#make sure you're filling it up every once in a while

[nebularsung]

⭑ you're jeno's favourite gift ﹙+18﹚

all that could be heard from that bedroom was soft, breathless whines, muffled moans, the sharp rhythm of skin meeting skin, and the sound of jeno’s voice—low, sweet, and full of reverent praise.

it was jeno’s birthday, and��true to the quiet, homebody heart he had—he wanted nothing more than to stay where he felt most at peace: at home, wrapped in your arms, spoiled by your attention, and fed by your hands. you had made his favorite dishes, laughed with him over wine, curled up in his lap while the candles burned low… but as night fell, his desire shifted.

he wanted his favorite gift of all.

you.

and how could you possibly deny him?

“fuck, baby…” he groaned, voice dropping deeper as he watched the way your body gave in to him. his fingers pressed tighter into the curve of your hips, guiding you back to meet his every thrust, relentless and hungry. “so fuckin’ good to me… always ready for me… mine.”

your face was buried in the pillows, your ass arched high in the air—just how he liked it. the angle let him hit that perfect spot over and over again, and your moans were so high and sweet they came out broken and muffled into the sheets. he’d be smug about it if he weren’t so utterly ruined by the way your body gripped him like a vice, so warm and wet and perfect just for him.

you were going for the fourth round already, but jeno didn’t seem any near to finish what he had started.

he leaned over you, his chest flush against your back for a moment as he kissed your shoulder, then your spine. “can’t believe i get to have you like this…” he whispered, almost to himself. “you make me feel like the luckiest man alive.”

you let out a choked sob of pleasure, and jeno only chuckled softly, hand sliding along your waist, gripping you tighter. “that feel good, baby? you’re doing so well… taking me so good, just like i knew you would. such a good girl for me, even on my birthday…”

you nodded desperately into the pillow, fingers clutching at the sheets as he kept rocking into you with deep, measured strokes now—less frantic, more intense, like he wanted to feel every second of it, draw it out. worship you.

“wanna hear you,” he muttered. “just a little. let me hear my pretty girl.”

you turned your head, gasping, your voice breathy and wrecked. “jeno—feels so good—i love you, love you so much—”

“yeah?” he breathed, hips stuttering slightly at the sound of your voice. “love you too, angel. gonna make you cum so hard. gonna have you creaming all over my cock, just the way i like it.”

and you did.

with a loud, trembling moan of his name, your body tensed beneath him, walls clenching, thighs shaking as the orgasm tore through you. jeno cursed under his breath, hips losing rhythm as he chased his own release, groaning into your back when he finally buried himself deep and filled you up, both of you panting and trembling, tangled in each other’s warmth.

he stayed inside you for a moment longer, letting your bodies breathe in sync, your skin slick and flushed, your heartbeats loud in your ears. then, with a soft kiss between your shoulder blades, he slowly pulled out—watching his seed leaking from you from the previous orgasms—grabbing a warm towel from the nearby dresser to clean you up with the same tender care he always showed.

you whimpered softly, still sensitive, and he murmured a quiet, “sorry, baby,” as he wiped your thighs gently. his hands lingered longer than necessary, though—you could feel how much he loved touching you, even in the smallest ways.

you weren’t sure how long you laid there in jeno’s arms, your limbs tangled, hearts still fluttering from everything you’d just shared. his warmth surrounded you, grounding and intoxicating all at once. you could’ve fallen asleep like that—completely satisfied, safe.

but then you felt it.

a subtle shift in his breathing. the way his hand, which had been resting innocently on your waist, slowly trailed downward, fingers stroking lazy patterns across your hip. his lips were brushing against your shoulder again, softer this time, more tender—like he was savoring every inch of your skin.

you stirred gently, turning in his arms to face him. the look in his eyes made your breath hitch.

“still hungry, birthday boy?” you teased, voice barely above a whisper.

he chuckled, low and warm, but there was heat behind his smile now. “i can’t help it,” he murmured, brushing your hair behind your ear. “you make it impossible to get enough of you…”

before you could respond, his lips were on yours again—slow and unhurried, like he wanted to memorize your taste. he kissed you with reverence, taking his time, tongues barely brushing, the heat building all over again with every slow pull of your lips.

his hand found your thigh, slipping beneath the covers, tracing up until his fingers were skimming the sensitive skin between your legs. you were still warm, still wet, and his breath caught at the feel of you.

“so ready for me,” he whispered, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. “even after all that…”

you nodded, heart thudding. “only for you, jen.”

that’s all he needed to hear.

he guided you onto your back, kissing down your collarbone, then your chest—worshipping every part of you with gentle bites and licks, his name whispered from your lips like a prayer. his hand stayed between your thighs, slowly working you open again, fingers curling just enough to make you gasp.

“you’re perfect,” he breathed against your breast, flicking his tongue over your nipple. “i could do this forever. just touch you, taste you… make you feel good.”

you whimpered softly, arching into his touch, hips rolling instinctively into his hand. “please… want you again.”

he looked up at you from between your breasts, hair slightly messy, lips kiss-swollen. “then take me, baby,” he said, voice thick with affection. “i’m all yours.”

and he meant it.

he slid into you with a deep, slow stroke—your legs wrapped around his waist instantly, pulling him as close as he could possibly get. this wasn’t like the last round. this time, he moved slow, savoring the way your body clenched around him. every roll of his hips was steady, deep, his forehead pressed to yours as he whispered praise between kisses.

“so beautiful… god, you feel so good around me…”

“you’re doing so good for me… fuck, i love being inside you…”

“you were made for me, weren’t you?”

each thrust drew soft moans from your lips, your fingers tangled in his hair, nails grazing down his back. the tension built gradually—less explosive, more consuming. it spread like fire under your skin, until you were trembling beneath him, whispering his name like a promise.

jeno’s hands gripped yours, fingers laced tight as he stared down at you, flushed and breathless. “cum for me again,” he murmured. “just one more, baby. wanna feel you around me one more time.”

you couldn’t even respond. you were already there.

your body locked up beneath him, waves of pleasure crashing through your core as you cried out his name, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming emotion of it all. jeno kissed them away, hips stuttering, then slowing as he came with a deep, ragged moan, burying himself inside you completely, like he needed to mark every inch of you as his.

he didn’t pull away immediately.

instead, he stayed nestled against you, his body heavy and warm, his breath evening out against your neck. your fingers traced along his spine, feeling his heart still racing.

“that,” he mumbled, voice hoarse but full of affection, “was the best birthday gift i’ve ever gotten.”

you smiled, pressing a kiss to his temple. “i’m happy i’m the one who can give you the best gift ever.” he let out a soft laugh, nuzzling his face onto your neck. “happy birthday, baby. i love you.”

he pulled away, looking up at you, soft and glowing, like you’d hung the stars for him.

“i love you too,” he whispered. “so much.”

｜ 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌 𖹭 have i ever said how much i love jen and how much i fucking wanna sit on his nose??? like, respectfully, but how is this man built like that?? his body proportions are insane and his face fuckk his face man..........

★ @lyvhie @spacejip @zhapire

[thekijs]

I do a cheating-chili that I use for burrito filling, but the burrito part takes it past 5 ingredients admittedly. Still, if you want a tasty and filling chili that makes enough for, like, eight people with almost no effort, this is the way.

Ingredients are rice, a meat of your choice, an onion, and 1 can diced tomatoes and 2 cans of beans you like. Kidney beans or pinto beans are traditional, I like black beans too. You'll at least want salt, garlic, and chili powder as spices, but you can do more for sure.

Make some rice - instant rice, uncle ben's, in a rice cooker, on the stove, however you find it easiest to make rice but you're gonna want it to make like 3-4 cups of cooked rice when it's all over, so if you're using a rice cooker or the stove that's about 3/4 of a cup of uncooked rice and then however much water your variety of rice calls for. You can make plain rice, I like to throw a nice spoonful of butter or margarine and a spoonful of chili powder in as it starts to cook before I cover it. Once that's started, maybe 2 or 3 minutes to set up, you've got 15-20 minutes to kill while it cooks (unless you used instant rice of course, which is valid)

Dice an onion, you could skip this if you've got onion powder or don't like chopping onions, but toss it in your pot with a spoonful or two of cooking oil and some garlic. Powder is fine, I buy the minced garlic in oil, you could chop or crush your own, whatever. Have the pot on the stove on medium heat, let the onions start cooking and give them a stir every couple minutes. Meanwhile...

Pick a meat to add, I usually use chicken, but ground beef is traditional, you could use pre-cooked chicken bread strips, stewing beef, bacon, or even skip it to make this vegetarian. You're going to want whatever you picked in nice small pieces no bigger than the last joint of your thumb. Toss it in the pot and let it start cooking with the onion and garlic. Your rice is probably at the 8-10 minute mark now, so we've still got some time.

Add your chili spices. You can just do a premixed chili powder and some salt, I like to get fancy and add chili powder, salt, cumin, paprika, oregano, a tiny bit of cinnamon, black pepper, and cayenne for heat. Mix that all in with the meat and onion and garlic it it's frying up nicely. While it's doing that...

Open a can of diced tomatoes, and two cans of beans. I like black beans and kidney beans, but pinto beans are a classic as well, do what you like. Drain the beans, do NOT drain the tomatoes, and add those all into the pot. Stir that shit up so it's well mixed, turn the pot down to low (it was at medium until now, remember) so it's just bubbling a little bit.

Your rice is probably about done now. Take it off the heat or whatever, and let it sit for five minutes or so to absorb the last of the steam, and then stir it up gently with a fork so it's fluffy. Then, mix the rice right into your bubbling pot to chili if you want something less messy that you can put in a burrito without it dripping everywhere, or just put some rice on your plate and spoon a bunch of chili over it as you like.

Boom, you're set to feed like eight to ten people, or yourself for a week. It'll keep in the fridge for five days or so, and you can freeze portions in a Tupperware or a hefty Ziploc for months. (another great reason to mix the rice in, you get something that isn't sloppy in a freezer bag once it's had five minutes to soak up the liquid and cool down a bit. Definitely let it cool a bit, like 10 minutes, before putting it into anything plastic, you don't really want still boiling chili in a plastic container)

Some shredded cheese, sour cream, and a tortilla make it into a killer burrito, and some shredded lettuce or cucumber slices add a great fresh bit of crunch. It's also awesome with a spoon, in a bowl.

Do any of u have decent recipes that are like 5 ingredients (not including spices) and take 45 mins or less to prepare i gotta stop eating sandwiches for dinner

[vamptizm]

SNOOZE — p. bueckers ii.

pairing: paige bueckers x soraya mensima (oc)

synopsis: rookie paige bueckers enters the league with confidence, charm, and a bad habit of gravitating toward things she shouldn’t want— like soraya mensima, the wings’ respected star and reluctant heartbreaker. soraya’s been here longer, knows better, and refuses to let lines blur... even as paige keeps rewriting them with every smile.

word count: 3939

♯┆ masterlist .ᐟ ★

♯┆taglist (open) .ᐟ ★ @brenwritesss @bueckersbitch @ekisokay @paige05bby @sierrale8ne @ohmybueckers @pboogerswbb @yailtsv @xxloveralways14 @prettygirl-gabi @mariahthealchemist @thaatdigitaldiary @avvwritesstufff

The smell of brown sugar and melted butter filled Soraya's apartment like a warm hug.

It was 7:30 in the morning—far too early for anything serious, but for once, Soraya was up and moving like someone who'd slept well and had nothing pressing on her mind. The kitchen was bathed in soft morning light, pouring through the wide windows and casting a warm, honeyed glow across the countertops. SZA played low from the speaker on the shelf, her voice airy and tender, the bass steady enough to make Soraya's bare feet tap against the tile as she stirred chocolate chips into a bowl of cookie dough.

Her braids were tied into a loose bun, strands slipping out and framing her face, which was still bare of makeup and soft with sleep. She wore one of her ex's old UConn hoodies—oversized and faded—and a pair of shorts that left her long legs free to move as she danced a little, hips swaying to the rhythm of ‘Another Life.’

Below her, Jiggy weaved between her ankles like she was auditioning for a role as a speed bump. The tabby's usually chill attitude had been replaced by something bordering on clingy—rubbing up against Soraya's shins, meowing faintly, then hopping onto the counter like she owned the place.

"Girl, you're bold this morning," Soraya muttered, gently nudging her back down. "One of these days, you're gonna knock a whole tray over and I'm actually gonna cry."

Unbothered, Jiggy blinked her wide green eyes and gave a soft tail flick, sitting down as if to say, ‘yeah okay but you love me.’

Soraya rolled her eyes, wiped her hands on a towel, then picked her up like she weighed nothing. Jiggy let herself be cradled, limbs loose and eyes slowly blinking shut. Soraya swayed with her, arms wrapped beneath Jiggy's fuzzy belly, singing along under her breath.

"I don't wanna be, just a shell of me!"

She spun slowly, barefoot, content. The moment Soraya shoved the tray of cookie dough into the preheated oven, her phone buzzed twice on the kitchen counter. She didn't need to look to know who it was — only a select few had the honor of piercing through her ‘Do Not Disturb’ that early in the morning: her mom, Dijonai... and Lou.

She reached over for the phone, not needing to verify or check the caller ID to know which one of the three it was.

With a soft sigh and a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips, Soraya swiped to answer, switching it to speaker before setting the phone back down next to where Jiggy had just leapt up—her paws light as ever on the marble.

"Bonjour, mon cher," Soraya greeted smoothly, voice still low and rough with morning.

"For someone who claims to hate everything French, you sure love to use it on me," came the familiar, accented voice through the speaker—Lou's words playful, her French lilt thicker now that she wasn't speaking English on the daily. Spain had clearly been good to her.

"That's the beauty of free will, isn't it?" Soraya replied with a shrug as she picked the phone back up, walking toward her bedroom while wiping her hands on a kitchen towel.

"Right, right." Lou let out a breathy laugh, and Soraya could hear the smile behind it. There was always that smile with Lou—even in silence.

For a few seconds, the call settled into a quiet lull. Soraya sifted through her closet for practice clothes while Lou waited—both of them comfortable in the space between words.

Then Lou spoke, voice lighter than before, teasing. "Alright. Let's get straight into it."

Soraya paused, smirking at her reflection in the mirror as she peeled off her oversized tee. "Knew you had an agenda."

"Always. So?" Lou pressed, leaning back against whatever couch she was curled up on, no doubt sipping something expensive and European. "What's your first impression of your new rookie?"

Soraya snorted, tossing a shirt onto the bed. "Which one? Got like three to five this season."

"You know exactly which one I mean."

“Oh, right. Your beloved child.” Soraya rolled her eyes, the faintest grin ghosting her lips. "Wording it like I slept with her or something."

Lou let out a genuine laugh. "I mean—did you?"

"Fuck no." Soraya pulled her tank top over her head. "She was fine, though. Loud. Fucking loves the attention. Nothing impressive or new yet."

"So... still the same," Lou replied, her tone knowing.

"I guess. Walked into the gym yesterday like she was LeBron in a ponytail," Soraya said as she sat at the edge of her bed, tying her sneakers with quick, practiced fingers. "Same obnoxious confidence. Just vibes and volume."

"She is confident. And she hates silence," Lou said fondly. "You of all people should understand that."

"I don't hate silence. I worship it."

"Whatever."

Soraya exhaled a short chuckle, standing back up to return to the kitchen just in time to hear the oven timer go off. She cracked it open with a towel, the smell of warm chocolate and vanilla filling the apartment as Jiggy circled at her feet like a sleepy shark.

Lou exhaled a small sigh. "You sound like you're already mentally preparing for battle. It's not that bad, I promise. At least she's not some new rookie who doesn't know how to exist."

Soraya chuckled as she pulled on her shirt. "Well, at least she's got that."

"Anyway," Lou's voice softened, the playful teasing falling away. "Just take care of her for me, yeah? It's your duty as her vet."

"I'll make sure she doesn't burn out or get too cocky and that’s it." Soraya paused, refraining from rolling her eyes. "She's a grown woman, she'll be fine."

"See? That's what I'm talking about. Take care of her, Soraya. It's your job."

Soraya gave a light scoff, walking back out to the kitchen. "My job is playing basketball. Babysitting was nowhere in my contract."

Lou's voice softened again, but there was still amusement there. "That's what you say now, but I know you'll be her go-to when she needs someone to knock her down a peg. You've got that energy."

Soraya rolled her eyes, but she couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips. "Fine. I'll keep an eye on her. Just don't expect me to be nice about it."

"Never expected you to be," Lou replied. "But you've got this."

Soraya strolled into the locker room, fashionably late as usual, the scent of freshly baked cookies trailing behind her. In one hand, she held a Tupperware container, the lid slightly askew, filled with the warm, gooey treats she had made earlier. She flung her bag into her locker with the effortless grace she was known for, setting the container down on her chair with a quiet clink before speaking, her voice smooth and nonchalant, as if the offer of cookies was nothing out of the ordinary.

"Knock yourselves out," she said, her tone detached. "Don't ask for the ingredients. If you die, you die."

Her words hung in the air for a moment, and the room fell into silence. The rookies and the newest teammates exchanged confused glances—not because of the bluntness of what she'd said, but because someone as composed and stoic as Soraya had just done something so sweet, so unexpected. She baked cookies for the entire team, and it seemed almost out of character, a contrast to the cold, calculating persona she usually exuded. At least to them.

Arike, ever the opportunist, was the first to speak, her hands already twitching with excitement. "Y'all heard the girl." She rubbed her hands together, her fingers crackling with cartoonish enthusiasm, before peeling the lid off the Tupperware. The moment the sweet, irresistible scent hit the air, her eyes practically lit up. "Oh, this shit smells good."

Soraya, still with her back to the room, didn't even turn around when she spoke again, her voice dripping with quiet confidence. "Was there any doubt?"

Her words were more rhetorical than anything, but Nalyssa, unable to resist, answered anyway. "Nah. Nai doesn't shut up about your baking." She grabbed a cookie with the same kind of reverence one might use to handle a rare artifact, passing another to Arike.

The playful exchange earned Nalyssa a smack on the arm from her girlfriend, and Soraya felt the smallest tug of satisfaction at the corner of her lips, the ego boost something she'd never admit, but still appreciated.

With the cookies now scattered around the room, everyone eagerly dug in, savoring the warmth of the treat in their hands, except for one person.

Paige stood off to the side, her gaze fixed entirely on Soraya. She couldn't seem to help herself. The way Soraya's back moved as she stretched, muscles rippling beneath her skin, was hypnotic. Paige's eyes traced the curve of her spine, the way her shirt slipped over her head with the kind of fluidity that made it look effortless. And then—just as naturally—Soraya peeled off her sweatpants. Paige's eyes wandered lower, unable to resist the way Soraya's hips swayed with the simple movement, the way her woxers clung to her figure, accentuating the curves of her ass before she slipped into her basketball shorts.

Paige felt a flush creep up her neck. She hadn't meant to stare, but Soraya had an energy that pulled at her attention.

Suddenly, Soraya's voice sliced through the quiet, sharp and knowing, as if she could feel the weight of Paige's gaze even without looking.

"You on a diet, rookie?"

The question was simple, casual, but the way Soraya said it—no hint of curiosity, no offense taken—told Paige everything she needed to know. Soraya wasn't asking out of genuine interest; it was more of a playful jab, one that made it clear she knew exactly what Paige had been doing.

The younger blinked, caught completely off guard. She snapped her eyes up to meet Soraya's face, heat rushing to her cheeks. She hadn't realized she'd been staring, but now that she was caught, she scrambled to come up with something to say. "Oh… nah. Just waiting for everyone else to go first."

She let out a quiet, internal sigh of relief. 'Good save,' she thought.

Soraya didn't respond with much more than a noncommittal hum, her eyes still fixed on her reflection as she tugged her braids into a tight ponytail, the motion graceful, deliberate. The hum was dismissive, but not rude. She wasn't buying the excuse, but she didn't press the matter either.

Meanwhile, Arike, Dijonai, and Nalyssa exchanged amused glances. They were clearly entertained by the brief, silent interaction between the two, their eyes flicking back and forth between Soraya and Paige, unable to hide their grins.

Finally, Paige couldn't hold out any longer. She grabbed a cookie and took a bite, and the moment the sweetness hit her tongue, she froze. It was as if everything else in the room faded away. The cookie was perfect. The exterior had just the right amount of crispness, while the interior was soft and chewy, the chocolate chips still gooey and warm. It was everything she loved in a cookie—exactly how she imagined it should be.

"Jesus, this is probably the best cookie I've ever had," Paige said, almost breathlessly. She tossed her head back with a satisfied hum, her eyes closing briefly as the flavor exploded in her mouth.

Soraya kept her back turned, her face a picture of calm, but Paige noticed the small, satisfied grin that tugged at the corner of her lips. It was subtle, but it was there. Soraya couldn't hide her satisfaction at the praise, and for a moment, Paige felt as though she had just won the lottery. It was as if Soraya's approval—her smile—was the greatest reward she could ask for.

Practice had barely started when Chris called everyone to half-court, clipboard in hand, whistle between his teeth. The sound cut sharp through the gym, pulling all chatter and leftover cookie conversations to a halt.

"Partner skill drills. You know the routine," he barked, glancing down at the list before rattling off names. "Arike with Dijonai. Nalyssa with Veronica. Paige—"

She perked up slightly, shifting on her heels.

"—you're with Soraya."

A few heads turned. Paige felt it—eyes glancing toward her, curious. Like people were waiting to see what happened when you paired fire with ice.

She jogged over with a lazy sort of swagger, keeping her shoulders loose. The last thing she wanted to do was look rattled, especially not in front of her. Soraya stood by the baseline already, a ball tucked under one arm, a white compression sleeve rolled taut over her left arm, expression unreadable as usual.

Paige gave her a small, almost cocky smile as she approached. "Look at that. Guess we're married for the morning."

Soraya didn't blink. "Guess so."

They started with passing drills—precision and rhythm were everything. But it didn't take long to see that theirs was... lacking. Timing was off. Spacing too. Soraya passed fast and sharp like she always had, with intention and muscle memory behind every flick of her wrists. Paige, meanwhile, adjusted on instinct, still reading her, still trying to catch the rhythm of someone who clearly didn't want to give her anything to work with.

"You always pass this hard in warmups, or am I getting special treatment?" Paige joked after the third zip nearly knocked her fingers back.

Soraya didn't even glance at her. "Catch faster."

Paige let out a quiet breath through her nose. Okay. That’s how it was going to be.

They kept moving. Cut, pass, bounce, drive. Paige was quick, competitive, adaptable, but there was a heaviness to their pairing that didn't exist with anyone else. Soraya didn't speak unless necessary, and when she did, it was all instruction, no warmth. Paige wasn't sure if she was annoyed, testing her, or just naturally this detached.

Still, Paige pushed through it, unbothered on the surface. She tossed in little comments here and there, some cheeky, some borderline sarcastic, just testing the waters. But none of it cracked Soraya's armor.

Until the rebounding drill.

The moment the ball bounced high off the backboard, both players launched toward it. They collided midair—light, but enough that Paige let out a surprised laugh when she landed half off-balance.

"Damn, you don't ease up, huh?"

Soraya steadied her stance and caught the next rebound cleanly, flipping it back out toward the perimeter without a word. Paige caught it, dribbled once, and spoke again, this time a little lower, a little closer, eyes flicking up to catch the other woman's.

"Even when I played against you at the finals, your face didn't change once. You got some award for that? Or is it just, like... natural stoicism?"

That was when it happened.

It was quick—blink-and-you'd-miss-it. But it was there. The tiniest shift in Soraya's mouth, the corner twitching up like she was trying to stifle something. A grin.

And Paige noticed. Her eyes lit up, a triumphant glint flashing through them like a kid who just cracked a safe.

"There it is," she teased, pointing as she bounced the ball once. "I knew you had facial muscles."

Soraya rolled her eyes and shook her head, but it wasn't dismissive. It was amused. Her next pass came a little lighter. Her posture relaxed just enough. When Paige moved, she followed more fluidly. Their feet aligned better, timing smoothed out, spacing fell into sync like they'd been practicing together for months, not minutes.

There was a shift.

Not just in their mechanics—but in the energy between them. The kind of wordless understanding that only existed between players who saw the game the same way, or at least felt it the same way.

And Paige, who had walked into this practice trying to act like Soraya's cold front didn't affect her, now found herself a little too aware of the way Soraya's eyes tracked her movements. Like she was finally, finally paying attention.

They ran another rep. This time, the pass was clean, the give-and-go tighter, faster. Paige pivoted and drove toward the basket, tossing it back over her shoulder just as Soraya cut in, catching it mid-stride and sinking it in one clean motion. No rim, just net.

"Alright," Soraya said quietly as they reset. Her tone had shifted—cool, but not as cold. "Not bad, rookie."

Paige smirked, wiping sweat from her forehead. "Not bad yourself, vet."

There was another flicker in Soraya's eyes, something unreadable but warm around the edges. And though neither of them said it, they both felt it.

It had been a long-ass day. Practice ran heavy—more intensity, more drills, more of everything. And while her body could handle it, Soraya's mind was already clocking out. Social battery drained. Her teammates loud. Music blasting in the background of the locker room. Everyone decompressing in their own way. She just wanted quiet.

A few players had already sunk themselves into the cold tubs in the recovery room, each one fighting through the usual sting of the ice cold water. No one ever really got used to it, no matter how many years of experience they had.

Soraya walked in without a word, a towel slung over her shoulder, and her phone in hand. Her eyes scanned the space once, slow and detached—until they lingered.

She was already in one of the tubs, sitting on the opposite side, arms perched up along the edges, grey tank clinging to her body from being soaked. It hugged her torso and drew attention to her toned stomach in a way that Soraya didn't care to explain. Her hair was pushed back, skin flushed from the cold. She was talking to someone at first, laughing, but her voice faded into background noise as Soraya stared just a beat too long.

She didn't know why she was looking. Paige was attractive—sure—but Soraya didn't mingle with her teammates like that. Not rookies. Not Vets. Not anyone.

Still, when her feet stepped forward toward the tub, she didn't stop them. Without so much as a greeting or a glance, she climbed into the very same cold tub Paige was in, lowering herself in with barely a flinch.

Shorts and a sports bra. That was it.

And when her body met the freezing water, she didn't give anyone the satisfaction of reacting. Instead, she sank into the bench built into the tub, draping one arm across the backrest with the kind of casual dominance she didn't have to announce. Her other hand held her phone, thumb mindlessly scrolling.

Paige blinked once, then twice.

"You just gonna sit there like the cold ain't bothering you at all?" she asked, genuine curiosity in her voice—along with a little awe, her brows furrowed slightly.

Soraya didn't even glance up. "'Cause it's not," she replied dryly, like it was obvious. Of course it was. It absolutely was.

Paige raised her brows. "You kinda scare me a little, y'know?"

Soraya's thumb didn't stop scrolling. "Good."

There was a beat of silence. The water rippled between them. Paige let herself sink further into the tub until the chill made her shiver again.

"It's hot," she murmured then, not even looking at her. It wasn't meant to land like a line. More of an observation. Something honest and low, carried just under the buzz of everyone else's conversations.

This time, Soraya's eyes flicked up—just her eyes, head still tilted toward the screen in her lap. The corners of her mouth didn't move, but her gaze did, locking onto Paige with something unreadable. Curious. Slightly amused. Like she'd heard that a million times but never from someone who said it without trying to impress her.

"You mean the water?" Soraya finally asked, voice dry.

Paige looked at her, one brow raised like seriously? Because just the question was ridiculous.

"You."

A ghost of a grin tugged at Soraya's lips before she could hide it. The same subtle, hard-to-earn grin Paige had pulled out of her once during drills. Then, Soraya locked her phone, tossed it onto the towel beside the tub, and leaned back, letting her eyes shut.

"You're annoying," she muttered. But the thing was—she didn't move. She didn't get out.

And Paige? She didn't take it to heart. Didn't stop looking.

The water was still, save for the occasional ripple when either of them shifted slightly. Paige hadn't said anything for a while, but Soraya could feel her looking.

It was subtle at first—eyes dragging down the line of her throat, lingering at her collarbones, her arms, the way her toned stomach rose and fell so steadily. Soraya wasn't trying to show off, but with how little the sports bra covered, there wasn't much hiding either. She focused on her phone. Pretended not to notice.

Paige, meanwhile, was not pretending at all.

She tilted her head lazily in Soraya's direction, one arm perched on the edge of the tub, bringing her just a little closer. "You always this composed? Even half naked and submerged in freezing water?"

Soraya didn't flinch. "Half naked is crazy. You always this obvious when you're staring?"

Caught—but only barely. Paige smiled. "If I'm gonna admire something, might as well commit, right? I like to take my time."

Soraya finally looked up. Fully this time. Her gaze landed on Paige like a weight, slow and deliberate. Her eyes dragged over her—tank clinging damp to her skin, the curve of her waist, the strong set of her shoulders. A muscle feathered in Soraya's jaw. "Keep talking like that and ima drown you, Bueckers."

Paige smirked, undeterred. "Is that a threat or a promise?"

That—that—earned her the softest exhale of a laugh. Barely there, but there. And that tiny crack in Soraya's armor felt like another win.

Paige shifted just slightly, knees brushing Soraya's under the surface. It wasn't aggressive. Just contact. Barely enough to mean anything—unless you were thinking about it.

And Soraya definitely was. She didn't move her leg away.

Paige noticed.

"You know," the rookie said softly, "I meant what I said earlier. Couldn't tell if you were enjoying the game or plotting murder."

"That's the point," Soraya shrugged. "Makes it easier to win."

"Makes it harder to stop watching you," Paige said, quieter this time.

Soraya didn't respond. Not with words. Her lips parted like she might—but then she closed them, eyes returning to her screen. And yet, Paige could feel it: the shift. The tiny pulse in the air between them. Like if she leaned forward even just an inch, something would happen.

And surprisingly, she almost did.

But Soraya beat her to it by speaking again, flat but with a current running underneath. "If you keep looking at me like that, y'gonna get ideas."

Paige's smile turned slow. Lazy. "Too late."

This time, Soraya didn't even bother pretending to be unaffected. She looked at her—really looked—eyes dragging over Paige's face like she was trying to memorize it. And maybe she was. But then she blinked and the spell broke.

"Don't make this messy," she said, more to herself than to Paige.

And Paige, without missing a beat, leaned back with a cocky little smile. "Who said anything about mess?"

They fell into silence again. Not tense. Not awkward. But charged.

And as the rest of the team laughed and splashed and cursed the cold around them, Paige and Soraya sat still. Too close. Too quiet. Too aware.

[sknyuz]

prompt — “i’m so undeniably screwed for this woman.”

pairing — woozi x reader

genre — fluffy fluff, opposites attract, tiny bit of woozi’s inner turmoil but in a cute way

warnings — light swearing, mutual pining, woozi being emotionally constipated but adorable about it

word count — 600(?) i literally planned longer but my brain farted

note: nonchalant woozi + sunshine reader <3 thank you for this request hehe.

masterlist

he’s watching you again.

not in a weird way. not in a creepy way. probably.

it’s just. you’re laughing. again. and it’s the kind of laugh that bursts out of you like soda fizz, bright and sparkling, and it fills the whole studio. and he’s just—well...

“hyung,” seungkwan says, walking past with his laptop and a raised brow, “you’re staring again.” he sing-songs, rolling his eyes.

woozi blinks, caught.

“i’m not,” he replies, flatly.

“sure,” seungkwan sings, disappearing down the hall.

woozi sighs and sinks further into his chair. you’re sitting cross-legged on the studio couch, scrolling through your phone, earbuds in and completely oblivious to the absolute chokehold you’ve put him in.

and that’s the problem. you always are.

you’re warm, expressive, a walking serotonin shot. you light up every room you walk into and talk with your hands and cry over dog videos and compliment strangers’ outfits just because. you're the type of person who remembers birthdays, texts people good luck before big meetings, and bakes cookies on random tuesdays "just because you felt like it."

and woozi?

woozi is the guy who pretends not to hear compliments because he doesn’t know how to take them. he expresses love through perfectly mixed vocal tracks and buying your favorite snacks and pretending he’s not checking his phone every two minutes waiting for your reply.

and yet you’re here all the time.

you come by the studio even when he doesn’t ask. you bring coffee and snacks and once a tiny plush keychain because "it looked like you and i couldn't not buy it." you ask about his day like you really want to know. you hug him goodbye even though he never hugs back (not properly, anyway).

and sometimes you sit quietly beside him for hours, just vibing, while he works on music. humming under your breath. asking questions about things he thought no one ever noticed. like the way he softens the instrumental under the bridge to highlight the vocals. or how he layers harmonies to make the chorus sound fuller.

you notice everything. and it’s driving him insane.

because he’s not supposed to feel this soft. not when he barely knows what to do with his feelings half the time, not when you smile at him like you know something he doesn’t, like you’re waiting for him to catch up.

“you okay?” you ask suddenly, pulling out your earbuds and tilting your head at him. he startles slightly, coughing. “yeah.”

“you were spacing out,” you grin. “thinking hard, genius?”

he huffs a laugh, turns back to his screen. “something like that.”

you shuffle over and peer at his monitor, chin on his shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world. he doesn’t move. doesn’t breathe. you’re close enough that he can smell your shampoo. something citrusy. fresh. “is this the new demo?” you whisper, like it’s a secret.

he nods.

“can i hear it?”

“it’s not done yet.”

“i don’t care.” you whisper, leaning in close to his ear.

and he sighs, already knowing that he’d lost to you with just one look. he hits play and pretends his heart isn’t doing backflips while you listen with that furrowed brow and soft smile. you always listen like this—like the song is a person you’re trying to understand.

when it ends, you turn to him, eyes wide. “woozi. that’s so good. it sounds like falling in love.”

he snorts, ducking his head. “that’s not what it’s about.”

“still feels like it,” you shrug.

he glances at you, a little helpless. you’re too close. too real. too much.

“you always say the dumbest stuff,” he mutters, but his voice is weirdly fond. you grin at this like you know you’ve won something. “you love it.”

and that’s the thing, isn’t it?

he does.

god help him, but he does. and his grumpy disposition falters as he rubs his palm into his eyes.

“i’m so undeniably screwed for this woman,” he mutters under his breath, almost too quiet to hear.

oh, but you hear it.

you blink, going still. lips part like you’re about to say something, but nothing comes out. instead, you stare at him with an amused look on your face.

his eyes widen slightly, and for the first time in a long time, he feels his composure crack.

“…shit,” he curses, throwing his head back. “did i say that out loud?”

you blink again. then smile, slow and warm and soft enough to melt him right there in the chair.

“yeah,” you say. “you did.”

a beat passes. he opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again.

“…okay.” he pathetically mumbles,

and then you’re laughing. again. that same fizzy, unstoppable laugh, and you bump your shoulder into his and say, “about time.”

he stares at you, and you stare back. then you reach over and take his hand—gently, casually, like you’ve done it a hundred times—and squeeze.

“don’t worry,” you whisper. “seems like we’re both in trouble, then. you make me feel like i got a few screws loose, lee jihoon.”

and woozi, ever the calm, composed, nonchalant musical genius that he is—completely short-circuits.

𐔌 . ⋮ taglist .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ @ateez-atiny380 @alien0n3arth @cuppasunu

join here!

[mafiadad5]

No Strings attached || P.Jisung (PART 1)

˖ ࣪⊹🎸 Rockstar!Jisung x fem!reader (ft. crush!haechan) || PART 2- read here

˖ ࣪⊹🎸synopsis- Everyone's been raving about Black Horizon, and now they're in town for a concert. You never paid them any mind— didn't even know who they were, that was until you discovered that their lead guitarist is your long lost childhood best friend. You're finally reunited, but at what cost?

˖ ࣪⊹🎸genre/warnings- friends with benefits, porn with plot MDNI!, angst, fluff, multiple smut scenes, unprotected sex (don’t do.) oral (m.& f.receiving), fingering, car sex, sex under the influence of alcohol, jealousy, smoking, cursing.

˖ ࣪⊹🎸 w/c- 17.6k

Playlist- Come through and Chill- Miguel, Mascara- Deftones, Fill the Void- Lily Rose Depp, What you need- The Weeknd, Belong To You- Sabrina Claudio, Fallingforyou- The 1975.

a/n- omg omg took me forever. I really wanted to make it one part, but tumblr messed up, so two part series! I really hope u enjoy this and feel the rollercoaster like I did while writing. Love u mwah💋!

══════════════════════════

January 15th.

It started like any other night. You standing in front of your mirror, adjusting the tight ponytail. The soft hum of the fan filled the quiet room as you smoothed your hands over your uniform, ensuring everything was in place before grabbing your bag. Another long, late shift at the bar awaited you. The tips were good, but the exhaustion was there before you had even clocked in.

Setting your things down in the employee locker area, you barely had a moment to breathe before a familiar voice called out behind you.

"Hey Y/n."

You turned, instantly recognizing the warm tone, and found yourself meeting Haechan's eyes.

"Hey Haechan." You smiled instinctively, as if it was second nature.

He leaned against the doorway, his usual effortless charm on full display. His dark hair was slightly messy, his lips in that easygoing grin that always seemed to linger when he was around you.

"Thank you again for covering my shift tomorrow." He said with sincerity in his voice. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Yeah, no problem." You waved him off, though you couldn't help but appreciate the gratitude. "Anything to rake in some extra money."

His eyes lit up in understanding. "For your cafe, right?"

"Of course." You responded without hesitation.

The cafe had been your dream for as long as you could remember. Every extra shift, every tip jar stuffed with crumpled bills, it all went toward making that dream a reality.

Haechan smiled. "I would wish you good luck, but you don't need it. I know you can do it."

For a moment, you forgot to breathe. It always felt like he saw something in you that even you doubted sometimes.

"Aw, thanks Haechan." Your smile grew, warmth blooming in your chest.

Silence stretched between you for a minute too long, the kind of quiet that felt loaded. His eyes held yours, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths.

Clearing your throat, you broke the moment. "Well... um, you should get going. To make sure you're ready for your date tomorrow."

His reaction was instant, an awkward giggle as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Oh yeah. It's not a date though, just going to a concert with my best friend."

"Your hangout." You corrected."Who are you going to see?" You asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

"A band called Black Horizon."

You tilted your head. "Never heard of them."

Haechan smirked. "Yeah, that's typical. They're a relatively new band, but they're gaining a lot of popularity. You should check them out."

"I will." You nodded, making a mental note to look them up later.

He hesitated for a second, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. You could feel it again, that silence that felt loaded,  but just as quickly as it came, it was gone.

"Yeah, I'll see you later." He gave you one last smile before turning to leave.

You watched him go, exhaling softly once he was out of sight.

Haechan had been your coworker for 2 years. He was cute, kind, considerate— everything you wanted in a guy, but no matter how many moments like this passed between you, neither of you ever crossed that line. He didn't make a move, and you never dared to either.

With a deep breath, you pushed those thoughts aside and stepped onto the floor, slipping behind the bar. The night was just beginning.

The bar was buzzing per usual. It never really bothered you—if anything, the flow of customers made the hours slip by faster. There were moments like now though, when the chaos pressed in a little too much.

You turned your back to the crowd, facing the liquor shelf restocking bottles. In reality, you just needed a second. A second to breathe, to let the ache in your feet settle before another round of drink orders came in. The bar was packed tonight, but for once no one was calling your name. At least, not yet.

"Excuse me, Miss?"

You closed your eyes briefly, inhaling deeply. So much for a break.

"Give me a second, sir." You replied, turning around. Your breath caught in your throat. The face in front of you familiar, yet changed.

Your heart stuttered, then pounded. It had to have been, what, six years? Six years since you'd last seen him. Six years of brief thoughts about him, wondering where he was now. You had figured he was off chasing his dreams, too busy to look back, too far removed from your life to ever cross paths with you again.

And yet, here he was.

He blinked, his own surprise mirroring yours. His lips parted slightly, as if trying to confirm you weren't just some trick of the dim bar lighting.

"Y/n?!" His voice was filled with disbelief, his body instinctively leaning closer across the counter.

"Jisung?" You set the cocktail shaker down, barely aware of it leaving your hands.

He let out a breath, shaking his head with a disbelieving laugh. "What a fucking coincidence. I was just thinking about you."

"You were?" Your brows lifted slightly.

"Yeah, totally. I just landed back here after forever. How could my mind not wander to my closest friend growing up?" He grinned, though there was something unreadable in his expression.

You exhaled a small laugh, the weight of the moment pressing against your chest. "That's sweet." You forced yourself to slip back into professionalism, wiping your hands on a bar rag. "What can I get you to drink?"

"Shit—sorry, vodka lemonade please." He settled fully onto the barstool now, elbows resting on the cold counter. "How have you been?"

"I've been good. Just working, saving up." You started mixing his drink, pouring the vodka over ice. "What about you?"

"Life's been good to me lately." He admitted, a lightheartedness in his tone, but his eyes searched yours like he wasn't sure what to say next.

"That's amazing." You smiled, genuinely happy for him. "What brings you back here? I thought you moved away a few years ago and didn't look back."

Jisung chuckled, rubbing his jaw. "Yeah, I did, but I have a concert tomorrow."

You quirked an eyebrow. "Wait hold on. Is it for that Black Horizon group?"

His lips curled into a small grin. "Yep."

You groaned dramatically. "Why does everyone like this band except me?" You slid his drink across the counter.

"Ouch." He gasped, placing a hand over his chest in offense.

"I'm serious!" You laughed. "I've never heard of them, but somehow everyone else has. Even my coworker is going to the concert tomorrow."

Jisung tilted his head, eyes glinting. "You should come. Just to check it out. I bet you'd like it."

You hesitated, shaking your head slightly. "I would, but I have work. Besides, I don't have a ticket."

His response came instantly, a little too eager. "I can get you in—for free."

Your lips twitched into an amused smirk. "Are you trying to sneak me in? I didn't take you for a criminal Jisung."

He laughed, holding his hands up in innocence. "No illegal activity here."

You narrowed your eyes playfully. "Or do you work with the band or something?"

He hummed nonchalantly, taking a sip of his drink. "Something like that."

Your brows furrowed. "Wait, do you seriously work with the artist? That's sick."

His grin widened. "Yeah, the lead guitarist actually."

Your stomach dropped slightly. The realization hitting you. 

"Jisung... you're part of the band?"

He gave you a sheepish smile. "Surprise!"

Your eyes widened. "Are you serious?! That's insane. Is that why you left, to become part of a huge band?"

The excitement was evident in your voice, but as soon as you spoke, something in his expression shifted. His eyes darkened slightly, his playful smirk fading just a little.

"Okay, but let's not forget you left first." He pointed out, his tone a mix of teasing and something else.

Your stomach twisted.

"Jisung—"

"No, I'm serious. I'm still salty about that by the way." He finished off his drink in one last swig, setting the empty glass down with a soft clink.

You sighed, gripping the counter. "Look, it's not my fault my mom withdrew me junior year and cut contact with everyone. I didn't have a choice." Your voice softened, but there was a weight behind your words. "And let's not forget, you were the one who said you never wanted to talk to me again. So if anything, I guess I'm salty too."

Jisung exhaled, running a hand through his hair. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then he cracked a small, lopsided grin. 

"Whatever."

He reached into his wallet, pulling out a twenty dollar bill and sliding it toward you.

"Let's make it up to each other." He said. "Come to the concert."

"I would, but I seriously have to work tomorrow. I'm covering someone's shift, so I can't back out. Sorry." You said, lips falling into a small frown.

Jisung nodded, though there was something unreadable in his gaze. "It's okay." He pushed the twenty closer to you, tapping his fingers against the counter.

"It was nice seeing you Y/n." His voice was quieter this time.

Before you could say anything else, he stood up, slipping away into the crowd.

Six years.

And just like that, he was gone again.

You tried to push the interaction with Jisung out of your mind.

Tried.

Even so, you focused on your work, keeping busy until your boss finally gave you the okay to step out for a break. You didn't hesitate. The moment you were free, you slipped outside, inhaling the cold night air as if it could wash away the weight of anything.

You leaned against the rough brick wall of the building, closing your eyes for a moment, letting yourself just be. Until a familiar voice cut through the quiet.

"You're off work?"

Your eyes snapped open, turning instinctively toward the sound. Jisung stood a few feet away, hands buried in the pockets of his jacket, his expression unreadable under the dim glow of the streetlights.

Your heart jumped just a little. You hadn't expected to see him again so soon.

"Did you follow me out here?" You asked, a smirk tugging at your lips.

He grinned, rocking on his heels. "Maybe."

You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head. "A musician and a stalker. How many more surprises are you gonna hit me with?"

"I never changed." He shrugged.

His words hung in the air, heavier than they should have been. Jisung pulled a box of cigarettes from his pocket, flipping it open with ease.

He tapped one out, sliding it between his lips before angling the box toward you. You glanced at it, then back at him, shaking your head. 

"I quit."

Jisung's eyebrows lifted slightly, but he didn't question it. Instead, he closed the pack and tucked it away.

"And you never changed, huh?" You teased, watching as he pulled a lighter from his pocket.

He rolled his eyes with a quiet chuckle, flicking the lighter open. The small flame illuminated his face for half a second before he lit the cigarette, inhaling deeply. Smoke drifted into the night air as he exhaled slowly, his gaze momentarily drifting before settling on you again.

"You know those things aren't good for you, right?" You said, crossing your arms. "Your words, not mine."

Jisung paused mid drag, giving you a pointed look before blowing the smoke out to the side.

"My words years ago." He corrected. "When you were sneaking around smoking at sixteen."

You scoffed. "Oh whatever. I was young and dumb. What's your excuse now?"

He hummed, rolling his cigarette between his fingers as he considered his answer. "I guess I have none." Another slow inhale... another exhale. "But shit changes."

You eyed him carefully. "That sounds like an excuse."

Jisung smirked. "I don't know, being young and dumb sounds like an excuse too."

"Is there a problem or something?" You asked, tilting your head slightly. "Why did you follow me out here?"

Jisung held your gaze for a second longer before flicking his cigarette to the ground, grinding it out with the heel of his shoe.

"I just wanted to talk, catch up a little." His voice was softer now, more serious. "Is there a problem or something?"

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. "No, but I'm at work. So if you'll excuse me." You started, moving to step past him.

"You should come to my hotel room after the concert." The words tumbled out quickly, like he hadn't meant to say them.

Slowly, you turned back around, raising an eyebrow. "Why?" You tried to sound indifferent, but curiosity was evident in your voice. 

Jisung ran a hand through his hair, exhaling before meeting your eyes again. "Just to catch up."

"My mother taught me not to go places with strangers." You teased, a smirk on your lips.

"Oh, so I'm a stranger now?" He raised an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly.

You didn't answer, just turned away with a small smile, but then his voice cut through the air, lower, almost hesitant.

"I missed you, I can't lie."

You stopped in your tracks as you turned back, eyes narrowing just slightly. "Missed?" You echoed, your tone teasing, but your curiosity genuine.

His gaze met yours, steady now, but serious in a way that made your heart skip.

"Just come."

You hesitated for a moment, searching his face. Then you smirked slightly, turning to walk away. "My number's the same."

Jisung stayed where he was, watching as you disappeared back inside. For the first time in a long time, he smiled—really smiled. Because whether you realized it or not, that was as good as a yes.

══════════════════════════ You stood in front of the mirror, adjusting your ponytail like always. Same uniform, same shift, but something felt off.

Jisung never texted you.

Not a single message, not even a half hearted excuse, just silence.

You told yourself it didn't matter. That after everything—the history, the falling out, you shouldn't have expected anything, but the truth was it did bother you. Not because you were still upset about the past, but because you hated when people made plans and didn't follow through.

So why was there this unsettling feeling in your stomach? Was it disappointment? Annoyance? Maybe a mix of both. Whatever it was, you pushed it down and focused on work, pouring drinks, flashing polite smiles, letting the hours slip by. When your boss finally gave you the okay for a break, you stepped outside, inhaling the crisp night air, trying to clear your mind.

Then, your phone buzzed. Your brows furrowed as you pulled it out of your pocket, eyes flickering to the screen.

Unknown Number

You hesitated before opening the message.

An address. A hotel.

Your mind immediately went to Jisung. You had spent all night forcing yourself to forget, convincing yourself he already had, but he hadn't. He actually remembered. A slow smile tugged at your lips as you locked your phone, stuffing it back into your pocket.

When you finally clocked out, you were exhausted. You looked at your phone. 12:03 a.m. It was late, too late really. The rational part of you told you to go home, take a shower, and go to bed, but before you could make a decision, your phone buzzed again.

Jisung [12:04 AM]: "Are you still coming?"

You hesitated, fingers hovering over your keyboard. You should say no. You should tell him you were tired, that it was late, that catching up at this time was ridiculous.

You started to type out a polite excuse, but then for some reason you erased it.

You [12:06 AM]: "Maybe."

He read it instantly.

Jisung [12:07 AM]: "Well, I'm maybe waiting for you. And I'll maybe wait all night if I have to."

There was something about his answer that made it hard to ignore the curiosity in your chest. Why now? Why did he suddenly want to see you so badly? There was only one way to find out.

And that's how you found yourself standing in front of his hotel room door.

You hesitated for a moment, raising your hand before knocking lightly.

Seconds passed.

Then a full minute.

Just as you were about to turn and leave, the door swung open.

Jisung stood in the doorway, dark hair damp, skin slightly flushed, the faint scent of body wash lingering in the air. His t-shirt clung to his frame.

"Oh, hey." His lips curled into a small smirk. "You came."

You tilted your head slightly, crossing your arms. "Maybe." 

"Maybe." Jisung huffed a small laugh, stepping aside to let you in. 

You walked in, glancing around. The room was simple but elegant, a neatly made bed, a small couch, and a coffee table. But what caught your attention was the massive floor to ceiling window that showed the breathtaking view of the city skyline. 

"Nice view." You murmured.

"Yeah, it is."

You turned, only to catch Jisung watching you instead of the city. Clearing your throat you moved toward the couch, sitting down as he walked to the mini fridge.

"Is it okay if we drink?" He asked, glancing over his shoulder.

"Yeah, for sure." You replied. 

He grabbed a bottle and two glasses, joining you on the couch. The way he moved was effortless, but there was something about the way his fingers lingered as he poured the drinks, something in the way his eyes flickered up at you as he handed you your glass. You clinked your glass against his before throwing back the shot, the liquor burning slowly down your throat.

"So." You started, setting your glass down. "How was the concert?"

Jisung exhaled, running a hand through his damp hair. "It was good. Feels crazy seeing that many people singing along to our songs."

"Must be a wild feeling."

"It is." He leaned back, resting an arm along the back of the couch. "A few years ago, I was just some kid messing around on his guitar. Now, I'm on stage in front of thousands."

You smiled. "That's amazing, Ji. I'm happy for you."

He smirked pouring another round, sliding your glass toward you.

"What about you?" He asked. "What have you been up to?"

You hesitated, then shrugged. "Just working, nothing as exciting as you."

He tilted his head, eyes studying you. "I don't believe that."

"I promise you, my life is pretty boring."

"Doubt it." He murmured, taking another sip.

Silence stretched between you for a moment, like you both didn't know what to say next. 

Then Jisung sighed, swirling the liquid in his glass. "You know... I was pissed when you left."

Your entire body stiffened.

"I don't wanna talk about that."

He studied you, expression unreadable. "Y/n—"

"I mean it, let's not do this."

His jaw tightened, but he didn't let it go. "You disappeared— no calls, no messages. I didn't even know where you went."

You exhaled sharply, gripping your glass. "I didn't have a choice."

"You could've at least—"

"Jisung, stop." Your tone was firm, eyes locking onto his.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then slowly he leaned in, a smirk on his lips.

"Then make it up to me."

Your breath hitched slightly. "What?"

"You heard me." His voice was lower now, gaze flickering between your eyes and lips. "Make it up to me."

Something shifted in the air as the space between you shrank. The hum of the city outside faded into nothing, the only thing you could hear was the distant sound of traffic and the quiet rhythm of your own heartbeat.

You didn't know if it was the alcohol that had you both like this. Yes, you two kissed a few times in the past for fun, but that was when you were teenagers, and... closer. You didn't know what was happening now, but you didn't mind it.

"And how am I supposed to do that?" You questioned, even though you knew the answer. Your voice barely above a whisper as your eyes flickered to his parted lips before meeting his eyes again. 

"You know how." He responded, his hand landing on your knee.

"Maybe, but I want to hear you say it." You responded, lips ghosting over his.

"I don't know." He said, his eyes darkly looking into yours. "I feel like if I kiss you, I won't be able to stop." His hand cupped the side of your face, the distance between you begging to be closed. 

"Then don't." You replied. 

The second the words left your mouth, he was on you, lips crashing into yours like he couldn't hold back another second. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you against him as his tongue slid into your mouth, deepening the kiss until you forgot how to breathe, forgot everything but the way he tasted and how he made you feel.

You climbed on top of him without thinking, straddling his lap as his hands immediately found your hips, gripping you tightly. The kiss grew rougher, more intense—his mouth moving against yours with need, your bodies pressed together.

He broke the kiss, breath heavy against your skin, and trailed rough open mouthed kisses down your neck. Each one sent a jolt through you, making you squirm in his lap. You couldn't help pressing against him, grinding just enough to feel how hard he was beneath you.

His hands moved you against him, slow at first, then harder. You leaned into him, arms wrapping around his neck, your fingers threading into his hair gripping tightly.

He leaned back in, kissing you again messily like he couldn't get enough. His hands slid up from your hips to your waist, grabbing at you like he needed to feel every inch,  one hand slowly slipping lower. The kiss didn't slow down—if anything, it got rougher, more intense.

"We shouldn't be doing this." You muttered, pulling back just enough to breathe, lips brushing his as you spoke. He looked up at you, lips swollen and plump, eyes half lidded. You knew you should stop, but the way he was looking at you made it really hard to remember why.

"Tell me to stop then." He whispered, his lips barely brushing against yours.

You paused, trying to gather your thoughts.

"Exactly." He murmured with a lazy grin before you could respond, pulling you back into a messy kiss, this time his hand slipping under your pants, sliding past your underwear.

His fingers teased your folds, moving in slow circles before slipping one finger past your entrance. You broke the kiss, a breathless sigh escaping as he moved inside, your body instinctively responding to the sensation.

"Fuck, so wet for me." He murmured against your lips, his voice rough. He pulled you back into another kiss, deep and heated, his fingers working you slowly as his other hand slid up to grip your waist keeping you pressed against him.

His finger teased at your entrance before finally slipping inside, making you break the kiss with a soft moan. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense, watching every reaction as his finger started to pump in and out slowly.

You tilted your head to rest on his shoulder, unable to keep the soft moans from escaping as he moved inside you, each stroke sending a rush of warmth through your body. His touch was torturously slow, drawing out every sensation until you were lost in the feeling of him.

"Feels good?" He mumbled quietly, his finger curling deeper inside you, making a soft whimper slip from your lips. 

"Answer me." He pressed, his other hand gripping you tighter. 

"Mhm." You managed to get out, breathless.

"What, you can't speak now?" He teased, his voice low. "Does it feel good? Yes or no?"

"Yes." You whimpered, your hands tangling in his hair as your body reacted to every move, every breath.

"Oh yeah?" He teased, a sly grin forming on his lips. 

He pushed another finger inside, stretching you open with the pressure of his large digits, making you shiver at the feel.

"Oh my god." You moaned, your grip on his hair tightening as his fingers moved quickly inside you. The sound of your arousal grew louder, each thrust of his fingers driving you closer to the edge.

"Fuck, I'm gonna—" You gasped, the words barely making it past your lips as your head dropped to his shoulder. Your body trembled, overwhelmed by the heat coiling tighter and tighter inside you. He didn't slow down, if anything his fingers drove harder, hitting that spot again and again until you were clenching around him. Your breath hitched, your nails digging into his skin as you reached the edge.

"Let's go to the bed." He whispered, his voice low and rough against your ear as you tried to catch your breath. You nodded, still dazed, your body soft in his arms. Without hesitation he lifted you, your arms draped around his shoulders, fingers brushing against the nape of his neck as he carried you. 

He laid you down, eyes dark as he climbed over you, pulling you into another deep messy kiss. His hands moved fast, stripping your pants and underwear, tossed aside without a second thought. He broke the kiss just long enough to undress himself as he watched you, chest rising and falling.

"Are you sure?" He asked, voice low and breathless, his eyes half lidded but locked onto yours.

You nodded, a soft "Mhm" leaving your lips, your body already aching for him.

He kissed you again, slower this time, then he pushed in, stretching you inch by inch. Your breath stuttered, nails dragging down his back as your bodies met, heat curling through every inch of you.

"Fuck, you feel so good." He breathed, voice rough as he sank all the way in. He stayed there for a moment, chest rising and falling just watching you, letting you adjust, letting the feeling of you wrapped around him settle deep. His hands gripped your thighs, thumbs brushing your skin, the heat between your bodies unbearable.

"Tell me when." He murmured, barely holding back, eyes flicking over every inch of you.

"Move." You muttered, barely able to get the word out.

He didn't hesitate. His hips pulled back, then rolled forward again, slow at first. A low groan came from his lips as he set a steady rhythm, each thrust dragging a soft sound from your lips. His hands gripped your waist holding you close, eyes locked on where your bodies met.

"Faster." You whimpered, voice barely above a breath.

His eyes darkened, and he gave you exactly what you asked for. His hips snapped forward with more urgency, each thrust deeper, harder, the sound of your skin meeting filling the room. He moaned softly, his own pleasure spilling out in breathy sounds as he watched you, eyes fluttering, lips parted, taking him so perfectly it nearly drove him insane.

"Fuck." He groaned, one hand sliding up to grip your waist tighter, the other landing beside your head as he drove into you, lost in the way your body pulled him in, begged for more.

He started to move faster, hips snapping against yours with more urgency. He couldn't help himself, your warmth, the way you wrapped around him, the sounds you made, it was too much. His moans grew louder, more desperate, as his rhythm changed just slightly overwhelmed by how good you felt.

His teeth grazed his bottom lip, catching it for a second before letting it slip free, lips parted, breath fast and uneven. His eyes locked on yours, heavy with lust.

"Fuck... I'm close." He said in a low whimper.

Every muscle in his body tightened, chasing that edge as he started to unravel inside you.

"I'm almost there." You whimpered, your voice trembling as your hooded eyes met his for a second before fluttering shut. Your head dropped back against the mattress, fingers gripping the covers beneath you.

He let out a low shaky breath, pulling one hand from your waist and dragging it slowly up your body. He found your hands, lacing his fingers through yours, holding them tightly.

The change in angle had him thrusting even deeper, hitting that spot again, your whole body jolting with pleasure. His grip on your hands tightened, hips chasing your release like it was the only thing that mattered.

Your legs began to shake, trembling uncontrollably as you clenched around him. The sounds falling from your lips grew louder, broken and breathless mixing with the wet slap of his hips against yours. A ring of your arousal coated the base of him, the sight alone pushing him right to the edge.

"Fuck." He gasped, voice catching in a choked whimper as he fell apart, thrusts growing rougher, messier, desperate. He pulled his hands from yours, fumbling to yank your shirt up, needing to see you—needing to finish.

With a few last messy thrusts, he pulled out, hand wrapping around himself. His jaw clenched as he let out a shaky groan, coming across your stomach, his body shuddering as he spilled every last drop.

He collapsed beside you, chest rising and falling rapidly, body still trembling. His fingers gently traced the curve of your waist. His eyes softened as they met yours, a breathless smile appearing at the corners of his lips.

"Are you okay?" He murmured, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. He didn't need to ask, not really, but he wanted to make sure you felt as safe and cared for as he felt in that moment.

You nodded, your own breath finally starting to steady, fingers running over his chest. The quiet of the room felt like everything had slowed, each moment stretching out just enough for you both to catch up with each other.

5:00 AM

Your eyes fluttered open. The sheets were warm, tangled around your legs, and for a brief second you didn't remember where you were. Well, not until you looked beside you.

Jisung. Fast asleep.

You sat up quickly, rubbing the blur from your eyes, heart pounding just a little too fast. You never woke up this early—not naturally at least. Maybe it was your body's way of reminding you that you weren't supposed to be here, that this was real, that it happened.

Lying next to him had felt natural, like second nature, like slipping into an old habit you didn't know you still had. His warmth still lingered on your skin, the faint scent of his cologne clinging to the sheets, wrapping around you.

He looked peaceful like this.

Hair messy, his lips slightly parted, his breathing steady. He didn't look like the Jisung you had been reunited with last night—the one who was cocky, pushing your buttons just enough to get under your skin. No, this was the Jisung you remembered from before. The one you used to sneak glances at in class, the one who made you laugh without trying. 

A part of you, a stupid part of you wanted to lay back down, press yourself against him, bury yourself in the comfort of his presence. Wanted to let him pull you close in his sleep like he used to, wanted to pretend, even for a little while, that none of the years apart had happened. 

You swallowed hard, pushing the thoughts away. This was probably just a hookup to him—one last reckless decision before leaving the city, and maybe that was all it should be to you too. Before you could change your mind, you carefully slipped out of bed, grabbing your scattered clothes off the floor. You dressed quickly, barely breathing, barely thinking, just moving.

Jisung stirred slightly, mumbling something under his breath, but he didn't wake up. You slipped out into the cold, dark morning.

10:04 AM

Your phone buzzed beside you, the screen lighting up against the dark comforter of your bed. You weren't even sure why you reached for it so fast.

Jisung [10:04 AM]: "I had a fun time last night. When can I see you again?"

You stared at the message, fingers hovering over the screen. The easy answer was never. You could leave it at that—ignore him, let this be a one time thing and pretend none of it mattered. 

Another buzz.

Jisung [10:10 AM]: "Can we grab lunch together or something this afternoon?"

Your lips pressed together, exhaling a slow breath. Everything in you screamed that this was a bad idea. That seeing him again after everything would only make things worse, but he wanted to see you, again and maybe that was enough.

You [10:12 AM]: "Yeah, okay."

The restaurant was small, tucked away on a quiet street corner. A place you wouldn't have picked yourself, but the atmosphere was nice. Jisung was already there when you walked in, sitting in a booth by the window. His eyes met yours instantly, and that stupid smile of his tugged at his lips as he waved you over.

"You actually came."

"I said I would, didn't I?" You replied, sliding into the seat across from him.

"Yeah, but you also left me alone in bed this morning, so I wasn't sure."

You huffed, shaking your head. 

"What? It was kinda tragic." He grinned, leaning back in his seat. "Woke up cold and abandoned."

"Tragic, really?" You murmured.

"Devastating honestly." He sighed dramatically, then smirked. "Thought maybe I imagined the whole thing."

He didn't. You knew that. You both did.

"You didn't." You said dryly, picking up the menu. 

He chuckled, eyes still fixed on you.

"So." He said, tilting his head slightly. "What do you recommend? This was your idea after all."

"Excuse me? You invited me."

"Yeah, but you said yes."

"Which makes it my idea?"

"Exactly." He smirked.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the small smile that slipped through. It felt familiar, like nothing had changed. It was in the way his gaze lingered on you a little too long, the way his fingers tapped the table, like he was thinking of saying something but holding back. It was also in the way you couldn't help but steal glances at him, like you were trying to find something in his expression that wasn't there before.

The waiter came, and you ordered, the momentary distraction shifting the mood back to something lighter for only a split second.

But then—

"Why'd you leave?"

Your hand stiffened around your glass.

You didn't look up. "Jisung."

"I know, I know." He said, rubbing the back of his neck. "You don't wanna talk about it, but—"

"But nothing." Your voice was sharper than intended, but you didn't soften it. "I told you I don't want to talk about it." 

His jaw tensed, eyes searching yours for something, but he exhaled and leaned back.

"Fine. No deep shit today." He paused, then smirked. "But you can make it up to me later."

Your breath hitched. "Jisung—"

"Relax." He grinned, reaching for his drink. "Just a joke."

It wasn't, but you let it slide.

"So, what's next for you?" You asked, shifting the conversation.

Jisung's smirk faded slightly, his fingers tapping against the table. "Heading to another city tomorrow. Last stop on the tour."

"Oh."

You didn't know why that answer made your chest tighten. It wasn't like you expected him to stay, it wasn't like this changed anything.

"You gonna miss me?" He teased.

"Not even a little."

He gasped dramatically. "Liar."

"Delusional."

"You wound me, Y/n."

You laughed, shaking your head. 

Lunch continued, and despite the underlying tension, it was... good.

You laughed more than you wanted to. Fell back into old habits, old inside jokes. For a moment, it almost felt normal, but as you walked out of the restaurant together reality hit. Jisung was leaving and you had no idea if, or when you'd see him again. He seemed to read your mind because he gave you a small smile. 

"You know, if you ever feel like seeing a Black Horizon show, I'll get you in."

"Oh, so you're offering me free tickets now?"

"I always was."

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head. The goodbye hovered between you. Neither of you wanted to say it, but it was inevitable.

"Goodbye Jisung."

His eyes softened slightly, fingers twitching like he wanted to reach for you, but stopped himself.

"Yeah." He murmured. "See you around."

But as he walked away, you couldn't help but wonder— was this really the end?

══════════════════════════

It had been about a month since Jisung left, and honestly, you had forgotten all about him.

Well—partly.

His number still sat in your phone, not saved, but memorized enough that your eyes lingered over it sometimes. Sometimes you caught yourself staring at your screen, wondering if you should reach out, if you should at least say something, but you never did, never could. It was better this way, he should stay in the past—strictly.

It was time to focus on your future.

"You okay?"

A voice knocked you out of your thoughts, and you turned your head.

Speaking of the future.

"Yeah Haechan, I'm good. Just thinking." You flashed a small grin, trying to shake off the moment.

He tilted his head slightly, studying you. "About what?"

"Nothing you'd be interested in." You grabbed your washcloth, running it over the counter, focusing a little too hard on the streaks left behind.

"I'm interested." His response came quickly.

When you looked up, his eyes were locked onto yours, a grin forming at the corners of his lips. The moment stretched just long enough for warmth to creep up your neck before you turned away, cheeks feeling a little too hot.

The bar was practically empty now, the usual hum of voices gone, closing time. You always liked this part of the night—the slow, quiet moments when it was just the two of you finishing up, the outside world feeling distant.

"Just about life, that's all. Nothing I can really put into words right now." You finally answered.

Haechan nodded like he understood, turning back to organize the glasses behind the counter.

"Is it something you can put into words later?" He asked after a second. "Outside of work, maybe?"

His voice was quieter now, almost like the words slipped out before he could think twice.

Your hands froze mid wipe.

"What did you say?" You asked, turning to face him.

Haechan had his back to you, placing the last glass on the shelf, but when he turned around his lips were pressed together, cheeks puffed out slightly like he had been caught.

"Huh? I didn't say anything." His voice was light, but there was something a little nervous about the way he scratched the back of his head.

You squinted at him suspiciously. "I swear you said something. I must be imagining things—I'm exhausted." You giggled, shaking your head, but you didn't miss the way he let out a small breath of relief.

"Yeah, I get it honestly." He wiped his hands on a towel, eyes scanning the room before nodding in satisfaction. "Looks pretty good in here, I think you're good to go."

"Are you not coming with?" You asked, genuine concern slipping into your tone.

"Nah, the boss texted me and asked me to check out the security cameras since I'm the only one who knows how to work them."

You frowned. "I can learn—"

"I'm good, swear." He cut you off quickly, shaking his head. "Go home and get some rest. I'll see you in a few days, yeah?"

"Maybe tomorrow. The boss needs me for the afternoon shift, so we'll run into each other most likely."

Haechan sighed, his lips forming into a smile. "You've been working back to back Y/n, you need a break. Take tomorrow off— I'll cover you, I like working Monday anyways."

"No, it's okay, swear. I need the money anyway. It'll all be worth it when I have the—"

"Cafe, I know." He finished for you, his smile growing.

You laughed, shaking your head. "Yeah, sorry."

"No need to be sorry, I love hearing about it." His voice was soft, but firm. "But you're gonna be burned out by the time you open it if you keep working like this."

Before you could protest, he reached into his pocket pulling out a crisp hundred dollar bill and holding it up.

"Take a break Y/n."

Your eyes widened. "Haechan, I can't accept this."

"Yeah... I think you can." He shifted on his feet, his smile turning a little awkward, like he wasn't sure if this was too much. "Just... think of it like an early birthday gift, I guess."

"First off, my birthday is in 3 weeks. Second, how did you even remember that?" You asked, exasperated.

He raised an eyebrow, pressing his lips in a line. "It happens every year, kinda hard to forget."

You stared at him for a moment before sighing. "Okay, okay. I'll take the day off, but keep your money—seriously."

Haechan pouted dramatically. "So you're rejecting your gift? Wow, okay, I didn't know you hated me."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Fine." You grabbed the bill from his hand, rolling your eyes. "Thank you for the three week early gift, kind sir."

"You're welcome, madam. There's more where that came from." He smiled brightly.

"There better not be." 

His smile softened. "Well, I'll at least get you a little something more on your birthday. Even though you shouldn't set foot in this place on your birthday."

"Trust me, I won't, but the day after? I can't promise anything." You shrugged playfully.

"Well, I'm afraid I can't stop you that time, but I'll make sure I'm scheduled so I can give you your gift." He smiled comfortably.

"Okay, I'll be waiting on it."

Your eyes met his, and for a split second, it felt like something hung in the air between you, but before it could settle Haechan cleared his throat.

"Well, you should head out."

"Yeah, okay." You nodded, stepping away to grab your stuff from the back.

When you returned to the front, Haechan was still adjusting bottles on the shelves.

"I'll see you later."

He turned, a smile on his face. "See ya."

You pushed the door open, stepping into the cool night air. The smell of cigarettes hit your nose. Familiar... too familiar.

Before you could process it, a voice came from behind you.

"You're off work?"

Your stomach dropped. You turned slowly, eyes locking onto Jisung.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

Jisung stood there, cigarette dangling between his fingers, dark eyes flickering over you.

"Well, I wanted a drink, but it looks like you're closed." He peeked through the glass doors before returning his gaze to yours.

Your arms crossed tightly. "Jisung, seriously. What are you doing here? I thought you were gone... for good."

He tilted his head. "I said I was going to another city for a stop, not that I was gone forever."

You narrowed your eyes. "I don't know, the way you said bye made it seem like—"

"I said see you around." He cut you off. "You said bye. Honestly thought you'd disappear again before I came back."

Silence.

You exhaled sharply. "Goodbye, Jisung." You turned to walk away.

"Wait. I came because I wanted to see you again. Don't act like you don't want to see me too."

"I don't." You shot back, rolling your eyes, your arms folding tightly across your chest.

His expression flickered, just for a second before he scoffed. "Why are you so damn mean all of a sudden? This new personality is seriously unlikable."

Your eyes narrowed. "I don't know, maybe because we haven't been friends for, I don't know—six years? So yeah, I've changed, and I'm sorry you don't like it." Your words were sharp, cutting.

"I'm trying to like it, but you're not making it easy." His voice was firm, frustration creeping into his tone as he leaned forward.

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head. "It's literally the second time you've seen me Jisung, relax. You're acting like you've been chasing me down for years."

"You left first, yet I'm the bad guy for trying to reconcile?" He spoke, jaw clenching.

Your stomach twisted, irritation bubbling up.

"You don't want to reconcile, you want to hookup. Which was a one time thing by the way." You snapped, crossing your arms. "What happened to gentlemen who take you out to dinner." You said rolling your eyes.

Jisung blinked, tilting his head slightly. For a moment, you thought you'd struck a nerve. 

"I will."

His voice was different now, lower.

Your brows furrowed. "What?"

"I didn't know you wanted to, but I will." His eyes met yours.

You huffed, shaking your head. A short exasperated laugh escaped you, like you couldn't believe what you were hearing. "Nah, you're good." 

But Jisung didn't let it go.

"No, send your address." His voice softened slightly, but the determination was still there. "You want me to take you out to dinner? I'll take you out to dinner."

"Right." You scoffed, lifting an eyebrow. "I bet you will." You said sarcastically, turning away from him, walking quickly. 

And he didn't call after you, didn't try to stop you, but you could feel his eyes on you.

══════════════════════════ You sat on your couch, phone in your hand, your knee bouncing slightly as you stared at the empty message thread. This was a bad idea, such a bad idea, but your fingers hovered over the keyboard anyway.

Jisung had gotten under your skin the way he always did—effortlessly. You could still hear his voice, see that teasing smirk he always wore when he knew he had the upper hand.

"You want me to take you out to dinner? I'll take you out to dinner. Tomorrow."

You huffed, this wasn't some big deal—it was just dinner, just food. You felt that you should just ignore it, let it go, prove that he didn't still have this stupid, frustrating hold on you. But instead, before you could overthink it, you typed out your address and hit send.

It took less than a minute for the read receipt to pop up. 

Jisung [6:24 PM]: "Oh? Someone came to her senses."

You rolled your eyes.

You [6:25 PM]: "Shut up. Are you picking me up or what?"

Jisung [6:26 PM]: "Relax Y/n. I'll be there at 8."

You could practically hear the cocky tone in his voice just from the text. This was going to be such a mistake.

Jisung pulled up in front of your apartment exactly at eight, which was surprising considering his usual habit of running late.

He rolled down the window, resting his arm on the door as he looked at you with a smirk. "Look at you, actually waiting outside for me."

You gave him a dry look, tugging the car door open. "I swear to God Jisung—"

"Ok, ok." He laughed, unlocking the door fully. "Get in before you change your mind."

The drive to the restaurant was... normal and that in itself was strange. There was no arguing, no sarcasm, instead, the conversation flowed naturally. He talked about the last stops of his tour, about how much he thrived on stage, but hated how exhausting the traveling was. You mentioned how much the city had changed since he left—how certain streets felt unrecognizable now, but some places stayed exactly the same.

By the time you reached the restaurant, you weren't sure what to expect anymore, but when you sat across from him, your menus open but untouched, Jisung leaned back in his chair and smirked. "Alright, let's talk about you."

You raised an eyebrow. "What about me?"

"Everything." He said simply, tapping his fingers against the table. "What have you been up to? What do you do when you're not pouring drinks?"

"I work. I go home. That's pretty much it." You said.

"Bullshit."

"It's not bullshit."

"No, see, that's bullshit." He leaned forward slightly, eyes locked onto yours. "You never just work, you always had something else going on. So?"

You hesitated, your fingers tracing the condensation on your glass. You weren't sure why you felt reluctant to tell him—maybe because it was personal, and you weren't ready to hand him pieces of yourself again, but still, you sighed and gave in.

"I've been working on opening a café."

Jisung blinked once, before letting out a scoff of amusement. "I knew it."

"Knew what?"

"Knew you wouldn't let that go." He shook his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You were obsessed with that idea when we were younger."

You frowned slightly. "Yeah, now I'm actually making it happen."

Jisung tilted his head, his smirk fading into something unreadable. "Why didn't you just say that earlier?"

You looked away, your fingers still trailing along the glass rim. "I don't know, you've been gone for years. I figured it didn't really matter to you."

His expression flickered, but he didn't immediately snap back with some sarcastic remark. He leaned back, watching you carefully. "Don't do that."

"Do what?" You asked, glancing up.

"Talk like I don't know you at all anymore." His voice wasn't teasing anymore. It was steady, a little softer than before. "Like I didn't spend years listening to you go on about this."

You cleared your throat. "Well, it's happening now. I have a location and the last bit of funding."

Jisung exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. "Damn. You really pulled it off."

"Trying to." You corrected.

His lips curled slightly. "I'd go."

You met his gaze, eyebrow raised. "You better."

For a while, the conversation kept its natural rhythm. The teasing was still there, but it was balanced by genuine curiosity. It almost felt like nothing had changed. 

"How's your mom?"

Your expression dropped for a small second as you reached for your drink, stalling with a small sip. "Huh?"

"Your mom." Jisung repeated, tilting his head slightly. "How's she doing? I should stop by, say hello."

You let out a short, forced laugh. "Oh, I don't think she'll be too happy to see you."

Jisung's easy expression faltered slightly. "Huh?"

"Oh, no I'm just saying that she probably just doesn't want to see you." You said, a forced smile on your face as you brushed it off.

"What do you mean?" He questioned. 

"Nothing, just... I don't think she really cares about catching up with you, she doesn't really like having company y'know?" You said, keeping your voice casual. 

His fingers tapped lightly against the table. "Yeah, I understand. Why do I feel like you're leaving something out though?"

"I'm not." You said, forcing a small smile. "Seriously, it's nothing."

Jisung studied you, his gaze sharp, like he was picking apart the way you avoided eye contact.

"Does it have something to do with you leaving without telling me anything?"

Your shoulders stiffened. "Jisung, stop. Seriously."

"No." He pressed, his voice low. "I feel like I deserve to know—"

"I said stop."

The words came out sharper than you intended, a little too loud. A couple at a nearby table glanced over. 

Jisung leaned back slowly, raising his hands slightly. "Fine."

But the mood had already shifted.

Jisung cleared his throat, shifting slightly. "So... did you ever get good at baking?"

You blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"Baking." He repeated, his voice forced light. "You used to suck at it, burnt cookies every time."

You let out a small, barely there laugh. "I got better."

Silence stretched between you. Jisung drumming his fingers against the table before trying again. "So, uh... do you live alone?"

"Yeah."

"Nice place?"

"It's alright."

"Any pets?"

"Nope."

Another pause.

He let out a slow breath. "Still listen to the same music?"

"Mostly."

"What happened to that one band you were obsessed with?"

"They broke up."

Jisung sighed, rubbing his jaw. "Okay, you gotta give me something here. I'm trying, but you're shutting me down."

You finally looked at him, shrugging.

He studied you for a second, then nodded, pushing his chair back. "Let's go."

The ride was quiet, the weight of the earlier conversation lingering between you both. Jisung pulled up in front of your apartment, resting his hands on the steering wheel.

"Okay, bye." His voice was flat, casual...too casual.

You glanced at him. "You're not coming in?"

He raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking up slightly. "Why would I need to come in?"

His tone was teasing, but there was something beneath it, like he was testing the waters.

You smirked, tilting your head slightly. "Come on."

Jisung stepped inside, hands shoved into his pockets as he looked around, taking in the space.

"This is a nice place." He said, his voice casual, but there was a hint of genuine interest behind it.

You huffed, kicking off your shoes by the door. "Yeah right."

"I'm serious." He replied, trailing after you as you walked into the living room.

You turned to face him, arms crossed. The air between you felt... off balance. Like you both knew where this was going, but neither of you wanted to be the first to say it.

"Would you like a drink?" You asked, your voice a little quieter now.

"Naw, I'm good." His reply was smooth, but his eyes never left yours.

Silence stretched between you, before you finally broke it.

"Okay." You said, the word lingering in the air.

Jisung raised an eyebrow watching you carefully, waiting.

You swallowed, exhaling softly. "We're on the same page here, right?"

His lips twitched slightly, like he was holding back a smirk. "I don't know, maybe. What are you thinking?"

His voice was lower now, he already knew what you were thinking, but wanted to hear you say it.

You hesitated for only a second before stepping closer. "I don't know." You admitted, your fingers brushing against the hem of your shirt. "But I think we should stop talking about it and make it happen—only if we're on the same page, of course."

Jisung's smirk deepened as he took a slow step forward, closing the space between you.

"Oh?" His voice was teasing, but his eyes had darkened slightly, his gaze locked on yours. "What happened to it being a one time thing?"

You felt your pulse quicken, but you kept your expression steady. "I mean... if you're not interested, that's—"

Before you could finish Jisung interrupted you, his lips crashing against yours, his hands finding your face, fingers threading into your hair as he pulled you in like he'd been waiting for this. You barely had time to react before your hands instinctively moved to his waist, gripping onto him and pulling him even closer, surprising him slightly.

He broke the kiss for just a second, his breath fanning over your lips as he whispered. "I am."

Then his lips were on yours again. You truly thought that was going to be the last time, but first it started with him appearing in your notification center. 

Wednesday, 2/19

The first time was impulse.

You were in the middle of getting ready for work, standing in front of your mirror, smoothing out your shirt when your phone buzzed.

Jisung [6:47 PM]: "Hey, wyd tonight?"

You stared at the message, your fingers hesitating over the keyboard for a moment before you responded.

You [6:49 PM]: "Work, why?"

Jisung [6:50 PM]: "Can you come over after?"

It would be the last time. You'd make sure of it.

You [6:52 PM]: "Okay, but this is the last time."

Lying to him was one thing, lying to yourself was another because your mind kept drifting back to him—to the way he touched you, the way he felt.

Friday, 2/21

By the third time, it wasn't impulse anymore. 

You were curled up on your couch after a long shift, staring at your phone, fighting yourself over sending a text you shouldn't be sending, but then you did.

You [10:23 PM]: "Have you left yet?"

He opened it instantly.

Jisung [10:23 PM]: "No, why?"

You could still back out or you could do the exact thing you promised yourself you wouldn't.

You [10:24 PM]: "Do you want to come over?"

The moment you hit send, a wave of shame settled in your stomach. You shouldn't want this.

Jisung [10:24 PM]: "Of course, I'm on my way."

Saturday, 2/22

Jisung was leaving soon. This thing—whatever it was, would be over, and you'd be able to return to normal.

Jisung [4:19 PM]: "I leave tomorrow. Can I come over to see you before I go?"

You read the text twice, then a third time, before finally responding.

You [4:22 PM]: "You were just here yesterday lol."

Jisung [4:23 PM]: "I know. Just want to hang out and say goodbye. Maybe we can watch a movie?"

You exhaled through your nose, shaking your head. 

You're not stupid.

You [4:24 PM]: "Right... watch a movie and say goodbye."

Jisung [4:24 PM]: "I'm serious."

You didn't believe him.

You [4:26 PM]: "Whatever, just come over."

Jisung showed up at your door, a bag of takeout in one hand, a smug grin on his lips.

"Brought food." He said simply, stepping inside.

The two of you settled onto the couch, the movie playing in the background, though neither of you were really paying attention. This was the most casual hangout you'd had since running into him weeks ago. 

Until it wasn't.

Until his hand drifted to your thigh and stayed there.

Until your gaze lingered on his lips longer than it should have.

Until his fingers traced small circles against your skin, slow and teasing, like he was daring you to acknowledge it.

And then you did.

And then his lips were on yours again.

And then you were leading him to your bedroom.

It felt like a never ending cycle, something you should have been able to stop but somehow never could.

It wasn't even about the number of times—four, maybe five. It was the way it felt natural, even when it shouldn't. Especially when you considered that this was Jisung. Your childhood best friend, the same person you could never see that way.

And yet, here you were.

Again.

You lay beside him, his arm draped lazily over your waist, the sound of his steady breathing filling the space around you. You lifted your head slightly, resting your chin against his bare chest.

"So, um." You started, voice softer than intended.

Jisung hummed, eyes barely opening as he tilted his head toward you.

"What is... this?" You asked.

His brows furrowed slightly, but he didn't look surprised.

"I don't know." He said, his voice groggy but calm. "What do you want it to be?"

You hesitated before flipping the question back on him.

"What do you want it to be?"

He let out a quiet laugh. "I asked first."

You sighed, playing with the hem of the blanket. "Well, I know that I've had a good time with you."

"I agree." He nodded.

"But."

His eyes narrowed slightly, watching you closely.

"I think we should keep this... platonic."

Jisung's lips parted slightly before he let out a short, disbelieving laugh.

"Platonic?" He scoffed. "I'm in your bed with no clothes on for the, what, third time this week—and you want to keep it platonic?"

You smirked slightly, shaking your head. "Not like that, Jisung."

His lips quirked up, but there was something else behind his expression now.

"This, but just... no titles, no relationship, no... feelings."

Jisung's grin faded for just a second. It was quick, so quick you almost missed it.

"So just friends?" He asked, voice unreadable.

"Right." You nodded, giving him a small smile.

There was a pause, then he exhaled, shaking his head with a smirk. 

"Sorry, but I thought that's what this was in the first place."

You searched his expression, trying to decipher whether or not he meant that.

"I never doubted that." You said quietly, watching the way his grin faltered just slightly. "But I just want to make sure it's in the air, that we're on the same page."

Jisung held your gaze for a second longer before nodding. "We are. No titles, no relationship, no feelings." 

"Got it." You smiled. "Now, I think it's time for you to leave." You added playfully.

Jisung clutched his chest, sucking in his teeth dramatically. "Ouch."

"Stop." You rolled your eyes. "I don't mind, but if you're anything like how you were years ago, then I know you need to go prepare to leave tomorrow."

"Whatever." He sighed, getting out of bed and getting dressed.

You walked him to the door, leaning against the frame as he lingered for a moment.

"When am I gonna see you again?" He asked.

"I could ask you the same question."

Jisung tilted his head slightly. "No clue." He frowned a little, then forced a small smile. "But I'll at least try to come for your birthday in a few weeks."

Your eyes flickered in surprise.

"You—"

"Remembered?" He raised an eyebrow. "Yes."

A small smile tugged at your lips.

"Hey, you can't blame me." You teased.

Jisung gave you a long look, like he wanted to say something—something you didn't want to hear. Instead, he exhaled through his nose and nodded.

"Safe travels and good luck with your band." You said.

"Thank you. I'll text when I make it back."

You paused, then nodded. "Cool."

"Cool?" He repeated.

"Yes Jisung. Goodbye."

He chuckled. "See you later."

Sunday, 2/23

Back to routine. Same shift. Same uniform, except this time, your phone buzzed.

Jisung [11:45 AM]: "Hey, I made it back. Whatchu up to?"

══════════════════════════

It was the usual tonight—customers flooding in, the hours passing by, keeping you busy.

By the time closing rolled around, it was just you and Haechan, wiping down the counters, stacking chairs, and finishing up the last of your closing duties.

"Happy birthday Y/n!" Haechan suddenly spoke, glancing at his watch before flashing you a grin.

You looked up from the register, momentarily surprised before smiling. "Thank you."

"What are you doing tomorrow—well, technically today?" He corrected.

"Just going out with family." You replied.

"Oh, nice." He nodded, setting the last of the clean glasses in place before turning to you. "You know, it's funny—I could've just brought your gift today."

You giggled, shaking your head. "Yeah, I don't know why you didn't."

"Guess I wasn't thinking." He admitted with a small chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "You're still working tomorrow, right?"

"No? It's my birthday tomorrow." You replied, stretching your arms with a grin.

Haechan cocked his head at you. "It's your birthday today."

You blinked, realizing he was right. Midnight had already passed.

"Oh, right." You laughed at yourself. "Sorry, my brain's fried."

"You need sleep." He teased. "But that means, yes—you're working tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I'll be here." You confirmed.

Haechan grinned. "Then I'll bring your gift tomorrow. The boss said I can work, so it's just gonna be the two of us."

"Sounds good to me."

With that, you finished closing up, locked the doors, and parted ways for the night.

The moment you stepped into your apartment, exhaustion finally hit you. You kicked off your shoes, sighing as you tossed your keys onto the counter, but before you could even change, your phone buzzed from inside your bag.

Jisung [1:07 AM]: "Happy birthday."

You smiled a little before responding.

You [1:08 AM]: "Thank you!"

A few seconds later, another message popped up.

Jisung [1:08 AM]: "I'll be there soon to take you out."

You [1:09 AM]: "Not today, already got something planned."

He didn't respond right away, but when he did, it was short.

Jisung [1:10 AM]: "Noted. I'll lyk."

You exhaled softly, locking your phone.

The past few weeks with Jisung had been... unexpected.

You weren't together, but somehow he was more present in your life than ever. You called each other almost every day, talking until one of you fell asleep. You texted constantly, sometimes about everything, sometimes about nothing. Even at work you found yourself sneaking replies between shifts, only to find out he was doing the same, sending you snippets of whatever he was recording or doing that day. So it wasn't really a surprise when your phone rang again the next day later that afternoon, just a few hours before your shift.

"How can I help you Jisung?" You said, holding the phone between your shoulder and ear.

"Ouch." He gasped dramatically. "That is not how you greet the person taking you out tonight."

"Well, thank god you're not the person taking me out tonight, because I have work."

"Y/n, no." He groaned, dragging out the word in a whine.

"Jisung, yes." You mocked his tone. "There's nothing I can do about it."

"Can't you take off? Get someone to cover you?" His voice had shifted from dramatic to genuinely pleading now. "I leave tomorrow, I have work to handle. I have a job, remember?"

"Yes, I remember. Do you remember that I have one too?"

"Please Y/n." His voice softened, making you rethink your decision. "I'm coming for you, to spend a birthday with you—something I haven't done in a while. Let me."

You paused, your lips parting slightly. A long silence stretched between you both before you finally exhaled.

"Let me call you back."

"Y/n, wait—"

"Shh, I'll call you back." You hung up before he could argue.

You scrolled through your contacts, clicking on Haechan's name. The phone rang a few times before he picked up.

"What's up?" He answered, his voice slightly winded like he'd been running around.

"Are you busy?" You asked.

"Yeah, a little, just at work. What's up?"

You bit your lip. "Do you think you can cover me tonight?"

The line went quiet.

You frowned slightly waiting for a response, but when he finally spoke, his voice was noticeably different.

"Um... I don't know. I'll be by myself on a Friday night, that's a lot."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry. You were just the first person I thought of." You admitted. "But you could find someone else to help, right?"

"I could, but it's gonna be hard on such short notice."

"Maybe not." You countered. "People always want extra shifts. I got covered ten minutes before a shift once."

There was another pause.

"Right." He murmured, his tone unreadable.

Guilt spread through your stomach. "I'm sorry, these birthday plans are severely last minute. You can totally say no if you want—"

"Ok."

You blinked. "Ok?"

"I'll cover you tonight." He said, his voice forcefully light. "But you owe me."

"Oh my God, I owe you the whole world." You exclaimed, your voice almost painfully cheerful now. "Thank you Haechan, I love you for this."

"Yeah, yeah, no problem. Love you too." His voice sounded... off, but before you could linger on it, he spoke again. "I'll see you tomorrow."

You barely had time to say goodbye before he hung up. Shrugging off the weird feeling in your gut, you immediately called Jisung back.

"Oh, you actually called back." He teased as soon as he answered.

"Yeah, I did." You replied, your voice noticeably lighter now.

"You seem to be in a much better mood." He said with a hint of amusement in his tone.

"That's because you are the person taking me out tonight."

"Oh, am I?" His voice brightened, more than he probably meant for it to.

"Yes, you are."

Jisung let out a soft chuckle. "Well then, the person taking you out tonight is picking you up at six."

You smiled. "Thank you for informing me. See you then."

Jisung [5:58 PM]: "Outside. No rush, but also... hurry up."

You rolled your eyes but smiled, quickly slipping on your jacket before grabbing your phone and bag. You checked yourself in the mirror one last time, smoothing out your outfit before heading outside.

Jisung was leaning against his car, hands tucked into his pockets, his expression unreadable until he saw you, then that stupid little smirk of his appeared.

"Damn." He said, looking you up and down. "You look nice."

"Shut up." You huffed, but you were smiling as you reached for the car door.

"I mean it." He added, a little softer.

You glanced at him, your heart skipping for half a second before you quickly slid into the passenger seat. He got in after you, starting the car as music hummed through the speakers. The air smelled like his cologne, mixed with the faintest scent of vanilla from the air freshener hanging from the mirror.

"So, where are we going?" You asked, buckling your seatbelt.

"Dinner first." Jisung said, glancing over at you with a small smirk. "Gotta feed the birthday girl."

Jisung took you to a small, cozy restaurant tucked between some buildings downtown. It wasn't fancy, but it was warm, intimate, the kind of place where the lights were dim, and soft music played in the background.

The moment you walked in, he casually placed a hand on your lower back, guiding you toward a booth. It was barely anything, but it sent a small shiver up your spine.

He slid into the seat across from you, leaning back comfortably. "Alright, order whatever you want. Birthday rules."

"Birthday rules?" You raised a brow.

"Yeah, you get whatever you want, and I don't complain about the price." He grinned. "And also, you can't get mad at me for whatever dumb shit I do tonight."

You laughed, shaking your head. "We'll see about that."

When the waiter came, Jisung let you order first before he placed his, and true to his word he didn't even flinch when you went a little overboard with your choices.

"So," He said once the waiter left, propping his elbow on the table. "How's twenty three treating you so far?"

"It's only been a few hours Jisung."

"Yeah, but do you feel different?" He wiggled his brows dramatically.

"No idiot." You laughed.

"Lame." He sighed. "I was hoping for some life changing wisdom."

"You just turned twenty three a few months ago. Where's your wisdom?"

"Ah, but I'm not the birthday person today." He countered, smirking.

You shook your head, but the smile never left your face.

When the food arrived, you both dug in immediately, the conversation never slowing down. There were moments where Jisung stole food from your plate without asking, moments where you flicked a fry at him in retaliation, moments where the laughter between you felt so easy—so natural, that almost made you forget all the years you spent apart.

By the time the plates were empty, you were both comfortably full, and Jisung looked across the table with a small glint in his eyes. "You ready for the next stop?" He asked, as you nodded with a smile.

The moment you pulled into the arcades parking lot you felt the nostalgia settle in your chest.

"Holy shit." You murmured, looking around once you stepped inside.

"Feels like high school, huh?" Jisung grinned.

The arcade looked almost exactly the same as it did years ago—the flashing lights, the smell of popcorn, the sounds of tickets printing, and people shouting in excitement.

"Come on." Jisung said, already heading toward the change machine. He pulled out a couple of bills, exchanged them for tokens, and handed you a stack. "Hope you're ready to get your ass kicked."

You scoffed, stuffing the coins in your pocket. "We'll see about that."

The first game you played was air hockey. Jisung was obnoxious about it, smirking every time he scored on you.

"Damn, you used to be way better at this." He teased.

"I'm warming up." You argued, huffing as you tried to block his next shot.

Then came racing games, basketball hoops, and a whack a mole battle that ended with both of you laughing so hard you almost forgot to keep score. Everything about it felt... familiar.

Then you saw it, the claw machine. You both used to be obsessed with it.

"No way." Jisung breathed, already walking toward it. "They still have it?"

"I can't believe this thing is still standing." You added, stepping beside him.

Jisung cracked his knuckles. "Alright. If I win, you have to admit that I'm the best at everything."

"And if you lose?"

"Not possible." He smirked before inserting a token.

He almost won the first time, then failed spectacularly the second.By the third time, you were laughing so hard you had to lean against the glass.

"Shut up." He groaned, focusing harder.

And then he actually won, turning to you, holding up a small stuffed animal with a shit eating grin.

"Bow to your champion." He said.

"I hate you." You grumbled, grabbing the toy.

"No, you love me." He corrected, his voice teasing, but his eyes soft.

You swallowed, ignoring the warmth spreading through your chest. "Where to next?" You asked. 

His grin widened. "You'll see."

The last place you expected Jisung to take you was a music studio.

"Uh, why are we here?" You asked as he led you inside.

He glanced over his shoulder with a smirk. "Just trust me."

The room was dark, blue and red lighting, a few instruments scattered around, soundproofed walls, but one stuck out to you.

A guitar— his guitar, the one he would always use when you both were younger... the one you had given him as a gift. 

Jisung smiled picking it up, settling into a chair before glancing at you.

"You remember your favorite song?" He asked casually.

Your breath caught. "You remember?"

"Of course I do. I couldn't get a break from it, always asking me to play it, even though I wasn't very good." He murmured, fingers strumming the first few chords.

And then he played and it was perfect. You just sat there watching him, feeling your chest tighten. When he finished he looked up, eyes locking onto yours.

"Happy birthday." He murmured.

You didn't say anything, you couldn't. All you could do was walk over to him, stand in front of him and stare into his eyes. Then you leaned in, closing the small space between you, and pressed your lips to his in a slow kiss. His hands found your waist almost instantly, pulling you against him like he couldn't stand another inch of distance.

The moment you reached your apartment you guided him to the couch, your lips never leaving his. With a gentle push, he sank onto the cushions, and you climbed onto his lap, pulling him into another messy kiss. Then you trailed your mouth to his neck, kissing down the warm skin slowly. Soft gasps slipped from him as you explored the sensitive spot just beneath his jaw, his hands gripping you tighter with every touch.

Your hands moved down his body, eager and a little shaky as you worked to undo his pants. You freed him, wrapping your fingers around him and stroking, slow at first. Soft moans slipped from his lips, his eyes locked on you. Then you slid down between his legs, settling on your knees in front of him, your touch never leaving him.

"No, I'm supposed to be treating you for your birthday." He said, breath hitching.

"I want to." You whispered, your thumb brushing over his tip.

"But—" He started, the protest dying in his throat the moment your mouth wrapped around him, cutting him off with a choked whimper.

His head dropped back against the couch, a low groan slipping from his throat as your mouth moved around him. You took your time, letting your tongue swirl around his tip before sliding deeper, feeling him twitch against your tongue.  

His fingers clenched the edge of the couch, knuckles white. Every soft suck, every flick of your tongue pulled a new sound from him—quiet moans, hitched breaths, curses whispered under his breath.  

He looked down at you through half lidded eyes, dark and dazed. One hand reached for you threading into your hair, not to control, just to feel you.

"Fuck... you feel so good." He breathed, his voice low and wrecked.

You glanced up at him, meeting his eyes as you sank down further, cheeks hollowing around him. The moment your pace quickened his hips gave a slight helpless jerk, and he bit his lip to keep another groan from spilling out.

You kept your rhythm steady, teasing him with just enough pressure to keep him right on the edge. Every time you pulled back, you let your tongue drag along the underside of him before taking him back in, deeper each time. His thighs tensed beneath your hands, a clear sign of how hard he was trying to stay still, to not lose control.

You let out a soft hum around him and he gasped, hips twitching as the vibration shot through him, his hand tightening in your hair.

"Shit—baby, wait..." He muttered, but there was no conviction in his voice, only pleasure and desperation. His eyes fluttered shut for a second before locking back on you.

You kept your eyes on him as you picked up the pace again, your mouth moving faster, more focused. He was close, you could feel it in the way his thighs tightened beneath your hands, the way his breathing turned shallow and uneven, every soft gasp turning into a ragged moan.  

His hand gripped your hair even tighter, hips lifting just slightly.

"Fuck, I'm—" He tried to warn you, voice cracking, but he didn't get the chance to finish his sentence.

You didn't slow down, taking him deep, lips and tongue working him through it as he came hard, a broken sound tearing from his throat. His whole body tensed under your touch, breath catching as waves of pleasure crashed over him as he twitched, sinking back into the couch with a shaky exhale.

His hand loosened in your hair, fingertips brushing your cheek as he looked down at you, completely wrecked and grinning like he couldn't believe what just happened.

"This night was supposed to be about you." He murmured as he tucked himself away, then reached for you, gently pulling you up onto the couch. Before you could protest, he stood and dropped to his knees in front of you.

"I said I wanted to." You replied with a soft smile, your voice breathless as he pushed up your skirt, fingers slipping beneath the fabric to pull your underwear down to your knees.

"Mm, right." He said, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk. He hooked your legs over his shoulders, hands firm on your thighs as he leaned in. His lips brushed along your leg, leaving slow lingering kisses that traveled upward. He never looked away from you, his gaze dark as he inched closer.

Each kiss grew slower, hotter, as he neared your inner thigh, the anticipation curling tight in your stomach. He paused, just breathing against your skin, making you feel every second stretch before he finally moved in closer.

Then finally, he leaned in.

His tongue found you in one slow stroke, and your head fell back against the couch with a sharp inhale. He moved with purpose, his mouth working you open smoothly, his tongue flicking and curling just right. One of his hands slid up to press against your stomach, grounding you as the other gripped your thigh, keeping you right where he wanted you.

You moaned loudly, fingers digging into the cushions as he kept his movements steady and deep. He pulled you in closer with every stroke of his tongue, every wet, open mouthed kiss he left against you, his eyes flicking up to watch you.

"You're already shaking." He murmured between strokes, his voice rough and hungry. 

And the way he was working you, tongue pressing just right—it wasn't long before heat coiled tightly in your lower belly. Your thighs began to tremble around his shoulders, breath catching as the climax crashed through you in waves.

He didn't stop right away. He eased you through it, mouth softer now, slower, until your body finally relaxed under his touch.

When he pulled back, lips slick, he looked up at you like he could devour you all over again.

He stayed close, brushing slow kisses along your thighs, like he couldn't stop touching you, couldn't get enough. His hand slipped into yours, fingers lacing together.

After a few quiet moments, he smiled and whispered. "We should probably go to the bed." Pulling back just enough to look at you properly

You gave a smile, brushing your thumb over his cheek. "Okay."

══════════════════════════

You walked into work, setting your belongings down and stretching out your shoulders before making your way to the floor. The dim lights of the bar cast a soft glow over the counter, the scent of citrus and liquor lingering in the air from the night's previous rush. Haechan stood behind the bar finishing up with a customer, his movements slow.

When he turned toward you, his tired eyes met yours. You offered him a small smile, but instead of his usual playful smile or greeting, he just stared at you blankly.

"I'm going on break." He muttered, turning away before you could even respond.

You blinked, slightly taken aback by his tone, but shook it off and got to work. When he returned, he seemed a bit more like himself—his posture wasn't as heavy, and he spoke a little more, but the exhaustion still clung to him. His voice remained low, and he couldn't stop yawning between sentences.

"You okay?" You asked once all the customers were taken care of.

"Yeah, I'm just exhausted." He sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"It's you who really needs the break, huh?" You teased lightly, hoping to lift his mood a little.

"Yeah." He chuckled, but it was weak and forced. He turned away to wipe down the counter, avoiding your gaze.

"You're not usually this tired— what's going on?" You asked, genuinely curious now.

He hesitated for a moment before answering, still focused on the cloth in his hands.

"Well... working by myself last night didn't help." He muttered.

Your stomach twisted with guilt. "You couldn't find anyone to work with you?"

"Nope."

"Haechan, I'm seriously so sorry. Let me buy you a coffee or something."

"No, you're good." His voice was low, he wasn't mad just drained.

You let it go, working in silence beside him as the night carried on. The bar began to wind down, the crowd thinning as closing time crept closer. You stepped away for a quick break, heading to the bathroom, but as you walked back onto the floor, a familiar voice stopped you in your tracks.

"I'm a big fan of yours, it's cool that I saw you around here."

Haechan's voice was animated, the tiredness gone replaced by something closer to admiration.

Your heart stuttered in your chest as you turned the corner, only to lock eyes with Jisung. You immediately stepped back behind the wall, mentally cursing to yourself.

"Thank you, I really appreciate that." Jisung replied politely before making his way toward the bar toward you.

"Y/n." He greeted you with a small grin.

You rolled your eyes. "You just love coming to my job for absolutely no reason, huh?"

Haechan glanced between the two of you with his brows raised, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten as he studied the exchange.

"Can I not want a drink?" Jisung asked, taking a seat on one of the stools directly in front of you. "Vodka lemonade, please."

His smirk was taunting, like he was enjoying the way you flared up at his presence.

"I hate you." You muttered, turning around to make his drink.

"I'm sorry, I may be missing something," Haechan cut in, moving slightly closer to you. "Do you two know each other?"

"I wish we didn't." You muttered, making sure Jisung could hear you.

He only chuckled under his breath. "You didn't say that last night."

Your face burned as you whirled around, shoving his drink toward him a little harder than necessary.

"Okay! Here you go, sir. Now please be quiet."

Haechan's confusion only deepened. He stared at you both before turning to you expectantly.

"This is Jisung." You finally said, introducing him with a tight smile.

"I know." Haechan nodded.

Then you turned to Jisung. "And this is Haechan. One of my closest friends and coworkers— also, the reason we went out last night."

Jisung smirked at you, then at Haechan. "Wow, thank you so much Haechan. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Haechan nodded back, clearly still putting the pieces together. "Yeah... you're welcome?"

Jisung leaned forward on the counter. "Y/n, quickly, hand me a pen and a napkin or something."

"You don't know how to say please anymore?"

"Please." He murmured, his voice low and breathy. The way it sounded sent a shiver down your spine.

You sighed, grabbing a napkin and a pen before handing them over. He signed quickly and slid it toward Haechan.

"I wish I could give you more, but I can't." He said, a little dramatically.

Haechan let out a small laugh, taking the napkin and tucking it into his pocket. "I still appreciate it. Thank you."

"Now." You interrupted. "I think you should be on your way."

Jisung tilted his head, his expression shifting. "I need to talk to you though."

"Well, I'll see you at home in an hour or so." You replied, attempting to brush him off.

"At home?" Jisung echoed, his brows raising slightly.

"Yes. My apartment where I reside, so it's my home. I will see you at home." You maintained your serious tone, making Jisung chuckle.

"Right, I'll see you at home." He said, sliding a $20 bill across the counter before standing up.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Haechan turned to you.

"You didn't tell me you knew the lead guitarist of Black Horizon." He said, his expression unreadable.

"I mean, it's not something you just bring up in casual conversation." You replied. "I didn't even know before you went to the concert."

Haechan narrowed his eyes slightly. "Are you two like... dating?"

"No, no." You said quickly. "Not at all. We're just friends."

Haechan studied your face. "And how did that happen?"

"We used to be best friends when we were younger." You said, but your voice was softer now.

"That's sick. Glad you stuck together, you have excellent taste in friends." He said, finally turning away.

You hummed in response, but a lump settled in your stomach. You didn't really stick together.

When you finally got home, Jisung's car was parked in front of the complex. He leaned against it, arms crossed as he watched you approach.

"Took you long enough." He sighed.

"I'm so sorry that me working is inconveniencing you." You replied sarcastically.

He let out a short laugh before rubbing the back of his neck. "Listen... there's something I need to tell you."

You paused, something about his tone making your stomach tighten.

"Are you not coming in?" You asked. 

"We both know how that's gonna turn out." He replied, his eyes a bit wide as he gave you a face.

You couldn't help but giggle before shaking your head. "Ok, what is it?"

"I'm not going to be around for a while." He said carefully. "The band's touring in another country for the next few months, and after that... we have to go straight into working on the next album."

"So... you're leaving?" You asked, voice quieter than before.

He hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah, I am."

You forced a smile, though it didn't reach your eyes. "Right. Well... I guess this is goodbye."

Jisung looked at you for a long moment before sighing. "Yeah. I'll see you when I see you."

And with that, he got into his car and drove off, leaving you standing there in the dim glow of the streetlights, watching him disappear all over again.

══════════════════════════

Jisung had been gone for a few months now, but it never really felt like he had left. 

No matter where he was, no matter how far, you never failed to call, never missed a day to text. Sometimes it was just a simple "good morning" or a half asleep voice memo when one of you were too tired to type. 

You were just about to head out the door for work when your phone buzzed in your pocket.

Jisung [5:48 pm]: "Hey, wyd?"

You glanced at the time, thumbs moving across the screen as you typed back.

You [5:51 pm]: "About to head to work, what's going on?"

Jisung [5:52 pm]: "I won't bother you, just have a good day at work."

You frowned at the message, pausing with one hand on the doorknob. He never texted like that.

You [5:54 pm]: "That's a first lol. Seriously, is everything okay? I'm getting worried."

Jisung [5:55 pm]: "Yea everything's cool. I was just curious lol."

Your brows furrowed as you stared at the screen for a second longer. You knew Jisung well enough to tell when something was off, but you didn't have time to pick at it right now. With a small huff, you slipped your phone back into your pocket and headed out.

The bar was already buzzing with low chatter and music by the time you arrived. Haechan greeted you with his usual smirk, wiping down a glass absentmindedly. These days, you and him had grown closer. 

"How's the night been so far?" You asked, setting your bag down and tying your apron.

Haechan leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter. "Here by myself, no one to talk to, so not so good. Thanks for asking."

You blinked at him, tilting your head. "No, Haechan."

He gave you an innocent look. "No, what?"

You giggled, shaking your head. "I meant the customers— is it busy?"

His mouth fell open in fake shock. "Oh, I thought you were checking up on me. You know, because I was working alone and you were late."

You stared at him with narrowed eyes as he barely held in a laugh.

"I was only five minutes late."

"Ah, time is money, money is time. Get to work." He said, tossing a cloth in your direction.

You caught it mid air with a dramatic sigh, looking at him before fluttering your eyes, your voice sweeter. "Haechan, don't be like that."

He stared at you for a second unimpressed before scoffing. "Whatever. We get it, you're pretty, just occupy yourself."

The shift passed in a blur. Eventually, the rush died down, and the atmosphere grew quieter, more relaxed. This was always one of your favorite part of the night—the moment where you and Haechan had the most fun.

"You're wiping oddly slow." Haechan noted, watching you over your shoulder.

You turned, leaning against the counter. "And you're talking oddly fast... and a lot."

"Oh, I'm talking a lot?" He said, smirking.

"Yeah, you're talking a lot. Do your job."

"Oh yeah? I need to do my job?" He poked your side suddenly, making you jolt.

"Haechan, stop." You giggled, twisting away as his finger jabbed at your ribs.

"Am I interrupting something?"

The deep voice cut through the air, sending a jolt down your spine. You turned quickly, your stomach sinking as your eyes landed on the figure sitting at the bar, his hat pulled low.

"Jisung?"

He tilted his head up slightly, his face partially shadowed, but you could see the his expression.

Haechan glanced between the two of you before nodding to himself. "I have to go do something, I'll leave you two." His voice was casual, but as he moved past you, his hand brushed your waist—subtle, but noticeable.

Jisung's gaze followed him, a flicker of something passing through his eyes.

"Hm, that was weird." He muttered, finally looking back at you.

You hesitated for a second before shaking your head with a small laugh. "Jisung, what are you doing here? You didn't tell me you were coming back."

"It was a surprise." He leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the counter before nodding toward where Haechan had disappeared. "You know, this doesn't seem too professional."

You blinked before realizing what he meant. A smirk tugged at your lips. "Jisung, are you jealous?"

His eyes flickered up to yours, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.

"No." He replied simply, but the way his fingers drummed against the counter told a different story.

You grinned, leaning in just slightly. "Mhm, sure."

Jisung huffed, shaking his head, but there was something softer in his expression now.

"You're back." You said, voice quieter now. "I missed you."

"Did you really?" He murmured, the corner of his lips curling up a bit against his will. 

You nodded, offering a small smile. "Yeah."

Jisung let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. "Well... I guess I missed you too."

You rolled your eyes pretending to be unimpressed, but deep down warmth spread through your chest.

"So." Jisung said, tilting his head. "Are you gonna serve me a drink, or do I have to watch you flirt with your coworkers all night?"

"Jealous." You smirked elongating the word, reaching for a glass.

"No." He said, but this time his voice lacked conviction, and somehow that made you smile even more.

"Ah, right." You giggled, sliding him the drink. "Well, I'm glad you came to visit." 

And after, that became the routine. Jisung would do whatever he had to do during the day, but at night he was here. 

First, it was just stopping by for a drink. Then, it was sitting there while you and Haechan closed everything out and of course, it always ended the same way—going home with you after work.

You never talked about it, but the pattern was clear. The moment you locked up for the night he'd be waiting, shoulders relaxed, an expectation between the two of you.

Tonight though, something was off.

Jisung never showed up before closing, so you didn't think much of it. You did what you always did—finished cleaning up with Haechan and got lost in conversation and somehow, that conversation led back to Jisung.

"Can you tell your boyfriend to hurry up and drop the album? I'm craving some new yearning music." Haechan teased, leaning on the counter with an amused grin.

"Oh, my boyfriend?" You scoffed, tossing the rag over your shoulder. "You like him more than I do. He's your boyfriend."

"I wish." He muttered, eyes widening playfully before bursting into laughter.

"Ew, Haechan oh my god." You nearly choked on your own laughter.

"I'm just saying." He shrugged, still grinning.

Before you could respond, the door swung open with a sharp creak.

"Sorry, we're closed." Haechan called out without glancing towards the person, the two of you still giggling.

"You do not want Jisung as a boyfriend." You joked, turning back to wipe the counter, only for the smirk on your face to vanish completely when your eyes locked onto him.

Your stomach dropped. Jisung stood there, his frame relaxed, his face unreadable, but there was something sharp in his gaze as he stared at you.

"Ouch." He said.

You froze. Your mind scrambled between apologizing or pretending nothing happened, but no words came out.

"Welp." Haechan placed a hand on your shoulder, glancing between the two of you. "You got that."

With that, he disappeared into the back, leaving you and Jisung standing in a thick, suffocating silence.

Jisung took a step forward, resting his hands in his pockets. "You're not gonna say hello?" His brows lifted slightly.

You swallowed. "Hello."

"Hello." He stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. "You don't want me as a boyfriend?"

"That was a joke, we were just joking." You forced out, letting out a nervous laugh, though your voice cracked slightly.

Jisung tilted his head. "Oh, so you do want me as a boyfriend?"

"No." Your answer was immediate, his expression faltering for a second. "We already talked about this, so you know the answer to that."

"Right." He nodded, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek before finally dropping into a seat at the counter. "I want a vodka lemonade."

"Well, you're gonna have to get that from somewhere else. You heard Haechan, we're closed."

Jisung exhaled dramatically. "Ah, bummer." He clicked his tongue. "Forgot we follow Haechan's rules now."

Your eyes narrowed slightly as you leaned in, elbows resting on the counter. "What are you talking about?"

"I mean, he's all you talk about these days— Haechan this, Haechan that."

You blinked. "Well, I talk to him a lot."

"You talk to me too." He countered, fingers tapping against the counter. "Do you talk about me that much?"

You smirked. "You just heard me talking about you."

Jisung went quiet for a moment, staring at you before shrugging. "I guess."

Before you could say anything, Haechan peeked out from the back. "Am I intruding?"

You smiled. "No, of course not."

Jisung shot you a look before dropping his gaze to the counter.

Haechan grinned. "Sorry to say, but I kinda expected you to come tonight, so I brought a CD."

Your brows lifted. "Where did you even get that from?"

"I've had it." He shrugged. "Do you think you could sign it? It would mean the world to me."

Jisung barely lifted his head. "No, not allowed."

Bullshit. He just told you a few days ago he spent fifteen minutes signing things for fans after getting swarmed.

You grabbed the CD and marker from Haechan, slamming them onto the counter in front of Jisung. "Sign it."

His eyes lifted, visibly irritated. "I can't." His voice was louder now.

"Jisung." Your tone was firm. "Sign it."

His jaw clenched before he snatched the marker aggressively, yanking the cap off and scribbling his signature harshly across the CD, before shoving it back at you.

"Since you're gonna fucking die without it." He said pushing back from the counter, storming toward the door, shoving it open and leaving.

Haechan sighed. "I didn't need it if he couldn't do it."

"He's fine." You forced a smile, handing him the CD and marker.

Haechan gave you a look. "You can go talk, if you need to."

"If that's okay with you."

"Yeah, go ahead."

You stepped outside, and the scent of cigarettes instantly surrounded you.

"I know you're still here you big crybaby." You rounded the corner, finding Jisung leaning against the wall, cigarette dangling between his fingers.

He exhaled slowly, eyes meeting yours.

"What the fuck was that?" You asked, arms crossing.

He stubbed out his cigarette against the wall. "What's going on with you and that guy?"

You groaned. "What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about." He said, pushing off the wall. "He's all you've been talking about on the phone, now this?"

"Jisung, will you relax?" You said, shaking your head.

"You fucking him or something?"

"That's none of your business."

"I feel like it is though." He shot back. "We have sex—unprotected sex. If you're out whoring around, I need to know that."

You scoffed. "Whoring around? I'm the one whoring around? Don't act all innocent Jisung, I know you fuck other people."

"I don't." He said, stepping closer. "You're the only one."

"Not anymore since I'm such a whore apparently." You said, turning around from him, beginning to walk away.

"I never said that."

You turned, exasperated. "You literally just did."

"Ok look, I'm sorry— but I asked you a question, all you had to do was answer."

"I don't have to do anything." Your voice shook. "We're not together. I don't owe you anything. I don't owe you an explanation. If you're scared I'm whoring around then leave or shut up and get over it."

Silence. 

His eyes locked onto yours. You stormed toward him, inches from his face.

"Stop looking at me with that stupid face."

Jisung didn't move.

"Say something."

His lips parted. "I don't owe you any explanation."

Your breathing was heavy, your chest ached, fingers clenched into fists, but before you could react his hands grabbed your waist, pulling you in. His lips crashed onto yours, swallowing whatever words you had left and you melted instantly, fingers tangling in his hair. 

His hands tightened, pushing you against the wall, the cold brick cooling your hot back. The kiss was rough, his tongue brushing against yours, his grip possessive.

It wasn't enough.

Jisung broke away, breathless. "Car. Now."

You nodded, and in seconds, you were following him to the parking lot.

When you slid into the backseat, you barely had a moment to settle before he was on you, lips crashing onto yours once more.

His hands found the hem on your shirt, pulling it over your head. His hands lingered back up, landing on your jaw as he pushed your head up roughly, moving  down to your neck, kissing roughly before sucking, leaving markings in his wake. 

You moaned softly as his hand slid down your body. He unbuttoned your jeans quickly, tugging them down to your knees along with your underwear in the cramped space of the car. The cool air hit your thighs, but his hands were warm.

He brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking them slowly while his eyes stayed locked on yours. Then he reached down, parting your folds and running his slick fingers through you, dragging them over your clit before slipping one inside you without warning.

You gasped, your head hitting the back of the seat. He didn't ease in, thrusting hard and fast, his thumb pressing tight circles against your clit. His finger curled just right, hitting that spot again and again knuckle deep, wet sounds filling the space between your moans.

Your hips bucked into his hand, head thrown back and eyes closed chasing every stroke, every flick of his thumb. You were already close, your body clenching around him, desperate for more.

"Look at me." He said, voice low and rough, just before sliding another finger inside you. The stretch made you cry out, your back arching as he moved them fast.

"I'm gonna cum." You gasped, your body already tightening around him, but just as your climax started to rise, his pace slowed.

Your breath caught. "Why are you stopping?"

His eyes narrowed, tone sharp and possessive. "What's going on with you and that guy?"

"Jisung, what are you—" You started, but he cut you off with a sharp thrust of his fingers, rough and deep, forcing a whimper from your throat.

"Tell me." He said.  "And I might let you finish."

"Jisung, please." You begged, hips bucking, you were so close it hurt.

"Then talk or I'll stop." He said. 

His fingers sped up again, sending you right back to the brink, but his eyes stayed locked on yours, demanding an answer.

"We're just friends. I—I don't like him." You cried out, your head hitting the window as your body trembled under his touch.

"Oh yeah?" He said, darkly amused, his free hand wrapping around your throat pulling you back to him, forcing your eyes on his. "Say it again."

"We're just friends." You gasped, breath hitching as his fingers moved faster inside you.

"I thought it wasn't any of my business." He taunted, voice low and rough. His fingers curled deep, hitting that perfect spot that made your whole body jerk. "What changed?"

"I'm sorry—fuck, I'm gonna—" You could barely speak, the pleasure overwhelming as your stomach coiled tight, your legs beginning to shake.

"Are you?" He said, leaning in closer, his grip on your neck tightening just enough to make you dizzy. His face hovered just inches from yours, lips parted, eyes locked on the way yours fluttered shut.

"Yes." You gasped out, barely holding it together. Your orgasm hit hard, rolling through your body in waves as he kept going, thrusting into you fast and deep, fingers soaked.

"He'll never make you feel like I do." He whispered, watching your face as you came undone for him. "Never."

Your body slumped back against the seat, chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath. The windows were fogged, your skin still flushed and tingling, your thighs sticky and trembling.

Jisung stayed close, his hand finally slipping out of you, fingers glistening. He looked down at them for a second, then wiped them slowly on your inner thigh teasingly. His other hand loosened around your neck, thumb brushing over the spot where he had held you, gentler now.

Neither of you said anything for a moment. The only sound was your ragged breathing.

Jisung leaned back slightly, eyes still on you as he slid his hand off your thigh.

"Go get your stuff so we can take this someplace else." He said quietly.

You blinked, still trying to steady yourself.

He smirked. "You've got five minutes, don't make me come in there."

══════════════════════════

(Part two)- read here

══════════════════════════

[em-harlsnow]

drunk ian devouring his husband send message

Ian usually doesn't get this drunk. He drinks, sure, probably more than he should, but he acts mostly the same when he's tipsy.

But Mickey hasn't seen Ian this drunk in a long time. Not since they were teenagers. Definitely not since they've been married.

Someone threw a small party in the Alibi, Mickey doesn't remember who or why. Everyone else has forgotten too.

He's at the bar, drinking whiskey with Carl and arguing about guns. Kev and Veronica add their own opinions every once in a while when they aren't pouring beers from drunk and disorderly patrons. Mickey's mid-way through his sentence on how much better Mickey is at shooting than Carl when he feels something heavy hit into his back.

"Heyyy, Mickey." Ian slurs into his ear, giggling to himself.

"Hey." Mickey laughs, raising his eyebrows.

"How're you?" Ian says, the words all mingling together.

"I'm good, man. How much've you had?" Mickey asks, eyebrows raised.

Ian shakes his head. "None, none. I'm sooo sober." He mumbles, reaching over Mickey's shoulder to his half-filled glass of whiskey.

"Yeah, no. I don't think you need any fucking whiskey right now." Mickey says, sliding the glass out of reach.

Instead, Ian grabs Mickey's arm instead of the drink.

"You've got good arms, d'y'know that?" Ian asks, groping up Mickey's biceps.

Carl starts chuckling, gripping his stomach. Mickey snorts.

"C'mon. We're gonna sit you down." Mickey says. "Before you can't walk anymore."

"Wanna sit me down on you." Ian slurs.

"Yeah, that doesn't make much sense." Mickey says, getting up from his stool and pulling Ian towards one of the booths. He can still mostly walk, but he keeps tripping over or getting distracted and almost drifting off.

"You got a good butt." Ian sighs into his ear while Mickey's trying to wrestle him into a seat. Mickey feels one of his hands pinch his ass, and Mickey rolls his eyes, pulling Ian's hand away and setting it down on the table.

"M'gonna get you some water, kay? Stay here." Mickey says, swaying as he stands back up again. He's a little drunk himself, but he's much more coherent than Ian.

"Where're you goin?" Ian asks, iron grip on Mickey's wrist.

"To get you water." Mickey laughs. "I'll be back in a sec."

"Stay here."

"I will, okay? Just gotta get you a bit more sober so you don't got your head in the toilet tomorrow." Mickey reasons, prying Ian's fingers off him.

Just as he turns around, he feels Ian pulling him backwards by his belt. "Mickeyyy." Ian laughs. "Come back."

Mickey laughs at him. "You're an idiot. Lip!" Mickey calls, waving Ian's brother over. "Can you watch him?" Mickey asks, pointing to the ginger sap trying to simultaneously feel him up under his shirt and undo his belt buckle. Mickey bats at his hands.

Lip wanders over, and Ian groans. "Make Lip get water. Mickey can stay."

"Jesus, how much did he drink?" Lip asks.

"Hey, Lip!" Ian smiles, as if he hadn't already noticed his presence.

"Yeah, hey, Ian." Lip smirks. "I'll go grab him some water. Kev might have some bread or some shit behind the counter."

"Good, Mickey stays. C'mon, we can fuck under the table." Ian tries to whisper, noise level rising much more than is socially acceptable.

"Your dick won't fit under the table, never mind your whole body." Mickey snorts.

"No, c'mon. Just sit on my lap and no one will know." Ian giggles, fingers hooking into Mickey's belt.

"You're shouting, I'm pretty sure everyone will know." Mickey says, letting Ian drag him onto the seat beside him.

"Everyone knows you're my husband, everyone knows we're fucking." Ian adds, head landing into Mickey's shoulder.

"Yes." Mickey agrees. "Everyone knows that, but I don't think they need a live show."

"We'll hide under the table." Ian says, like Mickey's stupid.

"No, we can fuck in the bed we have at home." Mickey says. "When you won't fall asleep halfway through, though. So not tonight." He adds, which Ian pouts about.

"Fine, I'll just suck your dick under the table, then." Ian grins, about to shuffle himself onto his knees.

"God, please don't." Lip mutters. "Here's your water. Kev didn't have any food."

"Don't want water. Want another real drink." Ian grumbles.

"Yeah, this has vodka in it." Mickey lies, pushing the water towards his husband. "S'a new thing. Water and vodka. Try it."

Ian frowns like he doesn't trust him, but gingerly reaches for the glass and sips it. "This doesn't taste like vodka."

"Exactly. The water hides the taste." Mickey says. "Have some more."

"Doesn't sound right."

"Just drink more." Mickey says, shoving the glass into Ian's hand.

"Fine." Ian gives in, chugging the whole thing down at once.

Lip sits across from them, starts having a conversation with someone Mickey doesn't remember the name of. Once Ian's done, he's immediately feeling Mickey up under his shirt.

"Man, you gotta stop." Mickey laughs. "You're fucking handsy when you're drunk."

"Can't help it. We're married." Ian mutters. "And you lied to me about vodka being in that water, so I'm mad at you."

"You aren't mad at me, you're smiling." Mickey argues.

"I'm smiling. Yeah, I'm smiling, because you're taking care of me." Ian grins. "I'm gonna suck your dick so much when we get home."

"You're gonna be asleep when we get home. Better not throw up tomorrow."

"You'd hold my hair back." Ian slurs.

[bluem1lls]

✧₊⁺ Because of you, I can't love you

cheater! se-mi x gf! reader Synopsis: She was your number one, so why couldn't you be hers? Content: angst!! Authors note: OH MY GOD im pretty sure there's no one left here but i'd thought id leave this here and hopefully y'all like it??? i thought about this as a prequel to forget about everything for a while but it could not be that and i could do a part 2 for this one specifically??? u tell me<3 i love u sososo much and tysm to the people who kept asking if i was okay and all, I AM im just a lazy ass who went through a vv big block

It's so hard when love isn't reciprocated the way you want it to be.

Because she was always there; you never thought she'd leave.

So when she does, it doesn't matter how many years pass, she will always be there. At least in your mind.

january 2022.

"Oh, give it a break, would you?" se-mi says, her voice tinged with frustration as you hide your face on your hands, sobbing— trying to stop. "She's just a friend!"

"Except she's not! god, why are you trying to make me look insane? She's not a friend, she's not! I know it!" you say, your voice is cracking but you're still trying to hold your tone. Does she think you're this naive?

Se-mi sits on the bed, grabbing her head with a long sigh. The sharp, maddening silence fills the room as you stare at her, waiting for an answer. Anything.

Nothing comes out of her lips.

"Please…" you cry out loud, eyes filled with tears.

Please tell me you didn't ruin our relationship.

Please tell me you didn't forget about me.

Please tell me you didn't kissed her while i was here, waiting for you to come home.

But her eyes never look at yours. they're fixed on the floor, dissociating. she bites her chapped lips, her throath bobs.

And although you don't know what she's about to say, by the way your blood goes cold— you feel it.

"I'm sorry" she says with a small thread of voice.

And suddenly, every heavy weight on your thoughts comes crashing down.

"W-why? i.. did—did i do something wrong?" you ask with a shaky voice as the tears roll freely down your cheeks.

She stares at you, shaking her head 'no' as she gets up from the bed to try and touch you —quickly pulling away as she sees you flinching. "Never. you—you never did anything wrong i just.."

And once again, silence fills the room.

Because she wants an excuse, but she doesn't have one.

She doesn't really know why she cheated on the girl who loved her the most.

And maybe that's why. Maybe she just answered to herself.

Because you're the girl that always loved her the most. You always loved with your entire heart—all or nothing.

But you weren't the girl she loved the most.

For as long as she can remember, you were always just... there.

Yeah, you were there since high school. After the bullyng, you were the ray of sunshine. Her ray of sunshine.

The drama with her parents? You were there when her mom died, when her dad started to drink and pass out on the couch.

You were always there.

And it wasn't a surprise when you two started dating. After all, the popularity you once held was ruined once you started befriending the 'weirdo'.

And to you? It was worth it. You'd lived, you'd loved other people, yet, you decided that loving her was worth more than anyone else.

But she didn't get that.

Nobody loved her, so when someone suddenly did, it was everything to her.

Until, after a few years, it wasn't.

Because she realized she'd spent her younger years with you, but she never learned what else was out there for her.

"I'm done begging for you to see me, Se-mi" you spoke with the last bit of voice you had, standing up to grab a dirty backpack that lay on what used to be your room— yours and hers.

you began throwing inside everything you owned —or at least what you could fit— before she stops you.

"W-what.." she says with wide eyes, staring at your movements.

"You seriously didn't think I'd forgive the cheating, right?" you say with dried tears and a disgusted face.

"N-no but—"

You turn to face her, and she's never seen that expression on your face before. she thought she knew you like the back of her hand.

Turns out she didn't.

Because the way your teary —now cold and harsh— eyes set on her? the way your mouth twitches with anger and betrayal?

She's never seen that on you.

"You're staying with the apartment, because I'm nice enough" you say, your voice hard and angered while shoving more things into the backpack. "I'm nice enough to know if I throw you out of here, you'll be sleeping on the streets. But, God. Fuck off Se-mi. I hope you know i gave everything for you, and you didn't do shit for me. Go fuck yourself" you spoke grabbing your set of keys and your phone, slinging the backpack over one shoulder.

And with a harsh sound, the door slams behind you, leaving her in a cold, dark apartment that doesn't look like half of what it was before.

Before she cheated, of course.

She knew what she had coming.

She knew when she kissed her co-worker.

She knew when she allowed the pretty blonde to send pictures of her tits to her phone.

She knew when she saw her again.

And she knew the moment the notification popped and your eyes quickly read it. She saw that was all you needed —the confirmation of all those "Are you okay? Are we okay?" "Yeah, i'm just tired".

Thats when she knew she'd fucked up.

And there she sat, on the bed that once had her holding you in her arms.

Whatever warm remnat of that moment was now gone, thanks to her.

Her thoughts were clouded. Her hands buried in her frustrated face, rubbing it. A soft sigh leaving her lips.

She quickly got out of bed, dressing in the first thing she found —sweatpants and a hoodie— before heading out to take a walk.

Her feet gave out near the bench in the park. She dropped herself there, pulling out her phone.

Her screen reflected her lockscreen, a picture of you and her kissing, her hand cupped your cheek. And right there, a message of the girl she cheated on you with. She didn't even learned her name.

She focused on it until she felt a heavy weight beside her. A man dressed in a suit with black hair seemed to be staring at her.

"Hey." he smiled as Se-mi stared at him.

And after thirty minutes, who would tell her she'd ended up beating him at ddakji? He gave her a card with a square, triangle and a circle and a number.

Whatever, right?

Let it be, she told herself as headed home to dial the number.

She took it as a sign.

[anantaru]

⚝ DAY 11 — BREEDING

kinktober 2024. — masterlist | ao3

— including. — blade, welt, anaxa, phainon

— warnings. — fem! reader, breeding kink, spit kink, cum eating, very messy, possessive boys, lovesick and pussydrunk giggles, oral (fem! receiving), hitting it raw

⚝ — BLADE

there's no lead in with your boyfriend, no warm up— not with blade, yeah? not with him, just your thighs lazily thrown over his shoulders and his mouth dragging down between them like he's searching for something that'll surely save his heart.

his tongue was brutal and mean attacking the little pearl through the protective hood of your clit, making you instantly flinch into him, whimpering from the pressure as he groans like it only made him harder the more he heard you voice yourself. by now, his face shimmered of spit and slick before he pulls back— just to let a thick globule of spit hit your messy cunt again, big and heavy and right on your entrance— blade groans out at the sheer sight, "you want to be used, don't you? made a mess of? filled so deep it leaks out of you for days."

"that's what you've said, haven't you?" he was awfully good at giving you what you've sought after and blade doesn't stop, not even when you're shaking, not even when your breath fractures into broken little sobs.

he only drives into you over and over, stuffing you so full it spills out around him and covers his girth and pelvis, a sight both so hot and humiliating it turned your thighs into jelly— not to mention when it's sticking to his skin or soaking into the ruined sheets below.

you feel it all— feel the mess you've made and the weight of it on both of your bodies, the slow, endless filling of his cum pumping into you until you felt like you couldn't possibly breathe anymore— yet he just kept going, naturally, like he's literally carving himself into you, like he's trying to brand his existence into the deepest, most secret parts of your body so he'd for once, love being alive.

he huffs out when you sob into his lips, a gravelly noise torn from the bottom of his chest as he continues grinding into you with a brutal force that left you gasping, half-sobbing against his strong chest, "i'll ruin every inch," and you can't tell if he's actually shaking from restraint or insane hunger for you.

every greedy shove of hips against your cunt carved a deeper wound inside you, raw, passionate and the friction unbearable, your thighs slick and weak from the hefty fullness he's forced upon your hole, your hands sliding uselessly against his arms— clinging one moment and slipping the next, your body too wrung out to do anything but take him.

slick and semen spill out around where he bullies himself deeper, a vulgar, sticky testament to how little control he has left— how little you have left, all you can do is tremble and arch into him, as well as clutch at him with your numb fingers grazing at his biceps while he groans into your throat like he'll die if he doesn't break you open a little more.

his hands were splayed at your hips like he's holding together something broken, but it's not you— it's him, something's fracturing, something sharp and cavernous and when blade finally presses in once more, pistoling his cock through everything you've given him, the filthy mixture of your arousal and his cum covering the insides of your thighs as blade groans— a raw, strangled thing that sounded like a force of life had crushed through him.

well, there you see it, he was showing it, already wanting to be ready for another round, correct?

because blade's not done, oh no don't be silly now— he'll never be done, his cock was already glazed in the evidence of your last few rounds and still he shoves it back in like he's punishing you for how wet and how soft and how tight you were for him.

"you'll keep squeezing me like that, i'll fill you again, i swear—" his voice catches, one uncoordinated thrust of through your hole and he moans, hips twitching with mild overstimulation, "fuck, i'll keep doing it until you can't walk" as the tremble in his hands betrayed how close he truly was, how the tight, wet clench of your walls sucking him in was unraveling him thread by desperate thread. 

⚝ — WELT

"this is all i was asking for," welt purrs at you, his voice resembling poisoned silk as he dragged two fingers through your soaked mess, his lips curled up in a smirk, "you're leaking already for me, how shameful."

the man doesn't hide how hard he got seeing the way your body reacted to his faint touches— how he readjusted his boxers when your slick gathered so easily on his fingers, the way it glistened when he held it to the light like a chemist examining his prized specimen.

welt tastes it instantly, although slow, his tongue curling around the evidence as he groans at your taste infiltrating his taste buds, "i'll fuck you until you cry for mercy and beg me not to stop, i want to see it all— your spit, your cum, me, dripping from every hole, every inch of you marked," there, listen close, welt was laughing again.

not mockery, but devotion— fanged and fevered, unwell and you're beneath him and he's already soaked you again, cock smacking against your folds with disgustingly wet slaps of slick and spit glazing your thighs as welt just hums like a man given purpose.

"you think i'm stopping?" he whispers against your temple, tongue dragging hot over the shell of your ear, "after I just made you cum on my cock like that?" as you're still twitching from the aftermath, overstimmed to the brim, your cunt a mess and full, fuck, and he just shifts back slightly to admire the sight, what a man gone mad.

welt couldn't stop looking at how your hole pulses and spasms like it's begging for more, reaching for him, greedy and flushed and leaking cum, "look at that, so empty, so needy," he smears his fingers through the mess he's left inside you, presses the slick digits to your lips, "taste that, that's mine," and when he fucks back in, he abruptly spits on your tongue.

"don't swallow it yet, let it stay there. let me see it— dripping down your chin like the perfect little thing you are."

⚝ — ANAXA

anaxa doesn't wait, in fact, ugh, come on now, lets remain honest here— did he ever strike you as somebody who'd kindly wait for you to settle onto the bed when you don't even need to blink before he's shoving you onto the bed like gravity has betrayed you all by himself?

like he owns the air in your lungs and intends to squeeze every last moan out with his hands, his hips, his cock.

"witness yourself," anaxa breathes out, a low, menacing murmur, gloved fingers prying you apart with slow, clinical cruelty, like he's cataloging something rare and precious in his mind, only to later defile it with his slender hands, "already soaked for me? already out of breath too? and i've barely even laid claim on you, ah, how do you expect to survive me, little one?"

he leans in to be face level with your glistening pussy, his breath fanning against your folds as he spits, repeatedly— once slow, twice again— right over your swollen folds. it trickles down in a glistening line and he watches with a hollow, consuming hunger, like a scholar before a ritual.

"even better now," his voice cuts low, scraping through the thick air as you whine out his name, your nipples hard and erected from how anaxa has been handling you, "so prettily aching for me, huh? you want to be ruined, don't you? stretched wide, stuffed full, yeah, so full it spills out of you, again and again and you'll still beg for more."

"I just know you will," as he pushes himself in with a groan, the large and shuddering stretch on your pussy stinging instantly before you felt a familiar heat greet your walls— the split alone folds you in half, has your toes curling and your nails scrambling for anything to hold onto as anaxa carefully pinned down your wrists, dragging your hands up above your head, beginning to fuck you.

"you're mine now," he breathes, lips brushing your ear, "every drop you spill— mine, every tear you cry from getting fucked so hard you forget your name— it belongs to me."

he thrusts harder, chasing the sound of your body squelching beneath him as you clench tight and cry out, making him lose his fucking mind. one hand leaves your wrists to force your jaw open, his spit falling directly onto your tongue before he leans in to kiss it deeper into your throat.

"i'll ruin you so many times, you won't know which mess came first, mine or yours," and when he does, inch by inch, a high pitched moan shatters over your cries as you wince out his name when his cock massaged over your walls repeatedly well, his skilled fingers rubbing your tits ever so tenderly.

if only he wasn't so damn messy— your thighs slick with everything he's spilled inside you, rubbing the head of his cock through the cum-slick mess between your legs just to spread it over yourself more, fuck, anaxa really cannot stop.

⚝ — PHAINON

an impassioned and heavy stillness seemed to press down the air on itself, and in that darkened room you've found yourself splayed out right underneath phainon's towering frame, trembling under the cool, hefty weight of him.

"sweetheart, you're clenching," he says, quite fascinated, as he pushes into you with a low, shaky moan, "gripping me so tight— do you want to milk every drop out of me?"

he's obsessed with it, the mess, the physical evidence of what you're doing to him as he leans down, biting your shoulder, thrusting deeper just to hear the wet, obscene squelches of his warm cum inside you, "again," he whispers, voice cracking, "i need to see more, more of it leaking out, down your thighs, on my cock, fuck, fuck, on your stomach too, fuck— i need to paint you with it."

you're both drenched, tangled in sweat and spit and endless release, his hands greedily spreading your folds to admire the way you glisten with all he's spilled inside you, "you'll remember me by the way you drip," he breathes, "every time you move, it'll remind you who ruined you."

phainon has already fucked you twice and still looks like he's starving.

his hair was stuck to his forehead as sweat dripped down his chest, yet his hands haven't stopped shaking since the moment you moaned out his name and pulled him in the first time.

you're dazed, truly, raw and full of warm cum and yet he's still staring between your legs like you're an unanswered prayer, "can't help it," he murmurs, almost apologetic— almost, "when i see it like that."

his voice trails off as he drags his fingers through your wrecked cunt with cum dripping out of you instantly, coating his fingers in strings that glisten under the low light, "fuck— fuck," phainon moans before immediately shoving his fingers into your mouth, "taste it, baby come on, tell me it's not perfect."

you filthily whimper around his fingers, suckling on them and rolling your tongue over his knuckles as his cock twitches, "no, no— don't close your legs now," as he pulls them open again, wider this time and groans at the sight of his cum leaking out in slow, wet rivulets, "keep them open, yeah? i want to see it, all of it, i need to see how many times i can fill you before your body can't hold it anymore."

phainon leans in, whispers hot against your throat as he presses his cum-stricken fingers against your tongue, "you'll let me try, won't you?"

©2025 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[wingedhallows]

band au!nat!!!!

𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 band! nat scatorccio x reader / 0.9k words ⋆ 𐙚 ̊. 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 none ⋆ 𐙚 ̊. 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 OKAY!! this was fun to write, tbh. thank u for the request !!

♡︎ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ♡︎

You're not exactly sure what makes you say yes. Maybe it’s the way Natalie Scatorccio stumbles over her words, twisting the sleeve of her hoodie in her fingers, chewing at the corner of her lip like she's terrified you might laugh at her.

Maybe it’s the way her eyes, usually so sharp and electric, go soft and flickering when she asks if you want to come watch them practice.

Either way, here you are — standing outside Shauna's house, clutching your jacket a little tighter around yourself, your breath fogging in the cool evening air.

Music leaks through the walls — a messy, pulsing thud of a bassline and the distant crack of drums. You take a breath and knock

The door swings open almost immediately, and there she is.

Natalie.

Her blonde hair is half tucked under a beanie, a guitar strap slung over one shoulder, her Doc Martens untied and scuffed at the toes. She looks like every garage-band daydream you’ve ever had, and somehow, she still looks nervous.

"Hey," she says, voice a little breathless, like she’s sprinted to answer. "You came."

You smile, warmth blooming under your skin. "You invited me."

"Yeah," she says, blinking like she can't quite believe it worked. Then, rubbing the back of her neck, "Uh, c'mon in. We're just getting started."

Shauna waves at you from the living room — her bass resting against her hip — and Van gives a two-finger salute from behind the drum kit. Misty’s fiddling with some wires near the amps, her glasses slipping down her nose. It’s chaotic, a little out of tune, and somehow... perfect.

Natalie leads you over to the ratty couch shoved against the far wall. "You can, uh, sit here. It's not like, super clean, but..."

You plop down with a grin, not caring at all. "Looks great to me."

The practice kicks off messy, a little loud and a lot passionate. Covers, half-songs, Shauna and Van arguing over the tempo while Misty insists she can "totally make a fog machine work if someone lets her try."

But then — after about an hour, once the chaos settles into a loose kind of rhythm — Nat catches your eye across the room. She gives a little nod, almost like she’s working up the courage to jump off a cliff.

"This one’s... new," she says, voice a little scratchy, turning the mic stand toward her, knuckles whitening around the neck of her guitar. "I kinda... wrote it." Her gaze flickers to you for a heartbeat and away again. "Uh, it’s for someone."

Your heart trips over itself, warmth blooms in your chest.

She strums once, adjusting the tuning with a twist of her fingers. Then again, a softer, sweeter sound filling the room.

The song unfolds like something secret — slow and a little rough at the edges, her voice threading through the chords with a raw, unpolished kind of beauty. The lyrics aren't complicated. They're simple, honest, like she’s peeled them straight out of her chest. Little lines about stolen glances and wanting to say something but never quite finding the right moment. About how sometimes the best thing you can do is hope that person notices you back.

And even though Natalie never once looks directly at you while she sings — keeps her gaze stubbornly fixed on the fraying rug beneath her boots — you know.

It’s for you.

The world outside the living room slips away, melting into the background until there’s only her voice, her guitar, and the weight of something new and trembling between you.

When the last chord fades, there’s a beat of silence. Even Van doesn’t immediately crack a joke.

Nat mumbles something about "working on the bridge still" and ducks her head, cheeks visibly pink even from across the room.

Practice wraps not long after. Shauna bails to drive her sister somewhere, Misty declares she’s "engineering the fog machine for next time," and Van winks at you before sauntering out with her drumsticks tucked in her back pocket.

Which leaves you and Natalie.

She hovers by the door, picking at the hem of her hoodie, her hair falling into her eyes. "Thanks for... uh... coming. I know we’re kinda — messy."

You stand up, heart still doing somersaults from the song. You step closer, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "It was perfect."

Natalie swallows hard, her throat bobbing. "I, uh — that song — it was... for you."

Her voice is so quiet you barely catch it. She finally looks at you, really looks at you, and for once there isn’t any armor there. No smartass grin or cocky shrug. Just her, wide open and waiting.

You smile, so full you think you might burst, and before you can overthink it — before you can let yourself chicken out — you lean in and press a kiss to her cheek.

Warm and quick and a little shy.

Nat goes stock-still. You can feel the way she holds her breath, like even breathing might shatter the moment.

When you pull back, her face is bright red and she looks absolutely, beautifully wrecked.

"I’ll see you at your next show," you say softly, smiling.

Natalie blinks at you, dazed, and then grins — the kind of grin that makes you feel like you could float all the way home.

"Yeah," she says, voice cracking a little. "Definitely."

You step out into the night, the door swinging shut behind you, your heart beating to the rhythm of a song that’s written just for you.

[sodayunz]

The NXT and Glow filming in the countryside, really suppress Jiyeon's libido.

On the first night after the filming was done, everyone went to sleep. Jiyeon sneaks out the house to have a masturbating session.

She arrived at the garden, making sure every area is clear and the camera doesn't have blinking lights on it. Then she quickly discards her pants around her ankle, squats behind the crops bushes and inserts her ring and middle finger

"ah- hmm yeah that's it" she moans, happy finally she can touch herself. Not forgetting her other hand teasing her clitoris and it makes her moan a lil bit louder than she predicted.

"who's ther-" you, the sound director, stumbled upon Jiyeon's pleasuring session.

"Sound director-nim... I-It's no-not what it looks like" she rises up, her body tensed. her fingers are slicks and reflecting moonlights covering her crotch, a lil bit hairy but suit your preference.

"you know from all the girls, I always thought you were the innocent one, turns out I'm wrong. You're a bad bad horny slut who needs a dick inside that hungry drooling tight pussy right?" You said while you approaches her.

You grab Jiyeon's hand, her pussy is perfectly shown to you now. Your other hand hover then caresses her pubic and finds her clit.

"Is this better, Jiyeon?"

"mmm yes director-nim, touch me more"

"I'll take you to a better place"

You bring Jiyeon into your temporary place, where it's more secluded, but filled with recordings props.

Then you both undressed, Jiyeon can't contain it anymore pouncing at you.

"Your fucking cock is the biggest I've seen and it will fuck me hard in many ways you like director Nim. Make me can't walk tomorrow" she says, then she went closer to your ears

"doggy, missionary, nelson, piledriver, you name it. Stretch my tight little asshole with your big dick also"

"Mmm fuck you naughty slut jiyeon, can't contain your horniness any longer" You say as you put your hands around her slim and slender waist, "I can't wait anymore director-nim I need your big cock in me now!".

Not wanting to keep the horny girl waiting any longer you buried your cock right into her tight little pussy, "Fuuck... yesss!.. director-nim" her tight slick walls swallowing your cock as you keep thrusting into. "Ah god jiyeon you're such a tight slut aren't you" You say as you spank her tight ass.

You tell her to get off and go on all fours she obediently follows your orders, you get behind her squeeze and spreading her cheeks. You spit on your fingers and rubbed it around the rim of her asshole.

With her hole lubed, you begin to pentrate her ass slowly, pushing just the tip first so she can adjust to the size before ram your length all the way inside her, "ahh, I'm ready keep going manager-nim" once she gave you the okay to keep going you thrust deeper into her, now your entire length is buried inside her ass.

You begin pounding her silly, you couldn't help but to moan from how much tighter her ass is compared to her pussy. You keep pounding into her over and over again, stretching her tight ass, jiyeon mind completely gone and can't form any sentences all she could do is just moan as you destroy her ass. You felt yourself getting close. "Fuuck!... ahh jiyeon-ya, I'm getting close,"

"Ughh fuck yes manager-nim cum inside my ass I need it!!" You could hear the desperation in her voice, so with last of your strength you give her one last thrust and emptied your balls straight into her ass. You stay inside her ass until your cock goes soft and pull out seeing the mess you made, her ass gaped and filled to the brim with cum.

[soulstagger]

How cruel it was for Jeanne to maintain their eye contact, to witness such colorful emotion, but to return to Yuuna eyes devoid of any true feelings or connection. Perhaps that's the worst part of it, that Yuuna might be made to feel all these things, with someone who was undoubtedly, incapable or uncaring to ever feel any of this back.

The fact she could make someone feel so loved, without truly controlling their mind, merely undoing so much pain and misery, so much experience wiped away just to enjoy this moment again. To have that power, and yet decide to abuse it so thoroughly. That was cruelty.

"Ohh Yuuna~ My cute bunny, you want and want. Hush~" Jeanne inches her closer, whatever is pushing inside Yuuna seems to fill the space perfectly, snug and deep. Yet as Jeanne said, the exact feeling of it, is being robbed from her.

It's like a ghost feeling, like it's not even properly there, and with such a foreign sensation Jeanne still refuses to allow Yuuna to look.

"You're already mine, and you'll remember it with every girl you find yourself clung to. They'll tame you, they'll rock your world I'm sure, but at the night's end... you'll still be at home fingering yourself, wondering when Belle-sama is going to visit."

Another kiss, like Jeanne is using it to dispel the mystery of what she put inside. As their lips meet, as Jeanne teases her tongue, the sensation of something hot and burning returns to Yuuna all at once. The last few minutes of Jeanne pushing that real shaft inside of her, hits the poor bunny like a tidal wave of feeling.

Yet she doesn't let go still, their kiss drags on as Jeanne stands with Yuuna. The girl being so light, she allowed them to sink onto that shaft as it reaches deeper and deeper, textures and strange like a witch could make. Like it's a rare toy turned real, perhaps it's too scary for Yuuna to look at directly. Or maybe Jeanne just wants to see her eyes as she loses her mind, the bindings holding her warming up a little as the toy inside her rear pistons faster.

"Fuwah~" A soft bounce given, Yuuna's carried so easy and pushed around so harshly by just the sheer movement of Jeanne's hips.

The witch bites her lip one last time, to trickle red for Yuuna's eyes to see. "Come~ One last kiss, one last taste of my blood to bring this sensational moment to a close. Be a good girl, cum until your brain's numb Yuuna."

Those lips meet hers one last time, taking one hand away from Yuuna's cheek, the other holding her chin so firmly as the pace below her rapidly picks up.

Jeanne's extra hand glides down to Yuuna' chest, the same place she changed her sensitivity the first time. And slowly, it rises up. Drawing that line as her pace increases as Yuuna is trapped in that kiss.

Not as high as the last time but part way up her body, to consume her in this moment as Jeanne hilts the poor bunny on her formed shaft. Trapped in an unending kiss as Yuuna gets what she wished for, that hot filling feeling amidst her orgasms, the toy in her rear pushed all the way in, spurting the same hot feeling. While warm blood trickles down her mouth into her throat.

Even worse than being overwhelmed or growing numb from being so used to any kind of treatment, -or many ways of getting fucked- was the sensation of having sex with a lover for the first time. That moment in which she still believed in love. In which she only had eyes for her first partner…in which the genuine passion for one another was the one to guide them without caring for anything else.

Moments that made her feel bittersweet. She used to be a softer girl, convinced that there would be someone to take her heart forever, but what did she get in the long run? People stepping over that heart, using her, going with another when she wasn't looking, getting tired and bored of her…reminding her all the time that she wasn't enough.

That they only got close because she was pretty, a good fuck, popular and with a great future ahead of herself.

She felt as vulnerable as when she lost her virginity while in the witch's arms…and she hated it. She hated feeling that vulnerable again. Mainly because having someone make her feel like this, as if she could genuinely feel loved through all these lies was an addicting sensation.

She hated it.

"H-haaaaahn!~…H-HAH!~…H-HMNGH!~…G-GAAAHN!~"

Yuuna was a moaning mess at the moment, her whimpering in-between almost cute and innocent while her ass was filled and used; eyes starting to water more due to the mix of conflicting feelings inside her chest.

When another kiss came, the bunny girl reciprocated it with the same intensity, having difficulty to keep it up for long when she needed air, but letting her moans get muffled against the blonde's mouth.

For a moment, her mind really was enough clouded to the point she felt like this was love. But it wasn't. Her ideas of love and liking had already melted with the years.

But she wanted to believe, for a moment-

"H-HMNGAAAHN!~…J-Jea-" A tear finally rolls down her cheek when Jeanne removes her fingers from inside her wet entrance, whimpering even louder and taking a sharp breath when she could feel herself reaching a climax from everything even as those fingers left her; hips moving on their own, or attempting to do so, even if she was tied and squeezed by the tendrils around her body.

But then, she's forced to keep her eyes on the witch's own. Another tear sliding down her cheek as she stares into those intense and bright red eyes. They were no comfort, they may as well have been the eyes of a demon, and yet, her mind was racing with thoughts, her mouth stuttered to mumble something that made sense, and it was only when the mysterious something was pushed inside her pussy that she tried arching her head back a little.

"H-Hmngh!!~…I-I want to be yours!…p-please I want to be yours!…H-HAH!~…p-please J-Jeanne-sama!!…c-claim me-…f-fill me up…mark me…p-please-"

What the fuck was she saying? If she could get rational at the moment, she would be hitting herself for spurting something like that in the heat of the moment.

But she didn't have room to think rationally at the moment, not when it felt so good, when her mind was melting- this embrace being something she didn't want to end.

Little did she care about what entered her pussy, because anything that entered her from Jeanne would catapult her directly to Heaven.

[sangdepigeon]

God I fucking hate the way it's trendy now for women to say they wanna be stay at home wives. I guess have fun cleaning your husband's socks or whatever. They obviously have every right to do so, doesn't mean I don't think it's stupid. You can't all marry rich men, and men are so unpredictable you can never guess if they'll dump you when you're older and have fallen ill or if they'll cheat, you cant guarantee a man will provide for you, and you can't guarantee he'll treat you like an equal and not his maid if he does provide for you. Y'all talk so much shit about men but are back to trusting them like it's the 1950s and you don't have a choice.

[killjoy-prince]

Ray's After Ending is so funny because for a good chunk of it, most of the RFA members are knocked out by V's sleeping gas (Saeran is immune, Saeyoung isn't present bc he was kidnapped by his agency under his father's orders and MC wakes up in like an hour) but the game has a call feature where you can call the characters and it would be a waste if you couldn't use it bc the characters were unavailable so instead they have other people pick up the call (Jumin's driver picks up Jumin's phone, Jumin's father picks up Zen's phone, Yoosung's friends and mom pick up Yoosung's phone and Jaehee's coworkers pick up Jaehee's phone) and we do get to learn about the characters from outsider's point of view but it's so funny to me that these people are visiting their loved ones and suddenly the phone rings and they decide to just. answer it. and start talking to this stranger they've never met

[bruces-midlife-crisis]

Southern California is on fire

In 2024, L.A. Mayor Karen Bass defunded the LA Fire Department by $17.3 million.

The LA Police Department, however, got a $138 million budget increase.

Among the firefighters, 30% of them are inmate firefighters who are risking their lives for $2 an hour. Only for them to not be able to get a job as a firefighter once they're released.

There are now 4 fires burning across Socal. The one getting the most attention is the Palisades fire which has grown to over 11,000 acres. Alongside it is the Altadena fire (over 10,000 acres), Hurst fire (700 acres), and Lidia fire (50 acres).

Due to the unprecedented Santa Ana winds, which have blown to over 100 mph, firefighters have not been able to make a dent on these fires.

A thousand homes have been destroyed. Two people lost their lives from the Altadena fires.

Instead of showing sympathy for the thousands of victims, right wing conspiracy theorists on twitter are blaming the fires on the LA Fire Chief, who is a lesbian, while Trump is blaming CA Governor Gavin Newsom for not removing water from a delta that would have endangered a native species.

Not climate change. Not the Resnicks, a billionaire couple who took control of California's water supply and now use over 150 billion gallons every year for their companies.

If you're in Southern California, please download the Watch Duty app. It brings up to date information on the fires along with evacuation zones. If officials tell you to evacuate, you do it. Make sure you look up shelters and mutual aid organizations in the area where you'll evacuate to. If you have to abandon your car, please move it to the side or leave your keys in the car so firefighters can move it out of the way.

The consequences of this disaster will be catastrophic. It has become increasingly clear that our government officials will not protect us as they would rather fill their own pockets. Stick together. Protect your community as best as you can.

Please keep Southern California in your thoughts. We're going to need them.

[casinorabbit]

It was almost ironic how everyone's mind always ended up thinking of someone else. Perhaps Yuuna wasn't aware yet because she wanted to forget really badly about Jeanne, but the witch would eventually come back as flashes in her mind once she realizes that getting off here, with Flavia, wouldn't feel like enough.

She's been used to that feeling. It's why she always chased going at it over and over again…why her body seemed restless with getting horny even when she least needed it, often becoming a problem when it got in the way of her normal activities.

Now she was here, feeling that generously-sized member against her crotch, getting the needy bunny to whimper a bit more; arms making sure to keep the other girl close.

She doesn't even resist when Flavia uses one of her hands to take her jaw in order to move her head. She's fine with the other biting, kissing or sucking. In fact, a hot breath of her own escapes her lips when she can feel Flavia's own breathing against her sensitive skin.

"F-Fuck…y-you're still saving me, big girl-…h-hmn-…" The moment Flavia frees that cock and lets it slap against her soaking cunt, the bunny girl would push her hips against it more by mere instinct; rabbit ears falling back for a moment when those teeth start to mark her skin.

She has to do her best to swallow a soft yelp from it, but she liked it, shivering violently as her tail vibrated and wanting…NEEDING more of it.

She can feel Flavia missing with the first thrust, but all the dancer does is lift one of her legs a bit more to align herself with Flavia better, until she can finally feel that hand over her mouth, and the girthy member getting inside her. It slides in perfectly, not only because of how wet Yuuna was, but also because her body have wanted it, so her inner walls don't get tight until she's filled and they can hug the invader.

Yuuna's inhibitions are still broken due to the alcohol and the drugs fueling her body, so even with that hand over her mouth, the bunny girl would end up moaning as soon as she was bitten again and Flavia started to ram her hips against hers, inevitably so even if she partially tried to swallow her sounds.

She's almost aggressive in her movements, but Yuuna likes them all the same, although perhaps as expected, as soon s her mouth is uncovered and all that's left is Flavia's thumb over her lip, the bunny girl lets these part so a few successive moans could escape her throat, almost desperately.

As she hugged Flavia closer, the dancer would rest her head against the wall, while trying to let her leg move and flex, perhaps in hopes that the other would actually pick her.

"H-Hmngha!~…h-haaaahn!~…" Her greedy walls tightened against Flavia's temporal dick as if her life depended on it, following every one of her breaths as if she was going to break. And god, she loved the sounds they made together. It was hard to ignore how lewd hips against hips echoed in the alley, specially with thrusts so wet.

"H-Hmngh!~...m-my god-...g-girl!...h-hmn!!~...y-you really wanted and needed this too, h-huh?...h-hahn!~..."

Yuuna's words are almost unhealthy for Flavia to hear, in a moment of sudden shock and layered commands from that first experience surfacing. To hear Yuuna so encouraging towards desires that the bunny has no idea Flavia's suppressing, even the mention of being rough.

Her breathing accelerated, she feels like she did when Ame pulled her on top. Even now thinking about her, maybe it's how Miku felt, thinking about another woman. Perhaps Yuuna does the same? So many thoughts hampering her mind, Flavia hardly notices how much she's already pushing that gift against Yuuna.

"C-claim but... it's ... we're.." In public, barely out of sight? Even as her mind goes over those worries, her hands fall prey to passions. As Flavia huffs her hot breath on one side of Yuuna's neck, the other is caressed by her hand before taking her jaw and turning her head away.

The other pulls that thin fabric underneath her skirt just off to the side, letting that heated thing slap against Yuuna before her wet entrance pushed against it.

"I..I'm not trying to.. it's.. I was saving you Yuuna, and now.." She can't handle it, Edina's changes urge her to bite, and so she does. Those adorable fangs push into Yuuna's skin, enough to mark them but not enough to pierce for blood.

It's a bite that surges through her body, pausing her hips to push forward with a small thrust. The first push misses, but as she aligns herself for the second, her hand holding Yuuna's chin slides up over her mouth.

The next push slots it right in, suddenly, the size and shape Yuuna desires is made and now stretches her inner walls as if Flavia was made for her.

Her fangs bite just a little harder, arousing her more before breaking her nibble to bury her face into Yuuna's shoulder. Realizing now that she's become just like the people she saved Yuuna from, ramming her hips so roughly into this horny rabbit...

Rabbit... the reminder of that woman only spurs her on, almost like there's a tinge of anger in her movements. Though only for a moment, sliding her hand off Yuuna's mouth but leaving her thumb to push against her lips.

"Yuuna.." Would she be loud, would Flavia have to cover her mouth again? It's not like her sudden and rough motions had stopped, so transfixed in the allure of this odd rabbit.

[rosegolden13]

Princess Treatment w/ John Price

His workaholic habits do not stop after he leaves base to come home to you...

We already know he's opening up every damn door for you. He has the magical skill of knowing when doors need a push or a pull so he never fails to laugh when you pull a push door. "Tha's why you shoulda left it to me, love. Stubborn thing, you are." He'll reach over your head to push the door open for you, plopping a kiss to your hair while he does.

His masculinity does not get in the way of holding your purse for you whenever you're out together, his big bear hands wrapped around the handle of your little black purse.

He refuses to let you carry your own luggage, doesn't care if it takes him multiple trips to get both of your bags into the hotel or rental house. He'll get all exasperated if you insist on helping. "You had a long drive. Lemme handle it, pet." (even though he's the one that drove...)

There's nothing he loves more than ordering for you at a restaurant. His voice is filled with an unreasonable amount of pride when he says "And for the missus..." before telling the waiter your order.

Speaking of food, if you ever eat anything that needs cutting or even doctoring up, expect him to jump in. "Now, now, doll, you know tha's my job." He'll tsk and gently take the knife from you to cut your steak into bitesize pieces or to butter your roll. Yes, he will go as far as to bring the fork up to your lips and feed you if you don't put up a fuss.

He will absolutely pay for your manicure and then coo when you offer him your hand to show off your new nails. "Real pretty, love... Don't go chippin' 'em now. Come sit."

Price always sets up a nice place for you on the couch or bed, blanket at the ready and pillows right where you like them. "Come on now, Mrs. Price." He'll pat the spot next to him like one would for a dog. Of course, he likes it best when he can be your pillow and personal heater (that man is always warm, always) but sometimes he's got to find a way to coax his little love into his arms and away from chores.

Naturally, he will swat your hands away when you bend down to tug on your heels or tie your sneakers. He'll crouch down to place your foot on his bent knee, patting your calf firmly and leaning in to press a kiss to your ankle once he's done.

If you nick yourself while shaving, he'll level you with a disapproving stare and then insist that he do it for you next time. After all, he has plenty of experience with keeping his facial hair so tidy. "Can't have my woman hurtin' herself, now can I?" You bet your bottom dollar he's using his fancy razors and shaving creams on you, extra delicate to make sure he doesn't mar your skin.

He's terrified to smoke around you after you coughed one (1) time and now he only will take his cigars out on the back porch or in his office with the window open. If you come in, he'll snuff it out asap and usher you out of the room, shushing your protests.

I'll probably eventually add a part two cuz soft Price is everything to me hehe... Can you tell my standards are ridiculously high?? Also, does anyone have an accent writing guide for TF-141?? I am painfully American.