: “It’s offensive that a man in a skirt thinks that he’s my equal.” Mace found support among Republicans, including Speaker Mike Johnson and Marjorie Taylor Greene, who, according to Politico, told colleagues that she would fight McBride were the two of them ever to meet in a women’s bathroom on the Hill.

Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez was among those who leapt to McBride’s defense, calling the bill “disgusting.” McBride, for her part, refused to take the bait, saying that she would “follow the rules as outlined by Speaker Johnson, even if I disagree with them.”

McBride was born in Wilmington; her father was a lawyer and her mother a high-school guidance counselor. At American University, she was active in Democratic politics and worked on Beau Biden’s campaign for Delaware attorney general. In her senior year, she served as student-body president, and ended her term by publishing a moving coming-out article for the Eagle, the A.U. paper, called “The Real Me.”

McBride had been hesitant to acknowledge her trans identity, she explained, because that might prevent her from pursuing a career in politics. “I wrestled with the idea that my dream and my identity seemed mutually exclusive; I had to pick,” she wrote. In the end, she realized that she would have to embrace both: “My life was passing me by, and I was done wasting it as someone I wasn’t.”

In 2020, McBride was elected to the Delaware State Senate. And this November she was elected to the United States House. At the start of our conversation, which has been edited for length and clarity, she seemed determined to keep her cool, despite the insult she had just suffered. “I think in many ways I got a fuller orientation this week, where I actually got to see not just the nuts and bolts of Congress,” she said drily, “but also some of the performance of Congress, too.”

Well, let’s talk about that. Nancy Mace, one of your colleagues now, immediately came forward and decided that this would be a good time, a perfect time, to introduce a bathroom bill, all directed at you. How did you take this piece of what can only be called aggression?

I always knew that there would be some members of the Republican caucus who would seek to use my service representing the greatest state in the Union in Congress as an opportunity for them to distract from the fact that they have absolutely no real policy solutions for the issues that actually plague this country. And, in some cases, to grab headlines themselves. I was not surprised that there was an effort to politicize an issue that no one truly cares about—what bathroom I use. I did think that it might wait until January. It happened a little earlier than I anticipated. I was still getting lost in the tunnels of the Capitol when we got the news that this was coming.

What was your first reaction to it?

“Here we go.” Throughout the campaign, I really focussed my campaign on my record in the Delaware General Assembly: of passing paid leave, expanding access to health care, and the kitchen-table issues that I know keep voters across Delaware up at night that I will be working on in Congress, like lowering the cost of housing, health care, and child care. But, as I got questions about the added responsibilities that sometimes come with being a first, the first thing I would always say is that I know that the only way I can do right by any community I’m a part of is to quite simply be the best member of Congress for Delaware that I can be, to be an effective member working on all of the issues that matter.

When I was watching this play out on television, reading about it, in the past week or two, I looked up how the first Black member of Congress was received, Hiram Revels. This is in the nineteenth century. He was treated with a great deal more respect than you were. I understand your desire to be poised about this, and straightforward, and to move the issues to the issues you ran on. But I wonder what your emotional reaction was to what you could only have taken as an enormous gesture of deep disrespect.

Look, I’m human, and it never feels good to be used as an opportunity to get headlines. It never feels good to have people talk about deeply personal things. I think I knew what I was signing up for, though; I know what the Republican Party in this country, in Congress, has become.

Which is what?

A party that is more interested in performance art and being professional provocateurs than being serious legislators and a serious governing party. I think they have come to the conclusion that they are able to get enough votes if they occasionally throw red meat to folks, because that red meat might satiate what is an authentic crisis of hope that I think people across this country face right now.

I think we have to be crystal clear in calling them out on what they are doing, and pull the curtain back to really dull the effect that these manufactured culture wars have on the American voter. Some people do receive this red meat, and it resonates with them—it makes them feel better, but it doesn’t actually address the real pain in their lives. And I think we should be calling that out and obviously modelling an approach to governing that genuinely solves the real problems that people are facing that create a level of insecurity and fear that allows for culture wars to satiate at least something instantaneously.

But I truly believe that if we solve problems, if we are serious, people respond. I’ve seen that in Delaware as we have passed paid leave, raised the minimum wage. Voters here in Delaware are sort of bucking this national trend. We’ve expanded our majorities both in 2022 and 2024 in the Delaware General Assembly, I believe, as a byproduct of a record of results that voters are responding to, and a message focussed on kitchen-table issues and economic issues. And it’s allowed us to not only expand our majorities but to break through the culture wars that the Republican Party has pursued. Because we’re in Delaware, in the Philadelphia media market—we are getting those anti-trans Trump ads pumped into our state like we were in Pennsylvania. And yet, despite that, running on a message of paid leave, higher minimum wage, union protections, a trans candidate not only won here in Delaware but actually outperformed every major Democrat running for major office in Delaware statewide.

And yet the notorious ads that ended with “Kamala Harris is for they/them, President Trump is for you”—ads that were oriented around anti-trans sentiment—not only did they occur, they worked. Certainly, they worked in the interpretation of not only the Republicans but the press at large. They ran them over and over again and poured millions of dollars into them.

So, first off, I think there are two things. One, this country is still entering into a conversation about trans people. This country still is at a Trans 101 spot. And one of the things I think Democrats have to be more mindful of is that leaders should always be out in front of public opinion, but, in order to foster change in public opinion, we’ve got to be within arm’s distance of the public so that we can pull them along with us. If we get too out ahead of it, we lose our grip and we’re unable to pull the public with us.

Is that what’s responsible for your calm in talking about this? I remember very well that Barack Obama, when he was running for State Senate in Illinois, got a questionnaire, and one of the questions was “Are you for gay marriage?” He didn’t say yes. Now, everything I know about Barack Obama tells me that, at that time, a clear “no” was not his real sentiment, but that he didn’t want to get too far out ahead, for political reasons. He clearly changed later on. Is that part of your calculus in the way you talk about this? Because Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez answered Nancy Mace in much more vitriolic terms.

I think there is a space for diversity of messengers and a diversity of message. I would never presume what was in Barack Obama’s heart and mind on the issue of marriage equality. Many people authentically evolved. What we do know is that, as the movement for marriage equality moved forward, the most effective messengers for marriage were not same-sex couples, were not parents of same-sex couples or kids of same-sex couples. The most effective messengers for marriage equality were those who evolved. And they were effective because they gave a permission structure to people who had not yet gotten there that it was O.K. to be uncomfortable, it was O.K. to be on the other side of the issue. You weren’t a bad person; you weren’t wrong.

My motto has always been: I’ll extend grace so long as people demonstrate growth. But that is a two-way street. And I think that we are shooting ourselves in the foot, as people who believe in progress, when we create no incentive for people to grow, because they perceive that they will be permanently guilty for having been wrong. We create no space for them to grow by extending no grace for them to actually walk there. I think one of the reasons why we see people pushed into their respective corners is because you say something that’s deemed problematic, and you are immediately hounded by one side and immediately embraced by the other side. Human nature is to—when faced with that degree of extreme binary reactions—go to the people who are validating you instantaneously. We unintentionally actually push people further and further into their own corners and into their negative opinion by responding with a degree of condemnation and vitriol that creates no incentive and space for them to grow.

But I actually want to say something on those ads, because you did say the key sentence in that ad. It wasn’t the surgery point, it wasn’t the undocumented-immigrant point, it wasn’t the trans point, it was the concept in that line that Kamala Harris, according to the ad, was for a small group of people, and Donald Trump was there for “you.” The lesson of this moment, of this last week, is that we should be flipping that script. Because that’s the authentic thing—Kamala Harris was for everyone. And Democrats are for everyone. And every single time Republicans focus in on a small vulnerable group of people, not only are they trying to distract from the fact that they have no real solutions—not only are they trying to employ the politics of misdirection, to move your attention away from the fact that in that same moment they’re trying to pick the pocket of American workers, undermine union protections, and fleece seniors by privatizing Medicare through the back door—but every bit of time and energy that is diverted to attack trans people, that diverts the attention of the federal government away toward attacking trans people, is time and energy that is not being spent on you. It’s time and attention that’s not being spent on raising your wages or improving your benefits or lowering the cost of living. These attacks have costs. Republicans are focussed on attacking a small group of people, and we are here to actually address the issues that you care about.

You’ve now had a week with your new colleagues, and I wonder what kind of support, or the opposite, you felt in your orientation sessions after Nancy Mace made the statement she did.

I have been overwhelmed and heartened by the love and the support of my Democratic colleagues. It was stunning. I got to Washington, and I’m at orientation. I’m grateful that I had a week before all of this started, because I had a week to just marvel at the fact that I was there. I had a week to marvel at the fact that I am serving in a body that Abraham Lincoln served in. One of the first nights we were there, we gathered in Statuary Hall, which is the Old Hall of the House, which is where Abraham Lincoln served. And then, after we gathered there, we walked onto the floor of the United States House of Representatives, where they moved in 1857, just before the Civil War broke out. And we sat in the chairs and I thought, This is the space where the Thirteenth Amendment and the Fourteenth Amendment were passed. This is the space where women got the right to vote. This is the space, these are the chairs. This is the job of the people who voted to pass the Civil Rights Act and the Voting Rights Act. And you feel this awesome responsibility, not just to deliver on the tangible policies for the constituents you serve in that moment, but you also feel that deep responsibility as you realize that you are one of a little more than five hundred people who have the responsibility to be stewards of a democracy—of the longest ongoing democracy in the world. That is an awe-inspiring responsibility.

I’m really grateful that I had that opportunity. But what was made that much more meaningful was that in that second week, as all of this noise happened—as I continued to be focussed on the actual work that I was there to do—the love and the support that came in from my Democratic colleagues really reinforced what I had already been hearing, which is that that caucus is a family.

And what about the Republican side? Did you get any support from there?

Yes. Look, there was a lot unsaid, but there was kindness and clear intentionality to say, “Welcome to Congress. It’s wonderful to serve with you.” That was quite a contrast to some of the other behavior we saw that week.

People actually coming up to you from the Republican side and embracing you in one way or another?

Yes. Staff and members.

The Speaker of the House, Mike Johnson, released a statement that said all single-sex facilities are for people of that “biological” sex. You responded to this on X, formerly Twitter (it’s interesting that you’re still on Twitter!), by calling this a distraction and saying that you’ll follow the rules as outlined by Johnson. But what do you say to people in the trans community who think you didn’t go far enough?

I understand that, at a moment where you are scared, you want to see someone fight. I understand that when you are a first, there are a lot of people who never dreamed that something like this would be possible, who are living on that journey with you. And so they feel very deeply the experience of discrimination. They feel very viscerally the experience of disrespect. I think what I would say is, This was not done to bar me from restrooms. This was done to invite me to take the bait and to fight. I am maintaining my power by turning the other cheek and doing what I promised Delawareans I would do, which is to focus on the job in front of me. Yes, when that calls for me to defend my L.G.B.T.Q. constituents, I will do that; when it calls on me to defend workers in my state, I will do that; when it calls on me to defend retirees in my state, I will do that. But I should not be the issue.

You must have anticipated, if not this, then something like it. And of course you are a first, a historical first. Do you face a lot of threats?

I think one of the problems in our politics right now is the level of toxicity has resulted in far too many people seeking to solve political disputes not at the ballot box but through violence. I am certainly not alone in Congress in having to think through that. I think it’s very early. There have been moments throughout my life where I have had to be cognizant. I’ve never had a job where I have not received death threats. Literally, I have never had a job—even when I was in my first, junior-level position.

How do you handle them?

Well, fortunately, we’ve got great law enforcement here in Delaware that I have worked with over the course of this campaign and throughout my time in the State Senate. Look, one of the things that I grappled with when I decided to run for this position is the risk that comes with being a first at this level. Even though I didn’t run to be a first, there’s obviously risk that comes with it. And there was a moment where I almost didn’t do it. Because of the fear.

Tell me about that. Was it a specific incident or just a generalized fear?

There were some rumors about what some far-right-wing groups might try to do, should I run.

When did this come up?

This was before I announced. There was a lot of speculation about me running.

So what within you allowed you to make the leap and declare yourself a candidate for Congress?

A couple of things. First off, I think that we delude ourselves into thinking that people don’t take these types of steps without fear. People aren’t fearless. Bravery only comes into play when you face those fears, when you pursue something despite the fears. I really do believe that we are at an inflection point where we need a politics of grace in this country if we are going to have any chance at not only restoring our capacity to have a national dialogue, which is fundamentally necessary in a democracy, but actually making government work better. I genuinely felt like I had something to contribute in that respect. I think I know how to get things done. I know how to legislate.

But you’re going to have to embody grace—and there’s every sign that you already do—but with a President who says, publicly, something like this: “Your kid goes to school and a few days later comes home with an operation.” That’s the President of the United States, come January 20th. How do you combat that, and all that’s behind it, and embody grace?

I think a couple of things, and I think this extends beyond Donald Trump. So I’m going to step back a little bit. I think Democrats struggle with extending one of our basic principles—which is that no one is their worst act, no one is their worst belief—to people on the other side of the political divide. I’m not talking about Donald Trump right now. I’m talking about Republicans. The question here is not how do I demonstrate grace in the face of Donald Trump; it’s how do I demonstrate grace in a world where people that I work with—where even people that I represent—hold positions and beliefs about who I am that are personally hurtful, potentially.

I think all of us need to do a better job of seeing the humanity of people on the other side of the aisle. Because I think what happens in this country right now is: The left says to the right, “What do you know about pain, white straight man? My pain is real, as an L.G.B.T.Q. person.” And the right says to the left, “What do you know about pain, college-educated, cosmopolitan élite? My pain is real, in a post-industrial community ravaged by the opioid crisis.” And I know that, when I am upset, the worst thing that someone can say to me, even if it is said with the best of intentions, is “It’s not as bad as you think.” Any therapist will tell you that the first step to healing is to have your pain seen and validated. And I think all of us have to do a better job of recognizing that people don’t have to be right in our mind for what they’re facing to be wrong. And people don’t have to be right in our minds for us to try to right that wrong. That comes down to sort of a core recognition that every single person is more than just one thing about them. And every single person is more than even beliefs that might personally hurt many other people. And the other thing I’ll say on that is to a similar point: early on in my career, I went viral for something.

Do you remember what it was?

Ironically enough, I was an advocate. It was a selfie in a bathroom in North Carolina that I was technically barred from being in.

I see.

The vitriol that came back to me as a twentysomething-year-old was so dehumanizing and so cruel and so mean. It was the closest in my life that I have ever been to suicide becoming a rational thought. I wasn’t suicidal, but it was the first moment where I just went, I want to end this miserable experience.

What was coming at you?

I mean just the level of online bullying and harassment. It was amazing to me that people—person after person—telling me to kill myself could actually hurt me. But it was an onslaught. And, again, I was twenty-five. I was new to all this, and I thought, Maybe I don’t have skin thick enough for this. I sort of went on a journey to understand the psychology of trolling and bullying. I think it was a “This American Life” podcast by a writer who talks a lot about her own weight and grapples with her own body image in a really public and vulnerable way, talking about the experience that she had writing about that hurt and getting outreach from one of her worst bullies and trolls online—someone who had created a Twitter account as her deceased father to troll her from—who opened up to her about what was motivating him. And, listening to that conversation, it really helped me internalize a truth that has allowed me to find balance and grace in the face of hatred or cruelty. And that was: Everyone deals with an insecurity. Everyone deals with something that society has told them that they should be ashamed of or that they should hide. And the thing about me is that I have taken that insecurity, that thing that society has said you should be ashamed of and you should keep quiet—and I’ve not only accepted it but I walk forward from a place of pride in it. Bullies see that. They see that individual agency and conquering my own fears and insecurities, and they’re jealous of that. That has allowed me to find compassion for folks who respond to me in sometimes the way that they do, to recognize that I hope, too, they can find the power to overcome whatever pain is plaguing them.

And so much so that when Nancy Mace made the comments that she did, and put forward the bill that she did—are you able to see it in those terms and not receive the attacks with the same despair that you did when you were in your twenties?

Yes. Yes.

That’s an enormous transformation.

I won’t say that it doesn’t hurt, but, yes, I am not distracted in the same way that I was.

“Distracted” is a small word for it. I mean, what you felt in your twenties must’ve been a lot worse than “distracted,” no?

Yeah. I am able to contextualize it and not feel the pain as much. Again, it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt, but I am able to work through it.

How? That’s a very hard thing. Is it therapy? Is it maturation? Is it living in your skin ten years longer? What is it?

I think the last two: I think it’s maturation, and I think it’s just finding a confidence in myself that allows me not to internalize. I really do seek to find compassion for the people who are acting out, who say the things that they do, because that does help me. That does help me to try to see and understand where a person is coming from, even if the action itself explicitly or implicitly is not well-intentioned, even if it’s being done for cynical purposes—to try to understand that there’s still a person behind that and maybe there’s something in their life that has pushed them to engage in the way that they’re engaging.

In a certain number of weeks, you’re not only going to have to hear about Nancy Mace, you’re going to have to work with her. And you talk a lot about “working across the aisle,” which is a phrase that we hear from politicians all the time. This takes on new levels of meaning—“working across the aisle with Nancy Mace.” Can you do it?

Well, I look forward to working with colleagues on the Republican side of the aisle who are serious about the work that they’re doing. Who have disagreements with me, perhaps profound disagreements with me, but who are serious about getting things done.

For the first time in our conversation, I sense you’re reluctant to answer the question directly. With all respect.

I will work with anyone who’s willing to work with me. And I don’t know this individual member of Congress—I had barely heard of her before this. I will never say that anyone is beyond redemption.

I want to zoom out a bit now and talk about your own unique path to politics and congress. Your late husband, Andrew Cray, was an L.G.B.T.Q.+ health advocate and attorney. What kind of work did he focus on, and what of his legacy can be seen in your own political career and direction?

Andy was the kindest, smartest, and—this is very important for me in a partner—the goofiest person that I had ever met. Just a really good and decent person.

How did you meet?

We bumped into each other at a White House Pride reception during the fourth year of the Obama Administration, 2012. After that, he reached back out to me on social media, on Facebook, and he said that he thought we’d get along “swimmingly.” I thought, Who the hell in their twenties says the word “swimmingly”? But clearly someone I want to spend some time with. So we went out on a date, and I fell in love pretty quickly.

Was he already sick?

No. He was an attorney, as you mentioned, working on health policy, and he was actually working on the implementation of the Affordable Care Act. He was a brilliant mind, but also—and I think this goes back to our conversation about grace—he was so principled. I remember we had a debate once where he won me over—where we had a debate about whether it was appropriate to out anti-L.G.B.T.Q. politicians who were in the closet themselves. I was of the mind that their hypocrisy called on us to out them. And he was of the mind that the principle that we are fighting for—that everyone should be able to live their life fully and freely, be able to live their sexual orientation and gender identity, the way they see fit and the way they need to—if that is not an unbreakable first principle, then what is? And principles only matter when you have seemingly altruistic reasons to violate them. He was someone of just immense grace, principled grace.

He got sick about a year into our relationship. He developed a sore on his tongue and went in thinking it was just a benign growth. He had a little minor surgery to remove the benign growth, which was aborted in the middle of the procedure as they realized perhaps that it was something more. About a week later, he was diagnosed with oral cancer. It was a shock to both of us. I mean, we were both young invincibles, something that he had written about as he worked on the A.C.A., right? We never would’ve imagined that cancer would enter our lives in our mid-twenties, but we knew from the very start how lucky we were. He knew in particular, given his work, how lucky he was to have health insurance. And we were both very lucky to have flexibility with our jobs that allowed Andy to get care: a twelve-hour surgery that left him having to relearn how to talk, how to eat, how to breathe. I was lucky to be there by his side to care for him, to suction his tracheostomy tube, to tend to his wounds, to hold his hand through the absolute fear.

And then eventually, when his cancer turned out to be terminal, to be there by his side, to marry him, and to walk him to his passing, which happened a couple of days after we were fortunate enough to get married in our building. My brother, who’s a radiation oncologist, said to me, “I’ve seen a lot of people pass away from cancer. And one thing you should try to take stock of over the weeks ahead, as Andy’s health deteriorates, is that you are going to bear witness to acts of amazing grace that will fill your life.” And truly that grace and those miracles were everywhere. I think it has fundamentally shifted my perspective on the world and my ability to see that grace, to see beauty and tragedy, and to recognize that hope, as an emotion, only makes sense in the face of hardship.

In other words, you’re thinking about him all the time through this?

Yes. Yes.

And what does that do for you?

It makes me feel less alone in navigating this. It makes me feel more confident in what I’m doing and how I’m trying to go about this. There’s certainly things that I wish I could talk to him about and get his perspective on, but I try to take the lessons from our couple of years together and try to draw those lessons into action in this moment.

We began our conversation with you talking about how moved you were to be in the halls of Congress for the first time as a soon-to-be member, and seeing and sensing all that had happened in progressive terms, in liberatory terms, over time and in previous centuries. My guess is that this is not going to characterize the next two years for you in Congress. The Democratic Party, in large measure, will be fighting a rear-guard action against all kinds of initiatives by a Trump Presidency in a Republican Congress. How do you anticipate the coming next two years? What kind of role will the Democrats and you play? What will be your day-to-day life, do you think?

Well, there’s no question that we’ve got our work cut out for us. There’s no question that we’re going to have to push back on a lot of damaging and dangerous policies.

But, look, I think the biggest challenge for us is not that we understand that there’s a fight. And we will do the work. The challenge is going to be to summon the hope necessary to see that fight through. I think that one of the challenges that we have in this country right now, particularly for Democrats, is that, really since the nineteen-sixties, it has felt like if we simply work for it, if we vote for it, if we volunteer, if we share our stories, if we lift our voices, that we can then inevitably bend the arc of the moral universe toward justice. And we felt that, I think particularly, in 2008 and when we elected Barack Obama, and then A.C.A. passed, and marriage equality became a law of the land. It just felt like there was this sort of unfolding sense of great progress.

It feels different right now. It doesn’t feel like, if we simply work for it and fight for it, that change will come, that things will work out. We can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. But the other thing that I thought about, as I sat in that chair on the floor of the House, was about not only the elected officials that served there but all of the advocates and activists and citizens who lived through those different chapters in our country’s history. We have to recognize that that sense of inevitability with hard work that we felt twenty years ago, thirty years ago—that’s the exception in our country’s history. Every single previous generation of Americans has been called to conquer odds much greater than the ones that we’re facing right now. And they had every reason to believe that change would not come. They could not see the light at the end of the tunnel. Enslaved people in the eighteen-fifties had no reason to believe that an Emancipation Proclamation was on the horizon. Unemployed workers during the early days of the Great Depression had never heard of a New Deal. Patrons at the Stonewall Inn never knew of a country where they could live openly and authentically as themselves. And yet they persevered. They summoned their hope, they found that light, and ultimately they changed the world.

The narrative you describe is very, how do I put it—Obamian? It reminds me of Obama’s speech in Selma, the last one he gave there as President, about a kind of parade of American heroic advance. And when I talk to a lot of younger people in my office, in my life, in my family, they don’t all share the sense of determined hope that you do. There’s a good deal of depression—if not giving up, then a kind of sense that these are going to be very dark times to come. And with all the emergencies surrounding us, at home and abroad, and environmentally, it’s very hard to muster hope. As a politician, as a member of Congress, what do you tell them?

You cannot tell me that the reasons for hopelessness now are greater than the reasons for hopelessness of an enslaved person. You cannot tell me that the reasons for hopelessness now are greater than the insecurity and the fear of workers in the midst of the Great Depression, and a country that very easily could have fallen into totalitarianism and fascism, as many liberal democracies around the world were falling into that, in the early thirties.

Hope is not always an organic emotion. Sometimes we have to consciously find it and consciously summon it. And, yes, there are big challenges right now. Maybe those challenges are insurmountable. Maybe we will be, because of social media, incapable of restoring our capacity to have a national dialogue. Maybe because of the culture that we live in right now, we will no longer be able to have conversations across disagreement. Maybe because of unchecked wealth and corporate power, we won’t be able to conquer climate change. The list goes on. Maybe. But we would be the first generation of Americans to give up on this country, and we would be the first generation of Americans who were unable to find the path forward. And I just don’t believe that we are. And I certainly believe that we don’t have to be.

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sherewrytes · 2 days ago

Text

Love and Gunshots, Eren x Black Reader

Gang member Eren x Introvert black reader

Summary: In a dangerous urban landscape, y/n, an introverted Criminal Law student, finds herself drawn into the violent world of the Sixx Gang through her protective cousin, Onyankopon. When she locks eyes with Eren Yeager, a hot-headed gang member, a twisted game of desire and danger begins.

As Eren becomes obsessed with y/n, he threatens to unravel the fragile balance Ony has maintained to shield her from their brutal lifestyle. With loyalty tested and violence lurking at every turn, the lines between love and danger blur, leading to a dark climax where the heart proves just as lethal as a gun.

Genre: Dark Romance/Crime Modern au

Warnings: Graphic violence, drug use, smut, obsession

I’ll re edit this when I’m better, in the mean time happy reading

Taglist: @topshotdivaa @prettypink-princesss @burpzz @niaizzy1623 @jcoleisbetter @msjaeger @hidd3nbimbo @vampimilikis @nova2kss honeydrzzldpeaches

Chapter 4: After Dark

The room was dead silent except for the faint hum of the city outside. My leg throbbed with every beat of my heart, and the sharp, searing pain made it impossible to sit still. I was gripping the couch cushion like my life depended on it, trying to focus on anything but the bullet lodged in my thigh.

Ony sat across from me, his face cold, unreadable. His AR-15 rested against his leg, but it was his eyes that held the real threat. He was always calculated, but tonight? He was on a different level.

I scoffed, leaning back against the couch despite the pain.

“You really shot me, huh? All this over a girl?”

I laughed bitterly, shaking my head.

“Guess I must’ve hit a nerve.”

Ony didn’t say a word. Instead, he stood, walked over, and leaned down. For a second, I thought he might say something, maybe even offer some twisted apology.

But then his hand shot out, and his fingers pressed into the wound in my thigh.

“FUCK!”

I screamed, the pain ripping through me like fire. My hands flew up, trying to shove him off, but Ony was solid, unmoving.

He didn’t let up, his face inches from mine, his eyes dead and cold.

“You think this is a game, huh?”

he said, his voice low, almost a whisper.

“You think you’re untouchable?”

I clenched my teeth, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The room swam in and out of focus, and the only thing I could see was Ony’s face, calm and collected, like he wasn’t driving me to the brink.

Finally, he pulled his hand back, wiping the blood off his fingers onto my face.

“There. Now you look the part,” he said, straightening up and walking back to his chair. He sat down, his AR-15 resting on his lap like a king on his throne.

The door burst open, and Hange strolled in, a large duffel bag slung over their shoulder. They took one look at the scene and sighed. “The hell did I walk into this time?”

Connie, still perched on the edge of the counter, shrugged. “Bad mission.”

Hange narrowed their eyes, setting the bag down and pulling out supplies. “Yeah? Looks more like bad decisions.”

They knelt in front of me, pulling out a pair of scissors and cutting through the fabric around the wound. I hissed as the cold air hit the exposed skin, but Hange was already in work mode, muttering to themselves as they cleaned the area.

“You idiots better keep this under wraps,” they said, glancing up briefly. “You know Levi’s a crash-out. He finds out about this, and he’s lighting the block upland then some, no questions asked.”

Connie chuckled, taking another drag from his joint. “Levi lives for that shit. Ain’t no way we’re letting him in on this.”

Hange sighed, focusing back on my leg. “Good. Now sit still, Jaeger. This is gonna suck.”

Jean, who had been sitting silently on the other side of the room, finally spoke up. “Yo, Connie, play that track you were on about the other day.”

Connie grinned, pulling out his phone and connecting it to the Bluetooth speaker. Within moments, the heavy, dark beat of Black Rain by Kman 6ixx filled the room, the bass vibrating through the walls.

The music set the tone, dark and brooding, fitting for the blood-stained floor and the tension still lingering in the air.

As Hange worked, I leaned back, letting the music drown out the pain and the anger bubbling under the surface. Ony sat across from me, his gaze never leaving mine, his gun still in his lap.

The heavy bass of Black Rain pulsed through the room, and despite the searing pain in my thigh, I found myself nodding to the beat. It was gritty, raw—exactly the kind of energy that matched the night.

“Yo, Connie,” I said, tilting my head toward him, “who’s this?”

Connie grinned, tapping ash from his joint into a tray. “Some TriniBad artist,” he said. “Kman 6ixx. Got that underground heat.”

Ony, still lounging in his chair with his AR-15 resting across his lap, chuckled darkly. “Man’s got some heat, alright. But he ain’t just some artist.” His tone carried weight, like he knew something the rest of us didn’t.

I pulled out my phone, opened Shazam, and tagged the track. The app gave me the info, and I quickly added it to my Spotify playlist. This was the kind of music that hit when you were deep in it, when the life you lived wasn’t just survival but a statement.

Hange wiped the blood off their gloves as they packed up their tools, the sharp smell of antiseptic lingering in the air. They stood, stretching their back before turning to Ony, their face tight with irritation.

“So,” Hange said, hands on their hips, “is there a reason you shot him, or are we just playing ‘spin the bullet’ for fun now?”

Ony didn’t even blink. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes locked on mine. “Oops,” he said simply, his voice cold and detached.

Hange sighed, muttering something under their breath. “Oops, my ass. Y’all need therapy.”

Connie laughed, passing the blunt to Jean, who had been leaning against the wall, watching everything unfold. “Therapy don’t pay the bills,” Connie said, his tone light, but his eyes carried that knowing look. “Besides, who’s got time for a therapist when you’re dodging bullets?”

Jean smirked but stayed quiet, taking a slow drag and blowing the smoke toward the ceiling.

As Hange packed up their supplies, I stared at Ony, the weight of his earlier actions still sitting heavy in the room. He had made his point clear without saying much. This wasn’t just about me stepping out of line. It was about power, control, and the constant reminder that in this world, loyalty was everything—and mistakes were paid for in blood.

“We good now?” I asked, my voice low, but there was no mistaking the edge in my tone.

Ony leaned back, his gun still in his lap, and gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. “For now.”

That was Ony for you—always leaving things open-ended. Always keeping you guessing.

I leaned back, feeling the throbbing ache in my thigh as the room buzzed with tension. Ony’s calm demeanor pissed me off more than the pain. I had to know why he kept trying to keep me away from Y/N, like he had some moral high ground.

“So, Ony,” I said, my voice low, laced with sarcasm, “is there a real reason you don’t want me around your cousin? Or is this just about you flexing?”

Ony didn’t even look up from his gun, calmly checking the chamber. “Rest my case, please,” he said smoothly, like that was supposed to explain everything.

Jean, who had been nursing his blunt in the corner, snorted. “What the fuck kinda English is that?”

Without missing a beat, Ony and I answered in unison, “It’s Trini slang.”

Jean threw his hands up, shaking his head. “Man, y’all always talking in riddles. Can’t keep up.”

Ony finally looked up, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I’m a second-gen immigrant. Picked it up from my parents. You wouldn’t get it.”

The conversation shifted, but my mind was elsewhere. My thoughts circled back to Y/N, her quiet voice, the way she always avoided eye contact when she was nervous. Ony might think he’s protecting her, but he didn’t see what I did. She didn’t need saving—from me, at least.

I pulled out my phone, ignoring the dull ache in my leg as I opened our chat.

“You good?” I typed, staring at the screen for a second before hitting send.

The message went through, and I waited. The seconds dragged on as I watched the little "read" notification pop up. She’d seen it. But no reply.

My jaw clenched, and I felt that familiar surge of frustration. She left me on read.

I stared at our text thread for a long moment, my mind racing. She wasn’t going to ignore me forever. I’d make sure of that.

Ony might think he could warn me off, but he didn’t understand. Y/N was mine. She didn’t know it yet, but she would. I’d make her see.

The longer I stared at my phone, the tighter my grip got, my knuckles turning white. The thought of Y/N sitting in her room, probably thinking about Ony’s bullshit warnings, made my blood boil. She was letting him get in her head.

I shoved the phone back in my pocket and ran a hand through my hair, trying to push down the rising possessiveness threatening to spill over. But it wasn’t going anywhere. I could feel it crawling under my skin, coiling in my chest like a snake ready to strike.

Ony thought he was protecting her, but all he was doing was pissing me off. Y/N needed someone who understood her, someone who saw past her shy, introverted walls. That was me. Not Ony. Not anyone else.

I glanced at Ony, who was now cleaning his gun like nothing had happened, and a dark smirk crept onto my face. “You think ignoring me is gonna work?” I muttered under my breath. “You don’t know me, Y/N.”

Jean’s voice cut through my thoughts. “Yo, Eren, you good? You look like you’re about to murder someone.”

I snapped out of it and gave him a half-smirk. “Nah, just thinking.”

Jean raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. Connie passed him the blunt, and the room filled with smoke and the low thrum of bass from the speakers. But my mind was far from here.

I pulled out my phone again, this time scrolling through my contacts until I landed on Y/N’s number. My thumb hovered over the call button. I knew she wouldn’t pick up, not after leaving me on read. But that didn’t matter.

I hit the button anyway, letting it ring once before hanging up. I wasn’t trying to get her to answer. I just wanted her to know I was thinking about her, that I wasn’t going anywhere.

Because if she thought she could ghost me, she had another thing coming. Y/N was mine, and I wasn’t about to let Ony or anyone else get in the way of that.

I leaned back, letting the music wash over me as I plotted my next move. Y/N could run, she could hide behind Ony’s warnings, but she’d learn soon enough—when it came to me, there was no escaping.

Three days. Three long, agonizing days since Y/N left me on read. My patience was wearing thin, and I was itching to see her. But instead of dragging her out of her house like I wanted, I was stuck in this freezing warehouse, listening to Levi drone on about territory and some gang we were clashing with.

His voice was sharp, cutting through the cold air as he paced back and forth. “They’ve been moving product on our block. That’s a problem. We need to send a message.”

I wasn’t paying attention, though. My mind kept circling back to Y/N. What was she doing? Was she thinking about me? Probably sitting in her room, replaying Ony’s words. That thought made my chest tighten. Ony didn’t get to control her life—or mine.

I shifted my weight, leaning against a rusted metal beam, trying to focus, but it wasn’t working. All I could think about was pulling her into my arms, making her look me in the eyes, and telling her exactly how this was going to go.

Before I could sink any deeper into my thoughts, a sharp blow landed on my calf, and my leg buckled. “Fuck!” I hissed, hitting the cold concrete floor.

Levi stood over me, his usual deadpan expression tinged with irritation. “Daydreaming again, Jaeger? You think this is a fucking joke?”

I glared up at him, my teeth clenched. Big mistake. His boot connected with my jaw in a flash, and my head snapped to the side. Pain exploded in my skull, and for a moment, everything blurred. I saw stars, bright and mocking.

Levi crouched down next to me, his voice calm but laced with menace. “You’re lucky you’re good at your shit, Jaeger. Otherwise, I’d put a bullet in your head and piss on your grave.”

I spit out a bit of blood, my jaw throbbing. My pride was wounded, but I didn’t dare say a word. Levi didn’t need much of a reason to end someone, and I wasn’t stupid enough to push him further.

He stood and turned back to the group, continuing like nothing had happened. “Now, as I was saying, we need to send a message. Eren, you’re with Jean and Reiner on this one. No screw-ups.”

I nodded, wiping the blood from my mouth as I slowly got back to my feet. My jaw ached, and my head was spinning, but I didn’t care. All I could think about was Y/N.

Levi could beat the hell out of me for all I cared, but he couldn’t stop me from getting what I wanted. And what I wanted was her.

As soon as this mission was over, I was going to make sure Y/N understood that she couldn’t ignore me. Not anymore.

I reluctantly dragged myself off the cold concrete floor, wincing at the dull ache in my jaw. The last thing I wanted to do right now was focus on Levi’s bullshit, but the mission wasn’t going to sort itself out. So, I swallowed my pride and strolled over to Jean and Reiner, the two of them already chatting about the job ahead. “Let’s go sort shit out,” I muttered, my voice low.

Reiner couldn’t resist, his stupid laugh echoing in the warehouse as he looked at me. “Yo, Levi really rocked your shit, huh?” He grinned, clearly amused. I wanted to smack the taste out of his mouth, but he was part of the crew. For now.

Jean shot me a quick glance, his face serious. “You good, man? You look like you’ve been through hell.”

“I’m fine,” I said through gritted teeth, forcing the pain back. My mind was still on Y/N. I couldn’t afford to focus on the bruising in my mouth when I had a more important mission in mind.

I made my way to my Hellcat, the rumble of the engine filling the air as I popped the trunk. I stared at the freshly customized Bushmaster I had just acquired, my fingers tracing over the cold metal. The gun wasn’t just a tool—it was a statement.

As I carefully examined the engraving on the barrel, my eyes locked onto the words carved into the side. Y/N. I had her name etched there, just so I could see it every time I held it. Every time I committed, every time I did my job. I wanted her with me, even when she didn’t understand why.

I closed the trunk with a satisfying thud and slid into the driver’s seat. Reiner and Jean piled into the Jeep Wrangler behind me, their faces already set in that grim expression we all wore when we were heading into a mission.

I gripped the steering wheel, my thoughts still tangled with Y/N. I knew she was playing hard to get, probably listening to Ony and the rest of the people who didn’t know the first thing about us. But she didn’t know how far I was willing to go for her. And tonight, after this job, I’d remind her.

“Let’s go handle this,” I muttered, revving the engine.

Reiner leaned forward from the backseat. “You good to drive?”

I barely spared him a glance, my focus sharp now. “I’m fine. Just keep your head in the game.”

The city lights flashed by as I accelerated down the street, the adrenaline of the mission kicking in, but that nagging thought of Y/N never left. I had to remind her that she was mine—and no one, not even Ony, could tell me otherwise.

The streets blurred past me as I gripped the steering wheel, my mind focused on the mission, but it was hard to ignore the rage simmering beneath the surface. The feeling of blood pumping through my veins, the adrenaline coursing through me as I prepared for another round of chaos. Levi’s orders echoed in my ears, but honestly, I didn’t need much pushing. I loved these moments—this was where I thrived. This is where I could be the unhinged, cold-blooded monster I needed to be to survive in this world.

We were headed into enemy territory now, a rival gang that had the audacity to step onto turf we controlled. Their mistake. Their stupid, reckless mistake. They took what wasn’t theirs. Now we’re going to remind them why they should’ve stayed in their own fucking lane.

As we arrived, the weight of the situation hit me. The area had the usual gritty feel of a war zone. Graffiti-covered walls, abandoned buildings, and cars stripped down to their frames scattered the streets. But this time, there was something different in the air—something thick with tension. We were deep in their turf now.

I pulled up near an alley, the engine of the Hellcat purring as I shifted the car into park. “Alright, we move fast,” I said, my voice low but commanding.

Jean and Reiner both nodded, already reaching for their weapons. But me? I wasn’t grabbing just any weapon. I reached into the compartment under the seat, pulling out my twin Berettas. I called them The Butchers, because that’s what they did—they sliced through whatever stood in front of them. I’m about to put these fuckers to work.

Jean raised an eyebrow at me. “You really gotta name them?”

I didn’t answer him. I just cocked the guns with a satisfying click. “Let’s make sure they know who runs this fucking city.”

We moved in silence, slipping through the shadows like predators hunting their prey. We were on their turf now, and I could already feel the heat rising in me. This is where I was at my best—dark, savage, unhinged. This is when I could show out, remind them all what happens when you cross the wrong people.

“You ready for this?” Reiner asked, his voice tense, but his eyes betraying the calm confidence of someone who had been in this situation countless times before.

I turned to him, my eyes cold and calculating, “You better believe it.”

We crept up to their hideout, a run-down building that had clearly been repurposed into their base of operations. I could hear voices coming from inside—low murmurs of gang members who thought they were untouchable. They didn’t even know we were here yet.

I signaled to Jean and Reiner. “On my count. We go in.”

I kicked open the door with a violent force, the wood splintering under my boot. The Butchers were already in my hands, the weight of them perfect in my palms.

“Hey! What the fuck—” The words were barely out of the guy’s mouth when I slammed the first Beretta into his chest, dropping him instantly with a spray of blood. The second one followed in quick succession, hitting another guy who tried to pull his piece on me. He didn’t even get a chance to fire.

“No talking, no mercy,” I muttered to myself, my blood pumping harder, the heat in me rising to a fever pitch.

Jean and Reiner were behind me, both handling their own targets, but I was lost in the moment. I loved this feeling—the chaos, the violence, the rush of power that came with knowing I controlled everything in this space. These men, these weaklings, they didn’t matter. They were just bodies in my way, obstacles to be removed.

“Fuckin’ pussies.” The words slipped from my lips like a growl as I moved deeper into the building, clearing rooms with brutal efficiency.

I rounded a corner, slamming into a guy who tried to tackle me, but I was too fast. I twisted his arm behind his back and shoved my knee into his spine, hearing a satisfying crack as I slammed his face into the concrete floor. “You think you own this block? You don’t own shit.”

Reiner came up behind me, clearing out the last of the goons, while Jean kicked open the final door. “Eren, we’re done here. The place is clear.”

But I wasn’t done. Not yet.

I stormed into the room, seeing the head honcho of this little operation trying to scramble for his gun. “You’re gonna regret this,” he spat, but his fear was evident. He knew exactly what was coming.

I grabbed him by the throat, lifting him off the ground with ease. “You’re the one who’s gonna regret this.” I slammed his back into the wall, pinning him there. The Butchers were still in my hands, and this guy’s fate was sealed.

Jean called out, “Eren, don’t waste time. Let’s get out of here.”

But I couldn’t resist. I pressed the barrel of my Beretta into the guy’s forehead, a sick smile pulling at the corners of my lips. “You wanted to take our turf, huh? Here’s your message.”

I squeezed the trigger. His body went limp, a final breath escaping his lips as his blood splattered across the walls.

“Done.” I turned to Jean and Reiner, the rush still surging through me.

Reiner gave me a smirk. “You’re fucking crazy, man.”

I chuckled darkly, wiping the blood from my face with the back of my hand. “Maybe. But that’s why they respect me.”

As another body hit the floor, I didn’t feel the usual rush of satisfaction. Not yet. There was one more thing to take care of. I was done with the shooting for now, but I needed answers—needed to send a message to anyone else who might think they could just step on our turf without consequences.

I walked over to the head honcho, who was still gasping for air, trying to lift his hands in defense but failing miserably. He was weak. Pathetic. A useless leader. A foolish man who had the audacity to think he could challenge us.

I grabbed him by the collar, dragging him across the floor and tossing him into a chair. His head snapped back against the wood with a sickening thud, but I didn’t care. I pulled a set of zip ties from my pocket, expertly securing his wrists to the arms of the chair, making sure he couldn’t move, couldn’t run. His fear was palpable as he stared at me, eyes wide, probably wondering if I was about to end him right here.

“What’s your name?” I asked, my voice low and dangerous.

He swallowed hard, looking at me like I was a monster. “You think you’re gonna get away with this?”

I leaned in close, my breath hot against his ear as I whispered, “I think you’re the one who’s about to answer some questions.”

His eyes flickered to the Beretta in my hand, and I couldn’t help but smirk. It was just a reminder of who was in control. The guy’s breath was shaky now, sweat trickling down his forehead. He opened his mouth to say something, but I cut him off with a sharp command. “Name. Now.”

His mouth tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might not speak at all. But after a few tense seconds, he relented. “Leon. My name’s Leon.”

“Good,” I muttered. Then, I straightened up, taking a step back and giving him some space to think—though I wasn’t about to make this easy on him. “Now, Leon, I have a few questions for you. You listen, and you answer. Real simple. First one—who’s running your shit now?”

He swallowed again, his throat visibly tightening. “I—We’re not with the Vipers anymore. We’re under new leadership. Darius... He’s the one you should be talking to.”

I grinned, a dark, twisted smile stretching across my face. “Darius, huh? That’s funny, because I thought your guys were the Vipers.”

He hesitated, but I could see the fear in his eyes now, knowing he was digging a deeper hole for himself with every word he spoke. “We were. But not anymore. Darius—he made some moves, took out the old crew, and now he runs the whole east side.”

I laughed softly, the sound cold and menacing. “Darius, huh? So this is how it’s going down now, huh? You think you’re gonna come onto my block, run it like it’s some new kingdom, huh? Darius doesn’t control shit. This is still my city, Leon. My fucking city.”

His gaze darted around the room, like he was trying to find a way out—some way to escape the reality that he was caught in a trap. But there was no escape. Not for him. Not for any of them.

“Darius thinks he can just come in here and take over, huh?” I said, mostly to myself, as I paced in front of him, my fingers trailing over the grip of the Beretta.

I knelt down in front of him, leaning in close again, so close I could feel the heat from his breath on my skin. “I’m gonna give you a choice, Leon,” I said softly, my voice dripping with menace. “You’re gonna tell me everything about Darius’s operation. Where he’s hiding, who’s with him, all of it. Or I’ll make sure you never get a chance to run that mouth of yours again.”

He shook his head, trying to plead. “I don’t know! I swear, I—”

I cut him off, pressing the barrel of the Beretta to his kneecap. He yelped in pain, his body tensing in terror. “You don’t know? You better know, because if you don’t, I’ll start with the fingers. Let’s see if you remember where you put all that information then.”

He blanched, his eyes going wide as he realized the kind of hell he was about to endure. “Alright! Alright! I’ll tell you everything! Just don’t—don’t hurt me, please.”

I smiled again, pulling the gun away from his knee and setting it down on the table in front of him, giving him just enough space to breathe. But not enough to get comfortable. “Good. That’s what I like to hear.”

“Darius... He’s got a stash house just outside the city, up by the old docks. He’s been dealing with some... some big names. He’s working with other gangs and shit man. It’s not just the Eastside anymore. He’s got muscle from all over.”

I nodded slowly, taking in everything he said. This was exactly what I needed. Darius had moved in fast, taking advantage of the gap in the market left by the Vipers. But he wasn’t going to keep it for long. “You know, Leon,” I said, my voice cold as I leaned in close to his ear, “You just made a real smart decision. You gave me everything I need. But that doesn’t mean you’re gonna walk away from this clean.”

His eyes widened in fear again, but I didn’t give him a chance to speak. I stood up, pulling a knife from my belt and flipping it open. “You think we’re done here? Nah.”

The blade flashed, and in one swift motion, I slashed through the zip ties holding his wrists. “I don’t want you to forget who did this to you. And the next time someone from your crew comes sniffing around here, you tell them to keep their hands off my turf.”

I turned my back on him, walking toward the exit. I was done with him.

“And Leon?” I called over my shoulder, stopping in the doorway.

He looked up, terrified. “W-what?”

“Tell Darius I’m coming for him. And when I find him, I’m taking his head. Don’t make me look for him.”

As I was walking to leave the room, a flicker of movement caught my eye. Leon, desperate and panicked, was trying to crawl away, dragging his broken body toward the door. He thought he could escape—thought maybe I’d let him run off with his life. Big mistake.

I didn’t even hesitate. I pulled the Beretta from my waistband, aiming at his back. BANG! The shot rang out, the bullet piercing his spine, sending him crashing to the floor with a scream. Blood pooled beneath him, his body twitching from the shock of the impact.

I laughed. It was a dark, twisted laugh, one that felt almost alive inside me. I skipped over to him, my footsteps light and fast, like a predator closing in on its prey.

“Opps,” I mocked, bending down next to him. His face was contorted in pain, eyes wide, tears mixing with the blood on his face. I could see the fear in his eyes as he tried to drag himself forward, but his body refused to cooperate.

I leaned in close, my voice dropping to a sickening whisper. “That was for your ankle.”

Without another word, I aimed the Beretta at his ankle and pulled the trigger again.

BANG!

This time, the shot was so precise, the bullet shattered through the joint, and I watched with twisted satisfaction as his body jerked violently on the floor, unable to move much. The scream he let out was the final cry of a man who knew he wasn’t getting out of this alive.

He was done. There was no more begging, no more running. Just a broken body on the floor, his life fading away with every second.

I stood there for a moment, savoring the sound of his labored breathing, feeling the adrenaline pumping through my veins.

“Don’t forget who runs this,” I muttered, a dark grin spreading across my face as I turned and walked out, leaving him to bleed out in that empty room.

Jean and Reiner were looking at me crazy but who the fuck really cares. then Jean said "I see why Ony wants you away from his cousin.."

Jean’s words hit me like a slap, and the moment he said her name, my mind went dark. "I see why Ony wants you away from his cousin..."

That was all it took. Every ounce of control I’d been holding onto snapped. I wasn’t thinking anymore—I was reacting, my body moving before my brain could catch up. I was on him in an instant, fingers wrapping around his collar, yanking him toward me as my fist swung.

But Jean, quick as ever, dodged. Just barely.

He smirked, but I could see the flicker of caution in his eyes as he backed away, positioning himself defensively.

"Yo, chill, Eren," Reiner’s voice came from behind, but I wasn’t hearing him. My mind was only on one thing: her. Jean had spoken her name like it was nothing, like he could just throw it around without consequences. That shit was unforgivable.

“Don't fucking talk about her,” I growled through gritted teeth, my knuckles tight on Jean’s shirt, ready to drag him into the dirt if he even dared to finish his sentence.

Jean's smirk faltered as he raised his hands in mock surrender, though his eyes were still full of challenge. He wasn’t scared of me, not like some of the others. But that’s why I hated him—he had a way of getting under my skin, like he was always poking the beast, daring me to lash out.

"Relax, man," he said, trying to step back, but I wasn’t about to let him get away that easily. I wanted him to understand that there were lines you didn’t cross.

But before I could move again, Reiner stepped between us, pushing me back with his arm. "That's enough, Eren. Don't make us deal with your shit again."

I gritted my teeth, but he had a point. If I went any further, I’d make everything worse—not just for myself, but for the crew. And I hated when Jean was right, but in this moment, he was right. I needed to focus.

Still, the words were there, gnawing at the back of my mind—her name, and the thought of anyone disrespecting her, anyone mentioning her like that, made my blood boil.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. "Next time, don’t mention her name," I spat, voice low but dripping with menace. "Or I’ll make sure you don’t walk straight for a week."

Jean just rolled his eyes, but I could see the flicker of uncertainty in his face as he glanced at Reiner. He knew I wasn’t joking.

Reiner shook his head and muttered, "You’re too damn impulsive."

I didn’t care. Jean needed to learn. Everyone needed to learn. She was mine.

And I would kill anyone who thought they could touch what was mine.

I sat in my car parked across the street, the low rumble of the engine barely audible in the quiet night. The darkness cloaked me, but my eyes were locked on her house. Her house. The only place that felt like a beacon in this fucked-up world. I was supposed to be back at the warehouse, standing in front of Levi, giving him the rundown with Jean and Reiner. But screw that. I didn’t care about Levi’s glares or his threats.

This? This was more important.

The window was cracked just enough for me to hear their voices drifting out. Ony’s deep, pissed-off tone echoed into the night, laced with frustration and anger. He was arguing with her, and I knew exactly what it was about.

Me.

I leaned back in my seat, lighting a cigarette, the flame briefly illuminating my face before darkness swallowed me again. I smirked as I took a long drag. Fucking idiot. He thought he could keep me away. Thought he could scare her into staying clear of me.

He didn’t know her like I did. Doesn’t know how much she needed someone like me.

The argument grew louder, Ony’s voice sharp and commanding. “I’m serious, Y/N! Stay away from him. He’s dangerous. He’ll ruin you.”

I chuckled under my breath, blowing out a cloud of smoke. Dangerous? Yeah, maybe. But ruin her? Not a chance. I’d protect her from everyone else, even if I had to be the monster in the shadows to do it. She didn’t need protection from me; she needed protection from them. From people who didn’t understand her. People like Ony.

Her voice rose next, defiant and fierce, cutting through the night air. “I don’t need you to tell me what to do! You think you’re any better? You’ve been in that life longer than him!”

I felt a strange mix of pride and amusement bubble up. That’s my girl. Standing her ground even against someone like Ony. She wasn’t as fragile as everyone thought. She had fire, and that fire burned for me, even if she didn’t fully realize it yet.

Ony’s reply was muffled, but his frustration was clear. The argument continued, and I couldn’t help but relish the chaos. He was losing control, and he knew it.

I ashed the cigarette out on the side of the car, flicking the butt onto the pavement. My patience was wearing thin. Hearing her defend me, knowing she was willing to fight for me—it made my blood hum.

I glanced at my phone, her name glowing on the screen in my messages. Still on read. My jaw clenched. She was trying to make me sweat, but two could play that game. If she thought ignoring me would keep me away, she was wrong.

I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel, debating whether to text her again or just walk up to her door. Make Ony regret ever thinking he could keep me at arm’s length.

But for now, I waited. Watched. Because soon enough, she’d come to me. They always did.

Ony’s footsteps were heavy, his expression stormy as he slammed the front door behind him. He spotted my car immediately, his eyes narrowing like a predator locking onto its prey. His hand went to his waistband, and I caught the glint of steel under the streetlight as he stormed across the street.

I rolled my eyes but kept my cool, letting my hand rest lazily on the wheel. I knew what was coming. Sure enough, Ony stalked right up to the driver’s side, his gun already cocked, and pointed it directly at my head.

I didn’t flinch.

Rolling down the window, I came face-to-face with the barrel, a calm smirk tugging at my lips. "The fuck you doing outside my crib, E?" Ony growled, his voice low and dangerous. His finger twitched on the trigger, but I could see the restraint in his eyes. He wasn’t ready to pull it—not yet.

I leaned back slightly, resting my arm on the open window, completely unfazed. “Relax, big guy,” I drawled, my tone smooth, almost mocking. “Just enjoying the night air. Didn’t know I needed an invite to park on a public street.”

Ony’s jaw tightened, his grip on the gun firm. “Don’t play games with me. You’re here for her, aren’t you? You don’t know when to quit.”

I chuckled softly, my eyes never leaving his. “Quit? Nah. I don’t do that. Especially not when it comes to Y/N.”

His expression darkened further, and I could feel the tension rolling off him in waves. “You’re a sick bastard, Eren,” he spat. “You’re gonna drag her down with you, and you don’t even care.”

I shrugged, still grinning. “Maybe. But you and I both know she doesn’t want out. She’s got a taste for this now, and you can’t scare her away. You’re just pissed you can’t control her anymore.”

That hit a nerve. Ony pressed the barrel harder against my forehead, his eyes blazing with fury. “You don’t get it, do you? I’ll put you in the ground before I let you ruin her life.”

I tilted my head slightly, my smirk never wavering. “Go ahead,” I taunted, my voice a low murmur. “Pull the trigger, Ony. Let’s see how that plays out. But we both know you won’t. ‘Cause if you do, you’ll lose her for good. And you can’t handle that, can you?”

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still. His finger hovered over the trigger, his breathing heavy. But then, slowly, he pulled the gun back, his hands trembling slightly. He was furious, but he wasn’t stupid.

“You’re a dead man walking, Eren,” Ony muttered, shoving the gun back into his waistband. “Stay the hell away from my cousin.”

I leaned forward slightly, my smirk widening. “Can’t promise that, Ony,” I said quietly, my tone dripping with defiance. “She’s already mine.”

Ony stared at me for a long moment, his fists clenched at his sides. Then, without another word, he turned and stormed off down the street, leaving me sitting there, my heart pounding with adrenaline.

I watched Ony storm off toward the house, his shoulders tense, his fists clenched. I let out a low chuckle, thinking the storm had passed. But then he stopped, just a few steps from his front door, and turned back around. His face was a mask of rage, and before I could even register what was happening—

BANG.

The sharp crack of the gun echoed through the quiet street, followed almost immediately by another. BANG.

I didn’t flinch, but my heart raced for a split second, instinctively bracing for the searing burn of a bullet. Except it didn’t come. Instead, the sound of glass shattering and metal crunching reached my ears.

I glanced to my side and saw the spiderweb cracks spreading across my passenger-side window. The second shot had ripped right through the rear quarter panel. Ony had shot my car.

“Crazy bastard,” I muttered under my breath, half-impressed, half-pissed.

The neighborhood stayed eerily silent; no one dared peek through their curtains. Everyone knew better than to get involved. That’s the kind of respect Ony commanded around here. But me? I wasn’t scared. This was a game we’d been playing for a while now, and I wasn’t about to back down.

I leaned out the window slightly, my voice carrying across the empty street. “Nice aim, Ony! You miss me already?”

He stood there for a second longer, his gun still raised as if he was contemplating whether to send a third bullet my way. Finally, he lowered it, shaking his head before disappearing into the house without another word.

I exhaled slowly, a smirk creeping back onto my face. “Cute,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. My car was a mess, but I didn’t care. This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

Pulling my phone out again, I shot Y/N another text. Me: You’re not answering me, baby. I don’t like being ignored.Then, after a pause, I added: Me: See you soon.

I tossed the phone onto the passenger seat, my eyes flicking back to the house. Ony thought this was a warning. But all he did was fuel the fire.

I watched him go, then glanced back at the house. My smirk faded slightly as I pulled my phone out, my thumb hovering over Y/N’s contact. She hadn’t responded yet, but that didn’t matter. I’d see her soon enough.

I watched Ony who was glaring at me with a smile and it pissed me off he shot up my fucking green hellcat…he smirked then started walking back to his house again…. Fucking psycho.

My fingers itched, the weight of my Glock sitting snug in my lap. I let him get a few more steps ahead, then— BANG.

The shot rang out, slicing through the quiet night. Ony stumbled forward, his hand clutching at his arm as blood began to seep through his shirt.

“Ah, shit!” he growled, spinning around to face me, murder in his eyes.

I leaned out the window, my laugh echoing down the block like it was the punchline to some sick joke. “Missed your heart,” I called out, my grin wide and unrepentant. “Next time, maybe?”

Before Ony could say a word, the front door slammed open, and Y/N came storming out, her eyes blazing with fury. She was still in her house slippers, her arms crossed over her chest, but the fire in her eyes made me sit up a little straighter.

“Eren!” she snapped, her voice cutting through the night. “What the hell is wrong with you?! You’re insane!”

I shrugged, still grinning. “Only for you, baby.”

“Don’t call me that,” she shot back, her glare sharp enough to cut glass. She turned to Ony, who was still clutching his arm. “And you,” she pointed, her voice softer but still filled with irritation, “get in the house before you bleed out on the porch.”

Ony shook his head, his jaw clenched as he locked eyes with me one more time. “This ain’t over,” he growled, backing toward the door.

“It never is,” I called after him, watching as he disappeared inside.

Y/N was still standing on the porch, arms crossed, staring daggers at me. “Go home, Eren,” she said firmly. “You’re not helping anything.”

I chuckled, resting my arm on the window. “You really think I’m just gonna walk away after that?”

Her glare didn’t waver. “If you have even a shred of decency left, you will.”

I leaned back in my seat, giving her a long, slow once-over. “You know I can’t stay away from you,” I said, my voice low. “Not now, not ever.”

She rolled her eyes, spinning on her heel. “You’re impossible,” she muttered, slamming the door behind her.

I smirked, starting the car. “Yeah, but you love it.”

Your POV.

I slammed the door shut behind us, locking it as Ony staggered toward the couch. His hand was still pressed against his arm, blood seeping through his fingers. My heart was pounding so loud it felt like it might burst out of my chest.

“I can’t believe you and Eren were shooting at each other!” I snapped, grabbing a towel from the kitchen and tossing it to him. “Isn’t that against some gang code or something? Like I’d even know.”

Ony grimaced as he pressed the towel to his arm. “Ain’t about codes right now,” he muttered. “Just text Hange and give them the house address.”

I hesitated for a second. “Hange? Who’s Hange?”

“Just do it, Y/N,” he said through gritted teeth. “They’re the crew’s medic.”

I grabbed his phone off the coffee table, my fingers fumbling slightly as I unlocked it and scrolled through his contacts. Hange’s name popped up immediately. I typed out a quick text, adding the house address before hitting send.

“They’ll be here in a few,” I said, dropping the phone onto the table.

Ony leaned back, his face twisted in pain. “That idiot,” he muttered. “Eren doesn’t think. He acts.”

I folded my arms, pacing back and forth. “You’re not exactly the poster boy for rational behavior either. You both could’ve killed each other out there!”

Ony shot me a look, his expression dark. “And you think he wouldn’t kill for you? That man’s already got one foot in hell, Y/N. Don’t let him drag you in with him.”

I stopped pacing, my stomach churning. “I didn’t ask for this, Ony. You’re both acting like I’m some prize to be fought over.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “It’s not about that. Eren… he’s dangerous. You think you’ve seen the worst of him, but you haven’t. Not even close.”

I swallowed hard, my mind flashing back to Eren’s wild grin, the gleam in his eyes when he shot at Ony. “He wouldn’t hurt me,” I said quietly, more to convince myself than anything.

Ony gave a bitter laugh. “He wouldn’t mean to, but that’s the thing about men like him. The chaos follows, and sooner or later, it’ll swallow you whole.”

Before I could respond, there was a sharp knock at the door. I rushed to open it, and there stood Hange, a medical bag slung over their shoulder, their eyes scanning the room with a mix of amusement and exasperation.

“Well,” Hange said, stepping inside, “looks like someone’s been busy tonight.”

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