#like it starts and i get excited every time

[sheepispink]

consider pt2 of puppy and simon but simon gets his shit together and theres a happy ending ORRRR one of the guys (price, gaz, soap) stops by and is actually APPALLED at how puppy looks and is being treated and they just get snatched up and taken to a better home while simon gets chewed out

i was going originally do a 2 in 1 but everyone got so excited so we'll do second first then MAYBE simon can get some redemption. anyway, this ones for u anon <3

EDIT: i am currently very ill so part three will be delayed 😞

PART ONE

Ghost had been home early that day for another reason as well: a two-week deployment that he’s supposed to be packing up for. 

Only once you fell asleep on the couch had he finally made his presence known and walked towards his bedroom. He doesn't tell you when he tightens the straps of his gear while his things lean against the door, a white sheet of paper left for you on the coffee table. He didn't bother telling you verbally, it didn't seem right to wake you—he couldn't if he tried nor did he have the courage to touch you either. Besides, he didn't want to deal with this right now, not having the energy for your whines, incessant questions or the pitiful look that you now wore even in your slumber. He’d handle all of this when he comes back, that’s right he’ll figure it all out after the mission.

You woke to a silence, again, and immediately noticed the shift of surroundings; by that, it was the note, the one that you couldn't read. 

So you waited, and waited, the day passing by slowly with little to no entertainment left for you to manage. At least when he was home he could navigate the apps like Netflix, putting on shows that make you want to giggle so hard that you had to stuff your tail in your mouth to ensure you made no sound. But no one comes home and so you spend the night alone, still waiting upon his return like the loyal dog you are. 

Thankfully, there’s an abundance of food for you in the fridge though you don't feel like you’re allowed to take any of it, afraid he’d appear out of nowhere and scold you. He never had before, and you still kind of hope he does one day, just to know he sees you. The third day is incredibly cold and despite the blankets you’ve swamped on yourself, your ears have flattened to preserve as much heat as possible. Huddling on the couch isn't doing much, and the thermostat buttons are near impossible for you to wrap your head around, left to shiver and wish that you had a bed to lay upon. Since he usually had no one else to worry about, he had it on an automatic setting so that his bedroom would be the only room heated during the night. It saved money in winter, and of course he never got cold, but now it was the bane of your existence. His room was off limits; he had firmly told you that, but there was only so much of the cold you could handle. 

You whined pitifully as you curled up on the floor in front of the bedroom door, desperate for a feel of the warmth seeping through the cracks beneath. Maybe this was all planned; perhaps some kind of loyalty test or to see how adaptable you were. The thought didn't comfort you though, well aware that you weren’t supposed to be an attack dog; you were far too weak for anything of the sort. Again, another night passed, alone and quiet.

The thunder was starting to scare you now, the great rumble haunting you every time the sun fell, and the sky began to grow darker. It made you hide beneath the dining room table, hands covering your ears as you sniffled quietly. It was too similar to the loud bangs in the facility, when one of you would be punished and the only sound heard was the slap of the whip against the metal pipe next to where the hybrid would stand. Likewise, it didn't help that the couple next door would argue more and more aggressively these days, screaming curses you couldn’t understand and slamming doors shut so loudly. Sometimes at night you’d hear the small patter of footsteps, a drunk walking through the flat, but you could only lay awake in the safety of the bathtub, hoping no one could get through the locked door.

It was only the seventh day when someone finally came by, the doorknob turning making your heart fill with relief knowing Ghost had returned, before quickly filling with dread when you realised it may not be him at all. You curl behind the couch, squashed to say the least but one of the best spots you can consider. Only a small glimpse of the door is visible from your hiding spot, a man entering only to reveal another following close behind. They’re both military men, strong and bulky, one with darker skin and velvety eyes and the other lighter, intense blue in his irises. As they approach the living room, you can see them better as they snoop around. 

“Where’s the pup?” The one with a mohawk says, eyebrows furrowed as he crouches to look beneath the table. You’re suddenly grateful you chose not to hide there. “Price said they should be here… maybe they’re in Ghost’s room?” They seem to know him which is a good sign, but you’re afraid now, wondering if this really was a setup, one to take you far away for good. You tremble as you think over it, unable to stop the tiny sniffle that escapes you. 

The brown eyes meet with yours, crouched at one end of the couch as you hide the best you can in the darkness that comes with it. “There you are. Are you going to come out of there? We just wanna make sure you’re doing okay whilst he's on deployment.”

Deployment? What’s that? You didn't understand the word, nor could you formulate much of a response to him, only staring back at him in return. He carefully reaches out, taking one hand to see if you’ll be okay with him touching you before using both of his hands to slip to your waist and gently pull you out. You’re light–or maybe he’s just that strong.  Shorter than him too, thanks to your crossbreed genes. He has no problem settling you on the couch cushions, the mohawk man approaching once he realises, but you’re caught off guard by the man who lifted you, who now had a hand outstretched towards you. You take it and he shakes it gently. “I’m Kyle, but you might hear someone refer to me as Gaz too.”

The other one is not as careful as Kyle, walking right up to you and eyeing your tail before crouching to meet your height, just so he isn't as tall and intimidating as he had been before. “Ye don't look too happy lass, bet you’ve been missin’ Ghost a lot, hm?” He reaches out his hand too, shaking yours a little more fervently than Kyle had, but you just look blankly back at him. “Johnny, or Soap, up to ya.” It’s weird, you had been begging for someone to come by, someone to fill the void in this apartment. But now you were silent, unknowing what to say, what to do, waiting for orders rather than the playful innocence you used to own.

Though Kyle is more concerned about the temperature in the room, seeing as you have goosebumps climbing up your arms. “Why’re you so cold? Did Ghost not show you how to change the thermostat?” You shake your head, showing your first sign of response before he picks up the note Ghost left. “Oh, there are instructions here though? See, Ghost wrote you turn it clockwise and then press the set button—”

“I can’t read.” Finally, you speak, sickness filling your gut when his eyebrows raise like that, the fur on your tail stilling as Soap’s touch. You don't have to look behind to see Soap’s reaction, the shame already thick as it filters through you, from your head down to the jelly feeling of your legs. 

The two of them excuse themselves, whispering quietly to each other in the kitchen. They keep nervously glancing back at you, murmuring things like ‘Shouldn’t Ghost have known she couldn't read?’ and ‘Price said she was a bubbly little thing, only a little shaken up. What happened?’ 

You’re not sure if you should tell them that your ears can pick up on everything they're saying, especially due to your hybrid genes. It seems a little rude to intrude, so you eventually just settle on holding your ears down with the palms of your hands instead.

Eventually they return, Soap gently brushing a finger over the curve of your ears and nudging your fingers away. The fluffy ears atop your head flicker up, perking once more as he scratches at the base. “How about you come with us, hm?”

He had expected gratitude, maybe even a hug for saving you from the perilous neglect you were clearly experiencing, but you don't, just stare back at them silently. This is it, you think. This is where you’re stripped away from the one you’re supposed to be loyal to, too useless to stay in line like you should’ve. “Did I.. fail the test?” You eventually murmur out, half expecting for Ghost to pop out and give you that absent glare, the one that makes you tremble more than this cold ever would. Gaz just quietly shakes his head at you, confused before gently sitting on the couch beside you. “No—no. You’re clearly not doing well, and Ghost is still on deployment so—”

“What is deployment?”

“He didn't tell you that either..?”

Soon enough you’re wrapped in Soap’s thick jacket as you ride in the back of their truck, eyes lost on the surroundings outside as they mutter amongst themselves. You had told them you could hear them, but they didn't seem to mind, and now they discussed quietly what they’d need for you whilst you stayed at base. After a bit of back and forth, Gaz explained to you that he wasn't taking you away from Ghost, just looking after you while he was out. He looked noticeably worried though about the idea of leaving you with him again. Something nags at you though, a little parasite saying it's because of the fact he deems you as annoying as Ghost does—if Ghost hadn’t told them already that is.

They lead you through the halls, Kyle’s gentle hand in yours that you just let him take; it’s not like you’d ever fight back anyway. People were staring though, soldiers who looked abnormal in their tight gear, dangerous weapons carelessly handled and yet you’re ogled at, watched and scrutinised. It feels like punishment enough, to be seen, and you’re starting to wonder if this is what it would have felt if Ghost really had talked to you. Your hand subconsciously squeezes Kyle’s as you step into Price’s office whom they had called up earlier, nervously explaining the situation to him. Now he greets you warmly, albeit looking a little too tired as it is. But he doesn't show it in his manner, gesturing for you to take a seat which you do, albeit very quietly. You remember him; he had been the one to leave you in front of Ghost’s door, murmuring empty promises that he’d warm up eventually, and you’d just ‘have to be good for him’. 

“Bet this deployment has been hitting you hard. Let’s have a talk, hm?” He takes a seat on the couch opposite you, your hand somehow still in Kyle’s who takes a seat beside you but not too close, allowing some space for you to breathe at the very least. “How’s living with Ghost?” 

You’re quiet, almost silenced, but he knows you can and will speak since Soap had told him so. There’s not much point in this conversation with them, at least that’s what you’re convinced. Forcing the wrong puzzle piece wouldn’t work, just like shoving you with an owner just because he has some issues to sort out. Sure, it was better than being on the streets, and you were excited at first, wondering if this was actually where those hybrid disappearance cases really ended up. A warm home, hot food and someone who treated you well, not as a princess but as a person. Now it only felt like a countdown, a series of stages to make sure you were given a fair treatment, but the end goal was always the same—you would return to the streets.

A warm hand on your shoulder snaps you out, blue eyes looking straight at you. “Lass?” They must’ve been watching you whilst you were lost in your head, swimming deep in your thoughts, because now they’re all staring intently for a response you can't give.

“Okay, how about yes or no questions? Price offers, and you slowly nod your head in response. Ghost was still yours though, or rather you were his. You refused to demonise him, refused to cry and wail about how he’s shown you nothing but misery, he wasn't that bad—but that was true, would you even have to bother defending him?

“Has he been feeding you?” Nod

“Bought you clothes?” Well, he tasked a soldier with the budget, and now you have a good few sets available to you. Nod

“Was your tail like this before he left?” Nod

The two younger soldiers share a glance, one that you can feel burn into your skin. 

“Did you tell him you couldn't read?” Shake.

He raises a brow, looks at the others and then back to you again. You’re getting bored by this now, the drag of this all, the inevitable end playing with your heart. “Did he not ever tell you how to change the thermostat then? Kyle said it was freezing.”

“He never speaks to me.”

It’s like a pin has dropped in this room, somehow the bustle soldiers that filled the halls grew quieter. Or maybe it’s because Soap hands have curved around your waist, pushing your face into his chest, the one that’s dripping with salty wetness. You don't remember your voice trembling the whole time, nor your hand squeezing Gaz’s so hard. But it hits you like a tidal wave, the realisation that comes with the silence, the hurt that comes with it. You knew, but you didn't really let it sink in– how you were treated, how he acted, how he hated you. And now you shake, hard, hushed voices of comfort fading as your eyes squeeze close, hands clenched near your broken heart. 

Taglist: CLOSED @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes @alyssajofreitas @asksergantdrift @pinkfqiry @gogeroni @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @thetastewassweeter @dreamtofus @milanriol @xsoftdead18 @zozo-spooks @calicocelt @kiwijustreallylovesfanfiction @ddaikko @softhandsofgingercat @iiriam

[badhee]

𝑷𝑹𝑬𝑺𝑺 𝑷𝑳𝑨𝒀 ! ⋅˚₊ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

your boyfriend Heeseung convinces you to make a sextape with him, ultimately ending up with you getting wrecked on camera.

pairing: bf!heeseung x gf!reader genre/tags: pwp (plot is barely there), smut, piv, unprotected sex, dom!heeseung/sub!reader, manhandling, daddy kink?, there is absolutely nothing holy about this fic… read at your own risk that’s all i’m gonna say tbh words: 3.0k

[ note. ] — if you remember seeing this before yes i’m the original author i didn’t plagiarize this lol, my other blog is jj-one if you wanna check it out. i’m simply reposting all my fics and adapting them for other fandoms i’m currently into !

Heeseung checks himself out in the mirror one last time, threading his fingers through his thick, silky hair before hitting the record button to start filming.

He had the camera set up on a tripod placed in front of the bed, flashing you a soft smile. You couldn’t stop ogling his divine features, he looked so damn good. His messy brown hair swept the sides of his face and was only in a pair of white Calvin Klein boxers. He just looks like pure heaven, unable to keep yourself contained as you sneak glances at his nicely toned body. You can literally stare at his beautiful sculpted abs all day, he was the true definition of perfection.

‘How’d I get so lucky to have the hottest boyfriend alive?’ You often thought to yourself.

“M’kay, ready babe?” Heeseung asks reassuringly, he knows you’re excited to do this just as much as he is.

You nod your head “mhm, was born ready!” He chuckles at your cuteness, pressing the little red ‘record’ button on his camera.

Once the camera begins rolling Heeseung wastes no time to spring into action, turning towards you to cup your face in his large hands. He kisses you hungrily, causing you to moan ever so slightly into him, without breaking the kiss you both land onto the bed— he’s hovering over your frame providing light touches to your thigh. You were enjoying every minute of this so far, never getting enough of the sweet taste of him. Pulling away for a second, he grabs ahold of your neck, keeping you in place while his free hand roam all over your upper body. He presses wet kisses to your jaw and chin, then comes back up to kiss your pretty lips once again, making the kiss grow sloppier and heavier. A string of Heeseung’s saliva forms when he momentarily detaches hisself from your lips, smiling down at you. It was more of a devilish smile though, a smile that looks like he was going to snatch the soul out of your body. You two play around on the bed for a bit, passionately kissing and enjoying each other’s presence.

“Come here baby,” Heeseung says, instructing you to get on top of him now, positioning himself behind one of the fluffy pillows on the bed. You do exactly as you’re told and get on his lap to straddle him, he grabs your face with his left hand to kiss you some more while rubbing your ass, harshly slapping it in the process. You wore the tiniest pink micro skirt with bows on the side, it was a mesh material and super see through. Heeseung loved the outfit you were wearing since it was a tiny two-piece crop top and skirt, adoring the curves and shape of your body in the least bit of clothing possible. Slowly lifting up your skirt now, he licks his lips when looking down at your bare pussy, teasing your entrance with his fingers. You quietly gasp as he rubs your soaked folds in an up and down, slow motion, making you subconsciously twitch from sensitivity.

“My god.. you’re so fucking wet babygirl,” Heeseung groaned as he slid two fingers inside, “look how much you’re dripping already babe.” he whispers, staring in awe at his fingers disappearing into your sweet cunt. The room’s filled with only sounds of your wetness, combined with the soft moans you utter, all the juices dripping down your legs and his thumb brushing over your clit was having you see stars.

“You hear that? That’s what good pussy’s supposed to sound like,” Heeseung brags while looking over at the camera, he’s taking this very serious, as if you’re going to end up posting this on PornHub or something. You loved it though and you can tell how into this he is, which only makes you want to do a better job at pleasing him. You moaned louder for him as his fingers go deeper into you, reaching those spots that you never could. Rolling your eyes back as he fingers you harder, he was soaked in your juices, obsessed with the view behold him. You match the movements of his pace, grinding against his digits whilst he reaches a certain spongy spot— feeling so close to cumming already.

Then he abruptly took his fingers out of your dripping cunt, denying you of your orgasm. You whined loudly, clenching again just to feel something, wanting more of him filling you up at this very moment. You childishly pout and beg for more, but he just shushes you and flashes a smirk at your whininess. “Don’t worry sweet pea, m’gonna give you exactly what you need..” Heeseung rasps, still staring down at your cute pussy, but this time spreading your lips apart. He ran his finger down to your clit once again to gently rub in circles, making it even more puffy and swollen. Basking in all your beauty as you threw your head back from the intense pleasure.

“Wanna taste you,” Heeseung’s voice almost sounds desperate, not wanting to waste another second. “Come sit on my face babydoll,” he motions for you to temporarily get off of him, lying down on the bed, requesting that you still keep your skirt on. Placing yourself onto him and comfortably sit on his face, his mouth attaches to your pussy quicker than you can form a thought, already ferociously sucking on your clit. His hands went straight to your ass, slapping each cheek every chance he could, forming blatant red hand prints on your butt.

Heeseung was eating you out like his life was depending on it, uncontrollably moaning his name over and over again. You were in a frenzy as you grind on his face, grabbing the top of his head as if he was able to even go anywhere, his face was quite literally glued to your pussy. Heeseung kept at it for what felt like hours, your juices leaking all over his face without a care in the world. Then all of a sudden you felt this weird sensation, something you’ve never experienced before. It was the same slimy sensation that was all too familiar, but just in a different hole instead. Heeseung was licking your ass, his tongue kept flicking it at first, but now he’s fully immersed into it. He’s never done this to you before but it felt so amazing, it felt just as good as him eating you out but had a distinctly different feel to it.

“You like it baby?” He asks when pulling his tongue away, replacing it with his fingers. His fingers go so deep in your little hole making you squeal out loud.

“Mmm… yes daddy, I do!” A string of moans escape you, sounding so pretty that it’s like music to Heeseung’s ears. Smirking up at you while his digits continue going in and out of your ass, planting a quick kiss to your pussy.

“Fuck, I love you so much my love,” even during moments like these, Heeseung still reminded you how much he adores you, going back to licking your sensitive clit while still fingering your ass. You were in utopia, lost in the magical feeling of his tongue and fingers doing wonders on you. Heeseung could totally be a pornstar if he wanted to, he had the looks, the skill, and stamina.

“I love you so much hee..” you mewl, closing your eyes from how intense all of this was. You can feel your release coming any minute and you only got louder for him, grabbing the strands of his hair, gripping it with everything you had. You were riding his face like a rodeo and he was more than here for it, his tongue never letting up on your clit. When he dragged a long stripe across your heat, that was all it took for you to cum all over his face. Slowing down your pace as you finally chase your high, smothering Heeseung with your creamy, juicy pussy.

“Goddamn babe, you made such a mess.” Heeseung grunts out when releasing you from his grasp, his face completely drenched with your juices. You come down from being on top and lower yourself to kiss his wet lips, getting a taste of you on his tongue.

Heeseung tells you to get up and stand directly in front of the camera, you immediately follow his orders. He makes his way over to you, ordering you again to get on your knees in a stern tone. Situating yourself down onto the floor, you pull his boxers down and his cock springs out freely from it’s barriers. Making steady eye contact with the camera while grabbing his thick, lengthy cock, the tip was so red and puffy, precum leaking out to make you even more hungry for him. You wasted zero time in filling your mouth with Heeseung’s cock, it felt so warm against your tongue, loving the prominent veins that would show when he was extra hard. You start taking in his length and getting a good rhythm going, bobbing your head up and down. Heeseung winces at the sensation, taking a fistful of your hair and slamming the entirety of his cock into your mouth. His length hits the back of your throat, coming into contact with your uvula, causing you to make a sudden gagging noise. The drool peeking out from the corners of your mouth becoming more apparent as he fucks your pretty mouth.

“You have the best lips for giving head babe,” Heeseung coos while sighing out and throwing his head back, “your mouth is so fucking good to me…” He couldn’t stop praising you, you were like an angel to him. An innocent angel that was only a freak for him. Heeseung starts to get a little rougher with you, forcefully pushing his cock even further down your throat, causing you to choke for real this time.

“Yeah just like that baby, choke on it,” he strokes your hair out the way to get a better look at you. He thrives off taking control of you, see how far he can push you, he knows you can handle it though, he does it out of pure love. “Like being stuffed with a mouthful of my cock, hm?”

“You’re such a dirty fucking slut, look at you,” Heeseung continues degrading you, “sucking my dick on camera like the filthy whore you are.”

You keep on sucking his cock as you look him in the eyes, the words he’s saying right now is all you need to hear for you to become even more of a dripping mess. Your wetness is only growing and it’s starting to spill onto the floor, oh how embarrassing…

Heeseung’s cock was buried deep inside your mouth, managing to fit all of him without gagging anymore. He’s trained you so well over the years it doesn’t take much warming up for all of him to settle in perfectly, it’s like it was made specifically for you. You stay like this for a while, feeling his fat cock throbbing in your mouth as you gaze up at his gorgeous face through your lashes, appreciating how much you admire him. You’d honestly do anything to make him happy. After awhile, you release him from your mouth and go straight to his balls, sucking them up like a vacuum. Heeseung moans out so violently that you think the neighbors could probably hear that one, your eyes grew wide as you didn’t expect him to be so vocal from that. Seeing the biggest smile etched on your boyfriend’s face.

“Shit.. you’re so good at that baby,” he compliments you again, holding the back of your head for dear life. You could suck him off for hours without ever getting tired of it.

He pulls you away from him, telling you to get back on the bed and to bend over with your ass facing up. You do so without hesitation and begin arching, ready for him to do whatever he wants. He proceeds to spread your pussy lips again, as if earlier wasn’t enough already, he dips his tongue back into your soaking wet heat. Your mouth goes agape, barely able to make a sound, only letting out a small moan as he continues, spitting a little on your slit and rubbing it in. He eats you out again while you look back at the camera, whimpering when he squeezes your left ass cheek and gives it a harsh slap. You whimper from all the stimulation, body vibrating as he chuckles at how adorable you are.

“Your pussy tastes so fucking good,” Heeseung is so obsessed with you, but it’s a mutual obsession amongst each other. He took a short break away from your wetness, “you don’t know what you do to me y/n.”

All you could do in that moment was moan like crazy, he was making you feel astronomically good. He licked a couple more languid stripes across your slit and gave it a little slap once he was done. Lifting his head up, he’s finally going to do what he’s been waiting for this entire time. He rubs your ass with one hand while stroking his cock for a little bit with the other, bringing the tip to the entrance of your slit and teasing your hole. His dick slipping in between your wet folds is driving you insane, making you want to just slide it in already.

“C’mon hee, fuck me alreadyyy.” You were practically begging for him to stuff you at this point, wiggling your ass against him, wanting nothing more than to be filled up by him and only him.

“Alright babe damn, always so eager for me,” he groans as he starts pushing his cock inside of you now.

A broken moan escapes from your lips as you’re feeling him slowly opening you up, your tightness already adjusting to his girth. He began fucking you from behind at a rough pace, giving you exactly what you needed the most. Heeseung grabs your neck once again and brings your back towards his chest, saying all types of dirty, sinful things in your ear while he relentlessly fucks you, slamming his cock in and out of you making you go delirious. Practically shoving his hard length into you, you couldn’t help but scream out in pure ecstasy. His cock felt like the best thing on earth and the more he slammed into you the more you didn’t want it to ever be over.

He was so big you could feel his cock in your stomach, all your insides were being rearranged by him. Your ass was jiggling on his cock so nicely, giving him an absolutely stunning view. Firmly settling your face back into the pillows again, while looking down at your ass he grabs your waist firmly with one hand, the other being on your right butt cheek which was severely bruised from him spanking you earlier. You were so beyond soaking wet that the only noises filling up the room were the gushy sounds of your wetness and the ceaseless thrusts of Heeseung’s cock going deeper in you than ever before.

“Just wanna fill up your tight pussy with all my cum…” Heeseung coos, sounding so pussydrunk from all the pleasure he’s feeling right now. “Show me how desperately you want my cum inside you,” he keeps going, urging you to give him more of a reaction, probably since you’re both on camera.

“Mmm… yes daddy, need you to fill me up and make your cumslut pleasee,” you beg for him to continue fucking you, bouncing back on his cock and making him growl. You wanted him to feel like he was on top of the world, like you were a drug and the only cure for his addiction was your pussy. He keeps thrusting into you erratically, his strokes getting messier and sloppier as he soon reaches his climax.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh fuckk—“ Heeseung belts out a string of curses as he fucks your tight cunt, “m’gonna fucking cum babe… so close..” he grips onto your waist tighter, indefinitely picking up his pace as he starts to see flashes of white invade his vision. He was fucking into you so hard and fast that you couldn’t think or speak coherently anymore, just saying random words and babbling the entire time.

“Hee I love you, I love you so much..” was all you were able to say, to which he replies with “I love you more” and continues fucking you from behind like the rent is due. Your eyes were permanently at the back of your head as you were absorbed in the utmost pleasure. Heeseung’s hand reaches over to rub your clit as he proceeds to hit all the right spots inside you, his cock felt so good, everything just feels otherworldly to you right now.

“Ah! Cumming babe, gonna cum—“ Heeseung lets out the deepest groan as he shoots his load inside your warmth, “Oh my god, fuck yes…” he felt like he was on cloud nine, thrusting into you with slowed movements while coating your walls with his thick hot cum. You contract around him, soon reaching your climax right after him, both of your releases mixing together inside of you.

Once he pulls out, your bodies intertwined with one another again, forgetting all about the camera that was still rolling. You aggressively kiss him, tongues mingling together as if you’re trying to swallow each other’s existence. You took a glance at the camera, checking the time on the screen to see that it’s been going on for almost an hour and thirty minutes now… Heeseung pulls away, noticing you looking at the camera, leaving for a quick second to finally turn it off. He faces back in your direction and presents you with the warmest smile, looking down at your thighs and eyeing the creamy mess that’s dripped down between your legs.

“Let’s get you all cleaned up, huh darling?” Heeseung cutely offers, gently kissing your cheek. His big boba ball eyes were staring right into your soul with nothing but admiration and love for you. The duality of his actions were almost surreal, he just fucked you like the devil reincarnated but then acts like the sweetest angel once it’s all over. You’ve always adored that special quality about your boyfriend.

[mrgoldmc26]

NewJeans Sex Adventures Part 1 ft. Danielle

Tags: Gangbang, airtight, blowjobs, facefucking, anal, creampie, anal creampie, facial, dirty talk and more...

Word Count: 11.9k

The following is a Fan Fiction and should be treated as such.

The morning sun was climbing higher into the Chicago sky. The Lollapalooza 2023 festival was set to kick off tomorrow, promising an incredible first day of four filled with concerts, parties, and unforgettable moments. This year’s lineup was nothing short of legendary, boasting artists like Kendrick Lamar, Billie Eilish, the Red Hot Chili Peppers, and, of course, NewJeans.

My friends and I were huge fans of the K-pop group, and when we found out they were holding their first-ever U.S. fan meeting the day before their performance, we knew we couldn’t miss it. The event was taking place at Block 37, a lively shopping center near Grant Park, and we were determined to be there early.

By the time we arrived, just after 10:00 AM, the line was already massive. It stretched along the sidewalk, past storefronts and around multiple blocks. Fans of all ages were buzzing with excitement, holding signs, albums, and posters, hoping to get them signed. The air was filled with snippets of conversation about favorite songs, theories about the upcoming performance, and shared anticipation. Light sticks and NewJeans merch were everywhere, giving the scene a vibrant, festival-like atmosphere.

"My god, I can't believe we are here. I'm so excited to meat them." I said.

"I know right? And the fact that we get to watch them perform live tomorrow for the first time??? This is going to be the best 48 hours of my life." Jake said.

"I can't wait to meet Minji. She's the one I want to talk the most with." Max said.

"What about you guys? Alex? Jake? Which member do you want to meet the most?"

"Haerin for sure. That girl melts my heart." Jake said.

"I will go for Danielle. She's so hot." I said.

"Well, we will meet them all, so I'm excited about every one of them." Jake said.

"I just hope we get in. I've been to multiple fan meet events. The lines are so big, they always have a person cut the line and tell the fans to leave, because they will not get in." Max said.

"Man, I hope that doesn't happen. I will be devastated if we don't get in. Doors will only open in five hours. I don't want to sit in a line for five hours, and then wait whatever time it takes these huge ass line in front of us to move forward, just to not get in." I said, already fearing the worst.

Thankfully, we came prepared. We brought a backpack with a bunch of food, water and snacks to keep us full, our NewJeans merch, and our phones and headphones. All we did until 3:00 PM was eat and listen to music. I had no idea what Jake and Max were listening, but if I had to take a guess, I would probably say NewJeans, which was exactly what I was listening, my favourite songs being ETA and Super Shy.

Despite all this, the time went by incredibly slowly, but sure enough, eventually it was 3:00 PM, and the doors opened. This, however, changed nothing for us, as the line moved just as slow as the time did. Two hours passed, and the three of us were still outside the shopping center, and the fear that we might not get in was starting to kick in.

That fear only grew bigger when we saw a security guard move towards us. Thankfully, he moved pass us, but he did do what we feared. He cut the line several meters behind us, much to the despair of everyone behind it. I couldn't even begin to imagine what those people felt, having their dreams of meeting their idols crushed by a very big, black security guard.

One hour passed since the security guard came, and we were still outside. By now, my legs and my back were killing me, and I could tell Max and Jake were struggling as well. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, trying to ease the ache in my legs. Jake leaned against the wall, rubbing his lower back, while Max kept bouncing on his heels to keep his circulation going.

To make things worse, the security guard came back, and he stopped right next to us, looking at the long line.

"Right here. Everyone behind the line, you can go. There will be no time for you to meet NewJeans." He said, as I felt my heart shatter into a million pieces.

"No...you can't do this. We've been in this line since 10:00 AM!!!" Max said.

"This is so unfair." Jake added.

"I'm sorry, man. It's just way too many people."

"Dude, we came all the way over from Europe. Please, I'm begging you. We don't have tickets for their concert tomorrow, too. This is the only chance we will probably ever get to meet them." I said, pulling out my best sad face.

I could see that he was thinking about it deeply. He wanted to let us in, but he didn't know if he should.

"Ugh, fine. Line ends after you three. No more people will see NewJeans." He said.

"Thank you so much, sir." Jake said.

"Yeah, yeah..." The security guard responded, before going away.

"Oh my god, Alex...well played. I can't believe he fell for that. You are such a brilliant liar."

"Thanks, ah ah. I can't believe that worked too."

Thankfully for us, the security guard never came back, and three hours later, we were finally inside. It was just a bit over 9:00 PM, and I could finally see the NewJeans members. The lines were settled in a way that every fan had to go in the same order of members: Minji first, then Hyein, Hanni, Haerin, and finally Danielle.

There wasn't that many people inside the shopping center, and the closer we got to the NewJeans girls, the more quiet it got. A lot of the security had also left, to the point that there were only two security guards inside by the time we finally came face to face with Minji.

Our conversation went smoothly. I was beyond happy, and I could tell that Max and Jake were also in dreamland. She signed all of our merch, and we moved on to Hyein. As soon as we had moved on from Minji, I noticed her getting out of her seat, leaving the table. I don't know why that confused me, but I always thought she would wait for the rest of the members so that they could all leave together, but I guess that didn't happen.

Much like our talk with Minji, the meeting with Hyein, Hanni and Haerin went the same way, and just like that, we were the only fans still inside the shopping center, and we were ready to meet the last NewJeans member, Danielle.

"Hey, Dani. The others and I will be waiting in the car. Don't take too long." Haerin said, before leaving the area.

"Sure thing. I only have these three cute boys to take care off, how are you guys?" She asked, almost making me faint on the spot, as I couldn't believe she had just called me cute.

"Oh my god, hi. I love you so much. My name is Alex, and this is Max and this is Jake." I said, introducing us all, unable to hold back my excitement, as I started putting the merch on the table for her to sign, and Max and Jake followed suit.

"So, what brings you guys here?"

"Well, you girls, obviously." Jake responded.

"Are you coming to the concert tomorrow?"

"Yes, we are. We can't wait. It's the first time that we are going to see you girls live." Max said.

"Oh, that's great. We can't wait to have you there."

"How has your day been?" I asked.

For the first time during our conversation, Danielle stopped signing our things, and she looked me right in the eyes, almost in shock.

"Oh my god...you are like, the first person that has asked me that today."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. I'm like, so tired. And I am starving."

"Well, my mom owns a small fast food restaurant just down the road. You could come with us if you want. We are also hungry. We've been sitting in the line since 10:00 AM." I said.

"Jesus, you poor guys. All that effort just to see us. I really appreciate it. I could really use a burger right now, not gonna lie, but I'm an idol. I can't go with you guys, I hope you can understand that."

"Oh, come on, Dani. Of course you can. We can be there in like five minutes. You have to try my moms burgers. She is the best cook ever."

"I would love to go with you guys, but I can't be recognized in public with three fans."

"It's super dark outside and there is probably nobody inside my moms' restaurant right now. Plus, unless you are Blackpink member, nobody is going to recognize you here in America."

"Mmmm, I guess you're right."

"The burgers are on the house by the way, if that helps." I said, making Danielle chuckle, as if she didn't have money to buy the whole goddamn restaurant.

She pondered for quite a long time, as she kept signing away our merch. I was super nervous, and I really wanted her to say yes, just so that I could talk to her some more and look at her beautiful face.

"I might not be an idol, but I know and understand what you go through. Your life might seem perfect on the outside, but I know it isn't. The busy schedules, the paparazzi, the haters, and lord knows what's in your contract that says what you can and can't do. For one night only, try to live a little. Come with us. It's just for food." I said, trying my best to convince her.

Danielle twirled the marker cap between her fingers, before tapping it repeatedly on the table, her gaze shifting between the emptying space around her and the three of us standing by the table. She leaned back slightly, her expression thoughtful, almost calculating.

“When was the last time you really had fun?”

“Goshhhhhh, so long ago, I can’t even remember.” Dani said with an exaggerated groan, her lips pulling into a small, wistful smile.

“It’s been...a lot of work lately.”

Danielle's gaze flicked between the three of us before landing on me. For a moment, I felt completely exposed, like she was peeling back every layer of my personality just by looking. At roughly six feet tall, I’d always thought I had a solid presence—enough to get noticed but never overwhelming. I could only hope my slightly messy hair, a casualty of the long hours in line, didn’t make me look completely ridiculous. Her eyes lingered just a little longer, and I caught myself wondering if she noticed the faint definition in my arms, the product of gym sessions I’d probably exaggerated when talking to my friends.

Jake and Max had their own charm—Jake with his sharp features and easy laugh, and Max with that natural charisma that could win over just about anyone. Together, we must’ve looked harmless enough, just three guys thrilled to be standing in front of someone we admired. The way Danielle’s expression softened, and her shoulders loosened, made me think we’d managed to put her at ease, at least a little.

"See, so come with us. Let loose for a night. You deserve it."

“Do you guys even have a car?” She asked, her tone light but still with a trace of skepticism about the whole thing.

"Yeah, I have. It's right outside. Clean interior too, I promise." I said, which resulted in a long sigh by Danielle followed by a small giggle.

"You won't give up, will you? Fine, I'll go with you guys, but I need to be back at the hotel before midnight, or else I'm going to get in so much trouble with my manager."

"Oh my god, I can't believe it. Yes, deal. Don't worry about it. It won't take long. We can take you there after we eat." I said, feeling absolutely delighted by the fact that she had accepted our offer.

"Alright. Just let me text Haerin real quick to let her know I won't be going with them."

Danielle quickly started tapping away on her phone, while the three of us were waiting patiently for her to finish, so that we could go.

"Okay, done. I'm all yours until midnight. Lead the way, guys."

The three of us lead her outside and into our car. It was already quite dark outside, so luckily Dani wasn't recognized on our way to the car, and after a quick five-minute drive, we arrived at my mom's restaurant. It was very rare for her to have customers this late in the night, and thankfully, we were the only ones there.

"Hi mom. How's it going?"

"The usual at these hours. Nothing to do, just wrapping up to go home. What are you doing here this late at night?"

"Grabbing some food, what do you think?"

"Oh, yeah? What do you want?"

"My favorite, of course."

"What do you guys want?" I asked, turning to the others.

"I'll take a double bacon cheeseburger, fries, and a Coke." Jake said, after thoroughly scanning the menu above the counter.

"I'll have a chicken sandwich with extra pickles, curly fries, and a Sprite." Max said.

"Good choice, Max." My mom chimed in, scribbling their orders down.

"What do you recommend, Alex? You know this place better than anyone." Danielle asked, her shifting between the menu and me.

"Hmm...it depends on what you’re in the mood for. If you’re starving, the BBQ burger is amazing—tons of flavor, and my mom’s sauce is the best. But if you’re feeling lighter, the grilled chicken salad is pretty popular too."

"You had me at BBQ burger. I like to feel full.” She said with a playful smirk that made my heart skip a beat.

"Great choice." My mom said with a warm smile, jotting it down before glancing back at me.

"Forgive me for asking, but I don't recognize you. Are you his new girlfriend?" My mom added, making my face turn red instantly.

"Wha—no! She’s just a friend! Well, not even—uh—we just met. She’s..."

"No, no! We’re not dating. I've just met him, actually." Danielle responded, as she briefly burst out laughing, clearly finding the whole situation hilarious.

"Alright, alright." My mom said with a knowing smirk, clearly enjoying my embarrassment. I cleared my throat, desperate to change the subject.

"Anyways, let’s grab a booth. Food won’t take long."

We settled into the corner booth, and Danielle sat right next to me, with Max and Jake sitting right in front of us. I was beyond nervous by the fact that the girl of my dreams was literally just centimeters away from me. It was a miracle that my heart hadn't bursted out of my chest yet.

"Your mom seems really nice. This place is cute, too. I can’t wait to try the food." Danielle commented.

"Thank you. You have no idea how happy it makes me that you're here. It's been such an honor to meet you and get the chance to talk to you." I said, feeling a little more at ease now.

The food didn't take long, and once we got it, all four of us started eating like we had never seen food in our lives. We kept on talking between bites, and Danielle was a lot more comfortable around us.

The four of us finished our meals, the conversation flowing easily and punctuated with laughter. Danielle leaned back in her seat with a content sigh.

"This was amazing. Thank you so much for bringing me here." She said, patting her stomach.

"Ah, you’re welcome. I’m just glad you enjoyed it."

"It's getting late. I really need you to take me to my hotel."

"No problem. Let's get going then." I said, thanking my mom for the food.

Danielle, Max and Jake chimed in with their own expressions of gratitude to my mom, who waved us off with a warm smile as we left the restaurant.

The drive to Danielle’s hotel was short but filled with easy chatter, the kind of banter that made it feel like we’d known each other for longer than just an hour or so.

When we pulled up outside the Pendry Chicago hotel, the bustling energy of the city seemed to melt into the quiet hum of the upscale lobby.

Danielle led the way to the elevator, and we followed her to the top floor, where her suite was located. As we stepped out, we spotted her manager standing near her door, his phone in hand. His stressed expression immediately softened with relief when he saw her.

"Danielle! Oh my god, where have you been?! I’ve been trying to reach you for hours!"

"I was just walking around the city." She replied casually, brushing off his concern.

"Walking around the city?" He repeated, his tone rising in disbelief.

"You know you can’t do that. It’s not safe, and it’s definitely not allowed!"

"And these three? Who are they?" He asked, glancing warily at me, Max, and Jake.

"Just some guys I met tonight." She said with a nonchalant shrug.

Before he could respond, Danielle turned to her door, pulling out her keycard. She pushed it open and glanced back at us with a raised brow.

"You guys coming in or what?"

My jaw practically hit the floor. Was she serious? I blinked a few times, trying to process what she’d just said. Slowly, I turned to look at Max and Jake, who were standing just behind me on either side. They looked just as shocked as I felt, their expressions almost comical as they pointed at themselves in unison, as if to say, 'Who? Us?'

I opened my mouth to respond, but her manager beat me to it.

"Absolutely not!" He exclaimed, stepping forward.

"You know it’s against the rules in your contract to have anyone in your room, let alone—"

"Let alone three guys I just met?" Danielle cut him off, her tone sharp and defiant.

"I don’t give a fuck about the stupid rules in my contract or what Hybe or Ador think. I’m not a child, and I sure as hell don’t need a babysitter."

"Danielle…" The manager’s voice softened, almost pleading.

"Look..." She interrupted, her voice lowering as she stepped closer to him.

"Keep this between us, and I’ll make sure you’re…rewarded, at another time."

The manager hesitated, clearly conflicted, before letting out a defeated sigh.

"Fine. But this better not come back to haunt me. And your reward better be good, like last time."

"It will not come back to haunt you, don't worry. Also, have you ever been disappointed by my rewards?" Danielle said firmly, a satisfied smile playing on her lips.

The manager gulped and shook his head. Danielle smirked before she turned back to us and gestured inside.

"Well? Are you guys coming in or not?"

We exchanged uncertain glances, but none of us hesitated for long before slipping past her manager and stepping into her suite.

The moment I stepped inside, I was struck by the understated luxury of the space. The room was sleek and modern, yet cozy, with warm wood tones and elegant furnishings that gave it an inviting feel. A plush king-sized bed dominated the left side of the room, its crisp white linens perfectly arranged. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched across the far wall, revealing a stunning view of the Chicago skyline glittering under the night sky.

A stylish seating area featured a curved velvet sofa and a low marble coffee table. On the side, a large desk sat near the window, holding an arrangement of fresh flowers and a leather-bound notepad stamped with the Pendry logo. To the right, I noticed a doorway leading to the marble bathroom, which I could see featured a soaking tub and a walk-in rain shower.

"Wow..." I whispered.

Jake and Max followed closely behind me, each of them equally awestruck.

"This is insane, man..." Jake said.

"It’s just a hotel room. You guys act like you’ve never seen one before." Danielle said, whilst chuckling, clearly amused by our reactions.

"Forgive me for breaking up this little moment, but what are we exactly doing here?" Max asked.

"Well...I like you guys, and I just simply wasn't ready to end the night. Plus, I love making my manager mad."

"So, what do you wanna do?" I asked.

"Hmmmm...I don't know..." She said.

"How about we play truth or dare?" Max asked.

"Or maybe...we could play spin the bottle!" Jake added.

"Why not both? We spin the bottle, and the person who spins it has to ask whoever it lands on either truth or dare."

"Sounds like fun. Count me in." I said.

Danielle stood up with a small, thoughtful smile and walked over to grab a glass bottle of water from the mini fridge.

We all moved to the plush, beige carpet in the center of the suite. Its fluffy texture felt inviting and warm beneath us as we formed a loose circle. Danielle placed the bottle in the middle, and we all exchanged excited but nervous looks before the first spin.

The initial rounds were hesitant, filled with safe, uninspired choices. Everyone seemed cautious, with most opting for truth, while dares remained untouched. Whenever one of us guys spun the bottle, and it landed on another guy, it led to awkward laughter and an immediate "truth" declaration. The room remained lighthearted, but the game had yet to gain momentum. It felt like everyone was testing the waters, unsure of how far to push the boundaries.

That wasn't until Danielle took her turn. Her bottle landed on me, and my heart rate skyrocketed.

"So, what'll it be, Alex? Truth or dare?"

"Let's change it up, for once. Dare."

"Mmmm...I dare you to give me a foot massage all the way until my next turn."

"A foot massage?"

"Yep. My feet are killing me." She replied, lifting her legs and resting her feet in my lap.

Danielle’s feet rested lightly in my lap as I hesitated, trying to figure out how to start. Her socks were pristine white, the kind that looked soft to the touch. My fingers pressed gently into the fabric, testing the waters.

"You know...you can take them off..." Dani casually said.

My hands stilled, and I glanced up, searching her face for any sign that she might be joking. She wasn’t. Her expression was calm but expectant, like she was enjoying my flustered reaction.

“Uh…okay.” I muttered, tugging gently at the hem of one sock. The material slid off smoothly, revealing her bare foot. It was delicate, her toes neatly shaped, her skin soft and slightly pink from being in the sock. I swallowed hard, suddenly hyper-aware of the intimacy of the moment.

“Much better.” She said, smiling as she wiggled her cute toes.

The second sock came off just as easily, and with her bare feet resting in my lap, the massage resumed. My thumbs worked into her arch with a bit more confidence, gliding over the smooth skin. Her foot was warm under my touch, and every so often, I caught her shifting slightly, relaxing into the sensation.

"Hmmm...that feels so nice." She said softly, leaning back on her hands with a satisfied sigh.

I tried to focus, but the quiet approval in her tone made it nearly impossible to ignore the heat creeping up my neck. Across from me, Jake and Max were barely containing themselves. Jake raised his eyebrows in disbelief, while Max shot me a thumbs-up, a grin plastered on his face.

I ignored them, focusing instead on Danielle’s feet. The game continued around us, but I barely noticed. Every so often, Danielle let out a contented hum, her feet shifting slightly as I adjusted the pressure.

"Alex? Alex???"

"What?" I asked, snapping out of it.

"Truth or dare?" Max asked. I was ready to just say truth, but he started moving his mouth in an exaggerated manner, almost like he was giving me a signal, and mouthing something along the lines of 'dare'.

"Dare."

"I dare you...to lick one of Danielle's foot."

The moment Max dropped the dare, the whole atmosphere shifted. A stunned silence settled over the group, the playful energy from earlier replaced with a mix of shock and nervous laughter. Jake widened his eyes, leaning back slightly, as if trying to process what he’d just heard. Danielle raised an eyebrow, her expression caught somewhere between amused curiosity and disbelief, her lips curling into a faint, teasing smirk. The tension hung in the air, not heavy or uncomfortable, but charged with the awkward excitement of a challenge that pushed boundaries.

Even though I wasn't that much into feet, given it was Danielle, I obviously wanted to do it, but I didn't know if she wanted it or not, and I wasn't going to risk this nice time we were all having, and potentially ruining a possible friendship with her. That was until of course, she decided to speak up.

"Well?" Danielle's voice cut through the silence, her tone light and teasing.

"Are you going to keep me waiting, or are you going to get started?" She said, tilting her head slightly, her smirk daring me to back down, but I wasn't going to, not now that she had given me the green light.

That being said, I was still a bit nervous, something she picked it up very quickly.

"Don’t worry, Alex. I’m not going to bite." Dani said, as she immediately put her foot on my face and started pinching my nose with her toes, giggling like a little girl, before I swatted it away, with a chuckle.

Her laugh was music to my ears, and it was enough to ease my nerves and give me the confidence boost I needed.

Without wasting another second, I gently grabbed her foot, and brought it up to my face. I gave a quick glance at her beautiful face before shifting my attention to her foot and started licking the sole.

As soon as my tongue hit her skin, Danielle tensed. Her toes curled, and a slight tremor ran through her leg. I paused, worried that she had changed her mind. But then, I caught the edge of her smirk, the slightest hint of pink in her cheeks, and I kept going.

Her foot had a salty, slightly sweet flavor, the taste of sweat mixing with something else, a softness that was undeniably feminine, yet strangely intoxicating. The more I licked, the more I wanted to explore her delicate curves and taste every inch.

My tongue dragged slowly over her heel, her arch, the top of her foot. Every inch of skin tasted clean, her natural scent mixing with a subtle, flowery aroma from her lotion.

She let out a quiet breath, her lips parting slightly as she relaxed. A small smile played on her face, her eyes half-lidded and unfocused, like she was enjoying the sensation.

Once I got to her toes, I dragged my tongue along each one, giving a teasing suck, before I put her big toe in my mouth and began sucking on it.

"Ohhh...fuck..." She whispered. Her eyes closed, and her head tilted back, her lips parting as she let out a breathy moan.

The sound sent a shiver of arousal through me, and I instinctively tugged on her toe, pulling it further into my mouth. Danielle gasped, her body arching, her eyes fluttering open.

"Ah, that tickles..." She said, giggling before pulling her foot away, and putting it on my chest.

"I'm sorry. I'm quite sensitive."

"You have nothing to be sorry about. It's perfectly normal." I said.

Danielle smiled briefly, before putting her foot away, and we resumed the game shortly after. She spun the bottle and it landed on Max.

"Dare."

"Whoa, you didn't even let me ask you, ah ah."

"Okay...hmmm...let me think..."

"How about this...I dare you to take off your shirt."

Danielle’s dare left the room in stunned silence for a moment. Jake and I exchanged wide-eyed glances, trying to process if we had heard her correctly. Max, meanwhile, froze mid-laugh, his bravado faltering for just a second before he quickly composed himself.

"You serious?" He asked, leaning back slightly as if to gauge her intentions. Danielle nodded, an innocent smile on her face that somehow made her dare feel even bolder.

"What? It's not that big of a deal." She said with a playful shrug, her tone light but undeniably teasing.

"Wait, really? Do you really want me to do that?"

"Yes, really. I'm already partially naked, so it's only fair someone else is also a bit naked." She said, wiggling her naked feet and toes around.

"Alright, no problem. I did not see that coming." He muttered under his breath, as he stood up and removed his shirt, revealing his well-built chest and abs, causing her to widen her eyes in surprise.

"Woah...your body is pretty amazing."

"Thanks..." Max said, blushing slightly before sitting back down.

"Alright, my turn now." I said.

I span the bottle and I finally managed to get it to land on Danielle.

"Truth or dare."

"Hmmm...truth." She said, much to my disappointment. I really thought she would've gone with dare at this point of the game, but maybe she just wanted to change it up. I quickly tried to come up with something to ask her.

"Uhmmm, okay...I got one. Have you ever made out with one of your bandmates?" I asked, and I saw Danielle's smile grow bigger and bigger. She didn't even try to hide it.

"I have...I won't lie, I have."

"Do you...care to say which member?"

"You only get one question per turn, Alex."

Unfortunately, I never did get that answer, as for the next few turns, Danielle was getting way too lucky with the spins, with the bottle somehow always avoiding her. That was until Jake spun it, and it landed on Danielle, after what felt like three or four full rotations.

"Truth or dare, Dani?"

"Dare." She said, avoiding truth at all cost, so that she wouldn't have to share who her NewJeans make out buddy was.

"I dare you...to kiss whoever you think the hottest guy in this room is."

At that moment, I thought there was no chance she would go through with it, but when she started scanning the three of us, it looked like she was genuinely thinking about this and going through with it.

Needless to say, I really wanted her to pick me. I was so nervous about the fact that it could happen that I didn't even see her looking at me. Our eyes met, and she quickly nodded two times. I barely had any time to process it before I saw her lean forward on her knees and plant a kiss on my lips.

The kiss was soft and delicate, just like her lips. Her scent enveloped me, and the taste of her sweet lips lingered, leaving me yearning for the moment to continue.

She pulled away before I could kiss her back, leaving me stunned and speechless, a charged silence hanging between us. Her eyes met mine again, and at that moment, I just couldn't resist her any longer.

I instinctively moved my hand to her waist, pulling her closer to me, right before planting my lips on hers. She wrapped her arms around my neck, her fingers tangling in my hair as we lost ourselves in the kiss, our bodies pressed together, a heat building between us.

This felt like it had been building up ever since we met just a few hours ago, and now that it was finally happening, all I wanted was for this moment to last forever.

It didn't though. Danielle pulled away rather quickly, breaking the kiss, but for good reason. She put her hands on my shirt, and began pulling it upwards.

"I think you're wearing way too many clothes, Alex."

As soon as my shirt was off, she kissed me again, but instead of going for it again and resuming our make out session, she stopped, and began crawling towards Jake, who had his jaw on the floor.

"Do y..."

"Shhh, shut up." She said, cutting him off with a kiss, as the two started making out.

Just like she did with me, she only stopped to take off his shirt, revealing his muscular chest, and then went back to making out with him.

I didn't know what was going on in her head, or why she was doing this, but it was pretty clear that she was enjoying herself, and was definitely enjoying the moment.

Their moment didn't last long, as Dani pulled away and shifted to her right, hoping to get to Max, only to find out he had gone behind and around her to join me by my side. She crawled to him, and he dropped down to her height, putting his hand lightly around her neck and making her look right into his eyes, before he started kissing her.

Danielle and Max kept kissing, and unlike with Jake and I, she didn't have to worry about taking off his shirt, as it was already off from earlier. They kept kissing for a while longer, before Max stood up, breaking their kiss.

What Dani did next surprised me even more, but was something that I had no issue with, and neither did Max if I had to take a guess. Danielle put one of her hands on his jeans whilst she put the other one on mine, and started rubbing both of our crotches at the same time.

"All of you are wearing way too many clothes."

"Wanna do something about it?" Jake asked.

I could see Danielle's smirk creep up again, and before I knew it, she had taken her hand off my crotch and put it on his. I had Danielle right in front of me, on her knees looking up at me as her hands kept rubbing Max's and Jake's bulges through their pants.

"I would love to do something about it."

Before anyone could respond, Danielle leaned in and put her face right in front of my bulge. She started rubbing her nose and lips all over it, and it took me a few moments to realize what she was trying to do.

At first, I thought she was only trying to tease me, but all of a sudden I saw her with my zipper between her teeth, and felt my pants slide down, at the exact same time she pulled Jake and Max's jeans down with her hands.

"Ah...much better." She said, another smile forming on her face.

"Dani, this is crazy!" Jake said.

"Shhh...just keep this between us."

"You don't have to worry." I said.

"Hmmm, good, because I really need this."

"I really need all of your cocks." She added, and just like she did with my zipper, she somehow managed to put the elastic band of my underwear between her teeth and pull it down, revealing my throbbing cock that hit her right on her chin.

"Oh, wow..." She said, her eyes widening in awe.

"Clean shaven, just how I like em'."

The sight of seeing my cock right next to Danielle's perfect face was one that was burned into my brain forever. Her lips were so close to my tip, and I could sense how badly she wanted it.

Jake and Max broke my little moment with her moans and I took a quick glance to realize Danielle already had her hands wrapped around their cocks, jerking them off.

"You have no idea how badly I need you guys."

Seeing them getting pleasured by her made me want the exact same thing, and she knew that.

With her eyes locked on mine, Danielle leaned in and started planting a few kisses on the tip of my cock, sending chills throughout my body. Her lips felt so soft, and the wet sensation from her tongue felt incredible.

"Mmm, fuck, Dani..." I moaned.

"Does that feel good?" She asked, smiling and pulling away briefly.

"So good..."

She leaned in again to get closer to my cock, but this time, I decided to play hard to get, and move my cock away, and put it against her face.

"Nooooooo...please, don't do that." She said, pouting and giving me puppy dog eyes, as if I had taken away her favourite toy.

"Do what?" I asked, to which it earned a roll of the eyes from her.

"Tell me what you want, Dani."

"I wanna suck your dick."

"Is that really what you want?"

"Yes. It's so big, and it looks so tasty and delicious."

"I just want it buried down my throat, please." She added, opening her mouth wide and sticking out her tongue. I couldn't resist her any longer, even if I wanted.

I grabbed hold of my dick and guided it straight into her mouth, letting her warm breath and tongue engulf my tip. I had dreamt of this moment more times than I could remember, but none of my dreams could live up to the reality of having Danielle's lips around my cock.

Deep down, I really wanted to grab her head and push her further down my cock, but I decided against it. I was more than happy to let her go at her own slow pace, and enjoy the feeling of having her suck the tip of my dick.

Danielle kept on bobbing her head back and forth, swirling her tongue around my cock, her lips wrapped tightly around it. I was in disbelief on how she managed to look so beautiful with my dick in her mouth.

"I honestly don't know how do you manage to look like an angel whilst pleasuring all of our cocks at once."

"That's because I am an angel, but I can switch it up if you guys want. I can be your naughty little cumslut for the night."

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah. Do you guys want that?"

"Absolutely. Get over here." Max said, grabbing a handful of her hair and pulling her over to him, guiding his cock inside her mouth.

He didn't force her to take his cock down her throat like I thought he was going to, instead just letting Dani suck his dick however she pleased. Danielle however was the one that surprised me, by rapidly sucking his cock from the very moment she had Max's dick in her mouth.

I didn't know how she managed to go from cute and innocent whilst pleasuring us to a total slut in just a matter of seconds, but I wasn't going to complain, not even for a second.

"Fuck, Dani, you are insane..." He moaned, bringing a smile to her face as she continued to pleasure him, all whilst stroking Jake and I at the same time.

When Danielle finally let Max's hard cock flop out of her mouth, and moved over to Jake to take him in into her warm throat, she replaced the left hand she had on my shaft with her right. When she reached out for Max's cock with her left hand and began stroking us off whilst rapidly sucking Jake, I knew this was far from the first time she's handled multiple dicks at once.

The three of us had shared quite a fair share of women between us over the years, and even though none of them were a celebrity like Danielle, we could still spot an experienced woman when we saw one. The way she never let us go unattended, and the way her hand and mouth switched between the three of us, proved that this wasn't her first rodeo.

"You seem to know what you're doing." Jake said, letting out a deep moan as she went all the way down on him.

"It's not the first time I've had three dicks around me."

"Oh, really? Do tell."

"Maybe later. I'm quite busy right now." She said, putting her lips around my shaft and starting to suck me off again.

Her sucking was more aggressive and rougher than last time, almost as if she wanted my cock to be dripping with saliva. Every single one of her slurps were loud and lewd, and it was clear that she wanted all of us to hear them.

"Fuckkk, all of your cocks taste so fucking good."

"Yeah?"

"Mmmh mmmh...I could suck your big cocks all night long."

It was clear to me that she wanted nothing more than to be passed around the three of us, and to be used for our pleasure, so I decided to use that to our advantage.

"I bet you could. Do you want us to take turns with you?"

"Mmh mmmh..." She moaned, nodding as she kept sucking my cock.

"I want to get fucked by all of you...I want you guys to use me like a fuckdoll."

"I wanna deepthroat that big dick of yours...make it nice and wet, then have you shove it down my tight little pussy."

"Then have you rail me, and make me scream as I take all of your huge cock deep inside me."

"I just want all of you to make me your little cumslut."

"Is that really what you want?"

"It's what I need."

"Prove it, Dani." I said, knowing full well that she was going to take that challenge.

She took a deep breath and opened her mouth, inviting me in, and I wasted no time pushing myself inside her. Danielle relaxed her throat and took every inch of me in, deepthroating my whole length until her lips meeting my pelvis, and her nose buried in my groin.

"Fuckkk, Dani...you're so fucking hot with my cock shoved down your throat.

"Mmmhh."

Danielle moaned around my cock, and looked up at me, her eyes watering slightly, but not even a hint of pain on her face. Her tongue ran along the bottom of my shaft, massaging it, and she kept bobbing her head back and forth, gagging a few times but never stopping.

Danielle was an absolute menace, and she was driving me wild. She put her hands around my legs and started pushing her head further down my cock, essentially impaling herself on it.

She held it there, my cock buried deep down her throat, her eyes closed, tears streaming down her cheeks. Then, her grip on my legs tightened, and she pulled back, slowly, her eyes widening, gasping for air.

"Fuck...so good. I love sucking big cocks like yours so much." She said, before she took a quick breath and went straight back down, her head bobbing faster and faster.

Her lips were wrapped tight around me, her tongue swirling and dancing along my length. It was clear she was trying to drain my balls and milk me for all I had, and I had no issue with it.

"I love how thick and hard your cock feels in my mouth."

Danielle might've been the one that was doing all the work, but it was me who was exhausted, and I could barely catch my breath. Never in a million year I thought I would ever be in this position, with Dani on her knees in front of me, my hard cock in her hand.

I could only stand there and moan her name, as she ran her tongue along the underside of my shaft, before popping my balls into her mouth, her tongue flicking over them as her hand ran up and down my dick.

"Ah...fuckkk, Dani..."

"You like that, baby?"

"Yes, it feels incredible."

"Good. I wanna make you feel so good." She said, resuming her blowjob with added intensity.

Danielle rapidly started sucking and stroking my cock at the same time, slurping all over it, her lips making lewd and sloppy noises. I was mesmerized by her, and the way her eyes rolled back every time her head bobbed forward.

The only thing better than her hands and lips on my dick was the fact that I was about to feel the tightest and wettest hole imaginable. My cock was throbbing in her mouth at the thought of getting to fuck her, and it was begging for release.

I tapped the back of her head to let her know I was about to blow, but, quite predictably, she didn't slow down, and instead she just bobbed her head even faster along my length for several seconds before deepthroating my cock in one swift motion, sending me to a point of no return.

"Fuck, Dani! I'm gonna fucking cum." I said as I held her head in place, making her gag on my cock, before my hips bucked forward as my orgasm hit me, and I started spurting hot ropes of cum to the back of her throat.

"Oh, fuck yes! Take all of my cum, Dani..."

Danielle gagged and choked as she took each and every shot down her throat, swallowing all of my load without wasting a single drop, and not stopping even when I let go of her.

I was still cumming when she pulled off, and some of my cum coated her lips and her chin, covering her in a thick layer of my seed.

"Fuck, I'm sorry. I couldn't help myself. I really wanted to taste your cum." She said, licking the cum off her lips and wiping her chin, before cleaning off her fingers and her palms, leaving no trace of my seed behind.

"Damn, you are such a slut, Dani." Max chimed in, for the greater good, as I really needed to catch my breath after my orgasm.

"Only when I want to..." She responded, grabbing hold of his cock and kissing his tip.

"Danielle, girl...before you have fun with Max and Jake...how about we get you naked." I said, struggling to get my words out.

"Oh my god, of course. I'm sorry. I was just so focused sucking your big cocks that I completely forgot that I still have my clothes on."

"It's alright. Come here."

Danielle quickly rose to her feet and I pulled her towards me, planting my lips on hers. We kissed for a couple of seconds before I spun her around. With her back against my chest, I started kissing her neck as I put hands on her shirt, and started pulling it up, revealing her sexy and perfect body, my hands immediately going to her chest and grabbing her tits.

Her breasts weren't big, but they were perfectly perky and had a nice round shape to them, with two adorable and cute little nipples on top.

I saw Max and Jake step closer and I knew what they wanted, so I started roaming my hands down her body as I lowered myself behind her. Danielle started moaning, and even though I couldn't see it, I knew they were having fun playing with her perky tits.

"Mmmm, fuck, yesss. Play with them...they're all yours."

I put my hands on her jeans and slid them down her legs, taking her panties off as I did so. Danielle was finally fully naked and ready to be used as she so badly desired.

I had the perfect view of her ass and pussy, the latter looking absolutely soaked. Her pussy was clean-shaven, not a hair in sight and her slit was glistening, her folds looking so smooth and soft.

Her cunt looked so inviting and I couldn't resist any longer. I moved a finger to her lips, running it up and down her slit, feeling how wet she was, her folds sticky and slippery at the same time.

"Mmmm, ohhh, Alex."

"You're already so fucking wet. Do you like sucking cock that much, Dani?"

"I do...I love it. Sucking cock gets me so horny, fuckkk." She moaned, when I inserted one of my fingers into her tight little hole.

"Yeah...I can see that. Do you want one in your pussy, baby?"

"Oh, fuck yes. I want you inside me."

"What about us, Dani? Do you want us inside you too?" Jake asked.

"God yes, I want you guys to use me."

"Do you think you can take all of us?" Max asked.

"Oh, I definitely can. All of your cocks are so big and thick and I can't wait to feel them inside me, but first, I want you two to take turns fucking my face and making me gag on your huge dicks whilst Alex rails me from behind." She said, whilst keeping a firm grip on their cocks.

"Is that really want you want, Dani?"

"Yes, please. I can't wait to get your big cock inside my pussy."

"Neither can I."

"Mmm, good, because I've been craving to be pounded by it."

"How do you want me?"

"On all fours, Dani." I said.

Danielle hastily got on the bed, assuming the position, and arched her back, her cute ass up in the air. I followed suit and positioned myself behind her, grabbing hold of her hips as I pushed the tip of my cock between her folds, sliding it up and down her slit, teasing her, but she was having none of it.

"Please, don't fucking tease me. I need you to fuck me right now. I can't wait any longer, Alex."

"Just stick that big fat cock of yours in me, fuck my brains out and ruin my pussy."

As much as I wanted to keep teasing her, I didn't want to get on her bad side, so I simply complied and pushed my dick past her folds and deep inside her pussy, making her squeal.

"Fuckkkk...god, you're so big and thick...this is just what I needed."

Her pussy was tight, but at the same time felt so wet and soft, and I could feel it squeezing my shaft as I slowly slid inside her.

"Ahhh, fuck, I could just stay like this forever. Your cock feels so good in me."

Her moans were music to my ears, but as much as I would've liked to savor the moment, I was desperate to fuck her brains out, so I pulled back, and slowly thrust into her again, letting her get used to my length and girth.

I could feel her juices run down my shaft and drip down her legs as I started picking up the pace, pounding her harder and faster with each passing second. Her tight little pussy felt amazing around my dick and it was impossible to not go fast and rough.

"Oh yesss...give it to me, Alex. Faster."

"And you two...come here and shove those cocks down my throat."

Max and Jake stood and watched our little show for a while before they decided to get in on the fun. They crawled on the bed, positioning themselves in front of Danielle.

Unsurprisingly for me, Max was the first one to take action, grabbing hold of her head and guiding his cock towards her open mouth. Danielle gladly took him, engulfing his cock completely and he didn't waste one second before he started face fucking her, using Dani for his pleasure.

"Take this cock, you fucking slut." He said, hammering away at her throat.

Danielle was moaning and whimpering around his cock, whilst her hands were busy playing with Jake's shaft, jerking him off.

It didn't take long before Jake got his opportunity to get a taste of her lips as Max pulled out, and Jake's dick entered her mouth, filling her up completely. Jake grabbed a fistful of her hair and held her head in place, as he started thrusting his hips back and forth, making her gag a few times.

"Holy shit, Dani, your throat is fucking amazing." He groaned, holding her head and pushing her further down his shaft, his cock disappearing down her throat, leaving her no room to breathe.

Danielle was a moaning mess, and the only thing she could do was take him deeper, her throat bulging and her eyes watering.

Soon enough, they started taking turns with Danielle's mouth, making her deepthroat their dicks for a couple of thrusts before passing her to the other.

Watching them both use her like a fuckdoll only added fuel to the fire, and the more she moaned and squealed, the rougher I fucked her.

I was balls deep inside her, her walls squeezing me with each one of my thrusts, and she was getting wetter by the second. My hands were moving up and down her back and her ass, and the sound of our skin slapping against each other was echoing through the room, mixing in with her muffled moans and their groans.

I couldn't stop myself from spanking her and slapping her ass, watching it jiggle every time my hand came in contact with her cheeks.

"God, you look so fucking hot getting railed from behind, Dani." Max said.

"Mmmmh. Alex...he's fucking me so good, goshhh."

"Yeah? Are you enjoying having our cocks shoved down your throat and pussy?"

"I am. I'm such a fucking slut for big dicks."

"Do you think you could handle both of our cocks in your tight little holes?" Jake asked.

"I would love nothing more than to have these two huge cocks inside my ass and my pussy." Danielle said, as she grabbed their shafts and pressed them together, before taking them both into her mouth, making her lips and jaw stretch wide.

Danielle's foul language made her even sexier and it was getting increasingly difficult to not just pound her and bust a nut. She was so tight and warm and wet and the way her pussy swallowed every inch of my dick, clenching and gripping it, was driving me crazy.

I knew that I had to slow down or else I was going to finish much earlier than I wanted, so I pulled out of Dani's tight cunt. I looked at her freshly fucked pussy and admired the sight in front of me. Her entrance was glistening and I could see a mixture of her juices and my pre-cum dripping out of her.

I couldn't help but reach out and rub her slit for a couple of seconds, before I dove in and started eating her out. Her cunt was even sweeter than her lips, and the taste was intoxicating.

My tongue explored her folds, flicking over her clit, making her hips buck and her ass push back against me. I could her moaning, but her voice was muffled. I could feel her getting wetter and wetter, and she tasted better than any other woman I had ever been with.

"Hey, Alex...could you give us a go? I'm dying to fuck her." Max said.

I knew how badly he and Jake wanted to have a go with her, but I wasn't ready to let go of her so soon.

"Just let me fuck her a little bit longer. She'll be yours in no time." I said, hurrying up to get my dick inside her.

Danielle was still devouring Jake and Max's cocks, making sure they were nice and wet for both of her holes when I slid myself into her again. I was determined to fuck her rough, and give her the pounding she wanted, and was no doubt begging for. I put my hands on her hips and started slamming into her, fucking her like as hard as I could, my hips slapping her ass.

Each thrust was fueling my lust for her, so I grabbed her hair with my right hand and pulled her off their cocks, pulling her towards my body and wrapping my left arm around her as I fucked her senseless, pounding her with deep and rapid thrusts, her perky tits bouncing wildly.

"Oh, fuck me, Alex. Yes, just like that. Do me hard, baby."

"You like getting fucked hard, don't you, Dani?" I asked, my arms now scattered around her perfect body, one playing with her tits and the other rubbing her clit.

Danielle was too lost in her ecstasy to answer and it wasn't long before she let out a scream, her pussy squirting on my shaft and coating it with her juices, before I let go of her, and she fell on the bed, right next to Jake and Max, who were stroking their hard cocks.

"Ahhh, fuck, oh goshhh." She moaned, her eyes rolling back, her orgasm sending waves of pleasure throughout her body.

"I.....I can't believe you just made me cum."

"I never cum with just one cock inside me." She added, making me smirk.

"Are you okay?" Jake asked, with a concerned look on his face.

"I...I couldn't possibly be better."

"She's all yours, guys." I said, making my way towards them so they could have a go at her.

"So.....which one of you guys is going to take my tiny little asshole?"

I didn't need a crystal ball to know the answer to Danielle's question, and the look on Max's face confirmed my suspicions. Danielle took a step to the side, allowing Jake to lay down on the bed.

"Come here, Dani." He said, beckoning her towards him.

Danielle slowly walked towards him and sat down on top of him, her pussy rubbing up and down his length.

"Oh, god. Fuck, your cock feels so good between my pussy lips."

"Mmmmh. It's about to feel even better."

Danielle rose to her knees, and took a hold of Jake's dick. She placed it at her entrance and slowly lowered herself, her pussy swallowing every inch of him.

"Ahhhh, fuck." She moaned, putting her hands on his chest, steadying herself as she looked into his eyes.

Max, meanwhile, positioned himself behind her, and began running his cock up and down her ass crack, his fingers caressing her soft and smooth cheeks.

"Are you ready, Dani?"

"Yes. Put it in and stretch me out."

I simply stood there in front of her, slowly stroking myself off whilst looking at her face, waiting for the moment her jaw would drop, and her mouth would open, and luckily, it didn't take long for that moment to arrive.

Danielle's mouth hung open, her eyes widening, as Max started pushing his cock past her tight little ring, sliding his dick inside her ass.

"Holy fuck...you're stretching me out so good. God, you're both so big."

"Yeah? Do you like the feeling of both of our cocks inside you, Dani?"

"Fuck, yes, I love it. I want you guys to make a slut out of me."

"Good, because we're just getting started." Max said, spanking her ass.

"Are you enjoying the show?" She suddenly asked, turning her attention to me, before licking her lips.

"I am." I replied, taking a step forward.

"Why don't you come a little closer so I can give you a kiss, Alex."

Without hesitation, I took a step forward and leaned in to kiss her, but she swatted my head away and shook her head.

"No, idiot...ah ah. Not that kind of kiss. I want your cock in my mouth, baby."

I honestly couldn't believe that a guy like me didn't catch on to that, but I quickly shook those thoughts away and put my dick right in her face. I slapped her face and her tongue with my hard cock before letting Danielle plant kisses all over my shaft, but mainly focusing on the tip of my cock.

I was so lost in the moment, that I hadn't realized that Max and Jake began thrusting in and out of her, their cocks moving in sync. Danielle's mouth was hanging open and I wasted no time putting my dick between her lips, filling her up completely.

Her eyes rolled back and I could tell that she was having a blast, and she wasn't the only one. I could hear the boys moan and groan and it was clear they were getting the same level of pleasure she was.

"You like having a cock in each hole, don't you, baby?" Max asked to no response, as I found out that Danielle would rather be airtight and keep bobbing her head up and down, taking me as deep as possible instead of replying.

The view of her head moving up and down my cock, her lips tightly wrapped around my dick and sliding down my shaft whilst both her holes were being penetrated and filled up with cock was mind-blowing and I knew it was going to send me over the edge sooner rather than later, so I momentarily stopped her, and pulled out of her mouth, not wanting to cum so soon.

"Fuck, why did you pull out? Put that cock back in my mouth, I wanna keep sucking it."

"I don't wanna cum so soon, and I really want to cover your face."

"Don't you dare cum on her face when I'm under her, mate. I don't wanna be in the line of fire when that happens." Jake replied, making Dani and I burst out laughing.

"Well, I guess I have to make you guys cum first, then."

I honestly thought things couldn't get any hotter, but when Danielle started bouncing on their dicks and riding them, they did. There was just something about seeing my two best friends fucking the shit out of my favourite K-pop idol in the world, and it turned me on more than I had ever imagined.

I could see their shafts moving in and out of her and their balls were slapping against her ass with each of their thrusts, as they started fucking her more rapidly.

"Such a good naughty little slut for us, aren't you, Dani?" Max asked, pushing his cock deeper inside her asshole.

"Fuck, yes... I love taking these big cocks. Fuck me harder and fill me up with your cum."

The boys picked up the pace and Danielle's eyes rolled back, her mouth open and her tongue out, her tits bouncing wildly. The way her moans were mixing in with the sounds of their skin slapping against each other was one of the most erotic things I'd ever heard.

"God, I wish you guys could fuck me all night long." She moaned, as her hands wandered around Jake's chest, her nails leaving trails on his skin.

"Are they fucking you good, Dani?"

"So good, Alex. Their big cocks are stretching me out so much."

"Sounds like you are satisfied, then. No need for me to join in."

"No please. I need your cock in my mouth once again."

"Do you, now?"

"I do. I love the taste of it."

"How can I say no to that?"

"You can't. So hurry up and fuck my face." She replied, biting her lip.

With no intention of keeping her waiting, I put my hand on her throat and started kissing her for a couple of seconds, and unsurprisingly, her right hand went straight towards my hard cock, gripping it firmly and stroking it as we kissed.

When I let go of my chokehold, Danielle wasted no time wrapping her soft lips around my dick. I knew she wanted me to fuck her face, so I was caught off guard when she took my whole length down her throat over and over again, basically impaling herself on my cock.

I could see her saliva drip down her chin, as her eyes were glued on mine, and the fact that she didn't stop deepthroating me, made it clear that she wanted to be treated like a slut, so I put both of my hands on the sides of her head and held her in place, before I started giving her the facefucking that she so desperately craved.

The three of us were working in sync, thrusting in and out of her, and it didn't take long for things to pick up speed. We were all so lost in our own little world that we didn't realize just how fast we were going, and it was only when my cock started hitting the back of her throat and she started gagging and choking, that I realized the extent of our speed.

I could hear Jake and Max moan, and I knew they were close, so I decided to pull out of Danielle's mouth and let her breathe.

"Fuck, you guys are going so hard. You're fucking me so good." She said, panting, her breasts rising up and down as she did so.

"You're taking these cocks so well, Dani." Max groaned, his voice laced with lust as he kept ponding her asshole with reckless abandon.

"Mmmh mmmh...use me like the slut I am."

"I want to be your little cum dumpster."

"I want you guys to fill me up with your thick, hot cum."

Danielle's naughty talk was on point, and seeing how much her body was moving every time the boys slammed into her, made me think that they must've been close to their own orgasms.

"Oh fuck, I'm so close, guys. I'm gonna fill her up." Max moaned.

"Do it. Shoot those loads deep inside me."

Danielle didn't have to wait much longer, before Max and Jake started painting her insides with multiple shots of cum, both groaning loudly, their cocks throbbing inside her as they emptied their balls.

"That's it, Dani...take this cum like a good slut." Max said, shooting the last few ropes inside her asshole.

"Damn, I can't believe I just came inside you..." Jake commented, looking into her eyes as she leaned in and kissed him.

"You did such a good job fucking my tight little pussy and filling it up. Thank you."

With Jake's and Max's loads having been taken care of, Danielle got off of them, their dicks flopping out of her holes, and their cum slowly dripping down her thighs.

"Now, it's your turn, Alex." She said, looking straight at me as she dropped to her knees on the carpet, and beckoned me towards her, her tongue hanging out and her hands cupping her tits.

"I wanna suck your big cock and make you cum all over my face."

I didn't need to be told twice, so I quickly walked towards her and pushed my cock into her mouth, her lips immediately wrapping around my shaft and sucking me off, her tongue flicking over the tip.

I had experienced many amazing sensations throughout my life, but nothing would ever top seeing Danielle with my cock in her mouth. She was desperate to make me cum, and began rapidly slurping on my dick, her spit dribbling down her chin and coating my shaft.

"God...I love sucking cock so much."

"I've been such a naughty girl tonight. Punish me, Alex."

"Fuck my face like you mean it."

Her filthy words and her actions were driving me wild, and I could feel my balls tightening. I grabbed a fistful of her hair and started pounding away, giving her what she wanted. I was fucking her mouth like an animal, her moans mixing in with the sloppy sound of her lips sliding down my shaft, and it wasn't long before I was on the verge of my orgasm.

I kept my cock lodged down her throat for a couple more seconds, before pulling out, stroking myself furiously and shooting thick ropes of cum all over her beautiful face, coating a vast majority of her cheeks and eyes with my seed, with some of it even landing on her forehead and hair.

"Mmmmh, yes, give me every last drop, Alex."

"Keep painting my face with your warm cum."

"Fuckkkk..." I groaned, emptying the last few drops onto her nose and lips.

"God, look at all that cum." Jake commented, looking at the mess I made.

"You look so fucking hot right now, Dani." Max added, looking at her with his mouth wide open.

"I do? Maybe I should take a picture?"

"Maybe you should." I said, jokingly.

However, I should've known that a slut like Danielle would've taken it literally. She quickly grabbed her phone and snatched a pic of her cum covered face.

"Now I have something to look at whilst I rub one out when I'm all alone at night, with no cock to suck on or play with."

As soon as she was done with the picture, Danielle began licking her lips, collecting my cum before swallowing it. Dani then scooped the rest of my cum on her face with her fingers, and licked and sucked them clean, as if she had just finished her favourite dish.

"Look at all that cum you gave me. It tastes so good."

"You are so fucking naughty, Dani."

"You don't even know the half of it." She replied, smiling as she sat down on the carpet, her back against the footboard of the bed.

We all sat down there, alongside Danielle. All of us were exhausted and trying to catch our breaths.

"I don't know about you guys, but I really need a shower. Can I use yours, Dani?"

"Of course. You can all take a shower before you leave, if you want."

"I'm going to the bathroom." Jake said, before stepping away, leaving me and Danielle completely alone, in silence. She rested her on my shoulder, and I rested mine on hers.

"Thank you so much for an incredible night." Danielle said, breaking the silence.

"Please, if anyone needs to thank someone, it's us." I said, just before I noticed a droplet of cum fall from her hair onto her knee.

"Damn, you guys really made a mess out of me, didn't you?"

"We sure did." I replied.

"You know...this doesn't need to be the last time." She said, leaving me a bit puzzled.

"I know you guys will go to the concert tomorrow, but how about you spend some time with me backstage before the concert?"

"Wait, really?"

"Yes. I would love nothing more than to go out there and perform alongside my friends, in front of thousands of people, with your load inside me."

"Don't you want that? Don't you want to see me perform, knowing your load is dripping down my thighs on stage?"

"I do. Fuck, I would love that. You're so naughty." I said, pulling her in for a passionate kiss.

For the next thirty minutes, we just stayed next to each other and waited until Max and Jake had taken their separate showers.

They waited for me, but I told them to go home without me, and they left the hotel room. After a while, I left Danielle behind and went to the shower, however she didn't want to wait until I was done, so she joined me, and we ended up having some more fun.

After a very extensive shower, I said my goodbyes to Dani, and headed home, where I immediately went to sleep, the memories of what happened during the night playing on repeat inside my mind, and I couldn't wait to relive it again, in a few hours, at the NewJeans concert.

[goldfades]

hiiii idea popped in my head seeing joey on the phone but like imagine he’s away and trying to help y/n get kids to bed but it’s hard since he’s away 🥰😭 sorry i have to share the imaginings happening :-))))

no, baby i love when people share their cute little ideas!!! i hope you enjoy this one<3

The second Joe’s face popped up on FaceTime, Hayes let out a dramatic gasp—like he had just seen a celebrity in the wild.

"Dada!"

You winced as his little voice echoed through the house, far louder than necessary. "Hayes, baby, inside voice," you reminded him, but it didn’t matter. The damage was already done.

From down the hall, you heard the unmistakable wail of your youngest, jolted awake by his big brother’s sudden outburst. You closed your eyes for a brief second, sighing, already bracing for the next half hour of chaos.

Joe must have heard it, too, because his face twisted in sympathy. "That bad, huh?"

You turned your attention back to the phone, where Joe was sitting in his hotel room, half-smiling, half-wincing, freshly showered with wet curls sticking to his forehead.

"That bad," you confirmed, shifting Hayes further onto your hip. He had his tiny fingers fisted in your shirt, but his eyes were locked on the screen, grinning so big it made his dimples pop.

"Hi, buddy," Joe said, his voice warm and fond.

"Dada, when you coming home?" Hayes asked, tilting his head.

Joe’s face softened. "Couple more days, bud. But guess what? We have a game tomorrow. Are you gonna watch?"

Hayes nodded enthusiastically, kicking his legs in excitement. "I wear my jersey!"

"You better. Gotta match me, right?"

Hayes nodded again, his little hands now gripping the phone like he could somehow pull Joe through the screen.

It wasn’t the first time he had gone through this phase. As you liked to say, Hayes had his "favorites"—rotating obsessions that switched every few months. Sometimes it was dinosaurs, sometimes it was a specific pair of socks he refused to take off for days at a time, and sometimes, it was Joe.

This was one of those times.

For the past couple of weeks, everything had been about Joe. Hayes only wanted to watch football, only wanted to play "catch" in the backyard, only wanted to FaceTime his dad 24/7. If Joe was around, you were nothing—completely cast aside.

Which, really, you didn’t mind. Because the way Joe lit up every time Hayes showed even an ounce of excitement over football or his job in general—it was worth every second of being ignored.

What you did mind, however, was getting him to sleep without Joe here.

"Okay, buddy, we gotta say goodnight to Dada," you said, shifting Hayes in your arms.

"No!" Hayes protested immediately, curling his little fingers into fists. "Not yet!"

Joe chuckled. "C’mon, H, listen to Mama. You gotta go to bed."

Hayes pouted. "Don’t wanna."

"Yeah, well, I don’t wanna deal with a grumpy toddler tomorrow, so you kinda have to," you muttered under your breath, earning a soft laugh from Joe.

"How about this?" Joe offered. "I’ll stay on FaceTime while you get in bed, and I’ll tell you a story, okay?"

Hayes perked up immediately. "A story?"

"Yeah," Joe grinned. "But only if you’re in bed."

Hayes was already wiggling out of your grasp before Joe had even finished his sentence, making a beeline for his room. You sighed in relief, grabbing the monitor from the counter before following behind.

By the time you got to his room, he was already under the covers, clutching his stuffed tiger, eyes bright with anticipation.

"Alright, let’s hear it, Burrow," you said, settling into the rocking chair, phone still in hand.

Joe laughed, then launched into one of Hayes’ favorites—something about a football-playing dinosaur that you were pretty sure Joe had made up on the fly one night, but Hayes had loved it ever since.

It took a few minutes, but eventually, Hayes’ blinks got heavier, and his tiny body started relaxing into the mattress.

By the time Joe reached the end of the story, his voice had dropped to barely above a whisper, and Hayes was out.

"Thank God," you sighed, carefully tucking the blanket around your son before stepping out into the hallway.

Joe was smirking when you looked back at the screen. "See? Easy."

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, ‘easy’ because you get to do the fun part. Try dealing with the bath time tantrums before you get cocky."

Joe laughed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I miss you, though. And I miss Hayes."

Your heart clenched. "He misses you, too."

"I’ll be home soon, I promise."

"I know."

There was a beat of silence before he spoke again, voice softer now.

"You’re doing such a good job, you know that?"

You felt it—the warmth spreading through your chest, the way your shoulders relaxed at his words.

"Thank you," you murmured. "Now hurry up and win so you can get back home to your biggest fan."

Joe grinned. "I think that’s you."

You huffed out a laugh. "Not even close. That title officially belongs to your tiny clone."

Joe laughed, shaking his head. "Fine. But you’re a close second."

And somehow, that was enough.

--

Joe had barely stepped foot through the door before Hayes came barreling toward him, arms wide, cheeks flushed with excitement.

Joe barely had time to drop his bag before scooping him up. "There’s my boy!" he grinned, pressing a kiss to Hayes’ chubby cheek. "Missed you, bud."

"Missed you too," Hayes said, but before Joe could even savor the moment, Hayes was already wiggling out of his grasp.

Joe blinked in confusion as his son ran right past him and straight to Maisie, who was lounging on the couch, scrolling through her phone.

"AUNT MAISIE!" Hayes shouted, climbing into her lap like she was his long-lost hero.

Maisie barely looked up, smirking. "What’s up, little dude?"

Joe stood there, stunned. Mouth slightly open, arms still mid-air from where he had just been cast aside like a used toy.

You were trying so hard not to laugh.

Maisie shot Joe a cocky look, ruffling Hayes’ curls. "Told you. I’m officially the favorite now."

Joe scoffed. "That’s not possible."

You snorted. "Oh, it’s possible. It happened while you were gone. Apparently, Maisie’s the ‘cool’ one now."

Joe crossed his arms. "I thought I was the cool one."

Maisie let out a dramatic sigh, adjusting her sunglasses (which she was still wearing inside, for some reason). "You had a good run, but the people have spoken."

Joe turned to Hayes, genuinely confused. "Buddy, what about football? What about watching game film with me? What about—?"

"I like Aunt Maisie’s music better," Hayes cut in, matter-of-factly.

Joe looked genuinely offended. "What’s wrong with my music?"

Maisie let out a loud laugh. "Oh my God. You’ve been replaced by Taylor Swift and the Encanto soundtrack."

Joe’s face dropped. "That’s not fair. Encanto has bangers."

"You don’t even know the words to ‘We Don’t Talk About Bruno,’" you pointed out.

Joe gasped, pointing at you accusingly. "You’re enjoying this too much."

"Oh, absolutely," you grinned.

Joe groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. "Unbelievable. Gone for one week and I’m completely irrelevant."

Maisie patted his shoulder. "It happens to the best of us, man."

Joe sighed, finally giving in. "Fine. But just so you know, he’s gonna want to play football with me again in, like, two weeks."

Maisie smirked. "We’ll see."

And honestly? You weren’t so sure. Because the way Hayes was currently clinging to Maisie’s side, giggling at whatever TikTok she had just shown him?

Yeah. Joe was gonna have to work really hard to win back his title.

[pucksandpower]

Don’t Let Go

Charles Leclerc x Bianchi!Reader

Summary: five times, spanning nearly three decades, that you and Charles held hands (a little treat for Valentine’s Day from me to you)

Warnings: mentions of Jules Bianchi’s death and depictions of labor

Based on this request

The Mediterranean sun bathes everything in warmth, and the beach is alive with laughter and the salty scent of the sea. Families dot the sand, umbrellas casting colorful spots of shade, and kids run along the shoreline, kicking up sprays of water that glint in the sunlight. You and Charles stand together, eyes wide with the thrill of the world around you, hands clasped tightly.

“Don’t let go, okay?” He says, giving your hand a little squeeze. His face is solemn, as if this is the most serious promise he’s ever made.

You nod with all the gravity a four-year-old can muster. “I won’t.”

And then his face breaks into a grin, eyes bright with excitement. “Look! Over there!” He points, and you both tilt your heads up to see a man spinning cotton candy onto a cone, a swirl of pastel pink and blue that looks like a cloud.

“Can we get some?” You ask, voice small and hopeful, like the entire day depends on this one piece of fluffy sugar.

Charles looks at you, then at the cotton candy man, then back at you. He lowers his voice, like he’s plotting something daring. “We’ll ask Maman, but … maybe we could sneak away?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “No, we’re not allowed.”

“Oh, fine,” he says with an exaggerated sigh, as if being five years old and following rules is already exhausting. “But if we did, you’d have to hold my hand the whole time.”

“I’m already holding your hand,” you remind him, swinging his arm a little.

He laughs, and then your parents call out, reminding you both to stay close, to not let go of each other.

“We’re not letting go!” Charles calls back, his hand still firmly in yours.

Together, you walk with your families through the crowded boardwalk, weaving around beach bags and coolers, dodging groups of older kids with towels slung over their shoulders. But then, in one sudden, disorienting moment, everything changes. A group of teenagers pushes through, their laughter loud and jarring, and somehow, in the confusion, Charles’ hand slips from yours.

He realizes it just a split second too late, his fingers grasping at air. He turns, panicked, eyes wide. “Y/N?” His voice is barely louder than a whisper, and in the noise of the crowd, it’s swallowed up.

You’re gone.

Charles stands there, frozen, heart pounding. He looks around frantically, calling your name again, louder this time. “Y/N!”

He sees nothing, only the sea of legs and sunburned shoulders and wide-brimmed hats. His heart races, and his chest feels tight. He can’t lose you — not like this. He bolts back to where your parents are, his voice high-pitched and breathless.

“Maman! Y/N … she … she’s gone!”

The look on his mother’s face goes from confusion to alarm in an instant. “Gone? What do you mean, gone?”

“We were holding hands, but … but then-” He’s trying to explain, but the words feel sticky in his mouth, and he can barely get them out. “She’s gone! She’s not here!”

Your mother’s face pales as she clutches Charles’ arm, her eyes darting around. “Where did you last see her?”

“There!” He points back toward the spot by the cotton candy vendor, but it’s as if the place has transformed in the few seconds you’ve been gone. Nothing looks the same. Every face, every family, every child blends together into a blur.

The panic spreads, rippling through the small group of adults as they start scanning the crowd, calling your name with voices that tremble.

Charles stands rooted, clutching at his mother’s hand. It’s all his fault. He let go. He was supposed to keep you safe. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, feeling tears start to sting at his eyes. “I didn’t mean to …”

Your father places a hand on Charles’ shoulder, his voice calm but with an edge of urgency. “Stay with your mother, Charles. We’re going to find her, okay?”

But even as the adults scatter, scanning the faces in the crowd, calling your name with increasing desperation, Charles can’t just stand there. He looks up at his mother, his voice tiny. “I want to help.”

“Charles-”

“I have to help,” he insists, tears slipping down his cheeks. “Please. I promised I wouldn’t let go.”

There’s a pause, then a nod. His mother’s grip tightens on his shoulder, as if grounding him. “Stay close, mon chéri. We’ll find her.”

Together, they start moving through the crowd, calling your name. Charles’ voice cracks each time he says it, and with every passing minute, his chest feels heavier. He keeps glancing around, hoping to see your face, to see you waving back at him with that little smile. But all he sees are strangers.

The minutes stretch, dragging into what feels like hours. He begins to wonder if maybe you’re lost forever, that maybe this is his punishment for letting go, for letting his fingers slip from yours.

And then, in the distance, he catches sight of a cluster of people gathered near a lifeguard stand. His heart skips a beat. He grabs his mother’s hand, tugging her in that direction. “There! I think … I think I see her!”

They make their way through the crowd, weaving between the umbrellas and beach chairs. As they get closer, Charles’ heart beats faster, and he barely dares to breathe. And then, finally, he sees you.

You’re sitting on the edge of a bench, a scrape on your knee, a police officer crouched in front of you with a first-aid kit. Your eyes are red, and you look so small, clutching the edge of the bench like it’s your lifeline.

“Y/N!” Charles shouts, breaking into a run.

You look up, and the relief that washes over your face makes his heart soar. Before he even knows what he’s doing, he’s running up to you, arms wrapping around you tightly. “I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry!”

You sniff, burying your face in his shoulder, and for a moment, the two of you just cling to each other, letting the world fall away.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, though your voice wobbles a little.

Charles pulls back just enough to look at your scraped knee, his face scrunched up in worry. “Does it hurt?”

You nod, biting your lip. “A little.”

“I shouldn’t have let go,” he says, voice choked with guilt. “I promised I wouldn’t.”

You reach for his hand, holding it tightly. “It wasn’t your fault.”

But he shakes his head, and there’s a fierce determination in his eyes. “I’m never letting go again,” he says, as if the promise itself is enough to keep you safe.

The adults gather around, relieved but still shaken, fussing over you and asking if you’re alright. But for Charles, none of that matters. All he cares about is that you’re here, safe, with his hand in yours.

And this time, he’s never letting go.

***

The sky is a steely gray, heavy with clouds that seem to press down on the earth. There’s a chill in the air, one that makes the hairs on your arms stand up as you stand at the back of the chapel, your hand locked in Charles’. His grip is firm, steady, and you cling to it like it’s the only thing tethering you to the ground.

There’s a silence that fills the chapel, a thick, suffocating silence punctuated only by soft sobs and the occasional clearing of a throat. People fill the pews, faces somber, eyes red-rimmed. Friends, family, teammates — people who loved Jules, people who are hurting. But none of it quite feels real. Like you’re stuck in some strange dream that you can’t wake up from.

Charles squeezes your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a way that’s meant to be soothing. He leans in close, voice barely a whisper. “Are you okay?”

You shake your head, eyes fixed on the casket at the front of the room, draped with flowers, a picture of Jules propped up beside it. “No,” you murmur. “I don’t … I don’t think I’ll ever be okay again.”

Charles’ hand tightens around yours. “Me neither.”

The words hang between you, a shared understanding, a grief that you both carry but can’t seem to put into words. You look up at him, at the tightness in his jaw, the way his eyes are fixed forward, like he’s afraid to let his emotions show. And yet his hand never leaves yours.

The service begins, a series of voices taking turns, sharing memories, stories that make people laugh, others that draw out quiet tears. You sit through it all, barely moving, your hand clenched in Charles’ so tightly that your fingers start to go numb. But you don’t let go. You can’t let go. Not now.

When it’s time for your parents to speak, you feel yourself tense, fighting back the tears that have been threatening to spill over all morning. Your mother’s voice cracks as she starts, her words halting, her grief so raw it’s like a wound ripped open. You stare down at your lap, feeling the weight of it all press down on your chest.

Charles leans over, voice low and soothing. “If you want to leave, just say the word, alright?”

You shake your head, blinking back tears. “No … I want to stay. I need to stay.”

He nods, pulling you closer, and you feel his arm around your shoulders, warm and steady. “Okay. I’m right here.”

The room blurs, faces and voices blending together. Your mind drifts, memories of Jules flashing through your mind, moments you thought you’d have forever but now feel so achingly out of reach. His laugh, the way he used to ruffle your hair, the way he’d tease you and then instantly apologize whenever he saw you starting to get annoyed. The last time you saw him, hugging him goodbye before he left for his race, the way he promised to bring you back a souvenir from Japan. And now he’s gone, and it feels impossible to wrap your head around.

You glance at Charles, who’s staring ahead, his expression stoic but his eyes filled with pain. He’s hurting, too. You know how close he was with Jules, how much he looked up to his godfather. And somehow, even in his own grief, he’s here, holding you up.

When the service ends, everyone slowly files out of the chapel, moving in a quiet procession to the gravesite. Charles doesn’t let go of your hand, guiding you through the crowd with a quiet determination, shielding you from the sympathetic looks and soft murmurs of condolences.

As you stand by the gravesite, surrounded by people but feeling more alone than ever, Charles keeps you grounded. You barely hear the words the priest is saying, barely register the people around you. All you can focus on is Charles’ hand in yours, his steady presence, the way he keeps glancing over at you, checking to make sure you’re okay.

And then, the moment comes. Charles takes a deep breath, his hand slipping from yours for the first time since you arrived at the chapel. He gives you a look, one that’s filled with so much understanding and pain and strength that it nearly breaks you all over again.

“I have to go,” he says softly, his voice choked.

You nod, even though you don’t want him to leave. “I know.”

He hesitates, looking at you like he wants to say something more, but the words seem to catch in his throat. Instead, he reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

“I’ll be right back,” he whispers. “I promise.”

And then he’s gone, moving to join the other men, their faces grim as they prepare to carry the casket. You watch as they lift it, your heart twisting with every step they take, each one a reminder of the finality of it all. It’s real now, in a way that it wasn’t before.

Jules is really gone.

You stand there, watching as they carry him to his final resting place, feeling like your heart is breaking into a million pieces. Tears blur your vision, and you quickly wipe them away, but it doesn’t matter. There’s no hiding from the pain.

When they lower the casket into the ground, you feel a fresh wave of grief wash over you. It’s like losing him all over again, like the wound has been ripped open and there’s no way to stop the bleeding. You cover your mouth, a sob escaping despite your best efforts.

And then, suddenly, Charles is there again, slipping his hand back into yours, pulling you close. His own eyes are red, his face streaked with tears he can no longer hold back. He wraps his arm around you, and for a moment, the two of you just stand there, clinging to each other, letting the grief wash over you.

You bury your face in his shoulder, letting yourself cry, letting yourself feel the full weight of it all. Charles holds you tightly, his hand rubbing gentle circles on your back, his voice a soft murmur. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

You don’t know how long you stand like that, lost in the pain, but eventually, the crowd starts to disperse, people offering quiet words of sympathy before leaving. You barely register any of it, your focus entirely on Charles, on the way he keeps holding you, grounding you.

When it’s just the two of you left by the gravesite, Charles finally pulls back, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He looks at you, his expression soft but filled with an intensity you’ve never seen before.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say,” he admits, voice hoarse. “I don’t have the right words for this.”

You shake your head, your own voice barely a whisper. “There aren’t any right words.”

He nods, swallowing hard, and then, after a moment, he takes your hand again. “Do you want to sit? Or … walk?”

“Walk, I think,” you say, your voice shaky.

He leads you away from the gravesite, his hand still holding yours, and the two of you walk in silence for a while, the weight of the day pressing down on you like a physical thing. The cemetery is quiet, save for the soft rustle of leaves in the wind, and you let the calmness settle over you, soothing some of the ache in your chest.

After a while, Charles speaks, his voice soft. “I miss him too, you know.”

You look up at him, surprised. “I know.”

He hesitates, looking down at his feet. “I looked up to him. He was … I don’t know. He was like a second big brother.”

You nod, understanding completely. “He was the best. He always made everything seem … possible.”

Charles smiles, a bittersweet expression that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. He did.”

For a moment, the two of you just stand there, letting the silence fill the space between you. And then Charles lets out a shaky breath, his hand tightening around yours. “I’m not going anywhere, you know. I’m here. For whatever you need.”

You feel a fresh wave of tears prick at your eyes, but this time, it’s not just from grief. There’s something else there, something warmer, something that feels like hope.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

He nods, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand in a gentle, comforting way. “We’ll get through this,” he says quietly. “Together.”

And somehow, standing there with Charles, his hand in yours, you believe him.

***

The paddock buzzes with energy — the sound of engines mixing with the hum of reporters and the fast-paced clatter of team members shuffling between garages. The air is thick with the scent of fuel, rubber, and anticipation. But for all the excitement and all the people around, Charles only seems to have eyes for you.

He’s been gripping your hand tightly since you both walked through the gates, his eyes flicking nervously over every inch of the bustling scene as if he’s trying to take it all in at once.

“You okay?” You ask, squeezing his hand.

“Yeah, of course,” he says quickly, but his voice betrays him, a touch higher than usual.

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a knowing look. “Charles …”

“What? I am,” he insists, flashing you a grin that’s a little too bright, a little too quick. “I mean … you’re okay, right?” His tone shifts, softer, more concerned. “I know how you get sometimes with all the noise and people.”

You almost laugh but hold back, letting him keep up the charade. “I’m fine.”

He glances around, still keeping a firm grip on your hand as he leads you down the paddock walk. “I just don’t want you to be … I don’t know, uncomfortable or something. This place is … chaotic.”

You glance at him, taking in the way his jaw is clenched, his brows drawn together. “I think I’ll manage,” you say, your tone soft, teasing. “If anything, I think you might be the one who’s a little uncomfortable.”

His head jerks up, and he looks at you with wide eyes, feigning innocence. “Me? Uncomfortable? No, not at all.”

You smile, brushing a thumb over the back of his hand. “Good to know, because I’d hate for you to be nervous or anything.”

He clears his throat, casting a quick glance around as if looking for a way to escape the conversation. “Well, I’m not,” he says, his voice firm, though he still refuses to let go of your hand. “I’m just … making sure you’re okay.”

“Of course you are,” you say, unable to hold back your grin.

He leads you toward his team’s hospitality suite, and you can see the Alfa Romeo logo emblazoned on the side. He hesitates at the door, glancing at you as if he’s not sure if he should go in or not.

“I’ll be right here,” you reassure him, squeezing his hand again.

He nods, but instead of letting go, he steps closer, looking down at you with that soft, serious expression that makes your heart skip a beat. “Promise you won’t go anywhere?”

You tilt your head, amused. “Where would I even go?”

“I don’t know. Just … promise.”

“Promise.”

That seems to settle him, at least a little. He takes a deep breath, nodding to himself before pushing the door open and leading you inside. The room is a hive of activity — strategists and engineers clustered around screens, mechanics talking in low voices as they discuss parts and plans.

“Charles! You made it!” A tall man with a headset and clipboard hurries over, offering him a firm handshake. “Ready for your first big day?”

Charles nods, but his hand tightens around yours again, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Yeah, ready as I’ll ever be.”

The man’s eyes flicker to you, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Ah, and who do we have here?”

Charles glances at you, then back at the man, standing a little straighter. “This is Y/N,” he says, his voice filled with a quiet pride. “She’s … she’s here with me.”

“Ah, got it,” the man says, giving you a polite nod. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. Quite a day to be here, huh?”

You nod, giving a small smile. “It’s definitely … exciting.”

Charles looks at you, his expression softening. “Yeah, she’s a bit nervous, so … I thought it’d be good if she could stick around.”

You bite back a smile, deciding not to correct him. If he wants to pretend that you’re the one with nerves jangling out of control, you’ll let him. “You’re very thoughtful, Charles.”

He grins, looking relieved, as if your words have eased some hidden weight off his shoulders. “Well, someone’s got to keep you calm, right?”

The team member chuckles, clapping Charles on the shoulder. “You’re in good hands, then.”

As the man walks away, Charles pulls you closer, lowering his voice. “See? I told you I’m just making sure you’re okay.”

You roll your eyes but squeeze his hand, letting him believe his little fiction for now. He needs this, you can tell — needs you here, needs the quiet reassurance of your presence.

He leads you through the paddock, his grip on your hand never faltering. Every so often, he pauses to introduce you to someone, his voice filled with a quiet pride each time he says, “This is Y/N, my girlfriend.”

You smile and nod, feeling the warmth in his words, the way he seems to draw strength from saying them out loud. Each introduction, each little moment, seems to ease some of the tension in his shoulders.

Eventually, you make your way to the garage, where his car is waiting, sleek and gleaming under the bright lights. Charles stops in his tracks, his gaze fixed on the car, his eyes wide with a mixture of awe and nerves.

“Wow,” he breathes, his voice barely a whisper.

You look up at him, watching the way his expression shifts, the excitement and fear flickering across his face. “You okay?”

He nods slowly, not taking his eyes off the car. “Yeah … yeah, I am.”

For a moment, he seems lost in thought, his hand loosening in yours as he stares at the car. Then, as if snapping out of a trance, he turns to you, his expression softening. “Can you stay right here? I just … need to check something real quick.”

“Of course,” you say, giving his hand one last squeeze before letting go.

He steps forward, reaching out to touch the car, his fingers brushing over the cool metal. You watch as he takes a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling, and you can almost feel the weight of his emotions — this dream he’s been chasing for so long, finally within reach.

After a few minutes, he turns back to you, his face a little calmer, a little more settled. He walks over, taking your hand again without a word, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Thank you,” he says softly.

“For what?”

“For being here. For … everything.”

You smile, leaning into him. “Always.”

He nods, his gaze dropping to the ground. “I don’t think I could do this without you.”

“You’d be fine, Charles,” you say, nudging him playfully. “But I’m glad you want me here.”

He chuckles, his fingers threading through yours. “I’d probably be a wreck without you.”

You both stand there for a moment, letting the quiet settle around you. And then, suddenly, one of his engineers approaches, clipboard in hand, looking a little flustered.

“Charles, we need you in the strategy meeting. Now.”

Charles tenses, his grip on your hand tightening. “Right … okay.”

The engineer hesitates, his gaze flickering to you. “It’s … it’s a closed meeting. I’m sorry, but your guest can’t come in.”

Charles’ face falls, a slight pout forming as he looks down at you, his expression almost pleading. “But … she’s with me.”

The team member shifts uncomfortably. “I understand, but it’s policy. Only team members and essential personnel.”

Charles’ pout deepens, his eyes fixed on the man. “But she’s … she’s my good luck charm. And besides, she’s nervous.”

You stifle a laugh, watching as Charles’ pout turns into a full-fledged puppy-dog look. It’s so endearing, and clearly, the team member is wavering.

“Please?” Charles says, his voice soft, almost childlike. “Just this once?”

The team member sighs, glancing between you and Charles before finally relenting. “Fine. But she has to sign a confidentiality agreement. A dozen of them, actually.”

Charles’ face lights up, and he turns to you, grinning. “See? You get to come with me.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Well, if I’m signing my life away…”

He leans down, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. “Thank you.”

Together, you follow the team member into the conference room, where a stack of paperwork awaits. Charles never lets go of your hand, even as you pick up the pen, signing each NDA with his fingers intertwined with yours.

As you finish the last signature, Charles looks at you, his eyes filled with a quiet, grateful warmth. “Now we’re ready,” he says softly, his voice steady, sure.

And as you walk into the meeting room together, hand in hand, you know that, no matter what happens out on the track, you’ll be by his side — just as you’ve always been.

***

The lights pulse in dizzying shades of blue and red, the music thrumming deep enough to shake the walls of the crowded club. The place is packed — friends, family, team members, strangers all shoulder to shoulder, all there for one reason: to celebrate Charles’ win at the Monaco Grand Prix. His first home victory. The energy is electric, and the night feels like a dream he’s been waiting his whole life to have.

Charles is beside you, his arm draped heavily around your shoulders, his hand gripping yours like he’ll lose himself if he lets go. His eyes are bright, and his laughter fills the air as he turns to you for the hundredth time tonight.

“Can you believe it?” He shouts over the music, eyes wide, dazed with disbelief and the effects of far too many celebratory drinks. “We did it! I did it!”

“You did, Charles!” You say, grinning up at him, matching his energy. “You won Monaco. Your home race!”

He lets out a roar of joy, pulling you close, swaying unsteadily as he laughs. “Home race!” He echoes, like he’s trying to savor the words, rolling them over his tongue. “Did you see it, though? Did you see it happen?”

“I saw it,” you assure him, laughing. “I think everyone saw it!”

He laughs, a sound so bright it’s almost childlike, and then he leans close, lowering his voice like he’s about to share a secret with you. “I really thought I’d never get it, you know? It’s Monaco. It’s just … Monaco.”

You squeeze his hand. “You deserved this one. More than anyone else.”

He tilts his head, considering your words, his gaze unfocused but sincere. “Do you really think so?”

“Of course I do,” you say, your voice strong enough to cut through the noise, and he nods, satisfied, the smile on his face softer now, less manic.

But then someone calls his name from across the room, and Charles is yanked back into the whirlwind. He lifts his drink — something fizzy and definitely too strong — and waves it around with a cheer. The crowd erupts in applause, chanting his name like he’s royalty.

“Charles! Charles! Charles!”

He takes a deep gulp of his drink, wincing as he swallows, then laughs, shaking his head as if he can’t believe any of this is real. “All these people …” he mutters, glancing at you with a slightly drunken smile. “Do they even know me? Really?”

You chuckle, squeezing his hand a little tighter. “I think they know you well enough to celebrate. Besides,” you tease, “I’m here. That should be enough, right?”

“More than enough,” he says, his gaze fixed on you, intense even in his inebriated state. “You’re … you’re the reason I’m even here.”

You laugh, brushing it off, but he shakes his head, suddenly serious.

“No, really.” His words are slurred but sincere. “You — remember all those times I thought I’d never make it? You were there. And now look at us. Monaco! My Monaco.”

You smile, feeling the warmth of his words, the affection that cuts through the chaos of the club. “I’m so proud of you.”

He grins, his face lighting up like he’s just won all over again. “Say that again.”

“I’m so proud of you, Charles.”

He beams, then tugs you closer, spinning you in a clumsy half-circle that nearly sends both of you toppling over. “You’re coming with me, always. Even if I’m-” He fumbles for words, laughing. “Even if I’m old and can’t drive anymore. You’re coming with me.”

“Wherever you go,” you say softly, humoring him as he wobbles, leaning his full weight against you.

“Wherever I go,” he repeats, nodding as if this is the most important promise he’s ever made. He glances down at your joined hands, lifting them for a moment as if to check they’re still there. Then, just as quickly, he clutches them to his chest. “You’re my good luck charm, you know that?”

“You’ve told me,” you say, laughing. “Probably about fifty times tonight.”

“Then fifty-one,” he declares, raising your hand like he’s holding a trophy. “You’re my good luck charm!”

“Okay, Charles,” you say, glancing around at the curious looks people are starting to give you. “Maybe a little less shouting?”

He scoffs, his face scrunching up in indignation. “Shouting? I’m not shouting!” Then he laughs at himself, realizing he’s practically yelling.

You shake your head, laughing as he leans in close, his breath warm against your ear. “But really,” he murmurs, his voice dropping. “Thank you for everything. I wouldn’t have done any of this without you.”

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and you feel your throat tighten, emotions welling up. But before you can respond, someone else is clapping him on the back, dragging him back into the raucous celebration. He goes willingly, laughing as he lifts his drink again, but he doesn’t let go of your hand — not for a second.

People congratulate him, hug him, raise their glasses in his honor, and through it all, he keeps glancing over at you, as if he’s checking to make sure you’re still there, that this night, this victory, isn’t a dream he’ll wake up from.

“Charles!” An old friend shouts, clinking his glass against Charles’. “How’s it feel to finally win your home race?”

Charles laughs, tipping his head back. “Feels amazing! Like … like nothing else!”

Another friend chimes in, “And you’ve got the best date to celebrate with, huh?” He winks at you, raising his glass.

Charles nods, his grin widening as he wraps an arm around you, his hand still holding yours. “The very best,” he says proudly, his words a little slurred. “Don’t know what I’d do without her.”

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks, but you just smile, squeezing his hand. “I’m lucky to be here with you.”

He laughs, leaning in so close that his forehead brushes yours. “Not as lucky as me.”

And then, in one swift, impulsive move, he presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. It’s sweet and almost innocent, and despite the noisy club, it feels like a quiet, private moment just between the two of you.

He looks at you, eyes soft, the drunken haze giving his expression a kind of unguarded warmth. “Promise me something?”

You nod. “Anything.”

“Promise you’ll be with me next year, too. For the next Monaco. And the next … and the one after that.”

You laugh, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “I think I can manage that.”

“Good,” he murmurs, his eyes drifting closed as he rests his forehead against yours. “That’s all I need. Just you … and Monaco.”

You chuckle, wrapping an arm around him to keep him steady. “And maybe a bit of sleep.”

He groans, shaking his head. “Sleep? No, no … we have to … keep celebrating! I mean, it’s Monaco!”

But despite his protests, his eyelids are starting to droop, his body leaning more heavily against you.

“Charles,” you say gently, guiding him to a quieter corner of the club. “Maybe we can take a little break?”

He mumbles something incoherent, his head resting on your shoulder, his hand still holding yours in a loose but unbreakable grip. Even in his exhaustion, he refuses to let go, as if the victory, the night, everything will disappear if he loosens his hold.

“Just … five minutes,” he mutters, his voice soft. “Then … more dancing.”

You smile, brushing a gentle hand over his hair. “Five minutes.”

But as he drifts off, his breathing evening out, you know he won’t be getting up for any more dancing tonight. He’s given everything — his heart, his soul, his strength — to this race, and now, finally, he’s at peace.

You sit there with him, holding his hand, listening to the muffled thrum of the music, and you realize that, in his own way, he’s won more than just a race. He’s found a sense of belonging, of fulfillment, a piece of himself he’d been chasing for so long.

And as you sit together, the noise of the club fading into the background, you feel that same sense of peace. You’re here, with him, exactly where you’re meant to be.

***

The hospital room feels impossibly small, filled with sounds of beeping monitors, the hum of the fluorescent lights, and the murmured voices of nurses and doctors. But for you, it’s all a blur — just flashes of movement and noise as you lie there, clutching Charles’ hand like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

His grip is firm, steady. He’s been by your side since the contractions started hours ago, and now, with each excruciating wave of pain, he tightens his hold, murmuring to you softly, his words meant only for you.

“Breathe,” he says quietly, as if he can breathe for you. “You’re doing amazing.”

You grit your teeth, feeling another contraction start to build, a pressure so intense it’s as if your entire body is caught in its grip. “This doesn’t … feel amazing,” you manage to say, your voice strained.

Charles chuckles softly, though you can see the tension in his eyes, the worry that’s been there since you first squeezed his hand, hours ago. “I know,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. “But you are. I promise.”

You close your eyes, focusing on his words, on the warmth of his hand in yours. For a moment, it distracts you, gives you something to hold onto in the midst of the pain. But then the contraction peaks, and you’re squeezing his hand so hard you hear him suck in a sharp breath.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, the pain so intense it’s blinding. “I’m so sorry … your hand-”

He just shakes his head, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. “I’m fine,” he says, his voice gentle. “Just focus on you. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You don’t have to stay,” you say, half-laughing, half-crying as the contraction finally starts to ease. “You can go … take a break or something.”

His expression softens, and he leans in close, his eyes locked on yours. “Are you kidding? You think I’d leave you now?”

You shake your head, managing a breathless laugh. “I don’t know how you’re not terrified.”

“Oh, I am,” he admits with a grin, glancing at the nurse nearby, who raises an amused eyebrow. “But you’re stronger than me. I have to keep up.”

The nurse chuckles softly, patting you on the shoulder. “You’re in the home stretch now, almost there. Just a little longer.”

“A little longer,” you echo, glancing at Charles, trying to find the strength to keep going. “Okay … I can do that.”

He nods, his hand never loosening from yours. “Of course you can. You’re the strongest person I know.”

Another contraction hits, and the pain tears through you like fire. You can feel your grip on his hand tighten again, your nails digging into his skin. “I’m sorry,” you gasp, but it’s all you can manage. The pain is blinding, all-consuming.

He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t pull away. “Don’t apologize,” he murmurs, his voice calm, steady. “You hold on as tight as you need to.”

“Charles …” Your voice is choked, and you can feel tears prickling at your eyes. “This … this is …”

“I know,” he whispers, brushing a kiss to your forehead. “But you’re doing it. You’re so close.”

The doctor speaks softly to you, offering encouragement, but all you can focus on is the feel of Charles’ hand in yours, his thumb tracing gentle circles against your skin. He’s been there through everything — every fear, every doubt — and now, here he is again, steady, unwavering.

Another contraction builds, and this time it’s different. The pressure feels like it’s reaching its breaking point, like something’s about to give. You squeeze his hand harder than ever, and he leans in, his forehead resting against yours as he murmurs, “Just a little longer. You’ve got this.”

You close your eyes, focusing on the warmth of his breath, the feel of his hand, and push with everything you have. The room fills with noise — your own cries, the encouraging voices around you — and then, finally, there’s a new sound. A tiny, piercing wail that cuts through everything.

You open your eyes, gasping, and see the doctor holding a small, wriggling bundle. Charles’ hand is still in yours, his face pale, his eyes wide with something like awe as he stares at the baby. “Is that …”

“That’s your son,” the nurse says, beaming as she places the little bundle in your arms.

You’re exhausted, every muscle in your body aching, but as you look down at the tiny face, your heart swells with a love so fierce it’s almost painful. You glance up at Charles, tears shining in your eyes, and he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Look at him,” he whispers, his voice choked with emotion. “Just … look.”

You nod, a tear slipping down your cheek as you cradle the baby close, your heart so full it feels like it might burst. You glance down, realizing you’re still clutching his hand in a death grip. “I think … I nearly broke your hand,” you say, laughing softly, tears blurring your vision.

Charles laughs, glancing down at your intertwined fingers, his own knuckles white from the pressure. “I’d let you do it a thousand times over,” he says softly, his voice filled with all the love and pride in the world. “For this moment … I’d happily let you.”

[cloudyynebulas]

Can you do a yandere shadow milk x reader where he got out from the game it self just to get them and forcing them in the game with him after he saw they was about to delete the game from there phone?

❝ 𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 𝗡𝗢𝗪, 𝗬𝗢𝗨'𝗥𝗘 𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗘. ❞

yan! shadow milk cookie x reader.

reader is gender neutral.

episode 8 spoilers? sorta. mentions the new cookie, but that's about it.

cw : yandere themes, kidnapping, mind break, manipulation, obsessive behavior . . please read with caution!

⋆° .☾ ⋆ .ೃ ࿔* : ⋆

You knew something was .. wrong.

Ever since the release of Spire of Shadows, where the highly anticipated, Shadow Milk Cookie, released as a playable character in his debut update, things began to change.

You were excited as anyone else. Who wouldn't be? After a year of waiting since his initial introduction as an NPC in Theater of Lies, you were apart of the thousands of people that hoped to see him return and become playable in the near future. When the trailer for the update was finally released, you were ecstatic.

Saving up your Crystals, Star Jellies and Skill Powders just for him! There was not a shred of doubt in your mind he'd most likely become apart of the current 'meta' in Kingdom Arena, so you knew the second you pulled him from the Nether Gacha, you could immediately put him at the max level!

Completing the missions as quickly as you could, just for a small chance of getting him from the gacha - your anticipation was immense, and you silently prayed to the screen each and every single time you managed to scourge up enough Light of Deceit for a singular ten pull.

When you finally pulled him from the gacha a little less than halfway to the pity pull, you beamed with joy - watching the animation play out. He was here!

Your excitement, once bubbling from within you, burst out like fireworks as you quickly maxed out his level and skill, giving him the best beascuit you had.

As you tapped on your phone, pressing buttons, adding him to your team, finding him in your kingdom, your joy beaming across your features - you failed to realize how this happiness was blinding you from sinister darkness just beyond the phone screen.

Days went by, and things were normal at first.

Then the glitches started. At first, they were small, insignificant errors like small visual bugs or a slight delay in gameplay. Small enough that you could simply shrug your shoulders and continue playing the game, but the more you ignored it - the worse it became.

After just a few days, you found yourself at a standstill. Staring at your phone screen, your eyebrows instinctively furrowed at yet another bug - though, this time, it was far more apparent. Like it was purposefully trying to grab your attention.

All the Cookies in your kingdom had.. been disabled, except for one.

Shadow Milk Cookie.

Your kingdom's design and layout was completely changed - all decors and designs being swapped with decor released alongside the update with Shadow Milk Cookie. Nothing but whites, blues and blacks adorned your kingdom.

Your Crystal and Coin count hadn't dropped. You didn't buy these items - so how could this have possibly happened?

Almost as if he knew you'd booted up the game, sensing your presence, Shadow Milk Cookie turned to face the screen from within your Kingdom.

His sprite winked at you, a gleeful grin forming on his features.

Odd.. you don't recall ever seeing that sprite anywhere.

Confused, and honestly somewhat unnerved, your thumb graces the Cookies button on the bottom right, opening up the tab. All of your Cookies were still there, but as you moved to tap on one of them, you were taken straight to Shadow Milk Cookie's profile instead.

What??

His animation played, bowing at you with a wink.

"Tis I, your humble jester! Here to brighten up your mood!"

You frowned, exiting his profile and, once again, moving to click another Cookie's profile. Though, just as before, you were taken straight back to Shadow Milk Cookie.

"..what the hell?" you muttered aloud.

At this point, it was clear. Your game was busted - or, possibly had some kind of virus. Although, a virus where your entire game is corrupted to just Shadow Milk Cookie was.. unheard of. Not a single person on the internet, from what you knew, had ever documented such an occurrence happening since the update's release.

You place the phone back down on your bed, sitting up. You walk towards your small laptop, flipping open the cover and logging into your account.

You fail to notice Shadow Milk Cookie's eyes seemingly following your movements as you move away from your device.

Wanting to believe that this was just some harmless bug, you immediately hop to your web browser, beginning to search up bugs or viruses relating to Cookie Run Kingdom, hoping you'd find someone out there who may've possibly had a similar experience to yours - and a possible solution.

With your gaze and mind locked focused on your hopeless searching, you failed to notice your phone slowly beginning to shake, being left idle on Shadow Milk Cookie's profile.

Deep inside, a beast rumbles - hands gripping the invisible bars of restriction that kept him away from your world. The confines of your small device that shackled him to this game.

Oh, to be trapped in a Silver Tree and a Video Game! How horribly hopeless is that? Though, with the knowledge that he had from being in a simple video game came with tremendous power that he could oh-so easily exploit.

Shadow Milk Cookie hummed, watching you as you searched for answers of your.. "virus". Or rather, his fun, silly little prank!

He let out a quiet giggle - expression darkening. You were finally giving him the attention he'd been longing for! Yes, being trapped in a small device wasn't the most pleasant, but it had some.. quirks!

Forcing you to pull him in his Nether Gacha so many times, modifying his own attack power to higher numbers, always speaking over any other Cookie who tried to initiate dialogue to you..

Seeing your oh-so adorable face so confused and bewildered at his silly pranks and games was just the cherry on top! Shadow Milk Cookie had to admit, he was a liiiiiiittle annoyed that it took you this long to really give him the attention he craved, but, what did it matter? His patience has rewarded him!

..But it still wasn't.. enough.

His grin fell to a frown - an ominous gaze watching your every movement. No.. - no this wouldn't do. Not only did Shadow Milk Cookie desire for your attention, he needed to physically be there, next to you.

What had gotten into him? His mind, clouded with nothing but twisted lies and maelstroms of darkness grew a twinge of longing. But not a soft, kindhearted longing one would express - no, this was something so much deeper. So, so much worse.

Shadow Milk Cookie craved to have you here, with him.

It was all clear to him. You were his.

Truthfully, just having your attention on him was fine, and it usually always sufficed his desires, but now .. now it was different. He wanted more.

Your phone began to shake.

Your endless searching that led you to dead end after dead end came to a screeching halt at the sound of a familiar voice, coming straight from your phone, speaking your name.'

"Y/N..!"

You paled.

Slowly, your head turned towards your phone. That couldn't have been your family - that didn't sound like them, nor could it have come straight from your phone like that.

"Oooooover here, silly!" Shadow Milk Cookie's voice teased. "Don't leave me hanging here!"

You slowly got up from your chair, walking towards your bed and lifting up your phone, where Shadow Milk Cookie was, floating idly - though, he was much closer to the screen now, gaze fixated right back at you.

Your mouth was agape - words of confusion and distress on the tip of your tongue - and yet, you couldn't find any actual words of coherency to mutter aloud.

The jester laughed at your disbelief. "What's the matter, Y/N? You look like you've just seen a ghost!"

His teasing mockery snapped you out of your daze. You blinked, and your thumbs quickly moved to swipe the game off your screen - with Shadow Milk Cookie's expression shifting into something more serious as the game disappeared from your screen.

Now back on your phone's home screen, you held a finger down on the Cookie Run Kingdom icon, waiting until the small popup appeared that would allow you to delete the app. With the game no longer on your screen, you took note of how even the game's icon had changed to Shadow Milk Cookie.

Screw trying to find a solution. Your horror had overtaken your senses, panic had spilled into your veins; this wasn't just some bug. This wasn't just some measly virus. This was something far worse. Something you couldn't possibly explain to another person without sounding like a fool.

The way he said your name - something that he couldn't possibly have knowledge of. And yet, he said it so clearly, so real, and when you finally approached him, he noticed you. Knew that you were there, looking back at him through a glass screen.

You pressed the delete app button - with your phone giving you a popup, asking you to confirm your choice. In a heartbeat, you selected confirm, and waited.

..and waited.

...

Why wasn't the app disappearing from your screen?

Your phone trembled. You couldn't tell if it was your own fear making you shake, or if it was something else. Something .. otherworldly.

Your fears were carved into reality as your phone practically thrashed itself out of your grip, tearing itself away from you and landing harshly onto your bed. A sinister, twisted laughter echoed throughout your bedroom, filling your ears and flying around the room.

You trembled, backing away as quickly as you could, your feet instinctively gliding you towards your bedroom door.

"Oh, Y/N!" his voice echoed. Shadow Milk Cookie's voice - his words clouding in your mind, like it was being sent to you telepathically. "Did you just try to delete me?"

You heard the Beast Cookie 'tsk in disappointment, clicking his tongue.

"So rude!" he scoffed. "And after everything I've done for you! It's almost like you're trying to get away from me!"

Your back collided with your bedroom door - hands reaching for the knob desperately, but your head was locked towards your phone that began to glow, it's screen taken over by a familiar shade of blue. You couldn't bring yourself to turn your back towards the haunted device, fearing that, even for a second that you might turn your back to him, it could mean the worst for you.

Hands finally grasping on the doorknob behind you, you twisted the metal knob trying to push your door open.

..The knob stopped halfway, unmoving.

You froze on the spot. Your door had locked itself, a bedroom door that never even had a lock, was now locked in place.

"Ah-ah-ah!" Shadow Milk Cookie laughed, his voice swarming in your head. "Where on Earthbread might you be trying to run off to? I'm about to make my big debut, here!"

A hand escaped from the phone screen. You held back a scream.

A blue hand extended out, and a familiar arm with jester attire began to emerge. It pushed itself out, revealing more of him.

His eyes locked onto you immediately - a large grin forming on his face as he had about halfway emerged from your phone screen.

The fear on your face was like a divine dessert - crafted and gifted perfectly sweet just for him.

Just like a wrapped gift basket that landed straight in front of his doorstep. You were right there - in his clutches. He had all the power he needed, and now, all he needed was you.

"Come along now!" Shadow Milk Cookie clapped his hands with glee, as blue puppeteer strings shot out from your phone, headed straight towards you. "We wouldn't want to keep our dear audience waiting, no?"

You yelped, quickly ducking your head to avoid the incoming web, and while your quick thinking may have saved you for just a few more seconds, it didn't matter. The strings quickly maneuvered themselves, wrapping around your waist, locking your arms to your sides and keeping you bound in place.

A scream lay trapped in your throat. You wanted to scream - to cry, to yell, anything to grab someone's attention. And yet - a voice, one that was most definitely not yours, echoed whispers in the back of your mind, keeping you silent.

You were quickly pulled straight towards the Beast, whos hands reached out to you the second you were in arms length of him, grabbing onto you - staring down at you with a menacing grin of victory.

His arms wrapped around you - possessive, as if the strings weren't enough. He needed to envelop you in his own embrace.

With laughter filling the air, Shadow Milk Cookie descended back down into the phone, and you were swiftly dragged along down with him. Your cries finally escaped your lips - but it didn't matter now. Your yelling and your tears were drowned out in his world of lies - his perfect world, that would be built for the two of you.

⋆° .☾ ⋆ .ೃ ࿔* : ⋆

You've lost track of time at this point.

Strings were tied around you on every limb, tangled up in a web of blue that kept you still. Your body had adjusted to this new world you'd been forcefully taken to - now with the proportions of any other Cookie that existed.

Not that many Cookies seemed to exist anymore. It was just you, Shadow Milk Cookie, and his two minions - Candy Apple Cookie and Black Sapphire Cookie.

Whatever was left of your kingdom - you didn't know. When you awoke in this world after being dragged down into it by the hands of the Beast, you found yourself inside of a familiar Spire.

Your memories are hazy - and yet, on the day you were brought here, you remember seeing Candy Apple Cookie and Black Sapphire Cookie awaiting the two of you to arrive, as if they were already expecting you.

"Master Shadow Milk Cookie!!" Candy Apple Cookie cheered - her eyes sparkling at the sight of the Beast Cookie appearing. "You're finally back!"

"I see this was the one that's been on your mind as of late?" Black Sapphire Cookie chuckled, his eyes analyzing you up and down - observing your terrified state. "They look absolutely horrified!"

"Everything went according to plaaaaaan!" Shadow Milk Cookie grinned, his voice, mockingly singing his own praise. "A little more rough than I was hoping for.. but, what can you do? When improv calls, who am I to say no?"

The jester turned to you, his hand grabbing at your chin, forcing your gaze that had been previously facing towards the ground, now looking towards him.

"Don't look so.. blue, Y/N!" Shadow Milk Cookie smiled down at you - his eyes shadowed under an ominous light - his mismatched pupils glowing softly in the darkness. "Trust me, dear, you'll adjust veeery quickly."

Everything after that was a blur.

Your gaze was hazy, staring towards a checkered floor. Darkness surrounded the room you were held captive in - a room that was supposed to be an elegant bedroom crafted just for you.

Your attire matched perfectly with the theme of this twisted place - nothing but dark colors and swirls of lies topped with a few bowties here and there.

The puppeteer strings around your form tightened ever so slightly.

Your mind raced. The words of deceit that constantly filled the back of your mind suddenly became louder - just like they always did. Apart of this horrid routine you were forced into.

.. Y/N ...

Stop fighting my will, Y/N.

This is your home now - and you.. you are mine.

Why do you still insist on fighting me? Why do you still wish to leave?

The world out there has nothing for you. This is your world.

You shake your head, eyelids shutting tightly as you ignored these honeyed, twisted words that beckoned you, wanting to embrace you and swallow up any last bit of fight you had left.

The presence in the room shifts. You don't even have to open your eyes to know that he's here with you now.

A hand softly lifts your chin.

"You're such a fighter, even after alllll this time." Shadow Milk Cookie spoke, a light chuckle following his words. "It's adorable, really."

His voice becomes far more stern.

"But these little charades are starting to bore me."

His grip on your chin is suddenly at your face, tugging you forward, your eyelids snapping open in surprise.

You stare back up at Shadow Milk Cookie. You want to glare - to be angry, to yell, to scream -

But you don't want to do that.

So you don't.

He smiles. You do not.

"You're all mine, Y/N." the Beast reminds you. "You'll come to accept the truth sooner or later."

He laughs.

"It's only a matter of time."

[nativegirltapes]

when you first started messing around with rafe, you knew it was wrong. but god was it fun being sneaky. but there were definitely times you felt guilty for lying to your bestfriend sarah . . . . . .

notes: ik best friends brother trope is well overdone..... but i just wanted to write a little something because i was thinking about them last night <3

you felt guilty when you told sarah that you could sleepover but you couldn't come over until later in the night because you were with a boy. she just had no idea that that boy was her brother. rafe would literally drop you off in front his house, he'd watch you as you'd struggle to get out of his big truck with your girly pink duffle bag in hand. "have fun with my lame sister." he chuckled. "she's not lame rafe!" you were already half way to the door of tanneyhill. rafe made sure to watch you, making sure you made it to the front safely. but he always made sure to drive off before sarah opened the door. he always went to topper's house and hung out with him and kelce, but majority of the time he just wishes he was with you, or at the least, that you were there with him and his friends.

sarah was so clueless to it all. that's the part that made you feel so bad. she'd complain to you about how ever since rafe started seeing this 'new girl' he was barely home, but that wasn't the part she was exactly upset about, it was the fact that he was never home to do his part of the chores or yard work, so she was getting the repercussions of it. the more you thought about it, you realized it was your fault.

the other part that made you feel so guilty was how excited sarah was for you and this new guy. "i need to meet him!" she'd yell after you showed her all the new things 'new guy' bought you just before coming to hang out with her. "he's literally perfect for you." and she was right, he was perfect for you. he was one of the sweetest guys ever, you really didn't think he had it in him. he brought you flowers every time he had the chance to see you one on one. he complimented you like it was his life's purpose, he lied to his sister for you, he even would send you cute little messages whenever you were around tanneyhill hanging out with sarah, telling you how perfect you looked and how he just wanted to kiss you.

sarah was right, this guy was perfect for you. you just weren't sure how to tell her that this new guy was her brother.

[azzifudd]

as long as i live

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: inspired by jensen mcrae's massachusetts

rated: teen

4.9k words

disclaimer: fictional!

notes: well! i'm not exactly coming out of retirement, but according to google docs i started writing this in june 2024 which seems wild to me. i pushed myself to finish it up so i could post it for you guys, if anyone's even still interested in reading my stuff. it's a bit different from stuff i've written before but i hope you guys like it anyways. listen to the song while you read, it's great :)

[AO3 LINK]

When someone tells me they're from Massachusetts, now I always ask, "What part?"

“So, where are you from?” 

Part of Azzi cringes inside as she asks such a cliche and boring question, but this is the second blind date she’s been on in the past month, and her social battery is at an all time low. At this point, her date is lucky that she isn’t talking about the weather.

“Born and raised in Minnesota, but I moved out here after college for work.” Her date, Savannah, takes a sip of water, tongue darting out to catch a stray drop that hangs off the corner of full lips. 

Minnesota. Azzi feels her heart stutter at the word. 

“Oh, where in Minnesota?” 

“It’s a small town, you’ve probably never heard of it.” 

It doesn’t even matter, but Azzi wants to know, needs to know.

“Falcon Heights. It’s where the-“

“The State Fair.” Azzi interrupts. “That’s where the State Fair is held.” 

“You’ve heard of it?” 

“I’ve been before, I had a…” Azzi hesitates for just a moment too long. “A friend from Minnesota. We used to go every year.” 

“Maybe I can take you back someday.” Savannah smiles flirtatiously, but it drops when she sees how Azzi is staring off into the distance, unresponsive and trapped in a memory long since passed. 

Azzi gags as she watches Jose bend over a trash can, emptying the contents of his stomach after a clearly too intense roller coaster. 

Their mom rubs a hand along his back as he finally straightens up, face pale and sweaty. 

“I guess this is a good time to finish up our night.” 

They’ve been at the State Fair for over 12 hours at this point, and even though the place is still fairly packed, Jose and Jon have been visibly flagging for a while, and Jose’s sickness is a clear sign for them to start heading home.

“But we haven’t even gone on the ferris wheel yet.” Azzi complains, pouting.

“The line looks long, honey. I’m not sure your brothers will make it.”

“I’ll stay with her.” Paige pipes up. “And my dad can pick us up after we’re done.” 

Azzi bounces excitedly on her heels, gripping Paige’s arm with both hands. 

“Please, please, please?” 

Tim and Katie exchange a look, clearly having an unspoken discussion. Soon Tim shrugs, leaving the decision up to his wife. 

“She’ll be safe with me, Mrs. Fudd.” Paige says, so sweetly earnest in the way only a 16 year old can be. She still hasn’t gotten used to calling Azzi’s parents by their first names.

“Oh, I know that, sweetheart. I’m just worried about what sorts of trouble she might get you into.” 

Katie laughs as Azzi sticks her tongue at her.

“Okay, fine. Just keep an eye on your phones in case we need to get a hold of you.” 

“Thank you!” Azzi gives her parents kisses goodbye and hugs her little brothers before grabbing Paige by the hand and dragging her over to the ferris wheel. 

She’s so excited to ride that she doesn’t notice how quiet Paige is. Her friend normally hardly shuts up, but Azzi doesn’t realize how unlike herself Paige is acting until they’re being ushered into the gondola.

The metal car creaks loudly as it moves, sending them slowly up into the sky. 

“Paige? Are you okay?” 

Paige’s hands are tight around the metal lap bar, fingers pale as she squeezes it tight.

“Yeah!” She says, squeaking when they jolt to a sudden stop, about halfway to the top. 

“Are you afraid of heights?” Azzi asks, almost incredulously. Paige isn’t afraid of anything. She’s always ready to jump in head first, with hardly a thought to the consequences. They’d already ridden most of the roller coasters here without a problem.

“Hell no!” 

Azzi might be more convinced if her eyes weren’t squeezed shut as they started moving again.

“Why’d you agree to come on if you’re so scared?” 

“You wanted to.” 

Azzi feels blood rush to her face. She smiles shyly in response. No one has ever made her feel as special as Paige does, like everything she says matters. She presses close to Paige’s side as the ferris wheel screeches to a stop at the top. 

The view is spectacular. The lights from the rides, nothing compared to the brightness of the stars above them. But Azzi doesn’t look.

“Hey.”

She reaches over and grabs Paige’s hand with her left hand, pulling it from the bar and intertwining their fingers. With her right hand, she reaches up to gently grasp Paige’s chin. 

“Don’t look out there. Just look at me.” 

Paige’s eyes flutter open. Azzi’s mouth feels dry suddenly. She licks her lips watching as Paige’s gaze darts from Azzi’s eyes to her lips and back again. 

Her eyes shine under the light of the moon. They’re beautiful. Paige is so beautiful. Azzi’s heart pounds in her chest. This moment feels more dangerous than sitting hundreds of feet in the air with only a bar of metal keeping you safe. 

Paige leans in, so slow that Azzi knows she could pull away if she wanted to. She doesn’t. She leans in the rest of the way instead, and puts her heart in Paige Bueckers’ hands. 

//

I wonder if you kept the pilgrim ashtray if it's still propped up on your bar cart

“You’re home pretty early, how was it?” 

Colleen had called Azzi almost as soon as she had stepped through the door, which told Azzi that she had likely been checking her location through the night. She had been encouraging about it when Azzi had told her that a teammate was setting her up with a friend of theirs, someone from outside the basketball world. 

But Azzi knows Colleen is still holding out hope that she and Paige are meant to be. She hasn’t mentioned her to Azzi in months, not since the last time she’d had to comfort a drunk Azzi who had broken down just from hearing her name. 

“It was fine. I fucked it up, the usual.” 

Azzi pops the fridge open, pulling out a bottle of wine and grabbing the bottle opener on the door. The bottle opens with a pop and Azzi pours a full glass, takes a few big sips from it, before filling it again. 

“Oh, babe. What happened?” 

How can she explain that the mere mention of Paige’s home state had sent her into a spiral and that she’d had to make a stupid excuse to leave and now probably wouldn’t be able to face her teammate without making a fool of herself. 

“No biggie. We just weren’t compatible.” She takes another swig of wine. “I’m just gonna take a bath and go to bed.” 

“Okay, Azzi. I love you. You know I’m always here if you wanna talk.” 

“Love you too.” Azzi doesn’t know how she would have gotten through these past two years without her. 

Azzi heads into the bathroom, running the faucet to fill the tub. She goes to light one of the many scented candles she’s been gifted over the years, this one that claims to release a relaxing scent, just what she needs tonight. 

The lighter sputters weakly and doesn’t ignite. With a sigh, she heads back into the kitchen, digging into the junk drawer where she knows she has seen a box of matches. 

She finally finds it under a pile of old charging cables, but stops short when she sees what’s printed on it. It’s faded and worn, but the word Ted’s is still visible. 

She rubs her thumb over it. This pack of matches has somehow made the journey from Storrs all the way to her home in San Francisco. 

Azzi slides the cover off. There’s only one match left inside. 

The candle goes unlit. The match untouched. 

“Who wants shots!” Paige’s voice echoes through the bar.

It’s Azzi’s first time at Ted’s as an official member of the team, and Paige is clearly dedicating herself to making sure she has the best possible time. 

Azzi isn’t sure she’s seen Paige stop smiling since she moved into the dorms, and it must be infectious, because the butterflies in her stomach haven’t rested since the moment Paige showed up at her door to help move her in. 

“Paige, relax!” Christyn says, patting Paige on the head and laughing when Paige swats her away to fix her displaced hair.

“Here we go!” Liv comes back to the table holding a tray full of shots. 

The team gathers around, each taking a hold of one of the glasses. 

“To our new teammates. Welcome to UConn, and let’s win a national championship. Go Huskies!” They all throw back their shots at once. 

A few hours later, as Azzi dances with Caroline and Amari, Paige comes bouncing up to them, slipping her arms around Azzi’s waist and swaying behind her. 

She presses her face into the side of Azzi’s neck. “Come outside with me for a sec. Nika gave me a lil’ somethin’ if you wanna try.” 

Azzi nods and lets Paige lead her outside by the hand. It’s a lot less crowded outside, and the light breeze feels good against her sweat slicked skin. 

Paige guides her to a more secluded corner where a lone picnic table sits underneath some fairy lights strung along the patio. Paige sits with the bench between her legs, pulling Azzi to sit next to her. 

She pulls out a joint and wiggles her eyebrows at Azzi. 

“You wanna?” 

Azzi had never dared to try it in high school with her parents always around, but she wants to now. The season doesn’t start for months, and practice not for another week. She nods, eagerly. She knows that there’s no safer person for her to try this with than Paige, who would never let her get hurt. 

Paige passes the joint over. “Hold this for me for a sec.”

She pulls out a fresh box of matches, pulling one out and lighting it with a quick flick of her wrist. She holds it to the tip until it glows. 

“Go ahead.” 

Azzi hesitates for a moment. “I just breathe in?” 

“Mmhm.” Paige nods, watching with rapt attention as Azzi brings the joint up to her lips and inhales. 

A hacking cough bursts out of her throat before the smoke can even hit her lungs. 

Paige laughs as she rubs Azzi’s back. 

“Don’t laugh at me,” she chokes out when she can finally breathe.

“Okay, okay,” Paige holds up her hands in apology. “Here, let’s try another way.” 

She takes hold of the joint, sliding closer until their legs are touching. She brings it to her lips, inhaling deeply and holding the smoke in her chest. Then she leans in, giving Azzi a chance to pull away. When she edges just a bit closer instead, Paige seals their lips together, exhaling when Azzi’s mouth opens against hers. 

She keeps them pressed together until she feels Azzi breathe in deep. When she pulls back, Paige keeps their foreheads pressed together.

“How was that?” She asks, voice raspy. 

In response, Azzi just hooks a hand around Paige’s neck and kisses her again. 

//

Could make a grand off of the chain you bought me, but goddamn, it's not for sale

“Azzi!” 

Azzi barely has a moment to steel herself before Nika nearly bowls her over in a hug. 

“I’ve missed you so much.” Azzi says, returning the hug. They hadn’t seen each other since the last time their teams had matched up, but with both teams now out of playoff contention, they had decided to get dinner while Nika was in town.

They spend the night catching up, telling stories and reminiscing about old times, both often changing the subject when it approached the elephant in the room. 

When they’re both three cocktails deep, Nika finally asks, “Do you think you’ll go to the Finals?” 

Azzi knows that the girls have been planning a reunion to see Paige play in her first Finals. She’s sure that it hasn’t gone unnoticed that she hasn’t said anything in the group chat. 

“Of course.” 

She hadn’t told anyone, but she’d booked the ticket the minute the Lynx had clinched their series. Nothing could keep her away. Her hand goes up to fiddle with her necklace subconsciously. 

“That’s great, Azzi. I know she wants you there, more than anything.” 

Nika’s eyes flicker down to where her fingers are toying with the chain. She drops her hand. The charm bounces against her chest. To this day, she can’t explain why she still wears it, just that it’s become like a part of her.

The first thing that Azzi notices when she wakes up, is that there’s someone asleep beside her. It isn’t the strangest occurrence in this house. Sometimes one of her brothers will fall asleep next to her, or one of the dogs will come in seeking her warmth. 

But this body is pressed against her back, a heavy arm slung around her waist. Even the way their breath puffs against her neck is familiar. But the only person Azzi wants to be sharing a bed with is hundreds of miles away, so Azzi turns to lay on her back, her wrapped leg only protesting a little. A wave of blonde hair covers her face. 

“What?” She whispers, because this shouldn’t be possible. She swears she had just fallen asleep talking with Paige about the team’s resounding victory in Aaliyah’s home country. 

Her phone still rests next to her head. When she wakes the screen up, there’s one unread message from the night before. 

Paige💗

See you soon, baby 💗😘

She nudges at Paige’s side, suddenly too impatient to wait for her to wake up. Paige groans, but she opens her eyes, blinking blearily and clearly exhausted. She smiles wide when she sees Azzi. 

“Hey.”

“What the fuck?” Azzi murmurs, still a little bit stunned, and presses close to kiss Paige deeply. 

“Never been happier to miss a night of sleep.” Paige says when they part, smirking.

Azzi whacks her on the shoulder, but gives her another light peck. “What are you doing here?” 

“I missed you. Merry Christmas.” 

Azzi is leaning in to kiss her again when her dad’s voice comes echoing down the stairs. “If y’all are awake, breakfast is almost ready.” 

“Okay!” 

Azzi throws the blanket off of her body, sitting up. 

“Hold on a sec.” Paige walks over to where her duffel bag has been dumped by the door, digging through it. 

She walks back and sits down next to Azzi, holding onto a black box. 

“I know Christmas isn’t actually for a few days, but I can’t wait any longer.” 

Azzi takes the box in her hands, feeling the softness of the velvet under her fingers. She opens it to reveal a silver heart encrusted with diamonds dangling from a delicate chain. It looks a lot like a necklace that already sits in her jewelry box, except this one has an infinity symbol embedded within the heart. 

Azzi feels choked up all of a sudden. The meaning of the symbol is not lost on her. She puts the box down on her lap and raises a hand to cup Paige’s cheek. 

“I love it. I love you.” 

Paige leans their foreheads together. “It’s a forever kinda thing. Just like us.” 

//

You broke me to pieces, but I root for you even though everything went up in flames

The buzzer sounds, and the Minnesota crowd is silent. It’s the end of the third quarter, and the Liberty are leading the Lynx by seventeen. Even from up in the suite, Azzi can see how bad Paige’s body language is, how she’s already beating herself up for the loss even though there’s still ten minutes left in the game. 

The camera focuses on Paige, seated at the bench, staring off into the distance even as her coach speaks in the huddle. Azzi stands suddenly, startling KK. 

“Where are you going?” 

“I have to get down there.” She’s not quite sure how she’ll get to the bench, but she’ll figure it out when she gets there.

Luckily when she makes it down there, she bumps into Paige’s agent Lindsay, who greets her with a hug. 

“Azzi!” She looks surprised to see Azzi. “What are you doing down here? I thought you and the other girls were up in one of the boxes.”

“Hey.” She replies, distractedly. “Do you think you could get me courtside?”

Lindsay gives her a slightly pitying look. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” 

“I know it is.” Azzi says, absolutely certain. She knows, at least, that she has to try. 

Lindsay leads her to her seat, just a few rows behind the home bench. The Lynx have cut the lead to thirteen, but there’s still a steep hill to climb with less than half a quarter of the game left. When one of the Liberty passes skips out of bounds, the Paige’s coach calls a timeout to steady the team. 

Paige stomps back to the bench, clearly frustrated and lifts her jersey to wipe the sweat from her face. As she reaches the bench, she finally looks up, eyes locking with Azzi’s. She freezes. 

Azzi smiles at her, and taps a hand on her chest where the number 5 rests proudly on her chest. 

“Breathe.” She mouths. “You got this.” 

Paige finally blinks. Azzi sees her take a deep breath, and then another. She nods at Azzi before taking a seat on the bench and listening as her coach speaks. Then she’s sticking her head in the huddle and taking charge. 

Her teammates all watch with attention, swept up in her emotions. Azzi misses it sometimes, the way Paige could make you believe you could accomplish anything just because she believed in you.

The buzzer goes off, signaling the end of the timeout. As she heads back onto the floor, Paige turns back toward Azzi. She rests a hand over her heart and then points back to Azzi. Her teammate inbounds the ball to her. 

In the remaining minutes, Paige outscores the Liberty all by herself, and the Lynx come back to win game one.

“Congratulations, Ms. Rookie of the Year.” 

Azzi steps up to Paige, wrapping her arms around her neck and leaning in to kiss her. Paige has been talking with the press all day, and Azzi hasn’t seen her since she left the apartment this morning.

Paige turns her head, and Azzi’s lips land on her cheek as she turns her head to check one end of the hallway, and then the other. They can hear the sound of a door opening in the distance, and Paige flinches minutely. 

Azzi drops her arms and steps back, eyes focusing on the ground.

“Hey.” Paige looks down, making eye contact with her. “I’m sorry.” 

“I know.” And Azzi does know. She knows Paige really is sorry, and that it’s not just something she’s saying to appease her. It doesn’t make it hurt any less. 

Still, she throws a smile on her face. “You ready to head out?” She’d made a reservation, at one of Paige’s favorite restaurants, a few weeks ago for them to celebrate. 

Paige’s expression shifts again, just barely, but Azzi knows every inch of her. 

“What is it?”

“The team invited me out to celebrate. Phee got a hook up at a restaurant. You’ll get to hang with Dorka.” Paige says, like it’s a consolation prize.

Azzi feels that familiar disappointment swell within her, but she pushes it down. They’re going to celebrate Paige, so Azzi will go along with a smile on her face.

It’s not even 11 PM when Azzi decides that it’s time for her to go. Her head is pounding and she’s barely spent even five minutes with Paige since they got to the club. She finds Paige by the bar, grabbing another round for the team.

“I’m going home,” Azzi says, trying to avoid looking into Paige’s hazy, glazed over eyes. 

“What?” Paige frowns. “We barely just got here.” 

“I know, you should stay and celebrate, but I’m going.” Azzi pushes past, not letting Paige talk, she can’t have this conversation, not here. 

She pushes out the door, breathing in cool air. A quick peek at her phone shows that her Uber will be here in just a few minutes. She jumps when a hand clasps her shoulder and turns to find Paige. 

“What’s the matter? You’re upset.” Paige looks so worried, and it makes Azzi almost want to laugh, if it didn’t hurt, just how clueless Paige could be sometimes. 

“I’m fine. Go back inside,” she replies, voice short.

“What happened? You barely talked to anyone the whole night.” 

“I’m tired, Paige.” Azzi blinks furiously as tears fill her eyes. “Sometimes, I just want to be able to hold your hand, and I can’t, and I can’t even be mad at you about it. I’m so tired, so please, just let me go home.” 

Paige freezes. Her hand is outstretched, but she’s stopped short of making contact. For a moment, Azzi wishes Paige would just grab her, hold on, tell her to stay. But she doesn’t, and Azzi just gets into the Uber and drives off, leaving Paige behind on the sidewalk.

When Azzi wakes up the next morning, she feels hungover, even though she had barely drank the night before. Her eyes feel swollen from crying and her body sore from being curled up in a ball all night. Paige isn’t asleep beside her, but that’s no surprise. Sometimes the blonde will sleep on the couch when she gets home late because she doesn’t want to disrupt Azzi’s sleep. 

She finally drags herself out of bed, heading toward the kitchen in search of caffeine. She stops short when she sees Paige sitting at the counter, nursing a cup of coffee. 

“I’m surprised you’re awake already.” Azzi offers, feeling regretful at her harsh tone from the night before as she looks at Paige’s drawn, tired face. 

“Haven’t slept.” Paige takes a sip of her coffee. 

She finally looks up, into Azzi’s eyes, and before she can even speak, Azzi knows. 

“Paige…” She starts, voice already wobbling. She sits gingerly in the chair next to Paige.

“Azzi.” Paige responds, sounding so steady Azzi shouldn’t be able to suspect that she is about to break Azzi’s heart. But Azzi knows Paige, and can see the pain in her expression. 

“Don’t do this.” 

“I’m doing this for you.” Paige reaches out for Azzi’s hand, and when she holds it gently, they’re both shaking.  

“Don’t.” Azzi chokes out again.

“You deserve so much more than what I can give you.” Azzi notices how Paige stares behind her head, unable to even make eye contact with her. 

“I know you are a lot of things Paige Bueckers, but I never thought you were a coward.” Azzi jerks her hand away, wrapping her arms around herself. 

“I’m sorry.” 

//

The fire in my gut that I've chased ever since

“Azzi! Wait!” 

Azzi almost doesn’t hear her over the constant hum of people moving about the arena. But she’s always had a sense for Paige, from the moment they met, like a thread connecting them no matter where they were. She stops in the hallway where she had fled after the final buzzer had sounded.

“Congratulations, Paige.” 

“Thank you.” Paige pants, still catching her breath.

There’s a beat of silence, but it’s almost comfortable, in a way the space between them hasn’t been for years. 

“Azzi-” 

“Paige-” 

They laugh when they both speak in unison. Azzi puts a hand out, gesturing for Paige to talk.

Paige steps forward, reaching her hand out, a question in her eyes. 

Azzi almost says yes, almost reaches out to answer. But she’s been burned before, and it’s not always easy to be brave. So she takes the easy way out. 

“Win this thing, and then we can talk.” 

“‘Win this thing?’ The championship?” Paige asks, almost incredulous. 

“Yeah.” Azzi smirks at her, already drawn back into a familiar banter. “Unless you don’t think you can do it.” 

Paige scoffs immediately. “I’ll see you when I lift that trophy.” 

Paige had already known she was going to play her heart out, but nothing gets her competitive spirit going more than Azzi challenging her. 

Paige stares at Azzi for a moment, just drinking in the sight of her with her number on her chest, knowing that when Azzi turned from her that she would see her name stretched across her back. 

She smiles at Azzi, and it feels almost unfamiliar, smiling and knowing it’s true and sincere. 

Azzi smiles back, and Paige knows this championship is hers. 

“Azzi! Hold up!” Azzi freezes in place, recognizing that voice. She rubs a hand over her forehead. She almost wants to keep going, just jog down the hallway and right out of the arena. 

Instead, she just takes a deep breath and then another, and turns around. Her traitorous heart still quickens at the sight of Paige Bueckers smiling at her. 

“Hey,” Paige says, voice soft as she runs her eyes down Azzi’s chest, lingering on the purple logo and #35 bold on her chest.

“Hi.” Azzi replies, eyes darting to and from Paige’s face. There have been a few unanswered and clearly drunk texts, from both sides, and a huge bouquet at her doorstep after she had been drafted, but this is the closest they’ve been in nearly a year.

“You kicked our asses huh?” 

It had been Azzi’s first time matching up against the Lynx, but it’s just their luck that Paige hadn’t even been able to play, a hand injury keeping her out of the line up. It had been a hard fought game, with Azzi’s Valkyries coming out on top, but it hadn’t been what Azzi had wanted.

“I missed you out there.” 

It’s the truth. Despite their distance, Azzi has long dreamed of the moment she and Paige would face off in the WNBA, and it was disappointing that it had been delayed like so many of their on the court moments. 

Paige gives her that crooked smile. “I’m so proud of you.” 

Every emotion floods through Azzi at that moment. Anger, sadness, joy, hope, love. This is what she’d wanted. Just her and Paige and the game they loved so much.  

But then she remembers why she’s been miserable for nearly an entire year despite achieving her biggest dreams. She remembers why she hasn’t been able to share her proudest moments with the person she loves the most. 

“What do you want, Paige?” 

Paige steps closer, until they’re within arms reach. 

“I just- I had to talk to you; tell you how happy I am for you.” 

Azzi feels herself softening, like she always has around Paige. 

“Thank you.” Somehow the hallway seems quiet, even though Azzi knows there are thousands of people beyond these walls. 

“I-” 

Paige is interrupted when a voice calls down the hall for Azzi. The team’s PR person is looking for her, and Azzi’s late for media. 

Paige takes a big step back, and Azzi is brought back to that day a year ago, and the heartbreak feels almost as fresh. But she decides then and there that she’s cried enough over Paige Bueckers, and so she just smiles, wistfully. 

“I’ll see you around, Paige,” she says, and then she walks away. 

//

You set the bar, you're gonna stick

“And for the first time since 2017, the Lynx have done it! Minnesota, your Lynx are WNBA Champions once more!” 

The cheers of the fans is near deafening. The Liberty players leave the court in stunned silence as the Lynx players pile on top of each other with joy. 

Azzi whoops, voice hoarse from hours of non stop cheering. She knows it might be a bad look, as a member of another team, to be this excited, but she can’t help it.

Suddenly there’s a loud swell of noise, and the crowd on the court parts. Paige is pushing her way through the throng of people, and a mob of cameras is following her. She finally makes her way to where Azzi is standing, a few rows up from the court. 

She smiles at the fans, who all clamor for her attention, but Paige is on a mission. She pushes her way through the crowd, ignoring how the team’s security is nearly begging her to come back down. 

“Paige! What are you doing?”

“I did it!” Paige beams, blue eyes brimming with joyful tears.

Azzi throws her arms around her, barely registering the noise around them.

“I love you!” Paige cups her hand around Azzi’s ear as she speaks, and Azzi feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. 

“What?” Azzi laughs, in disbelief. “Paige, you just won a championship! They’re about to announce you as Finals MVP.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Paige pulls back and presses their foreheads together. “All of this is empty without you with me.” 

Cameras flash all around them. The entire world is watching, and Azzi knows that this is impulsive and that they have so much they need to talk about, but in this moment, it feels like they’re just kids again, sitting atop a creaky ferris wheel with their whole future ahead of them. 

This time, Azzi leans in first, lets Paige decide. 

This time, she doesn’t hesitate. 

[pbaz7]

FLIGHT 2136: PART 4

paige x azzi

warning: sexual content

word count: 8.6k

A/N: This really somehow turned into a serious lmao. God bless ✈️ anon. I’m thoroughly enjoying writing this one and I’m excited to see where I can take it next. Anything specific people wanna see?? Leave live reacts and comments if you can 🫶🏼🫶🏼

—————————————————————————

After that night their conversations become effortless and automatic. What was once occasional text over a span of a few days here and there now turned into good morning messages, updates throughout the day, and late-night conversations that stretched longer than either of them intended.

Azzi quickly learned that Paige wasn’t actually that bad of a texter–when she wanted to be. It just took a little extra effort. Sometimes, though, she still slipped up, forgetting to reply for hours. When that happened, Azzi would call her, barely waiting for Paige to pick up before saying, “Text me back, genius.”

Paige would mumble out a sheepish, “My bad,” rubbing her eyes. But then, everytime without fail, she’d add, “You look pretty today,” her voice turning soft.

Azzi would roll her eyes, but she couldn’t hide her smile before hanging up.

A few seconds after hanging up, Azzi’s phone would buzz with notifications from Paige—each one carefully addressing everything Azzi had mentioned. It was clear Paige was paying attention, making sure to answer everything, even if it was something small like, "I just got Dairy Queen!" or "I found that song you were talking about."

The Facetimes, once a source of mild resistance from Paige, quickly became something she didn't mind at all. She didn’t grumble about how she didn’t like them anymore. Instead, Paige would simply answer and just prop her phone up and go about whatever random task she was doing, talking with Azzi as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Whether it was shooting in the gym, organizing her room, or just lounging around, Paige would keep the conversation light, letting Azzi watch her move through the motions of her day. And even on days where Paige wasn’t the most animated during their calls, a little spaced out, Azzi could still hear the underlying affection in her voice when she did say something—the way her words were always just a little softer compared to when she talked to everyone else, a little more personal.

Azzi found herself completely captivated by how Paige’s personality started to shine through in their everyday conversations. At first, Paige had always come across as a bit reserved, quiet, especially when surrounded by others–and honestly she still was. But in their moments alone, whether it was through text or FaceTime, Paige’s true colors began to emerge. Azzi had never expected her to be this way–honestly. Paige was a little obnoxious at times, cracking jokes that made Azzi laugh out loud, even when she tried to keep a straight face. Paige could be playful and sarcastic, the type to tease Azzi for the tiniest things, but it was never mean-spirited. It was endearing.

But what Azzi adored most was how gentle and observant Paige was. It was like she had a way of noticing the smallest details, even when she didn’t say anything about them. Whether it was how Azzi would get distracted by the simplests things, or how she picked up on subtle changes in Azzi’s mood, Paige seemed to have this innate ability to read between the lines.

The way these traits blended together–Paige being confident that was borderline cocky at times, a little obnoxious, funny, yet so thoughtful and perceptive–shouldn’t have worked as well as they did, but it was perfect. It was her. And Azzi was starting to realize just how much she loved it. There was something about Paige’s complexity, the contradictions of her personality that made her unique. With every conversation, every little moment, Azzi found herself falling for Paige Bueckers.

Paige didn’t know the exact moment she fell for Azzi. Maybe it had been the night after the USC game, when she sat there in the hotel room, unraveling a part of herself she had never shared with anyone before. When she told Azzi about the accident—some of the details, the conflict she felt all the time, the way she had spent so long resenting the world for what happened but thanking God that it wasn’t worse. And instead of offering empty words or hollow reassurances, Azzi just was—solid, there asking Paige what she needed instead of offering up what she thought she needed to hear. Somehow, within seconds of laying it all out, Azzi had brought her peace. A kind of peace Paige hadn’t even known she was searching for with a simple story about cutting her little brother's hair.

Or maybe it was in the hallway that same night. When she admitted she’d miss Azzi, the words feeling heavier than they should’ve. And Azzi, instead of overcomplicating it, just pulled her in, giving her something to hold onto, a quiet reassurance.

But then sometimes Paige thinks it was the next morning. When Paige, still groggy, had opened her door to find Azzi standing there in full UConn gear, clearly about to leave the hotel. Paige had barely mumbled out a good morning before Azzi stepped forward, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, like it was the most natural thing in the world and handed Paige a coffee, as if she knew that the blonde didn’t sleep much that night.

So yeah, Paige didn’t know the exact moment she fell for Azzi Fudd. But she knew that she had and she knew it happened when she was in California. She knew that she liked how Azzi made her feel. How Azzi made the world seem a little brighter. Like sunshine and rainbows as Paige would often sarcastically say when Azzi told her to cheer up.

Right now Azzi was lying in her bed, her phone propped up against her pillow as she absentmindedly toyed with the drawstring of her hoodie. Paige, on the other hand, was sitting at her desk, hunched over doing—well, Azzi wasn’t sure what exactly.

Azzi narrowed her eyes at the screen. "So, how was your LSU visit?"

Paige snorted, not even looking up. "It was alright."

Azzi raised a brow. "Alright? So… no?"

Paige finally glanced at her phone, looking at Azzi before smiling a little saying, "Not my vibe, is all."

Azzi smirked, shifting onto her side. "I feel like you say that about every team except UConn."

Paige leaned back in her chair, smirking right back. "Maybe I said it about UConn too. I just wouldn’t tell you."

Azzi’s jaw dropped at this. "That’s rude."

Paige just shrugged, clearly unbothered as she went back to whatever she was doing at her desk.

Azzi squinted at her. "What are you doing over there?"

Paige huffed as she leaned back in her chair again, throwing her pencil down on the desk. "I’m trying to do a sudoku."

Azzi snorted. "Why?"

Paige shrugged again.

Azzi’s lips curled into an amused grin as she propped herself up on one elbow. "Since when do you do sudoku?"

Paige groaned, dragging a hand down her face before resting her chin in her palm. "Since today. And probably not after today."

Azzi laughed, shaking her head. "Let me see."

Paige picked up her phone and angled it toward her desk. The screen showed a sudoku puzzle that looked… well, disastrous. Numbers were scratched out at the bottom, some squares had been filled in and erased multiple times, and at least one spot had what looked like a tiny doodle in the corner.

Azzi covered her mouth to muffle her laugh. "Oh my God."

Paige rolled her eyes but smirked. "Okay, mathlete. Relax."

Azzi grinned. "Do you even know the rules?"

"Yes, I know the rules," Paige said. "I just don’t know why there are so many numbers."

Azzi blinked. "Paige… that’s literally the point of sudoku."

Paige let out a deep sigh, tilting her head back. "See? This is why I don’t try new things. I need to just stick to dribbling a basketball."

Azzi hummed. "What’s got you trying new things, then?"

Paige shrugged as she pushed back from her desk and stood, stretching her arms above her head. Azzi watched as the hem of Paige’s shirt lifted, revealing parts of her toned stomach. She hadn’t meant to stare, but—okay, maybe she had a little.

Paige smirked, catching the way Azzi’s gaze lingered. She picked up her phone, bringing it closer to her face. "You’re a pervert."

Azzi scoffed. "I literally didn’t even do anything." But there was a slight smile on her lips, giving her away.

Paige dropped back onto her bed, lying on her side with one arm propped under her head. "You didn’t have to," she mumbled, eyes locked onto Azzi’s through the screen.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, shifting onto her stomach, resting her chin on her hands. "Oh? So now I’m just guilty by association?"

Paige’s smile deepened. "More so guilty by intention but sure."

Azzi let out a breath of laughter, shaking her head. "You’re actually the worst sometimes."

Paige tilted her head. "Am I really?"

Azzi caught the shift in tone, the playfulness turning into something a little more intentional. She pressed her lips together, debating for a second before deciding—fuck it.

"Mhm," Azzi hummed, trailing a finger along the edge of her phone as she watched Paige closely. "But I think you like it that way."

Paige licked her lips, her gaze flickering over Azzi’s face. "Maybe."

Azzi bit her lip, her voice turning softer. "You’re a little smug for someone who just got roasted over sudoku."

Paige grinned. "Mmm course I am, look at how you’re lookin at me."

Azzi exhaled a short laugh. "You’re so annoying."

Paige’s smirk didn’t waver as she said, “No I’m not."

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the way her cheeks warmed. "What am I gonna do with you?"

"I could give you a few ideas."

Azzi blinked, her breath catching just slightly. Paige was really pushing it now.

She swallowed, tilting her head. "Oh yeah?"

Paige nodded, her fingers idly playing with the ring she always wore on her finger. "Mhm. But I think you already know."

Azzi let out a slow breath as she shifted. "You sure you can handle me?"

Paige huffed out a chuckle as she licked her lips. "I think I already showed you I can handle you just fine, Azzi."

Azzi exhaled sharply, her stomach flipping at how Paige was looking at her through the screen—like she knew exactly what she was doing, exactly how she was making her feel.

Azzi bit her lip, her voice softer now. "I miss you."

Paige’s expression softened just slightly, but then, before Azzi could get too caught up in the moment, Paige smirked again. "You’re just horny."

Azzi’s eyes widened, her mouth parting in shock. "Paige!"

Paige just chuckled, clearly enjoying herself. "What? Am I wrong?"

Azzi narrowed her eyes, though the warmth creeping up her neck betrayed her. "You’re disgusting."

Paige propped herself up on her elbow, tilting her head as she studied Azzi through the screen. "I’m just saying… you’re looking at me like you want something."

Azzi huffed, shifting onto her back as she threw an arm over her face for a second before peeking at Paige again. "And what if I do?"

"Then I guess I’d have to do something about it next time I see you."

God, Azzi wished she hadn’t asked that question because now she was warm and uncomfortable, and the worst part was—she knew Paige knew. The way she was chuckling on the other side of the screen, made Azzi squirm even more.

Azzi groaned. "Paige, please."

Paige hummed, all teasing. "Hm?"

Azzi hesitated, debating whether she was really about to ask for help with her… situation, but before she could get the words out, there was a knock on Paige’s door.

Paige’s head moved toward it, her smirk fading slightly. "Yeah?"

The door creaked open, and Drew peeked inside. "Can I sleep in here tonight?"

Paige’s expression shifted instantly—her playfulness replaced with something softer, more serious. She sat up, nodding without hesitation. "Yeah, course." She scooted over on her bed, making space for him near the wall.

Reaching for her phone, she looked down at the screen, her gaze apologetic. "I’m sorry, I gotta go, I’ll text you in a sec."

Azzi shook her head, completely understanding. "Don’t apologize."

Paige gave her a small, grateful smile before they both hung up, leaving Azzi lying there, staring at the ceiling—still warm, still uncomfortable, and now, very much alone with the feelings.

Or at least she thought she was alone—until her phone buzzed a few times.

Azzi grabbed it from beside her, her brows raising slightly when she saw Paige’s name on the screen. She unlocked her phone, and the second she saw what Paige had sent, she felt her stomach tighten.

The pictures weren’t anything too overly suggestive, but they were enough.

Some were mirror selfies—Paige’s sweats low on her hips, her stomach on display, a sports bra the only thing covering her top half. Others were clearly taken after being in the gym, her skin still slightly flushed, her hair damp, the definition in her arms pronounced.

Azzi chuckled when she got to the last one—a hand pic.

All the pictures were followed by a message. "Get yourself right."

Another buzz. "I'm sorry I couldn't help. I got you next time."

Azzi exhaled sharply, her entire body warm, her face buried in her pillow as she groaned.

Somehow, even when she wasn’t physically there, Paige still had her in a chokehold.

Still, Azzi followed directions. She sighed, shifting against her sheets, wishing—aching—that it was Paige’s hand instead of her own.

…

Back in Minnesota Paige lay still beside Drew, both of them staring up at the ceiling, their arms thrown behind their heads in near identical positions as they laid in silence for a few minutes. It was almost uncanny how much they looked alike when you really looked at them, their features reflecting off one another from the dim glow of Paige’s bedside lamp. Drew had gotten older, taller, but in moments like these, Paige was reminded that he was still her little brother—the same kid who used to follow her around with wide eyes, hanging onto every word she said.

The silence stretched between them, Paige figuring Drew was just taking a while to fall asleep. Then, Drew said something.

“That girl you’re always talking to,” he started, his voice quiet but still confident, like Paige had taught him.

Paige turned her head slightly, already knowing where this was going. “Her name’s Azzi,” she corrected, a small smirk playing on her lips.

Drew hummed in acknowledgment. “Is Azzi the reason you’re leaving?”

Paige blinked, caught off guard for a split second before she turned her head to look at him. She studied him for a moment, the way his brows furrowed slightly, waiting for her answer. With a sigh she said, “You know how when you were younger and we always talked about you coming to my games when I got to the league?” she asked.

Drew simply nodded.

Paige exhaled, glancing back up at the ceiling. “That can’t happen if I stay where I’m at now.”

Drew was silent for a moment before he mumbled, “I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you.”

Paige let out a quiet chuckle. “You and Dad are moving to the DMV. I’ll be one call away, I swear.”

Drew turned his head, watching her carefully before he finally asked, “So you’re going to UConn?”

A slow smile spread across Paige’s face as she nodded. “Yeah. I’m gonna go to UConn.”

Drew studied her for another moment, then asked, “Have you told them yet?”

Paige sighed, shaking her head. “No, not yet.”

“Why not?”

Paige turned her head to look at him again, a different kind of warmth settling in her chest. She smirked slightly before answering. “I gotta tell Azzi first.”

Drew’s lips twitched into a grin as he turned onto his side, finally facing the wall to go to sleep. But not before adding, “You like her, huh?”

Paige rolled her eyes, but the smirk never left her lips. “Man, shut up. You’re supposed to be in here going to bed.”

Drew just laughed as he pulled the cover over his head to go to sleep.

Paige grabbed her phone from the nightstand, her fingers lingering over it for a moment before unlocking the screen. She chuckled softly when she saw a message from Azzi sent just three minutes ago. The message was simple, just a “Thank you.” Paige huffed out a quiet laugh when she saw the period.

She quickly typed out a response, her fingers moving without hesitation: Yup. After a brief pause, she added one more message, a soft smile tugging at her lips as she typed: Goodnight beautiful.

She read it over once more, her heart skipping just a little at the words before she locked her phone and set it back on the table. Paige turned off the light and settled into bed, pulling the covers up over her.

She stayed still for a while, her hands tucked behind her head, staring out the window that was across from her bed. The sudden quietness of the room seemed to amplify the thoughts racing through her mind, each one more tangled than the last.

She couldn't help but think of Drew, her little brother, and the way he'd come crawling into her bed tonight, like he’d done so many times before–seeking comfort from the chaos of his own thoughts. Her heart ached just thinking about it. She’d been around for every significant moment of his life, his constant lifeline, and she couldn’t help but feel guilty for leaving him behind, even if it was for the right reasons.

But then, as if the universe was constantly reminding her of the duality of her life, another thought would emerge: the weight of her future, the pressure to fulfill a dream she’d been chasing since she could walk. She wanted to go back to the notoriety she used to have, not because of the attention it gave her, but because of what came with it—the ability to give her family the life they deserved, to give back. To provide for Drew, her dad, her mom.

Paige sighed softly, her body sinking deeper into the mattress, as she tried to will her mind to quiet for just a moment so she could fall asleep. She was exhausted, physically and emotionally, but the thoughts kept coming. She knew it would take time, a lot of effort, and maybe even more sacrifice to make everything fall into place. But for tonight, she just wanted a break from the weight of it all. Just a few minutes of peace. She closed her eyes, exhaling a long breath as she tried to empty her mind, willing herself to relax.

It wasn’t long before another thought slipped into her head—Azzi. This time, instead of adding weight, like everything else, it brought a sense of comfort. Azzi wasn’t like anyone else in Paige’s life. Thinking about Azzi didn’t tighten her chest or add more confusion to her already overwhelming thoughts. When her mind drifted to Azzi, everything else seemed to fade into the background. Because she knew Azzi didn’t expect anything from her. Azzi wasn’t asking Paige to be anyone but herself—she didn’t have any preconceived notions about who Paige used to be. The girl on the other end of those late-night Facetimes only knew Paige from what she’d shared. The thoughts she had were based on the present, not some past version of Paige.

That was the thing that should've terrified Paige. She wasn’t used to feeling so... seen, without the weight of what others thought she should be or the pressure of always having to do the right thing. Azzi didn’t ask for any of that. The simplicity of their connection, how natural it felt, should have sent her running in the opposite direction, a voice in the back of her mind telling her it was too easy, too comfortable for the kind of world they lived in. They hadn’t even had a serious conversation about what they were or what they had going on—and yet, Paige didn’t worry about it.

She should’ve been terrified of how she felt about Azzi already–it had only been a few months. But for some reason, anytime she thought about her, the only thing Paige felt was calmness. She rarely thought about it if she was being honest. It just felt right. Everything about Azzi felt... right. Like the pieces of her life, of their connection, were meant to fall into place in the way they had.

As Paige lay there, still, her mind slowing down for the first time that night she couldn’t help but smile a little. The thought of being around Azzi all the time, physically being with her instead of having to hear her voice through a phone. Being able to physically touch her. It all seemed too good to be true, but Paige didn’t worry about that—she thought just maybe that the universe was finally repaying her.

Third Person POV - March 2024

After taking a shower Paige sat on the edge of her hotel bed, the soft glow of her phone illuminating her face as she idly scrolled, waiting. The room itself was silent, but Paige’s mind was buzzing with anticipation. She knew it was only a matter of time before Azzi texted her or called. It always happened that way after games.

She leaned back against the pillows, letting out a slow breath as she glanced at the time. UConn had won their Sweet Sixteen game against Duke earlier that night, and unknowingly to Azzi, Paige had been there to witness it. She had come down with her dad and Drew, who hadn’t seen UConn play in person yet. The three of them had seats in the stands, and while it felt strange watching from far, Paige loved the experience.

Her dad and Drew were sharing a room down the hall, while she had her own. Now, alone in her room, Paige found herself sitting, waiting—because she knew Azzi would reach out. Azzi never let too much time pass without talking to her.

Right on cue, her phone buzzed. “You up?”

Paige chuckled to herself, shaking her head before typing out a response.

Paige 💗You a 16-year-old boy now?

Azzi’s reply came almost immediately.

Azzi <3 Lol I’ll take that as a yes

Paige smirked, stretching one of her arms over her head before texting back.

Paige 💗I was waiting on you

Azzi <3 Oh yeah?

Paige💗Yeah.

The typing bubbles appeared for a moment before disappearing, and then suddenly, Paige’s screen lit up with an incoming FaceTime call. Her smirk deepened as she swiped to answer, settling back against the pillows.

When the call connected, all Paige could see was the bathroom ceiling, but she could hear Azzi’s voice.

"Why are you always flirting with me?"

Paige laughed. "Cause you like it."

"No, I don’t," Azzi shot back, but there was no real conviction behind her words—it was clearly a lie.

Paige raised an eyebrow, playing along. "No?"

"No," Azzi repeated, but Paige could hear the slight waver in her voice.

Paige chuckled. "Why not?"

There was a pause before Azzi mumbled, "Because all it does is make me sexually frustrated."

Paige smirked at that, biting her lip before saying, "Lemme fix that for you, then."

"Paige, please," Azzi groaned, still off-screen.

Paige chuckled. "Please what?"

"I really can’t handle that today," Azzi muttered. "I won’t be alone for the next week, and I already feel like I’m about to explode."

Paige hummed, amused at Azzi’s frustration. "That’s not a problem."

She heard Azzi groan again, making her chuckle. "Azzi, come to the camera."

There was a beat of silence, then a soft shuffle. A few seconds later, Azzi finally appeared with a towel wrapped around her, clearly fresh out of the shower.

"Where are you?" she asked, scanning Paige’s unfamiliar background.

Paige tilted her head slightly. "My hotel room."

Azzi's expression was filled with confusion. "What? You’re done with visits."

Paige grinned. "That’s what I been tryna tell you." Then, more sincerely, she added, "You played great today, by the way."

Azzi smiled at the compliment before quickly piecing together what Paige was saying. "Wait—you’re here? In Portland?"

Paige simply nodded, watching as realization dawned on Azzi’s face. A grin spread as soon as the realization sank in.

"What room are you in?" she asked, her voice carrying an excitement that wasn’t there before.

"617," Paige answered smoothly.

Azzi didn’t hesitate. "I’ll be down there soon."

Paige hummed in response as Azzi hung up the phone.

A few minutes later a sharp knock at the door shocked Paige a little, but she didn’t hesitate when she got up to answer it. She swung it open without even checking the peephole, already knowing exactly who was on the other side.

Before she could fully take in Azzi’s appearance—her damp hair, the cropped shirt she must’ve thrown on in a hurry—Azzi rushed forward, crashing their lips together.

The kiss from Azzi is urgent and unrestrained. Paige stumbles back a little, her hands instinctively gripping Azzi’s waist as she pulls her in, making sure neither of them lose their balance. The door swings shut behind them with a loud thud, the only sound in the room now is their heavy breaths as they press closer to one another.

Azzi’s hands find Paige’s jaw, tilting her head to deepen the kiss, while Paige steadies them both, her fingers slipping beneath the loose cropped shirt Azzi has on. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing—just unspoken longing spilling over now that they’re finally in the same place again.

After what feels like an eternity of them standing there, Azzi pulls back just enough to whisper against Paige’s lips, “You really didn’t think to tell me you were here?”

Paige smirks, her hands still on Azzi’s waist. “Figured a surprise was more fun.”

Azzi huffs out a small laugh before tugging Paige back in, shaking her head as she mumbles, “You’re ridiculous.” But she doesn’t seem to think so when Paige’s tongue slides in her mouth.

They move together, stumbling but somehow in sync, until they reach the foot of the bed. Despite how frantic it seems, Paige is careful—guiding them, making sure Azzi doesn’t trip over anything in her rush. They stay standing at the foot of the bed for a moment, lost in one another, lips moving, hands exploring like they’re memorizing the feeling of each other.

Then Azzi pulls back just enough, her fingers slipping under the hem of Paige’s shirt. Paige lifts her arms, letting Azzi tug it over her head. The second it’s gone, Azzi discards her own shirt and doesn’t waste another moment before pulling her back in, her lips crashing into Paige’s.

Paige chuckles against her mouth, breaking the kiss just enough to murmur, “Baby, slow down—” her hands find Azzi’s waist, thumbs smoothing over her skin as she whispers, “Lemme see you.”

Azzi, still a little dazed, blinks at Paige and murmurs, “What did you just call me?”

Paige chuckles, shaking her head as she tries to play it off. “Nothing,” she says casually. “I said, lemme see you.”

Azzi doesn’t press—at least, not yet. Instead, she lowers herself onto the bed, looking up at Paige through her eyelashes, the corners of her lips tugging up just slightly.

Paige exhales, rolling her eyes playfully. “Don’t look at me like that.” She steps closer, brushing her thumb along Azzi’s chin, her touch impossibly gentle despite the tension crackling between them.

Azzi tilts her head, feigning innocence. “Like what?”

Paige groans, her fingers curling under Azzi’s chin as she mutters, “Like that.”

Azzi just blinks up at her, a soft smile playing on her lips.

Paige exhales sharply, shaking her head as she steps back. “You know what you’re doing,” she mutters, turning away.

Azzi simply shrugs. “Maybe.”

She watches as Paige leans against the desk across from the bed. Azzi takes her in, letting her gaze roam—Paige’s hair pulled back in a loose bun, her diamond earrings catching the light, the black shorts sitting on her hips, paired with a black Nike sports bra. And then there’s her cross necklace, resting just above her chest.

Azzi smirks. “Why are you dressed like that?”

Paige lifts an eyebrow, silently challenging the question. Like what?

Azzi shakes her head, her smile deepening. “Come here.”

Paige pushes off the desk and walks over, looking at Azzi the entire time. The moment she’s close enough, Azzi reaches for her necklace, curling her fingers around it as she gives a gentle tug, pulling Paige down toward her on the bed.

Paige hovers over Azzi, smiling down at her, amusement flickering in her eyes. Azzi meets her gaze, fingers still curled around the necklace. She gives it another tug, just enough to bring Paige down to her level, and their lips meet again—this one is slower, more intimate, as if they’re finally allowing themselves to just exist in this moment.

There’s no urgency, no frantic need to make up for lost time.

Paige starts to pull away, but Azzi’s fingers tighten around the chain, keeping her close. Their lips reconnect, and Paige can’t help but smile into it, letting out a soft chuckle at Azzi’s persistence. Azzi hums against her mouth, clearly pleased with herself, and Paige deepens the kiss for just a second longer before murmuring against her lips, “So this is how it is, huh?”

Azzi hums in response, deepening the kiss, and Paige lets her, letting herself sink into the warmth of it as Azzi’s fingers stay wrapped around her necklace, keeping her close, as if she’s afraid Paige will disappear if she lets go.

After a while, both of their lips are raw when Paige pulls back just enough to murmur, “I gotta tell you something.”

Azzi doesn’t release her immediately, stealing a few more kisses before finally loosening her grip on the chain. Paige smirks at the reluctance before pulling back slightly, still hovering over Azzi.

Azzi tilts her head, her fingers fully undoing Paige’s bun that she messed up. “What?”

Paige exhales softly, then says it as casually as if she’s commenting on the weather. “I’m coming to UConn.”

Azzi blinks up at her, the words not quite registering at first. “What?”

Paige chuckles, brushing a loose curl from Azzi’s face. “I’m transferring to UConn.”

The grin that spreads across Azzi’s face is instant and huge, her excitement practically radiating off of her. Without thinking, she wraps her arms around Paige and pulls her into a hug, the force of it making Paige collapse onto her with a laugh.

Azzi holds on tight, her face buried in Paige’s shoulder, her voice muffled as she says, “Are you serious?”

Paige just laughs again, wrapping her arms around Azzi in return. "Yeah. I'm serious."

Azzi pulls back slightly, looking at Paige with surprise. "When did you tell Geno?" she asks, her voice filled with curiosity.

Paige shrugs. "I haven't yet. I wanted to tell you first."

Azzi’s expression softens, a wide grin spreading across her face. "You wanted to tell me first?"

Paige nods, her gaze softening as she meets Azzi’s eyes. "Yeah."

Azzi smirks, leaning up slightly. "Aww, that’s sweet."

Paige rolls her eyes, but a small smile tugs at the corner of her lips. "Alright, shut up," she mumbles, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks.

Azzi chuckles, clearly enjoying the moment. "I’m just saying. It’s cute."

Paige exhales a quiet laugh, rolling her eyes as she mutters, "Whatever," before leaning back down to kiss Azzi.

This time, the kiss is slower, deeper—Paige’s weight pressing into Azzi completely as their lips move in sync. Azzi feels the warmth of Paige’s body against hers, the way Paige’s knee slides in between her legs. She lets herself sink into it, her hands finding their way to Paige’s sides, fingers curling against her skin as she pulls her closer.

The moment is so consuming that it takes a second before Azzi realizes where her hands are—right over the scar. The very place Paige had once pulled her away from, tensing at her touch.

Azzi stills, her breath hitching as she pulls back slightly, ready to apologize, but before she can say a word, she notices that Paige hasn’t moved away.

She’s still there, still hovering over her, her blue eyes looking a little shocked but still soft as they search Azzi’s face. There’s a little hesitation in her eyes but no discomfort—then slowly just a quiet acceptance.

Azzi barely has time to process it before Paige leans back down, capturing her lips in another kiss, deeper this time. It’s slow and almost calculated, as if Paige is telling her without words that it’s okay. That she wants this. That she wants her. At this, Azzi flips them over, her movements instinctual, and suddenly, she’s the one hovering over Paige. Paige lets out a quiet breath of surprise, her blue eyes flickering with something unreadable—something Azzi has come to know all too well.

Azzi doesn’t give her time to think too much. She dips down, trailing her lips along the sharp curve of Paige’s jaw, then lower, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses down her neck. Paige licks her lips at the feeling, willing her body to relax beneath Azzi’s as she sighs slightly, her fingers brushing along Azzi’s back.

Azzi smiles against Paige’s chest, taking her time, savoring every second of this—of Paige letting her in, letting her touch her like this. She feels Paige shift slightly beneath her again, feels Paige pulling her closer, and the small action makes something warm bloom in Azzi’s chest.

So she keeps going, kissing down the column of Paige’s throat, feeling her pulse racing beneath her lips, feeling the way Paige’s breath hitches every time she lingers just a second too long.

Paige couldn’t help but sigh at how soft Azzi’s lips felt against her throat, how warm and steady she felt hovering over her. It was effortless—the way Azzi moved, the way she kissed her, like she had all the time in the world. She was making sure to kiss every part of Paige’s neck, every inch of exposed skin, trailing lower with no rush, no hesitation.

Both of them had a soft appreciation for this moment. For Azzi, it was about memorizing Paige like this—unworried by the outside world, just them, just this. And for Paige, it was about allowing herself to let go, even if just for a little while.

She knew, from all their late-night FaceTime calls, that Azzi understood her in a way not many people did. Azzi knew that Paige didn’t like giving up control—that it wasn’t in her nature, that her brain basically screamed at her when she wasn’t in control of something. She knew that Paige always had to be the one holding the reins, the one dictating the pace, the one leading.

But right now, Paige wasn’t doing that.

Right now, she was letting Azzi take the lead. She was willing herself to trust the girl hovering above her. And the way Azzi handled her, with such care and patience, made it feel easier than she thought it would be.

Azzi watches Paige closely as she trails lower, her lips brushing over her skin, her hands smoothing over Paige’s sides. When she glances up, all she sees is Paige with her eyes closed, lips slightly parted, chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths. She smiles at the sight, at the trust Paige is giving her, and then she dips back down, kissing every inch of her stomach with the same patience she had when she started.

But when she reaches the scar, she hesitates. Because it’s a tricky thing—she can’t ignore this part of Paige, wouldn’t want to, but she also knows it’s sensitive, both physically and emotionally.

So, she starts slowly. A soft kiss. She feels Paige’s stomach tense slightly beneath her, the smallest shift, but she doesn’t tell her to stop.

So she places another kiss. Then another. Azzi takes her time, shifting her lips along every part of the scar, not missing an inch. She even moves to Paige’s side, making sure to trail her kisses as far as she can.

When she finally looks up, Paige’s eyes are open now, watching Azzi’s every move.

Then, Paige’s hand moves.

Azzi stills when she feels the gentle brush of Paige’s thumb against her cheek. She leans into it instinctively, closing her eyes for a brief second before looking back at her.

Paige is watching her, something unreadable in her expression, but there’s absolutely no hesitation in the way she touches her.

Azzi turns her head slightly, pressing a kiss to Paige’s palm before murmuring, “You okay?”

Paige nods. “Yeah.”

Azzi’s smile is soft as she moves back up, her lips finding Paige’s. As their mouths move together, her hand drifts lower, sliding easily into Paige’s shorts where she runs her fingers against Paige. The touch is barely there, but it pulls a reaction from Paige immediately—a low, involuntary sound escaping her lips.

Azzi chuckles, pulling back just enough to murmur, “You good?”

Paige nods, her breath a little uneven. “Mhm,” she manages, but then Azzi is sliding into Paige, settling completely before she’s pulling them out again agonizingly slow. Paige’s eyelids flutter as she exhales shakily, her voice coming out softer now, more like a whisper. “That feels good…”

Azzi smiles against her lips, happy with the effect she’s having on her. So she keeps the slow pace going, feeling the way Paige subtly arches into each time she curls her fingers. After some time, when she feels Paige getting a little more urgent in her movements, Azzi pulls away from the kiss. Creating just enough space between them to take in Paige’s face fully. To see her reactions.

Paige opens her eyes to look up at her, blue eyes heavy, but locked onto Azzi’s with an intensity that makes Azzi’s breath catch. There’s something about the way she’s looking at her—like she’s completely lost in her.

Azzi’s voice is quiet as she whispers. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Paige swallows hard at that, something deep in her chest tightening, like she might explode under the weight of those words. Her fingers flex against Azzi’s back as she struggles to find a response, but the truth is, she doesn’t need to say anything—Azzi already knows.

The way Azzi is looking at her, like she’s the only thing that matters in the world—makes her heart pound faster. Feeling Azzi move in and out of her almost perfectly, sends a warmth spreading through Paige’s entire body. She feels overwhelmed, not just by the sensation but by the way Azzi is completely focused on her, on every reaction she’s having.

Paige swallows, her throat suddenly dry. “Azzi…” she whispers out, not even sure what she wants to say.

Azzi just smiles, dipping her head down to brush her lips against Paige’s again. “I mean it,” she whispers against her mouth. “You’re so beautiful Paige.”

Paige exhales shakily, her fingers flexing against Azzi’s back, like she needs to hold onto something solid to keep herself from falling apart completely. “…Shut up,” she finally mumbles, but there’s no real bite to it.

Azzi raises her eyebrows, surprised by this response. But then she’s smiling because Paige’s blue eyes are completely hazy, her chest is rising and falling quicker now, her body reacting in ways she’s clearly struggling to control as she throws her head back against the pillow.

“Fuck— I’m sorry, I just—” Paige starts, but she can’t finish, her voice becoming unsteady. Azzi just chuckles, continuing her pace but adding a little pressure as she slides her knee in between Paige’s legs.

“It’s okay,” Azzi reassures her, keeping her voice gentle. “I know.”

But Paige’s breathing only stutters more, her body tense beneath Azzi. Azzi lowers her head near Paige’s ear. “Relax, baby.”

Paige takes a sharp inhale at hearing Azzi whisper in her ear, her fingers gripping Azzi’s arm tightly. Still, she listens—taking a deep unsteady breath, forcing herself to settle.

Azzi kisses the corner of her jaw, feeling the tension in Paige’s body start to unravel beneath her. “That’s it,” she whispers, dragging her lips along Paige’s skin as she speeds up her movements.

Paige swallows hard. “Azzi I—”

“Sshhh,” Azzi soothes, as she adjusts so she has more room to keep her pace. “I know.”

And then Paige is tensing under her all over again.

Paige’s words come out choked, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t think I can…I can’t…it’s—”

Azzi lifts her head, “Look at me,” she murmurs.

Paige forces her eyes open, her eyelids are low and her eyes are unfocused as they lock onto Azzi’s. Once their eyes lock Azzi slows her pace again, curling her fingers perfectly every time she moves. Making sure Paige feels her.

“Just relax for me,” Azzi whispers.

Paige swallows, nodding once, never breaking eye contact as she takes another deep breath. As soon as she does that it hits—her body trembling, breath hitching, fingers tightening against Azzi’s back.

Azzi leans down, immediately taking Paige’s lips in her own, swallowing every shaky breath, every quiet whimper, every moan, until Paige finally starts to settle beneath her.

Before Azzi even knows what’s happening, Paige is flipping them over. When she does this, she’s a lot more feverish than Azzi was, her lips trailing down Azzi’s jaw, sucking and nipping along the way, like she can’t get enough of her.

Azzi, already worked up just from watching Paige, takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “Fuck Paige—”

Paige hums against her skin, the sound vibrating through Azzi’s body.

Azzi exhales shakily. “I really can’t wait. It’s been too long.”

Paige lifts her head, her pupils dilated, she nods once before leaning back down, sealing her lips over Azzi’s again.

Paige easily slides her hand into Azzi’s pajama shorts and groans when there’s no other barrier and she immediately feels how ready Azzi is for her. Paige whispers out, “Fuck baby, why you didn’t tell me.” Before Azzi can respond Paige is easily sliding her fingers into Azzi.

As soon as Paige does this, Azzi’s breath hitches, and she mumbles, “Oh god.” Paige smirks, feeling the heat radiating from Azzi’s body as she easily takes her in.

Azzi, already feeling the tug in her stomach, grabs Paige’s waist and pulls her closer, the weight of Paige on top of her having Azzi closing her eyes in relief. She runs her hands up and down Paige’s back, her breath growing shallow. “I miss you so much,” Azzi murmurs.

Paige leans down to kiss her. “I miss you, too pretty girl,” she replies softly.

Azzi exhales a quiet, needy sound at the nickname, she wraps her arms tightly around Paige’s shoulders and hooks her legs around Paige’s waist, using the leverage to pull her closer. A low groan escapes her lips as Paige presses deeper into her, her fingers tangling into Paige’s hair seeking any piece of her she can get.

A few moments later, Azzi’s phone rings from the nightstand, popping the bubble they created. The first time, Azzi ignores it, her attention completely on the way Paige is making her feel, but then it rings again. Again, she ignores it, letting Paige continue, her hands never leaving Paige’s head, but when it rings a third time, Azzi can’t ignore it anymore.

With a deep sigh, she reaches over to grab the phone, still breathing unevenly from the way Paige feels inside of her. She glances at the screen and sees Caroline’s name flashing.

Azzi sighs again, this time louder, her chest tightening. Paige, noticing the change, starts to shift off of her, but Azzi grabs her, shaking her head, “No… don’t,” she says softly, pushing Paige’s head into her neck. Paige is a little surprised at this but she complies with what Azzi wants as she starts placing open mouth kisses to Azzi’s neck, curling her fingers as she does it.

Reluctantly, Azzi answers the phone, her voice completely breathy as she says, “Yes, Caroline?”

Caroline’s voice comes through the phone. “You have 15 minutes.” And before Azzi can respond, Caroline hangs up, already knowing exactly what Azzi is doing.

Azzi throws her phone somewhere and immediately pulls Paige back into a kiss, this time more urgent. Both of them are aware of the time slipping away, and the need to be close is almost overwhelming.

Paige, knowing what she needs to do to speed the process up for Azzi, adjusts so she can use her thumb adding slow soft circles to the mix as she continues to curl her fingers.

It doesn’t take long for Azzi’s body to shake under Paige’s touch, her breath coming in shallow bursts as her hands tighten around Paige. She tries to speak, but the words don’t come out clearly, her chest heaving with every shaky exhale.

“P-Paige…Yes—” she stammers, struggling to find her voice as Paige’s continues to work in and out of her, drawing another tremor from her. “Fuck—” Her hands find Paige’s back, trying to pull her impossibly closer, her fingers digging into her skin as she gasps. “I… want you... so much...”

Azzi’s words slip into a breathless murmur, almost incoherent. Paige slows her rhythm as she helps Azzi ride out the sensation, her smile growing as she watches her.

“You have me,” Paige whispers, pressing her forehead to Azzi’s as they both savor the moment.

They stay just like that for a second, both of them breathing deeply, still feeling the weight of each other. There’s a quiet, unspoken understanding between them as they both lay there, hearts still racing in sync.

Paige breaks the silence with a soft murmur, “You gotta go.”

Azzi exhales slowly, her body still warm beneath Paige’s, but the words don’t seem to make her move just yet. She pulls Paige closer instead, pressing a kiss to her lips before she mumbles, “I know.”

Even as she says it, Azzi’s hands tangle in Paige’s hair, and the kiss turns more urgent. The heat between them grows again, their lips moving together perfectly, tasting each other in a way that seems to say they’re not ready to let go, not yet.

But eventually, Azzi pulls away, her chest rising and falling. She gives Paige one last lingering look before she’s tapping her to stand up. Once Paige rolls off of her, Azzi stands, stretching and crossing the room to grab Paige’s discarded shirt from the floor, easily slipping it over her head.

Paige smirks, her eyes following Azzi’s every movement, and as she stands up from the bed she says. “Look at you, putting on my shirt. Ms. ‘Don’t get used to it.’”

Azzi rolls her eyes, as she slips her Uggs back on. Paige mirrors the move, grabbing her phone and keycard, ready to walk Azzi upstairs.

Azzi’s voice breaks the quiet. “You’re not going to put on a shirt?”

Paige laughs, glancing down at herself. “You kinda sorta stole mine.”

Azzi laughs softly, nodding. “Fair enough.” She watches as Paige glances at herself in the mirror, her jaw tightening just slightly before she looks toward Azzi.

“I should be fine. It’s pretty late.”

Azzi nods, grabbing her hand and the two of them step out of the room, walking down the hall toward the elevator. The walk feels too short and they reach Azzi’s door before they know it.

Azzi reaches out first, pulling Paige toward her in one more kiss. It's slow, a little messy—her lips pressing against Paige's with a delicate urgency. Azzi’s arms slide over Paige’s shoulders, her fingers playing with the hair at the back of Paige’s neck and Paige responds, her hands wrapping around Azzi’s waist, pulling her in closer.

But then the door to Azzi’s room swings open, and Caroline peeks her head out. She doesn’t seem surprised by what she sees, “You deadass have like a minute.”

Like most people, because humans truly can’t help it, her eyes flicker down to Paige’s exposed torso, and Paige immediately notices the look.

The moment shifts, the lightness of Paige’s energy almost vanishing as she steps back from Azzi. Her jaw tightens, her fingers subconsciously starting to fiddle with the ring on her finger. She clears her throat, putting a little more distance between them. “I’ll text you, okay?” she says, her voice quieter now, and Azzi nods, understanding the sudden shift.

Paige takes one last look at Azzi, giving her a small smile then turns to walk away.

As Azzi and Caroline walk into the suite. Caroline watches as Azzi shuts the door and as soon as Azzi starts walking towards her bed, Caroline can’t help herself. “What was that?” she asks, her voice light with curiosity.

Azzi glances at her but doesn’t pause in her movement. “That was a kiss,” she answers simply.

Caroline raises an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with that response. She shifts slightly on the couch. “Obviously. But I’m not talking about that.”

Azzi stops in her tracks, knowing exactly where this conversation is headed. She takes a breath, turns, and faces Caroline. “Then what was what?”

Caroline is persistent, but her tone is soft and inquisitive, rather than pushy. “She had this huge scar on her side. I saw it when you were...you know. What’s going on with that?” Caroline’s eyes flicker with concern, showing she’s not trying to pry in a harsh way.

“It’s nothing,” Azzi says simply, keeping her voice neutral.

Caroline frowns, not convinced. “Azzi, that’s not nothing,” she says gently. “Is she okay?”

Azzi finally looks at Caroline. “She is.”

Caroline senses the finality in Azzi’s words and nods slowly, her curiosity still piqued, but understanding that Azzi isn’t going to share more. “Alright. I get it,” Caroline says, leaning back on the couch, not pressing any further.

True to Paige's word, as Azzi climbs into bed, her phone buzzes. She picks it up with a smile, seeing Paige's name light up the screen. Her fingers quickly swipe across the screen.

Paige💗You good?

Azzi reads the text and replies with a single word, followed by another.

Azzi <3 Course

Azzi <3 Why wouldn’t I be?

A few moments later, Paige responds.

Paige💗We kinda rushed for you.

Azzi’s chest warms a little at that. She pauses before texting back.

Azzi <3 You’re sweet

Azzi <3 Truly

Azzi <3 But the word "quickie" exists for a reason

Paige’s reaction comes through quickly — adding a laughing reaction to the message. Before adding

Paige💗Just wanted to make sure.

As Paige and Azzi continue their text exchange, a knock at the door interrupts the rhythm of the conversation for a second. Caroline glances over before moving to answer it, pulling the door open just enough to see who’s there.

CD stands in the hallway, her expression neutral as she steps just inside the room. Her gaze scans the space, quickly landing on Azzi sitting up on her bed, phone in hand. CD gives a small, satisfied nod, completing her room check, but her eyes linger for a second longer when she notices the shirt Azzi is wearing—the familiar bold Minnesota lettering printed across the front.

If CD has any thoughts about it, she doesn’t voice them. Instead, she offers a simple, “Goodnight, girls.” She doesn’t wait for a response, turning on her heel and pulling the door shut behind her.

Azzi chuckles under her breath, shaking her head slightly before turning her attention back to her phone, her fingers resuming their steady taps against the screen. Her smile growing as she sends another message to Paige.

Meanwhile, Caroline moves through the dim room, flipping off the last light before climbing into her bed.

Azzi remains awake, the faint glow of her phone illuminating her face as she continues the constant back-and-forth with Paige.

[khioneee]

YOURS, ALWAYS

synopsis. caleb has always given you flowers on every valentine’s day.

pairing. caleb x reader.

word count. 566.

an. might edit and add unto this later.

when you were younger, caleb made you flowers.

folded carefully from paper, edges crisp, each petal perfectly shaped. he would sit beside you, folding them in silence, handing them over like it was nothing, like it wasn’t the most thoughtful thing in the world.

they won’t wilt this way,’ he told you once, as if that was the only thing that mattered.

he never explained why he did it.

never said what made him start or why he kept going. but every year, without fail, on valentine’s day, you would find another one waiting for you.

one on your desk when you got to school. one in your locker, tucked carefully between your books. one waiting on your pillow when you got home, folded so carefully, you were afraid to touch it.

so you kept it in between the pages of your journal, making sure they won’t crease. hidden from the world, a treasure just for you.

a reminder.

as you got older, valentine’s day started to mean something different. you saw it happening around you. girls with fresh bouquets in their hands, arms full of chocolates, faces lit up with excitement. boys fumbling through confessions, shy and nervous, hoping for a chance.

but you never got anything.

not a single flower.

you told yourself it didn’t matter. that you didn’t care about valentine’s day, that it was just another day. but you found yourself curled up on the couch next to gran, voice quiet as you sobbed.

‘am i just not the kind of girl people want to give flowers to?’

gran had sighed, smoothing down your hair, whispering soft reassurances, telling you that wasn’t true. but the ache in your chest remained.

and caleb heard.

the next day, he was waiting for you, arms full of roses. before you could even react, he shoved them toward you, eyes narrowed, mouth set in a stubborn line.

‘there. now shut up and stop crying, pipsqueak.’

the flowers nearly smothered you, their petals pressing against your face as you struggled to push them down.

you were tentative, so, so gentle and careful with the flowers he gave you, heart constricting as you asked, ‘where did you even get these?’

he didn’t answer, just shoved them at you again, unwilling to meet your eyes.

you didn’t know then that he had stolen them straight from your neighbor’s yard. his hands bloody and scattered with scratches from the thorns. or that the reason you never got flowers was because he made sure no one else dared to give you any.

but even then, you still knew.

you knew that if no one else would give you flowers, caleb would. even if he would never say why. and you were okay with that.

now, years later, you stand frozen in your doorway, staring at the floor.

a trail of flower petals stretches out in front of you, leading away from your room.

your chest tightens as you step forward, heart pounding, following them carefully down the hallway, down the stairs, through the front door.

and there, at the very end of the path, caleb is waiting.

he stands in the soft glow of the porch light, a proper bouquet in his hands. real flowers this time, carefully arranged.

he holds them loosely, not shoving them in your face like he used to, not forcing them on you like before. this time, he isn’t rushing to cover up a mistake or make up for something he didn’t say. this time, he’s sure.

his smirk is still there, but it’s softer now, his amethyst eyes steady on yours.

‘i should’ve done it properly from the start. but i’m doing it now, and i’m not letting anyone else take my place.’

the ache in your chest from all those years ago is gone, replaced with something warm er, something sure. you no longer had your heart in the cages of chest captive.

because this time, there’s no doubt.

caleb was always yours.

[barbwritesstuff]

Thicker Than - Full Moon Update

Demo Link

Happy full moon everyone! I’m still just doing my thing, slowly but surely nudging this game towards the finish line. I know it’s taking forever, but I know I’ll get there in the end. I’m a completionist. It’s a blessing and a curse.

In terms of new stuff, I’ve added some new stuff to chapter 12, finished chapter 13, and added but not finished chapters 14 and 15. The players who get the most new content right now are players who want to talk to or kill the king and/or those who’ve romanced Nathan. However, there is some new connective tissue text that all players will see.

The demo has a few holes in it right now. I’ve been skipping over the romantic scenes so I can get a bigger, clearer picture of how the endgame is going to look and how it’s going to play out. Once that’s locked in, I think it’ll be easier to interweave the auxiliary stuff (which includes most of the kissing). In the meantime, I’m so excited to write these last three endings. I’m so close I can taste 'em.

Oh! And, before I forget, I haven’t had time to made new chapter titles (I made them way back when I started writing this game and only made up to chapter 13) so those headers aren’t going to look pretty yet, but hopefully that’s okay.

Update Details +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

As of the 13th of February 2025

Chapter 13 is finished

I've added Chapters 14 and 15 (both incomplete)

Additional Words: 18,929 (excluding commands)

Total Word Count: 497,962 (excluding commands)

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

P.S.

If you want, you can become a member on Kofi to see my weekly progress for $5 AUD (which is like $3.13 USD) a month. Full disclose, I'm not writing very fast right now. I've got several projects I need to balance and also real life stuff (like earning a living) to worry about. However, I'm really trying to update every Friday and I'm very grateful for anyone who does contribute. Just that little bit of extra income at the end of the month has made what would've been some very stressful times last year manageable and I cannot thank you all enough.

Also included: random unscheduled blog posts.

P.S (squared)

I have a book coming out!

Spaceship vs Dracula. It's very silly, it's very strange. It's the thing that got me through 2022.

Also, because it's full moon here's a gif. Remember when I used to open all of these update posts with a random moon gif? Yeah. Me neither.

[tusswrites]

The Pursuit Of Love (c.sc)

“Because stupid, you’re my best friend. You don’t slow dance with best friends."

PAIRING: Choi Seungcheol x fem! Reader

WORD COUNT: 21k

GENRE: angst, fluff, crack, childhood best friends to lovers, romcom, idiots in love

RATING: 18+ MDNI

WARNING: it gets angsty at some parts, the reader is high-key delusional and possesses probably one brain cell, mentions of depression, mentions of school bullying, profanity, over usage of hyphens and dots my forever allies , complete abuse of art jargon since the author refused to research for lack of time(pardon in advance), mentions of sexual acts, MDNI

SYNOPSIS : a heart’s relentless quest for love, fueled by the perfect visions of romance etched into the world around you, woven through the bittersweet tapestry of rejections, heartbreaks, and long-buried secrets. along the way, you uncover that perhaps the love you've been chasing has been quietly waiting, right beneath your nose all this time.

CREDITS: a big big shoutout to my darling eunha @svtiddiess who was with me every step of the way, cheering me on, reading through what once started out as just a thought, devolved to whatever this is and just being the best person overall, this fic wouldn't have happened had it not been for her .. so insanely grateful for you my little bugger ; bennie @miniseokminnies for the pretty banner, chee-chee darling @nothoughtsjustfic, and lovely asteria @chugging-antiseptic-dye for helping me with the fic! You were both like the angel and devil on my shoulder, encouraging and critiquing me at the perfect times when I needed it best.

A .N. : this is part of the 'lonely hearts cafe' collab by @camandemstudios. check out the other works !

masterlist here. please comment or reblog with thoughts if you enjoyed it ♥️

♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥

I

In a small town, away from the suburbs and nestled among gossiping aunts and children who ran around it with war cries, protecting the honor of their dwelling place, masked in the attire they wore for the games they had in mind, dwelled the Chois. Barricaded by a fence that had once been put up, your family lived just across from them.

You cannot imagine a moment when you were not joined to Cheol at the hip. Your grandfathers were best friends, and your mothers were best friends, leading to you and Cheol becoming best friends. It was dictated by the law of science after all. They joke that your mothers were resigned to having their children be best friends, to continue the tradition that they conceived at the same time, a joke your father very much likes not to take part in, thank you very much. You’ll find him bringing up the nine-month age gap between you and Cheol at every intervention. The little town you both grew up in had its fair share of weird quirks and eccentric people, as most towns do. One outlandish custom that ran in your town was the law of intermarriage between its townsfolk. You see, the prom king marries the prom queen, the gardener marries the florist, the town mayor marries the best baker in Myeongdong, and the town doctor marries the town nurse. For as long as you can remember, the quaint town of Myeongdong was shrouded with devotion and harmony among the people. Naturally, you hunger for love too. 

Which is why, one Christmas day, you wake up excited, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, decked out in your Christmas pajamas, on stealthy feet hoping to catch Santa putting the presents in your gigantic stockings at least this time. Instead, you are greeted by the sight of your father kissing your mother. Disgust should have made you crawl back, hoping to burn that image to the ground, but that day at five years old, you crave such love. A love where your parents are so disgustingly in love, that they failed to notice the kerosene in Eomma’s hand steadily pouring out from the bottle, onto the fireplace furnace, and causing the flames to be bigger than they could be contained.

 But that’s a story for another day!

What matters is that, on that day, you made a firm oath: one day, you would find a love like theirs.  ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ II

“Close your eyes, no peeking, I better not see a - Hannie, stop peeking!” you shout, stomping your foot on the ground to drive your point across to your mischievous best friend. Your best friend just giggles, clearly not taking you seriously. Doesn’t he know this is super important?

“Y/N-iee” Jeonghan draws out the last vowel, completely tired of all your shenanigans by now. “Can we stop this already? I do not want to be a prince anymore.I wanna play tag”

"Just give me one second Jeonghan, it will be over after a second.”

“Alright, that’s one second.” “What! No, it isn’t. A second is over only when the grandfather clock dings. Appa said so”

“That’s an hour you silly goose. Your Appa lied to you” Jeonghan argues, sticking out his tongue. “Hey- Don’t call me silly!” you pout, crossing your arms.

“Alright, alright,” Seungcheol pipes up, ever the peacemaker, raising his hands. “We’re closing our eyes now, okay? No peeking, Hannie.” He gives Jeonghan a look, who rolls his eyes but obediently covers his face with his hands.

Appa’s were a sore topic ever since Hannie’s father woke up one day to buy granolas and never came back. Cheol had to maintain decorum within the cardboard box the three of you were currently sitting in, the one you got with the new refrigerator your parents bought recently. The two princes, Hannie and Cheol, fought for your hand in marriage. A story made completely up by you, dragging your poor best friends who wanted nothing to do with fairy tales and just wanted to play tag. Now they were forced into this game of having to close their eyes and get kissed by you? While you decide who your future husband will be? At five years old? Barnacles!

“What are we even doing?” Jeonghan mumbles under his breath. “I just wanna run around”

“This is important!” you huff, hands on your hips. “How else am I supposed to know who my future husband is?”

Seungcheol peeks through his fingers and grins. “Isn’t five a little too young to get married, Y/N-ie?”

“Nu-uh! My Eomma said people find love at all ages!” you insist. “And you two are princes in the castle!” You gesture dramatically at the castle. It’s now a castle, complete with crayon scribbles and stickers to prove it.

“But we’re not princes!” Jeonghan groans. “I just wanna play tag!”

“You’ll play tag later!” you declare with all the authority a five-year-old can muster. “First, you have to close your eyes so I can choose who to kiss!”

“Y/N-ie I have a better idea” Hannie calls out, never one to be a slave to all your demands, unlike Cheol, your best friend who complied with everything you said.

“Why don’t you close your eyes, and whoever kisses you becomes your true love?”

‘Yeah okay.” you agreed simply. And there you sat, promptly closed eyes, eagerly waiting for the one kiss that seals your future husband.

You feel it, the slight brush, the aggressive push, the faint smell of Kool-Aid hitting your nose, all at once. It happened within a matter of milliseconds. And before you could so much as think, it was all over. You opened your eyes promptly, not heeding the instruction to wait a bit, and there you see it at five. Clear as the sun. Yoon Jeonghan, your first kiss right in front of you. 

You have it in your heart that you will marry him one day. 

♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥

Tragedy strikes on the day you find out that Yoon Jeonghan is leaving this town with his mother and baby sister. “But you can’t leave! We have to marry each other.” This was an emergency meeting held at Cheol’s house, in the dining room, your coven for emergencies for the “Triple Devils’, a name dubbed on you three by his hyung.

“I have to go Y/N. Eomma said it's best for us if we leave this town and start in in Daegu. She said there is a fountain of chocolate milk there and I have to see that. When I come back to marry you, I will take you there Y/N.”

And so you and Cheol bid farewell to Jeonghan, waving until the last trace of his hand was completely out of sight. As soon as he was gone, your tender heart shattered, and you sobbed in the arms of Choi Seungcheol. Your ‘true love’ had left, and all you could do was mourn the loss, comforted only by Cheol. He stood there, holding you as close as his little arms could manage, gently stroking your back and cooing soothing words, trying to calm you down.

At the tender age of five, you had your first kiss, found love, and experienced heartbreak, and your comrade-in-arms was none other than Choi Seungcheol. ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ III

You were bigger (not by Dad’s standards) and wiser (not by the big red letters on your test papers). You were going to come through and find love. At eight, you had a strategy-invite the whole class. If you had a plan to entice Kwan Daniel and get him to notice you and put an end to your restless heart around him, then that’s between you and God. If your parents agreed to your wishes, although begrudgingly, to have a giant bounce house on top of a five-layered cake, then that’s none of your business too. 

So there you sat in a pristine Chanel dress—a gift from Halmeoni herself, your quirky grandmother from the town up north—poised and ready for the onslaught of guests who would soon flood this rented venue. Today, you would propose to Kwan Daniel.

The clock struck three; the clock struck four, the sun slowly lost its yellow vigor, casting an orange hue, reminding you quietly that the day was soon to set.

And when all the minutes unraveled into dusk, when the grandest birthday party your town had ever seen was reduced to scattered decorations, an untouched cake, and silence,save for the murmurs of your worried parents; you came to a gut-wrenching realization.

No one was coming.

Ignoring your parents’ concerned looks of pity, you upturn the table you were slumped against and dive headlong into the arms of Choi Seungcheol,the only other friend who had attended the party, who once again looks a little unprepared for the way you tackle him in a hug. He now has longer arms and wraps them around you, squeezing your back and soothing the agonizing wails erupting from your throat.

Heartbroken at eight years old.

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IV

There is a hierarchy that is followed in middle school- one that consists of you sitting and dining with the ‘classic weirdo’ from middle school’ Lee Hyungwon.

Kids at school avoided him, choosing to run away if he dared to make an appearance or come close to talking to him. He was a loner, but a loner that enjoyed his own presence. He didn’t mind the hushed whispers, the open disdain on his face, his tattered clothes, his rat’s nest hair, or the stinky smell that came from near him. He had no problem eating blue cheese, the odor of which will unfortunately be ingrained in your brain forever. But you, you needed him. On days like this, only he could save you. “Dude I told you Julian can be nasty about things like this,” he says, plucking the banana peel from your head.

Lee Julian, Hyungwon’s stepbrother, and the school bully, had thrown you into the trash once again. It seemed like fate had it out for you. You’d read enough Wattpad to know how this worked. ‘The boys who bully you are secretly the ones who love you,’ you had declared confidently to Hyungwon, who was still fussing over the odd pieces of dirt stuck to your clothes.

“Here”, he reaches into his cargo pants, the bulgy pocket deflating at the retrieval of an expensive bottle of cologne.

“Hyungwon, why do you have an expensive bottle of cologne in your pocket, but you never use it?”

“The same way you have the option to call Seungcheol to stop Lee Julian  from bullying  but you never do it anyway.” He deadpans.

He’s got a point there.

At the start of middle school, you and Seungcheol agreed that this time, at least, you’d separate and make new friends. You were tired of being stuck together, suffocated by the assumption that you two were a couple. You wanted more—more friends, and secretly, you wanted to find love. With Cheol always by your side, that would never happen. Everyone thought you two were a thing, and honestly, that was disgusting to you.

Except, you didn’t consider how unpopular you would be in middle school and how popular Cheol would be. While you resided at the bottom of the middle school food chain, he reigned supreme in school- a local celebrity in his own rights.

Cheol knew about the last time Julian dumped you into the trash. You heard this when the news of Cheol’s parents meeting their principal over the infamous incident of Julian being hung on the door by a wedgie spread like wildfire. But you had threatened Cheol, insisting he leave Julian alone. ‘It’s all in the name of love. He’ll come around and see me one day,’ you told him, ignoring your best friend’s accusations that you were ‘crazy’.

As Cheol's best friend, you didn’t want more attention to yourself. You were fine with the fame you would eventually get, being Julien’s girlfriend and all that. This way you get a head start on the marriage plans you have in sight. You need to ask Julien about where he wants to have his honeymoon. Your Halmeoni has told you that Bali is best enjoyed during winter.

It didn’t look like this new setup was any difficult on Cheol, who seemed to do just fine with his new clique. On the days that Hyungwon skipped school, Cheol would come in and sit next to you, hating the sight of you lonely when you were scarfing down your cheeseburger. ‘Cheol go away. I will be fine.”

“Shut up Y/N”

Well, you can’t always be the boss.

But then Cheol’s visits to the lunch table dwindled with the arrival of a girl latched onto his arm- Saerom Burner, his new girlfriend. An absolute doll face, and an absolute bitch to you. For no reason at all.

♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ “Y/N, why is the necklace Halmeoni gave you broken?” Your mother stood in the doorway of your room, completely ignoring your warnings of ‘knock before you enter’ privacy. She held a string of beads in her hand, looking at you with concern.

Well, oops. You hadn’t meant for your mom to find out just yet.

Your mom had better things to worry about right now, though, especially seeing your hasty attempts to rub away the tear stains on your face. She quickly wrapped you in a tight hug, her movements careful not to wrinkle her perfectly ironed outfit. No questions asked, she just pulled you in close.

“Sh-she’s just so mean,” you managed to stutter out, still wiping at your face.

“Who is, little chica?”

“S-Saerom B-Burner.”

“Burner? You mean Jieun’s daughter, Saerom Burner?”

You nodded quietly, watching your mom carefully. Her immediate questions made it seem like she already knew something.

“Do you know her mom?” You were sitting up now, hands on your knees, eager to hear any tidbit of information your mom might have about this situation. Your parents were never shy about gossiping about the townsfolk in front of you—although they tended to forget you were just fourteen and probably didn’t need to know the ins and outs of every drama in Myeongdong.

“You know your dad is a handsome stud don’t you?” Your mom gave a little smirk. Your dad was balding faster than a speeding bullet, but back in the day, he was a heartthrob. At least according to the proof in the many prom king photos that lined the mantelpiece, all of which your dad loved to reminisce over.

“Well, back then, your father and Jieun Burner were the couple of this town—Prom King and Queen, the perfect pair. That was until I moved here. Your dad fell for me, and we became the new hot couple. But the town never forgot. They gave your dad—and mostly me—hell for messing up their perfect little plan. They called me the city witch who bewitched your father. I learned to live as an outsider, hated by a town that’s supposed to be so warm and welcoming. Your dad always told me to ignore their stares, but it was easy for him to say. If it wasn’t for him, I probably would’ve left. Jieun still hasn’t let go of that grudge against me.”

Your mom’s voice faltered, as though this memory still stung after all these years.

“I think she might have—”

“Wait a minute!” You interrupted, your eyes lighting up as everything suddenly clicked. You shot up from your spot on the bed, excitement bubbling in your chest. “So, Appa dated Jieun Burner?”

Your mom hesitated, then sighed. “Yes. And before the town could convince your Appa to marry Jieun, I was already pregnant with you. They didn’t have a choice but to marry us.”

“Wait, you were pregnant with me? Was I—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence!” Your mom’s voice was stern, though there was a soft edge to it. “You’ll always be our darling child. Always.”

You quickly held up your hands in mock surrender. “No, Ma, I’m not upset. I just want to know.”

She swallowed, clearly uncomfortable but eventually confirmed what you’d pieced together.

“So, that’s why Saerom Burner is mad at me!” Your glee was so obvious it might’ve been a little disturbing for your mom to watch, but you couldn’t help yourself. “She’s not mad at me. She’s mad at you! The whole town probably thought you and Appa cheated on her mom, but I was born before that. Your marriage was kept a secret so no one knew! I have to tell Saerom about this. Oh, Ma, this makes so much sense now! I must tell Saerom about this. I must ma”

You bounced on your feet, practically bursting with excitement.

“No, you foolish child,” your mom called after you, her voice heavy with concern. “You don’t understand how malicious Jieun can be when she wants to be.”

But your mother’s warning fell on deaf ears as you dashed into your closet, grabbed your camouflage jacket to match your new mismatched ensemble, and rushed out the door to the café where you knew Cheol was meeting Saerom Burner.

Your mother sighed, crossing her heart as she sat down on your unmade bed. “Bless that silly child’s heart,” she muttered to herself, hoping you wouldn’t stir up too much trouble.

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“Saerom” you shriek out. You had run a mile a minute, wanting to clear up all the confusion you could before it got any further. Running in the cold with no ear muffs had knocked some sense into you. You had to clear everything up before this misunderstanding spiraled any further. You could feel the sharp sting of realization hit you as you ran, remembering how Saerom had gotten the whole class to skip your birthday party back in elementary school. Now it made sense—her mom must have poisoned her against you, and you were determined to fix it.

“Y/N, what are you doing here,?’ Cheol looks concerned, navigating the perimeter of the cafe shop, rushing to you and immediately placing his warm palms on your cheeks. You look flushed, with the exertion you placed on your body and the cold biting at your skin. 

His touch was bringing some warmth, giving you that momentary relief from the cold that had seeped into your bones. You closed your eyes for a brief second, savoring the warmth of his hands against your flushed skin. 

Oh right, you were here for a different purpose. “Saerom!” You called out again, more urgently this time. Saerom was sitting at a table with her friends, and as soon as she spotted you, the look of disdain that crossed her face was unmistakable. You figured you’d interrupted some sort of date, but when you scanned the table, you realized there were three of her friends with her.

Weird idea for a date, you mused, before shaking your head. This was no time for distractions.

“Saerom, my mom was married to Appa before I was pregnant. Appa didn’t cheat on your mom- “Y/N where the hell are you going with this? Cheol had placed his full palm around your wrist, locking you in before you took any more steps toward Saerom, who looked baffled at the information coming out of your mouth. You shrug his hand away, ignoring the tight grip he had, and continue to further your advances, not reading the room despite all that education Cheol has bestowed on you.

“Saerom,” you continued, undeterred. “Your mom must have told you that my parents—”

Saerom Burner, thoroughly and utterly disgusted by your strange propositions and your ungraceful manner at which you whirred into the room with so much less of a courteous gesture to enter the room, sent you one last disgusted look before leaving the scene, hand in hand with her two best friends side by side.

Cheol’s palm landed more firmly around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. “Y/N, let’s go. Come with me.”

“No wait I-:”

“I said, let’s go.” The tone in his voice left no room for argument, not that you had any, this was the first time Cheol had ever raised his voice at you, he was always the calm soul to play along with all your whims and goofs.

And just like that, your one chance to reconcile with Saerom Burner or anyone at all in high school, was gone. Freshman year had barely started, and you’d already managed to make a complete mess of it.

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V

Not to be dismayed, you reminded yourself that this was your senior year of high school—the final stretch. The year when everything should come together, even if it didn't always feel like it was. You could sense the eagerness of your teachers, waiting for you to finally graduate and leave school behind. If only they knew how much you were dreading that moment.

School has never been your strong suit. Academia was hard for you—English grammar confused you, math made your brain ache, and you could never quite remember formulae. You scraped by with summer school to make up for what you couldn’t grasp during the regular school year, with Cheol always by your side, patiently guiding you through the labyrinth of equations and essays.

Unlike the teachers who shook their heads and called you ‘too slow’ , Cheol was a pretty patient teacher. He took his time before every test day, to come home and help you prepare for the quizzes, otherwise you were sure to fail.

This was your final year in school, if you can’t find love you must at least find something you are good at.

So you try hard.

You try your hand at running for student president but with terrible grades such as yours, you have no option but to give up in the first leg. You were not the sharpest tool in the shed, and that was alright by your parent's standards. As long as you were ‘trying your best’, which again, you weren't. 

Then, you tried volleyball. But it wasn’t your sport. Instead of passing the ball, you kept instinctively catching it in your hands—totally not the point. You tried soccer next, but an unfortunate incident where you accidentally tripped Haewon during a game ended your hopes there. The glee club seemed like the perfect fit until the music teacher begged you not to sing. And dance? Well, you got kicked out after a week, not from lack of enthusiasm, but from knocking into people and causing chaos during every practice. You might’ve been bad at sports and singing and dancing, but you weren’t one to give up.

There was one thing you were sure of, though: art. You may not have been the best at academics or extracurriculars, but you had a knack for art. When you picked up a pencil or paintbrush, everything else faded away. Your creativity was your escape, and even if it wasn’t something that made you the most popular kid in school, it was something that grounded you.

But beyond your art, your greatest strength was your spirit. No matter how many times you failed, you always got back up, even if it was awkward and clumsy. Your resilience was something no one could take away from you, and you were grateful for it. Little did you know, someone else was incredibly proud of your determination too.

Choi Seungcheol, the captain of the football team, has never been prouder than when his biggest cheerleader shows up decked out in clown clothes, mismatched socks, and a megaphone hanging around their neck, carrying the biggest banners ever seen at a school soccer game—his most dedicated trooper- you.

Everyone is confused as to how Cheol and you are best friends, the logic always seemed puzzling,

♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥

“Did you see the way he smiled at me?”

“No, but I saw a grimace in your direction.” “Cheollie! He was totally smiling at me. Okay, let’s do this scene by scene. When I asked him out for the Prom dance, he said yes. He’s too shy; he’s not going to tell me directly! You have to read it from his face! There was genuine excitement on his face.Real excitement, Cheol!”

“Y/N, the only expression I saw on his face was relief. When you left. “

“What are you a mind reader these days?”

“Not so much a mind reader as someone who listens with their ears and can recognize contempt when it’s practically blaring from someone’s eyes.

“Okay, you are very cranky today. What’s wrong? Are you gassy? I know we all need to let a - “Y/N, I am begging you, do not finish that sentence, I am trying to eat these twisters!”

“Cheol, these are bad for you! It’s going to cause you more issues than what you-” “I am leaving Y/N.”

“Wait, no! Don’t leave me alone here.” 

“Y/N, this is a girl's locker room. You texted me our safeword, and I ran here expecting the worst. Not to fangirl over your delusions.”

“They are not delusions, Cheollie. He’s just playing hard to get. It’s obvious!”

“Y/N, I am leaving, I am late for practice. Coach Johnson is going to make me do extra laps today. I’d love to stay and chat but I have to leave right now.”

‘Wait, before you leave.”

‘Y/N, you better have a bloody good reason as to why you are holding me back.”

“Just unhook my bra. This new one has too many hooks, and I can’t reach back to get them all. I hurt my hand Cheollie.”

“Y/N, are you for real? Just ask some girl love”

You look down at the ground, a deep flush on your face. “Oh no, I don't like that face! Y/N what did you do?”

‘Look, it was a mistake, alright? “

“Uh Huh. I believe you. Out with it”

“Coach had us pick partners again. As usual, I was the last one picked. I got paired with Saerom, and she was not happy about it. You know how she is.”

“Wait, how did you get paired with Saerom? No offense, but after last time? I didn’t think she’d be caught dead near you.”

“You’d think that, right? Yeah well, she came late. I saw her giving head to Cameron by the bleachers, it seems to me she lost track of time.”

“Y/N, you can’t just say that out aloud.” Cheol was sputtering, embarrassed at your uncouth mouth, blabbering shit for no reason at all. “Yeah well, by the time she came, I was on the bench, and she got paired up with me. We had to do stretches together, and you know my body is not that flexible. I accidentally kicked her right in the eye, she screamed bloody murder, Coach had to call off practice because now Saerom Burner has a black eye. And they are all mad at me and no one wants to talk to me. So will you please unhook my bra? “That is a lot of information to take in one go! But also not surprised coming from your mouth. Turn around. Let me help you”

“Yes, but close your eyes, please, I don’t want you to be the first man to see my boobs. It’s sacred peaks for my first time.”

“I am going to pretend you did not just say that.”

“Can you close your eyes, please Cheollie?” “Y/N, realistically, how can I help you with my eyes closed.”

“You have a girlfriend, don’t you? Aren’t you supposed to be educated enough to do all this blindly?”

“Correction, I have an ex. An ex that seems to hate you very much by now. And no, I did not practice the art of unhooking bras with zero vision. Now will you please turn around? You are landing me in hot waters”

“Fine, but don’t be turned on by seeing my naked back, I can’t give you a ‘Saerom special.’”

“Y/N, please. Stop talking. For the love of all that is good in this world, stop talking.”

“Fine. Wait, you did it! You genius! Now, can you scratch my shoulder too? The straps are driving me crazy.”

For the sake of his sanity, Cheol does as commanded, unperturbed by your weird demands. “I knew it! Knew Cheol was cheating on me with this chick. I feel so sick!” You hear a sickly voice call out and a small part of you is frightened at the shrillness of it. 

“Saerom what are you-”

“Save it Cheol. All you men bleed the same blood, chasing behind any living thing with legs”

“Saerom, wai-” you begin. And before you can so much as explain, Saerom struts out of the locker room, looking a little silly with that weird patch in her eye.

“Please don’t go behind her.” Cheol has a tight hold against your hip, preventing you from running behind her and ruining things again. 

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You knew this wasn’t your fault, but that didn’t stop you from feeling the weight of Saerom’s hatred. She’d forever be mad at you, probably for swooping in and stealing her boyfriend, or for somehow being the reason they broke up, although that happened well before she saw him unhook your bra. Cheol had refused to give you any explanation then , insisting it was "none of your business" despite your constant nagging.

“It really is none of your business, Aegi,” your mother had sharply chided when you tried to pry information from Cheol’s mother. So, you let it go.

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Maybe Byun Michael had openly rejected you, turning down your invitation to prom without hesitation. No worries. You still had time to ask someone else. You figured they were just too shy to ask you first anyway.

Inspired by To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, you had a plan.

Up in the treehouse, you worked diligently, letters neatly stacked, paperweights keeping them from flying away.

“What are you doing up here?”

You shrieked, nearly toppling over in your rush to cover the evidence.

“Cheol! You’re not supposed to be here.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by your flimsy excuse. “Last I checked, this is my treehouse too.”

You huffed, still trying to block his view. “How’d you even climb up here?”

“The same way you did. Up those rickety stairs.” He smirked. “Now, scoot. Let me see what you’re being so secretive about.”

Reluctantly, you moved aside, revealing a pile of carefully written letters, waiting to be tucked into envelopes and sent to every boy you had ever crushed on.

“Y/N, love… what is this?”

You stayed quiet, hoping your eyes could explain for you.

Cheol picked up a letter, flipping through it. His disbelief grew with every word.

“You wrote love letters? For what?”

“I wanted to send them to Jungwoo, Nick, and Max. Hoping they’d, you know… see my invitation and ask me to prom.”

He blinked. “So you… what, wrote two-page essays? Front and back?”

“Shit’s romantic,” you countered.

“Says who?”

“Lara Jean”

He let out a low hum, dripping with sarcasm. “Mhmm.”

You decided to ignore him.

“What are you doing, Cheol?”

He smirked, mischief sparking in his eyes. “You wouldn’t happen to know the combination to Nick’s locker, would you? Let me help you send this to him.”

“Cheol—”

“Now, move. I’ll be inserting this letter into the purple envelope titled ‘Nick, My Love.’”

You stared at your best friend in awe. He caught your silence and turned to stare right back.

“Quit drooling, perv. Get back to work.”

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“Hey there, sexy.”

You cringed at the sleazy voice slithering into your ear, too close for comfort.

“What do you want, JJ?” you muttered, rubbing your ears as if you could erase the sound of his voice.

“I heard you’re looking for a prom date,” he said, grinning. “Your letter to Jungwoo was found in the dumpster. Figures if he can’t take you, I can. There’s a price though”

Your stomach twisted. “And what, may I ask, is the price?”

His smirk deepened.

“Flash me.”

Your blood ran cold.

Without a word, you turned and walked away, disgusted and dejected. Now you knew exactly where your third letter had ended up, after the first two were sent back to you with rejection. 

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The eve of prom week, you stared longingly at the dress you had picked out at sixteen. This was supposed to be the night—the night you’d be wooed, twirled under sparkling lights, and dance until your feet ached. But with no date, the magic had faded.

You sighed, sinking deeper into your bed.

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“Psst. I know you can hear me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Good. Can you also see that I’ve been trying to ignore you?”

Jin, your annoyingly nosy neighbor—home from college for reasons unknown—leaned against your doorframe, arms crossed. “What are you doing here moping when you should be at prom?”

You stiffened. He must have noticed because his voice softened as he stepped closer, squeezing your shoulder lightly.

“Why are you even back? It’s not summer yet.”you complained at his sudden unwelcome appearance in your room. 

“Got kicked out.”

Your head snapped up. “You are a straight-A student.”

He gave you a humorless smile. “Well, this straight-A student is also very depressed and very nosy. So, tell me—why is my chatterbox neighbor, who wouldn’t shut up about prom, still in her pajamas when she should be having the night of her life? Making babies or something.”

You groaned. “That was disgusting.”

“Potato, patootie. Now, spill.”

You inhaled sharply before mumbling under your breath, “No one asked me out.”

Jin blinked. “Seriously, speak a little softer, the ghost of Myeongdong shivered at the timber of your voice. ”, he states sarcastically.

“No one asked me out for prom,” you repeated, louder this time.

“So what? Since when do you wait for other people to ask you?”

“Yeah, well… the ones I asked rejected me.”

Jin let out a low whistle. “Even Seungcheol? Now that’s a shocker.”

“I didn’t ask Cheol,” you admitted, avoiding his gaze. “He already has a date.”

Silence. Then—“Wait. You’re telling me 'The Seungcheol' asked someone else out before asking you?”

"Why does your tone sound like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like a pipsqueak?"

"Is this your way of trying to avoid the subject? By hurling knives at me? This poor soul who became an outcast? Is someone a little mad their diaper buddy has a date and they don't?"

“No, that’s not—” You fidget, hoping to dodge whatever conclusion he was about to reach.

Jin wasn’t having it. “Unbelievable. Alright, how about this—I’ll take you.”

You blinked. “What?”

“One condition.” He pointed a finger at you. “You go out and have fun. If no one dances with you, you dance by yourself. But you’re going to have a good time. You won’t get another night like this.”

You stared at him, squinting hard, trying to detect a trap. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch. Just some good ol’ friendly behavior.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Liar. Jin never does favors for free. You have an ulterior motive.” Then, a thought struck you. “Oh my God—you're hoping to see your ex, aren’t you? Miss Ronalds?”

Jin immediately turned pink.

“I KNEW IT! I got played again by a conniving little—”

“Hey, hey, no need to throw hands. Let’s all calm down.”

“Calm down? You literally used me as a ploy to get back with your ex! How do you stoop that low?”

Jin scratched the back of his head. “Okay, in hindsight, this looks bad—”

“It is bad!”

“But,” he interjected, “hear me out. I will drive you to prom. I will escort you to the dance floor. I will sit there the whole night like a damn chaperone. No advances toward Maggie. None at all. Cross my heart.”

You folded your arms. “I don’t believe you.”

“Look, I—see?”

And then, in one swoop, he pulled off his hoodie.

You shrieked, covering your eyes. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“Relax, drama queen. I just took my hoodie off. No one is going to dance with me wearing just this.” He smirked, showing you his baby pink tee. “Here’s a deal—I take you to prom, and you treat me to a seafood boil tomorrow. There’s this new place I’ve been eyeing, but my parents cut me off for dropping out of uni.”

You gawked. “So you ask a high schooler? Wow.”

“Correction—a loaded high schooler.” He grinned. “Besides, a deal is a deal.”

You sighed. “You are insufferable.”

“And yet, here you are, about to go get dressed.”

He’s got you there.

"Also Y/N?"

"What now?"

"You are paying for gas."

You couldn’t believe it. Your eternal pursuit of love, on a night that was supposed to be magical, was now reduced to paying your annoying neighbor gas money just so he could talk to your art teacher—who just so happened to be his ex.

So much for that bucket list.

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So maybe you don’t get asked out for Prom, but that’s okay. You’re still here, you show up and that’s all that matters for now. 

Or things could go a little differently. 

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You hadn’t seen Cheol all night, but true to his word, Jin remained on his best behavior. No sneaking off to find his ex, no sleazy antics,just snapping embarrassing pictures of you mid-bite while you stuffed your face with appetizers.

Halfway through a fast song, a hurried “There you are!” breaks through the noise.

You barely have time to turn before you’re met with the sight of a breathless Seungcheol, his hands gripping your shoulders as if you were seconds from vanishing into thin air.

“Where were you?!” he demands, shaking you slightly as if the answer will fall out of you.

You scoff. “Where was I? Where were you? I’ve been looking for you for the past hour!”

“I was at your house! Trying to pick you up for prom!”

You blink. “Why were you trying to pick me up? Don’t you have a date? Where’s Yunjin?”

Cheol shrugs, unbothered. “I canceled on her.”

Your jaw drops. “You what?”

“She’s going out with JJ anyway.”

Your horror intensifies. “And you let that happen?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “He wooed her with those movie lines copied from your letter.”

You gasp. “What?! And you didn’t tell her that??!”

“It's not my fault she fell for it.” He shrugs again. “Besides, why does it matter? We get to be each other’s date now.”

Before you can protest, he grabs your wrist, pulling you onto the dance floor—cracker still half-eaten in your mouth. You barely register the moment before the upbeat track fades, replaced by the slow, familiar melody of All of Me.

Uh-oh.

“This is awkward,” you state, chewing hastily.

Cheol tilts his head, a pout forming. “Why is it awkward?”

“Because, stupid, how can I slow dance with you? You’re my best friend. Best friends don’t slow dance together.”

He rolls his eyes. “Throw your stubborn beliefs out the window and just dance.”

Before you can react, his hands find your waist, pulling you in close. Then—without any warning—he dips you.

You gasp, clutching onto him for dear life, heart racing.

“Where did you learn to dance like that?!” you ask breathlessly, still in shock.

A smirk tugs at his lips, a dimple appearing. “You’re not the only one who attempted a dance major.”

You narrow your eyes before reaching up and poking his dimple.

Cheol laughs, swaying with you gently. “I got kicked out, though.” You supply. 

He snorts. “I can tell. Also… can you tell I stuffed cotton in my shoes?”

You blink. “Wait. That’s the soft, pudgy thing I’ve been stepping on?”

“Yes. And thank God for that.”

This time, when he dips you again, your hands instinctively go around his neck. You’re still a little scared but fully reassured that he won’t let you fall. As if to reward you for your full trust, he leans a little and pecks your forehead.

“What was that for?” 

Cheol shrugs, his grip on your waist steady as he sways you both to the rhythm. "Felt like it," he says simply, a teasing glint in his eye.

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VI

Two semesters into college, you called your parents to inform them that you were quitting. There was no way you could make it through another day, not with the constant stress pressing down on you. Every class felt like a foreign language, and no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t grasp the material as effortlessly as everyone else seemed to. It was exhausting, frustrating, and, worst of all, demoralizing.

To compensate for your sudden lack of education, you threw yourself into the workforce, picking up not one but two daytime jobs.

Your first attempt was at a front desk at a restaurant,‘Meogeulle’ but that didn’t last long. Your tendency to chat up customers and “waste company time,” as your boss put it, quickly earned you a demotion. Instead of greeting guests with a bright smile, you were sent to the back, where your words wouldn’t slow down business.

And so, you became a dishwasher.

But if your boss thought exile to the kitchen would dull your spirit, he was sorely mistaken. You became the jolliest dishwasher ‘Meogeulle’ had ever seen. You hummed through every shift, cheerfully tackling the greasiest plates, and scrubbed even the dirtiest surfaces with the enthusiasm of someone discovering hidden treasure. Your energy was infectious, and before long, the entire kitchen staff had grown fond of you.

Old Ralph, the head chef, took a particular liking to you. He often snuck you free meals, much to your delight—and Cheol’s. The two of you practically survived on those meals, stretching your modest incomes to cover rent in a far-too-luxurious apartment complex that neither of you had any business affording.

Looking back, maybe telling your parents that you could fend for yourself hadn’t been your brightest idea. But somehow, you made it work. The dimes you earned, the laughter shared over steaming bowls of ramen topped with every extra ingredient you could get your hands on—it was enough. More than enough.

You were happy. Content with your life and your job.

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VII

“Cheollie, be honest. Does this make me look fat?”

“Oh no, babe. You look fantastic as always!”

“Cheol, you haven’t even looked up for one second. How can you tell?”

He sighs. “Y/N, this is the fifth dress you’ve tried on. How different can this one really be?”

“What if I’m naked?”

“Then you’re naked.”

“Arrgh! You are so frustrating, Cheol!”

Finally, he shuts his laptop with an exaggerated sigh and looks up at you. “Fine. Hit me. Show me what you got. Parade around. Let’s make you the princess of the evening, okay?”

This was your seventh date in two months. Ever since your discovery of Tinder, you had been speed-running through men like it was a game.

So maybe you didn’t have the best track record with relationships—or dates in general—but your Halmeoni always told you to try men of every flavor.

“The one,” she’d say, “is either right around the corner or has been under your nose all this time.”

Cheol watches with an amused grin as you do a slow spin in front of the mirror, arms crossed. “Well?” you demand, hands on your hips.

He tilts his head, pretending to think it over. “I think,”

You hold your breath.

“I think you look like someone who’s about to make another poor life decision.”

You gasp and throw a pillow at him. “Cheol!”

He cackles, dodging with ease. “What? Am I wrong?”

“You don’t know that!” You huff, turning back to the mirror. “This one’s different.”

Cheol raises an eyebrow. “You said that about the guy who tried to split the bill when he invited you to dinner.”

You glare at him through the reflection. “It’s called equality, Cheol.”

He snorts. “It’s called being broke.”

You roll your eyes but bite back a smile. “Whatever. I’m going, and you’re going to hype me up properly before I leave.”

He sighs dramatically before pushing himself off the bed. “Fine.”

He opens your chaotic wardrobe and starts fine-tuning it with the precision of someone who knows exactly what they’re doing. After a few moments of rummaging, his hand stops on a sundress—something he’d picked out for you last summer when you decided to take an impromptu vacation.

“Aha!”

Stepping behind you, he rests his chin on your shoulder, placing the floral dress over your current outfit, meeting your gaze in the mirror. “You look stunning.”

You blink. His tone is… sincere.

Before you can say anything, he flicks your forehead. “Now go, little Casanova. Go ruin another man’s life.”

Laughing, you shove him away. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” he calls after you as you rush into the washroom to run and change.

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Cheol sinks onto the bed with a sigh, tossing aside his laptop, ready to mourn the night away. He knows fully well that no studying is going to happen tonight—not after he gave you the blessing to go on this date and even picked out a dress for you.

Every time you go on a date, a little part of his heart sinks, hoping that just once, you’d turn around and see him, instead of all the men you were speed dating.

“What do they have that I don’t, Y/N? Why won’t you just look at me?”The thought lingers as he watches your peaceful face. When all he’s met with is the quiet sound of your snores, he runs a gentle hand over your face, brushing the baby bangs from your eyes. It’s then that he realizes—he’s talking to a sleeping form, rambling out his feelings after long hours at the library. He must be losing it.

But just as his woeful flashback drags him deeper into his stupor, he feels the sting of a powerful flick to his forehead.

“Ow,” he winces, clutching his forehead and pouting at you. You’re standing there,dressed in the outfit he picked out back in a record two minutes. “Why are you lookin at me like that?”

You don’t say anything, just fluttering your eyelashes and dramatically kneeling on the floor, clasping your arms together as though begging.

He jumps up in alarm. “No. What are you doing? Get up. Why are you on the floor? Get back up.”

With surprising strength, he pulls you up, not liking the image of you kneeling before him. “Stop looking at me like that, tell me what you want” he mutters, his voice a little unsteady, nerves prickling.

“Please, Cheol. Take me to McDonald’s.”

“What? Your date is supposed to take you there, Y/N.”

“I know, but he’s new to the city, and he doesn’t have a car yet. Please, Cheol, just this one time. I’ll owe you.”

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And so, there sits Cheol in the car, at the parking lot of Mcdonald's, his hand tapping uncontrollably against the steering wheel as his thoughts race. 

He’s usually a lot better at controlling his urges around you whenever you are consumed by your current hookup. But tonight, seeing you in a dress he gifted you, in a hairstyle he likes best on you, on a day that marks significant importance to him, he has the all-consuming urge to just get out of the car, pull you close, and keep you with him all for himself.

Joshua, his best friend from uni, had grown tired of hearing him constantly name-drop you. So, in a rare moment of frustration, Joshua had begged him—in fact , offered him money—to ask you out.

“She doesn’t like me like that,” Cheol had protested.

“And whose problem is that? Look, from what little I know about her, she sounds daft-.”

“Hey, careful there,” Cheol had growled.

Joshua didn’t back down. “See? Right there. You’re this possessive over a girl you say is just your best friend. She’s not going to know how you feel until you tell her, Cheol.”

Cheol shifted uncomfortably. “I can’t, Shua. You should see the way she looks at couples—always moping about her lack of a boyfriend. Yet, she never sees me.” He could feel his voice cracking as the weight of his emotions surged. He was close to tears, overwhelmed by everything that had been building up.

“Hey, don ’t cry, alright? She’ll come around,” Joshua had said, trying to console him. “Why don’t you just ask her? The worst she can say is no. Maybe try being open about your feelings, don’t beat around the bush. Lay it out for her, plain and simple.”

“Alright, I will,” Cheol had said, determination settling over him.

This was a conversation he had three months back. If Joshua saw him now, he would not be proud. But here he was, still sitting in the car, the weight of Joshua’s words fresh in his mind. He knew he had to do something—something bold, something decisive. But the nerves, the fear of rejection, they still had him frozen.

And now, watching you through the windshield as you make your way toward the restaurant , a small part of him wonders if it’s already too late.

Xxxxxxxxxx

‘Couprang” 

His world froze seeing the safeword text from you. All it took him was five seconds before he was out of the car and rushing into the restaurant trying to locate you.  Unimaginable red blinds his vision when you were crying softly, trying to reduce your tears to your napkin. 

“Y/N-ie?”

When he sees you look at him with your red rimmed eyes, he ignores all the questions in his mind and flies to bring you close to him, letting you cry once again on his shoulder.

Your date was a lucky man that Cheol didn't know his name. 

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VIII

Maybe your last failed date with a man who physically harassed you at McDonald's—because you refused to put out on the first date—had slowed your interest in dating for a while. Something about the constant chasing love, the rush, and the way everything kept slipping through your fingers every time you thought you’d finally attained it, had worn you out. Maybe friends were all you needed right now. Thank God for Cheol, your best friend, who was lying on your lap, his head resting there as you sleeplessly drifted away, drowning in the white noise of Singles Inferno.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“You got a minute?”

“Me? I’ve always got a minute. You’re the one busy with college.”

Cheol sighed deeply. “How I wish I had a trust fund that could promise me a lifetime of staying away from calculus. Every day, I hate myself a little more for thinking I could do this.”

“You can do this, Cheollie. You’re so smart. I believe in you.” You give him a soft smile, your fingers gently brushing through his hair. “Besides, you're always welcome to take me up on my offer to stay with me whenever you need a break. Bet my future kids would love to have you as their uncle.”

When you’re met with silence, you glance down at him, wondering if he’d fallen asleep. He hadn’t. Instead, he was staring intently at the leg of the sofa, his face lost in thought.

“Cheollie?” you prod again.

“Hmmm?”

“What were you going to tell me again?”

“Oh. Never mind. It can wait another day.”

“Fine by me,” you reply, settling back into the couch, feeling the weight of the quiet moment between you both.

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After the phone call with your grandma, you had your slow revelation moment.

“Where’s grandpa?” you asked, worry seeping into your voice.

“He’s just driven to the pharmacy to get my medications for this month,” grandma answered, the usual warmth in her tone.

“But I thought the doctor said he needed bed rest for at least another month, with his back injury?” you pressed, concern growing inside you.

“Hush, child,” she chuckled softly. “You know how the old man is. He doesn’t trust anyone else to get my medicine. He believes it’s his right as my husband. No matter how much I scold him, he insists he’ll be in and out in no time.”

The image of your elderly grandfather, frail from his injuries but still determined to fulfill a task so simple, so mundane in your eyes, made something inside you freeze. There was something incredibly beautiful about his unwavering devotion to your halmeoni—a love that had lasted decades, built on shared memories and routine, something he couldn’t entrust to anyone else, even in his weakened state.

That thought made you stop, your mind quieting as you sat there, blankly staring at the wall in front of you, long after the call ended. The longing in your chest grew, and the ache of wanting to find that kind of love—the kind that would last a lifetime—began to blossom. Your eyes drifted to the opened  drawer, where you caught sight of a small, old journal buried among other forgotten things. The little lock that once felt so important was still intact, and the key was nestled on your charm bracelet. With trembling hands, you unlocked the journal and flipped it open. The pages were yellowed with age, but your handwriting—clumsy and childish—was still legible. The words on the first page were familiar, words you hadn’t thought about in years.

"To Yn-ie from the future, I am so curious to find out who he is, your lover. Is he as funny and charming, and does he steal your breath away like we had imagined? Does he know your insecurity over being called dumb? Does he know your fear of being quizzed on the spot? Does he scold you for eating too much candy but sneak in your favorite Twizzlers? Does he entertain your idea of ten children and settling on a farm with Beth the cow and Rony the moose? Does he pick you up and carry you around the house, the way we secretly hoped? Does he sneak up on you and kiss you dizzy, ignoring the world around you? Is he making you smile? Oh, I am so curious, but I know you’ll be okay, because you have your lover by your side. Give him a kiss from little me."

You stopped reading, the block in your throat getting heavier by the second until you found yourself unable to swallow at all. The slow sinking feeling that maybe you’d die alone, with regrets on your mind, terrified you. Before you could calm yourself down, the tears began to cascade, streaming down your face as you bawled uncontrollably.

Cheol found you in the closet after a frantic five-minute search around the apartment, tears drying on your puffed-up cheeks. Quietly, without a single question, he placed you against his chest and rubbed your back, soothing your sadness away, rocking you side to side.

“I just don’t understand, Coupsie,” you whispered, calling him by the nickname you used as a child, “It’s so silly, it’s childish, I know.” You paused, a sharp breath catching in your throat. “I just want to feel butterflies, want to feel wanted, needed, in a way that’s not linked by blood. In a way someone other than the people who have to want me back. I am a good person, Coupsie, all I—” Your voice breaks, cutting your words short, but his steady back rubs comfort you, urging you to continue.“All I need is to just have someone for me. Someone to be my person. To love me. Someone like Mom has Dad, and you have Iseul. Someone for me, worthy of love." 

You look up at him, an see earnest doe eyes looking back at you, closed with sadness perhaps the echoing the one you have etched in your face.You are happy for Iseul, his new fling that gets to have a boyfriend who loves so passionately that he cares for everyone around him. 

“Right. Iseul.” He finally repeats after a shared minute of silence. 

“Is everything alright?” His voice was shaky, like he is hiding something from you.

“Nothing, everything is perfect!”

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IX

As the months passed, your once burning desire to get married slowly dwindled. The weight of adulthood was becoming heavier, and the pressure to figure things out seemed to increase by the day. You made the decision to find another job, anything to ease the growing strain. But somewhere between job hunting and adjusting to the grind, over a simple stroll to get a hot dog, you got distracted by a street musician. His saxophone echoed through the air, pulling a crowd around him. The way the notes flowed effortlessly from the instrument, the smooth cadence of his playing—it was mesmerizing and one odd conversation later, you found yourself becoming a street artist. 

To Choi Seungcheol's chagrin, of course.

He had warned you countless times about befriending strangers, especially the ones with shady jobs.

“Don’t be so snooty, Cheol,” you’d said when he expressed disapproval.

“I’m not being snooty! Haven’t your parents taught you anything about stranger danger?”

“Relax, Cheol. Not everyone catches the virus!” You waved your hand dismissively. “Besides, Brenda offered me a way to kill time during the long hours you spend at the library. I get to draw people’s faces, something I love doing, and no one’s going to file charges against me for staring long enough. Plus, the better I get at it, the higher the tips.”

“Aha. And why is it that I’ve never seen you bring any cash back here?”

You said nothing, your gaze fixed on the floor.

“Exactly. Stop letting people misuse your kindness, Y/N. Don’t let that be your weakness.”

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“Will you please stop twitching?” “You’re taking too long!” Mingyu whines from across your sketchpad. One more movement, and you're tempted to throw the entire paper at his face. You have no patience for a model who can’t sit still for more than five minutes.

“Are you done, Noona?”

“Mingyu, I haven’t even properly started because you keep moving too much and ruining the angle I have set in place. I am a sketch artist not a magician!”

“Fine,” he drawls. “But make sure you get my good side.”

“Mingyu, I promise I will. If you could just—” You stand up with great discomfort, your body stiff from sitting in the same position for too long, and walk over to him. You tie his arms together, fixing him in place. “There, sit like that for some time now.”

For the better part of an hour, you sketch his features, including the smile lines on his face and the creases by his eyes. Some men were crafted so beautifully, it almost made you jealous.

A small break to stretch your neck and shoulders has you catching sight of him again. You can’t miss it, his telltale knowing smirk—one that could lure you in and lead you into his deceptive ways, even if it was just child’s play. His hair, black and magnificent, was now trimmed short since the last time you saw him—over two decades ago. It had been too long, yet you couldn’t escape his mischievous glinting eyes that screamed at you: it was indeed Yoon Jeonghan himself.

Ignoring all common sense about traffic ingrained on you by Cheollie, you dive headfirst into the crowd, weaving through a thick mass of busybodies. It’s difficult to navigate, but you follow his luscious hair like a beacon.

“Jeonghan! Jeonghan!” you scream.

The man turns around. Without warning, he’s suddenly caught in an armful of a woman he’s never seen in his life—someone clinging to him, screaming, “Happy to see you again!”

“Who the hell are you?” He shoves you away from him, a valid reaction considering the situation. What person wouldn’t be confused at such an abrupt embrace?

You ignore all societal cues, clutching tightly to his arm and jumping up and down with excitement. In one firm grip, he pulls you along, and you gasp at the tightness of his hold as he leads you into a nearby bar, dim and quiet in the midday. His beady eyes flicker with irritation, narrowing as he glances at you.

"Lady," he says, voice strained, "I am one second away from calling the cops if you don’t—

“Hannie, it’s me! Y/N-ie, I am from Myeongdong, you me and Cheollie were best friends, remember?

Somewhere, a flicker of recognition started to show in his eyes, and you could see the slow struggle as he tried to piece everything together.

“Y/N?” he asked, his voice tentative.

Excitement surged through you, and you couldn’t help but grin widely, your heart racing. “Yes! It’s me, Y/N-ie! From Myeongdong!

I’m sorry… I know I’m supposed to remember, but I… only remember bits and parts. The only thing I remember is the town and Daddu?” His words stung,knowing he remembered Cheol more than you but you tried to hide the hurt. You three were inseparable as kids, but even back then, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. Cheol and Hannie’s families hung out more than yours ever did. It took you time to understand why your parents were never included in those cookouts, and while you had come to terms with it, it still hurt to realize that Hannie seemed to remember Cheol—the one he called ‘Daddu’—more than you.

“Is Daddu around? Do you know where he is? Maybe I can get in touch with him?” He asked, hopeful.

Pushing the jealousy down, you nodded eagerly, eager to make him feel welcome. You grabbed his hand, guiding him out the door.

“Yes, yes, follow me. Daddu—I mean, Cheollie and I are roommates now. He’s probably home, unless he’s busy kissing Iseul, which… let me tell you, Hannie, I love them both to death, but watching them make out is, like, a very disgusting sight to see. I had to establish the red sock on the doorknob after the last time I caught them on the carpet Hannie. The carpet! Who does it on the carpet? "Like animals, they are going back to caveman times, I think . Well anyway like I—". You stop mid-sentence when he halts, suddenly still.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

Jeonghan is staring at you in horror, his eyes wide as he watches the woman who just jumped on him in the middle of a crowd, declaring herself his past best friend and promising to take him to see his old best friend. A woman who speaks a mile a minute. This is surely one of the craziest days he's ever had.

"Why is there a tall man running over to us screaming ‘Noona,’ and why is he looking at you?" he asks, another burning question clouding his mind.

You glance over and see Mingyu sprinting toward you with urgency, and without hesitation, you pull Jeonghan’s arm, directing him to ‘ignore him’. 

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Cheol is taken aback when he opens the door. Instead of your face, there's a very beautiful man standing next to you.

“Hi, I’m Cheol. You must be—?”

“Daddu?” Jeonghan interrupts, his voice almost a whisper.

“Hannie?” Cheol responds, his surprise evident.

Maybe you shed a tear, watching the joyful reunion between two best friends who embraced each other like they hadn't seen one another in ages—and, in truth, they hadn’t. But of course, you know it's Cheol's right to embrace any happiness he finds, and you can’t help but be pulled into the moment.

 He grabs the back of your neck and pulls you into the hug, sharing the warmth between you, Jeonghan, and him. For a moment, you feel Jeonghan stiffen, but just as quickly, he relaxes, his arm wrapping around you as he squeezes you tightly. A bit of your heart warms at the gesture.

"I can’t believe it! The Triple Devils have reunited! Where did you find him, Y/N?" Cheol exclaims, grinning from ear to ear.

Jeonghan gulps, looking at you, unsure if he should recount the chaos of his day with the crazy woman. Instead, his eyes wander around, and he notices—

“Is this the sock you show to signal sexiling?”

Cheol looks mortified, narrowing his eyes at you. “You can’t just spring that on people, Y/N!Also I just got off the phone with Mingyu.You definitely can’t walk out on Mingyu in the middle of drawing a subject. It's your job!”

“It’s a side job!” you defend, shrugging casually.

“Still, Y/N! And Mingyu is my cousin, I owe him this!”

“Wait, is M-Mingyu the tall man who came charging at us, yelling ‘Noona,’ and you grabbed my hand and told me to run? I was going to call the cops on him!”

“Y/N,” Cheol calls out, exasperated.

“I’m sorry! I’ll call him, apologize, and reschedule a meeting tomorrow.”

“Do it now, Y/N.”

“B-b-but—”

“No excuses. Now.”

“Fine!” you huff, grabbing the phone Cheol pulls out of your pocket. You opt to text Mingyu instead.

“No, call him. Put him on speaker. I need to ensure you’re not distracted.”

“I’m enjoying this,” says a third voice from the corner.

Both you and Cheol turn to look at the silent accomplice, who’s standing there with a smug grin on his face. If you had any doubts before, you can firmly conclude now that indeed —that’s Jeonghan.

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How you ended up on a double date with Cheol, Iseul, and Jeonghan still baffles you. Iseul had made reservations with her best friend and boyfriend, who canceled at the last minute, giving you the perfect opportunity to try the new spot. Cheol, ever the orchestrator, invited Jeonghan as your date. A part of you can’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, the universe is finally making things right. Perhaps Jeonghan’s return to your life isn’t just coincidence, but a reminder that the boy who once promised to be your husband and gave you your first kiss could one day come back into your life, not just as a memory, but as a lover in the present.

“I love your outfit, Y/N. Really brings out your eyes. Where did you get it from?” Iseul asks, placing a serving of pickled onions on Cheol’s plate.

“You do? Cheollie got it for me last Christmas. We have an ugly sweater competition every year, but last year, the doofus thought it’d be funny if he outsmarted me and got me this instead.”

“Remember when your mom scolded you for getting me that hideous jumper with the ‘dank memes’ slogan on it?” Cheol interjects, slapping his knee in the middle of a fit of laughter.

“You were always her favorite, and you knowingly took advantage of it.”

“Oh, yes, I did! Remember that time you broke the stairway to the treehouse and blamed it on me so you'd escape Eomma’s wrath?”

“And did she scold you?”

“No,” he says smugly.

As Cheol absentmindedly picks at his plate, you reach for the pickled onions he always complains about. "Oh, Cheollie," you tease, grinning as you scoop them off his plate and onto yours. “You know you hate these.”

“Show off! Hey, remember that time—?”

“Ready to order?” The waiter interrupts, and the sudden break in the banter catches you off guard.

Jeonghan watches with quiet amusement, faint memories sparking to life as he observes his childhood best friends laughing, reminiscing over their mischief. They’re so caught up in it that they forget Cheol’s date and you’re startled by the waiter’s interruption. For someone like you, who claims to want to find love, you sure are blind to the obvious kind.

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XI

Jeonghan’s breakup text arrives on a warm, sunny morning—when you least expect it. You’re in the middle of planning a trip to the florist, excited to pick out a bouquet of his favorite flowers, imagining the way his eyes would light up at the surprise.

The past few months had been nothing short of euphoric—nights spent poring over old photographs, watching as Jeonghan slowly reconnected with the life he had left behind in Myeongdong before adulthood burdened him with responsibilities: caring for his mother, his sister. One month of dating later you had asked him to be your boyfriend, something he had gladly accepted. 

And with Cheol talking about finally moving out, you had begun to picture a future with Jeonghan in your apartment. A future where he wasn’t just your boyfriend but your home. The next step in your fairytale.

Then, without warning, the fairytale shatters.

A cold, detached message: "I am breaking up with you."

No explanation. No foreshadowing. No emojis. Nothing.

Your hands tremble. The glass of milk slips from your fingers, hitting the floor with a sharp, deafening crash—shards scattering like the pieces of your heart.

The noise jolts Cheol and Iseul awake. They rush out of his room, still groggy, eyes wide with panic, scanning the space for an intruder, a break-in—anything but what it actually is.

"Are you okay?" Cheol is at your side in an instant, gripping your arms, searching your face for answers.

But you can’t move. Can’t speak. You just stand there, frozen, the weight of those four words crushing the breath out of you.

"Y/N," Cheol tries again, shaking you gently.

Then, softer—"Baby," Iseul calls out. Cheol turns at the sound of her voice, and that's when he sees it.

Your phone, still opened to the text messages, in her hands, the screen aglow with the message that just ended everything.

Five seconds. That’s all it takes before Cheol bolts for the door, barefoot, jacket forgotten, fists clenched, his voice a low growl as he mutters, "I’m going to kill him."

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Enraged, visions of red cloud Cheol’s periphery. He pays no heed to speed limits, no caution to the laws he’s about to break. None of it matters. Yoon Jeonghan is a dead man standing.

It almost feels like Jeonghan was expecting him—because the moment Cheol rings the bell, the door swings open.

There he is.

Draped in a silky bathrobe, coffee cup in hand, not a single trace of guilt on his face.

"Ah, Cheol," Jeonghan drawls, taking a slow sip. "Looks like you came to thank me."

"You better have an explanation for this," Cheol grits out, fists shaking, "or I swear to God, Jeonghan, you will—"

Jeonghan’s breakup text arrives on a warm, sunny morning—when you least expect it. You’re in the middle of planning a trip to the florist, excited to pick out a bouquet of his favorite flowers, imagining the way his eyes would light up at the surprise.

The past few months had been nothing short of euphoric—nights spent poring over old photographs, watching as Jeonghan slowly reconnected with the life he had left behind in Myeongdong before adulthood burdened him with responsibilities: caring for his mother, his sister.

And with Cheol talking about finally moving out, you had begun to picture a future with Jeonghan in your apartment. A future where he wasn’t just your boyfriend but your home. The next step in your fairytale.

Then, without warning, the fairytale shatters.

A cold, detached message: "I am breaking up with you."

No explanation. No foreshadowing. No emojis. Nothing.

Your hands tremble. The glass of milk slips from your fingers, hitting the floor with a sharp, deafening crash—shards scattering like the pieces of your heart.

The noise jolts Cheol and Iseul awake. They rush out of his room, still groggy, eyes wide with panic, scanning the space for an intruder, a break-in—anything but what it actually is.

"Are you okay?" Cheol is at your side in an instant, gripping your arms, searching your face for answers.

But you can’t move. Can’t speak. You just stand there, frozen, the weight of those four words crushing the breath out of you.

"Y/N," Cheol tries again, shaking you gently.

Then, softer—"Baby," Iseul calls out. Cheol turns at the sound of her voice, and that's when he sees it.

Your phone, still opened to the text messages, in her hands, the screen aglow with the message that just ended everything.

Five seconds. That’s all it takes before Cheol bolts for the door, barefoot, jacket forgotten, fists clenched, his voice a low growl as he mutters, "I’m going to kill him."

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Fury coursed through Cheol, his vision tinged with red as his anger flared. He pays no heed to speed limits, no caution to the laws he’s about to break. None of it matters. Yoon Jeonghan is a dead man standing.

It almost feels like Jeonghan was expecting him—because the moment Cheol rings the bell, the door swings open.

There he is.

Draped in a silky bathrobe, coffee cup in hand, not a single trace of guilt on his face.

"Ah, Cheol," Jeonghan drawls, taking a slow sip. "Looks like you came to thank me."

"You better have an explanation for this," Cheol grits out, fists shaking, "or I swear to God, Jeonghan, you will—"

"You will what?" Jeonghan interrupts smoothly. "Kill me? For breaking up with your girl?"

"She is not my—she’s—"

"Maybe not yet," Jeonghan smirks. "But we’ve all seen it, Daddu."

Cheol’s jaw clenches. His hands curl into fists at his sides.

"I don’t like that stupid smile on your face," he finally whispers, voice low, dangerous. "Take it off."

Jeonghan chuckles, tilting his head. "Seems like you’ve finally calmed down. Want to come in?"

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“Cheol, does she know?” Jeonghan asks, looking at him with knowing eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cheol replies, trying to brush it off.

“You know,” Jeonghan smirks, “you don’t make a good liar. Neither you nor Y/N. You’re too prim and proper to lie about the small things. Maybe you can fool Y/N for decades, but not me. I see right through you.”

Cheol sighs, not meeting his gaze. “I’m not sure what to do.”

“You’re in love with Y/N,” Jeonghan continues. “It’s time to come clean. Stop holding back. Just tell her.”

Cheol shakes his head. “It’s not easy, Hannie.”

“It is,” Jeonghan insists. “It’s very easy, Daddu. This is Y/N, your best friend. There’s no malice in her. She’ll either say yes or no—that’s her call. But for the most part? She’s in love with you too. She just doesn’t know it yet. You have to be the one to break it to her.”

Cheol stumbles over his words. “I-I—”

Jeonghan cuts him off. “You know, Daddu, being in love with one girl and leading another one on? You’re breaking three hearts—yours, Y/N’s, and Iseul’s.”

“Iseul?”

“Yes. Your girlfriend. The one whose name you haven’t said once since you’ve been here. But you didn’t avoid Y/N’s name.”

Cheol freezes, his mind racing. "Iseul. I forgot she has an interview scheduled today at 9, and I have to drop her off—"

“Well, if you leave now, like actually fly down the elevator, you might have a shot. Go,” Jeonghan says, a slight grin on his face.

Cheol doesn’t waste another second, dashing off in a panic, muttering apologies under his breath, as if he were the one wronged in the situation.

Jeonghan watches him go, shaking his head. “The lovesick idiot,” he mutters to himself, amused by the chaos.

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You were stuck working the big pots tonight.

Meoguelle had a big party pull up to the restaurant, which meant twice the usual number of dishes to wash. So there you sat, hair tied up, sweat lining your forehead, a small trickle of tears mixing with the steam rising from the sink. Your hands were elbow-deep in a greasy, murky mixture—just the perfect way to end the night after your breakup fiasco.

"L/N F/N, is that you?"

Truthfully, you weren’t in the mood to socialize. Not with a stranger, not with a friend—no one. But after the fifth attempt at scrubbing stubborn gunk off a caked-up pot, you figured now was as good a time as any for a break.

You turned toward the voice, your brain scrambling to put a name to that oh-so-familiar face.

"Jun? Wen Junhui? Is that you?"

"In the flesh and blood," he said proudly, confirmed.

“It’s good to see you! What are you doing here?"

"I came to pay my compliments to the chef, which I’m assuming is—"

"Oh, no, that’s him out by the back door, filling his lungs with smoke. I’m just a mere dishwasher."

Jun blinked. "Oh. Is that why you’re c-crying?"

You let out a small, bitter laugh. "Huh? Oh. No. I, uh— I got dumped."

Jun’s brows furrowed. "Oh. I’m so sorry to hear that. But honestly, I’m also really surprised. I never thought Se—Seungcheol would be the type to dump someone over text. Aren’t you two closer than that?"

"Seungcheol?" You frowned. "What? No. He’s my best friend. My roommate. We never dated. Why would you assume that Cheol was my boyfriend? I could never date him—"

"Could’ve fooled me."

You stared at him. "What?"

"Huh? What did I say?" Jun repeated, scratching the back of his neck, eyes darting around guiltily, looking for anything—anything—to distract himself from this suddenly very awkward conversation.

"Look, I gotta scoot," he rushed out. "Please pass on my compliments to the chef. And Y/N? Talk to Cheol."

Your eyes narrowed. "Jun—"

"I know you were mad at me when I bailed on our date, but I also thought I was just a rebound for—"

"A rebound? Jun, you were the only guy I was seeing at that time."

He winced. "I’m sorry, Y/N. I thought I was doing you a favor."

"What favor?" You scoffed. "Texting me for nights in a row only to bail out on a date?"

Jun’s eyes widened slightly. Then he took a step back. Then another. "Shit’s escalated so far. I gotta go—keep in touch?"

And before you could respond, he jogged out of the kitchen the same way he came in—leaving you behind, confused in more ways than one

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Your conversation with Cheol about your weird encounter with Jun goes in a different direction than you had honestly anticipated.

"I saw Jun at the restaurant today."

"Who's Jun?" Cheol calls out from the couch, eyes glued to a rerun of Single’s Inferno while you blend ingredients for dinner.

"Wen Junhui. The guy Shua introduced me to?"

Cheol perks up slightly. "Oh, the anime-looking hottie?"

You roll your eyes, walking over to the couch with both dinner plates in hand. "Yes, that one. When I told him my boyfriend broke up with me, he assumed it was you. How weird is that?"

There’s a brief pause.

"Why is that weird?"

You glance at him. His hand is clenched tightly around the remote, knuckles paling. Like he has something to explain.

"You and me," he continues casually. "You’re a girl. I’m a boy. A very handsome boy, might I add." He throws in a cheeky grin, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

You scoff. "But Cheol, we’re best friends. We can’t date."

"Why not?" His response is immediate, almost defensive. The sharpness in his tone irks you.

"What are you even saying right now, Coupsie?" You frown. "I can never tell what’s going on in that head of yours. And you’re acting weird."

He exhales sharply. "Oh, good. So you’re not totally dumb after all."

Your blood runs cold."...What did you just say to me?"

Cheol's face falls. His panic is instant. "Y/N—shit—no. No, I didn’t mean that, I—please, don’t be mad, love." He rushes toward you as you push off the couch, hand covering your mouth in disbelief. "I was just— I don’t even know why I said that— Y/N,I am sorry  please, just look at me."

But you don’t.

You turn on your heel, marching straight to your room, fully intending to hole yourself in there for the rest of the night.

"No, no—" His grip catches your wrist just before you can slam the door. Before you know it, he’s pulling you back out, standing in the threshold of your room, looking like a man pleading for salvation.

"Please," he whispers, hands cradling your face, thumbs brushing away the tears threatening to spill. "Please, love, just listen to me. If you want to shut me out after, I won’t stop you. But please. Just hear me out."

You exhale shakily. "Fine. But one condition."

"Anything," he answers without hesitation.

"You need to tell me what went down at Jeonghan’s." Your voice is firm now. "Ever since you ran out of here that morning, you’ve been avoiding me. And don’t give me some crap excuse about being busy. I know your schedule by heart, Cheol. You have nothing coming up that’s remotely important."

Adam's apple bobs as he swallows hard.

Slowly, his hands shift, thumbs gliding up to smooth your furrowed brows. The back of his fingers ghost over your cheeks, his touch light, tracing over your features like he’s memorizing them.You don’t move away. His gaze locks onto yours, wide and searching his fingers running over. Your eyes. Your nose. Your lips.

"Ch-Cheol, what are you—"

"Shh." His breath is warm as he leans closer, lips parting, barely a sliver of space between you.

Your heart hammers against your ribs.

And then—The doorbell rings.

Both of you jolt back, like the universe itself just yanked you out of whatever that moment was.

For a beat, neither of you speak. Your breathing is uneven, adrenaline rushing through you like you’ve just run a marathon.

Cheol is the first to break the silence. He looks down, almost ashamed. "It’s Iseul," he mutters. "She’s crashing here for the night."

 Iseul. His girlfriend.

"Right," you echo weakly, stepping back into your room and shutting the door behind you.

You lean against it, exhaling slowly, trying to steady your racing heart.

Even as you hear Cheol’s footsteps retreating, hear the front door opening, hear his soft voice greeting Iseul—you don’t move.

Instead, you replay the last few seconds over and over in your head.

Grateful the doorbell rang when it did.

Or were you grateful?

Weird.

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You never talk about that day.

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Two weeks after the almost kiss—Cheol moves out.

“We both knew we were delaying this,” he says, rolling his suitcase toward the door. “I got a new apartment closer to work. I’ll save on transportation.”

His voice is light, casual. But there’s something else beneath it. Something heavier.

“Besides,” he adds with a small smirk, “you can finally have that guest bedroom all to yourself. You know, in case you feel noble and want to take in another one of your homeless buddies for the night.”

It’s a weak joke. His dimple is in place, flashing his usual pearly whites, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“See you, love,” he says.

And as always, he steps forward to give you a forehead kiss—just like he’s done a thousand times before. A simple, familiar gesture.

But this time, you flinch.

Like his presence is suddenly too much.

“Oh.”

His voice is quiet. Almost hurt.

He hesitates, then pinches your cheek lightly—just for a second—before turning away and walking out of the apartment.

“Don’t be a stranger love”

And just like that, he’s gone.

And you—standing in the middle of your now too-big apartment, in a too-cold city—are left with nothing but the hollow ache in your chest.

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It’s been three months since the incident.

Three months since you last saw him.

Time has given you some clarity. Some distance. But on days like today—when the loneliness creeps in, when the silence in your apartment feels deafening—you sit and wonder.

What once was.

What could have been.And whether or not you made the right choice at all. To ignore what happened that night before and keep living it didn’t just happen. 

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“Noona?”

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me! Mingyu, why are you here? Don’t you have a girlfriend to nail down?”

“First of all, hurtful. I don’t have a girlfriend. Secondly, I came here to thank you, Noona.”

“For what? I didn’t do anything.”

“Yes, you did,” he insists, huffing with a stubborn pout. “Your sketches are the reason I got to add something to my portfolio. The ones you drew of me, all the photos you took—you helped me put together a solid submission for ‘Hayfer’ magazine. It meant a lot.”

“You’re welcome, Gyu,” you say, shaking your head. “But again, like I said, it’s literally your face that did all the work. You wouldn’t have gotten this far if you didn’t go around looking the way you do.”

“Are you saying I’m handsome? Is this Noona’s way of flirting with me? I can’t believe it,” he teases with a charming smile.

“Stop fishing for compliments. Don’t push your luck, loverboy.”

“Once again, to clarify—I am bitchless.” He places a hand on his chest in mock sincerity before grinning. “However, if you’re down to—”

A year ago, you’d have gasped in disbelief that a tall, dashing man with a heart-stopping smile would be openly flirting with you—more so, inviting you on a date. You probably would have jumped at the first opportunity, said yes, and sealed the deal. Maybe even called your grandparents and let all six of your cousins know.

But you’ve grown.

The childishness hasn’t completely dissipated, but a part of you knows that to a man like Mingyu, you’d be just another passing fling. So you shake your head, slowly, ignoring the flicker of disappointment in his eyes.

Guys like him will always have a second chance.

Not with you, though.

“That’s okay,” he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I kinda knew you’d say no. Just wanted to dip my toes in.” Then, as if remembering something, he fishes out a card from his wallet and hands it to you. “Here—this is for you.”

“What is this, Gyu?” you ask, flipping the card between your fingers, reading the name printed on it.

Xu Minghao.

It rings a bell.

“Who is this? If this is another attempt to set me up with someone, I swear to God, Mingyu—”

“Relax,” he interrupts, laughing. “I would never set you up with someone else. I know who you belong with.”

Your stomach twists in questioning knots. Before you can respond, he continues.

“This is my friend from uni, Hao. He’s opening a new gallery downtown, and he wants to showcase underrated classics—graffiti artists, doodlers, glorified vandalizers apparently. He saw your sketches of me and was impressed. He asked if I could pass his number to you so he could call and discuss featuring your art in his gallery.”

Your heart stutters.

Xu Minghao.

Why does that name sound so familiar?

Mingyu smirks. “You might know him as The8.”

“Shut up. No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did.” He looks all too pleased with himself.

“You’re telling me ‘The8’ saw my sketches and wants to showcase my artwork?”

Mingyu barely gets to nod before you launch yourself at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his broad frame. He chuckles but holds you just as firmly, his warmth grounding you in this unreal moment.

For so long, you’ve grasped at mediocrity, believing—like your teachers always warned—you’d never amount to anything. School and college have failed you. Your lack of focus, your inability to stay interested in one job for too long, had always made you feel like you were wilting.

You knew you were lucky. The money from your grandparents has secured your future. But beyond that? You had nothing.At least, that’s what you thought.But this—this moment, this opportunity—someone actually wants to see more of your art.

You.

And for the first time in your life, it feels like you’re winning at something. Like you’re not a total disaster. And in the midst of your overwhelming joy, your thoughts drift—back to Cheol.

For so long, his victories had felt like your own.

When he won class valedictorian, you were the first to scream his name in the crowd, your voice hoarse from cheering too loudly. When he made football team captain, you stayed up late helping him tape up his bruised ankles, lecturing him about overexertion while he only grinned, too proud to care. When he got accepted into his dream university, you decorated his house with fairy lights and posters, making it feel like home before he even unpacked his bags. And when his first girlfriend asked him out, you teased him relentlessly, calling him a blushing mess, even as you secretly watched from the sidelines, unsure why your heart twisted at the sight.

For every milestone, every achievement, every moment of happiness—you were there.

And now, finally, when the universe decides to deal you a good hand, when something extraordinary happens for you, you find yourself alone in your joy. There is no Cheol grinning beside you, no knowing glance exchanged between you both, no shared celebration where he lifts you off the ground in a tight hug and says, See, love? I always knew you were meant for more. The realization strikes you like a gut punch.

For so long, his triumphs had been yours, but now, yours don’t seem to be his.

And the thought sobers you much quicker than you would have imagined.

Before Mingyu walks away completely, you ask him the burning question that has been eating away at your brain. “Gyu?”

“Yes Noona?”

“What did you mean when you said you knew I was meant for someone else anyway?”

“I think it’s up to you to figure that out Noona” he says with a wink and a smirk and leaves. 

The questions in your heart don't settle down.

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You are frantic, beyond yourself with worry, and the urge to heave out your organs into a trash can grows stronger by the second. A phone call with Minghao had confirmed that the gallery opening was tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

Your mind spins. Were you supposed to create something in mere hours, something worthy enough to be displayed in a gallery? The only other paintings you had were hung up in your family house back home, and it would take hours to retrieve them—there was no way you’d make it in time. The stress manifests physically, your nails bitten down to the quick, your pinky finger bleeding as an unfortunate casualty of your nerves.

Your phone buzzes in your trembling hands.

Cheol: Congrats, Y/N. Look inside the study room.

Your breath catches in your throat. You stare at the text, reading and re-reading it as if the words might rearrange themselves into something different if you blink enough times. What does he mean? Did Mingyu tell him about the gallery? It makes sense—they were cousins, after all, and Mingyu had always been terrible at keeping secrets.

But if Cheol knew, then… why hadn’t he called? Why hadn’t he come?

The thought makes your stomach twist. Was he still so awkward about that almost kiss that he decided to forgo two decades’ worth of friendship and reduce his congratulations to a text message? Was that really all you amounted to in his life?

You feel hurt. Disappointed. But also—relieved.

Relieved, because a tiny part of you has no idea how to face Choi Seungcheol after three months of radio silence. Your ex-best friend.

Shoving those thoughts aside, you take a deep breath and make your way to the study room.

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You are frantic, beyond yourself with worry, and the urge to heave out your organs into a trash can grows stronger by the second. A phone call with Minghao had confirmed that the gallery opening was tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

Your mind spins. Were you supposed to create something in mere hours, something worthy enough to be displayed in a gallery? The only other paintings you had were hung up in your family house back home, and it would take hours to retrieve them—there was no way you’d make it in time. The stress manifests physically, your nails bitten down to the quick, your pinky finger bleeding as an unfortunate casualty of your nerves.

Your phone buzzes in your trembling hands.

Cheol: Congrats, Y/N. Look inside the study room.

Your breath catches in your throat. You stare at the text, reading and re-reading it as if the words might rearrange themselves into something different if you blink enough times. What does he mean? Did Mingyu tell him about the gallery? It makes sense—they were cousins, after all, and Mingyu had always been terrible at keeping secrets.

But if Cheol knew, then… why hadn’t he called? Why hadn’t he come?

The thought makes your stomach twist. Was he still so awkward about that almost kiss that he decided to forgo two decades’ worth of friendship and reduce his congratulations to a text message? Was that really all you amounted to in his life?

You feel hurt. Disappointed. But also—relieved.

Relieved, because a tiny part of you has no idea how to face Choi Seungcheol after three months of radio silence. Your ex-best friend.

Shoving those thoughts aside, you take a deep breath and make your way to the study room.

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The study room had always been Cheol’s sanctuary.

On nights before exams, when he wasn’t holed up in the library, this was where he spent his time—books open, highlighters scattered, and an energy drink within reach. And since you were practically allergic to textbooks and anything resembling academic effort, you never once bothered to step foot inside. Apparently, he knew that.

Because when you finally open the door, stepping inside for the first time since he left, you are shocked at what you find.

The room is covered—inch to inch—in your artwork. Your heart lurches violently in your chest.

Every doodle, every absentminded scribble, every torn-out sketch that you had long forgotten was here. Pinned up on the walls, carefully arranged, like a private gallery curated for no one but himself. Your hands shake as you step forward. Some of these sketches were from years ago—random doodles of cartoons, silly little portraits of him, even rough, messy charcoal attempts at landscapes you had made out of boredom. You had discarded them without a second thought, but he had kept them all. Your throat tightens.

Then, your eyes land on the lone easel in the center of the room.

It’s covered by a large cloth, dust collecting on the edges. Something about it makes your pulse quicken, a thrumming sense of anticipation running through your veins. With trembling fingers, you grip the cloth and pull.

And your heart stops beating.

There, pinned on a massive canvas, are twenty-three years worth of tradition.

When Cheol turned six, he had demanded something special for his birthday—something unique, something made with your own two hands, your custom gift for him. 

You had been stumped then.

For days, you had scoured the house, pestered your parents for ideas, and even sulked on the couch in frustration. Eventually, you had stared so long at the framed wedding portrait above the fireplace that inspiration had struck.

With unpracticed, wobbly hands, you had drawn a simple stick figure doodle—of you and Cheol. Two little figures, standing side by side, holding hands, smiling wide enough to split their faces.

Cheol had loved it. He had squealed, hugged you tight, and thanked you over and over again, clutching the tiny drawing like it was the greatest treasure in the world.

And from that moment on, a tradition had begun.

Every year, on his birthday, you drew a new one.

At first, they remained simple, just stick figures with slightly better proportions. Then, slowly, they evolved—features becoming clearer, the lines steadier, expressions more detailed.

By the time you turned eighteen, they weren’t just doodles anymore. They were art.

And now, staring at the canvas before you, you realize—He never lost a single one.

All twenty-three drawings, pinned carefully in chronological order. Each crease, each faded line, each awkwardly drawn hand—it was all there.

Your breath comes in short, sharp gasps.All your life, you had thought of yourself as forgettable. A mediocre student. A directionless dreamer. A girl who hopped from one hobby to another, unsure if she’d ever be good at something.

Yet, here was proof that he had never once forgotten you.

Every drawing, no matter how childish or ridiculous, was a testament to the fact that Choi Seungcheol had cherished every piece of you. Your heart aches.

Is that why he had warned you never to touch this room? Had he planned to show you this someday? Had he sent Mingyu to deliver the gallery invitation because he knew you would come here and find this? But if that was true, then why wasn’t he here now?

Why wasn’t he here to help you carry this canvas—to celebrate with you, to tell you he was proud of you? Why was he gone?

A sob catches in your throat as you reach out, fingers tracing the lines of your own childhood artwork. The weight of twenty-three years presses down on your shoulders, heavy and bittersweet. As if sensing the despair you were feeling, you hear a doorbell ring and your heart leaps with joy. Maybe he had come after all. 

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He hadn’t. Mingyu had sent Soonyoung and Jihoon, apparently, to pick up your artwork and drive it to the gallery for tomorrow. Serves you right for getting your hopes up after all.

“Where’s Cheol?” you finally ask, just as they’re about to bid their farewells at the threshold. You knew they all knew each other, being friends from university days. All these boys had hounded your shared apartment at night for drinking sessions back in the day.

“Oh, haven’t you heard—Che—”

“Soonyoung!” Jihoon warns, cutting him off before Soonyoung can continue. Soonyoung now looks guilty for almost blurting it out.

“No, what happened? What don’t I know? There’s something you’re not telling me, and I want in.” You sound frantic, anxiety bubbling in your chest.

“Relax, Y/N. Cheol’s alright. Mingyu sent us to pick this up and drop it off. Don’t shoot the messenger, okay? Now, if you don’t need us for anything else, we’re going to take our leave.” Jihoon gives you a quick, reassuring smile. “And Y/N? Congratulations.” He tips his head at you, then waves goodbye, leaving with Soonyoung.

But Soon still wears that guilty look, and your nerves start to spike.

You try calling him, texting him, but to no avail. Finally, you send a text to Mingyu, who assures you that Cheol is sleeping after a football match. You know it’s a lie, but it’s probably the best you’ll get. Cheol clearly doesn’t want you to know something, and he’s put up boundaries, and all you can do is respect that. Maybe he has a new girlfriend. Maybe he’s hiding that from you.

Whatever it is, you know the days of being his top priority are long gone. All you can do now is get ready for tomorrow. You’ve got a long day ahead, and no one—not even Cheol—can take that away from you.

♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥

“So, you must be L/N Y/N, the one I’ve heard so much about,” Xu Minghao says, his voice smooth and confident. You try not to gasp at the sight of him, standing before you in the flesh. He’s dressed immaculately, a well-tailored suit hugging his frame perfectly, a tie adding a touch of refinement to his coat. His dark hair is styled just right, and his eyes—sharp, calculating, yet inviting—scan you carefully.

You inhale a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. You hadn’t been prepared for how to interact with a man so stunning, let alone one you’ve admired from afar. It seems he understands the sudden shift in your demeanor, offering you a small, reassuring smile to let you gather your thoughts. In the past, you would’ve slapped your hand to your forehead at your sudden shyness, but with him, it feels different—something about his presence seems to elicit butterflies in your stomach. You nod slowly, trying to regain composure.

“Ah, well then, shall we?” He gestures to the canvas paper, where a new cloth is draped over it. It’s just two hours away from the gallery’s opening, a small exhibit showcasing the works of budding artists—people like you, who’ve never had the opportunity to display their artwork to the public. It might not be a grand affair, but it means everything to you.

He steps forward, his eyes scanning each of the drawings. They’re neatly arranged, pinned chronologically, and you notice the way his eyes soften as he takes them in. "This is all your doing?" he asks, genuinely impressed.

“Well, yes and no," you respond, a little shy. "I drew these, but um… I did it for my bes–" You cut yourself off, correcting your words. "For a friend," you finish. "Apparently, he collected all of them and had them stored up like this. I had no idea until yesterday."

Minghao’s eyes widen as he examines your work. "Well, he should. Look at the detailing on some of this. I can’t believe you’ve never been to art school. Look at the precision with which you drew his eyes. He must be a stunner, this 'friend' of yours." He wags his finger in disbelief, and you can tell he’s not convinced that the situation is as simple as it seems.

“What did you do on your 16th birthday?” he asks, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studies you.

“How can you tell that?” you ask, confused, but your eyes instinctively flicker to Cheol, who’s standing a little further off. He does look a bit annoyed, his brow furrowed at you, but you can't quite remember why. Maybe you’d finished his favorite juice or something.

“Wait, are these pinned?” Minghao asks, bending down to get a closer look.

“Yeah, they are. I told you, my friend had all these pinned to a canvas.”

"Hmm." Minghao hums thoughtfully. “So, does that mean—” Before you can ask him what he means, he pulls the pin from one of the drawings, the second-to-last sketch you’d done of him. He takes the paper in his hands, examining it carefully.

“Oh, what’s this?” You stand on your tiptoes, trying to get a better look at what’s written behind the sketch. You hadn’t even realized there was anything written on the back—your contribution had only been the drawings, not the words.

You recognize those scribbles anywhere: the familiar curves of his handwriting.

“Age 26. The year I cried the hardest when you went on that date with Jeonghan. The night I crossed out your name from my heart when I realized you would never look at me like that.”

Your heart stops in your chest. What? You blink rapidly, disoriented, as the words on the back of the picture send a sharp, unsettling ripple through your thoughts

Urgently, you tug down another picture, your hands trembling as you uncover another heart-wrenching note, written in the same familiar handwriting.

“My 19th birthday. As per my demand, you drew this picture based on the photo we both took together at the beach. When you laid your head on mine, my heart stopped still, Y/N. Don’t know if you could tell that over your loud snores, but I sat still for all six minutes, scared that if I moved for one second, the moment would burst.”

The words feel like a punch to your chest, and before you can even process what you’ve just read, your eyes begin to sting, your breath faltering as tears stream silently down your face. You reach to unpin yet another drawing, your hands shaking from the weight of it all.

“Year 9. The year I dared to hope. We both sat in the garden, planning our future lives, our kids, and our dogs and cats. You asked me why I didn’t name my future wife when you had decided Bogum would be your future husband. I was too scared to show you that I left that blank open to fill it with your name.”

The realization hits like a wave, pulling you under with a force you can’t fight.For every year of his life with you, he had written down his feelings for you in that stage of life. How could you not have seen it? How could you have missed everything he was giving you, how he had loved you, from the very start?

Desperately, you unpin yet another drawing.

“Year 24. When you got bored and asked me if you could draw on me, I gave you my hands and pretended to fall asleep. But I couldn’t. My thudding heart would not let me rest because the feel of your hands on my skin, drawing on me, grazing my hands, made me yearn. For you.”

A sob catches in your throat, and you clutch the drawing to your chest as if it can somehow absorb all the emotions you’re trying to hold inside. But the dam is breaking. The weight of his unspoken love, of everything you never saw, is crashing over you like an unstoppable force.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you whisper hoarsely, your voice cracking with a mixture of pain and longing. You look to Minghao, who stands quietly beside you, watching you with deep concern etched into his features. “I—I need to go. I need to see him. I need to tell him…”

You trail off, your mind spinning, your heart thrumming with the urgency of it all. How had you been so blind? How could you have let all of this slip through your fingers for so long?

Minghao’s gaze softens, his expression serious, but his voice is gentle when he speaks. “You have my word. But before you leave, tell me, Y/N, what would you title this?”

You blink, still reeling, but the question lingers in your mind. What could you even call this? This painful, beautiful mess of emotions, tangled, raw truth that had been hiding in front of you all this time You take one final, steadying breath as you turn to the artwork, your gaze falling on the scattered drawings before you.

And then it comes to you—the answer so simple, yet so profoundly fitting for everything you’ve just uncovered.

You meet Minghao’s eyes, your voice quiet but steady.

“The Pursuit of Love.” 

It’s perfect. A pursuit that has no end, a love that’s been waiting for you all along.”

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“Pick up, pick up, pick up. Why isn’t he picking up?” you mutter to yourself, panic rising in your chest as you hold your phone, dialing Cheol’s number again. Your fingers are trembling. Your heart is hammering in your chest.

You had hailed a cab and rushed straight to Cheol’s apartment, but there was no sign of him. No one was home, and the door remained stubbornly closed. You tried calling both Cheol and Mingyu, but neither responded. Your worry started to morph into something much darker, and you knew something was wrong.

Without giving it a second thought, you dialed the one person who might know what’s going on—Jeonghan.

"Y/N?" His voice comes through the phone, calm but confused.

“Where is Cheol?” you ask, your voice breaking as sobs catch in your throat. The bad feeling you’d been fighting all morning is growing rapidly, an overwhelming sense of dread that something had happened to Cheol, something he was keeping from you, something his friends were also hiding from you.

"Y/N—" Jeonghan begins, his voice soft, almost like he’s trying to soothe you. But you're too far gone, too scared, and you can't bear to listen.

"Please, Jeonghan, just tell me the truth. You owe me that much." You can barely hold back the tears now, your voice shaking.

There’s a long pause on the other end before Jeonghan finally speaks, his voice filled with quiet concern. “Cheol’s at the hospital.”

You freeze, your heart stopping for a moment as the words sink in.

♡

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“Choi Seungcheol?”

“Room 317, ma’am. Down the corner and to the left—MISS, NO RUNNING IN THE HALLWAY!” The nurse’s warning falls on deaf ears as you rush past her, your heart pounding harder with every step.

You don't care about the rules right now. All you care about is seeing Cheol.

You turn the corner, practically flying down the hallway, your breath coming in short bursts as you approach the door. And then you see him.

Cheol, lying in the hospital bed, looking pale, with a slightly annoyed Mingyu sitting next to him. You come to a halt in the doorway, chest tight with the realization that he’s hurt.

“Y/N?” Cheol’s voice is hoarse, and his eyes widen in surprise as he sees you standing there, tears streaming down your face.

“Love, please don’t cry,” Cheol says, his voice soft and comforting. He lifts a hand, wincing slightly, but you’re already at his side, leaning over to wrap your arms around him, your sobs muffled against his hospital gown. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

You pull back just enough to look at him, your voice shaking with anger and relief. “Damn right, you’re sorry, Choi. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I knew you had your art gallery today,” he says, his voice apologetic. He gestures vaguely at his bandaged body. “Sorry I couldn’t come with my ruptured appendix and all.” He tries to make light of it, but his sheepish smile only makes your heart ache more. “But I wanted to be there for you so badly, Y/N. I’m really sorry.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head as tears still slip down your cheeks. “Don’t you dare apologize for a surgery you didn’t cause.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he smirks at you, and you can't help but smile despite yourself, the weight in your chest easing just a little.

You look at him again, really look at him—his tired eyes, the way his face looks a little drawn, the exhaustion evident in every line. He might be joking around, but you can see that he’s been through a lot.

“I’m okay. Don’t worry about me, Y/N,” he says, almost like he can read your mind. He’s always known how to ease your worries, even when it’s not about him.

“I will always worry about you, Cheol. Always.”

A beat of silence stretches between you both, the words hanging in the air like an unspoken promise. Then, you hear the door creak open and Mingyu’s voice drifting away as he leaves to give you both some privacy.

“Y/N—” Cheol starts, but you beat him to it.

“Cheol—” you both speak at the same time, then laugh awkwardly.

“Please let me? I’m the coward who didn’t have the guts to tell it to your face all these years, choosing instead to pour my heart out into bits of paper.”

“And I’m the dumb idiot who couldn’t see what was right in front of me all this time, choosing to chase other men, when all I had ever wanted was under my nose. I named the artwork, you know. ‘The Pursuit of Love.’” You blink, trying to steady yourself, trying to find the right words. “Aching for a love that was always right there, and all I had to do was just accept that. It’s you, Cheol. I—”

“I love you,” he blurts out quickly, cutting you off. He looks sheepish as soon as the words leave his mouth. “Sorry. I kinda had to say it before you did,” he says with a small, sheepish smile, dodging your playful hits on his uninjured shoulder.

“OW! Don’t hit the injured man!” He laughs, though it’s slightly strained.

“You are such a dork. And for the record, your shoulder seems fine. It can handle one or two beatings.”

There’s another awkward silence, one that feels comfortable despite the tension. You both sit there for a moment, not knowing quite how to move forward, but both knowing something has shifted.

“Come here?” He silently calls out, his voice softer now, almost pleading. He pats the space beside him on the bed, his eyes searching yours.

“I- I don’t want to hurt you,” you murmur, hesitant.

“Relax, you won’t. I should be good to go by tonight,” he lies, his voice trying to convince both you and himself. But you can tell that he’s not quite as okay as he wants you to think. Still, you slide down onto the edge of the bed, cautiously scooting closer until there’s a small space between you, enough to give him space .

Very slowly, you slide your hands up to his chest, travelling upward till you rest on his face. Curiously he leans a little forward, angling himself in a way that makes it easier for you to continue your ministrations across his body. His patience wears out after nearly ten seconds because he quickly cups your face and smashes his lips to your face, his naturally dominant self taking over, you gasping into his mouth with a sudden yelp. Urged on by your little mewls, his tongue takes over inhaling your every whimper and moan you were trying to speak out. All too soon,you give up, fully submitting to let him do whatever he wants with you, as he devours you wholly, in ways that make your brain turn into mush.

His hands descend down onto your fisted palms, that were clutching on the bed sheet, slowly unlocking them from their tight grip and instead slowly rubbing your knuckles in gradual touches. Not wanting to be upped by him, your hands quickly perch onto his hair grabbing a fistful of hair, eliciting a low grunt from his mouth, making you smirk in victory.

When you pull a little harder, Cheol understandingly pulls away, knowing your need for space, giving you a sliver of space to finally breathe, his forehead still pressed to yours.

You see his doe eyes watching your every move, like he couldn’t believe you were right there. But you also notice the slight lethargy in his gaze, a subtle sign that he could really use some rest. You know the nurses will come in any second, and you’re sure they’ll give you an earful about staying too long, but you can’t bring yourself to leave him just yet.

With a gentle hand on his chest—one he immediately grasps—you push him back down into the pillows, surprised when he falls back with the sudden shove.

“No,” he murmurs petulantly, his grip tightening as he tugs you down with him.

“Coupsie, there’s no space—” you start to protest, but he cuts you off with a small pout.

“I don’t care. We’ll make space,” he mutters, sticking his lower lip out like a child. His fingers wave at you, a silent plea for you to come closer.

You have no choice but to follow, falling into his arms as he pulls you in. His hands are warm and steady as he gently guides you into position, placing your head on his tricep like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You settle there, the softness of his arm the perfect pillow, as his chest rises and falls in rhythm with your own breaths.

“So,” Cheol starts, a mischievous smirk forming on his lips as he looks down at you. “Was this kiss better than last time?”

You blink in disbelief, pulling back just slightly to stare at him, utterly confused. “Last time? Dude, this was my first kiss! Are you high?”

Cheol’s goofy smile only deepens, like he knew a hidden secret

“Remember when you were five and got us to play prince and princess?” he teases, the grin still plastered across his face.

“Yeah, when I had my first kiss and—wait, that was you?” The memory hits you like a ton of bricks, slowly coming back as Cheol continues to look at you, enjoying your turmoil.

“Aha,” he replies, smugly satisfied that he has finally cracked your mind open with that one detail.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you ask, now almost feeling betrayed by your past self. “All my life, I believed Jeonghan was my first kiss, and he’d be my forever-first kiss!”

Cheol’s expression falters slightly, his eyes dropping as a soft sadness creeps into his voice. “This might sound stupid, but I wanted you to come to me. You had all these ideas about love, these superstitions about it—that it had to be your first kiss, or the guy who teased you, or the one who asked you to prom. You believed in love the way fate sets it up, like a fairy tale. And I wanted you to fall for me, not because it was meant to be, but because you wanted it to be.”

His words hit you hard, and you can feel the weight of everything he’s said. He continues, voice low and steady. “That day, a long time ago, I begged Jeonghan to let me kiss you. I wanted you to open your eyes and see me. But you opened them too soon, and all you saw was Jeonghan. All you pined for was him, after that kiss you thought you shared with him. Which, now, you know, was me all along.”

You hold your breath, the sudden clarity overwhelming you. He goes on, his voice soft, almost a whisper. “You had it in your head that he was going to be your husband after just one kiss. But I- I wanted you to see me. The things I’ve done for you. How I’ve always been there, showing you that it was me, loving you all these years. It took over two decades for you to finally see it. But you did, even if it came at the cost of me lying here, in this hospital bed, after surgery.”

Cheol chuckles bitterly, but there’s no humor in it. “That’s why Jeonghan’s been up my ass all this time. He knew from day one that I loved you, and he didn’t want to get in the way of it. Though it was a dick move to break up with you over a text,” he adds with a small wince.

You’re speechless, unable to find the right words to express how overwhelmed you feel, how everything suddenly makes sense. “I- I don’t know what to say,” you admit.

“Say you love me,” Cheol jokes, his voice playful again, but there’s a vulnerability.

“I do love you, Cheol,” you confess, your voice thick with emotion. “And I’m sorry it took me so long to see that. I can finally see it now. I can finally piece it all together. You were always there for me. The birthday where no one showed up, and a few years later, when you found out what Sally’s mom did, so you broke up with her. You punched Julian for me, ditched your date to be with me, and even broke up with Iseul after you almost kissed me—yes, Mingyu told me. All this time, everything you did was to show me you loved me.”

You’re rendered speechless by the look in his eyes, the deep love and warmth that radiates from him. This is the man who has watched you fall for so many others and stayed loyal to you. 

Cheol doesn’t say anything for a moment, his eyes glistening as they stay fixed on you. “Say it again” he softly demands

“Coupsie,” you whisper.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice cracking. “I’ve been looking forward to hearing those words for so long that I- I can’t believe you said them. Please, say it again.”

“I love you, Cheol,” you say, your voice a little steadier now.

Cheol’s face crumples at the sound of your words, and before you know it, tears are streaming down his face. He sniffles, clearly overwhelmed, and you see the moment his dam breaks. His tears flow freely, and he lets go of everything he’s been holding in for so long.

“Again,” he pleads, his voice trembling.

“Cheol, what—” you begin, but he interrupts.

“Please,” he whispers, his voice almost breaking.

You close your eyes, letting the warmth of the moment wash over you, feeling the weight of Cheol’s tears against your chest. This time, it’s your turn to hold him tight. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer, letting him cry freely into you.

It feels strangely comforting to be the one providing the solace for him, after all the years he’s been the one to offer his shoulder for your tears. The roles have reversed, and yet it feels so natural, so right. You let him pour out all his emotions, feeling the quiet tremors in his body as he lets go of everything he’s held in for so long.

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One day, long ago, sitting high on the roof of your house overlooking the town you grew up in, you wrote a few words in your journal to your future self about who you wished your future lover would be.

When you get back home, you can write to your younger self, letting her know that the man you love is none other than Choi Seungcheol. He surpasses all the expectations set by your aching heart.

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A.N: I am gonna sleep now.. i'll wake up and fix the tags and edits out the space. this fic killed me

tagging : @skzbangchanniee @ariananotgrandeee

teaser interactions @bobathi @sailorsoons

[mrgoldmc26]

Blackpink's Crazy Night in Paris Part 1 ft. Lisa

Tags: Blowjob, facefuck, anal, pussy eating, creampie, dirty talk, cum swallowing and more...

Word Count: 8.7k

A/N: First time posting here on Tumblr. I write and post all my stuff on AO3, but decided to make the jump to Tumblr thanks to a friend. I'm a relatively new K-Pop fan, and he's helped me find out a lot about new groups, songs and idols over these past few months. Before I met him, I only knew about Blackpink and IVE, and now I actually think I stan more groups and idols than him 🤣

Anyways, I think that for the next few days, I will keep this account as an only K-Pop account, but I could change my mind at any minute and post my other series in here too. I will create a masterlist very shortly as well, in which I will also mention which groups and idols I'm planning to write about in the future.

I'm really excited to start my Tumblr journey with you all. I follow a lot of K-Pop smut writers in here, and I hope that I can bring something to the community with my stories. My main kinks are gangbangs, blowjobs, dirty talk and facials, so expect a lot of stories like that 😝

I'm gonna try to do what I do on AO3, and reply to every comment, but because I'm new to this platform and UI, it's gonna take a while before I get used to it. Also, really wanna do those smutty asks that I see my favourite writers do once in a while, so send me those.

Anyways, sorry for wasting your time with this long ass A/N. I hope you enjoy the chapter ❤️

The following is a Fan Fiction and should be treated as such.

On the evening of September 28, 2023, as the sun dipped below the Parisian skyline, the area surrounding 12 Avenue George V buzzed with an electric anticipation. The iconic Crazy Horse cabaret, known for its avant-garde performances, was about to host a night that would be etched in the history of the entertainment business, as Blackpink's Lisa was set to perform.

Outside the venue, a sea of paparazzi had gathered, their cameras poised to capture the arrival of the evening's distinguished guests. The soft hum of conversations was occasionally punctuated by the flash of bulbs, illuminating the cobblestone streets in brief, dazzling bursts.

The first few guests started to arrive, and not too long after, Lisa's bandmates (Jisoo, Jennie, and Rosé) made their presence known. Dressed in chic ensembles that effortlessly blended sophistication with modern flair, they stepped out of their sleek black limousine, offering polite smiles to the sea of photographers. Their presence was a testament to the unbreakable bond shared among the Blackpink members, each there to support Lisa's solo endeavors.

Moments later, the atmosphere grew even more charged as the President of France, Emmanuel Macron, accompanied by the First Lady, made their entrance. Their attendance highlighted the significance of the event, bridging the worlds of politics and entertainment. The President, with a cordial nod to the crowd, escorted his wife through the grand entrance, both exuding an air of elegance befitting the occasion.

The exclusivity of the evening event was palpable. With only 250 seats available, the guest list was an exclusive collection of Lisa's closest associates, influential billionaires, and visionaries from various industries. Famous athletes, chart-topping singers, and renowned actors, many of whom had crossed paths with Lisa in her illustrious career, gathered to experience a performance that promised to be nothing short of extraordinary. Among the most notable attendees were Latin pop sensation Rosalía, known for her genre-blending style that combines flamenco with urban sounds, and Tyga, a well-known rapper with a series of charting hits.

Also in attendance was the PSG football team, who turned out in full force for the exclusive event. Among the many noteworthy figures of the squad, two stood out, with the first being Kylian Mbappé, the club's star player. He was one of the highest-paid footballers globally, with his immense popularity reflected in his social media following of over 100 million Instagram followers, a testament to his global influence both on and off the field.

The other noteworthy figure of the PSG squad was actually Nasser Al-Khelaifi, the president and CEO of Paris Saint-Germain. With an estimated net worth of around $300 million, Al-Khelaifi exuded the wealth and power that comes with his position. His fortune and influence in the sports world were undeniable, and therefore, it wasn't a surprise to see him at the prestigious event.

The gathering was a testament to Lisa's wide-reaching impact and her ability to draw in the most powerful figures from various spheres of influence, all of whom had come together for an unforgettable evening.

Upon entering the cabaret, guests were greeted by an ambiance that seamlessly blended classic Parisian charm with contemporary allure. The intimate space was filled with rows of plush velvet seating, each chair arranged meticulously to offer a perfect view of the stage. The deep red color of the furniture contrasted elegantly with the dim, golden lighting, casting a warm glow that enveloped the room.

The stage itself was a masterpiece of minimalist design. A polished ebony floor stretched out, flanked by cascading crimson curtains that hinted at the mysteries they concealed. Above, an intricate array of lights hung, poised to bathe the performers in a spectrum of colors and patterns, setting the tone for each act.

As the guests settled into their seats, a hush of anticipation descended upon the room. Soft murmurs filled the air, with attendees speculating about the evening's performance. Champagne glasses made soft clinking sounds, and the light scent of perfumes filled the air, combining to create an enchanting atmosphere.

As the clock struck 9, the lighting gradually dimmed, drawing the audience's focus entirely toward the stage, as the gentle hum of conversation faded into an anticipatory hush. A single spotlight pierced the darkness, illuminating the velvet curtains as they parted with a graceful sweep. The orchestra, hidden from view, began to play a haunting melody, its notes weaving through the air and drawing the audience further into the spell of anticipation. As the melody built in complexity, subtle rhythmic beats emerged, layering energy into the atmosphere. Slowly, the music swelled, and the velvet curtains parted to reveal the first act. The performers burst onto the stage with electrifying energy, their intricate dance routine seamlessly blending classic burlesque with contemporary choreography. They moved in perfect harmony, their glittering costumes catching the light with every twist and turn, creating a mesmerizing display of color and movement for the guests.

In between the acts, champagne glasses clinked softly, and servers offered trays of elegant finger foods. Guests nibbled on small, bite-sized snacks like soft, flaky pastries filled with creamy cheese, along with smoked salmon served on delicate crackers. There were also sweet pastries filled with smooth cream and a hint of chocolate. These refined treats, paired with the finest champagne, were just enough to keep the guests satisfied without distracting from the captivating performance unfolding before them.

Each subsequent act brought a unique flair to the stage, from sultry solos to daring acrobatic performances, each designed to keep the audience captivated. The air in the cabaret was charged with excitement, the performers delivering an enticing blend of skill and sensuality that left the crowd mesmerized. While the audience applauded generously for each act, there was an unspoken sense that these were but tantalizing preludes to the main event. The murmurs between performances carried a single thread: anticipation for Lisa’s debut.

Backstage, Lisa steadied herself for her debut as a 'Crazy Girl.' The faint hum of the audience filtered through the velvet curtains, a symphony of murmurs and clinking champagne glasses that signaled their anticipation. She adjusted the feathered mask in her hands, its sleek black feathers accented with tiny crystals that caught the dim backstage lighting. As she slipped it on, she couldn’t help but smirk softly. Tonight, she wasn’t just performing. She was about to shock everyone in attendance. They had come expecting a show, but none of them truly believed Lisa would push the boundaries too far. They’d soon realize how wrong they were.

Taking a deep breath, she straightened her posture and stepped into the wings, her heart pounding in rhythm with the crescendo of the orchestra. As the stage manager gave her the cue, she walked into the light.

The applause erupted instantly, cheers and whistles rolling over her like waves. The guests leapt to their feet, clapping and whistling, their excitement palpable in the air. The chairs stretched out in neat rows, each one filled with a captivated guest, but Lisa’s eyes instinctively found three very familiar faces in the front row. Jennie, with Jisoo to her left and Rosé to her right, were seated directly in Lisa's line of sight, their presence adding a familiar comfort as she stepped onto the stage. Lisa’s expression remained serene, her features unreadable behind the mask that framed her piercing gaze. She exuded control, poised and untouchable, her presence commanding the room. The applause softened after several seconds, and the guests slowly returned to their seats, still caught in the lingering admiration for her.

Her outfit was an intricate masterpiece of decadence and allure. The feathered mask was paired with a collar necklace of white diamonds, shimmering brilliantly and drawing attention to her elegant neck. Draped over her shoulders was a fitted, tailored jacket encrusted with emeralds and black sapphires, their deep green and midnight hues reflecting the stage lights in a mesmerizing dance. The jacket hugged her waist, sculpting her figure, and it glittered with every subtle movement. Her arms were adorned with long, black lace gloves, the delicate fabric extending nearly to her shoulders, adding an extra layer of sensuality.

Her legs were encased in sheer black stockings, the tops of which were trimmed with delicate lace. They extended down to a pair of sky-high stiletto heels, patent leather and perfectly polished, each step a click that commanded attention. The ensemble was completed by a pair of high-waisted panties, their design both seductive and practical, with a discreet hook at the hip, designed for quick removal.

Every detail of her ensemble, from the luxurious fabric to the dazzling embellishments, had been designed to evoke both elegance and temptation, a perfect embodiment of the Crazy Horse legacy.

Lisa stood still for a moment, letting the audience absorb her presence. The spotlight cast a halo of brilliance around her as she slowly raised her chin, her eyes sweeping over the crowd with an unflinching gaze. Unfazed by the loud applause, she was entirely in control, her purpose clear. This was her stage, her moment, and she was there to deliver not just a performance, but an unforgettable experience.

The music shifted, its beat more rhythmic and flowing, as Lisa was joined by her six backup dancers, their silhouettes sharp against the dim lighting. With a flick of her wrist, she signaled the start of the routine, and the dancers fell into flawless formation, moving with precision and grace. The choreography was a perfect blend of contemporary and cabaret-inspired dance, with slow and controlled movements that captivated the audience with every step. Lisa led the group effortlessly, her elegance and poise commanding the stage as they performed intricate formations and synchronized spins. The dancers mirrored her movements flawlessly, their long black lace gloves shimmering under the stage lights, adding to the sensuality and sophistication of the performance. Every gesture was a moment of elegance, as the group executed their movements in unison, creating a visual harmony that left the audience in awe.

As the music faded for just a moment, the spotlight shifted solely to Lisa. The dancers, now positioned far away from her, stood frozen in place, allowing the focus to remain entirely on Lisa. With a sultry look in her eyes, she raised her hands to her face, and the audience held its breath in anticipation. Jennie, Jisoo, and Rosé were already clapping and cheering, along with the rest of the crowd, their excitement palpable as Lisa began to remove her gloves. Slowly, sensually, she used her teeth to grip the edge of one black lace glove, pulling it off with teasing slowness, every motion deliberate and captivating. As the first glove was discarded, the crowd reacted, cheers and whistles filling the air. Lisa then slid the second glove off with her now-gloveless hand, continuing the slow, seductive removal. The cheers grew louder, waves of admiration pouring from the audience, while Jennie, Jisoo, and Rosé clapped and hollered, their enthusiasm unmistakable. With the gloves finally gone, Lisa resumed her performance, the dancers returning to their positions as the music swelled again. The room buzzed with excitement, the air thick with the energy of her sensual display, as every eye remained locked on her. The sensual tension lingered, intensifying the connection between Lisa and the audience, their anticipation hanging in the air like a breath held too long.

As the music built to a crescendo, the dancers executed their final formation with a smooth, synchronized turn, pausing for a brief moment of stillness before striking their last pose. Lisa’s presence remained the focal point, her confident gaze sweeping over the crowd as she gracefully led the group in the final stretch of the routine. With the last beats echoing through the room, Lisa reached up and removed her black feathered mask in one fluid motion, revealing her striking features to the audience. The timing was flawless. Just as the performance ended and her mask came off, the crowd erupted into applause. The dancers took their bows alongside Lisa, the curtains began to close, and the stage was enveloped in darkness for several seconds, the energy hanging in the air as anticipation grew for what was to come next.

Suddenly, the lights flared back to life, bathing the room in a brilliant glow. In the center of the stage stood Lisa, her silhouette sharp against the illumination. She was alone now, the absence of her dancers creating an intoxicating tension in the air. With a slow, deliberate movement, she reached up, her fingers tracing the edge of her jacket before pulling it off, revealing the intricately laced black satin corset that hugged her figure with seductive precision. Designed to accentuate her curves without restricting movement, the corset fit snugly but wasn’t overly tight, allowing her to dance comfortably and effortlessly. The elegant design featured hidden hooks and eyes, blending seamlessly into the fabric to allow for easy and quick removal if desired. The lace detailing created a striking contrast to the powerful presence she commanded on stage.

As the spotlight shifted, Lisa turned her back to the audience, facing away from them as her hips swayed with each step. She walked toward the stripper pole, her movements fluid and deliberate, every motion dripping with confidence. The way her corset clung to her body made her ass stand out in a way that could only be described as captivating, each step she took amplifying the tantalizing effect of her outfit. With every stride, the tightness of the corset accentuated the curve of her waist, and the motion of her hips made her look even more enticing. As she reached the pole, she placed one hand around it, her fingers curling sensually around its cold metal surface. Slowly, teasingly, she began to circle the pole, her hips swaying rhythmically, a perfect blend of control and sensuality. The crowd was drawn to her every move, captivated by the tantalizing promise of what was to come.

The music swelled with a rhythmic pulse, and Lisa began her performance by leaning into the pole, her hand sliding slowly along its length. She started with simple, fluid movements, circling the pole with calculated grace. Her hips swayed hypnotically to the beat, each step purposeful and controlled, her stiletto heels clicking softly against the polished stage floor.

She teased the crowd with small spins, wrapping one long leg around the pole while her body pivoted effortlessly. Each spin was slow and deliberate, her hair cascading like silk as she tilted her head back, drawing in the audience’s fixed attention. She stayed close to the ground, emphasizing her sensuality without rushing into complex tricks just yet.

Lisa then transitioned to floorwork, kneeling gracefully, her hands gliding down the pole as she arched her back and rolled her hips. She rose back to her feet with a seamless elegance, her movements sultry yet restrained, leaving the crowd mesmerized by her confidence and presence. The first part of her routine was a masterclass in teasing; every gesture was a promise of something greater yet to come.

As the music built to a crescendo, Lisa moved into the more advanced phase of her performance. She climbed the pole with an effortless agility, her toned legs gripping tightly as she ascended, each movement exuding control and strength. Once near the top, she hooked a knee around the pole, arching her back and leaning backward into a breathtaking pose, her other leg extended gracefully. The crowd gasped as she spun slowly in this inverted position, her body like a sculpture of elegance and allure.

Sliding down the pole with practiced ease, Lisa stopped halfway, her body suspended with both legs wrapped firmly around the pole. She leaned her upper body forward, her hands lightly gripping the pole for balance, and then began a slow, mesmerizing undulation. With each thrust, she leaned in and out, her torso moving in a controlled, hypnotic rhythm. The movement was both sensual and powerful, a display of mastery that captivated the crowd. Her hips swayed slightly with each motion, her body undulating like a wave, perfectly synchronized with the music’s seductive beat.

Then, as if to take the crowd’s breath away, she let herself slide further down the pole, flipping upside-down with her legs spreading wide in a star-like formation. Her body perfectly aligned, the stage lights highlighted every curve, and the sheer athleticism of the move stunned the audience. With a slow, deliberate motion, she transitioned into a split hold, her legs extended horizontally while she gripped the pole with her thighs, spinning elegantly before lowering herself to the ground with unmatched finesse.

Lisa’s movements became increasingly daring and sensual as she danced. She intertwined graceful spins with moments where her body pressed teasingly against the pole, her expressions a mix of confidence and seduction. She ended the performance with a final dramatic move: climbing the pole one last time, spinning in a controlled descent until her feet touched the stage floor. With the last note of the music fading, Lisa stood tall, her piercing gaze scanning the audience as she struck a commanding pose, leaving them in awe of her beauty and skill.

A brief pause lingered, the air thick with anticipation as Lisa’s hands slid to the front of her corset. With a slow, deliberate motion, she unhooked the hidden fastenings, each movement tantalizingly precise. The structured garment loosened, and with a graceful shrug of her shoulders, she let it slide down her torso, revealing the delicate, shimmering tassel nipple pasties that now adorned her bare chest. The crowd erupted, the combination of admiration and exhilaration palpable as Lisa discarded the corset to the side, standing in nothing but her sheer black stockings, lace-trimmed high-waisted panties, and sky-high patent leather stiletto heels.

Freed from the constraints of the corset, Lisa's movements became even more fluid, her body effortlessly melting into the next phase of the performance. She dropped gracefully to the floor, her legs extending in sharp, mesmerizing motions that captivated every set of eyes in the room. A smooth transition led her into a seamless split, her thighs parting with ease as she faced the audience, arching her back just enough to emphasize every curve of her body. Her hands grazed the floor, her fingers tracing invisible patterns as she shifted, rolling onto her stomach with an effortless glide.

Now, with her back to the audience, Lisa lifted herself just enough to tilt her hips, offering them a perfect view of the sculpted curves that moved in perfect sync with the music. Her long legs sliced through the air as she pushed herself into another split, this time facing away, her ass arching as she lingered for a moment before sweeping her legs together and rolling into a sensuous backbend. Every motion was executed with the kind of precision and confidence that only Lisa could embody—controlled, deliberate, and undeniably hypnotic, given how little she was wearing.

She wasn’t in a hurry. Every motion was slow and deliberate, dripping with purpose. Each flick of her ankle, each flex of her thigh designed to send the crowd into a frenzy. As she lifted herself back onto her knees, one hand dragging slowly up her body, her gaze flickered up, locking onto the audience with a knowing smirk.

As her hand slid slowly up her body, her fingertips brushing against her skin with deliberate slowness, the anticipation in the room reached a fever pitch. Lisa’s eyes never left the crowd, her smirk widening just slightly as she felt the heat of their gaze. She was in control, and she knew it.

With a subtle shift, she pulled at the edges of her tassel nipple pasties, the delicate strands of ribbon catching the light as she gave it a teasing tug. The fabrics barely moved at first, but then with a fluid motion, she yanked them free, tossing them aside like a prize. The crowd gasped, the shockwave of her boldness vibrating through the room.

For just a moment, a heavy silence hung in the air, deafening and almost unreal. Then the cheers came, loud and wild, an uproar of adoration and disbelief. Lisa, with her breasts now fully exposed, only smirked wider, reveling in the power of the moment. She was unapologetically herself, and nothing could take away her command of the stage.

Naked from the waist up, Lisa stood there with her tits out for a brief moment, drinking in the crowd’s feverish energy as their cheers swelled. She could feel their eyes locked onto her, their collective desire turning her body into a living canvas for their hungry gazes.

Her hands moved like a symphony of seduction, tracing the curves of her body with the kind of smooth grace that made every inch of her skin seem like an invitation. She swept her fingers across her collarbone, teasingly brushing over her chest before sliding them down the smoothness of her stomach. Each movement was purposeful, calculated to draw out the tension, to make them beg for more without her ever saying a word.

As her hands glided over her body, she locked eyes with the audience, her smirk returning, full of knowing. She was in complete control, making sure they couldn’t look away. Her hips swayed, each motion measured and deliberate, designed to keep the attention on every inch of her. She pulled her hands up, sliding them over her breasts and her nipples in a slow, almost painful motion, before letting them drift lower, brushing the edge of her waist. She lingered there for a moment, letting the heat of the moment build, before allowing her hands to slide down to her thighs, pushing the boundaries of seduction further.

The crowd was buzzing with anticipation, but Lisa remained composed, her smirk never faltering as she turned away from them, giving them the perfect view of her sculpted back. She slowly backed up, moving towards the edge of the stage with the precision of a dancer who knew the power of every step and every motion. As she moved closer to the audience, the room seemed to hold its breath.

With a subtle shift in her posture, she reached down with one hand, her fingers delicately finding the hook on the side of her panties. The fabric was tight against her skin, the delicate lace trimming hugging her curves as her fingers toyed with the hook. The crowd watched in silence, their eyes fixated on the moment.

Lisa gave them one last look over her shoulder, the hint of a smile playing at the corner of her lips, before she unhooked the panties with a slow, deliberate motion. The fabric began to loosen, teasingly falling down her legs as she bent forward, her body lowering into a perfect 90-degree angle. Her ass arched out towards the crowd, her movements fluid and controlled as the panties slowly slid down her legs, eventually falling at her feet as she exposed her glorious cunt for everyone to see.

The room erupted with cheers and applause, the crowd now in a frenzy of excitement. Lisa lifted her foot, kicking the panties aside as she stood back up, the cool air hitting her bare skin. She was now fully nude, save for the pair of stiletto heels and her sheer stockings that hugged her toned legs, the lace trim framing her shapely ass perfectly.

With the final seconds of her performance approaching, Lisa decided to go all the way. With her body still bent over, she stuck a hand between her legs and put two fingers on her pussy, using them to spread her labia open, giving the audience a clear view of her pink, glistening cunt. The crowd went crazy for Lisa's actions, no more than her three best friends in the front row. As if it couldn't get any better or hotter, Lisa then turned around and raised her hand to her mouth, sucking on her own fingers, her tongue swirling around them as she tasted her own arousal. The crowd was deafening by this point, cheering and whistling, their lust evident. It was clear that she had taken things to the next level, and they loved every second of it.

As the last few notes of the final song came to an end, Lisa took a deep bow to thank the crowd, then stood back up with a radiant smile, her naked body still on full display for the guests to see. The entire audience rose to their feet, erupting into applause for Lisa’s monumental performance. They chanted her name for several seconds, and Lisa continued thanking them, waving with gratitude until the lights dimmed and she made her exit.

Backstage, she was met by her manager, who immediately handed her a robe to cover her body. She thanked the staff members who congratulated her on a legendary performance at the Crazy Horse show. Just as she was about to step into her dressing room, her bandmates' excited voices rang out from a distance, calling her name as they rushed over to congratulate her on her number.

"Oh my god, Lisa. That was amazing!" Jisoo exclaimed, a wide smile stretching across her face.

"I can't believe you did that. You could’ve told your best friend you were gonna do that tonight." Rosé added, still stunned by Lisa's performance.

"Sorry...I didn’t want to spoil you, girls. I wanted to see the shock on your faces."

"It was so hot. I'm so wet right now. I even rubbed one out in the front row, not gonna lie." Jennie said, her cheeks flushed red, her voice dripping with lust.

"Damn, did I turn you on that much? Did I make you that horny?"

"Girl...I’m always horny."

"Yeah...horny for cocks." Lisa joked.

"Speaking of that...should we hit the club?" Rosé suggested.

"Of course. I wanna play cock roulette." Jennie added, referring to their favorite club game.

"Yeah, absolutely. I’m dying to get dicked right now. Let's have some drinks and some fun. Just let me get dressed. You guys wait in the car." Lisa said, saying goodbye to her friends before stepping into her dressing room.

Inside, she sat down for five minutes, just trying to take it all in, what had just gone down on stage. Phones weren’t allowed, so she shouldn’t have to worry about anything leaking online. She trusted everyone in attendance to keep quiet, to not run to the media.

And yet, that nagging thought crept in...what if?

What if someone had managed to sneak in a phone? What if a guest decided to open his mouth and tell the whole world what had happened during Lisa’s performance? The fact that she showed her entire body to everyone in attendance...her tits, her ass and her pussy out in full display for the lucky few deemed worthy enough to attend the Crazy Horse show that night.

If it ever came out, she’d have to deal with the fallout—the headlines, the public scrutiny, the endless speculation about why she had done it. There would be backlash, judgment, and maybe even consequences she couldn’t yet predict. But right now, she didn’t have time to dwell on that. Her friends were waiting for her, eager to hit the club, and she wasn’t about to waste the rest of the night worrying about something that might never happen. Tonight was about celebrating and letting loose.

Lisa made her way toward the vanity table, grabbing the champagne bottle. Tilting it over her glass, she sighed when nothing came out. Still wrapped in her robe, she cracked open the door, calling for a staff member.

"Excuse me. I’m out of champagne. Could you bring me a bottle, please?"

"Of course, madame. One moment." The young staff member hurried off.

He was a tall, young, white man with short curly brown hair, barely looking 20, his nervous energy palpable as Lisa asked for his help.

A few minutes later, he returned, knocking on her door. Lisa opened it, stepping aside to let him in. The young man stepped inside hesitantly, clutching the cold champagne bottle in his hands. His movements were careful, almost too precise, as he made his way toward Lisa’s vanity table. Placing the bottle down, he twisted the foil, peeled it away, and expertly popped the cork with a soft pop, the faintest hint of bubbles fizzing to the surface as he poured the golden liquid into her glass.

Lisa leaned against the table, watching him with amusement as he filled it nearly to the brim. She smirked, lifting the glass to her lips for a small sip before looking at him.

"Thank you." She said smoothly, letting her eyes linger on his face.

"You’re welcome, ma’am." He replied, keeping his gaze respectfully averted.

"No need to be so formal. You can call me Lisa." She said, letting out a soft chuckle.

The young garçon shifted on his feet, a nervous gulp escaping him as he tightened his grip on the bottle.

"Awwww...are you getting shy?" She teased, tilting her head as her smirk grew wider.

"Come on, tell me...did you watch the show?"

"Yes, I did." He said, hesitating for a few seconds before replying to the Blackpink's main dancer.

"And? Did you enjoy it?"

"Y...yes...it was incredible." He admitted, clearly struggling to keep his composure around the Thai superstar.

Lisa stepped closer to him, her robe parting ever so slightly as she moved.

"Tell me...what was your favorite part?" She asked, her voice dripping with playful curiosity as she reached up, adjusting the knot of his bow tie with delicate fingers. She took her time, straightening it with slow, deliberate movements before smoothing out the fabric. Her touch lingered as she gave his chest a light pat, then let her palm rest against him, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breath beneath her fingertips.

"I, uh...I don’t know if I should say..."

Lisa let out a soft, sultry laugh, thoroughly enjoying his reaction. The young man cleared his throat, stepping backward towards the door.

"I should go..." He said quickly, reaching for the handle, but before he could twist it open, Lisa’s voice stopped him.

"Leaving so soon? I was thinking we could have some fun together." Lisa said, taking another step forward, her robe slipping slightly off one shoulder.

"You know, performing on that stage got me so wet...I could really use your help right now, boy." Lisa said, as she pinned the guy to the door before she put her hand on his crotch, feeling his already hardening cock.

"Ohhh...seems like someone is having some fun already. Are you getting horny, boy? Do you like the sound of my voice? Does it turn you on?" Lisa whispered into his ear, her breath hot against his neck as she continued stroking his cock through his pants.

"I...yes." He moaned, unable to hide the effect Lisa had on him.

"I'm so fucking horny right now. Are you going to be a good little boy and do what I tell you to do?"

"Y...yes, Lisa."

"Good boy." She said, taking a step back and letting the robe slide down her body, exposing her naked, sweaty body.

The garçon stared at her nude body, his eyes wide as his gaze traveled down the length of her torso, lingering on her smooth, toned stomach. She looked like a goddess, her skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, her chest rising and falling with each breath. He couldn't help but admire her perfectly shaped breasts, the way they bounced slightly with every movement.

Lisa slowly turned around, giving him a perfect view of her ass and pussy. She was shaved completely bare, her lips slightly parted, her pink slit glistening with her arousal. Lisa looked back over her shoulder, her expression playful, almost teasing.

"Come on, boy. I don't have all day. Get down on your knees and eat me."

The guy complied immediately, dropping to his knees and pressing his face against her ass, his tongue flicking out to lick her juices. He grabbed her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh as he lapped at her folds with slow and deliberate movements, savoring every drop of her arousal.

"That's it. Keep licking."

"I love having young studs between my legs, eating me out." She said, putting her arm behind her back and grabbing the back of his head, pushing his face deeper into her ass and pussy.

The garçon groaned, his cock throbbing painfully in his pants as he continued lapping at her folds. Lisa's eyes rolled back, a low moan escaping her lips as he slid his tongue into her opening, his nose pressing against her clit. Her thighs trembled, the sensation of his warm tongue inside her sending waves of pleasure through her body.  She could feel his hot breath against her skin, the vibrations of his moans echoing against her core.

"You like how my pussy tastes, boy?"

"Mmmm...yes, Lisa. You taste so fucking good."

"I bet this is the best day of your life, isn't it? Seeing me naked...eating me...about to fuck the living shit out of me..."

"You know...I've been wanting a nice cock inside my pussy all night long." Lisa said, as the guy continued to lick and lap at her pussy, his tongue darting in and out of her slick opening. Lisa's grip tightened, her fingers tangled in his hair, as he began to suck and slurp at her wetness, the sounds echoing throughout the room. She couldn't take it anymore. She needed him inside her.

"Fuck, I need a cock. I need your cock inside me right now!!!" She moaned, reaching back and pulled his face deeper into her pussy, grinding her hips against him.

"Get your cock out and fuck me, please." She begged, her voice filled with desperation as she pulled him away from her pussy, before turning around and sinking to her knees.

The garçon nodded, his hands trembling as he unzipped his pants, pulling them down along with his boxers. His throbbing erection sprang free, hitting Lisa right in the face.

Lisa looked up at him, her lips curved in a sexy smile as she took his cock in her hands, stroking him with slow, steady motions.

"Mmmm...such a big, fat cock, I'm surprised. I can't wait to have it inside me."

The Thai starlet spat on it and kept jerking it for several seconds, making sure his cock was nice and ready for her. As Lisa was giving him a very quick but sloppy handjob, he used this opportunity to take off the rest of his clothes, and once he was done, she stood up, turned around, and made her way towards her table, putting her right leg on top of it and presenting her pussy to him.

"C'mon, French guy. What are you waiting for? I don't have all night."

He immediately walked towards her, his cock achingly hard and pointing upwards, the tip glistening with precum. He placed his hands on her hips, pulling her close, his shaft pressing against her folds. She arched her back, her ass sticking out, inviting him to thrust his dick deep inside her.

"Do your worst. Fuck me as hard as you can and ruin me!"

Without wasting another second, he slid into her, his thickness stretching Lisa's inner walls, filling her completely. She let out a loud moan, her eyes rolling back as he started to thrust in and out of her, his movements fast and frantic.

"Fuck...yes...that's it...fuck me harder!" She screamed, her voice dripping with lust as she slightly pushed her ass back against him, meeting his thrusts with equal force.

The garçon groaned, his balls slapping against her ass with each stroke, his grip on her hips tightening. He fucked her like an animal, his cock pounding her pussy relentlessly, the sounds of their flesh slapping against each other filling the air.

"Yeah...you like that? You like how my pussy feels around your big fat cock?"

"Fuckkk yes, I love it! Your pussy feels amazing, Lisa!" He growled, his voice filled with pure desire as he continued to ram his cock deep into her.

Lisa looked at herself in the mirror, watching her reflection as the guy rammed his cock into her from behind, his eyes glued to her ass. Her tits bounced with every stroke, her hair sticking to her sweat-soaked body. She loved the feeling of being fucked from behind, especially by a big, fat cock like the one currently pumping in and out of her pussy.

As for him, his lust for Lisa grew with every thrust, and the longer he kept fucking her, the greedier he got.

"Can I...can I fuck your ass?"

"Fuck...I don't have much time...tell you what...make me cum and I will let you fuck my ass, deal?"

He nodded, a grin stretching across his face. In pure desperation of wanting to make the Blackpink slut cum so that he could have a go at her ass, he started pumping his hips like crazy, slamming his cock in and out of her cunt, making Lisa moan like a bitch in heat in the process. The French stud was fucking her so fast, that it was hard for Lisa to keep her leg still on the table, and it was making her involuntary kick small items that were on top of the table towards the floor every time he went for a deeper thrust.

She tried to grab onto something for dear life, putting her hands on the vanity table, but that also resulted in her knocking down items off of the table, including the champagne bottle. It broke as it fell to the floor, its contents spilling everywhere, the sound echoing through the room.

"Fuuuuccckkkk...your cock is filling me up so gooood..."

"Oh...shit...sorry." He said, apologizing for making Lisa break the champagne bottle.

"Don't apologize, boy. Shut the fuck up and keep fucking me. I'm about to cum." Lisa demanded, as she reached her arm out, her fingers curling around the edge of the mirror.

Lisa was getting close. Her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth hanging open, her breaths coming in short gasps. She could feel her orgasm building, her body trembling as his cock hit all the right spots.

"Talk dirty to me. It turns me on so much!"

"Are you sure, Lisa?"

"Yes!!! Degrade me!"

Degrading women wasn't really his thing, but he was never one to refuse an order, especially not from the one and only Lisa Manoban.

"I watched the show from backstage...you know what I really thought?"

"Noooooo, please tell me, fuckkkk..." She moaned, every thrust bringing her closer to the edge.

"I thought you were a fucking slut, showing off your tits, ass and pussy to everyone. Such a dirty fucking slut."

"That's me!!!...I'm a dirty, shameless, filthy fucking slut." Lisa repeated, her voice quivering.

"All I wanted to do whilst watching you was run upon that stage and start fucking you in front of every guest."

"Why didn't you do that then? Fuckkkk. You have no idea how badly I wanted to have sex on that stage. To get fucked like a cumslut in front of everyone."

"You are lucky that there were no cameras, Lisa. We should've livestreamed the whole event, so that the whole world would find out just how much of a slut you really are!"

The more he kept degrading her whilst fucking her, the more turned on Lisa got, her arousal soaking her thighs, coating her pussy and his balls. Lisa couldn't help herself and started rubbing her clit as his pace increased. His strokes grew harder and faster each time his cock drilled Lisa's tight, wet pussy.

"Don't stop! Please...keep fucking me, boy! I want your cum inside me." She begged, her pussy squeezing his shaft, her body begging for release. The Frenchman fondled her right tit with his hand, as he fucked her mercilessly, the sounds of their bodies slapping against each other filling the room.

He wanted to have a go at her ass, but with Lisa's shameless self-degrading comments, he was unable to resist any longer, and neither could Lisa, as their orgasms fell upon them pretty much in unison.

"Fuck...here it comes!"

"Yes, give it to me. Fill me up with your hot, creamy load."

With one final hard thrust, he buried his cock deep inside her, his hips bucking wildly and his body spasming as he shot his load, coating her inner walls with his seed. Lisa's body tensed up, her pussy clenching around his cock, milking every drop of his cum, her eyes rolling back, a low drawn-out moan escaping her lips as she came.

She rested her forehead against the table, panting, trying to catch her breath, her heart racing. She could feel his hot, sticky cum trickling down her thighs, his cock still buried inside her as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Wow...that was amazing." He said.

"Yeah? Did you enjoy having your way with an idol?

"Absolutely."

"Great. Lets get this cock nice and clean before it goes inside my ass."

Lisa swiftly dropped to her knees and grabbed his cum-covered cock. She used her tongue to lick his cock clean, swallowing the mixture of her juices and his cum.

"That's a good girl. Get my cock nice and hard so that I can destroy that ass." He said, looking down at the beautiful Blackpink slut licking his cock clean, his shaft already beginning to grow again.

Lisa couldn't help but giggle. She was proud of her work on him in such a short amount of time. Ten minutes ago, he was nothing more than a shy, young Frenchman. Now, he had all the confidence in the world, all thanks to Lisa's self-degrading remarks.

"Your cock tastes so good in my mouth." She said, opening her mouth and sticking out her tongue before slapping herself with his hard shaft.

By this point, his cock was more than ready for her asshole, but Lisa just simply couldn't take her mouth from it. She kept her lips around his length and rapidly slurped on his dick like there was no tomorrow. Lisa bobbed her head up and down, sucking him off like a complete whore.

"Holy shit...you are so good at this." He said, placing his hand on the back of her head, pushing her head further down on his length.

"Yeah, you think so? I love sucking dick so much. Especially fat ones like yours."

"You are so fucking slutty."

"I know. Now, I want you to fuck my face." She demanded, looking up at him with lust-filled eyes, her hands firmly holding the base of his cock.

He obliged, grabbing the back of her head and thrusting his cock deep into her mouth. Lisa gagged slightly, her saliva pooling around his shaft as she took him deeper and deeper, the tip of his dick hitting the back of her throat. She looked so fucking sexy, naked on her knees, her lips stretched around his shaft with her mouth filled with cock.

"Fuckkkkkk...this is incredible. I can't believe you are letting me do this to you." He moaned, his cock pulsating in her mouth as she sucked him harder.

Lisa continued to blow him eagerly, her lips gliding over his thick length, tongue swirling as she kept slobbering all over his thick shaft. Sloppy, desperate sounds filled the room as she took him deep, hands stroking in rhythm with every bob of her head. The garçon could hardly believe his luck.

She loved feeling his hard cock move past her lips and hit the back of her throat, her jaw aching as he thrust deeper into her mouth. Saliva kept dribbling down her chin as he continued to fuck her face, his balls slapping against her chin with every thrust.

"Take that dick all the way down. Your throat feels so fucking good around my cock."

Lisa knew she could make him stop with just a snap of her fingers. She was in control, but she was beyond horny, and she loved giving up her power, allowing others to use her however they pleased, and this situation was no different.

The garçon was enjoying every second of his time with Lisa and her warm throat, but also knew if he kept this up, he was going to end up blowing his load without being able to have a go at her ass, so, after a couple more thrusts he pulled his cock out of her mouth, Lisa's spit still connecting his dick and her mouth together.

"Are you going to put that fat cock in my ass now, boy?"

"Absolutely." He said, grabbing a chair that was nearby and placing it in front of the vanity table, giving her something to hold on to once he started fucking her.

Lisa smirked as she got up and bent over, putting her hands on each side of the chair. She looked over her shoulder to see the Frenchman standing behind her, his cock glistening with her saliva, throbbing and ready to penetrate her.

"Go on, give me what I want. Give me that fat dick." She said, licking her lips, her ass sticking out, inviting him in.

He moved closer, placing the tip of his cock at the entrance of her asshole, teasing her slightly. Lisa let out a soft whimper, her body trembling with anticipation.

"Please, just do it. I need your cock in my ass." She begged.

He didn't waste much more time and pushed himself inside, the tight ring of muscle stretching to accommodate his size. Lisa bit her lower lip, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the chair tighter. The feeling of his cock filling her ass was almost too much for her.

"Hmmm, fuck...you have no idea how much I love having big dicks in my ass."

"Fuck me. Don't hold back, boy."

Lisa's moans were music to his ears, and it only encouraged him to give her even more of his cock. The guy began pounding her tight ass, firmly holding her hips as he buried his length deep inside her. Lisa gasped, her eyes rolling back as she felt his dick fill her, stretching her wide open.

"Yes! That's it, keep fucking my ass. Fuckkkk...I love how your cock feels inside me."

"Holy shit, your ass feels so good around my dick. You like having your ass destroyed?"

"Fuck yes! Keep fucking my slutty little asshole."

Sounds of flesh slapping against flesh filled the air as he continued to fuck her, his balls swinging wildly with each thrust. Lisa arched her back and began pushing her ass against him, meeting his thrusts to take his big cock deeper. She was in absolute bliss, the feeling of his thick cock pounding her ass was indescribable. Lisa could feel his warm breath against her skin as the young stud leaned down to kiss her neck, his hands sliding up her body, cupping her tits.

"Keep going, don't stop. I want it harder, please fuck me harder..." She pleaded, her body trembling with pleasure, the sensation of his cock inside her making her feel like she was in heaven.

"Such a good little slut for my cock, aren't you? I bet you didn't even want to perform tonight. You just wanted everyone to see you naked, didn't you?"

"Yes...I love being fucked like a slut and be degraded like a common whore."

Lisa's comments made him groan, and he began slamming his hips into her ass with much more force than before, the sound echoing through the room. Lisa's entire body rocked back and forth, her tits swaying with each thrust as she held onto the chair for dear life.

"Use me like a fuckdoll and give me your cum." She said, reaching her clit with her hand before she began rubbing it as he continued to pound her.

The garçon's thrusts became more erratic, his breathing becoming heavier as he fucked her harder, his balls slapping against her clit. Lisa moaned louder, her voice dripping with pure lust as she kept rubbing her clit, bringing herself closer and closer to the edge.

"Fuckkkkkk...I'm going to cum, boy."

"Cum for me. Cum while I fuck your asshole, Lisa." He demanded, his cock pounding her ass relentlessly as he grabbed her hair and pulled it. Lisa's mouth hanged open as she came, her pussy spasming, coating his balls with her juices. Her body shook violently and her vision became blurry as her orgasm washed over her, with her ass clenching around his cock.

"Lisa, I'm gonna cum too. Where do you want it?"

"Mouth...I want you to dump that load inside my throat." She quickly said, pulling herself off his cock and turning around before she squatted.

The Thai slut didn't waste a single second and began rapidly jerking his cock with both of her hands in a corkscrew motion with the tip past her lips. Her tongue swirled around the head, constantly flickering his piss slit as her hands stroked his cock, occasionally moving down to cup his balls and massage them gently.

It didn't take long before the guy let out a loud groan and Lisa felt his cock begging to throb in her hands and her mouth, and not a moment later, his seed started erupting inside her mouth. Lisa felt multiple ropes hitting the back of her throat, but instead of swallowing it, she tried to hold as much cum as she could in her mouth.

Thankfully for her, it was his second load, so the amount of cum he deposited inside Blackpink's superstar was nowhere near the amount he had dumped inside Lisa's pussy a few minutes ago, but that still didn't stop her mouth from being full and for a small amount of cum to spill from the corners of her mouth.

Once she felt like he was done, Lisa slowly slid his cock out of her mouth and opened it, showing him the load he had given her.

"Fucking slut. Swallow my load like the good little cumdumpster that you are."

Lisa obliged, swallowing every single drop of his thick cum in one go, her throat convulsing as she gulped him down. It was a lot for her to handle, but she managed to take it all in, and she savored the taste, swallowing his cum until her mouth was empty.

"So much cum for me, I love it." Lisa said, before putting her lips back on his big cock to milk him dry out of every last drop.

She slowly bobbed her head up and down on his leaking shaft before releasing it with a pop and licking her lips clean, a smile on her face.

"That was amazing. Thank you so much for your cock and your cum. Now go. Leave my dressing room, I got places to be."

"Yes, Lisa." He said, picking up his clothes and quickly putting them back on before leaving her dressing room.

As for Lisa, she stayed naked on her knees, looking at her reflection in the mirror, admiring her naked body. After a while, she got up and picked up a towel, to clean herself from all the sweat and cum. Once she was done, she put on clean underwear and a nice dress, before heading out and making her way towards the car, where her bandmates were waiting.

"Lisa, what the fuck took you so long?" Jennie said, clearly annoyed.

"Yeah girl, it's been almost 30 minutes..." Rosé added.

"Sorry, girls. I had to take some time to relax."

"Relax? You look more exhausted than before." Jisoo pointed out.

"Just...just drive already."

"Yeah, lets get out of here. Lets go to the club!!!!!" Rosé shouted.

"Can't wait to get fucked so hard." Jennie said.

"That is, if you win cock roulette." Jisoo said.

"Girl, I always win cock roulette. Tonight will be no different."

"Don't start celebrating just yet, Jennie. If anyone is winning that tonight, it's me. I'm so horny right now, that I'm ready to go all the way." Rosé said, as she placed her hand on her crotch and began rubbing herself through her panties.

"We'll see about that." Jennie responded as the girls drove away and made their way to the club, to what would undoubtedly be another unforgettable night for the four Blackpink sluts.

[callmemonster68]

ENHYPEN - Eat Eat ( smut )

How They Eat Pussy

Pairing: Enhypen X FemReader (Masterlist)

Genre: Smut

Warning: Contains explicit content, unprotected sex, suggestive, penetration, explicit language, climax, sex, swearing, hickeys, messy make-out sessions, dirty talk, compliments, rough sex, touching bruises

Jungwon (Kind, but Addicted)

Jungwon may seem shy, but when it comes to giving you pleasure, he transforms.

He starts slowly, exploring every part with kisses and nibbles.  But as soon as he feels you squirming, he completely lets go.

His tongue moves quickly and precisely, without hesitation.  He moans against her skin, which makes everything even more intense.

— You are so delicious...

He sinks deeper, addicted to the feeling of having you like this, completely surrendered to him.

And when you come, he smiles against your skin, satisfied to have gotten what he wanted.

Niki (Hungry and Wild)

Niki doesn't have patience for long foreplay when it comes to giving you pleasure with his mouth. He throws you onto the bed, spreads your legs with his big hands, and barely waits for you to get used to the position before attacking.

He starts licking however he wants, without any particular rhythm, just guided by the desire to hear you moan. He makes a point of looking up, observing every reaction of yours, and smiles contentedly as he sees your body trembling with each strong suck he gives to your clitoris.

— Is it good, princess? — he murmurs, sliding his tongue deeper.

And when you are about to come, he holds your hips in place and goes deeper, devouring you as if his mouth were made for it.

Sunghoon (Dominant and Controlled)

Sunghoon likes to tease you before giving in.  He kisses you slowly, nibbles your skin, slides his fingers over your intimacy without haste.

— Are you already wet? — he asks, with a satisfied smile.

When he finally lowers himself between her legs, he makes a point of holding her hips, preventing any movement.  His tongue is firm and controlled, he explores every detail with precision, never losing the rhythm.

He loves the power he has over your pleasure and doesn't stop until he feels you trembling and breathless, completely surrendered to him.

—I love feeling you like this... so vulnerable just for me.

Heeseung (Intense and Addictive)

Heeseung has a mission every time he gets between your legs: to make you forget your own name.

He starts with wet and slow kisses, exploring every little piece of you before finally running his tongue between your lips, savoring you.  He moans softly against your skin, as if he were getting as excited as you are.

His movements are precise and rhythmic, his tongue works in a hypnotizing way, applying pressure where he knows you like it the most.

— So perfect for me... — he murmurs, increasing the speed.

And when he feels you near the climax, he holds you firmly and continues until he feels your body tremble, leaving you completely surrendered to him.

Jake (Focused and Determined)

Jake doesn't mess around on the job.  As soon as he starts, he has only one goal: to make you come.

He starts with a firm tongue, gently sucking her clitoris before intensifying the movements.  He holds her legs open, preventing any resistance.

When he realizes you are close to climax, he intensifies everything — adding his fingers, sucking harder, moaning against your skin, doing everything to increase your pleasure.

— That's it... come to me, love.

And when you finally reach your limit, he keeps going, determined to make you feel even more.

Jay (Devoted and Passionate)

For Jay, eating you is a pleasure just as much as it is for you.  He does it calmly and with devotion, as if he were addicted to your taste.

He kisses every part of your intimacy before finally giving you the first touch of his tongue, savoring every movement.  He moans against your skin, as if he were enjoying it as much as you are.

His fingers slide along with the tongue, provoking even more intense reactions.

— I could do this all day long...— he whispers before bringing you to the peak.

And after you come, he doesn't stop.  He keeps going, wanting to bring you to another orgasm before finally letting you rest.

Sunoo (Provocative and Precise)

Sunoo likes to turn everything into a game. He starts slowly, kissing your belly, your thighs, blowing against your skin until you are begging for him.

— Do you want me to start? — he whispers, his lips hovering dangerously close to her intimacy.

When he finally touches you, he does so with calmness and precision, exploring every sensitive point in the slowest way possible. He alternates between gentle kisses and deep licks, holding your thighs to prevent you from escaping.

And the moment he realizes you're about to come, he stops.

— Ah, love... I'm not done yet.

He laughs when he sees your frustration and only then takes you to the brink of pleasure, using his fingers along with his tongue to make you beg for more.

✿ If you don't reblog and comment, you can be sure I'll be showing up in your dreams tonight... and I won’t be as sweet as in the story ✿

[meadowfics]

I apologize if you're not taking requests at this time. I just have to get it down before I forget lol.

What if Kang Dae-Ho and reader meet during the games and somehow survive and get married and have a kid who one day comes home from school wanting to play these children games they learned from their classmates/teachers (the games they played) and maybe it brings up the bad memories. Like kinda angsty but with a comforting ending something.

childhood dreams, adult nightmares

kang dae-ho x wife!mother!reader

seo-ah does not understand the effect of a childhood game on you

I am adding this to my, "kang family" series since this is such a good concept! thank you for requesting <3

warning: PTSD mentions, yes dae-ho and y/n were in the games in this AU before seo-ah and byeol came along :(

there is a link to see seo-ah's little cute sneakers to make your day <3

four years ago, you never thought you would live to see this life.

the quiet suburban home in the countryside in korea.

the warm smell of baby lotion and freshly brewed tea lingering in the air. the sound of your three-year-old daughter, seo-ah, giggling as she kicks off her tiny pink strawberry sneakers by the door.

the little girl's excitement was bubbling over after a long day at daycare.

you never thought you would survive at all to see this life,

or any life outside of comfort,

or any life outside of poverty,

yet here you are.

your hands tighten slightly on the baby carrier strapped to your chest, where byeol is sleeping peacefully, her tiny face nestled against your sternum, breaths warm and steady.

byeol's weight is small but grounding, a reminder that she is real. that this life is real, and you did survive the worst.

you and dae-ho had spent the day running errands, taking turns carrying byeol, rocking her, feeding her, going through the motions of parenthood with the quiet ease of two people who had built a home out of the wreckage of their past.

when you talked to dae-ho's oldest sister, and your sister-in-law, hana, a few months back, she suggested that seo-ah is at an age where she needs more social interaction with kids her own age.

so, dae-ho and you put seo-ah in morning daycare so she can play, start her learning, and make some new mini friends.

today had been a good day.

until seo-ah says something that freezes you in place.

"eomma, we played a new game today at recess!"

seo-ah announces, pulling her backpack off and tossing it onto the floor. the girl's cheeks are flushed with excitement as she bounces on her toes.

you smile, adjusting the strap of the baby carrier, watching as she pulls out a small piece of construction paper with crayon scribbles all over it.

"oh yeah? what game, baby?"

she grins, bright and carefree, completely unaware of the way your world is about to tilt on its axis.

"I think it was called... hm? wait! red light, green light! it was red light, green light!"

your breath catches in your throat.

your hands go still.

your entire body stiffens, as if your muscles are locking up, as if your nervous system is throwing every alarm at once, a tidal wave of ice-cold fear crashing down on you.

red light. green light.

breathe.

breathe.

you can't.

your ears ring.

your vision blurs at the edges.

your heartbeat thunders in your chest, loud and panicked, drowning out the warmth of the home around you.

"eomma?"

seo-ah tilts her head, blinking up at you with wide, innocent eyes.

she doesn't know.

seo-ah doesn't know.

act normal, y/n.

you force a smile, swallowing the lump in your throat.

"o-oh, yeah? who taught you that game?"

your voice feels distant, wrong, like it doesn’t belong to you.

"seonsaengnim said it’s really fun! we played it outside, and i won once!"

she beams, clearly proud of herself.

your stomach churns. nausea twists inside you like a knot pulled too tight.

images flash behind your eyes, unwelcome and cruel.

you remember when you won once, too.

except, you would have died if you didn't.

the sun beating down on your skin. the crack of gunfire. bodies collapsing around you, limp and lifeless. the screams. the silence.

stop. stop. stop.

"eomma?"

you snap back to the present, your nails digging into your palms as you force yourself to focus on your daughter.

on her soft voice, her curious eyes she got from you, the way she’s still waiting for your response.

before you can say anything, dae-ho’s voice calls out from down the hall.

"seo-ah, baby, use your inside voice! your sister's sleeping."

your head turns instinctively.

dae-ho is in byeol’s nursery, gently rocking her bassinet as he hums under his breath, soothing her. t

he sight of him...tall, strong, always steady...should bring you comfort.

right now, you don’t want him to see you like this.

you don’t want to trigger him, too.

"w-why don’t you go wash your hands before dinner, hm?"

you tell seo-ah, ruffling her hair.

she pouts but obeys, skipping off toward the bathroom, humming a song to herself.

as soon as she’s gone, you let out a shaky breath and press a hand to your chest, as if that will somehow slow the frantic beating of your heart.

you close your eyes. try to shake it off. try to remind yourself that this is not then.

this is not the games.

however, your body doesn’t understand the difference.

its been a while since you remembered those games. your brain tries to block that memory all of the time.

today, the memories were clear as day.

your legs feel weak as you make your way to the bedroom, setting the empty baby carrier down carefully before you sit on the edge of the bed.

your hands are still trembling, your lungs still tight.

you need to pull yourself together. you can’t let dae-ho see you like this.

you can’t—

“baby?”

your husband's voice is soft, but it startles you anyway.

you snap your head up, meeting his gaze.

dae-ho is standing in the doorway, brows furrowed slightly, his expression unreadable.

your stomach twists.

he noticed.

of course he did.

you try to muster a small smile.

“hey.”

he studies you for a long moment before stepping forward.

“what’s wrong?”

don’t tell him.

don’t tell him.

you don’t want to see that look in his eyes.

the same look he had the night you both finally got out, the night you collapsed in his arms, covered in blood that wasn’t your own, shaking so violently he had to hold you together.

the night before that when the rebellion happened. when you had to comfort a shaking dae-ho since the gunshots reminded him of his time in the marines.

he had worser PTSD symptoms than you did, if you had to compare.

however, dae-ho is patient.

he crouches in front of you, resting a warm hand on your knee.

"talk to me, baby."

you let out a slow breath, your throat tight.

“seo-ah told me that she--um--played… red light, green light today at daycare.”

he stills.

"it reminded me of.."

for a long moment, neither of you say anything.

dae-ho's fingers flex against your knee, his jaw tightens, his own breathing uneven. the ex-marine's eyes darken in a way that makes your stomach drop.

"oh."

you nod.

"yeah."

a heavy silence falls between you, thick with memories neither of you want to relive.

“i didn’t want to tell you,”

you admit quietly.

“i didn’t want to make you—”

“it’s okay,”

he cuts in gently.

“you can tell me anything.”

you can see it.

the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers curl into fists before he slowly unclenches them.

he’s not okay either. but he’s trying.

just like you.

he takes a deep breath, then reaches for your hands, lacing his fingers through yours.

“she’s safe,”

he says, and you can’t tell if he’s reminding you or himself.

“she’s here. alive. she’s okay.”

you nod, squeezing his hands.

"i know. i just—" you swallow hard.

"it still gets to me."

"i know, sweetheart."

his voice is so soft it almost breaks you.

he moves to sit beside you, pulling you into his arms. the warmth of him, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, is the only thing keeping you from spiraling again.

"breathe with me,"

he murmurs against your hair.

so you do.

inhale.

his chest rises with yours.

exhale.

dae-ho's arms tighten around you.

the two of you sit like that for a long time, breathing together, grounding each other.

you don’t know how much time passes before you finally whisper,

“do you think it’ll ever go away?”

he doesn’t answer right away. then, he sighs, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"maybe not completely but we have each other, right?"

you close your eyes, nodding.

"yeah."

"and seo-ah. and byeol."

his voice is steadier now.

"we survived, baby. we made it. no one is taking anything from us ever again."

dae-ho's words settle into your bones, solid and warm, and you believe him.

you press your face against his chest, soaking in the quiet comfort of him.

the past will always be there, unfortunately, waiting for moments like this to creep in.

you are here alive with dae-ho. together.

alive.

kang family masterlist here

[slut4megantheestallion]

Arcane women x reader who is part of the du Couteau family? Please! I really need it.

Arcane Women x Du Conteau reader Headcannons

Warnings ⚠️: Mentions of violence, family expectations, mentions of alcohol , mentions of combat, angst.

Characters: Vi, Jinx, Caitlyn,Sevika, Mel.

-Vi

●"Damn, sweetheart, didn't take you for the highborn type. Thought you'd be too busy drinking wine with stuck-uo nobles to get your hands dirty."

●Vi doesn't trust you at first. A du Conteau in Zaun? Sounds like trouble. Your family name alone sets off alarms in her head, and she expects you to be just another power-hungry Noxian. But once she sees you in action - fighting with precision, unshaken by the chaos of the Undercity- she starts to respect you.

●She loves sparring with you. Your technique is polished, refined, and deadly, whereas she fights with brute strength and street-learned aggression. You get under her skin when you dodge her punches with ease, smirking as she grits her teeth. "You gonna hit me, or are you just dancing around?" You taunted.

●Vi might not fully understand Noxian politics, but she knows what it's like to have a name that carries weight. If your family disapproves of her, she won't lose sleep over it. "They can come over after me if they want. Won't change a damn thing."

●She calls you "princess" as a joke, especially when you get a little too proper about something. But she loves seeing the ruthless side of you - it reminds her that you're not just some delicate noble.

-Caitlyn

●"The Du Conteau family... I assume you're well-versed in both politics and combat?"

●Caitlyn is intrigued by you. She knows about Noxian nobility and the weight your last name carries, and she's immediately assessing whether you're a threat or an ally.

●She admires your tactical mind. Whether it's tracking criminals or navigating the web of Piltover High Society, you're a strategist at heart. The way you analyze a room, assess power dynamics, and remain composed in tense situations reminds her of herself.

●Your combat skills fascinate her. You move like a ghost, striking with precision and efficiency. If she ever watches you fight, she studies your every movement, fascinating by how different yet efficient your technique is.

●The two of you have intense discussions about justice, power, and the differences between Piltover and Noxus. You challenge her ideals, forcing her to think beyond Piltover's black-and-white morality.

●She's protective of you, even though she knows you can handle yourself. If someone insults you for your Noxian background, she'll shut them down instantly. "Judge them by their actions, not their name."

-Jinx

●"Wait, wait, wait - you're telling me you're some kinda fancy- pants assassin noble? Pfft, that's hilarious!"

●Jinx finds the idea of a Du Conteau hanging out in Zaun ridiculous - and endlessly entertaining. She mocks you at first, calling you "Lady Stabby Stab" or "Dagger Duchess," but once she sees what you can do, her interest skyrockets.

●She loves pushing your buttons. If you're the serious type, she's constantly messing with you, testing your patience. "What happened if I steal one of your fancy little daggers? Ooo, are you gonna assassinate me? Spooky!"

●But deep down, she respects you. You're dangerous, calculated, and not easily rattled. Even when she's at her most chaotic, you don't flinch. That both excites and unnerves her.

●If you ever show a wilder side - reckless, ruthless, or unpredictable - Jinx is hooked. She thrives on chaos, and if you embrace some of that, she'll see you as a kindred spirit.

●She adores the contrast between you and her. A trained, disciplined noble choosing to spend time with a manic, volatile criminal? Now that's a story.

-Sevika

●"Hmph. A noble walking around Zaun? Either you're lost, or you're looking for a fight?"

●Sevika isn't impressed by your name or your staus- Zaun doesn't care about Noxian nobility. What does impress her is strength, amd you? You have that in spades.

●She doesn't waste time with pleasantries. If you want her respect, you have to earn it. A fight is usually the fastest way. If you hold your own, she'll smirk and say, "Maybe you're not just some spoiled brat after all."

●She likes drinking with you. If you can handle strong Zaunite liquor without flinching, she'll give you a nod of approval. If you do flinch, expect some teasing.

●If she sees that you're tired of noble politics and the weight your name, she'll simply say, "Then stop pretending. You don't owe them a damn thing." Sevika doesn't care about legacy - only survival.

●She's fiercely protective once she sees you as her own. If anyone dares to threaten you in Zaun, she'll handle it- violently.

-Mel

●"A Du Conteau? How... fascinating."

●Mel recognizes your name immediately. The Du Conteau are known in Noxian circles, and she loved the intrigue of it all.

●The two of you engage in sharp conversations. Every word is deliberate. Every glance calculated. It's like a game of chess where both of you are five moves ahead.

●She admires your strategic mind. If you play the political game well, she'll be even more drawn to you. Power is attractive, and you know how to wield it.

●She appreciates beauty, and if you carry yourself with grace and confidence, she'll take notice. Expect lingering touches, soft compliments, and knowing smirks.

●"You're family values strength above all else. Tell me, my dear - where do you find your strength?" Mel doest just want you to know your skills; she wants to understand you

●If your family disapproves of your association with her, she's utterly unbothered.

●"Let them watch, I enjoy an audience."