#ok I’m done now! I absolutely love every part of this 🤗 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rosemariiaa · 3 months ago

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~All Eyes on You~

part: 2

pairing: Paige x Oc

a/n: ok i really like the way i made the insta kind of post! yes paige is a stalker but we knew that lol! pretty long.. anyway happy reading lovelies 💌

warnings: teasing, language, sexual innuendos

Enjoy!!!

Victoria.C

curls or no?

Liked by paigebueckers and others

| paigebueckers ouu who’s this diva? 🤗

↪️ Victoria.C hi paige :)

comments…

It had been a week since the charity event, and Victoria couldn’t shake the thought of Paige. They’ve been having more interactions ever since that night. Everything about their brief conversations lingered in her mind—how easy it felt, how Paige seemed genuinely interested in her, and the way she could make Tori laugh without even trying.

Jason had been worse than ever lately, blowing up her phone with his usual jealousy and controlling bullshit. Every interaction with him felt like a chore, draining her more than she was willing to admit. But there was one bright spot in her life lately—Paige.

It wasn’t just that Paige followed her on Instagram; it was the comments, the messages, the way Paige seemed to pop up at the perfect moment to distract Tori from everything else. Like now, for instance. Tori had posted some selfies from her car and bathroom showing off her glowy tan skin and bouncy curls. It wasn’t anything special, but Paige had commented almost immediately.

I’m liking what i see princess. You ever have a bad day or nah?

Tori smiled, her fingers hovering over her phone as she tried to think of something witty to say back.

Princess? Don’t gas me up too much, Bueckers. You’ll give me a big head.

She sent it, then rolled her eyes at herself. What am I even doing?

But her phone buzzed almost immediately.

I mean, if the shoe fits. I call it like I see it.

Tori laughed quietly to herself, trying not to grin too much. Paige had a way of making her feel like the only person in the room, even over texts.

You’re ridiculous, you know that?

Only sometimes. Admit it though, you love the attention.

Tori’s heart raced a little as she typed out her next message.

Who says I’m not getting attention from other people?

Lmao. Okay, Tori. I see you.

But let’s be real, none of those other people are me.

Tori bit her lip, trying not to let her smile get too big. Paige was right, though. There wasn’t anyone else like her.

For the rest of the night, they kept texting back and forth, the conversation getting more playful, more flirty with each message. Every time her phone buzzed, it was Paige, saying something that made Tori forget about the stress in her life, if only for a moment.

But Jason’s messages kept coming too. His jealousy was getting worse. Tori hadn’t even done anything, but that didn’t stop him from accusing her of talking to other guys, demanding to know where she was and what she was doing.

Why the fuck are you ignoring me?

You better not be texting anyone else right now.

Saw you liked Paige Bueckers’ post. You think I’m fucking stupid? What, you into girls now?

Tori groaned, tossing her phone onto the bed. The dude was insufferable. Why am I still with him? Her phone buzzed again, but this time it wasn’t Jason. A message from Paige lit up her screen, and she couldn’t help but smile as she opened it.

You still up? Or did I finally bore you to death?

I’m still here, don’t flatter yourself.

What are you up to?

Trying to find something to watch. You got any good recommendations or nah?

I bet you got trash taste.

You think I’m about to let you roast my TV taste? Absolutely not.

Lmao, come on. What are you watching? I need new shit to binge.

Honestly? I’m rewatching the big bang theory because I have no life.

Damn, guess I’m the only exciting thing going on for you lately, huh?

Tori rolled her eyes at her phone but couldn’t stop smiling.

Please, don’t flatter yourself. You’re like… mildly interesting at best.

Oh yeah? Then why do you keep texting me back?

That comment made Tori pause. She stared at the message for a second longer than she should have, feeling that little spark in her chest again. Why do I keep texting her back?

Touché.

Thought so.

You gotta admit, I make your day a little better. I can tell you’ve been smiling at your phone this whole time.

Okay, chill. You’re not all that.

Nah, I’m definitely all that.

Tori laughed out loud, biting her lip to stop herself from grinning so hard. Paige was… too much. But she was exactly what Tori needed right now. Something light, something fun, someone who didn’t make everything so heavy and complicated. Paige made her feel like she could breathe again, even if it was just through a screen. The smile lingered on Tori’s face as she typed her next message.

Alright, I’ll give you that. You make my day a little better.

See? Was that so hard to admit?

Next step: you stop pretending and just tell me you miss me.

Tori laughed softly at her phone, shaking her head.

Miss you? We hung out like once.

And yet, here we are, texting like old friends.

You miss me, Tori. Just admit it.

Tori’s heart raced a little. Paige was flirting, clearly. But it wasn’t over the top. It was just enough to keep Tori on her toes.

She paused before typing back.

Maybe I do.

The message hung there for a second, and before Tori could second-guess it, Paige’s response popped up almost immediately.

Knew it.

Tori shook her head, laughing to herself. Paige’s confidence was kind of infuriating, but also… incredibly attractive. She was about to type something else when her phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn’t Paige.

It was Jason. Again.

You haven’t responded to me in hours. You’re probably texting someone else, aren’t you?

Her smile instantly faded, and the familiar wave of frustration hit her. She didn’t even want to look at his texts anymore. He’d been getting worse every day, his possessiveness suffocating her.

She was so tired of it. Of him.

But then her phone buzzed again—Paige, like a breath of fresh air.

You good?

Tori sighed and hesitated for a second before responding.

Honestly, not really. Just dealing with some shit.

Damn, sorry to hear that. Anything I can do to help?

Tori smiled weakly at her phone. Paige didn’t even know how much she was helping, just by being there, just by distracting her from the mess that was her life.

You’re already helping. I think you might be the only thing keeping me sane right now.

I’m glad I could provide some entertainment. But seriously, Tori, if you need to talk, I’m here.

That message made Tori pause again. Paige wasn’t just flirting anymore. She was genuinely offering to be there for her. And that made Tori’s chest tighten in a way she wasn’t prepared for.

Thanks, Paige. I really appreciate that.

She stared at the screen for a moment longer, the weight of everything hitting her all at once. The mess with Jason, the suffocating relationship she was stuck in, and this new connection with Paige that felt so easy, so right. Tori closed her eyes, trying to shake the thoughts from her mind. But one thing was clear—Paige was the one thing keeping her grounded right now.

————-

Victoria wakes up to the soft morning light filtering through her blinds. Her phone is the first thing she grabs, almost instinctively checking her notifications. There’s a lingering buzz of excitement as she hopes to see another message from Paige. She scrolls to her Instagram, the post Paige had commented on staring back at her. There’s something about seeing Paige’s name and comment that makes her heart race a little faster than she’d like to admit.

God, why am I so stuck on this? It’s just Paige…you’re average blonde white chick.

But just as she’s about to scroll past the comment, her phone lights up with a text from Jason.

Jason: “Good morning. You doing anything today?”

She stares at the message, rolling her eyes. He always acts like everything’s fine after being possessive and picking fights. She feels her stomach sink a little as she realizes she’s more disappointed about not hearing from Paige than about Jason’s text.

Jason texts again before she even has the chance to respond.

Jason: “You didn’t respond last night. Where were you? Who were you with?”

Victoria groans, tossing her phone to the side. This is exactly what’s been draining her. The constant questioning, the insecurity. She’s tired of it. After a moment, she picks up the phone again, deciding to ignore Jason for now. Instead, she heads to Instagram, pulling up her DMs. Paige’s name is right there in the conversation list from last night, and Victoria bites her lip, wondering if she should make the first move this time.

She hesitates for a second before typing:

“You alive?”

A few moments pass, and Victoria starts second-guessing sending the message, until her phone vibrates. It’s Paige.

“Barely. What’s up?”

Victoria smiles, feeling a little thrill run through her. This is already the highlight of her morning.

“Just checking if last night’s convo knocked you out.”

“Please, Tori, I’m unstoppable.”

“Unstoppable, huh? Is that what they’re calling it now?”

“You’ll have to see for yourself.”

Victoria’s heart skips a beat at the response, and she’s suddenly very aware of the smile on her face.

But just as she’s about to respond, her phone starts ringing—it’s Jason, again. With a frustrated sigh, she declines the call, dropping her phone beside her on the bed. She knows she can’t avoid him forever, but right now, she’d rather think about Paige and this… whatever it is between them.

After a few more minutes of talking with Paige, Victoria feels bold enough to suggest meeting up. She hesitates for a second, typing and deleting before finally sending the message.

“You in the mood for a coffee run?”

She stares at her phone, anxiously waiting for Paige to respond. It doesn’t take long.

“Always. I’ll pick you up in 30.”

Victoria smiles, her stomach doing a little flip. She quickly gets out of bed, throwing on something casual but cute—just enough to catch Paige’s attention. A lacy v neck white top and ripped jeans, with her hair pulled up into a messy bun. She checks herself in the mirror, satisfied, before heading out the door.

————-

30 Minutes Later…

Paige pulls up outside Victoria’s place, driving a sleek black jeep. Victoria gets in, and immediately, the energy between them is different—charged, but comfortable. Paige gives her a once-over, smirking as she pulls out of the driveway.

“Damn, Tori, is this your casual look? No wonder you’re always blowing up on my phone on literally every app.”

Victoria rolls her eyes, feeling her face heat up despite herself. “Please. I barely post anything.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Paige says, side-eyeing her with a teasing grin. “Had to scroll back pretty far through insta.” Victoria’s eyes widen. “Oh, so you’ve been stalking my Instagram now? That’s funny but i’m not surprised.”

Paige chuckles, shrugging as if she doesn’t have a care in the world. “Touché. But let’s not act like you weren’t waiting for me to like those photos.”

Victoria’s heart skips a beat at Paige’s confidence, and for a second, she’s not sure how to respond. Before she can think of a clever comeback, they pull up to a small, cozy coffee shop tucked away from the main street. They step inside, and the atmosphere is warm and inviting. The smell of freshly brewed coffee fills the air, and there’s a soft hum of chatter around them. Paige leads the way to the counter, glancing back at Victoria.

“What are you having?”

Victoria shrugs, looking over the menu. “I’ll probably just get a latte.”

Paige grins. “I’ll grab it. You go find us a spot.”

Victoria nods, heading over to a quiet corner of the shop by the window. She sits down, taking a deep breath, trying to figure out why her heart is racing like this. She knows it’s because of Paige, and the more she tries to ignore it, the more obvious it becomes.

Paige joins her with their drinks, sliding the cup over to her. They sit in a comfortable silence for a moment, just sipping their coffee and watching the people outside. “So,” she begins, her voice soft, “what’s got you all wrapped up lately? I noticed your texts seemed a little off this morning and last night.”

Victoria exhales slowly, the weight of Jason’s constant nagging starting to bubble to the surface. “It’s just… Jason. He’s been more possessive lately. I didn’t answer his calls last night, and now he’s acting like I’m hiding something from him.”

Paige raises an eyebrow, her gaze sharp. “He sounds like a piece of work.”

Victoria laughs bitterly. “Yeah, you could say that.”

Paige leans back in her chair, crossing her arms as she looks at Victoria. “So, what are you going to do about it?” Victoria fidgets with her coffee cup, feeling the weight of the question. She knows what she should do, but it’s not that easy. “I don’t know. I’m just… tired, you know? Tired of always being the one who has to calm him down or reassure him. It’s exhausting.”

Paige watches her for a moment, then reaches across the table, placing her hand over Victoria’s. It’s a small gesture, but the warmth from Paige’s hand sends a comforting jolt through her.

“You deserve better than that, Tori.”

Victoria looks up, her eyes meeting Paige’s. There’s something in the way Paige is looking at her—soft but intense, like she really means it. Victoria feels her chest tighten, the air between them suddenly thick with tension. “Yeah, maybe I do.”

They sit like that for a few more moments, the coffee shop buzzing around them, but all Victoria can focus on is the feeling of Paige’s hand on hers. The moment feels significant, like a shift in something she didn’t even realize was happening. After finishing their coffee, Paige stands up and stretches, glancing out the window. “You up for a walk? It’s too nice out to head home already.”

Victoria smiles, feeling a little lighter after talking things out with Paige. “Yeah, a walk sounds perfect.”

They leave the coffee shop, stepping into the bright sunlight, the early morning air crisp around them. The city is alive with people going about their day, but there’s a sense of calm between them as they fall into an easy stride. Their shoulders occasionally brush against each other, sending subtle but electric jolts through Victoria.

As they walk, Victoria notices a puppy trotting along the sidewalk with its owner, its tiny tail wagging furiously. Without a second thought, she gasps and kneels down to greet it.

“Oh my god, hi!” she coos, her voice softening as she reaches out to the little fluffball. The puppy bounds over to her, immediately licking her hand. “Aren’t you the cutest thing ever?” Victoria laughs, her entire face lighting up as she pets the puppy, her fingers scratching behind its ears. She leans down even more, planting a soft kiss on its nose.

Paige watches from a few steps back, her heart swelling at the sight. There’s something so genuine and carefree about Victoria in this moment—it’s like all the stress and frustration she’s been carrying with Jason just melts away. Paige can’t help but smile, feeling her chest tighten for a whole different reason now.

“You’re good with dogs,” Paige says, her voice lower as she watches Victoria with soft eyes.

Victoria looks up from the puppy, her smile wide as she scratches behind its ears one more time. “I’ve always loved dogs. I want one so bad, but with everything going on, I’m barely keeping my head above water.”

The vulnerability in her words hits Paige, and she steps closer, slipping her hands into her pockets. “You’d make a great dog mom,” she teases lightly, her tone warm. “Maybe you can get one when things calm down… or when you ditch the extra baggage.”

Victoria lets out a small laugh at that, standing back up. “Yeah, well, we’ll see if that happens anytime soon.”

They continue walking, but now there’s a shift. Victoria is more relaxed, and Paige keeps stealing glances at her, admiring the way her face softens when she talks about the things she loves, the way she glows in the sunlight. She wants to say something, but she keeps it to herself for now, not wanting to push anything too soon.

As they walk a little farther, there’s a comfortable silence between them. Victoria is lost in her thoughts, feeling lighter, while Paige is struggling to hold back how much she’s enjoying this—how much she’s enjoying her.

Eventually, Victoria speaks up again. “You didn’t say much back there when I was venting about Jason,” she says, glancing over at Paige. Paige shrugs, her gaze still focused ahead. “It’s not really my place, you know? But for what it’s worth, you seem like you already know what you need to do.”

Victoria sighs, shoving her hands into her hoodie pockets. “Yeah… I do. I’m just scared of actually doing it.”

Paige stops walking, turning to face her. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, Tori. You’ve got this. And I’m here for you… whatever you need.”

Victoria looks up at her, surprised by how genuine Paige sounds. Her heart skips a beat as Paige’s words sink in. She’s not used to someone being so… supportive. It’s not something Jason has ever given her, and it makes her realize just how different things feel with Paige.

“Thanks,” she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Paige smiles, her gaze lingering on Victoria’s eyes for a second longer than necessary. “Anytime.”

As they continue walking, Paige can’t help but bring the conversation back to Victoria’s interaction with the puppy. “I gotta admit,” Paige says with a smirk, “watching you go full soft mode on that puppy was pretty cute.”

Victoria scoffs, a blush creeping up her neck. “Oh, shut up,” she laughs, shoving Paige’s shoulder playfully. “You’re just jealous.”

Paige raises an eyebrow, her smirk widening. “Jealous? Please. If anything, I was just wondering if you’d give me the same amount of attention.”

Victoria stops in her tracks, turning to face Paige with a teasing grin. “Oh? Is that what you want, Bueckers? For me to pet you and kiss your nose?”

Paige bursts out laughing, but there’s a glint in her eye as she steps closer to Victoria, closing the small distance between them. “I mean… I wouldn’t say no to that,” she teases, her voice dropping a little, making Victoria’s heart race.

Victoria rolls her eyes, feeling her face heat up. “You’re impossible.”

Paige just grins, leaning in a little more, her face inches from Victoria’s now. “And yet, you can’t seem to stay away.”

Victoria feels the breath catch in her throat, her pulse quickening. She’s suddenly all too aware of how close Paige is, how the air between them feels electric. But instead of pulling away, she smirks, meeting Paige’s gaze head-on.

“We’ll see how long that lasts,” she says, her voice low but playful.

Paige’s grin doesn’t falter. “Oh, I’m not going anywhere.”

After their walk, Victoria can’t shake the feeling of warmth that’s lingering. As they make their way back to her place, Paige is walking a little ahead, and Victoria finds herself watching Paige, her thoughts wandering.

Why does everything feel so different with her?

It’s been gnawing at her since their first encounter, but now it’s undeniable. She can feel it in the way her heart skips every time Paige flashes that stupid, confident smile. She never felt this way with Jason—not even close. Sure, Jason had a certain pull over her, but it was never like this. Never this… easy.

As they approach her apartment, Victoria’s mind is racing, the weight of it all finally hitting her. This is more than just a little crush. This is something real, something I can’t ignore anymore.

Paige glances back at her, catching her staring, and smirks. “You good, Vic? You look like you’re lost in space.” Victoria snaps out of her thoughts, blushing slightly as she catches up. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just… thinking.”

“About me, I hope,” Paige teases, winking as they walk through the front door.

Victoria rolls her eyes, trying to play it cool. “You wish.”

But inside, her heart is doing flips.

Once inside, Victoria offers Paige a drink before they settle on the couch. Victoria flips through the TV channels aimlessly, trying to distract herself from the way her pulse quickens with Paige sitting so close to her. Paige stretches her long legs out, getting comfortable as she steals the remote from Victoria’s hand.

“I’m picking something,” Paige says with a grin, not even waiting for a response as she scrolls through Netflix.

Victoria just shakes her head, a small smile playing on her lips. How is she so effortlessly charming?

As they settle into a show, the room falls into a comfortable silence. Paige’s presence feels calming, but at the same time, Victoria can’t focus on the screen at all. Her thoughts keep drifting back to how right this feels. Being with Paige doesn’t feel forced or exhausting—it’s natural. It’s easy.

She can feel the tension between them, like an unspoken question hanging in the air, and for the first time, she lets herself admit that she doesn’t just like Paige. She wants her—her attention, her smile, her everything.

But then the doubts start creeping in. What am I even doing? She just sorta got out of a messy situation with Jason, and now she’s falling for someone else? Is this even okay?

Paige must’ve sensed her sudden mood shift because she nudges Victoria with her elbow. “You sure you’re good? You’re super quiet all of a sudden.”Victoria takes a deep breath and glances at Paige. Her heart flutters when she meets her gaze—those blue eyes piercing into hers, searching for something more.

“I’m… Yeah, I’m good,” Victoria finally says, but her voice wavers a bit.

Paige narrows her eyes, not buying it. “Bullshit.”

Victoria lets out a soft laugh. “Okay, maybe I’m not fine. It’s just…” She hesitates, unsure if she’s ready to spill everything.

Paige leans in, her arm resting on the back of the couch as she watches Victoria intently. “Look, you can talk to me, Tori. What’s going on?”

Victoria bites her lip, feeling the weight of the moment. She looks away, staring at the TV, but she’s not really seeing anything. Her mind is racing, trying to sort through her feelings.

“I don’t know,” she finally admits, her voice quiet. “It’s just…” She inhaled sharply before speaking again. “I’ve been feeling things. For you. And it’s weird because I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. Not even Jason.”

Paige stays quiet, letting Victoria continue.

“I guess it’s just confusing, you know? Because I’m not used to… this.” She gestures between them, her cheeks flushing slightly. “It’s new. But it feels… right. And that freaks me out.”

Paige watches her, a slow smile spreading across her face. She shifts closer to Victoria, her hand lightly brushing against her leg. “You think I don’t feel the same way?” she asks, her voice low and playful.

Victoria’s breath catches as she glances down at Paige’s hand on her thigh. She swallows hard, her pulse racing.

“I wasn’t sure,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper.

Paige’s fingers trail up her thigh, sending shivers down Victoria’s spine. “Well, now you know.”

The air between them crackles with tension, and Victoria feels her body responding to Paige’s touch, every nerve alive and buzzing. She turns her head to face Paige, their eyes locking in an intense gaze.

“You’re so cute when you’re nervous,” Paige teases, her lips curving into a smirk as her hand inches a little higher.

Victoria lets out a breathy laugh, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

Paige leans in closer, her breath warm against Victoria’s ear. “And yet, you still want me.”

Victoria’s cheeks flush red, but she can’t deny the truth in Paige’s words. She does want her. Every inch of her is screaming for it, but there’s still a small part of her that’s holding back.

“I just…” Victoria starts, her voice trailing off as Paige moves even closer, her lips brushing against Victoria’s jawline.

“Just what?” Paige whispers, her lips ghosting over Victoria’s skin, sending chills down her spine.

Victoria’s breath hitches, her heart pounding in her chest. She can barely think straight with Paige this close, with her vanilla scent filling her senses and her touch setting her skin on fire.

“I just… don’t want to mess this up,” she finally says, her voice trembling slightly.

Paige pulls back just enough to look into Victoria’s eyes, her hand still resting on her thigh. “You’re not going to mess anything up, Tori,” she says softly, her voice gentle now. “I promise.”

Victoria’s heart flutters at the sincerity in Paige’s voice, and for the first time, she feels a sense of calm wash over her. Maybe she’s overthinking this. Maybe it’s okay to just… feel for once.

Victoria breaks the tension with a small smile, her usual confidence returning. “You think you’ve got me all figured out, don’t you?” she teases, her tone lightening.

Paige grins, leaning back slightly but keeping her hand on Victoria’s thigh. “Pretty much, yeah.”

Victoria rolls her eyes, but she can’t help the smile tugging at her lips. “You’re so cocky.”

Paige laughs, her fingers giving Victoria’s thigh a playful squeeze. “Only because I know what I’m doing.”

“Oh, do you now?” Victoria shoots back, her voice playful as she raises an eyebrow.

Paige leans in again, her lips dangerously close to Victoria’s. “You tell me,” she whispers, her eyes flicking down to Victoria’s lips.

Victoria’s heart skips a beat, her breath catching as she feels the tension building between them again. She knows she should probably slow down, but right now, all she can think about is how much she wants to close the gap between them.

Victoria doesn’t hold back this time. She leans in, pressing her lips softly against Paige’s, her hand sliding up to cup the back of Paige’s neck. Paige doesn’t hesitate to respond, deepening the kiss as her fingers tighten on Victoria’s thigh.

The kiss is slow at first, both of them savoring the moment. But as the tension between them builds, it becomes more heated, their bodies pressing closer together.

Paige’s hands move to Victoria’s waist, pulling her even closer as their kiss intensifies. Victoria’s fingers tangle in Paige’s hair, a soft moan escaping her lips as she feels the heat between them rising. But before things can go any further, Victoria pulls back slightly, her breath coming in soft pants as she stares into Paige’s eyes. “You’re so fucking hot,” she whispers, her voice full of admiration.

Paige smirks, her hands still resting on Victoria’s waist. “I could say the same about you angel,” she replies, her voice low and teasing.

They share a small laugh, the intensity between them softening into something more playful. But even as they joke, the tension is still there, simmering just beneath the surface.

Victoria stands up, stretching her arms above her head, trying to shake off the lingering heat from their kiss. “Alright, get out,” she says playfully, motioning toward the door but not quite ready for Paige to leave.

Paige raises an eyebrow, her lips curling into a teasing smirk. “Oh, now you’re kicking me out? Just when things were getting interesting, baby.”

Victoria feels a flush rise to her cheeks at the nickname, her heart racing. “You think you can just charm your way in and out like that?”

Paige takes a step closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I don’t just think it; I know it. You’re the one who’s flustered, princess.” She leans in, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “Look at you—blushing like crazy.” Victoria bites her lip, fighting back a smile as she tries to maintain her composure. “Shut up. I’m not blushing.”

Paige leans in even closer, brushing her fingers lightly along Victoria’s arm. “Sure you’re not. But you know, if you wanted to see how flustered I can make you, all you had to do was ask.”

Victoria can feel the tension building again, her heart racing as she locks eyes with Paige. “And what if I don’t want to know?” she retorts, trying to sound defiant but failing miserably as her voice wavers slightly.

Paige grins, clearly enjoying the playful banter. “Oh, come on. You know you want to find out. Just imagine what else I could do to you if I had you all to myself, all night long.”

Victoria swallows hard, her pulse quickening as she imagines the possibilities. “You’ve lost it.”

Paige takes another step closer, their bodies nearly touching now. “I mean, I’m just saying… It could be fun.” She brushes her thumb across Victoria’s jawline, tilting her head slightly to meet her gaze.

“Fun?” Victoria repeats, her breath hitching as Paige’s hand slides to her waist, pulling her in closer. “Like, how fun?”

Paige leans in again, her lips brushing against Victoria’s ear. “Oh, I think you know exactly what I mean, Tori. But maybe you’re just scared to find out.”

Victoria gasps softly at the sensation, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness flooding her system. “I…”

Before she can finish her thought, Paige’s expression turns playful again. “But I know the rules. If you want a sleepover, you’ve got to earn it.” “Ugh, seriously?” Victoria rolls her eyes, but she can’t help but smile, her competitive spirit igniting. “You think you can just tease me and get away with it?”

Paige steps back toward the door, winking at her. “Oh, I know I can. And trust me, I’m up for the challenge if you are. I will definitely get that sleepover soon.”

As Paige turns to leave, she glances back one last time, her eyes smoldering with desire. She closes the gap between them, capturing Victoria’s lips in another heated kiss, deepening the connection as she pulls Victoria closer, their bodies fitting perfectly together. Victoria melts into the kiss, her fingers tangling in Paige’s hair, feeling the warmth radiating between them.

Paige pulls back slightly, their foreheads resting together, both breathing heavily. “You taste so sweet,” she murmurs, brushing her thumb across Victoria’s cheek. Victoria’s heart races, her cheeks flushing. “You’re not too bad yourself, Bueckers.”

Paige smiles, leaning in for another kiss, this one soft and lingering, full of promise. Victoria’s hands slide down to Paige’s waist, pulling her even closer, their bodies pressed tightly together. The kiss deepens, and Paige’s hands roam over Victoria’s back, sending electricity coursing through both of them.

As they finally pull apart, both breathless and slightly dazed, Paige smirks. “Now, that’s how you earn a sleepover.”

Victoria chuckles, her heart racing. “Good luck with that. You have some serious competition.”

Paige leans in once more, brushing her lips against Victoria’s, teasingly whispering, “Oh, I thrive on competition, you know that.”

As Paige turns to leave, she glances back one last time. “Goodnight, princess,” she whispers, her voice low and sultry.

Victoria watches her go, her heart racing and her thoughts a jumbled mess. “Goodnight, Bueckers,” she replies, trying to sound casual but feeling anything but.

As the door clicks shut, Victoria leans against it, taking a moment to catch her breath. What the hell just happened?

———-

tags: @thaatdigitaldiary @patscorner @ohbueckers @mrsarnold

#rosie fics #all eyes on you #paige x oc #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #rosie moots #rosie’s works 🎧⋆｡ °⋆

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echotoyou · 2 years ago

Text

JADE OH MY GOODNESS THE QUIPS ALREADY HAVE ME BY THE THROAT AHHHHHH

More bitter than the taste on your tongue is the realization that you might die with it

*i* died laughing

You can faint on top of the finish line, so long as some part of you crosses it.

HAHAHAHA oh NO

You should be used to it by now, running a marathon at a dead sprint. That’s all you’ve ever done — push yourself. You attended your first day of preschool and never stopped, never took a breath. Through elementary, middle, and high school; then for four years of university. Going, going, going.

oh dear lord that’s me jade how could you perceive me like this

Your concept of self is rooted exclusively within the context of a classroom.

OH DEAR LORD JADE

ok i didn’t go to law school but i did go to grad school and the hellsat is the funniest thing i’ve heard it called

might have been the start of a quarter-life crisis.

have you heard this song (https://open.spotify.com/track/7BmpRLqZg1vLheYi1SI1Rw?si=NuKNeoAQTAK-ctr-p8aGpw) bc YES CAN CONFIRM

After all, you’d spent nineteen years delaying gratification — what difference would three more make?

HAHHAAHHAAAAAAHHHHHHHH THAT IS PAINFUL AND SO TRUE

wow if only i had a seokjin disassociating next to me in orientation where would i be now WHERE

scared shitless and riddled with buyer’s remorse

HAHHAHHAHAHAHHA

MY HEART JADE THIS IS PRECIOUS

Seokjin, patron saint of breakfast sandwiches 🥹🥹🥹

GRABBY HANDS

If you try hard enough, maybe you can summon some sort of psychic energy, make it levitate towards you.

HAHHAAHAHHA

“Didn’t we go to law school because we can’t do math?”

SO TRUE

You swallow down the last bite of your sandwich, which you downright hoovered 😂😂😂😂

“Is this your way of asking me to Venmo you for breakfast?”

HAHHAHAHH

Over the course of three years, you’ve built up quite the case against yourself.

oh oh OH JADE

Well, the jury’s still out, but you know you’re guilty.

OMG JADE

JQBSIWOKWNSNWN

Just like that — just by Seokjin being Seokjin — the hellscape you willingly walked into gets a little brighter. Maybe, you think, you can do this. 🥹🥹🥰🥰🥰

“Great. Now, what does any of that mean?”Without missing a beat, he fires back, “Does anyone know?” “Absolutely not. Next question!”

HAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

There’s one person he responds to, no matter what.

eeeeeeee!!!

None of the breakfast sandwiches he ever stops for are.

oh my oh my oh my

ITS ALL LATIN 😂😂😂

You give his knee a pat that feels a tiny bit patronizing, but that makes his pulse race, nonetheless.

EEEEEEEEEE!!!!!

omg he is so DOWN BAD JADE THIS IS PRECIOUS

OMG THE GAME

AHHHHH THEYRE SO CUTE

Fuck, he wants to get you off. 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

He’s not scared shitless, not really. Not when you’re around. 🥺🥺🥺

OH. MY. FUCKING. JADE. GOD. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

HAHAHHA THEYRE SUCH NERDS I LOVE THEM

He seems more than content just to hold onto you, whether or not he needs you to keep him steady. You have no complaints, for once in your life. 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

To your surprise, he’s not smirking. Not even close. If anything, he looks awestruck. Like he’s finally realizing what he does to you

ICHAHAIKFNAJSJJFHAJKDNBDS AHHHHHHH

It’s petal soft and subak sweet, but it functions like a defibrillator. 😩😩😩😩

and every meaningful thought you’ve ever had goes flying out the fucking window

HAHAHHAHAHA SO TRUE BESTIE SO TRUE

🥰💕😂😮‍💨🤪🤗✨☺️

JADE IM SCREAMING I WANT SO MUCH MORE OF THEM AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

absolutely obsessed when two people are whipped for each other oh my gosh this had excellence of a 400,000 word 30 chapter slow burn IN SEVEN THOUSAND WORDS

JADE

WHAT

they are just too darn sweet and their back and forth banter is EVERYTHING. this had me dying laughing every other line (the law jokes got me EVERY DAMN TIME) there’s no way this is your first jin smut no WAY he’s PERFECT

holy damn i’m gonna need a min (or five 🤪) have i told you recently that i love you?!?! and your BRILLIANT brain?!?!?

meet me at the bar (ksj)

You're supposed to be staring down the barrel of the last — and most important — examination of your life, but you only have eyes for your study buddy.

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x AFAB!Reader Type: One Shot | Fluff w/ Smut | 18+ — Minors DNI Word Count: 7.5k AU: Law school, study-buddies, best friends to lovers, highly educated idiots in love CW: Bad jokes, Latin, fingering (v), unprotected sex (p in v), Seokjinnie hits it from the back. A/N: My inaugural Seokjin smut is dedicated to my donsaeng-in-law (see what I did there?) @yoongiphoria, who is now embarking on this stupid, stupid gatekeeping journey IRL. Best of luck, my lil love. I'll be waiting for you on the other side of the war! MJ FIGHTING ~ Big ups to my other lil love, M, for beta reading 💕 Also: This is written based on my experience in the American legal (educational) system. I was, frankly, too lazy to study up on South Korean law for a fanfic, lol. ⚠️ 18+ only ⚠️ minors and ageless blogs will be blocked, on sight. my content is not for you. i do not want to interact with you. please respect my boundaries.

You are not spiraling.

You are a paragon of health and wellness, you tell yourself as you gulp down a mug of coffee that is still far too hot, like you’ll die without it.

More bitter than the taste on your tongue is the realization that you might die with it — your third cup in fewer hours. As far as you can tell, though, it’s a win-win situation: You’ll either generate enough anxious energy to finalize your property law flashcards, or you’ll drop dead before you have to review them.

And you won’t have to take that exam…

And you won’t have to pay off your student debt…

Besides, you figure, the stomach ulcer you’re likely inflicting on yourself will be infinitely less painful than dragging your under-caffeinated corpse through yet another day of studying. Another eight, consecutive hours spent forcing forgotten subjects back into your maxed-out brain.

It’s worth it, you repeat to yourself, though this gauntlet has turned out to be a full-time job that steals, rather than pays. You can faint on top of the finish line, so long as some part of you crosses it.

Stumbling through that eighteenth lap around the track, you kept going because — well, being a student all was all you’d ever been. That’s your toxic trait, you’ve since discovered. Your concept of self is rooted exclusively within the context of a classroom.

You didn’t know it at the time, but your decision to take the Law School Admission Test — or the HellSAT, as you’ve come to call it — might have been the start of a quarter-life crisis. But you didn’t stop there. No, you took that score and ran with it. Slapped it onto every application as a desperate plea for acceptance.

When you received your admission letter, you were a bright-eyed twenty-two-year-old with a bachelor’s degree and a vaguely defined dream.

Call it naïveté or call it gravitas, there wasn’t a doubt in your smooth little brain that law school was the logical next step to take. That being intelligent and hard-working made you well-equipped for the challenge that came with pursuing a Juris Doctor. After all, you’d spent nineteen years delaying gratification — what difference would three more make?

Within the first hour of your orientation, you — a professional student — had already learned something new: You were a masochist and, frankly, somewhat of an idiot.

Thankfully, you weren’t alone.

Sitting — dissociating, more like — at a nearby table was a lanky boy you’d first noticed on your tour of the law building. His glassy-eyed stare was aimed somewhere in the middle-distance, and even though his slightly agape mouth said nothing, it communicated everything. He was the only other person in that atrium who looked the way you felt: scared shitless and riddled with buyer’s remorse. A can crushed under the boot of self-doubt.

It was the first time you and your wobbly knees went running in his direction, but it wouldn’t be the last.

He was so deep in a daze at that moment that he didn’t notice the way you threw yourself into the open chair next to him, didn’t look up at the scrape of wooden legs against the granite floor beneath them. He nearly jumped out of his skin when you announced your presence with words, however.

It was less of an introduction — the way people in a society tend to greet each other for the first time, ever — and more of a twister. Words whipped through the air at a dangerously high velocity, no syllable ending before you started on the next. Just one breath, a few consonants, and a pair of dark eyebrows shooting up to cower behind his bangs.

“Was — was that Korean?” He asked when you finally ran out of wind.

Judging by the way his wide eyes softened, you knew he wasn’t making fun of you. You’d simply scrambled his brain so thoroughly that you’d transcended the known limits of language.

More of a question than an answer, you peeped, “I think so. Maybe?” You wavered with a sigh. “I’m no longer confident that I know any of the things I thought I knew, though. So, um, don’t quote me on that.”

“You’re giving me too much credit. I didn’t catch enough of whatever that was,” he gestured vaguely, “To even attempt to quote you.”

Within seconds and without knowing, he’d disarmed the bomb ticking away in your gut. He must’ve sensed it, too, because his face lit up so completely that you had to look away. One glance at the floor-to-ceiling windows confirmed that the sun hadn’t reappeared at that time of night.

That rush of warmth you felt then — that absolutely insane brightness — was powered exclusively by the grin taking up the entirety of his face. If that megawatt smile alone hadn’t rerouted your oncoming anxiety attack, the distinct, squeaking laugh that erupted out of his chest would’ve done the job.

You doubled over, either under the weight of your own giggling or with the relief you felt in finding someone equally lost. Eyes swimming with mirth, you wiped wetness from your cheekbone and snorted, “Was that a windshield wiper?”

“No, that was embarrassing.”

The tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks went some dizzy shade of pink.

He rubbed sheepishly at the back of his neck with one hand and held the other out to shake yours, “And I’m Kim Seokjin.”

Now, when the door of your apartment flies open without warning, it’s that same savior standing on your threshold. That designation may be melodramatic, but if that brown paper bag contains what you suspect it does, it’s deserved.

Seokjin, patron saint of breakfast sandwiches, flops down on the couch that stretches along the opposite side of your coffee table. From where you sit on the floor — hunched over your notes like a hobgoblin — you reach out your expectant arms and make grabby hands in the space between you.

You see mischief flash in his eyes, but only for a second. In the next, he’s pretending like he doesn’t see you; doesn’t hear your petulant little whines. He extends long legs out over the cushions, clutches the bag to his chest, and lets his head roll back to rest on the couch’s arm.

“Wanna know what I did today instead of practice essays?” He asks, eyes unfocused on the ceiling above.

All you actually want is whatever that smell is. You can’t stop staring at the bag of food in his hands. If you try hard enough, maybe you can summon some sort of psychic energy, make it levitate towards you.

He doesn’t wait for your response. “The math.”

“Huh?”

You frown; and as you do, you reluctantly shift your gaze from Seokjin’s hands to his face. He isn’t looking your way, but you can tell he’s grimacing based solely on the way his jaw twitches. It’s a miracle he hasn’t ground his teeth to dust over the past three years, given how often he makes that face.

In an attempt to ease the tension in his posture, you snort, “Didn’t we go to law school because we can’t do math?”

He cracks an unwilling smile. A tiny one, but a smile nonetheless. Without turning his head, he extends his arm out in your direction. In the split second it takes for yours to spring forward like a snake, that blessed bag dangles; the scent of sausage, egg, and cheese wafts through the air and restores your will to live. Clutching your prize, halfway to feral, you tear into it without hesitation.

As you bite off more than you can chew, Seokjin prepares his rant with a sigh, “So, consider this.”

“Mmphf,” you advise through a mouthful of greasy bliss.

“Bar exam prep takes eight weeks, right? If we’re only counting business days, that’s forty — forty days, for a minimum of eight hours each.”

He becomes more restless, the more he talks. Heated, he sits bolt upright and turns wild-eyed to you.

Oh, he’s gone full-tilt insane.

“Three-hundred-and-twenty hours, then. And if you think about that in terms of our clerk wages —” He slaps his hands down on his thighs for emphasis. “— at 2,625 won per hour —”

Then, he points to you, as if the increasing volume of his voice wasn’t already holding you hostage. “— we’ve sacrificed nearly two million won in income, just by studying for this fucking test.”

You swallow down the last bite of your sandwich, which you downright hoovered while Seokjin took the path of most resistance. After clearing your throat, your interjection overlaps with his next point:

“Seokjinnie, why didn’t you just double our monthly —”

“That’s after we paid ninety million in tuition, hundreds of thousands on study materials and registration fees —”

You cut him off, “Is this your way of asking me to Venmo you for breakfast?”

He freezes, caught fully off-guard. Shocked eyes widen like you’re the ridiculous one. “Of course not!”

He waves you off like his thoughtful gesture is no big deal. Then, like he’s tired himself out, he sinks back onto your couch. From his back, he grumbles with crossed arms, “‘M just sayin’ that I’m tired of this shit.”

You can’t help but giggle at the pathetic pout working down the corners of his mouth. “Felt,” you agree, though it feels a little bit like a lie.

Truth be told, you feel more awake now than you did ten minutes ago, and you can’t attribute it to the coffee — not when the evidence so clearly indicates otherwise.

Over the course of three years, you’ve built up quite the case against yourself. You’ve made the following findings of fact:

Whenever he pops up, Seokjin brings your mood up with him. Even now, as he marinates in anguish on your couch, his presence gives you a reason not to beat yourself unconscious with the four-kilogram prep book that sits beside you on the rug. Makes you hate your circumstances a little less, if only because you share them with him.

And, for a rapidly deflating balloon, you have to concede that Seokjin looks stunning this morning.

Unlike you and your day-three hair, he somehow had the energy to wash his. The mid-sections of some strands are still damp; the parts that aren’t frame his face in fluffy waves. His shampoo is something fruity mixed with something crisp — grapefruit and mint, maybe? — and it floods your senses, causing question marks to replace any coherent thoughts you might otherwise have. You’d be lying again if you said you didn’t want to find out for sure how soft those tresses really are.

The verdict?

Well, the jury’s still out, but you know you’re guilty.

If being down this bad for your best friend isn’t a criminal offense, it should be.

You shake your head to clear it. To smother the flame licking up the inside of your belly, you grab the certified mood killer off the coffee table and hold it up in front of you. Surely, the cure for a sexual tension headache is an eight-centimeter stack of color-coded, neon index cards covered in information you shouldn’t need to memorize in the first place.

“Exam’s in one week,” you say with a shiver.

Seokjin rolls onto his side to look forlornly at you. You are not looking at his bare hip bone, which appears where the hem of his shirt shifts from the waistband of his joggers. Nope.

You continue the search for the point you’re trying to make. “I can barely spell mortgage, let alone explain what the fuck to do with one.”

“Don’t think I know what land even is at this point,” he sighs. Dejected, he lets his arm go limp. It spills off the edge of the cushion and dangles until his knuckles brush against the rug. “What is this property you speak of?”

Biting back a grin is impossible, so you press your lips together instead. Just like that — just by Seokjin being Seokjin — the hellscape you willingly walked into gets a little brighter. Maybe, you think, you can do this.

You look down for a moment to shuffle up the cards you spent the better part of two days preparing. As you stare down at the staggering amount of knowledge you might be tested on, you can feel the crease returning between your eyebrows. Your grimace is back, too, like a reflex.

If you make it through this experience without premature wrinkles, you’ll be shocked.

There’s shifting on the couch ahead, but you don’t look up until Seokjin breezes, “From this angle, it almost looks like you’re smiling.”

His arm is no longer dangling off the edge of the couch. His entire upper body is. Knees now hinged over the backrest for balance, he’s upside-down and smirking impishly at you.

He has to know you’re in love with him, right? How could he expect you not to be?

You clear your throat and arch a single eyebrow as a challenge. “What is the rule against perpetuities, Seokjinnie?”

Like you, he can recite it in full at a machine-gun rate of fire. It’s been beaten so far into your heads that you might utter it on your deathbeds, with your last gasping breaths.

“No interest in land is good unless it must vest, if at all, not later than twenty-one years after some life in being at the creation of the interest,” he responds with a smug smile. “Easy.”

It’s your turn to smirk.

“Great. Now, what does any of that mean?”

Without missing a beat, he fires back, “Does anyone know?”

“Absolutely not. Next question!”

Having had the same day, every day, for seven weeks straight, Seokjin is struggling. He’s spent hundreds of hours on the same routine, feeling beaten down and burnt out, all the while. It goes like this:

Every morning, he wakes up and goes for a run in a feeble attempt to feel something other than dread. After that, he eats a lackluster breakfast, and then he promptly chains himself to his desk. When he finally gives himself permission to get up again, it’s dark out; and he’s too brain dead to check the hundred or so notifications that amassed on his phone during his fugue state.

Scratch that. There’s one person he responds to, no matter what. As far as everyone else is concerned, though, he’s a ghost.

Today is the first day out of the last fifty-five where Seokjin doesn’t feel like his brain is being hydraulically pressed. For the first time in too long, he fell into an old routine; one he’s missed. It started with a shower — and honestly, that was overdue — then, he swung by the café he’s frequented over the past three years. There, he made his usual order.

One iced americano, and one sausage-egg-and-cheese croissant with extra hot sauce.

Before he walked back up the block, he downed the former, but he didn’t touch the latter. The latter wasn’t for him, anyways. None of the breakfast sandwiches he ever stops for are.

The subsequent hours looked semi-similar to the three-hundred-and-twenty he’s already devoted to studying. Well, sort of. To be clear, the subject matter still sucks, and he’s still angry that he has to touch it at all, but he isn’t waiting for the sweet release of death in the same way he has been all summer.

This might have something to do with the fact that, for the first time in nearly sixty days, he’s not on his own.

More than that, he’s with you.

Having switched away from covenants, easements, and servitudes, he feels a slightly less stupid. Contract law is a little more straightforward and a little less caked in colonialism. Unfortunately, after six hours of burning all his brain cells on shit like liens, Seokjin has begun his descent into madness.

The worms are digging in, he can’t focus, and neither of you can stop — fucking — laughing.

“I’ll give you a hint,” you giggle, shifting in your spot on the neighboring cushion. You give his knee a pat that feels a tiny bit patronizing, but that makes his pulse race, nonetheless. “It’s a Latin term.”

He snorts so loudly that you do a double-take, just to make sure it wasn’t a sneeze. You both stare at one another for a beat, then comes the eruption.

“It’s all Latin!” He roars.

To muffle the way he’s wheezing, Seokjin slaps his hands over his face. It’s already tear-stained from his abject failure to keep his shit together. At least he can attempt to hide how red he knows it is.

Your laugh comes straight from your belly. You double over completely when his comes out in squeaks, hand reaching out to squeeze his forearm. It used to bother him, the sound he made when he truly loses it, but it doesn’t any more.

How could it, when it makes you cling to him like that?

Wiping at your cheeks, you take a deep breath, then sigh, “Does it help if I give you the translation?”

He doubts it because you just pinched your bottom lip between your teeth, and now, his mind is blank.

Really, it’s a fucking miracle he graduated at all with you around. You and that face you make when you concentrate have always made it impossible for him to do so. It’s why he wasn’t paying attention in class when this shit was taught in the first place, he realizes now.

To cool himself down, Seokjin grabs the Camelbak bottle off the coffee table, realizes too late it’s yours and not his — oh, well — and shoves the straw into his mouth. He nods once, firmly, and sucks in as much water as he can.

It all sprays back out of his mouth when you say:

“Naked promise.”

He had always wondered what his life would look like if it ever flashed before his eyes. Now, he knows. It’s not a montage of his finest moments, the most recent of which would not have made the cut. All he sees is you, wide-eyed, glancing between him and the wet spot that’s now soaking through your sweatshirt.

You press your lips together, probably to keep from laughing in his face. It’s a valiant effort on your part and a kind gesture, but honestly, he doesn’t deserve it. His fingers twitch as he clutches the bottle, wanting nothing more than to dump the remaining water on his face. He embarrasses himself more often than not, but this stings his cheeks like a sunburn.

“I am —” he raises his hands, flustered, “So sorry. I don’t remember waking up in a sitcom this morning, but I, uhhh, clearly did.”

When you stand up, you’re grinning. And not in that scary way you do when you’re about to retaliate for some prank he’s pulled. No, that look on your face is genuine amusement.

Thank god.

You shrug as you cross your arms over your torso and grip the hem of your sweatshirt with both hands. “All good, Seokjinnie,” you laugh. “This needed to be washed, anyway. You see that coffee stain?”

No.

No, he does not see that coffee stain because the tank top underneath your sweatshirt is clinging to the wet spot as you tug the top layer up your stomach. He feels bad for staring — really, he does — but fuck, your skin looks soft. Like, so soft that he has to grip his water bottle to keep a grip on himself.

Eventually, your tank top separates from your sweatshirt. It falls back down to where it belongs, to Seokjin’s dismay, and the sweatshirt keeps going.

“Nudum pactum,” you remind him as you pull the drenched hoodie over your head. Playfully, you toss it at him. It smacks against his chest, splays out over his lap.

Once more with feeling: thank god.

You sink back down beside him on the couch, and he can’t help but notice that you’re the tiniest bit closer than you were before. It’s innocent, just your bare knee bumping his shin as you re-cross your legs. Still, it leaves his tingling through the fabric of his joggers when you don’t move away.

The silence surges as it settles, crinkling like static in his ears. He almost doesn’t hear you when you ask him again: “What’s it mean?”

Uhhhh.

“It means —”

Unfortunately for him, the water he just forcibly ejected from his mouth didn’t help him. His throat is dry now, and he sounds strangled, he’s sure. The way you’re watching him so intently doesn’t help one fucking bit, either.

Are you doing that on purpose?

You nudge him physically this time, knuckles connecting gently and playfully with his leg. He wonders if you can hear his heart hammering against the wall of his chest in all of this quiet. You might, he figures, especially when you tuck your hair behind your ear.

Instinctively, his eyes flick down to the length of your neck. Without a curtain of hair in the way, it’s even more exposed skin that he doesn’t know what the fuck to do with. Making matters worse for him, you tilt your head to the side expectantly. His breath catches when he tears his gaze away, back up, and sees the way you’re looking at him now.

You are absolutely — without a goddamn doubt — doing this on purpose.

If that’s the game you want to play, Seokjin can play it, too. He turns away from you to set the bottle back down on the coaster he took it from. As he does, he finally answers your question — the nonchalance he’s faking even sounds convincing.

“It’s an unenforceable promise,” he replies casually. “One with insufficient consideration.”

He rights himself in his seat, stretches a bit further backwards until he’s resting comfortably against the arm of the couch. You hide it well, but there’s a hint of a pout on your lips when you clock the newfound distance.

Check, he smirks to himself, your move.

A flash of pink slips out. Your tongue wetting those lips before you prompt him more quietly than before, “And consideration is…?”

He slips up, makes the mistake of noticing the rise and fall of your chest as you take measured breaths. So, he sees, you’re buzzing with anticipation, too. He wonders if it’s him that’s having that effect on you, or the circumstances.

For all he knows, it could be pent up steam that you need to release. Stress weighing down your body that you want to get off.

Fuck, he wants to get you off.

He swallows thickly. “Can’t get something for nothing. There has to be an exchange, otherwise it’s meaningless.”

You say nothing, so he keeps talking.

“Quid pro quo, essentially,” Seokjin adds. He chuckles slightly when he realizes. “See? Told you. It’s all fucking Latin.”

The corner of your mouth twitches at his joke, but you don’t make a sound. The hand that previously pushed against his leg inches closer, just barely. It’s such a small shift that you don’t seem to realize that you’re moving it.

Maybe you feel that pull, too; the one he’s been fighting since you barged into his life without warning.

Maybe the consideration has been there from the start; a promise for a promise. I’ll jump if you do. Because it’s always been that way, hasn’t it? Since orientation.

Pulling all-nighters in the library, developing matching caffeine dependencies, getting sick too often from the strain of it all.

You and him.

Laughing quietly in the back of lectures, cold sweats through cold calls, bitching about unpaid internships while you spend indisposable income at the bar down the block without acknowledging the irony.

There are only two real differences between this night and that first one, he notes.

Now, Seokjin isn’t questioning every decision he’s ever made that led him to this point. He’s not scared shitless, not really. Not when you’re around.

You cut through the silence with a sigh that’s barely more than an exhale, so breathy that your voice dissipates as soon as it hits the air.

“Seokjin.”

He could probably hear a pin if you dropped one — can hear everything you don’t say. It’s all packed tight inside that utterance of his name like gunpowder, locked and loaded.

So, who shoots first?

You shift again. Now, when you speak, it’s deliberate and in a language he can parse.

“Tell me you want me, too.”

Bang!

His body answers for him, pushes off from where he leans until he can get his knees underneath him. He’s waited three years to kiss you, but he can delay gratification for the brief time it takes to overtake you. Pinned with his palms bearing weight on either side of your head, you wind up caged in and breathless beneath him. His right knee occupies the space between your spread thighs.

Again, it’s a miracle he’s made it this far with you around.

He hums, beyond pleased with the position he finds himself in. “Maybe. Tell me if I got the answer right.”

“Oh my god.” You toss your head back to the extent that you can, which admittedly isn’t far. Your frustration rolls off you in waves, heat palpable. “I’ll kill you, I swear.”

“Sounds admissible to me,” he teases further. He flexes an eyebrow. “Isn’t that an exception to the prohibition of hearsay evidence? Speaks to motive, I think.”

Seokjin has no idea why he’s riling himself up like this. If he could shut up — just this once — he could be kissing you by now. You seem to be aware of that fact, too, because you grip his shirt so desperately, one right move might tear it.

You huff out a laugh despite the circumstances, “This friendship is over, by the way, in case that’s not clear.”

That tiny smile on your face spreads to his. Not over, he knows, just modified. Amplified, finally. Knowing that, he continues to push his luck.

“Can I make one more joke?”

“So over!” You emphasize with a wail.

He takes a second to center himself before hitting you with award-winning drama, sincerity dipped in the kind of humor he never misses out on with you:

“You have adversely possessed my heart.”

Your jaw drops at how stupid that line was, but you reign it in just in time for his lips to crash into yours.

It almost knocks the wind out of him, the way the pieces fall with force into place. They slot together easily, just like you do. With fingers clinging, the weight of his body molding overtop of yours.

You kiss him until he forgets what life tasted like without your tongue licking into him, your little moans melting in his mouth — until you break apart, gasping for air. Panting, you ask, “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting on you?”

He doesn’t, no, not at all. Thankfully, you take his stunned silence for what it’s worth. After relinquishing your grip on his shirt, you bring your hands up to cup his face gently in your palms.

With you touching him like this, he has no option but to stare down at you. Bit redundant, he thinks, since his focus has always been locked right here, right on you, by choice. Given that, it’s a little funny that he managed to miss every signal you’ve apparently sent him. But really, it doesn’t necessarily surprise him to hear that he’s even dumber than he thought.

You kiss him slowly this time, briefly, before nipping affectionately at his bottom lip. It drives him exactly as crazy as you want it to; makes his cock twitch inside his joggers, makes his brain foggy with a potent combination of fondness and filth.

Do you have any idea how many times he’s thought about this? He’s genuinely wondering because even he doesn’t know. He’s lost count of all the times he’s watched you nibble on your own lip and wished it was his instead. A million or more, if he has to guess.

Seeming to sense the way you've scrambled his brain, you nudge the tip of his nose with yours and giggle.

Seokjin can’t help but grin. “What’s so funny?”

“Thought of a good one,” you answer. Your smirk does his head in. The contrasting, goofy wiggle of your eyebrows squeezes his heart. “Better than yours, I think.”

He kisses you quick and hums, “Oh?”

You nod.

The suspense is killing him. So is the way your clothed cunt grinds ever so slightly against his thigh.

Fuck.

He wants you, he wants you, he wants you.

“You gonna make me come, Seokjin, or do I have to wait for you to file a subpoena?”

You may have to seek a refund for the prep course you paid for.

For as long as you can remember, you’ve learned best through application. You could read the same chapter, over and over, and not absorb a word. The same was true with lectures, even more so when they’re pre-recorded rambles by the weirdest adjunct professors known to man. Sure, you may eventually memorize concepts this way, but they don’t sink in deeply enough to stay. You can’t use them in any way that helps you.

To no one’s surprise, no part of your civil procedure lecture sticks until it falls into your lap.

Strike that.

Until Seokjin loses his balance in trying to take his pants off, and falls onto your floor with a yelp.

A moment or two passes while you stare at each other in shock, but that dissolves quickly. And so do both of you, right into another fit of laughter that makes your shoulders shake. Then, you jump to your feet and hold your hands out to him.

Seokjin accepts them, though he doesn’t rely on them at all when he stands back up. He seems more than content just to hold onto you, whether or not he needs you to keep him steady. You have no complaints, for once in your life.

Shaking his head, he chuckles, “Venue change?”

“I think —” You hum and kiss the column of his throat. He swallows hard enough that you feel his Adam’s apple bob against your lips. So sensitive. “This is what they call forum non conveniens.”

He’s having none of that, and you don’t necessarily blame him. As it turns out, the shoe isn’t terribly comfortable when it’s on the other foot.

You’re lifted without warning, bent over his shoulder, and hauled off in the direction of your bedroom before you can even squeak in protest. You drop like a bag of dirt — albeit a beloved bag of dirt — onto your mattress once he reaches it; his lips are on yours to swallow the gasp before it can leave your mouth.

As eager as his mouth are his hands, roaming down the curve of your waist and over your hips. With fistfuls of the pajama shorts you hadn’t bothered to change out of, his head dips down under your jaw. The warmth of his breath is quickly replaced by that of his tongue, flicking a short, languid line along your neck.

“Want you so fucking bad,” he breathes. A shiver shoots straight down your spine and you keen, head crashing gracelessly back against the pillows. “Just like this.”

And he means it — you can feel how true it is with him settled between your spread legs. He presses his hips forward to meet your clothed cunt, cock teasing you through four goddamn layers’ worth of fabric.

His lips flutter against your earlobe just seconds before his teeth graze your flesh. He continues, voice vibrating through his chest to yours, “All the time.”

You outright whimper when he grinds against you a second time. Halfway to crazy, you knot your fingers in his hair and wrap your legs around his back in a silent plea for friction. So hungry for him that it aches.

“Seokjin, need — oh, god.”

You lose your train of thought the second his hand slides into the gap between your bodies. Long fingers slip below the waistband of your shorts and panties, too. He doesn’t stop there. Not with fingertips whispering over the mound of your cunt, not until he finds you wet and wanting.

So wet that you can hear it when the pad of his index finger runs along your slit.

His mouth curves against your neck, prompting you to shift your head on the pillow. You tilt your neck just enough to meet his eyes.

To your surprise, he’s not smirking. Not even close. If anything, he looks awestruck. Like he’s finally realizing what he does to you, how your body reacts to him. From the looks of it, that discovery is flipping his whole damn world upside down.

For once, Seokjin doesn’t crack a joke and neither do you. It’s quiet, save for your tiny gasping breaths and the ripple of his fingertip swirling over your clit. Even the moan building in your chest gets the memo. It disappears somewhere in your throat when — fucking finally — that middle finger penetrates you.

And god, he sounds so wrecked when he finally speaks.

“Tried to imagine it a thousand times, you know,” he murmurs.

You clench around his finger as it curls upwards, shiver when he starts to stroke the sensitive spot along your front wall. His thumb picks up where his middle finger left off, pressing against your clit in a way that makes you mewl.

Seokjin only stops talking to kiss you deep and leave you dizzy. It’s too brief. If asked, you’d never be able to quantify what amount of time is enough, but you know that wasn’t, so you pout.

Ignoring your little whines, he continues with a hum, “How perfect you’d feel, if I ever got this lucky.”

Oh, Jesus Christ.

You laugh as you say it, but you’re dead serious: “If you keep talking to me like that, you’ll never be able to get rid of me.”

Marry me, why don’t you? Beautiful bastard.

“Threat or promise?”

He adds a second finger; and suddenly, you’re not laughing anymore. No, the strangled sound you make while you grind against his palm isn’t funny at all, but you can’t care about that now. Your focus is stuck on remembering how to breathe. In, out. On the stars blinking behind your eyelids when they give up and flutter shut.

He works you open for him like he’s already attuned, like it’s the fiftieth time he’s finger-fucked you and not the very first. And, quite frankly, it’s embarrassing how little time it takes for him to pull you apart at the seams.

No one has ever made you cum with such little effort. You’re scared to learn what it’s like when he tries.

You catch the triumphant gleam in his eye in the split second before you bury your face in the crook of his neck. He’s earned it, you suppose, so you’ll let him relish the personal record he’s managed to set on his first time out. You might even let him brag about it, so long as he continues to make you tremble like this.

“Shit,” he chuckles low near your ear.

If he sounds muffled, it’s because you’re still waiting for your system to reboot. He knows this, knows how fucking sensitive you are, and slides his fingers out of you as slowly as possible. Still, those aftershocks throttle you; the unintentional stimulation makes you jolt.

“Yes,” you nod helplessly, squeezing your eyes and jaw shut simultaneously. “Shit is right. Perfect analysis, no notes.”

A chaste kiss is placed on your temple. It’s petal soft and subak sweet, but it functions like a defibrillator. Within a split second, he’s revived you. Eyes now open again, you exhume your face from where you buried it and blink up at him. Warm brown eyes light up when you reappear.

He’s so fucking beautiful that you almost want to avert your eyes. Key word: almost. You’ll drink in the sight of him until you drown, you think.

Seokjin looks concerned. With a shy smile, he checks in: “You okay? We can stop right now if you’re not.”

You don’t know who they are, but you know that they don’t make them like him anymore. Which is a fucking bummer for the rest of the world — just not for you. This one is all yours.

“You quitting on me, Kim?” You let your knee fall inwards to nudge his side, and you pretend not to notice how boneless you still feel. “Didn’t wait all this time to tap out early, did you?”

He rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning, nonetheless. His warm palm massages the outside of your thigh affectionately, if only for a moment. Then, he pats his fingertips against the same spot. “Shorts off, champ.”

You follow his instructions and move to shimmy out of them, but not before snorting, “Champ?”

“Fine. Old sport?” He offers with a shit-eating grin. Your shirt smacks him in the face once you peel it off and chuck it at him. He pouts. “Hey!”

“Thanks, I hate it.”

He tugs his shirt over his head, launches it over his shoulder without looking. Your unabashed stare immediately clocks the slight hint of his abdominal muscles. Lean, but not sharply contoured in a way that looks painful to touch. Soft. Perfect, even.

What lab were you engineered in?

“For someone with so many opinions, you don’t offer many suggestions.” He shoots you a pointed look while he unties the knot at his waistband drawstring. “What’s your proposal?”

You’d love to bite back at him. Really, you would, but he pulls his boxers down alongside his joggers, and every meaningful thought you’ve ever had goes flying out the fucking window. All that’s left is I want you, I want you, I want you.

Automatically, you reach out with a tentative hand, craving nothing more than to feel his velvet length in your hand. To your surprise, he stops you. He catches your hand in his, lifts it to his lips, and brushes a kiss over your knuckles.

“Rain check, baby,” Seokjin smiles against your skin. There it is. That’s the one. “Need to fuck you, posthaste, or I’ll simply pass away.”

You open your mouth to comment; he breezes right past you. He points to the mattress, then to the wall to your left. “On your side, love.”

That works, too.

“Face away from me.”

Never in your life have you moved so fast, all but throwing yourself down where he told you to. As you land with a slight bounce, you mouth to yourself, Posthaste? Nerd.

A second slips by, then Seokjin slips into the space behind you. His lips tickle the back of your neck when he kisses the base of it, causing you to gasp yet again. Maybe that’s just how you breathe when he’s around — like you don’t know how.

His hand drifts down the length of your side, passing over the doughy flesh of your ass. He gives it a squeeze for good measure — because of course he does — but he doesn’t linger, not now.

That hand continues until you feel his fingertips scratch affectionately at the back of your right thigh. He doesn’t need to ask; you lift your leg, allowing your knee to hinge overtop of his hand. Now that his hands are occupied, you offer yours to assist.

This time, he doesn’t stop you when you wrap your fingers around his length. And fuck, there’s so much of it. Part of you wants to ask where the hell he thinks he’s going to fit all of it, but you’re not a quitter, so you keep your mouth shut.

Seokjin shivers under your touch, breath catching in his throat so blatantly that you can hear it right behind your ear.

“Hmmm,” you tease, squeezing the crown gently as you circle your wrist. “Does that work for you, champ?”

His forehead drops against your shoulder. The groan you force out of him is twice as long as necessary, followed by an unwilling laugh. “You’re right, okay? You’re fucking right. It’s awful. Just so fucking bad.”

Your thumb swipes over his leaking tip, smearing the bead of pre-cum waiting for you there. You’re relentless. “Sure you don’t like old sport better? Huh, buddy?”

“Baby,” he warns. There isn’t much heat to it, but it burns white hot in your core anyway.

The stretch of his cock does, too, when you finally stop fucking with him and start letting him fuck you. The breath he holds as he enters you slowly is let out in a shuddered groan when he bottoms out. Perfectly full and fully incapable of teasing him further, you simply melt back against his chest.

He’s careful to start, testing the waters and refusing to push you too far, too fast. You want more, though, you always have. Greedy, you rock your hips back against him to force him deeper into your weeping hole. He takes the hint, fingertips pressing bruises into the underside of your knee as he picks up his pace — and you’re far too blissed to care.

He pistons into you eagerly, deliberate. His hips clap against the flesh of your ass, but the sting of it all can’t compete with the way he splits you open. Makes you reach back to cling to any part of him you can get your hands on, claim whatever you find for keeps. Buried to the hilt, and somehow, he’s still not close enough.

You’re close, if your fluttering walls have anything to say about it. You’re babbling, too, so lost in pleasure that you can only repeat — over and over — how fucking perfect he is. How perfect for you he is.

Seokjin peppers kisses down the curve of your shoulder as he thrusts. It’s the only real indication you have that he’s at a loss for words, too; that he’s compensating for the quiet. He kisses you with an open mouth, teeth grazing the space he finds, leaves a mess on your sweat-slicked skin.

“Fuck,” he grunts. You mewl. “Can’t stop thinking about —”

“Just like that, please.”

“— how many times I could’ve —”

You wail, “Shit, Seokjin, don’t stop. I’m so close.”

The staccato strokes will be the death of you, you’re sure of it. Thankfully, he doesn’t stop. Not when he kisses the back of your neck again, and not when he murmurs directly in your ear, “— had you like this, if I’d said something years ago.”

Please, please, please.

It’s all you can say, again and again, as if he isn’t already giving you everything you want before you even ask for it. Responding to every movement you make, fucking into you with precision so that each vein of his cock brings friction where you crave it. Fucking you through your orgasm when it catches you in a riptide and sends you reeling.

“That’s it, baby.” His voice is soothing despite the recklessness of his thrusts. “So good for me. So fucking good.”

You’re still gushing when he snaps his hips forward and stills, cock twitching as he lets himself go inside of you. Still trembling when his head droops forward to nuzzle against your shoulder blade, and when you feel his breathing begin to slow in tandem with yours.

Once he pulls himself out of you, a few moments pass in fucked-out silence. It’s comfortable, if you ignore the mess between your thighs — and you do, for now. Your brain is too busy to waste time on that.

You’re exhausted and bordering on delirious when you say it, but that doesn’t make it any less true:

“I might love you, probably.”

He doesn’t respond immediately. He doesn’t move either, which makes you wonder if he’s fallen asleep with his face smushed into your bare back. But you feel the tiniest exhale through his nose; the kind of laugh you get from him when he’s too tired to be any louder.

His reply is muffled, lips still pressed against your skin, but you hear it perfectly.

For the record, he probably loves you, too.

final a/n: i have a follow-up drabble planned for these two! stay tuned 🥰

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#jade the fluff writer extraordinaire #ksj #the one during the hellsat #to reread: slow burn on FIRE #i am obsessed with them #i want them to live VERY HAPPY LIVES #ksj x reader

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