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cheolaholic · 1 month ago

Text

bound to you; jww

summary; With a subtle fire growing between two vastly different souls, are they doomed to surrender to a bond that binds them together? Or... are they exactly what each other need?

abo universe • mafia au • arranged marriage • fluff, smut, angst • hurt-comfort

pairing; jeon wonwoo x f!reader | wc; 22k | rating; 18+ explicit nsfw

contains; mafia boss! wonwoo, florist! reader, alpha! wonwoo, omega! reader, reader knows how to fight back/stand her ground even though she’s submissive, right hand man! woozi, beta! svt members (cheol, woozi, gyu, vernon & chan), mentions of JxW, wonwoo is unhinge but not too unhinged, woozi encouraging/supporting wonwoo to be more unhinged, wonwoo wears glasses, very subtle “where is my wife!?” trope, not really sure who fell first and who fell harder, unplanned pregnancy, the honeymoon scene is sweet AND nasty

mature/trigger warnings; dom! wonwoo, sub! reader, big dick! wonwoo, knotting, biting/marking kink, size kink, use of sex toys, g-spot stimulation, breeding kink, unprotected sex (wrap it before you do the nasty), mating press, implied sex marathon when reader is in heat, somewhat of an aftercare, reader is extremely horny when in heat, wonwoo doesn’t mind bcs he’s just as horny and has really high stamina, tummy bulge, creampies, squirting, that one business proposal scene, drugs (heat inducers, heat/rut suppressants), forced drugging, weapons (guns, knives, needles etc), abduction, violence (it’s a mafia au so, yea), mentions of miscarriage, etc

petnames; his (Nonu, Alpha), hers (Doll, Babydoll)

a/n; RAHH, new fic !! hope yall enjoy this because i sure as hell stressed over this fic way more than i should’ve- was also sick as i tried to finish this out and get it out (by its very overdued deadline rip) big thanks to rae ( @nerdycheol) and supi ( @supi-wupi) for beta reading and sharing their thoughts on it hehe ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

✨ support me by becoming a patreon (enjoy exclusive perks & content) OR tip me on kofi !! 💜 if you are unable to do so, you can also show support by reblogging your favourite works of mine !!

In this universe, there exists a city called Ashville.

A modern city that’s under the rule of an infamous Mafia family that’s been around for generations.

In this universe, each individual is born into one of three dynamics: Alpha, Beta, and Omega. These roles are usually found out before they become teenagers, typically around the ages ten to twelve. Not only do they dictate one’s instincts, but it also determines their place in the social hierarchy.

Alphas stood at the very top of the hierarchy, their presence commanding and unyielding. Known as protectors and leaders, their strength and resolve made them pillars of stability and order. They exude an air of confidence, their pheromones carrying an unmistakable weight that both enthralls and intimidates. An Alpha’s instinct could be a double-edged sword – their need for dominance paired with their sense of responsibility.

Betas occupy the middle grounds, acting as stabilizers so that the world doesn’t get thrown into a world of instinctual chaos. Neither driven by the dominating urges of an Alpha nor bound by the vulnerabilities of an Omega, they serve as the mediators. The voice of reason, if you will. Their neutrality is what makes them the glue that holds society together, but could also be the cause of its downfall if they were to commit treason.

Finally, the Omegas, whose roles are often misunderstood due to their vulnerabilities. They’re the heart of the societal order, their instincts centered on nurture, connection, and to a few, rebellion. They are similar to Alphas in terms of pheromones, but what set them apart would be that an unclaimed Omega’s pheromones could attract unwanted attention from unclaimed Alphas, drawing them in like moths to a flame.

Claimed Omegas would bear the bonding bite of their Alphas. But, in the event an Omega is without a mate, either by choice or tragic events; they are forced into prostitution. It is a sad reality and possible outcome to many. Hence, many Omegas forged paths of quiet defiance, proving that they too are strong without a mate.

Click.

"Can you, please, get a bit closer?" The photographer asks, practically begging at this point.

Wonwoo heaves out a sigh while your shoulders slump, tired from having spent the entire morning posing for your wedding portrait. While it was true that you were somewhat excited to have finally found your mate, let’s just say of all the possible occupations you’ve come up with, a mafia boss was not on that list.

Hell, not even the Jeon Wonwoo was on your list.

The mob boss takes a step closer, placing both hands on your hips and the photographer beams at the sight. “Yes, yes! Just like that!” he exclaims, pulling out his camera as he continues to snap more portraits. Wonwoo feels your body tense up from the close proximity so he leans in close to your ear. “Relax, doll,” he whispers, “You’re tense and you look terrified. Nobody is going to believe that we’re ‘in love’ if you keep this up.”

Click.

“I-I’m sorry,” you squeaked, the grip you had on the bouquet of flowers tightening slightly, “ ‘M just nervous…” “Oh, I know you are, doll.” Wonwoo turns his head slightly, nuzzling his nose into your hair and you let out a quiet gasp, “I can smell it. Do I scare you that much, hmm? Having second thoughts because your mate is the infamous mob boss?” He lets out a low chuckle when you shake your head profusely, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you. “Keep your eyes on the camera, darling. Once this is over, you can go right back home.”

Click.

“Shouldn’t we make preparations for the ceremony?” you asked, “What about the cake? The venue? The–”

“Don’t stress your pretty head, doll,” Wonwoo says, giving your hips a light squeeze, “I’ve settled everything and your preferences have been taken into account, too. I’ll contact you for the cake tasting and venue checking.”

“And, it’s a wrap!” the photographer announces with a wide smile, “Thank you so much Mr and Mrs Jeon! I promise you won’t be disappointed with the results!”

You weren’t sure if the photographer was always this… enthusiastic with his clients. Or if he was holding himself back from pissing himself. ‘I’d be terrified too if the Jeons were my client…’

Not one soul didn’t know who the Jeons were. What started off as a small group of delinquents had eventually grown into one of the largest mobs to run Ashville. The man who started it all, Jeon Wonsoong, was a man who could send even the Devil running with its tail between its legs. While most mobsters were practically built on wealth, the Jeons’ were quite the opposite.

Jeon Wonsoong had built the mob of the Jeon family from scratch – from the literal blood, sweat and tears of his companions and oftentimes, those who had crossed him. The Jeons had their respect earned, not given on a silver platter. Many have mocked Wonsoong when he began building a name for the family – claiming that he was too ambitious, that he’d be better off as an underling.

They were the very same people he’s overthrown.

Just a mention of the Jeon family name was enough to drain anyone’s face of their colour.

Decades later, enter Jeon Wonwoo, the one and only beloved grandson of Jeon Wonsoong. Wonwoo already had the responsibilities of being the next mob boss ever since his mother’s pregnancy was announced. Wonwoo grew up watching how the “family business” worked, seeing his father fire bullets through heads after heads of rivals or anyone and anything that could be a threat to the family.

The poor boy was terrified at first but by the time his teenage years rolled around, he’s pretty much grown numb to the fear and squeamish feeling of seeing piles of bloodied dead bodies.

He’s watched the drug dealings, the smuggling – the most atrocious crimes or businesses known to man would be committed by the Jeons’, yet they would refuse to inflict any form of harm onto women and/or children for pleasure.

Wonwoo remembered bringing it up to his father when he was 16.

“Your grandpa is a family man, son. He’d never harm a child for the wrongdoings their parents have done – that’s why he takes them into the family and raises them to be his men.”

“What about crimes against women?”

“Crimes against women is unfortunately something that cannot be stopped, regardless whether or not the perpetrators are in a mob,” Wonsoong replies as he enters the room, one hand linked with his grandmother’s while the other held onto his walking stick, “We may be mob bosses, crime lords – whatever it is they call us, Wonwoo, but, causing harm to women and children for pleasure is a monstrosity I will not allow this organisation to ever commit. Your grandmother was assaulted for choosing me over some rich bastard – your uncles and I broke their arms, castrated them before making them kneel in front of her family to beg for forgiveness.”

“His heart is in the right place,” Wonwoo’s grandmother added on, “While being a mob boss or part of a mob gang is less than ideal for anyone, at least your grandfather shows some levels of decency as a human being.”

“So… in the scenario one of our members has assaulted, or caused harm to women or children in any way, what happens to them? Do they get their bones broken and then castrated?”

“That was back in the good old days, my dear grandson,” Wonsoong chuckled, “Now, they are battered and bruised, fingers cut, and castrated – before being shot thrice.”

Sure, it’s terrifying to have the entire nation’s economy in the palm of a mafia family.

Yeah, the occasional stumbling upon a body being dumped in certain areas could be traumatising. Hell, it even caused mass panic.

But, citizens soon learnt one saying, “Don’t cause the Jeons trouble, and trouble won’t find you”. A fancy way of saying, “If you don’t want to be the next corpse, don’t fuck with the Jeons”.

Because all the bodies found were individuals who have crossed them.

You stare at the wedding venue, brows furrowed as you take in the sight. You knew the Jeons had a taste for dark aesthetic, but you weren’t expecting the wedding decorations to be all black.

You weren’t exactly a superstitious person, but you did believe in the superstition that the colour black brings misfortune.

“Are the decorations up to your expectations, Mr Jeon?” the receptionist nervously asks, “We’ve followed the reference pictures and instructions you’ve given us.”

“Umm… Could I –” your breath catches in your throat when both men turn their attention to you. Wonwoo raises an eyebrow, “Not to your liking, doll?”

“No! No! The decorations are beautiful and the venue itself is grand,” you began, “But… Could we add a little bit of colour?”

The alpha crosses his arms, “Colour? You want to add colour?” He gestures to the venue, “You do realise that everything here is decorated with intention, right? Black represents strength, power, control. It’s to show dominance –”

You cut him off, “This is my wedding, too. Don’t I get a say in this?”

Wonwoo’s gaze hardens at your interruption, clearly not used to anyone defying him; much less an Omega that’s his soon-to-be wife. He narrows his eyes, a way to get you to back down without being too dominating so as to not scare off the beta of a receptionist; but you stood your ground. The air thickens, charged with tension.

“A little colour won’t hurt this black theme you have going on, Mr Jeon,” you state, crossing your own arms and taking a step forward, “You can have all the power and control you want, but I also deserve a say in how this day looks because it’s also my day.”

The silence hangs between you both, the weight of your words settling in. The receptionist watches with a bated breath and for a moment, you wonder if you’ve pushed too far. But then Wonwoo shifts, uncrossing his arms and turns to the receptionist, “Accommodate whatever requests the missus has.”

The receptionist visibly relaxes, nodding quickly as he whips out his tablet and moves to stand beside you as you walk around the venue, listing out the changes you wanted done.

“I love the black roses bouquet you’ve lined up down the aisle, but please add in some red roses. Switch out the black ribbons on the vases for white ones; you can barely see anything!”

Approaching the tables, you pick up one of the black napkins that’s been folded into a rose. You turn to the receptionist, “I want all the black napkins gone. Replace them with a burgundy red.” The receptionist jots down every detail, his fingers moving swiftly across the tablet screen as you continue to inspect the venue. Wonwoo watches you silently, impressed as you move with purpose and an air of confidence – something he rarely sees in an Omega.

You stare at the chairs that are draped in black fabric. “Are we welcoming death? I get the whole idea of this wedding to let it be known that you’re a mob boss, but at least have something that shows you have taste.”

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow at your bluntness before the corners of his mouth twitch into a small smirk. There’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, but his gaze still holds a steady weight, almost as though he’s studying you.

“Taste…” he echoes, his voice low, as if contemplating your word. “This is a wedding, doll, not some fashion show.”

You gently graze your fingertips over the black fabric, “Exactly, a wedding. I get that this whole… dark and mysterious aesthetic is your thing, Mr Jeon, but at least have a bit of sophistication.”

You turn to face him fully, “I’m not asking for colourful flowers or for them to be placed everywhere or even pink ribbons. Just a little bit of refinement so it doesn’t look like a funeral.”

Wonwoo’s eyes narrow slightly, and he watches you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. He takes a step forward, his hands shoved into his pockets as he peers at the receptionist's tablet. “You’re changing everything, aren’t you?”

You meet his gaze, letting out a shaky breath as you try to maintain your confidence, “Not everything. Just enough for it to… look more like a wedding.”

The air remains thick, but there’s no hostility; just a slow understanding that’s beginning to form. After a few seconds, the Alpha lets out a quiet breath and gives a slight nod. “Alright, doll. I trust your judgement.”

He turns and walks out of the venue, saying he has a business call he needs to answer. The receptionist turns his attention back to you, “What would you like to be done with the chairs, um… Mrs Jeon..?”

You give the receptionist a small smile, “You can call me Miss Park. I’m not yet married to him to be called Mrs Jeon.”

The receptionist chuckles nervously, “Not exactly a chance I would want to take, umm… Missus.”

“Hmm, I’ll accept that term. Back to the chairs – let’s switch the black fabric for a red fabric, similar to the napkins. Have a black sash tied into a bow at the back, is that doable?”

The receptionist nods excitedly, tapping away at the tablet as he realises his commission for this wedding may be enough to seal him a quick vacation. “Yes, of course it is, Missus! Would that be all?”

You take one last look at the venue, glancing up at the chandeliers, “Just soften the lighting and we’re all settled.”

That was approximately six months ago, which means it’s been six months since your marriage to Jeon Wonwoo became official.

Park ___. That's your name, that’s who you are.

A small corner shop florist that was everyone’s go-to for event planning or last minute flowers. Everyone knew you by your flower shop. They knew you by your smile. They knew you as "the flower lady who always got your back!”.

Never in a million years would you think that you’d now be known as Jeon Wonwoo’s wife. Jeon Wonwoo’s Omega. Jeon Wonwoo’s mate.

To be frank, you hated the fact that all your years of hard work were being overlooked now that you were married or bound to Ashville’s most nefarious and powerful mob boss.

Your name, once synonymous with ambition and independence, was now whispered in hushed tones, attached only to his. Your achievements, your sacrifices, all the blood and sweat you had poured into carving your own path no longer mattered. To them, you were nothing more than an Omega claimed by an Alpha who took whatever he wanted.

The weight of your new… identity settles on your shoulders in tons. You imagined several shackles were locked around your limbs, cold and unyielding. It didn’t matter that you had built a name for yourself. Now, you were just his.

And the entire city knew it.

You hated the look people would give you – some with fear, some with pity. Others had a look of cruel amusement, as though they were watching a wild animal realising its cage had no door. That the cage was its new home.

It made your blood boil. You weren’t some weak, whimpering Omega who would roll over and get all submissive at the mere scent of their Alpha. You fought to stand where you were. But damn it all, thanks to the stupid bind fate had planned.

Wonwoo sat beside you in the limousine, both of you having just left a dinner event that was hosted by one of Wonwoo’s allies that was meant to celebrate his wedding. Not both of your weddings, just his. The entire night, you had been paraded around as though you were nothing more than an extension of him – his Omega, his possession, his wife. No one toasted to you, no one acknowledged you beyond hushed whispers and fleeting glances.

You clenched your fists, fingers curling into the fabric of your dress.

“You’re upset,” Wonwoo states, his voice smooth and calculating, the corners of his mouth lifting in a faint, amused smirk. “What’s bothering you, doll?”

“Don’t,” your tone came sharper than expected, so you took a deep breath to calm your nerves. Your voice was less hostile when you spoke again, “Don’t call me that, please.”

Wonwoo’s smirk didn’t falter, but there was something in his eyes – amusement mixed with the faintest hint of challenge. He tilts his head, studying you as if you were some artifact or priceless painting that’s been put up for display. “Don’t call you what?” he asked, his voice now softer, but the command in his words can’t be missed.

You swallowed thickly, trying to mask the storm inside you as you held your ground. “Don’t call me doll,” you repeated, this time with more conviction. There was a slight tremble in your voice, betraying the raw emotion you were trying to suppress. “I… I’m not a doll, or some object. I’m a person.”

Wonwoo’s remains unreadable, though the intensity of his gaze and his posture didn’t change. But, there was a subtle shift, a quiet acknowledgment in his eyes. “I see my Omega bites back,” he chuckles, his tone teasing but there was a hint of respect behind it. “I must say, it’s quite… refreshing… Or, entertaining, for lack of a better word.”

You frown, “Entertaining?”

His eyes scanned your face, but there was no mockery in his gaze. Instead, there was something more akin to admiration, though when it comes to Jeon Wonwoo, deciphering any of his words or looks was like trying to get pigs to fly. “Well, it’s not every day you see an Omega go head-to-head with an Alpha. Especially if the Omega is now under the Jeon Family.”

“I can play that pretty little housewife you’re picturing,” you mumble, releasing your clenched fists in favour of crossing your arms, looking out the window, “Just don’t expect me to be all pliant and submissive twenty-four seven.”

Another deep chuckle leaves his lips. Something about his words, about how he says you were the first Omega to not heel to traditions makes you feel oddly proud. It was clear he still had his guard up, but at least in this moment, you could tell he’s trying not to push your boundaries or you too far.

“Relax, babydoll.”

Hmm… Perhaps you could accept that pet name. It’s much better than being called ‘doll’.

His voice is less teasing but there was still that underlying sharpness. “You’re still you, despite what society says. That defiance you have there? There’s power in that. Not many dare to challenge the expectations placed on them. Especially Omegas.”

His words sunk in, not as an insult, but as an observation; a praise. It was one that left you feeling both uncertain yet strangely affirmed. It’s the first time in a while that someone, aside from your parents, recognised your rebellion, your defiance as something more than just a nuisance. Let alone an alpha like Jeon Wonwoo.

He reaches out a hand, finding purchase on your thigh. You tense at his touch, the heat of his hand sending a jolt of electricity through your body. But, you don’t pull away, feeling the warmth of his fingers through the fabric of your dress.

“I see that fire you’ve got in you, ___,” he continues, his fingers slowly tracing the curve of your thigh, “And it’s not just for show, too.”

Your tone came out sharper than you intended when you replied, “You think you can control that?”

A sly smirk tugs at his lips, “Control? It’d be fun to break you, sure, but… I quite like the idea of having a feisty Omega by my side. Believe me, babydoll, I know what it’s like to prove yourself to be seen and acknowledged. I had to do the same to prove it to my father and grandfather. You didn’t think I was handed this position just like that, did you?”

"I don’t doubt you had to fight for it," you say quietly. "But I’m not here for a power struggle. Not with you, not with anyone."

He shifts slightly, giving your thigh a firm squeeze. “Look, babydoll, I don’t expect you to bend over my desk or lap whenever I tell you to. But, I do expect you to listen to me when it comes to your safety or if you’re ever caught in the crossfire of my dealings. Is that understood?”

You meet his gaze, feeling a shiver run down your spine. The grip he had on your thigh had goosebumps rising, but the touch wasn’t just possessive; it was also protective. A silent reminder.

“I know you’re more than capable of handling yourself, babydoll. But being capable doesn’t mean you have to face every danger alone, and in my world, in my life, it’s not kind to the unprepared despite their capabilities to be able to stand up for themselves.”

You bite back the words you want to say, about how you weren’t some fragile porcelain doll. That you didn’t need him to look after you like you’re some helpless Omega –

“I’m not asking you to give up the control you have over your life. I can see as clear as day that you’ve been able to manage just fine without an Alpha.” Oh.

“What I’m asking from you is to trust me when it matters. I know this marriage is out of convenience, for the sake of the mating bond, but you’re not someone I’m willing to let slip through the cracks either. Not without a fight.”

His words pulled your defenses down just a little, but you still held on tight to the edges of your resolve. Perhaps it was because of the many judgemental and snide comments you’ve received from others, especially Alphas, in the past that made you want to argue with him. The way he speaks, so calm and measured, you were itching to fight back.

But, something in his eyes stops you. There was no sign of mockery, no superiority – just a raw honesty you’d never thought you’d see in an Alpha. Much less the one that practically rules over the entire city.

“I didn’t ask for any of this…” You voiced out, sounding quieter than you’d intended. “I didn’t ask for you to be my mate. I didn’t ask for you to try and protect me.”

While he doesn’t flinch at your words, there’s a shift in his posture, a subtle tense in his shoulders that tells you he isn’t completely unaffected by your words.

“I know, babydoll,” his tone now tinged with something that feels like understanding, “But, believe me when I say that I am not asking for your submission. I’m asking for your trust. If I wanted to control you, I would’ve made that clear six months ago.”

“Can’t believe those bastards had to wait six months to do this stupid party…” you mumbled, cheeks heating up as you realised you sound like a girl throwing a little tantrum.

Wonwoo chuckles, “Well, our schedules have been overlapping. I think they expected us to go on a honeymoon for a while.”

“Tch, as if I’d ever want to be on the same bed as you.”

“Moving back to the topic earlier, I’m not asking for a leash, babydoll,” his voice is low, almost soothing. “I’m asking you to let me stand by your side when the world gets too heavy. Because it will. And when that happens... I don’t want you to face it alone. All I ask for is your trust and to let me understand you.”

You’re unsure of what to say next, the weight of his gaze making it difficult to think clearly. You’ve spent almost your entire life resisting the idea of relying on anyone, but here he is, asking for something as simple as your trust.

The sincerity in his words linger, and for the first time, you wonder if you’ve misjudged the Alpha. Maybe he wasn’t like the others that were trying to force their way into an Omega’s life. Maybe he wasn’t looking to bend or break an Omega so they’d be solely dependent on their Alpha.

Maybe he too was looking for something different. Something that goes beyond fated bonds and forced relationships.

You look at him, and for the first time, you allow yourself to wonder if there’s a part of you that could trust him.

He pulls his hand away from your thigh, fingers lingering for just a second longer than necessary, as if reluctant to break the contact.

“But, there’s clearly something bothering you, babydoll. C’mon, out with it.”

You hesitate, lips parting, but no words come out. You’re not sure where to start or if you even want to start. Part of you still wants to keep everything bottled up, to keep your walls firmly in place. But then there’s him, sitting beside you with that quiet patience, the intensity in his gaze softened just enough to make you believe he might actually care about what you’re about to say.

You shift slightly in your seat, arms tightening around yourself. “That… That Juyeon guy at the dinner…”

Wonwoo's expression darkens almost instantly, the warmth in his gaze snuffed out like a candle. His jaw tightens, and though he remains still, you can feel the way his entire body tenses at the mention of another Alpha’s name.

“And, what about him, babydoll?” His voice is calm, a little too calm. It’s the kind that you know he won’t like your answer.

You swallow hard, “He… The way he spoke to me…”

You sigh, “Look, I know it’s inevitable that people will start addressing by ‘title’ instead of my name. Wonwoo’s Omega. Wonwoo’s wife. But, I don’t like it being said in a condescending tone. The way he called or referred to me as Wonwoo’s little Omega felt as though I was just another weapon or gun you’ve added to your already large collection.”

You shift a little, the frustration simmering beneath your skin as you try to put your feelings into words. “I don’t want to be reduced to that. To just another thing you own. It’s already hard enough that I had to not cuss him out for trying to feel me up the entire time…”

Wonwoo stills.

For a moment, there’s nothing but silence. Heavy. Suffocating.

The air between you crackles with something dangerous. His expression doesn’t change, doesn’t twist in anger or morph into something openly furious, but the sheer stillness of him is enough to make the hairs on your arms stand on end.

“Say that again, babydoll” he orders, and though it’s barely above a whisper, it’s the sharpest you’ve ever heard his voice. “What did you just say?”

For a moment, you wonder if you’ve screwed up by making such an accusation or statement about his associate. But, you pushed on, “Juyeon… He kept brushing up against me on the table. Placing his hand on my knee, my thigh. He’d touch my back too when he had the chance.”

Wonwoo doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move.

But then, he slowly exhales through his nose, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek as if trying to keep his composure.

“I see.”

Two simple words. And yet, something about the way he says them sends a cold shiver down your spine.

“Wonwoo–”

“Mingyu,” he calls out to the driver.

“Yeah, boss?”

“Tell Jihoon to pass a message to Juyeon. I’d like to have dinner with him tomorrow night. Just the two of us.”

“You got it, boss.”

“Wonwoo!”

“I told you I’d stand by you when it matters,” Wonwoo repeats his earlier statement, his voice softer now, but no less intense. “And this matters.”

You swallow, finding it harder to resist the pull of his words than you care to admit. The stubborn part of you wants to fight him, wants to tell him you don’t need his help, but you can’t deny how much relief it brings to know he won’t just stand idly as you get disrespected.

For the first time, you allow yourself to believe that he might actually be a good guy.

“You… run a clothing line?”

Wonwoo looks up from his desk, his eyes on you as you stand by one of the many shelves he’s lined up on the walls. In your hands was a photo frame with a photo of him and a blonde man standing side-by-side in front of a building.

“Is that very surprising, babydoll?” he asks, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Just because my family runs the mafioso doesn’t mean I have to just run that business.”

Behind the pair was a store with the sign J&W. Wonwoo said it’s a combination of their initials, a collaboration of some sorts. When you asked why he can’t just open one under his own name, his reply was simply, “You really think people would dare to set foot into a shop that’s under my name?”

“This man… Is he a business partner? Shareholder?” A shadow looms over you and tilting your head backwards, it sits comfortably against his broad shoulder. Wonwoo hums, “You could say that. He’s… I consider Jeonghan a friend and if you know me well or long enough, I don’t offer my trust easily.”

“I’m guessing that trust also applies to the hiring process of your bodyguards?”

You’ve counted a maximum of… six bodyguards during your stay at his mansion. Well, excluding his right-hand man, Jihoon, that makes five. “Some… unfortunate incidents happened when I was younger that started my trust issues.”

His voice drops just a little, one hand coming up to rest on your waist. You don’t miss the way his jaw clenches briefly before relaxing, as though catching himself before slipping too deep into memory.

“Jihoon and I have known each other since childhood. Family relations all that so it’s natural I came to trust him.”

“The others?”

“They’ve earned their place and my trust.”

You look down at the frame before tilting your head back up, raising it a little, “And Jeonghan?”

Wonwoo takes the item from your hand, as if examining it before handing it back to you. “Ah, Jeonghan…” A quiet chuckle slips past his lips, “Let’s say he’s a different story… I actually met him through Seungcheol, one of the bodyguards. You’ve probably seen him around – buff, kind of gray-ish hair.”

“The one that’s always butting heads with Mingyu?”

A flicker of surprise crosses his features, “So you’ve been paying attention.” Amusement laces his tone, clearly not expecting you to do so. You narrowed your eyes, “Well, if I weren’t aware of my surroundings, I wouldn’t have been able to survive this long until you showed up, can I?”

He gives your waist a firm squeeze, pressing a kiss to your temple, an action that catches you off guard. “I suppose you have a point, babydoll,” he concedes, voice low. “And I suppose it’s hard to ignore the two when they’re at each other’s throat.”

You roll your eyes. “Well, they’re not exactly subtle… Or quiet. It is interesting to see Mingyu surrender or lower his head, though…”

Wonwoo chuckles, taking the frame off your hands and setting it back on the shelf. “They’re both betas, but Seungcheol does have more of a… I guess more dominant nature. We’d suspected him of being an Alpha initially, but tests proved otherwise.” He adjusts the frame slightly before turning his attention back to you. “Still, that doesn’t stop him from acting like one.”

“And Mingyu just… lets him?”

The Alpha shrugs his shoulders. “Mingyu respects strength. He may not always like it, but he knows when to back down.”

You hum in thought. “And Jeonghan? Where does he fit into all of this?”

“He and Seungcheol go way back if I’m not mistaken. I don’t know the full details, but from what I’ve gathered and from what they’ve told me respectively, they used to work together before Seungcheol decided to have a change in career paths.”

Another squeeze to your waist, “Jeonghan… plays by his own rules. Always has.”

You frown slightly, clearly confused by his words. “What do you mean?”

“He’s a businessman,” Wonwoo says simply, though there’s something guarded in the way he says it. “And like all businessmen, he knows how to get what he wants.”

That doesn’t quite answer your question, but you know better than to push too hard.

“Is he dangerous?”

Wonwoo’s lips curl at the question, but it’s anything but a smile. “He’s charming, I’ll give him that.. And that makes him the most dangerous of all.”

A shiver runs down your spine. You don’t know if it’s from his tone or the way his fingers finally slide away from your skin.

The air in the mansion felt… different.

You couldn’t exactly put a finger on it, but it just felt as though there was a shift to your surroundings. Your heart was racing despite it being a calm and quiet day, Wonwoo was out discussing a fashion deal and majority of the staff in his mansion were given specific orders to not bother you unless needed.

Your heart was racing faster than usual, your senses were heightened in a way that made your skin feel alive – and not in a good way. It was in a way that made your head dizzy. It was subtle at first, a warmth curling in your lower belly, an uncomfortable tingle spreading across your limbs that makes your skin far too sensitive to the air around you.

You ignored it at first – or at least, you tried to.

The mansion was eerily quiet. The grand halls, lined with cold marble and towering windows. Despite housing the most dangerous mafioso and his bodyguards, it felt safe. But, it could be because of Wonwoo’s presence and his pheromones.

Now, each step you took felt heavier, every breath felt sharper, and the very air felt charged with something oppressive.

You knew this feeling. You had been trained to recognise it.

But it was too soon. Far too soon.

You’ve kept track of your heat since it was revealed that you were an Omega. You’ve made sure to take your suppressants on time to prevent any mishaps, never missing a single dose. Yet, despite your careful planning and discipline…

Could it be Wonwoo’s pheromones?

It had to be – your cycle wasn’t due for another week, give or take.

You pressed a sweaty palm against the nearest wall, a sudden wave of dizziness washing over you. It started as a slow burn in your veins, a heat that swirled in your stomach and spread outwards.

It was definitely your heat. You could feel it creeping up, threatening to consume you if you didn’t act fast.

“Missus..?”

Mingyu.

“Missus, you don’t look so well,” the Beta points out, taking a step forward.

It was times like these that you were grateful for Wonwoo insisting that his staff were Betas. Before you came into the picture, it was to ensure no crossfires ever happened between him and an Alpha staff. Two or more Alphas under the same roof with some kind of “power imbalance” could lead to a hostile environment, and Wonwoo prefers peace and quiet… despite the field of work he’s in.

After you came into the picture, Wonwoo would answer that he didn’t want any unclaimed or stray Alphas pouncing on his Omega.

Mingyu sniffs the air and his ears perk up as he catches a whiff of sweetness in the air. It was sweet like candy and he instantly knew what was going on. Thankfully, his training somewhat prepared him for scenarios like this, albeit it was catered more towards Alphas.

“Missus, do you have any suppressants?” Mingyu, taking a cautious step forward so as not to agitate you. You shook your head, letting out a small sniffle, “I ran out of them… I-I was planning to get them some time this week because it isn’t due for another–”

“Okay, well, I could text Boss to pick some up for you once he’s done with his meeting,” the giant suggests, reaching out a hand to steady you when he notices the slight wobble in your stance. “In the meantime, you shouldn’t be out and about, Missus… Let’s get you–”

“What’s going on here?” Jihoon, Wonwoo’s right-hand, interrupts Mingyu’s sentence. The tall beta freezes, his hand hovering near your arm but not quite touching. His jaw clenched, glancing over his shoulder, meeting Jihoon’s sharp, assessing gaze.

Unlike Mingyu, who was all warmth and concern, Jihoon carried an air of cold efficiency, his presence cutting through the charged atmosphere like a blade. The right-hand man’s eyes flicker to you, his nostrils flaring slightly as he picks up on

Jihoon’s eyes flicker to you, nostrils flaring slightly as he picks up on what Mingyu already had. His brows furrow, and a barely-there sigh escapes his lips. “Shit,” he muttered, noticing the way you swayed slightly against the wall, trying to regain your balance.

Mingyu lowered his hand, deciding that it was best to keep a respectful distance from you. “Missus is having a bit of a… situation,” he said, his tone careful. “She’s early and ran out of her suppressants. I was gonna text Boss–”

“Call him.” The right-hand man’s voice carried an authority that was impossible to ignore. While his eyes softened just a touch as your discomfort, they still held that calculative gaze.

The tall giant was hesitant, his thumb hovering over the screen of his phone. Every one of Wonwoo’s staff knew that calling him while he’s in any sort of meeting was serious. Texting was discreet, something that could be swept under the rug or dealt with later. But a call meant urgency. It meant that Wonwoo would have to drop everything, no matter what he was doing, to deal with the situation.

But a look from Jihoon has Mingyu cursing under his breath, tapping the call button and pressing the phone to his ear.

“Missus,” Jihoo’s tone while still authoritative, was softer than before. His gaze flickered to your hands that were trembling at your sides and against the wall. “Give me your hand.”

You’re momentarily confused, blinking up at him then lowering your gaze to his outstretched hand. His voice carried a quiet but insistent command, and despite the overwhelming wave of hormones washing over you, you obediently did so.

“You’ll be okay,” Jihoon murmured, though it seems he was reminding you rather than comforting you. “All the staff here are Betas, I’m sure Boss told you that. Your heat won’t affect us so there’s no need to fear us jumping on you.”

His gaze returns to Mingyu who’s speaking on the phone. “Won’t be long before Boss gets back. I’ll take you back to your room.” You nod your head, though you weren’t sure if it was in response to his reassurance or because you knew that your legs couldn’t walk without someone guiding you.

The walk through the halls felt like an endless blur, the air thick with both the scent of your heat and the tension of the situation. Your heart pounded in your ears, your breaths coming in short, uneven pants. The mansion, usually cold, felt suffocating now.

You barely registered when Jihoon pushed open a door, guiding you inside the room. You entered without a second thought, freezing when the scent hit you.

This wasn’t your room.

Your body recognised it before your mind did – the faint traces of musk, crisp cologne, and something that was deeply ingrained in your instincts. Your entire being tenses as you realised exactly where Jihoon had brought you.

Wonwoo’s room.

You let out a whimper, the lingering remnants of the Alpha’s pheromones made your entire body tense. He wasn’t even here yet, and you were already drowning in him. You stared at the king-sized bed, your body wanting to sink into it, to bury yourself in the softness of the sheets that still held the imprint of his presence. But, the rational part of your mind knew better.

Your sluggish thoughts tried to fight through the dizzying fog, “Jihoon, this- this isn't–”

“I know, Missus,” he interrupts cooly, “But, I'm going to assume this is your first heat that's induced by an Alpha’s pheromones. It'd be best to get used to Boss’ pheromones – not just for your heat, but for your well-being too.”

“Well-being?”

With surprising gentleness, he guides you to the edge of Wonwoo’s massive bed, lowering you to sit onto the cool sheets. It was a stark contrast to your fevered skin. Your mind screamed for you to leave, to fight the Beta and make a run for it to your room – but your body betrays you as it reacts to the lingering scent of Wonwoo’s pheromones.

Before you can do anything, you instinctively crawl onto the bed, your fingers clutching at the sheets beneath you as you’re pulled towards the only source of comfort in your current suffocating haze. You somewhat collapsed onto the mattress, burying your face into it and inhaling deeply, a pathetic whimper slipping past your lips as your thighs clench with need.

Your fingers curled into the fabric, your entire body as the Alpha’s scent wrapped around you like a vice.

You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be reacting like this.

You should be fighting this, clawing your way out of this haze and demanding to be taken back to your own room where you can suffer through this alone. But your instincts don’t care for logic. Instead, you’re in Wonwoo’s room, trembling and desperate, drowning in a need so raw it leaves you gasping.

You hated how easy it was to succumb.

And then it happens.

A shift in the air.

A choked noise left your lips as his scent filled the room completely, no longer just a lingering trace but a full, undeniable presence.

You sit up immediately, turning your head back to the door behind you before you can even think. It was an instinct, your body responding to an unspoken command before your mind can even have time to process anything.

“Nonu…”

Wonwoo definitely broke several speed limits on his way back to base.

The second he saw Mingyu’s name flash across his phone screen – not a text, but a phone call – he knew something was wrong. He brought the device to his ear, nothing more than a clipped ‘Speak’. Once Mingyu announced ‘Missus is early’, he ended the call and left the meeting without a word.

He didn’t care who was speaking. Didn’t care about the confused stares or hushed murmurs as he strode out the boardroom.

The only thing that mattered to him was getting back to you.

He stopped by a pharmacy, picking up several bottles of heat suppressants and a few cooling patches before speeding the rest on his way home.

Wonwoo storms through the halls of the base, his coat thrown onto the couch, his tie loosened and his jaw set tight.

Everyone knew they had to stay the hell out of his way.

His staff, the Betas, moved to the sides, pressing their back against the walls as he passed. Nobody dared to meet his gaze, not even Seungcheol – especially when the Alpha’s scent was laced with irritation – thick and suffocating in the air.

Grabbing a bottle of suppressants and a packet of heat patches from the plastic bag, he tosses the bag to a nearby staff. “Chan, store the suppressants in the missus’ bathroom cabinet. Cooling patches go in the mini fridge for her skincare.”

Chan nodded quickly, following the instructions.

Approaching his room, Jihoon steps aside from the door and slips past him without so much as a glance back. There was nothing that needed to be said. The right-hand man had done his job. Now, it was Wonwoo’s turn.

He entered the room and his expression was unreadable as he took in the scene before him. His nose twitched as your pheromones had practically covered every corner of his room. Sensing his presence, he watches as you sit up on your knees, head turning back and making eye contact with him.

“Nonu…”

He hears your breath hitch as he draws closer, his footsteps slow and deliberate.

“You really are a handful…” His voice was smooth, almost lazy. But, there was something else beneath it, something dark. It caused a shiver to run through you. Whether from arousal or fear, you’re not sure.

He steps closer, footsteps slow and deliberate. With each step he takes, a spike of awareness shot throughout your body. Your body reacts instinctively to his presence, knees pressing together in an attempt to soothe the ache inside your stomach. But, you knew it wouldn’t work.

Nothing did.

Not the cool sheets, not the distance that grew shorter and shorter.

By the time Wonwoo reaches the edge of the bed, your entire frame is trembling. He tilts his head to the side and exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair.

“Nonu…”

Fuck. Your voice sounded so wrecked that the Alpha’s breath stuttered for just a second.

It sounded so needy, trembling with something raw that managed to slip through the cracks of Wonwoo’s self-restraint. His fingers twitched at his side before crossing his arms in front of his chest, the black button up straining slightly against his forearms and chest.

Your mind grew foggy as his scent grew thicker, wrapping around you completely. Before your mind could even process it, your body moved on its own – crawling to the edge of the bed to be closer to where he stood.

Wonwoo didn’t understand why Jihoon would bring you to his room (he does, he just doesn’t want to acknowledge it). You should be locked in your room, alone and away from him. Yet, here you were – right in the center of his personal space, clinging to the sheets like they were the only thing anchoring you to your senses.

The worst part of it all?

You looked like you belonged there.

He reaches out, cupping your cheek and tilting your head up. A small, needy whimper slips from your lips before you even realise. He orders you to stay still and you do, opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue. Wonwoo presses the pill to your tongue and the bitter taste barely registers past the haze in your mind.

“Swallow.”

You obey instantly, throat bobbing as you swallow the suppressant without protest. You opened your mouth again, showing him that you had done exactly as he ordered.

Wonwoo’s jaw tightened.

The fact that you took the suppressant without much fight should have relieved him, but it didn’t.

Because your lips trembled.

Because your pupils remain dilated.

You close your mouth, another whimper slipping free as you nuzzle your cheek into the palm of his hand that cupped your cheek. Both of you knew the heat won’t subside immediately, that it would take up to hours for the suppressant to actually kick in.

After a few moments, Wonwoo pulls his hand away and lets out a slow, measured breath.

“Good girl.”

Two words.

Just two simple words.

And yet, your entire body shudders.

His eyes darkened for a brief second before he stood to his full height, pulling his hand away as he took a step back. You whine at the loss of his hand against your kin, blinking up at him and Wonwoo swallows hard.

“Don’t.” His voice came out tighter than he intended, “Don’t look at me like that, babydoll.”

Like he was the only thing you needed.

Like he was the only one that could save you.

“Nonu, please,” you whined, “Make the pain go away.”

Wonwoon’s self-control snapped and before he could even think, he was on you. One hand came up to cup the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair as he tilted your head up.

And then he kissed you.

Hard.

It wasn’t soft and gentle.

It was desperate – a clash of heat and hunger, of pent-up frustration.

You gasped into his mouth, fingers fisting into his shirt and his grip tightened. Wonwoo presses his lips harder against yours as he swallows every whimper, every soft plea. Your heat was drowning him, making him forget every single rule he had set for himself.

He knew this was reckless. Knew that this could have dire consequences.

But when you moaned against his lips, the noise soft and needy, every ounce of logic flew out the window. His tongue slid against yours, deepening the kiss as if he was attempting to steal the breath from your lungs. His hands moved, sliding down your thighs and gripping them just enough to make you gasp again.

Wonwoo thinks he could still salvage what little control he had as he presses you deeper into the mattress – at least until he hears you whisper his name. The sound was soft, pleading – ruined, even. And he realises that it was already too late.

He’s gone.

“I’ll only help you this one time,” Wonwoo’s voice was low, dangerously low. He sounded controlled, but the way his hand gripped your thighs; the way his gaze dropped to your lips betrayed the inner turmoil he was facing. “Understood?”

You nodded immediately and he narrowed his eyes. But there was no mistaking the way your body arched towards him like it already knew what it wanted. His hands slid up your sides and under your shirt – his rough, calloused hands running against your smooth skin.

Just this once, he told himself.

Just tonight.

Just until the suppressants kicked in.

“Nonu!”

Fuck. The way you cried out so prettily for him had him curl his fingers deeper inside you. He was supposed to be in control, not let his instincts take over. But, damn it, the way you begged his name in that desperate, pleading tone had him losing focus.

Truth be told, Wonwoo always had a distaste for the heat and rut cycles. They were messy, primal; a reminder of how little control he had when it came to instincts like this. His body screamed for release, for dominance, but discomfort clawed at his mind.

But, God, the way you reacted to him. Every touch, every whine of his name, it ignited something he couldn’t deny.

Your back is pressed against his chest, the fabrics clinging to your skin damp with sweat and fever, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. All you could feel was how good his fingers were working inside you – skillful and relentless.

The fabrics between you only intensified the ache. Your night shorts were thrown somewhere into the corner of his room, the shirt somewhat bunched around your hips while Wonwoo, still fully dressed, sat behind you with his back against the headboard. His chest felt warm against your back, the steady breaths he let out betraying the tension vibrating through his body.

You keened, one arm thrown back to hold the back of his neck in an attempt to ground yourself. “Nonu…” You whimpered, voice cracked and ruined. “N-Need more. Please, I–”

“I know,” he growls against the side of your neck, voice strained. His lips brushed your skin, not quite a kiss, but the warmth made your entire body shudder. “I know, babydoll. Your poor pussy needs more, right? Your heat has you all hot and aching, doesn't it?”

His free hand rests on your waist, anchoring you against him as his fingers curled again – this time slower, as though he’s searching for something. “She’s begging, babydoll. Dripping and sucking my fingers in like she knows who she belongs to.”

A sharp gasp leaves your lips and Wonwoo feels your body tremble. Your legs try to snap shut and he whispers into your ear, “That the spot?”

You nodded, back arching as his fingertips continue to bully your g-spot. You could feel him pulsing hard through his pants, pressed flush against your ass. Every clothes rut of his hips against you has you crying out – needy, frustrated.

Your thighs are trembling violently now, the tension coiling deep in your gut and it was ready to break. Wonwoo continues to stimulate that spongy spot, his fingers working to open you up with expert precision. “You’re close, aren’t you, babydoll?”

You could only nod, not trusting your words as your mouth parts to let out a high pitched moan as your body surged towards the edge. He presses his fingers until they’re knuckle deep inside you, curling up right against that spot as his thumb circles over your swollen clit.

“C’mon,” he rasps into your ear, “Cum for me.”

Your body obeyed before your mind could catch up.

White hot pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave. Your vision blurs and your entire body seizes as you cried out, body jerking against the Alpha behind you as a gush of wetness spilled over his hand and soaking the sheets beneath you.

Wonwoo doesn’t move. Instead he holds you tighter, hands still resting between your legs but his thumb circles your clit in a manner that was meant to ground you. You're gasping and shaking in his arms, hands trying to push at his wrists, desperate but weak. You aren’t sure if it was overstimulation or if you wanted him to give you more.

His voice was low, full of something far too tender for the way his heart was racing – for the way he’d always acted. “Good girl. Did so well for me.”

Wonwoo looks down at you only to be met by you looking up at him, eyes glassy and lips parted in a silent plea. You were flushed and panting in his lap, slick coating his fingers.

Despite his distaste for these cycles, he knew he’d do it again.

He hated how much he realised he loved this, how he could pull those sounds from you.

But, he loved how he was the only one who could pull those noises from you.

Loved how you trusted him through it.

Wonwoo carefully pulls out his fingers, ready to move you back to your room – then you whimper out his name like it was a prayer meant just for him.

“Babydoll,” he growls lowly, voice rough and filled with warning. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Yet you did.

Maybe it was the scent of your heat. Maybe it was the way you clung to him, silently begging him. Maybe it was the way that nickname you called him rolled off your tongue like he was your God.

He’s quick to have you pressed against the mattress, hips flushed against yours as he finally gives in to the carnal pull. You hear him fumbling with his belt and the sound of his zipper coming undone. The sudden shift in the situation knocks the air straight from your lungs.

One moment he’s cradling you in his arms, the next you’re sprawled beneath him; his hands on either side of your head to not just keep himself up, but to keep you right where he wants you.

Where you need to be.

You gasp out his title – not his name or that cute lil nickname you just gave him, but his title. Your eyes fluttered shut as your fingers claw into the bedding, silently begging for him to just fill you up.

And he does.

In one thrust, he buries himself to the hilt and savours the way you cry out to him, body arching as your pussy clamps down on him.

He leans over you, chest pressed against yours, lips brushing over the shell of your ear. “Feel that, babydoll? That’s me shaping your pussy so that it only knows how to take my dick.” He pulls his hips back, just until only his tip remains inside before slamming forward, making sure you feel him in your womb. “Wanted me to fuck you? Well, I’m gonna give it to you.”

A needy sob escapes your lips as he sets a punishing pace; and he chuckles lowly, hot breath against your neck. His lips part and he bites down on your neck, hard, claiming the spot with a bruising mark. You gasp, the sting sending a jolt of pleasure through your core, causing your pussy to squeeze him tighter.

Wonwoo growls, hips stuttering for just a moment before he thrusts even deeper, harder – making sure your walls remember every vein, every inch.

“My sweet Omega,” he grunts against your skin, voice rough and possessive. His tongue darts out to soothe the bite. You mewl, feeling the imprint of his teeth as though he was trying to brand you as his.

Your hands scramble for purchase, settling on his back and your nails dragged down his back as he fucks you through every tremble, every whimper.

“You like that, dontcha babydoll?” he sits up, knees digging into the mattress as his hands grip your hips so tightly you were sure it’d start to bruise. All you could do was nod, tears gathering in the corner of your eyes.

“C’mon, babydoll,” he coos condescendingly, one hand sliding up your body to wrap itself loosely around your throat. He didn’t apply any pressure, just letting it sit there as a reminder of his control, his claim.

And it was like a switch flipped.

A sharp gasp escapes your lips, back arching off the mattress as more slick drips out of your pussy, creating a white ring of cream around the base of the Alpha’s cock.

You didn’t mean to react the way you did, and Wonwoo felt it.

The way your walls clenched around him tighter, the sudden wetness coating where your hips met.

“Oh?” his tone was dark with approval, “You like that?”

“S-So good, Alpha,” you choked out, mind growing hazy from your heat and the pleasure, “Love.. Love it so much! Feels s’good!”

His thrusts grew rougher as something primal took over. He removes his hand from your throat, sliding it down your body to rub tight circles over your clit. Your back arches as a sharp cry tears from your throat, body trembling uncontrollably. Slick gushes out from your pussy as you squirt again, drenching his shirt and milking his cock.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he growled, hips stuttering at the milking compression of your cunt. “Shit, I’m close, babydoll. And you're gonna let me fill you, isn’t that right?”

You nodded through the haze, words slurred by pleasure, “A-Alpha!”

That was all it took. With one final thrust, Wonwoo buries himself to the hilt as his cock twitches inside you as he cums deep inside you.

The room was thick with the scent of your heat and sex, but all Wonwoo could hear was the sound of your soft, uneven breaths – body still trembling from the aftershocks of pleasure, barely conscious of anything except for the way he filled you to the brim.

He stayed buried inside you for a moment longer, reluctant to leave the warmth of your creamed pussy. But when he hears your soft whimper, noticing the way your body twitching from oversensitivity, he’s snapped back to reality.

Wonwoo groans as he carefully pulls out, a groan escaping his lips at the sight of his cum spilling out from you – coating the insides of your thighs and dripping onto the sheets beneath you. You whimper at the emptiness, at the sudden cold air on your overheated skin.

He doesn’t say anything, only tucking himself back into his pants and stands up.

For a moment, you thought he’d leave you in his room – maybe even go as far as to sleep in one of the guest rooms.

But then, you hear the faint rustling of the plastic bag before the mattress dips beside you.

Wonwoo leans over, gently brushing away the sweat-damp strands of hair from your forehead. You can barely keep your eyes open, the heat and aftermath pulling you under.

Then, coolness.

A soothing, mental chill spreads over your fevered skin as he places a cooling patch on your forehead. You let out a shaky breath, weakly reaching out for him.

Wonwoo takes them in his.

“Shh,” he murmurs, his voice no longer holding that sharp or commanding tone. Instead, it sounds softer. “I’ve got you babydoll.”

His other hand adjusts the sheets around your body, tugging the blanket up to your waist after retrieving your night shorts from the floor. He made sure your legs weren’t tangled, made sure you were comfortable.

You blinked up at him sleepily, cheeks still flushed a shade of red and lashes slightly damp. “Please stay, Nonu…”

He freezes.

For a moment, the only sound was his breath, still a little uneven. You could tell he was torn between his old habit of keeping you at arm’s length and giving into his instincts.

Without uttering a word, he eases under the covers beside you, gently pulling you into his chest. His arms wrapped around you, strong and warm, as he nuzzles his face in your hair. “Of course, babydoll. You’ll sleep easier if I’m here.”

Wonwoo never stays. Once he’s made sure you’re in good hands, he'd leave.

But, tonight wasn’t like the others.

Tonight, he stayed – not to keep his distance, but to keep you close.

Tonight, he stayed to protect you.

His.

You felt it then– the way he held you. Not like a favour, but like someone claiming what’s his.

Weeks after that incident during your heat, you and Wonwoo went on with your lives as though nothing had happened. The mansion returned to its usual rhythm – quiet mornings, the hum of the electric kettle.

Wonwoo buried himself in work, occasionally checking up on you as per his mother’s command, occasionally picking you up from your flower shop instead of leaving it to Mingyu. They were… small efforts into making the marriage look less of a business arrangement, but you appreciated it nonetheless.

You busied yourself with your own work, too. But, you’d still go grocery shopping and prepare meals for the people of the mansion (which frankly, was a task you overestimated because cooking for 6 people proved to be a difficult task). They’d thank you, of course – you went through all the time and effort – it’d be wrong for them not to appreciate it and clean up after themselves.

However, you were careful to not let yourself brush against the Alpha for too long. Nor would you let your thoughts drift back to the night where tangled limbs and breathless whispers once filled the space.

While you both went on with your lives, acting as though nothing had happened – there was a subtle shift in the air.

Mingyu was the first to notice it.

Being one of the bulkier guards, he had been stationed at the mansion to keep an eye on things during your off days. It was a simple routine he took a liking to – he gets to have a nice conversation with less scarier missus and it was considered low stake.

That morning started out no different than the others. You passed him in the hallway, offering a soft habitual “Morning, Gyu” as you balanced a basket of laundry against your hip. He nodded in return, returning the smile and his eyes followed you until you turned a corner.

His nose twitched as he picked up the smell of something… sweet. Like the first bloom of spring in the middle of winter.

It was far too faint for it to be a heat cycle, but it still lingered in the air.

Mingyu couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. You looked the same, moved the same. But there was something different about your aura.

Wonwoo only noticed the sweetness of your pheromones once Mingyu brought it up.

He’d pause a little longer when he passed you in the hallway, fingers twitching just a little when your scent clung to the couch after sitting on it for hours. His jaw would flex when you leaned over him to grab something from the kitchen shelf.

Yet, he didn’t say anything.

Neither did you.

You hear the door open just past midnight.

Muted voices. Heavy boots.

You catch a whiff of the faint, metallic tang of blood and turn your head towards the front door.

Wonwoo was the first to enter, as always. His expression is calm, unreadable. His coat hung open, dark with flecks of something you didn’t need to guess. Jihoon followed close behind, quieter than usual. His shirt was stained too, though he’d slug his jacket over his arm to conceal most of it.

He looked… calmer. The tiredness in his eyes were evident, but he didn’t have that frenzied look he always had. There was no smirk, no offhand remarks about which body part he sliced off, where he left it or if he convinced Wonwoo to break every bone of their rivals.

You stayed curled on the far end of the couch, a soft blanket on your lap with a book in hand. “Hi, boys. Long night?” You asked, tone casual but laced with something warmer

“Hey, Missus,” Jihoon responds, brief but polite. “Kinda.. But, we got it under control.”

He disappears down the hallway without another word, tugging off his bloodied gloves. Wonwoo follows a beat later, slinging his coat over one shoulder, a faint dark red smear on his jaw. “Have you had dinner, babydoll?” His voice was oddly warm.

You nodded your head, “Gyu made some aglio olio with steak. There should be some leftovers in the fridge for you.”

Wonwoo nods in response. He continues to stand there, looking at you like he was still figuring out he’s supposed to get used to coming home to this – to you.

You look back at him, and he notices the subtle way your nose wrinkled at the scent clinging to his nose, how your fingers twitched against the cover of the book you’re holding.

“I’ll go shower,” he mumbles, voice lowering. It almost sounded like an apology in disguise.

He walks up the stairs, halting momentarily to look back at you. That scent of yours still hangs in the air – sweet, distracting. Wonwoo stands there for a few more seconds before disappearing in the halls of the house, leaving silence and a rising heat in your chest.

He reappears moments later, now in a loose shirt and pyjama pants – looking more like a sleep-deprived graduate student than a man capable of unspeakable violence. He heads towards the kitchen and you follow him, feet quiet against the hardwood floor.

The house felt too big at that moment, the silence stretching between the walls like it was listening. The Alpha doesn’t say anything, just moving with the practiced ease of someone who’d done this a hundred times – opening the fridge and grabbing a bottle of chilled wine. It was like he belonged in the silence.

The overhead light pooled golden over him, catching in the soft fall of his hair, the sharp line of his jaw. The loose fabric of his shirt clung to the curve of his shoulder, just barely damp from the shower he just took, and you caught yourself staring – longer than you should have.

“You’re not gonna eat what Gyu made?” you asked, breaking the silence between you both before it could swallow you whole.

Wonwoo didn’t look back at first, popping the cork with one clean motion and pouring himself a glass with a kind of ease that spoke about how often he did this – like he was numbing or avoiding something.

“It’s cold now,” he answers, voice quiet but not dismissive. The wine filled his glass with a smooth swirl of deep red.

Then, without a word, he reached for another glass.

Not for wine.

He filled it with water from the chilled filter on the fridge, the sound soft and steady in the stillness of the kitchen. He sets it down on the counter near you and you blinked. There was no eye contact nor explanation, but the gesture settled somewhere deep in your chest.

You take a step closer, fingers brushing against the cool glass as you pick it up. “Thanks..” You take a sip and set it back down, leaning against the counter with your arms folded loosely. “But, just because the food is cold means it’s bad.”

“I’m not hungry.”

You watch him bring the glass to his lips, taking a slow sip before setting it down with a soft clink. His gaze lingered on the dark liquid, as though he was contemplating something.

“You didn’t even look at the plate,” your voice wasn’t accusatory, it was just gentle – just there.

Wonwoo lets out a breath, not exactly a sigh. “Didn’t need to.”

The silence that followed felt different – it felt tighter.

Then, without thinking, you moved a little closer. Just enough to feel the warmth radiating off him. Just enough for your voice to come out quieter when you asked, “Do you ever let yourself take a break, Nonu?”

Wonwoo’s jaw tensed. He doesn’t look at you when he answers, “I take a break when I sleep.”

“You barely sleep…”

You see a flicker in his eyes – you touched something.

He knew it.

You knew it.

But he didn’t run from it, at least not this time.

“Then I guess I don’t stop,” his reply was low, maybe a little bit more honest than he meant it to be.

You stood there for a beat, the glass cool in your hands – the silence wrapping around you both like a blanket that was too heavy to shake off. Your eyes dropped to the way his fingers held the wine glass, knuckles still faintly pale from tension. The condensation on your own glass trickles down your fingers, as though it was trying to ground you in the moment.

“Are you hurt anywhere, Nonu?” The question came out softer than you meant it to be – it sounded warm and it lingered in the air. You didn’t look at him directly, just watching the condensation slide down the side of his glass.

“No.”

It was clipped. Cold. Dismissive.

The kind of answer that was meant to end the conversation before it could even start. You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. Of course – you weren’t supposed to ask. You weren’t supposed to care – not like that. Not out loud.

He didn’t move at first. Just standing there, knuckles pale against the glass as his eyes locked on some distant point past the kitchen tiles. The silence stretched, heavy and humming, until he sniffs your sweetness in the air again. The sweet scent relaxed his posture, his shoulders dropping just a little and his grip around the glass loosened.

You watched him carefully, heart thudding in your chest and your voice caught before you even knew you were going to speak again.

“Can… Can I sleep with you tonight, Nonu?”

The words hang in the air, delicate and trembling.

It was too soft to take back. Too honest to ignore.

His fingers stilled around the glass, the sound of the fridge humming filled the silence that followed. You hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but it had. Your heart thudded in your chest, loud enough to drown out the quiet.

Wonwoo stares at you, his expression unreadable. His eyes seemed darker tonight, shadowed by something you couldn’t quite place a finger on. He looked tired – not just physically-bone-deep tired, but it was like the world had taken a little more from him than he was willing to admit. Whatever he and Jihoon did out there, it still clung to him like smoke.

“Trouble sleeping lately, babydoll?” His voice was surprisingly soft, low and quiet like he didn’t want to wake the others in the house.

You nodded, looking at the glass in your hand. “The air’s been… weird lately. A-And, it’s hard to sleep without you lately.” Your fingers tightened slightly around the glass, voice barely above a whisper – shaky and raw, “I-I don’t know why but it is… Especially when you’re gone.”

He was still staring, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look up – not when you knew his expression is all it takes to undo you.

Another beat of silence.

One second.

Two.

Then, you hear a quiet breath escape him. His glass clinks on the counter as he sets his drink down.

His voice was soft, “Come on, babydoll.”

His response caught you off guard. When you looked up, he was already turning away, walking toward his room – but his pace was slower than usual. As though he was waiting for you to catch up to him.

Your heart flutters, warmth flooding your chest even as your legs carry you forward. Wonwoo doesn’t say anything when you slipped into his room behind him, the bed dipping under your weight. The mattress sighs softly when you settle in beside him – it wasn’t the first time you shared a bed, but it was the first time you asked to.

You lay on your side, back facing him as you clutched the edge of the blanket like it was the only thing anchoring you. Wonwoo doesn’t move for a while, but you could hear his breathing – steady, though it was a little too measured to be natural. Awake. Thinking.

Maybe regretting this decision.

Your throat tightens, tears brimming in your eyes as you start to overthink.

But then, quietly, just barely there, you feel the blanket shift. The mattress dips again, and your back feels warmer as his body inches close. It doesn’t touch, though it was there.

There was a beat of silence, the tension in the air so thick that you could feel it pressing against your skin.

Then, slowly his arm slips around your waist. It was slow enough to almost break you. Your breath hitches, but you don’t stop him. You don’t move, letting yourself sink into him. His hand rests lightly on your stomach, not in a possessive manner; just there, offering you a grounding presence.

“I don’t sleep well because I worry of the danger you’re in by being my mate,” he murmurs, voice almost buried against the back of your neck. “Not when I come back from that kind of work. Not unless I know you’re safe.”

You close your eyes, something in your chest tightens at the vulnerability in his voice, a kind of raw honesty he rarely ever let slip.

“I am safe, Nonu,” you whispered, “With you.”

He doesn’t say anything, but the way his arms wrapped themselves around your waist, the way his forehead lightly brushes against your shoulder… It was enough.

You didn’t say another word. You didn’t need to.

Sleep came slowly that night, but this time – when it did, it came easier.

And for the first time in what felt like weeks, neither of you woke up alone.

Wonwoo stayed late at the office one night. The quiet hum of the city through the floor-to-ceiling windows did little to distract him from the glow of his screen or the dull ache that was beginning to form behind his eyes.

Numbers blurred, reports repeated themselves – he was going through the motions, more out of habit than necessity.

His phone buzzed. His mother.

“Mother?”

“Wonwoo,” her voice was soft, but there was a certain sharp edge to it. “You’re working late again?”

“I am,” he said flatly, not annoyed – just a little confused as to why his mother was calling him.

“Go home, Wonwoo. Be with your mate. She needs you.”

The words stung more than it should have.

“She has Mingyu and Chan looking after her–”

“She doesn’t need them, Wonwoo.” Her voice firmer, “She needs you. Her Alpha.”

“What’s this about, Mother?”

“It’s hard for me to explain this over the phone, Wonwoo. Just… Just go home and be with ___, okay?”

The line disconnects before he could respond. Staring at his phone, his thumb hovers over the redial button, demanding answers.

He never got the chance.

His phone rang again – this time, Mingyu’s name flashes across the screen.

It was never a good sign when his men called him.

He picks it up on the first ring. “What?”

“Boss– Wonwoo– fuck,” Mingyu’s voice was shaking, breathless. “Where are you? Missus is gone. The door was busted in, Chan’s unconscious near the stairs and– fuck– there’s blood.”

The words don’t register at first.

“She’s gone.”

Wonwoo froze in his seat, phone pressed to his ear – Mingyu and Seungcheol shouting on the other end. Something about getting Chan medical help for a GSW to his abdomen. The office lights hummed quietly and everything around him felt… wrong. Too still. Too normal.

It was so… eerie.

Blood. Mingyu said there was blood.

“How messy is the place? How’s Chan?”

He finally stands up from the desk, papers fluttering off his desk, forgotten. His grip tightens around the phone until his knuckles whitened.

“It’s bad, Boss. This place is trashed, fuck.” Shuffling can be heard before Mingyu speaks up again, “Chan said she fought. Oh fuck, one of the guy’s face is clawed off.”

“Gyu!” Seungcheol’s voice rings through the background, “We got a survivor! Tell Wonwoo to come back quickly!”

Mingyu didn’t need to relay the message, already hearing Wonwoo starting up his car.

The Alpha’s jaw clenched so tightly that it started to ache. A sound clawed its way up his throat, something raw and ragged. But, he swallowed it down. “How long ago?”

“About an hour. Maybe less. Cheol and I went out to get some groceries and when we got back, we found the place like this.”

“Chan and Vernon?”

“Chan’s wound up pretty bad, but he’ll be okay. Vernon’s helping Cheol prepare the bastard that survived.”

Wonwoo exhales through his nose. He feels sick. His body wants to move, to run, to destroy something – but his mind was spiraling, trapped in the memory of your last interaction. Cold, casual and detached. Like you were just a roommate. Like he hadn’t felt the way you cling to him during that heat. Like he hadn’t felt you snuggle up close to him when you both fell asleep in the same bed weeks after.

He should’ve listened to his mother.

He should’ve come home.

“Make sure that bastard lives until I get there,” he ordered Mingyu, voice now low and lethal. “Tell Jihoon to get his switchblade ready.”

He ended the call and drove through the streets. The engine roars to life like it felt his fury, the sound tearing through the night as he shot out of the compound. Tires screamed against the pavement, and the city blurred past him – buildings, lights, the occasional flash of red as he burned through the intersections without hesitation.

You were his.

And someone had taken you.

He was going to make sure he’d put an end to those bastards.

Your head pounded.

The room swayed as you blinked awake, wrists bound behind your back and there was a coppery tang in your mouth. A single overhead light buzzed above you, like a spotlight focusing on the main lead, and the rest of the space was swallowed in the shadows.

Concrete walls. Damp floor. Industrial. Underground? Maybe.

You shifted, testing the restraints. You could move, but it’d take some effort to break free from them. Then you hear it.

Footsteps.

You stilled, keeping your head low as several men stepped into the room. You didn’t recognise their scents. They weren’t of anyone familiar to you. They weren’t Wonwoo.

One of them circled you, stopping somewhere behind you. “She’s smaller than I thought…”

“Yeah, but she’s feisty,” came another, his voice sharper. “Don’t let her face or size fool you. Bitch fucking bit me when we took her in. Had to knock her out to make things easier.”

One knelt in front of you, just out of kicking distance but you held back. “You’re awake.”

“Such amazing observation skills,” you snorted, blinking the haze from your vision. “What gave it away? My eyes being open or the fact that I’m glaring back at you?”

It was a shame they didn’t laugh.

“If you’re smart and behave, maybe we’ll go easy on you.”

You scoff, “Please, if you were smart, you’d know you made a grave mistake the moment you busted my front door in.”

The figure leans in slightly, expecting fear but all you offered was a tilt your head. “So, what’s the plan? Some kind of ransom? Revenge?”

The masked man tilts his head, brows furrowed in confusion. “You’re not exactly acting like a scared little Omega.”

“Yeah, funny thing about that – I bark and bite. If you assholes think you can–”

Smack.

A sharp slap landed across your cheek as you were mid-sentence. The sting flared, but you didn’t flinch. Instead, you take a deep breath and straighten your posture, licking the copper from the corner of your mouth. “Oh, my bad…” your voice was low, “But you really should’ve known better than to think I’d be the damsel in distress type.”

There were at least three of them when they returned after leaving you alone for hours. They still wore those black face masks, as if that was supposed to scare you.

One carried a metal case and the other cracked his knuckles, another move that was meant to scare you. But what was scaring you the most was how terrible their intimidation tactics were. You sat upright the best you could, back straight against the wooden chair, chin lifted like you hadn’t been bound for hours. Like you weren’t aching in places you hadn’t known could ache.

They didn’t speak at first, only opening up the case. Silver tools gleamed under the low light.

You arched a brow. “Wow. Dontcha think that’s a little dramatic? What happened to just asking nicely?”

One stepped forward and backhanded you, hard. Your head snapped to the side, cheek screaming from the impact, but you refused to give them the satisfaction of crying out in pain.

“Tell us everything you know about the Jeon clan,” demanded the man that opened the metal case. “Security. Other bases. Codes, if you know any.”

You spit at his face.

They didn’t like that.

The first hit was to your stomach – brutal and deep, knocking the breath from your lungs. Then another to your ribs, then your face again. You lost count after five, maybe six.

Still, you didn’t scream.

“Damn, this bitch can take hits.”

Pain blurred the edges of your vision, but you clung to consciousness with everything you had. You thought of Wonwoo. Of how he looked at you when you didn’t think you were watching. Of how he subtly showed his affection thinking you wouldn’t notice.

You thought about how furious he’d be if he were to see you in the state you were in. Wonwoo’s mother had previously mentioned their stand on crimes against women, how if their own had even a strand of hair plucked, the perpetrators would face dire consequences.

When they paused, panting like they’d been doing real work, one leaned in and grabbed a fistful of your hair, tugging on it hard. “Last chance. Talk.”

The smile you gave had one of them flinching. Not because of how badly beaten up you looked, but because it bordered on the line of a psychotic smile.

“The Jeons don’t break, and neither do I. We fucking burn.”

These bastards sure as hell loved leaving you alone. Though you’d consider it to be a mistake on their end.

Your body was wrecked – ribs aching, lip split and bruises were already to form everywhere. But you were still breathing, still alive and that was enough.

You tilt your head back, blinking up at the ceiling through the haze of the pain. Blood dripped down your chin, but your hands were slick now – whether it was from blood or sweat, you couldn’t tell. You twist your wrists again, angling against the metal cuff just the way Wonwoo had shown you during one of his late-night, paranoid self-defense lessons. “If they bind you with steel, look for tension. Give it slack, then break it where it’s weakest. Everything has a weak point.”

It hurt like hell, but you kept going. The metal bites deeper into your skin before it snapped.

You stifle a gasp as the cuff breaks loose with a sharp clink. Your left wrist was bleeding freely now, but you didn’t waste a second. You made your way to the door, and to your surprise, it was unlocked. Either they didn’t you’d try, or they thought you couldn’t.

You slid out silently, stating low. You hear footsteps and muffled voices somewhere down the hall. Realising you needed a weapon, you decided to find their weapons storage. Your head spun, but you pressed forward and duck into the first door you saw.

Luck must’ve been on your side because it led you exactly where you wanted.

Guns were lined up on the tables, the overhead lighting making it seem more ominous than it already was. Your fingers shook as you picked up a semi-automatic handgun – sleek, back, loaded. Wonwoo’s voice echoed again, “Don’t ever hesitate to shoot. That gives them a room to attack. You pull the trigger the moment they come into view.”

You hear footsteps approaching and pressing your back up against the wall, breathing through your nose, waiting. You hold the gun close to your chest, and when the masked man steps inside, you don't hesitate.

Bang.

He dropped like a sack of potatoes, the sound of the shot echoes through the hallway.

There was no going back now.

Shouts echoed down the hall and you made a run for it. Turning a corner, you came face-to-face with two more men. They hadn’t expected you to be armed, by the time they noticed the gun in your hand and reached for theirs, you had already pulled the trigger.

You ran past their motionless bodies, trying to figure out where you were. The layout and interior – you knew you were in some kind of warehouse. Then you smell it – the night air, you were close to an exit.

You burst through a door, grunting in pain from the sheer force you had put on your shoulder to get the damn thing to open. Your knees almost gave out, the adrenaline making your hands shake.

You kept the gun raised, every shadow looked like another threat.

But you didn’t stop.

Not until you were safe. Not until you got back to Wonwoo.

But you weren’t able to get far.

The alley had opened into a dead-end loading yard and your heart dropped the second you saw the rusted fence, the padlocked gate.

A black van screeched to a halt behind you. You spun, gun raised – but hands grabbed you from both sides before you could even aim. You bit, clawed and kicked, but there were too many. They slammed you face first down onto the ground, a heavy knee to your back following. Your cheek scraped against the pavement and the gun slipped out of your hand.

“Hello, ___.”

You froze, your blood went cold.

Juyeon.

You turned your head enough to see him step into view. His suit was stained, fingers missing from both hands – four gone entirely with pink scars crusted where they’d once been. He flexed what was left, grimacing slightly as if the sight offended him.

Wonwoo had done that. You knew it because Jihoon had told you – how he encouraged your Alpha to cut off the fingers on his left hand so they were more… symmetrical.

“You fucking bastard,” you spat, “I’ll have them dismember you–”

His laugh cuts you off. “Still got some fight in you, I see,” he mused. “That’s what my men meant by you’re no ordinary Omega.” He crouches down, eyes glinting with a dangerous edge. “But you’re more useful to me if you shut the fuck up.”

You snarled, bucking under the weight holding you down. One of his men shoved your head back down as Juyeon took out a syringe from his suit. The liquid was thick, glowing a faint blue under the alley lights.

“You know what this is, little Omega?” he asked conversationally, “The labs call it Phase Nine. It’s new. Not on the market nor the black market.”

You went still.

“It’s a liquid heat inducer that’s designed to have your primal instincts override your rationale. It could even break bonded cycles.”

You thrashed, “Don’t you fucking touch me with that! I swear I’ll–”

“Hold her,” Juyeon ordered.

“No!” You kicked wildly, but the hands clamped down harder.

“I said hold her!”

You screamed when he jabbed the needle into your neck and depressed the plunger.

A cold, burning sensation spreads through your veins like ice catching on fire. Your limbs trembled violently and your lungs burned with every breath you take. You heard Juyeon chuckle as darkness begins to swallow your vision.

“Take a little nap,” he whispers, “And when you wake up, your body won’t resist anymore.”

You wake to the sound of voices – low, mocking laughter. Your head throbbed, and your body felt… wrong. It felt as though weights were chained to your body and your head felt fuzzy. The heat inducers were still coursing through your veins, but you fought the haze, clinging to the remaining sharpness you had in the chaos of your mind.

You feel the fire burn from inside out, every nerve in your body screaming for release.

The door to the room opened and Juyeon stepped in, his fingers twitching where they were still missing. He wore that sharp, predatory grin on his face and how you wished you could slap it right off of his face. His presence was suffocating and the pheromones he was releasing stank up the room so bad you wanted to throw up.

You gritted your teeth and pushed yourself up from the cool, concrete floor. Your limbs felt like lead, but you couldn’t let him get close.

Only Wonwoo could touch you.

Not this disgusting bastard.

He notices the faint fight in your eyes and pauses, a cruel smile crept onto his face as he observes your struggle. “Shit, you are a tough one to break. Lucky for me I got more of those inducers to break you.”

He takes another step forward and your body tensed. “C’mere, Omega,” Juyeon coaxes, his voice so syrupy that it twists your stomach the wrong way. “Let me help you with that heat of yours, yeah? I’ve got something far better than the inducer you’re desperately fighting. Something real.”

You growl, throwing your body into him. Your actions startled him – he hadn’t expected you to fight, not with the drugs clouding your senses. But you didn’t need to be at your best. You needed to make him understand that you were more than just an Omega.

You got a punch in, a brutal hook to his jaw and knocking him back. Juyeon staggered, but he didn’t fall. His men moved, one lunging towards you; but you managed to catch his wrist, twisting it behind his back with a vicious snap, making him grunt in pain.

Another went for your throat, but you kicked up, shoes hitting him in the stomach that had him doubling over, gasping for air. It’s a shame you weren’t wearing your heels, would’ve left a mark on the bastard.

You moved again, a blur of motion and rage. You weren’t thinking nor did you care, you only had one goal – to survive.

Another man reached for your arm. You spun, elbowing him in the face then slamming your knee into his ribs. He staggers, gasping for breath. You were covered in sweat, heart pounding as your body rebels against the inducers.

One of Juyeon’s man was quick enough to grab you from behind, pinning your arms to your sides. “That’s enough,” Juyeon sneers, wiping the blood from his mouth. He grabs another syringe from the table, the liquid inside glowing a sickly blue. “You want to fucking fight? Fine. Let’s see how long you’ll last.”

You hissed, struggling against the man holding you, but the inducers were still tearing through you. The heat was unbearable, your vision swimming in and out of focus. You were starting to lose control.

“Fight all you want, sweetheart,” his voice was mocking as he approached with the needle. “But you’ll break eventually.”

Your hands were still unrestrained, and in that final moment of desperation, you grabbed an old pipe that lay on the ground. You swung it with all your might, hitting the nearest man across the skull. He collapsed with a sickening thud, and you barely had time to register the victory before Juyeon was on you again.

Your body was trembling, soaked in sweat as blood was smeared across your face and hands. The pipe clattered to the floor beside you, slick with someone else’s blood. Juyeon stood across from you, staggering as his face twists into something monstrous. The second that syringe slipped from his grasp during your scuffle, it shattered across the cement.

“You little bitch,” he spat, pulling out a switchblade from his pockets. “You think you’ve won?”

You didn’t answer, hands scrambling for the gun from one of his men on the floor. Your hands shook, but you raised the weapon anyway. Just like Wonwoo taught you.

Never hesitate when it comes to your life.

Juyeon takes a step forward and you pull the trigger.

Bang.

The scream that tore out of his throat was inhuman.

He dropped to his knees, clutching his crotch as the front of his pants soaked red. He writhed, gasping and cursing through clenched teeth. It wasn’t a clean shot, but you didn't want it to be.

Your hands were still trembling as you kept the gun trained on him. “Never… Never underestimate an Omega. Especially me.”

The door slammed open behind you. Boots thundered in, guns drawn and you hear voices yelling commands.

You didn’t turn. You didn’t have to.

You already know who it was.

“Clear the room!” Seungcheol’s voice echoed like thunder. “Get the Missus to safety and lock up any survivors!”

Vernon was quick to reach you, kneeling beside you as his hands tried to gently guide the gun down. “Hey, Missus…” he said quietly, “You’re okay now. We’ve got you.”

But you couldn’t bring yourself to lower the gun. It was as though you feared that if you did, Juyeon would get up.

Then you smelled him.

Wonwoo appears through the smoke of bodies, his eyes immediately locking on yours. The sight of you, his mate – bloodied, shaking and bruised – had him on his knees by your side in the blink of an eye. Sure, you were alive; but you were hurt.

He doesn’t say a word, only pulling you into his arms and holding you like you were the last thing in the world that mattered. You didn’t even realise how cold you were until Wonwoo wrapped his arms around you.

His warmth crashed into you like a wave, and what very little strength you had left was gone as your body collapsed into his. You could feel the way his body shuddered as he held you, his breath ragged against your hair, like he hadn’t been breathing until that moment. His hand held the back of your head, fingers tangling in your messy hair like if he let go – you’d disappear.

“I’ve got you, babydoll,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I’ve got you now.”

You dropped the gun.

And finally, your body let go.

Wonwoo carefully knocks on the door, a way to announce his presence before sliding it open. His eyes meet yours and his shoulders slump when you give him a small smile. “Hey…” was all you managed to say before his giant stature envelops you in a tight embrace. The Alpha nuzzles into the crook of your neck, a quiet whine leaving his lips as he takes in your scent. It’s grounding, calming – proof that you’re here, safe, and his.

You melt into his warm embrace, your hands instinctively finding their way to his broad back. His tense muscles slowly relax under your touch, his soft whines turning into soft hums of contentment.

“I… I was so scared,” Wonwoo admits, “Scared I couldn’t find you, couldn’t reach you in time… I –”

“Nonu,” you call out softly, one hand moving up to comb through his dark locks, “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

He nods and pulls away, the crease in his brow not fully gone. “Yeah, but… I can’t help to think of the worst case scenario of what could’ve happened had we gotten there any later… ___, the doctors said you were practically battered. There’s even still traces of that heat inducer in your blood.”

You shudder at the memory of having the liquid injected into you, Wonwoo tightening his hold on you. “They didn’t touch you did they?”

“Well, it depends on what you mean by touch..?” It was more of a question than a statement, “They didn’t put their dicks in me if that’s what you’re wondering. I was drugged up and a little woozy, but I managed to fight them off until you guys showed up.”

“So, they did touch you,” he sighs, pressing a gentle kiss to your template. “I’ll deal with those bastards once I head back.”

He cups your face in his large hands, his eyes scanning your face as if committing every detail to memory. “How are you feeling, babydoll? Feeling any better?”

You manage a faint smile at Wonwoo’s concern, your fingers brushing gently over the back of his hand where it cradles your cheek. “I’m feeling better,” you murmur, though the ache behind your ribs and the lingering exhaustion paints a different story. “Just… Just need to pee real quick…”

Wonwoo looks hesitant, but he nods, reluctantly removing his hand from your face.

You swing your legs over the side of the bed and push yourself up, determined to manage the short walk to the bathroom without assistance. But the moment you stand, a sudden jolt of pain rips through your lower abdomen. You let out a strangled gasp that makes Wonwoo instantly alert. Your knees give out before you can even call out to him.

You clutch your stomach as your body crumples to the cold tile floor.

“___!” Wonwoo is quick to drop to his knees beside you, arms wrapping around you before you hit the ground. “Babydoll, hey, what’s the matter?”

“It hurts,” you wheezed, eyes squeezed shut as another wave of pain twists through you. “Nonu, it… My stomach hurts.”

He feels his heart shatter at the sight of you writhing in pain, his arms tightening around your waist as he gently tries to ease you onto his lap. “Fuck, okay. I’m calling the nurse–”

“No, don’t go,” your breath was shallow, hand clutching the fabric of his shirt tightly. “Stay. Please.”

“Shit, shit… I’m here, babydoll. I’m not leaving.” Wonwoo’s voice is firm but trembling, his free hand fumbling for the call above him. He presses it repeatedly, urgency written all over his face. “Nurses! Doctors! We need help in here!”

He cradles you closer, rocking you slightly as if trying to soothe you through the pain. “You’re gonna be okay,” he murmurs over and over, lips brushing against your forehead. “I’ve got you, babydoll.”

Moments later, the door bursts open and nurses rush in. Wonwoo doesn’t let you go, not until they gently urge him aside to check your vitals and prepare to move you. Even then, his hand never leaves yours.

And when they wheel you away for tests, his gaze follows you – haunted and fierce – already blaming himself for letting you get off the bed in the first place.

“I’m terribly sorry, Mrs Jeon… It seems you had a miscarriage.”

The words hung in the air. The silence that followed felt suffocating, like a weight pressing down on your chest. Wonwoo’s and your mother wrapped their arms around you in an instant, offering you comfort; but everything felt so… distant. Their voices were muffled and the doctor’s face was blurred as the word ‘miscarriage’ echoed in your mind.

Your hands instinctively moved to your stomach, as though you were trying to hold onto something that was no longer within reach.

Meanwhile, Wonwoo’s tense body stood behind you as if he were a statue that’s freshly carved from stone. His emotions were frozen in place and his silence was louder than anything else in the room.

Suddenly, the pieces began to fit in place.

Why his mother kept nagging him to return home instead of doing overtime in the office.

Why his father kept urging him to look into a bigger home.

Why his mother and mother-in-law kept visiting you while he was away.

Hell, that even explained why Jihoon was more tame.

You were pregnant.

Pregnant with his child.

Your mom and Wonwoo’s mother tried to comfort you with soft reassurances murmured in your ear, but they couldn’t pierce through the thick glass that’s been erected around you. Your mom’s hand stroked your hair, a gesture that was meant to soothe you. But it only reminded you of the ache, of a loss so sudden that it felt as though a piece of you had been ripped away.

Wonwoo’s shaky voice brought you back to reality, “How… How could this have happened? W-When– How long has she been pregnant? She wasn’t displaying any symptoms or even showing!”

The doctor shifts, looking at the clipboard in his hand. “Mrs Jeon was around… seven weeks into the pregnancy. It’s not uncommon for the symptoms to be minimal, especially in the early stages. We suspect that what Mrs Jeon had experienced was a cryptic pregnancy, where the pregnancy goes undetected or unnoticed.”

You feel the Alpha shift his gaze from the doctor to you. “Seven weeks…” His voice was laced with confusion and guilt as he tries to recount every moment he’s spent with you, searching for signs he might have overlooked. He runs a hand down his face, resting it over his mouth as he mutters, “Fuck… No wonder your scent was sweeter…”

“As for what could’ve caused her miscarriage… We can only assume that it was due to the recent… uneventful incident that the Missus has experienced. The emotional, mental and physical distress coupled with the absence of an Alpha must’ve increased her stress levels to a point where it significantly affected her well-being.”

The doctor lowers his head in condolences and exits the room. Both yours and Wonwoo’s parents left soon after, deciding to give you both some privacy.

“Nonu…” you croaked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Your broken voice seemed to crack something within him and his rigid frame finally moved. Wonwoo sinks down to his knees in front of you, his hands hesitantly reaching for yours. He held them gently, and despite his warm touch, you could feel the tremble in them.

“Babydoll…” You finally forced yourself to look at him, and the sight added another weight to your already heavy heart. His jaw was clenched as his lips were parted slightly, his lips trembling slightly while his eyes glistened with unshed tears. He’s quick to cup your face when you sniffle out his name again, wiping away the tears that began to spill from your eyes.

“No, no, no…” he murmurs, wiping away your tears. “Don’t cry, babydoll… This isn’t your fault, yeah?”

His tender words only made the tears fall harder. The pain in your chest was unbearable, and the sound of his voice made it harder for you to hold yourself together. You shook your head, “N-No… Nonu, it was my fault. I-I should’ve been more alert or at least aware as to why I was –”

“Hey, hey…” He interrupts gently, “Don’t do this, babydoll, please. Don’t be so hard on yourself. You didn’t know, and even if you did, this is something out of your control.”

His thumb continues to stroke your cheeks, wiping away the endless tears that streamed down. “B-But… I-I should’ve.. hic… told you that I wasn’t feeling… hic… like myself.. M-Maybe i-if you’d known, you could’ve –”

Wonwoo presses a gentle kiss to your lips, leaning his forehead against yours once he pulls away. “Babydoll, please, don’t blame yourself… I… I should’ve been a better husband… I shouldn’t have just left you all alone again after your heat. I shouldn’t have kept my distance from you thinking it’d be a good decision… I should’ve been paying more attention to you, been home with you..”

His confession made your heart ache further. You reached up, your hands trembling as they covered his. “No, Nonu… Please, don’t say that… You've been the perfect husband and –”

“Babydoll, I wasn’t there to realise something was up. Our parents knew it before we did and –”

“We could… We could try again, right..?” Your voice was shaky, filled with uncertainty and carried a weight as though speaking it out loud could shatter what little hope you were clinging to. Wonwoo’s breath hitches, his eyes carrying the same raw, aching vulnerability you felt.

“Oh, babydoll…” he whispers, his lips trembling as he pecks your lips, “Of course we can. We can try as many times as we want, but that’s for when you’re ready – when we’re ready. Right now… Let’s… I… Let me make sure you’re okay.”

You nodded, hands moving from covering his to clutch the fabric of his shirt; as if holding onto him would stop the pieces of your heart from falling apart any further. “We’ll try again,” you echoed, voice trembling but filled with a quiet determination. “When we’re ready.”

Wonwoo hums, tilting his head to the side so he could capture your lips in a tender kiss. His lips moved against yours gently. It was soft, unhurried, and full of unspoken promises. When he pulls away, his forehead rests against yours once again, and his hands move to cradle your face, thumbs brushing softly against your cheeks.

Snow muffled the world outside the cabin, layering the landscape in a blanket of silence and softness. The fire crackled lowly, casting shadows on the wooden walls and painting flickers of gold across the thick blanket tangled around your legs.

It’s only been days since you left the hospital, body still aching quietly – your ribs would hurt just a little when you breathed in too deeply, you could even feel the stiffness in your limbs when you moved too fast. But here, tucked away in the mountains with no one but Wonwoo, the pressure to be okay all the time faded just like the hush of falling snow.

Wonwoo sits beside you on the edge of the bed, his presence warm and steady. He’d just come back from gathering more firewood, snow melting in his hair and a few flakes clinging stubbornly to his coat. You watched him shrug it off, mouth watering at the way his muscles ripple under the thick sweater as he crossed the room to tend to the fire.

God, he looks so good you just wanna pounce on him.

He returns to the bed, slipping under the covers with you like he belongs there – like he’d always been there. One of his arms snakes around your waist, drawing you against his side with practiced ease, careful to not press too hard against you.

He smells like warm cedar, a touch of pine, and that deep, grounding Alpha musk that seeps into your senses like a balm. He exhaled softly, rubbing slow circles into your hip with his thumb.

“Is it too cold?”

You shake your head, almost purring into him. “Not with you here.”

Wonwoo’s expression softens, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Good. I was worried it’d be… well, something you wouldn’t like. The snow, the isolation…”

“You picked it for a reason,” you whispered back, nuzzling into his chest. “It’s quiet up here. I like that.”

He held you closer, his heart beating steadily beneath your cheek. “I needed us somewhere no one could reach. Just for a little while.”

“Because I’m still healing?” Your voice was smaller than you meant for it to be.

“No.” His answer was immediate. “Because I need time with you. Alone. Not shared. Not interrupted. Just… us.”

You hum, closing your eyes and letting yourself be embraced by the most fearsome man of the city. In this moment, where the world was blanketed in snow, where nothing existed but the steady beat of Wonwoo’s heart and the feel of his body against yours, you were safe.

“Nonu?”

Wonwoo looks down, still curling against his side beneath the blanket, hand pausing on your waist. “Yeah, babydoll?”

You hesitated, feeling your pulse thudding against your ribs. You feel the warmth of his body pressed against yours and the subtle way his scent thickened the longer you laid together in the quiet cabin. Maybe it was the isolation, or the cold outside – or maybe it’s just him.

The sense of safety he gives.

You swallowed, “What… What do you think about knotting me?”

Wonwoo stills, his hand splaying wider on your waist as a means to ground you in place, as though you’d float off if he didn’t. He leans down slowly, brushing his nose against your cheek. “Are you asking me if I thought about it?” his voice is now laced with some darker, thicker. “Or if I want to?”

Your face burned, and you tried to look away, but his hand caught your chin, gently coaxing you to meet his eyes. His gaze flickers down to your lips, then lower, and back. “You know I’ve thought about it, babydoll. Especially that time during your heat, but I had to stop because we were still getting used to each other.”

“What about now?”

His voice drops, “You’re still healing. Not now, okay?”

You let out a shaky breath, “I feel okay, Nonu. Better. And… I want it. I want you”

His hand tightened slightly at your hip, not enough to hurt, but just enough to let you feel the echo of what he was holding back.

“You sure, babydoll?” he asks quietly, “Because once I do that, there’s no going back to pretending I don’t need you. I’m going to be all over you, y’know?”

You reach for your Alpha, fingers curling into his sweater, voice barely steady. “Then let it.”

For a moment, Wonwoo just stares at you. And then the alpha in him stirred – quiet and hungry – as he shifts to hover above you, mouth grazing yours. “My feisty Omega can’t help but to be all soft for me now, hmm?” his voice was rough with barely checked restraint and it was enough to have you dripping. His breath ghosts over your lips, his nose brushing yours as his eyes darken. “Always biting back, but the second I touch you like this…”

His hand slides down your thigh, his touch possessive and curls it under your knee, spreading you open just a little more before pulling down the pyjama pants you were wearing.

“...you melt.”

Your breath catches, fingers curling into his sweater as heat coils low in your belly. Wonwoo wasn’t just teasing, he was marveling.

“Oh, babydoll,” he continues, enjoying the way your thighs tremble when his cold fingers trail up the skin of your bare thighs. “I’m going to bury myself in you and let my knot swell so deep that you’ll forget where I end and where you begin.”

“You’ll take good care of me, right, Alpha?”

Wonwoo groans softly, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’ll take good care of you, my sweet Omega.”

He kisses you slowly, soft at first – the deeper, hungrier, like the dam had cracked and he could finally taste what he’d been starving for. His palms slid down your sides, memorising every curve, every shiver. He doesn't rush, deciding to not strip you out of the sweater you were wearing to keep you warm.

Pulling away just enough, Wonwoo slides off his glasses and settles them aside on the nightstand. His eyes, dark and intense, were focused entirely on you. The familiar weight of his gaze sent a shiver up your spine. It was as though without the barrier of his glasses, he could see straight through you.

“You’re so beautiful, babydoll,” he murmured, breath brushing against your lips before he kissed you again, deeper, like he couldn’t stop himself. He groaned against your mouth, the soft drag of his lips against yours. His fingers traced the line of your jaw., down your neck and over the curves of your body, like he was committing the shape of your body to memory.

You let out a shaky whimper, hands trembling as you reached for him, tugging him closer. His entire being invades your senses, filling the space between your bodies as his kiss grew more intense, more desperate. You can’t help but respond to his hunger with your own, pulling him closer against your body.

You barely registered the way Wonwoo moved, only the warmth of his body that left yours for a moment. You hear the quiet click of the drawer opening beside the bed. Your voice wavered between surprise and something breathless, eyes widening just a little as your Alpha pulls out a slee black toy from it. It gleamed in the firelight, deceptively elegant. It wasn’t flashy, obviously neither you nor Wonwoo liked flashy. It was plain black, smooth, curved, and obviously meant for one purpose.

"You brought a vibrator on our honeymoon?"

Wonwoo shrugged, “More like Jihoon and Mingyu told me to. They’re… invasive to say the least.”

“How did they even know we’d be doing this?”

Wonwoo gives you a dry, amused look, like you’d just asked why the sun rises. “They’re nosy and overconfident. Honestly, since that night of your heat and when you’d ask to sleep with me, Mingyu said he can smell some kind of budding romance.”

You stared back, “That’s… That’s not a real thing, right?”

He shrugs again, “God knows. Jihoon just enables him. I have a feeling they packed it themselves when I wasn’t looking.”

A pause.

“You don’t check your luggages?”

“They probably hid it under my clothes.”

You snort, “I’m surprised it even made pass customs.”

Wonwoo chuckles, “Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing they’ve smuggled through airport security.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Do I even want to know?”

He tilts his head like he’s genuinely considering it. “Probably not.”

You stare at the vibrator in his hand, “So… What use is this to us and did you at least sanitise it?”

Wonwoo sits back on his heels, the firelight casting him in gold and shadow as he pushes the sleeves of his sweater up to his forearms. “Of course I sanitised it, babydoll. As for what use, I’m sure you have that figured out.”

You let him part your legs slowly, his eyes instantly dropping to your wet cunt. He caresses your thighs, coaxing them wider and when his scent changed, thickening with quiet arousal, your body responded like it knew what was coming.

“I’d consider my knot to be big,” he said, voice low and even. “It’s gonna take more than just my fingers to open you up.”

He doesn’t wait for a response. He eases two fingers into your cunt, tongue darting out to wet his lips when your breath gets stuck somewhere between your ribs and your throat. The drag of his knuckles felt cruel, like he wanted you to know exactly how he’d take you apart.

When he pushes in a third finger, you whimper. The stretch burns at first, before it fades into a more consuming ache. Your hips buck instinctively, his hand on your waist kept you pinned down like you were nothing more than a body to be used.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, shifting closer so his lips brushes against your jaw, “You keep clenching like that and I’m going to think you like being stretched out like this.”

His fingers curled again, and you choked on a cry.

“Atta girl,” he praised, smiling against your skin.

The air was heavy with the smell of sweat, arousal, and something more dangerous. You were trembling underneath him, not just from pleasure but from the oppressive weight of his presence, the way he looked at you like you’re something fragile yet can’t help but want to break you at the same time.

Every curl of Wonwoo’s fingers leaves you breathless, the coil in your lower belly growing tighter. “You’re dripping, babydoll,” he says flatly, drawing his hand back just enough to spread your wet folds with two of his fingers before plunging them back inside. “You’re making a mess and I barely touched you.”

With one final curl of his fingers, your back arches involuntarily as his fingertips press hard against your g-spot over and over. “C’mon, babydoll,” he murmurs, voice filled with arousal. “Cum for me.”

Your body obeys, a loud cry of his name tearing through your throat as your body seizes, pussy walls fluttering around his fingers. Your nails dig into his arm, thighs trembling around his wrist, and all you can do is ride it out as he coaxes every last tremble from your body. He doesn’t stop until you’re twitching, breathing hard, and sweat sticking to your skin.

Only then does he ease them out, slowly. He lifts his slick covered fingers to his lips, tongue flicking out to taste you as he keeps his eyes on your ruined expression with a dark glint.

“You taste sweeter than I thought,” he mumbles. Leaning down, he presses a gentle kiss on your lips before spreading your thighs again. “Gimme one more and I’ll knot you, yeah?”

He turns on the vibrator, the black toy humming to life. You watch with wide eyes as he brings the toy to your slick, pulsing entrance. The moment the curved tip presses inside you, your hips jerked. It zeroed in on that spongy spot deep inside you, making your vision blur and your thighs tremble.

One hand keeps your hips still while the other begins to move the toy inside you. Your breath stutters, back arching as the toy presses up and in, vibrating relentlessly against your gspot. Your legs twitch, thighs trembling as you try to squirm away from the intense pleasure, but Wonwoo won’t let you.

He keeps you in place, spread open while he grinds the toy mercilessly against your gspot, your pulsing walls clenching and unclenching around it rhythmically. Slick, wet sounds fill the room, echoing between your moans and the relentless hum of the vibrator. Your knuckles turned white as your hands clutch the sheets, the coil in your lower belly tightening up again.

“Nonu!”

“Gonna cum again?” he asks, voice low and taunting. He pushes the toy deeper and your vision goes black around the edges. A broken sob claws its way out of your throat as the pressure becomes unbearable. “C’mon, babydoll. Show me how greedy this pussy is. I want you soaked for my knot. Wanna feel you gush all over me.”

He twists the vibrator just right, thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit and your body convulses around the toy. A loud cry rips from your throat, sharp and raw as your pussy squirts, hips arching off the bed – drenching his wrists, the toy and the sheets beneath you.

Wonwoo groans, eyes dark as they lock on the way your body submits to him so beautifully. “Fuck, babydoll” he breathes, tossing the wet vibrator aside. “You’re ready to take me now. Gonna stretch you around my knot just how you’re meant to.”

He doesn’t even bother to wipe his hand, sliding them under your thighs and guiding them around his waist, lowering himself over you. You can feel the heat of his cock, flushed and heavy, grinding his length against your slick folds. “Gonna knot you so good, babydoll. Fill you so full that everyone who smells you knows you’re taken.”

You lick your lips at the weight of his knot that’s already swelling at the base. You lock your legs around his waist, heels digging into the curve of his back pulling him closer.

That was all the permission he needed.

Wonwoo lines himself up, holding back a growl as the blunt head of his cock bumps against your clit. His jaw clenches, holding back a guttural growl as he pushes in, inch by inch. Your eyes flutter shut as he stretches you, your slick walls sucking him in greedily.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he grits out, kissing your jaw. “So fucking wet. Pussy feels so warm that I could die happy right now.”

You whimper, back arching as he bottoms out, his knot pressing against your entrance. He rolls his hips experimentally, letting you feel every vein of his cock, the way his cock drags against your soaked, swollen walls.

His head dips to press his mouth against the curve of your jaw, your throat. “Taking me so well. Fuck, you feel so good.”

His hands tighten on your thighs, pushing them up so your knees are pressed against your chest, angling your hips just right so he can sink even deeper. His leaking cockhead bullies your sweet spot, making you cry out with each thrust.

“Feel how deep I am, babydoll?” He slides a hand between your bodies, pressing down on your lower belly. You moan at the pressure, nails scratching down his clothed back and Wonwoo starts to roughly thrust into your sloppy cunt. The drag of his cock against your walls sends aftershocks through your twitching body.

Wonwoo groans loudly, biting down on your shoulder – not hard enough to break the skin nor the sweater you wore, but enough to have your wet walls squeeze around him. “Shit, babydoll. Your pussy tightens up when I bite you. You like that, huh? Like it when I mark you up?”

You can’t answer. You’re shaking and gasping, all thoughts wiped out by the way his leaking cockhead grinds into your cervix with every thrust, body starting to bounce from the sheer force.

He presses down on your belly again, palm flat and firm. The pressure makes you clench reflexively, his eyes focus on the way your pretty cunt is stuffed snugly around his dick – entranced with the way your puffy lips coat his thick cock with your sweet cream.

“Nonu,” you whine out, feeling a jolt of electricity run up your spine when his abdomen rubs against your clit. “Please! Want your knot!”

Wonwoo growls, forcing his knot past your rim with one brutal thrust and stretching your pussy wide. You cry out in pleasure and pain, nails digging into the fabric of the sweater that he thinks you’d shred it into pieces. You feel it pop past your entrance and lock inside you, your vision going white.

He pulls out halfway only to slam back in, so addicted to how tight and wet you are around him. He loves how your gummy walls are taking his knot, how the lewd sounds of skin slapping and the wet squelching of your pussy fills the cabin. Wonwoo’s thumb finds your clit again, rubbing it hard and fast; grunting in approval when he feels your arousal drip out your stuffed cunt.

“N-Nonu, ‘M gonna cum!” you moan, head thrown back against the pillows as he fucks you harder into the mattress.

“I know, babydoll,” he murmurs, “Can feel your pussy milking my cock.”

Your walls flutter wildly against him. His knot throbs, snug and swollen inside you, ready to fill you up. “Cum for me, my Omega,” he groans into your neck, planting wet kisses as he chases his own climax. “Make a mess on my cock.”

Your orgasm slams into you, white, hot and all-consuming. Your entire body convulses underneath him, pussy creaming his dick. Wonwoo curses under his breath, hips jerking as your pulsing walls trigger his own release.

“Take it,” he pants, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he spills his cum deep inside. Ropes and ropes of hot cum flood your womb, and you mewl as your mind wanders back to the first time he filled you up.

Your Alpha stays buried inside you, knot locked tight as he releases your legs, hanging them over his forearms. One hand has a possessive grip on your hip while the other rubs your overstimulated clit in slow, teasing circles with just enough pressure to make you jolt.

He grinds his hips against you, knot fully lodged inside you. It’s said that Alphas cum more than they usually do when knotting their bonded mates, and sure enough, Wonwoo was indeed filling your pussy with load after load of his hot cum. Not that you were complaining though. You happily take every drop he gives you with a blissful smile.

The fire had burned down to glowing embers, casting the room in a dim amber. You’re still lying beneath Wonwoo, still stretched wide around his knot, both of you soaked in sweat and slick. You could still feel him twitching inside you, some of his cum slipping past the tight sleeve of your cunt around him.

He releases his hold on your legs so he can bury his face into your neck, pressing soft kisses to the skin, teeth nipping over your scent gland. His voice was soft when he praised you, “My babydoll did such a good job at taking my knot.”

His hands slide under your sweater, caressing your body in gentle touches. You both stay like that until his knot deflates. But, your body hasn’t had enough yet. Your hips shifted without thinking, instinctive, needy.

Wonwoo chuckles when he feels it, pulling back to look at you – his eyes dilated and darker than before. “You still want another round, babydoll?”

You bit your lip, squirming just a little as your walls flutter helplessly around his girth. “Well, you’re still hard, Nonu~”

His grin is wolfish, but there’s a glint of fondness in his eyes that makes your heart flutter. He hums, rolling his hips just enough for you to feel the slow drag of his length still nestled inside you. “That’s ‘cause your greedy little pussy won’t let go of me.”

He leans down again, pressing a kiss just below your jaw, tongue darting out to taste the salt of your skin. “Keep squeezing me like that and I’ll knot you again, babydoll.”

You purr, bucking your hips up to meet his.

Wonwoo hisses, shifting his weight and hooking his forearms beneath your knees. In one swift motion he folds you in half, sinking his cock deeper into your pussy. He kisses you hard, tongue sliding against yours as he pounds your soaked cunt, thick cockhead repeatedly knocking against your cervix so hard it knocks the breath right out of your lungs too. You gasp into his mouth, body starting to tremble from the stimulation.

“Fuck,” he moans, “Pussy still so fucking tight. Look so fucking hot full of my cock.”

You cry out when you feel his knot start to swell inside you again. You can only moan and cry as he keeps hammering his cock into your sensitive hole. “Bet you’d take every load I give you, huh? Stuff you so full you’ll be dripping for days.”

Your head lolls back against the pillows, lips parting in a breathless moan. You feel everything – the stretch of his knot forcing you wider, locking you in place, the way his cock drags along your swollen walls.

“Nonu–” you whimpered, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes. “Full! Too full–”

“But you can’t help but to want me to fill you again,” he groans, gripping your hips with a bruising grip. He shifts the angle of his thrusts, feeling him in your guts as his thick cock pummels into you relentlessly. Wonwoo groans when he feels your pussy constrict around him again. “Ohh, fuck, babydoll. You gonna cum again? Gonna squirt all over my cock like the needy little Omega that you are?”

You can’t answer, the only sounds leaving your lips are your filthy moans. You wail every time he drives his dick in and out of you, grinding his thick knot right against that spongy spot inside you until you reach another climax.

Your whole body seizes as you cum hard, the air being punched out from your lungs. You gush around your Alpha, liquid splashing between your thighs – soaking his sweater and the sheets beneath you. Wonwoo is mesmerised by the sight of you squirting all over his cock, how your eyes screwed shut while your sweet cries filled the room.

“Fucking hell, babydoll,” he growls, throwing his head back as he feels his own climax approaching. “Squeezing my cock so fucking good.”

The milking compression of your walls around him, clenching and unclenching around his knot, like your body was begging for him to creampie you was what drove him right to the edge. With a loud roar of your name, his whole body goes tense. His fat cock twitches and throbs inside you, flooding your already wrecked cunt with spurts of his hot cum. His knot swells further, making sure to keep your soaked pussy filled to the brim.

You cry out, nails digging into his forearms as you feel droplets of his cum drip down your thighs. Wonwoo groans when he feels your walls flutter around his length, grinding his hips slowly to try and push his cum deeper.

When he releases your legs from the mating press he had you in, you let out a moan of relief. Your muscles are barely able to hold up after being held up in that position for so long. Your thighs fall limp on the bed, trembling, and slick with sweat and a mixture of your bodily fluids.

Wonwoo doesn’t move, his cock still buried inside you as he continues to release more ropes of thick cum, coating your walls. He places his palm flat against your belly again, right over the small swell of where his cum is filling you – where his knot is. Then he presses down on it.

You gasp, your entire body jerking.

Your cunt tightens reflexively, milking his cock for more of his cum, and he groans at the squeeze. You whimper, eyes glassy, and droplets of tears cling to your lashes.

Your body goes limp beneath him as Wonwoo hovers above you, back hunched as he tries to come down from the delicious high he had just experienced. He’s still sheathed inside, cock still pulsing, his cum sloshing inside your pussy that he can already feel it dripping down your thighs.

But, fuck, the way you were tightly holding onto him – his pretty Omega all wet and stretched and stuffed to the brim, it had his instincts just snarling beneath the surface.

“Shit, babydoll,” he murmurs, voice thick with pride and affection, “Knotted you twice and you’re still squeezing me like you want a third.”

You let out a shaky chuckle, looping your arms around his neck. “I might,” you whisper, giving him a dazed smile.

Wonwoo shakes his head, “You’re insatiable.”

When he leans down to pepper kisses to your throat, you whimper out his name. “Shh, I got you, babydoll. Let’s wait til my knot deflates before we do anything else.”

You hum, clinging to him as your legs weakly wrap themselves around his waist, body still trembling from pleasure and emotions.

And as the snow continues to fall outside, blanketing the surrounding world in white, you and Wonwoo stay tangled together in the heat of the cabin, arms holding each other like you’d never let each other go.

taglist @livelaughloveseventeen @mrsjohnnysuh @luvjichang @peachytokki @arusio @wooingmandy @scoupsonlycherry

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81sainz · 7 months ago

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DIET PEPSI ★ L. NORRIS

★ PAIRING: boyfriend!lando x female!reader

★ GENRE: NSFW

★ SUMMARY: in which lando pulls over to watch the sunset with you in his porsche; things take a turn from there.

inspired by “diet pepsi” by addison rae

★ WORD COUNT: 1.2k

★ WARNINGS: car sex, semi public sex, nasty kissing, making out, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, teeny bit of praise cause I can’t help myself, cumshot. lando is soooo sweet. I think that is all! please be noted this is only semi proofread.

★ AUTHORS NOTE: finally! making my formula 1 fic debut! I hope you all enjoy this. I started writing this somewhere before summer break and unfortunately just got to finishing it. life…am I right? I guess the lyrics hold true because my boy has won 2 times since then! I know this one’s a bit short, but feedback is appreciated!

“Are you sure no one is up here?” you asked your boyfriend as you unbuckled your seatbelt.

Lando reached over slightly and gave your thigh an affirmative squeeze. “It’s fine, I was looking around.”

The two of you were on a drive in his 911 carrera and pulled off to a small spot up on a hill that overlooked the city. It was later in the evening and the sun was setting; casting an orange glow over Lando when he turned to you.

“You look so pretty in the light. Come here.”

Lando adjusted his seat before helping you over the center console and gearshift of his vehicle.

“I don’t want to break anything.” You spoke out loud with a laugh as Lando had his hand on your leg to help you.

Lando shushed you. “You’re fine, I’ve got you.”

You were in his lap within seconds; adjusting the skirt that you were wearing slightly to get more comfortable.

“Comfortable?” Lando brushed your hair off of your shoulder before planting a few kisses softly onto your skin near your collarbone.

You hummed in response, nodding before combing your fingers through his soft curly hair as his mouth made its way up to your neck.

You let a small whimper escape your lips when Lando’s teeth scraped your skin slightly.

Your hand tightened in his hair as you rocked your hips into his lap; feeling his bulge through his jeans.

“Fuck.” Lando swore under his breath as his hands roamed your thighs and to the curve of your ass underneath your skirt.

“I want this off of you.” Lando glanced up at you quickly for any sign for him to stop before unbuttoning and unzipping your skirt, removing the item of clothing from your body and throwing it into the passenger seat.

You mentally thanked yourself for the outfit choice of yours.

“Wow.” Lando let out a sigh, leaning to kiss you again as his hands returned to their place on your thighs, and moved up to your waist.

You were eager for him, grabbing a hold of his white button down shirt for any way to get him closer to you.

Lando shifted in the driver seat, his hands holding your hips as his jeans brushed against your cunt.

You let out a moan into his mouth, and Lando took that as an opportunity to tongue kiss you; reaching up to grab the nape of your neck with one of his hands.

Pulling away slightly with a hum, you noticed Lando’s breathing to be slightly more erratic than before.

“Baby, I need you..” Your voice faded when Lando kissed you again. You knew you didn’t really have to say anything; Lando knew you like the back of his hand.

“I’ve got you.” Lando mumbled, guiding you to rest your knee up onto the door panel of his porsche. “Stay like this for me, ok?”

You nodded, biting down onto your bottom lip as he locked eye contact with you.

Lando quickly glanced in his rearview mirror to check if anyone was around; still nobody.

He pulled the fabric of your underwear to the side, audibly groaning at how easily his middle and ring finger slipped inside of you.

You let out a whimper, squeezing onto his bicep for some stability.

“Oh my fuck, why didn’t I take you home?” Lando was talking to himself, because there was no way you were going to answer him.

There was absolutely no space between the two of you, as this car was not ideal.

You could hear the squelching noise coming from underneath you, making you look down; covering your mouth to stifle your moans. There was nothing that Lando hated more than when you hid from him.

“Get that hand off of your mouth, sweetheart.” Lando spoke, slipping a third finger into your cunt; knowing you’d react.

“Good girl, gonna cum for me?” Lando asked, kissing your jaw and down towards your collarbone. “Hmm?”

You were breathless, but still managed to use your words. “No.” You paused, your voice sounding like a whimper, grabbing onto Lando’s shirt as you tried not to fall apart. “I need you to fuck me, please.”

“Fuck, are you sure?” He asked, his face centimeters from yours. Lando was taken aback at your forwardness, but willing to do anything you wanted.

You hummed, nodding before kissing him. You moved your hand down between your legs; feeling the now very prominent bulge in Lando’s jeans.

He let out a deep throaty groan at the contact. “Fuck.”

You tried to unbutton his jeans really fast, but with your position on his lap it wasn’t working.

“I got it, I got it.” Lando’s larger and more steady hand replaced yours as he worked his pants down to leave enough room for his cock.

You let out a sigh when you felt him teasing the head of his leaking cock against your folds. “I can’t believe we’re doing this here.”

“What?” Your voice was breathy as Lando gripped your hips to lower you down onto him. Your question was instantly replaced by a moan of his name.

“Nothing.” Lando grunted before throwing his head back. “God, how do you feel so fucking good?”

He still had a grip on your hips; hitting all of the right spots that drove you insane.

“Hmm- Fuck!” You cried out. “Right there, right there.”

“Shit.” Lando swore, letting go of you with one hand to have you look at him. “You’re cumming already?”

You eagerly nodded before Lando suddenly crashed his lips with yours. The kiss is sloppy; messy.

You could feel your thighs starting to ache, and a tinge of overstimulation when Lando applied pressure to your clit with the pads of his fingers.

Gasping, you pulled away from the kiss, swearing under your breath as Lando was pulling another orgasm from you so quickly as you still fucked yourself on his cock.

“You can give me one more, yeah?” His voice was low as his hot breath ghosted your face. “Make a fucking mess out of my car.”

In your attempts to slam down onto him harder, your rhythm faltered as you came again. Your legs were now shaking as you clenched around Lando’s cock.

The sun was almost down, making it somewhat difficult to see his reaction; but you had an inkling that he had to be close.

“Lando…” Your voice was a slight whimper again, making Lando wince. “Cum in me, please.”

“God im close, im really fucking close.” Lando spoke, sucking in a shallow breath through gritted teeth.

It wasn’t too long after that he finally reached his peak, nearly holding you down on his lap as he grunted expletives as he tried to be as quiet as possible.

“Lando…” you winced as you already felt the mess between your legs. “Stay inside of me like this.” You leaned into him, resting your head on his heaving chest.

“We can’t stay here.” You could tell Lando was smirking by the way his voice sounded. One of his hands smoothed out your hair before he kissed the top of your head. “I know you’re tired, but we can’t.”

“I know.” You huffed, exaggerating a pouty attitude. “You’re so warm.” You kissed Lando near his mouth a few times, making him scrunch his nose.

Finally you sat up, letting Lando help you off of his lap and into the passenger seat. The two of you fixed your clothing before Lando leaned over the center console to kiss you.

“Okay, take me home.”

#f1 smut #formula 1 smut #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader #formula 1 driver x reader

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pha55ed · 9 months ago

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Diet Pepsi || F2

type :: smut! tw/cw :: size kink (ollie), corruption (paul), fem!reader (all) contains :: ollie, paul, pepe, zane summary :: certain kinks that the drivers have, - "break all the rules 'til we get caught" diet pepsi - addison rae (my first smut on this acc!)

request :: i desperately need a paul fic based on diet pepsi by addison rae i dont know why i js think its such a perfect combination 🤧 also maybe bed chem by sabrina carpenter is also perfect for him - 🧸 (thank u for the request! i love ovulation songs LOL)

f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist || more here!

Ollie Bearman | 87 size kink

He's aware that he's bigger than most people, but he loves comparing how much smaller you are to him. Hand sizes, height, weight, anything. It makes him so happy to know that he's stronger than you, it makes him feel so masculine and protective.

It's a bit rude, but honestly he doesn't care - he loves treating you like a rag doll. Using one hand to pin both of your hands down above your head so he can use you without you clawing at his back. Easily separating your thighs from each other with his strength even if you try to close them. Or his favorite, simply lifting you up into the air and fucking you while standing up - gripping your waist with two hands and lifting you up and down on him with such ease.

But don't worry, after being so mean to you he's gentle at the end. Cuddling you in his arms, he's always going to be the big spoon. Brushing your hair to the side and cupping your face, telling you that you did amazing even though you were a pillow princess.

Paul Aron | 17 corruption

There's just something about ruining your innocent image. It doesn't matter if you're a virgin or not, but the way that you're perceived by the public being so different from how he sees you. The media sees you as a sweet and quiet person, more reserved than others.

Yet he sees you in ways no one else is allowed to. And he loves that, he loves knowing that he's ruining your image, he's the one making you act so out of character.

Wearing things like a cute sweater, innocent skirts, and bows in your hair make him go crazy. He doesn't want you to take them off, he'd rather fuck you while wearing those so he can see this sweet girl get her brains fucked out.

Pepe Marti | 21 cock warming (lwk edging but it depends)

He's a busy guy with a lot of training to do. So the best way to stay close together is to simply just cock warm, it makes perfect sense. You sit on his lap, his dick in you, while he stim races for hours on ends. His bare chest is so warm and comfortable, you can't help but try to fall asleep.

But you're never able to, because the second he crashes or finishes his race - he relieves his feelings onto you. Thrusting into you by surprise, going at a rapid and fast pace. He'll only stop once he's over his anger or the next race loads in.

And once it does, he stops instantly and locks into his race. So you're left there, edged and overstimulated from the past times you've came all over him. It's confusing in your guts, but it's better to feel full than empty.

Zane Maloney | 05 overstimulation

Being a racer requires being an adrenaline junkie and good health. Perfect for you, since you get the honors of having your brains get fucked out by Zane every time he's free. He loves using all his energy and pent up anger on you. He'll spend hours fucking you without him even cumming once, to make sure that you get the best experience.

But it's never boring, as if could be with him. He loves trying new positions and adding different stimulations for you. Reverse cowgirl, doggy style, 69, every position ever made has been tried by Zane and you. Every single sex toy has also been tried by Zane and you, no matter how odd or weird.

Not only is it a good way for him to get his energy out, but he's also just a curious person. Seeing you react to certain touches, hearing you moan just a bit louder, all of it is worth it to him. It makes him so happy to know that he's making you feel good. He doesn't even care how long he has to wait till he finally cums, because any time with you is good time.

(Zane is deadass so cute like omg, why have I never looked at him??? he has tattoos? listens to podcasts for fun?? loves the US and the diverse culture??? the cutest fucking gummy smile I've ever seen????? I love him now)

f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist || more here!

#f1 #f2 #formula 1 #formula 2 #ollie bearman x reader #paul aron x reader #pepe marti x reader #zane maloney x reader #f1 x reader #f2 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 2 x reader #ollie bearman #paul aron #pepe marti #zane maloney

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jaellyfishh · 19 days ago

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The Corner Where We Met · Part 5

trope: art teacher!azzi x PE teacher!paige

content: miscommunication, HUGE azzi dialogue and mature content towards the end

dc: i was struggling on this one fr. this chapter’s a mix of Azzi and Paige’s POV. i’m planning on dedicating a chapter mostly in Paige’s POV soon. still thinking as i go. feedback is appreciated!

word count: 9.8K

Thursday, fourth period

Paige was whistling her way down Moore’s second floor high school hallways, heading downstairs towards the school’s clinic to bother Kayla during her free period - her usual Thursday activity. Suddenly, she heard someone call for her name.

“Psst, Paige!”

The blonde whipped her head towards the voice to be greeted with a familiar face peeking out the music class’ door.

“‘Ms. Burrell, wassup?” Paige fully turned around and walked slowly towards her.

“We finished up our rehearsal, so my piano’s free,” Rae explained, eliciting raised brows from Paige. “How about I give you a proper lesson instead of just letting you sneak in here to play it when I’m not around?”

”Hey, I did ask permission the first time. And you were there the other time, busy writing your composition or something. So, technically, I wasn’t sneaking around,” Paige raised her arms up in defence.

Rae laughed. “Alright, alright. You gonna take the lesson or not?”

“Mmyeah, why not?” Paige shrugged with an animated frown before stepping into the class.

As Paige took her seat on the long piano stool, Rae nervously sat beside her, her muscles partially tensed when their arms brushed against each other.

“So…anything in particular you wanna learn? Since you already know some chords,” Rae asked, eyes cautiously glancing at Paige, who stared blankly at the piano keys while humming, thinking of a song.

A few seconds passed and a faint smile etched across Paige’s face.

“Elvis Presley. Can’t Help Falling In Love,” the blonde said plainly.

Rae raised her brows, head tilting with amusement. “That’s interesting. I thought you’d pick Yurima’s Kiss The Rain or something like that”.

“That’s too common. I wanna learn this,” Paige said with certainty while facing Rae.

The taller woman felt a warmth grow on her cheeks as Paige looked at her, to which she quickly covered with a chuckle.

“So you chose the most common romantic song?” Rae quizzed.

Paige shrugged again, looking back at the keys. “I dunno, maybe I’m feeling a bit…romantic these days”.

Rae held her breath, her heart thumping loudly in her chest, a small wave of hope creeping on her mind.

“Ooo, got somebody on your mind?” she asked cautiously, playing it cool.

“Uh… perhaps,” Paige shrugged.

“Anyone that I know?” Rae pressed a little.

“Maybe,” Paige answered with a polite smile. The vague answer making Rae’s heart race, feeling both hopeful and dejected.

But Paige didn’t feel the need to tell anyone else about her and Azzi. To her, it was a mutually exclusive, going nowhere, yet intimately growing relationship - and she’d like to keep it that way. It was comfortable enough.

“O-okay. Well, I’ll show you a beginner’s way to play the song. We’ll start with the right hand first, then practice with the left. Just follow what I’m pressing,” Rae started placing her hands on the keys, Paige following suit.

The familiar tune filled the empty room as the pair continued pressing on the notes in a slow tempo. After a few mistakes and several melodic repetitions later, the fourth period bell rang for lunch, causing the pair to stop, halfway done with the song.

“Wow, Paige, you’re a quick learner,” Rae smiled.

“You’re not too shabby yourself. Dang, now I gotta remember all of it,” Paige laughed while sighing.

Rae chewed on her inner cheeks before an idea popped in her head. “Hey, maybe I could teach you over the weekend? For reinforcement, of course”.

As Rae fiddled with her fingers in anticipation, hoping to score an unofficial date with the gym teacher after school. Paige hummed to think.

“I appreciate it, Rae. But, I’ll have to decline. I made…plans,” Paige smiled sympathetically, partially lying.

Well, the blonde had yet of a plan. She didn’t want to say that she reserves her weekends in case Azzi would be free after school. It wasn’t for anyone else to know, anyways. Fudd had days being on the brink of exhaustion, barely left with free periods ever since taking up the high school’s art classes, which limited the pair’s time to seeing each other at work or after school.

Rae didn’t want to push, but still wanted to take her chances. “I understand. Look, if you have spare time fourth or sixth period tomorrow, we can do our lessons then”

“Aye, I’m free fourth period,” Paige smiled at the schedule’s alignment.

“Then it’s booked,” Rae shrugged with confidence as Paige chuckled.

The blonde exited the class, thanking the music teacher briefly before heading downstairs. As Paige descended the last flight of stairs, her eyes caught a familiar figure walking down the adjacent hall. The two locked eyes, Paige smiling widely as she stepped on the ground floor.

“Hey, stranger,” Paige greeted Azzi, whose eyes wandered to the stairs behind.

“Coming from somewhere?” the shorter woman asked curiously.

“Yeah, just played the piano a bit. The usual. Rae was teaching me,” the blonde breathed out, still smiling at the Azzi.

Azzi’s expression slightly dropped. “Rae taught you?”

Paige tilted her head. “Yeah”.

“T-that’s nice of her,” Azzi stuttered, trying to give a polite smile.

“I know, right? Inês would’ve bit my head off before I even thought about touching her piano,” Paige joked, making Azzi half chuckle. ”Once I get good, you’ll be my first audience”.

Azzi smiled. “Yeah?”

”Mm-hm,” Paige looked at her, almost smitten.

Azzi bit her inner lip, her mind repeatedly asking the one simple question she’s been wanting to know. Then a voice interjected from nowhere.

“Coach B, you stare at yo’ mama with those eyes?” a young boy snickered, while the rest of his group stifled a laugh.

“Stay right there, Michael!” Paige yelled at the high schoolers, who raised their hands pretending to be scared, nonchalantly walking towards the gym. “I’ll have to go, but I’ll see you if I can”.

“Don’t worry about me, go,” Azzi chuckled.

Paige tapped Azzi’s arm lightly before jogging towards the boys, hooking one arm around Michael’s neck and giving him an aggressive noogie.

Azzi half smiled in endearment, watching them walk further away before returning to her own classroom.

“What did I say about minding your own business, man?” Paige scolded as they walked.

“Ow! Sorry, geez! Stop being such a simp then!” the young boy yelled in a whisper.

“A simp? I’m sure Cassy knows all about that, huh?” Paige retorted.

“I dunno what you’re talking about!” Michael turned red in self-defense before his friends made teasing noises to taunt him.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, buddy”.

—

Friday, fourth period

“You’re getting the hang of it now, Paige!” Rae cheered for Paige, who was mastering the first half of the song with both hands already.

“What can I say? I’m a natural,” the blonde responded with a common line.

Rae giggled. “If you can do this, the second part won’t be as hard”.

“I trust you. I have to give you credit for your teaching skills, though. Inês would’ve made me cry,” Paige joked with a grin.

Rae smiled shyly, tucking her hair behind one ear. “You’re pretty charming, Paige, I have to admit.

Paige was caught by surprise, appreciative of the compliment before making another light-hearted joke. “Wow, that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever told me today”.

Before Rae could speak further, the bell rang, alerting the pair that it was lunch time.

Azzi ascended the last stair of the second floor before hearing some chatter. For some reason she paused in her steps, peering through the wall’s edge. She caught Paige and Rae leaving the music room, which Fudd assumed was empty when they were inside. Closely observing them, they looked deep in conversation, laughing at each other probably over some lame joke Paige told.

Azzi’s breath hitched, the twist in her stomach returning.

And for the first time in a while, Azzi was reminded of her past, the image of her old self taunting her. She began breathing erratically, stumbling backwards.

Just then, a voice snapped her back to reality.

“Azzi, you going to lunch?” Kayla’s softly voiced as she held Fudd’s lower back, her face slightly concerned.

“Huh? Oh, um…Of course, ha ha” Azzi laughed dryly.

Kayla took notice. “You good?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? C’mon,” Azzi’s sudden change in expression left Kayla unconvinced, but she didn’t press further, unsure of what to suss out.

The friend group were in their usual spot again, in the corner of the room, noisy as usual. The common buzz of teachers chatting was like white noise to Azzi, whose mind went on autopilot. Her reactions to her friends’ conversations were half-hearted as she pretended to listen, her thoughts elsewhere. Paige, who sat beside her, noticed she didn’t get her usual attention from the curly brunette.

“Azzi, try this,” Paige smiled, motioning her fork that held what looked like a honey-garlic glazed salmon.

Usually, the younger woman wouldn’t hesitate to try a bite, but she just stared at the fork, emotionless. “I’m good, P, thanks.”

Paige furrowed her brows slightly, retracting her hand back. Before she could ask her something, KK’s loud voice called for Azzi, asking her to recount some funny story during last year’s field trip.

The blonde let it be, resuming eating and observing the woman beside her, whose emotion was hard to decipher.

Is it me? Or maybe she’s overworked? Or maybe it’s actually me? Paige’s thoughts ran.

After half an hour of empty exchanges between them, the lounge had already emptied out and the pair seemed to be the last to leave the vicinity. Before Azzi walked out without saying a word, Paige tugged on her arm just slightly, trying to catch her before they parted ways.

“Az, what’s wrong?” Paige was straight-forward, looking at her in bold concern.

The younger woman’s eyes scattered, her head turning the other way before looking down, then back up again. “Nothing’s wrong”.

“I don’t believe it,” Paige stated.

“It’s…it’s just work”. Azzi partially lied, unsure of what to say, or rather, afraid to admit her underlying feelings.

Paige sighed sympathetically. “If it’s work, you know I can always help out, right? Show me the assignments. Tell me what to grade, I’ll share the load with y-“

“No, no, it’s not like that. This is just…one of those days, kinda thing,” Azzi trailed, her reasoning vague.

Paige tilted her head in confusion, this angle of Azzi’s behaviour quite new to her. Although the blonde didn’t know what was really going through the brunette’s head, she thought maybe Azzi needed to unwind, take a break from school work, even for a day.

“Come by mine tonight. I’ll cook you something nice,” Paige said quietly with cautious eyes anticipating Azzi’s reaction.

To Azzi, that was the most tempting offer. But, maybe it was luck or unfortunate timing as she had already made plans.

“Thanks, Paige, but Caroline and I made plans over the weekend. We’re leaving tonight for Montgomery, a mini staycation. I figured I needed to unwind”.

Paige half smiled, relieved to know they both knew Azzi needed it.

“That sounds great, you deserve it,” Paige rubbed her arm.

—

Azzi and Caroline spent a good three hours at Montgomery Hotel’s famous bath and spa, the knots in their muscles kneaded out at the massage parlour and their bodies detoxified at the sauna. The pair were now ending their night in a secluded corner of the warm baths, catching up on life.

“Alright, spit it out, you don’t look like yourself,” Caroline couldn’t hold it in. She had hoped her best friend would’ve opened up about something early on, but her patience ran thin.

“I know, I know,” Azzi responded dispirited. “I was really hoping I came over it, but I thought wrong”.

Caroline tilted her head, scooting closer to Azzi.

She continued to ramble on. “It’s about Paige. About what we have. And the flashbacks. And… Rae“.

“Flashbacks? Rae? What?” Caroline looked lost, shaking her head as if to hear better.

“Sorry, I’ll try that again. You know how I told you Paige and I have no label? Well, we never had the chance to properly talk about the ‘rules’. Or, more like, we didn’t really care much about it ‘cause I think we know where we stand. Until Rae, you know the new music teacher, came into the picture. I had my suspicions, but I ignored them at first. Then two days ago, she asked me if Paige was single”

Caroline’s eyes widened. “For real? And what did you say?”

“I said yes. And I also said she wasn’t seeing anyone-“

“Girl, why did you say that?” Caroline asked in a light-hearted manner.

“I know. I realised my mistake then, but I didn’t take it back because when I thought about it, Paige and I never specified if we’re only seeing each other”

Caroline furrowed her brows trying to think. “But Paige isn’t actually seeing anyone else, though, right?”

“Yeah? Maybe? You never really know. Technically, we should be allowed to meet other people until we figure out what we want, right?”

“Azzi, have you seen Paige spend her free time outside of school with anyone else besides you?”

“No”

“Well, do you want her to meet other people?”

“No”

“And do you want to see other people?”

“Not really. I only like Paige”

Caroline remembered the other word Azzi mentioned. “What about the flashbacks?”

“Well…Paige told me she was getting piano lessons from Rae in school- Yeah, I’m hoping it’s not anything like that. I saw them walk out the music room together yesterday, smiling, laughing at each other… I was reminded of how I was treated back then. I guess I didn’t wanna disappoint myself again, so I-“

“You let Paige go”

“It shouldn’t have clouded my judgement, but I couldn’t help it.”

Caroline only frowned sympathetically, rubbing on Azzi’s arm.

“Azzi…I know it’s too much to ask, but why don’t you just tell Paige the truth?”

Azzi shook her head. “Truth about how my ex treated me like shit when we’re not even dating officially? It might be too much on her…”

Caroline sighed. “Isn’t that what’s holding you back from wanting to be in a relationship with her, though?”

“I…” Azzi thought long and hard about it. “I guess so.”

“Then talk to her. Next Monday, tell her after school or something. It’ll be fine. Knowing Paige, she’d drop everything for you”

Azzi nibbled on her lower lip, semi chuckling yet still covered in anxiousness. “Yeah, I’ll see how it goes.”

—

It was a Saturday afternoon when Paige was busy cooking for lunch, when she received a notification from her phone.

Camera Arnold (1)

The blonde halted her activity momentarily to unlock her phone, curious to know what would KK like to annoy her with on a weekend.

KK: Boogers! You free tonight?

Paige sighed, her mind thinking about Azzi and what could’ve been a day shopping for groceries and cooking her food, but is now in her apartment ready to binge watch White Lotus alone.

Paige: Maybe. Why?

KK: Bar Lobo at 8? We’re giving Rae her welcome to Moore moment. Everyone’s coming, minus Caroline and your wife

The blonde chuckled.

Paige: Wife is crazy. But I’m down. See you later bookie!

KK: See ya bookie!

. . .

Paige made her way to Bar Lobo, the breeze of the chilly night hitting parts of her exposed skin. She didn’t wear anything too fancy, just a white crop top and a black leather jacket with wide faded jeans, her infamous boxer shorts revealing just above the pants, and some platform boots. Her hair was down, with light waves, and a no makeup, makeup look on.

As she walked in, she was already greeted with the booming sound of music, a remix of familiar songs playing, the dance floor crowded as usual, and the DJ lighting putting her in a trance. It didn’t take long before she spotted her friends in the rounded booth in the centre, all of them chatting and taking sips of their glass.

“Paige! You made it!” Nika yelled in high spirits.

Paige laughed as she approached them before her eyes locked onto a new face among her usual crowd, who was already staring at her. Rae was sitting in the middle almost tightly squeezed in between Aaliyah and Kayla, purposely compressing her body to make space for herself.

“Y’all realise how much you’re torturing Rae over there?” Paige pointed out with a chuckle, causing the other women to notice.

A chorus of profuse apologies sang before the girls shifted outwards, causing Rae to laugh at the scene.

“Thanks, Paige. You look good, by the way,” Rae commented.

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” Paige responded coolly before taking her seat at the edge as she was the last to arrive.

Paige started easing her way into the group’s conversation, everyone enjoying each other’s company and the overall atmosphere of the night club, when a certain pair of light brown eyes kept glancing at the blonde over several minutes. Rae was almost blushing and quite nervous, the aura Paige radiated almost too enticing for the teacher. She wanted to get as close to the blonde, hopefully strike up a conversation, maybe flirt a little. Then she quickly thought of an idea.

“Guys, sorry, I need to use the toilet,” Rae interjected.

The ladies were quick to get up, slightly struggling in their movements but had made enough way for Rae to leave.

Just minutes after, she had sauntered back to the booth, her eyes targeting Paige with a level of confidence she hadn’t tapped into before.

As the women saw her, they almost stood up again when Rae stopped them.

“No, no it’s okay! I’ll sit here for now, makes it easier,” she said before the girls scooted a little to make space for Rae at the edge of the booth, now sitting beside Paige.

She noticed the blonde extend her arm across the table to where she had sat previously and returned her drink to her. The kind gesture made Rae’s heart swell, her infatuation for Paige cementing.

“I thought you had plans, Bueckers,” Rae was able to start.

Paige scrunched her nose briefly. “I had to make some changes”.

Rae got excited, perhaps assuming the blonde cancelled for her. She noticed Paige only having a glass of water. “You’re not gonna drink?”

“Uh, I don’t really drink. They’re used to it, I’ll be fine,” the blonde explained with a small smile. “You like the place?”

“I do, it looks fun. Inês told me about this place before, but seeing it in person is kinda cool,” she responded, taking a sip of her glass.

“Guys, I got us more shots! You better drink up!” Kayla yelled as everyone else cheered.

As the waiter came in with a plate full of shots for everyone, except Paige, KK took out her phone to take videos and pictures.

“To Rae Burrell, welcome to Moore!” KK toasted.

As each person downed their shot, KK continued taking pictures, capturing a moment of Rae laughing and leaning towards Paige, who said something about ‘you’re gonna regret that later’ with a wide smile.

After an hour and a half of nonsensical conversations and safe alcohol consumption flew by, the girls soon made their way to the dance floor, encouraged by the intoxication.

“This DJ’s so good!” Rae shouted, her eyes half-lidded and her mind getting lost in the sound, a drink in her hand.

“She is! You never want to leave the dance floor!” Paige yelled back, swaying next to her, enjoying the music.

Just then, the DJ creatively transitioned the song to something slower and sexier, the familiar tune of Muni Long’s Hrs & Hrs started playing. KK was way too excited a row behind them as one of her favourite songs played, picking up her phone to once again video the crowd.

Just then Rae, gathering the confidence from her almost lost inhibitions, turned her head to Paige. The blomde was still swaying by herself in the same motion, mouthing some of the lyrics and slowly bobbing her head.

Rae’s hand moved first before she could think, suddenly touching Paige’s arm to grab her attention. In one swift move, Rae slowly wrapped her arms around Paige’s neck, while carefully holding the drink in her hand.

The blonde froze at first.

Rae didn’t say anything. She just smiled dopily, instinctively inching closer, not wanting to kiss Paige yet, but wanting to feel her body close, relish in her touch.

Paige clenched her jaw, a mix of confusion, guilt and sympathy washed over mind within seconds. Soon enough, she gently grabbed hold of Rae’s arms, carefully detangling them from her neck and putting them back to her sides.

“Rae… I’m seeing someone,” was all the blonde could say, twitching her lips to the side and shoving her hands into the front pockets of her jeans.

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry,” she said faintly enough for the blonde to hear it, a tinge of embarrassment in her tone.

“Not your fault. Don’t feel bad,” Paige shook her head, trying her best to console her.

Soon after, Aaliyah tugged on Rae’s arm when the song transitioned to another R&B classic from Ray J.

“Rae, that’s your song!” Edwards exclaimed giddily, swaying the arms together as they danced away.

Paige just bit her inner cheeks, unsure of what to feel. Amidst her guilt, her mind was already picturing Azzi, her dimpled smile that she loved and her touch that she craved. Paige already misses her, even if it’s been two days.

A couple hours went by when Paige decided to end everyone’s night after being completely wasted. Before the potential of Nika vomiting again, Paige had timely called for some of their Uber. She carefully guided Nika, Kayla and Rae into the car, making sure the driver knew where to go. And then dropped Aaliyah and KK home as they lived the closest to her.

It was almost 3am when Caroline and Azzi were in their hotel room, the ending credits of the movie rolling, signalling to stop their never-ending gossip session. Azzi and Caroline’s screen lit up showing a notification that KK sent a message to the groupchat.

As the pair unlocked their phones, tons of media from the night were sent, waiting to be downloaded.

“Oh, it’s from the girls tonight. Looks like they’re having fun,” Caroline tiredly commented.

Azzi was silent, scrolling through the pictures knowing Rae would be there. She saw some group selfies and pictures of the food. But what caught her attention the most was Rae and Paige sitting next to each other in the booth in some of the group pictures.

Azzi felt a pang in her chest.

There was that shot KK took of Rae leaning on Paige, both of them laughing as they held their drinks. Then there was one video, it was blurry and quick in motion. The sound of Muni Long’s Hrs & Hrs blasting through Azzi’s phone speakers. It was hard to tell what was going on at first with the amount of bodies in the video, but then she caught it.

Slightly further from the view, she could see Rae wrapping her arms around Paige before the camera turned away.

Her heart shattered.

Azzi locked her phone off and flung it towards the end of her bed before going under the covers, her eyes welling up.

“Azzi?” Caroline was confused. She got up to take Azzi’s phone to unlock it, revealing the video. She replayed it again before she noticed the same thing again.

“Oh, Paige,” Caroline whispered to herself in disappointment before turning her attention to the blanket-covered lump on the bed in front of her.

After Azzi’s last break up, she tends to shut people out when she needs time to think. Then when she had figured it out in her head, she’d pretend to be fine the next day until she’s ready to address it. Or until her breaking point. It was a coping mechanism she developed after her last breakup, sparing no time to wallow in emotions when she’s got a job she cared more about.

Caroline knew this and just let Azzi be for the night, allowing her to rationalise her thoughts and let the sleep take over.

—

Monday, morning assembly

Paige was lightly huffing and puffing as she jogged her way to the gym. She could only blame herself for snoozing her alarm long enough for her to be late. But the blonde couldn’t help it, she was up all night over the weekend thinking about Azzi.

Paige had been ghosted by her the entirety of Sunday when the blonde was curious for an update on the staycation, unable to contain her yearning. But after a whole day of no response and rejected FaceTime calls, Paige could only worry that something might’ve happened.

Paige barely made it on time at the start of the assembly, quickly making her way to the row of teachers and subtly waving her head around to find Azzi. Unluckily, Nika and Aaliyah had already taken their seats beside her, leaving only one empty seat just behind them… right next to Rae.

Oh, great, Paige thought. Not so much in disgust, but more so in nervousness, uncertain of what Rae must be thinking, if she can even remember what happened last night.

Before sitting down, she noticed Azzi glance behind her before whipping her head back to the front, emotionless and stoic.

“Morning,” Rae quietly greeted with her lips pursed.

“Hey,” Paige plainly replied, sighing as she sat down.

As the announcements went on, Rae’s leg kept on bouncing, her thoughts going a mile a minute. Paige noticed immediately, frowning a little.

“Rae, can we talk later?” Paige whispered as she leaned slightly towards her.

The nervous woman stopped bouncing her leg, turning her head to face Paige with a surprised but guilty look. “Yeah, okay”.

As the pair sorted out their arrangements, Azzi was able to eavesdrop the entire conversation, lowering her head and swallowing hard to contain her sadness.

Azzi might have lost faith, that the mistrust she had on people she fought hard to overcome was all for nothing, an effort in vain.

By the end of the assembly, Paige tried to approach Azzi, who was leaving her seat to get to her students.

“Azzi-“

“Breanna! Your mom did your hair today, huh? It’s beautiful. I like the pink beads, it’s my favourite colour,” Azzi smiled widely at the young middle schooler, who beamed brightly at her teacher.

Paige could only stare as the two kept each other close until the end of the hallway, leaving the lone blonde hurt and confused among the scattering crowd. She rubbed her hands on her face, giving herself a moment before shaking her head. With a long sigh, she brought herself to the second floor, to where she needed to meet Rae for the first period.

“Paige. I-I just want to say I’m sorry. Had I known, I wouldn’t have done it. And the alcohol,” Rae rambled on, her face painted in guilt.

“Rae, relax, it’s okay. You didn’t know,” Paige reassured before taking a seat on the chairs, motioning for Rae to sit as well. “I didn’t feel compelled to tell you because…honestly, I didn’t know you saw me that way”.

Rae half smiled before Paige continued.

“I’m seeing Azzi”.

The name piqued the taller woman’s interest, causing her to raise her head, her mind piecing things together.

“I…I knew it,” Rae slightly smiled to herself, a soft sigh escaping her mouth almost in relief. “I had my suspicions, but I didn’t wanna be too invasive at first”.

Paige chuckled in amusement. “Didn’t think we’d be that obvious.”

“Paige, are you kidding me? Dropping her to class every morning? Feeding her your lunch every day? Anyone would think y’all were dating. Heck, I thought y’all were dating,”

Paige grew red, rubbing her forehead in embarrassment. “But because Azzi said you weren’t seeing anyone-“

“Wait. Azzi said that?” Paige asked, puzzled and betrayed.

“Yeah. She said you were single and I should ask you to find out for myself. Great, now I feel like I was set up,” Rae shrugged, leaning on her seat.

Paige furrowed her brows. “There’s something she isn’t telling me. She’s been ghosting me since yesterday and she completely ignored me this morning. I have to get her to talk to me”.

“A good ol’ lovers quarrel, I see,” Rae chuckled.

Paige shook her head at the comment before Rae asked. “Is that why you chose that song to play the piano on?”

A small upward curve formed on Paige’s lips. “Yeah”

Rae pursed her lips. “This feels like a romcom, for real.”

Paige laughed, a small sound of embarrassment escaped her lips. “I wanna finish learning it. I wanna show her. Maybe get a laugh out of her when she sees me mess it up”

“Well, if you can learn quick enough, we won’t have to do more lessons and I won’t have to feel like a homewrecker,” Rae got up, taking a seat on the piano stool waiting for Paige.

—

The blonde seeked an opportunity after lunch again, tugging on Azzi’s wrist before she could leave for fifth period. They stood just by the fridge, Paige waiting for everyone to leave the teacher’s lounge so they could be left alone.

“Azzi, you got a minute?” the blonde let go of her hand. “I’ve been trying to reach out. What’s going on?”

Paige inched closer, trying to ease her way into getting Azzi to talk, get an answer she’s been dying to know. But Azzi stepped back, catching Paige off guard. She could see Azzi’s eyes scan the space behind her, thinking. Then her face grimaced before lowering her head to hide it.

“You enjoyed your weekend?” she asked suddenly.

“Sure…could’ve been better with you,” Paige admitted, a softer tone in her voice.

But Azzi was not buying it. She’s experienced a similar scene before, the outcome not exactly something she wanted to remember.

“I-I have to get back to class,” she croaked before turning her heel and speed walking out the door.

Paige was left alone in the teacher’s lounge, frustrated yet again thinking about Azzi’s recent deflections.

—

It was another school day on a Wednesday and Paige felt like the world was punishing her.

After two days between empty text responses and Azzi purposely dodging any encounter with Paige at school, the blonde was in a hopeless state. She was teaching her gym class in a different head space, forgetting to blow the whistle after the high schoolers had finished their reps with jumping jacks.

“Ms. Bueckers, you need to blow your whistle!” a young voice yelled, the rest of the students groaning.

“Sorry, guys! Alright, everyone let’s line up for a warm up jog!”

“Coach B, we did that already, remember?” a short girl at the front put her hands on her hips as if stating the obvious.

“Right, um, what is it we haven’t done yet, Stella?” Paige tried to ask nonchalantly, not admitting to losing her focus

“We’re supposed to start dodgeball,” the young girl reminded sternly.

Paige nodded with pride. “That’s correct! See, I was just testing you.”

As Stella shook her head in disappointment.

While the kids were busy playing, a student had walked up to Paige after being eliminated.

“‘Sup, Ms. B,” a familiar voice grabbed Paige’s attention.

“Look who it is. Mr. Simp,” Paige teased.

“Haven’t seen you around art class lately. And you look down. Your love life alright?” Michael teased back.

Paige shook her head. “I’m not discussing my business with you, boy”

“C’mon, you’re no fun when you’re sad. Same goes to Ms. Fudd,” the boy replied.

“W-what, she say anything?” Paige grew curious.

“Why don’t you ask her?” the high schooler raised one brow.

“Sure, if you can get her to talk to me fourth period on Friday,” Paige joked sarcastically.

“Alright, bet,” Michael nodded, to which Paige shook her head, not taking him seriously

—

Azzi’s middle school art class was peaceful as usual, the sound of sketching pencils scratching the papers. Leo’s quaint voice called for the teacher in the corner.

“Ms. Fudd, can you help me with this?”

”Mm-hm,” a soulless reaction from Azzi, getting up from her seat to approach the young boy.

“How do you draw the hands like this?” Leo asked while showing his drawing.

The older woman took his pencil and started drawing on the paper. “You got the proportions all wrong, Leo. Make this base shape longer and the fingers shorter, just like this”.

The monotone voice, the absence of an initial positive feedback, and the lack of getting the student involved made Leo worried. It was all uncharacteristic of Azzi’s style of teaching. And the student has noticed it since the beginning of the week.

“Ms. Fudd. Are you alright?” Leo asked. Azzi got taken aback by the question.

“Of course, Leo,” she chuckled, however the young boy wasn’t convinced.

“I haven’t seen Ms. Bueckers around. She do something to you?" The usual bluntless of her student made Azzi half smile.

“Don’t worry about us, Leo,” the woman shook her head.

“I can talk to her for you, if you want,” the boy looked determined.

Azzi lightly laughed. “You have a good head on your shoulders, Leo. But I’ll talk to her…when I’m ready”.

The woman mumbled the last sentence, intelligible enough for Leo to hear.

As the bell rang for lunch and the students started shuffling out of art class, Leo was making his way out before someone tapped his shoulder.

“‘Sup, Leo!”

The younger boy was greeted by a familiar high school student. “Hey, Michael”.

After dapping each other up, Michael was quick to the point.

“Listen, something’s going on between Ms. Fudd and Coach B and it’s just not the same teasing them anymore. So, I’ll be a good person for once and help them out a little. Coach said she can’t get Ms. Fudd to talk to her, so we need to get them to talk. You in?”

“I’m in. Ms. Fudd looks a bit down these day, I don’t like seeing her like that. But Ms. Fudd said she won’t talk to Ms. Bueckers until she’s ready”

“At this rate, they won’t talk at all. C’mon, let’s do it before the week ends. Got any ideas?”

As the pair pondered for a while, Leo twitched his head.

“Maybe get them to a room? A classroom would be difficult,” Leo started off.

“Yeah, yeah. Maybe the janitor’s closet?” Michael thought.

“Too dirty”

“Yeah. Oh, I know, how about the school clinic?”

“You think you can get Nurse Williams to leave?” Leo wondered.

“Li’l Leo, I can get Nurse William to be in on it,” Michael smiled proudly.

Leo shook his head. “Alright, but then how do we get them to come to the clinic at the same time?”

“Easy. Find the day they have both have free periods”

“Ms. Fudd’s only free period is fourth period every Friday. Sometimes she helps me draw on those days”

“Bruh, is this a coincidence? That’s exactly the period I need!”

—

Friday, fourth period

Azzi stood in front a section of the colourful boards of her classroom, replacing the sheets of drawings to newer ones for the new lesson on Pointillism. After sticking the last drawing on, a loud voice erupted from the doorway.

“Ms. Fudd! Leo’s nose started bleeding in math class, he’s in the clinic right now and Nurse Williams said she needs your help!“ Michael panted, his acting spectacular.

Azzi instantly grew worried, making her way out the class and slightly jogging to the clinic nearby.

Meanwhile, at the gym, Paige was busy playing basketball by herself when Leo came bursting through the door.

“Ms. Bueckers! Michael got into a fight in the toilets, he got hurt real bad. Nurse Williams said to come get you!”

Paige threw the basketball away, immediately running out the gym to where the school clinic was.

As the two women saw each other approached the school clinic, they slowed their pace until they were just near enough to talk.

“Michael got into a fi-“

“Leo’s nose started blee-“

They both paused, confused at what the other said before their eyes turned to the closed clinic door beside them. Paige turned to face it, extending her arm to reach the door handle before turning it open.

The clinic was empty except for the bed on the side of the wall that was closed off by the white curtains, indicating that someone might be behind it. As Azzi followed Paige inside, her hands immediately went to the curtains to slide it away, revealing an empty bed.

Before they had time to process, they heard the clinic door shut behind them, the sound of a lock following right after, the pair sensing they were now trapped inside. They heard a couple of youthful giggles and saw shadows of feet emitting from the door’s small open space below.

The two women turned to each other, no words coming out of their mouth at first, except for their breathless panting.

“Michael’s so gonna get it when I see him,” Paige muttered under her breath before taking a seat on the bed.

Azzi just stood there, fiddling with her fingers with her head low.

“Azzi. Sit”

The two words surprised the younger woman. She stared at Paige for a moment before reluctantly taking a seat beside Paige on the bed. It was quiet for a while. The blonde hunched over staring at the ground, her hands clasped together as her arms rested on her lap, just thinking, not knowing what to say first. The brunette was still fiddling with her fingers, also unsure if she should start.

“I miss you,” the blonde spoke up, eyes glued to the ground. Azzi shifted in her seat, her emotions mixed.

“Why have you been ignoring me?” Paige continued, hurt in her tone.

“I”m sorry,” Azzi whispered, her guilt creeping up.

“I’m gonna need more than that,” Paige brought herself to sit up straight, now turning to face Azzi. She could see her eyes slightly watery, biting her lower lips to contain her sadness.

“Paige, I’m sorry for ignoring you. I just…” the brunette paused, trying to formulate a better answer before sounding too distraught. But Paige didn’t have the patience anymore.

“Azzi, no. If you’re just gonna shut me out and leave me in the dark, I at least deserve an explanation right n-“

“If you wanna see other people, I have to be fine with that,” Azzi added, her voice gloomy.

“I- what?”

“Look, if you wanna start seeing Rae, then I don’t wanna be the one to hold you back”

Paige shifted her body closer. “Azzi, there’s nothing going on between me and Rae”.

“Yeah, I thought so at first,” Azzi said soullessly. ”Even after knowing you were getting piano lessons from her. But I still had my doubts. Then the video of you and Rae at Bar Lobo-“

“What video?”

“The video KK sent on the group chat. I saw Rae wrap her arms around you. Y’all were probably making out with each other for all I care”

A pang of guilt hit Paige’s chest. “I never saw the video. I didn’t really read the group chat after that night. But, Azzi, you’re getting it twisted-“

“Don’t tell me I’m getting it twisted when you still talked to her on Monday after assembly,” Azzi took shallow breaths, lowering her head.

Paige just stared at her before taking a deep breath.

“Azzi, you told Rae I wasn’t seeing anyone else. Ever thought about asking me about my own feelings?” Paige started off. Azzi’s breath hitched, her face even more regretful.

“But I’m not entirely wrong,” Azzi trailed, still fiddling with her fingers. Paige bit her inner cheeks before reaching out to grab Azzi’s hands, caressing it as if to console her.

“Well, you are. We never made out at Bar Lobo. Honestly, I was caught off guard myself when she wrapped her arms around me, but I stopped her before she could do anything else. And she apologised for that. Then that Monday morning, I asked if we could talk because I knew she felt bad. She’s still our colleague at Moore, I didn’t want to burn bridges over some miscommunication. I told her, Azzi. I told her I was seeing you”

Azzi’s head lifted, her watery eyes scanning Paige’s face. “You did?”

“Yeah,” Paige gave her a small smile. “And the piano lessons. At first I thought it was just for fun, but then I got inspired. By you”

Azzi’s head tilted in confusion as she watched Paige fetch for her phone. She opened her gallery to show a video of herself in the empty music room sitting by the piano.

“Okay, Azzi, don’t make fun of me if I mess this up, but this is dedicated to you.”

The video proceeded to show Paige nervously pressing every key, the familiar melody in the same slow tempo. Azzi let out a small laugh whenever Paige’s face winced every time she hit the wrong key, a strong feeling of endearment felt through her body.

When the video ended, Paige returned her phone to her pocket before giving Azzi an anticipative stare.

“I’ve never been digitally serenaded like that before,” she smiled weakly.

Paige gave a small shrug. “A special serenade for a special girl”

“I love it…but I’ll have to give it a seven out of ten. You hit the wrong keys way too many times,” Azzi joked with a weak voice.

Paige lazily laughed before leaning forward, touching their heads together as they laughed together, her hands still holding onto Azzi’s.

“I only have eyes for you, Azzi,” Paige breathed out, eyes closed.

The younger woman was left breathless.

“Me too… Sorry, I got insecure. It’s just…something coming back to haunt me,” Azzi trailed off, but Paige squeezed her hands.

“We can talk about it after school, if it’ll give you peace of mind. Come home, I wanna cook you something,” Paige consoled, retracting her head back to fully face the younger woman.

“I’d like that,” was all Azzi could say before her eyes darted down to Paige’s lips.

It wasn’t hard for Paige to notice before she leaned in, connecting their lips.

It’s been a while since the pair shared a kiss that they yearned so long for. They scooted closer to each other, making it easier for Paige to wrap her arms around Azzi’s lower back. The brunette hummed into the kiss, the softness of Paige’s lips devouring her own, feeling like home. Her hand gripped Paige’s jaw with possession, pressing their mouths together so they could never part, not even for a moment.

After a whole week, how could they not miss each other?

But in the midst of their passionate makeout session, the bell rang for lunch, causing the pair to jolt. And then a knock from the door followed after.

The pair pulled away, scrambling as they pretended to dust something off their clothes before yelling “Come in” towards the door.

“I didn’t cockblock this time, huh,” Kayla peeked her head in, smiling proudly.

The trio laughed before making their way to the teacher’s lounge to join everyone at lunch.

—

Paige’s bedroom door remained locked as muffled sounds of moans and pants barely escaped the room.

Dinner had been eaten an hour ago. They were cuddled up on the common sofa where Azzi was curled up next to Paige, who had her arms wrapped around the younger woman, holding her close. Between the idea of being alone in Paige’s apartment and the neediness for each other’s touch, one thing led to another, and now locked they’ve themselves away from the rest of the world.

“Fuck, Azzi,” Paige moaned as the curly brunette grinded her clit against hers, hovering over Paige as she struggled to keep her grip on Azzi’s waist. She continued moving her hips in a circular motion, causing more air to escape Paige’s mouth. Then Azzi leaned in to kiss her, almost sloppily and swallowing her breaths.

“I need you bad,” Paige whimpered when Azzi traveled her lips to Paige’s neck, leaving a new hickey and sucking on the previous ones.

“Mm, patience,” Azzi sighed on her neck before traveling down Paige’s long torso, giving light kisses on the way.

As soon as she reached Paige’s centre, the blonde gripped Azzi’s head, lifting her hips, so that Azzi’s mouth came in contact. But the curly brunette gently held her waist and lowered it down, trying to get Paige to relax. Then almost immediately, Azzi dipped her mouth into her entrance, her tongue playing around the folds.

“Mmm, just like that,” Paige moaned, the vulnerability in her voice turning Azzi on.

Azzi quickened the pace of her tongue, the erratic movements and wet sounds making Paige shiver. The blonde still had her hands on Azzi’s head, caressing her hair with her thumb, the younger woman feeling more encouraged. Then Azzi slowly inserted two fingers, thrusting it in a semi-fast tempo before enveloping Paige’s entire clit in her mouth at the same time.

The sensation made Paige jerk her hips up, instantly arching her head back into the pillow as she could feel herself climax.

“Azzi, I’m gonna,” she voiced tightly, her hands gripping her head harder.

“Look at me,” Azzi demanded, lifting herself to hover halfway over Paige so she could see her.

Azzi quickened her fingers into her, the sound of Paige’s entrance getting more and more wet. The blonde was struggling to keep her stare on Azzi, her moans starting to get shorter and frequent. Within seconds, Paige reached her climax, a stretched out moan escaping her lips as she came all over Azzi’s hand.

After Paige had relaxed, she had her eyes slightly closed and her eyebrows furrowed. She was recovering with laboured breaths, the sight almost sexy to Azzi. The brunette licked her fingers to taste Paige before straddling her waist again, dipping her head to leave soft kisses on her chest and neck.

The blonde just rested her hands on Azzi’s lower back, enjoying the sensation of her warm mouth on her. Then Azzi shifted so she could lay back on the bed, settling beside Paige and wrapping her hand around her waist.

Paige sighed, rubbing Azzi’s arm while looking at her with hooded eyes.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispered.

Azzi only smiled, her eyes gleaming. Then a soft expression of guilt washed across.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to ignore you for that long," she croaked. Paige just continued rubbing her arm whispering ‘it's okay’.

Azzi continued. “Seeing you with someone else. I was scared of going back to my insecure self…when I was with my ex.”

Azzi was hesitant to talk, biting her lip as she let her thoughts run. But Paige lightly wiped her cheek with her finger, to grab her attention.

“Talk to me. I’ll listen," with a soft smile, she reassured.

Azzi sighed. "Her name was Destiny, quite ironic, isn't it?”

A small air escaped through Paige’ nose.

“We were childhood best friends, did a lot together; same school, sleepovers, family dinners. We had similar personalities, the quiet kids in the back. But she definitely changed in high school, started becoming more outgoing, made lots of friends. I struggled on that front, but she still kept me close. In tenth grade was when our relationship began to blur, we started developing feelings for each other, subtle flirting but didn’t do anything more”

Azzi sighed again, thinking of how to say the next bit.

"When she decided to go to UConn for Computer Engineering, she had to convince me to join her. It wasn't even my top college. I actually wanted to go to Rhode Island, they’ve got the best design institute over there… But remember when I told you before that my feelings for her were just mere infatuation? I’ll admit that I was, in fact, in love, at the time. So, I did it. I followed her because I loved her”

Paige just made subtle nods while listening.

"College life. What can I say? Stereotypical as it can get. First year was alright, assignments were doable for me, a bit demanding for her. But we did make a good group of friends; most from hers, some from mine, even met Car through book club. And then there was Amanda, or Mandy, as we called her. She was Des’ classmate, a girl with conviction, spoke with confidence. Polar opposite to me. They studied a lot together, hung out when I was busy. They were getting close, almost too close to my liking. So, I started getting scared. The more weeks passed, the more I felt my chances with Des were disappearing.”

Azzi shook her head now, remembering the next part of her story.

“There was this house party over summer break, some senior of Des. All of us went. And there were so many people, everyone was drunk, I think I went a li’l too ham on the alcohol, too. And then I caught them sitting on the sofa, just chatting, a little touchy, a little flirty. Seeing them together made me feel so upset at myself for pussy’ing out. I dunno what got into me, but I shoved myself onto Des… And I started making out with her.”

Paige raised her brows surprised, Azzi scrunched her nose in disgust.

"Yeah, not my proudest moment. Des was shocked, at first; not expecting this side from me, I didn’t either. But she said she’d been waiting for us to date for a while. And, so, I got the outcome I wanted then. Our first two years together, it was sweet. We did a lot for each other; gifts, dates, you name it. We talked a lot about our future together, too, having a family, buying a house, all that stuff. We invested a lot into our relationship, it was going so good. But at the background of it all was Mandy. Des still kept her close. And I couldn’t say anything, I didn’t want Des to think I was too possessive. I was worried my insecurity would put her off”.

Paige furrowed her brows, subtly shaking her head as if to say Azzi’s feelings were valid.

“Our third year was…something. We were getting a little distant. Des got tied with her assignments, her coursework got more difficult. I had to brush off the fact that day in and day out, Mandy and her were always at the library studying together. I’d even drop by every so often at Des’ dorm to keep her company. Until one day she said not to visit, saying it’ll be too much of a hassle for me. I reassured her it wasn’t, but she was insistent, promised she’ll make time for me, even hang out after studying. Well…I didn’t know her definition of ‘hanging out’ was just sex at my dorm every time she was frustrated. Regardless, I still enjoyed any type of company with her. And we still went out on dates, so she did keep her promise.”

Azzi went silent for a bit to gather herself.

“Then it started getting dry, our dates lacklustre. I had to give her the benefit of the doubt, I knew her major was a difficult one. So, one day I decided to keep her company at her dorm again, even brought her favourite snacks and everything. But when she opened her door, she had this shocked look on her face. When I looked inside, Mandy was there. Nothing out of the ordinary, though, she was sitting on the floor busy with her books. Des reasoned with me that she was there to study, but I was confused…that’s when I started overthinking. Study in a cramped up dorm room? When the library was open 24/7? Is this why she told me not to visit anymore? Things were starting to click for me.”

Paige clenched her jaw, almost knowing what would come next.

“I pondered it for weeks. But between our dry conversations and soulless sex, I finally had the courage to confront Des about it when she came to my room for another ‘hang out’. She told me I was ridiculous, that my judgement was clouded. She said Mandy was just a friend and nothing more, but I wasn’t convinced. I told her to stop hanging out with her if she loved me that much, cared about my feelings. Then, all of a sudden, she got defensive; saying I don’t trust her, that I was too insecure…and have always been. That hurt the most. She knew I wasn’t the most confident person growing up, she knew how much I struggled to overcome that, too. We fought that day, I didn’t talk to her for weeks. But then she came back, showed up with flowers at my dorm saying she’ll spend more time with me and that she’ll stop hanging out with Mandy, I figured she felt bad. So, of course, I forgave her. I was still upset, but I still wanted to trust her. I wanted to overcome that little voice in my head.”

Azzi paused to give Paige a small smile. “You hanging in there?”

Paige chuckled lightly. “Yeah, don’t worry”.

“We’re getting to that part now,” Azzi said before a long sigh.

“For another year, it was the same story. She continued to leave me in the dark without realising, I pretended to be happy. There was no more romantic talk, no more sweet gestures from her. When I’d get upset, she’d continue to gaslight me, saying it’s her major, saying that my insecurities are getting the best of me again and that I needed to trust her. Then to make it up to me, we’d have sex. And it kept happening again, like a vicious cycle. I was beginning to feel so useless. One day, Des made dinner plans for our fourth year anniversary. Of course, I was really excited about it. But when time came ‘round, she wasn’t responsive on text, calling didn’t work either. So, I went to her dorm. Knocked on it, no response…then I heard something through the door. Someone moaning her name. I froze at first. I didn’t want it to be true, but I had to see it for myself”

Paige lifted her hand to caress Azzi’s cheek, giving her a touch of support.

“And there they were. Having sex, on her bed. Books and papers scattered. Apparently, they had been seeing each other since the start of our third year together. I knew I wasn’t being delusional, but I…I just felt more ashamed of myself. I kept asking myself why did I believe I could still trust her all this time? So I just left. She texted me saying it was a mistake, then blabbered on about how Mandy was ‘different’. It was all bullshit. She’d throw all those years down the drain to be with someone who was… a projection of who she wanted to be, maybe someone who was a better version of myself. Because I knew I wasn’t good enough for her, no matter how hard I tried to change. So, I cut her off. She moved to Australia after graduation and I couldn’t care less what happened after. So… there you go.”

It was quiet for a moment. Azzi shifted to have Paige on her hold more properly, staring at her with full attention.

“Honestly, it’s not so much what Des did, but more so what I became when we were dating. I lost my trust in a lot of people since then, it was hard overcoming my low self-esteem and it felt like I had to start all over again. Caroline’s the only one who kept me grounded all those years. She never liked Des from the beginning, kept telling me to leave her. But I never listened.”

Paige gave a half smile. “I…I understand what that’s like. Healing isn’t linear, there’ll always be lapses, but I’m proud of you for working on yourself since then. I’ve never met a person more confident in themselves. You know your worth, Az”.

Azzi hummed, lost in Paige’s blue orbs.

“Thanks…that means a lot. Paige, I…I didn’t think I’d share this part of my life so early on, but…I felt I had to”.

Paige shook her head. “Only if it felt right to you”.

“Yeah, it did. That’s, um, that’s why I wanted to ask you something,” Azzi nibbled on her bottom lips just subtly.

“Sure,” Paige whispered.

“It’s been almost two years and I want to try dating again. Ever since meeting you, you’ve changed my perception on everything I knew about trusting people, loving oneself, caring for others. I guess, all I wanted to ask was…will you be my girlfriend?”

Paige sharply inhaled. She couldn’t think of anything initially. The moment she heard the word ‘girlfriend’, it was like she had been electrocuted. It had been a while for her, too. She’d almost forgotten what it was like to give so much love and commitment to someone. The prospect of that seemed daunting to her, what if things go wrong again? How badly will she take the blame on herself? Just like before, Paige thought.

But one thing was for certain. Azzi made doing that all so easy, so natural. And Paige knew it well. Perhaps the blonde didn’t feel ready all this time because she didn’t meet anyone worth being ready for.

“Yeah. I want to,” Paige smiled, nodding slightly.

Azzi let out a deep breath nervously, almost relieved. “Okay…yeah, okay”.

Paige laughed before rubbing her back. “Happy you’re gonna get full access to me now?”

“Why do you have to say it like that and ruin the moment?” Azzi groaned into her neck.

“It’s not entirely false, though,” Paige pulled herself away so she could get Azzi to look at her.

“Yeah, whatever,” Azzi replied, defeated.

Then Paige grabbed her cheek and leaned forward, giving Azzi a soft peck.

“We’ll take it day by day,” Paige reassured.

This time Azzi gave her a small peck. “I appreciate that”.

They kept each other close as the night was beginning to end, settling in the warmth of their naked bodies. But between heartbeats and soft breaths, their minds raced in the darkness. There was fear as much as there was excitement for what’s to come tomorrow.

#pazzi #pazzi fics #paige x azzi #azzi fudd #paige bueckers

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luvrbot404 · 11 months ago

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humming the song he married us to im sobbing

His pretty girl -Vladimir Makarov

Based on a request:

I looved ur makarov fic n im here to request smth else w him, there's barely anything w him its sad How would makarov treat his dear wife when she's sick? I'm kinda sick rn so.. : 3 ---- F!Reader, wife!reader, husband!Makarov, nothing but fluff ----

A/N: short but good…I hope…

Vladimir was gone for some weeks. He couldn't come in contact with you so when you didn't show up to greet him he was worried. The drive home was usually calm but this time, he rushed it. Avoided all cars and soon, ran inside. The image he saw before his eyes, oh did it melt him. You were curled on the couch. The blanket slowly falls off your body. Used tissues all over the coffee table and floor. The tea was cold and your soft breathing gave him even more reason to clean the area as quietly as possible. Your shared bedroom was cleaned, all dishes washed and then he carried you to bed. The medication you took to sleep was so strong you didn't know he even carried you to bed. That entire night, he checked your temperature, kissed your forehead and held you against his chest.

When you got sick, the first time, he panicked, called a doctor and yelled at him when he said that all you needed to do was drink tea and take it easy. Now, knowing his pretty little wife too well, he knows all he needs to do. 8 am, have breakfast ready, with tea on the side and orange juice just in case you want that one more and it must be room temperature, not cold. He must put on some video as you eat because you like to catch up on some show as you eat. You like wearing his shirts more because you swear it makes you feel better, which is bullshit because he knows you like to just have a reason to wear his clothes.

He must wash all dishes, not complain about being tired because how dare he. Makarov knows this well mainly because it worked the first 4 times and this time it is the same. After breakfast, washing dishes, he has to take you on a walk, the air, the way you smile, oh he knows the fresh air helps that stuff nose and he also gets even more private time with you.

Lunch for a day or two is chicken soup, his grandmothers since he knows you loved it any time you were sick. Kisses on your forehead all day is a must, you know that. If you groan and push him away, he gives you a little frown and moves closer. "You know kisses are a part of the remedy, my pretty girl." He grins when you give him your lazy smile. Your face is hot from both the fever and from his lips. Once he and you eat lunch, he cleans the home and don't you dare walk to the bedroom, he has made it clear he needs to clean and sanitise the bed.

If he has a meeting, he doesn't go to it, it's over the phone as he is in bed and has you cuddled to him. You can't argue against it. Your husband must give cuddles while on the phone. It's a rule at this point.

At night, he makes dinner, makes sure it all tastes wonderful and then feeds it to you since wrapping you in a burrito can't let your hands move. It's a funny but cute image. You, sat on the couch, blanket wrapped around you which makes you look like a cute little bug as your husband feeds you dinner. Oh, the frowns and pouts you give to his giggle and laughter won't help, he just adores you this way.

After dinner, more cuddles and kisses come by. He calls it 'kiss the sick away.' When you lean on him he knows this is to sleep but he can't allow over 3 naps per day when you're sick. So, he carries you to the bathroom. Gives you your medicine, and takes the blankets, clothes and anything in between off you. The bath was set to a very comfortable temperature.

He undresses too and once he has both of you in the bath, he kisses your shoulders. Your warm back on his chest as he cleans your body with so much gentleness it has you leaning on him and smiling. "That's what you needed huh, pretty girl," he kisses your wet shoulder again and wraps his arms around you. You kiss his bicep and he chuckles. "Don't start, my love," he whispers. The lights dimmed, him and you…this is the perfect way to get better. He hums a song, the same one he married you to and the same one he hums when he is far from home.

"I love you, pretty girl," he whispers and kisses the nape of your neck. "I love you more," you whisper back. "We both know who wins this, so do you want to start this game?" He kisses your neck again and chuckles. In moments like this, in which the world is kind and calm, he appreciates life like any normal person would. "You always win, i want to win this time." You pout and know damn well he can't say no to his pretty wife. "Fine, you win this time but we both know I have a long winning streak in this game." He grabs your hand and kisses it. In his head, he already won. And in this life, he truly did.

A/N: Makarov and Ghost are the kind of man to give me a Hozier song kind of vibe and that is what feeds my fluff brain

Tags:

@makarovsbbg @sans-chara @selarus @liyanahelena @hilmiponken @personwhosucksassatmath @undercover-smutlover @ontopofyourceiling @kielsegur @johfamm0 @goldenmclaren @moonsua1 @rivivienner @saoirse06 @vampsquerade @alxexhearts @baldwinhearts @strangepuppynightmare

#cod x reader #vladimir makarov fluff #vladimir makarov x reader #no one writes makarov being a sweetie for us!!! thank you for your service #rae needs comfort

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invincibledc · 2 months ago

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˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐈𝐍!𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

➣being some dead teen a scientist wanted to experiment on you, is some bullshit. Like no, literally, dug up your body, being so mad disrespectful. And turns out you have electric powers and the power to take part off your body and reattach them. And now you are on the teen team, or whatever this team is called as you just keep messing with these bolts on your neck. It helps with your electric measurement, although you know you shouldn’t use it much to hurt someone. It’s funny to shock Rex a few times, it’s hilarious.

➣ and then there’s mark, eve, and those other extras you don’t really care about. Well, you care about Rae cause she’s hella cool! But obviously the most people that are suddenly all over you is mark and Eve. You’re literally some dead guy brought back to alive as if you are Frankenstein’s son, and these two people wanna be all over you like cats to catnip. Eve always wants to make you comfortable in some ways, and mark just oddly knows your every location. It’s weird and annoying. Plus, you don’t need no fuck ass “heroes” to try and make you feel at “home”. Your real home is [home place] not Chicago. Not this place.

Not here. And not ever.

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nfr-girly · 11 months ago

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in Italy with Hasan 🇮🇹 ☀️ ||

————————————————————————

-the way over there would DEFINITELY be chaos. You two would go with QT, will, Austin, and rae. Austin and Hasan would argue about timings, while the rest of you just chill

-best believe you’ll be putting your head on Hasans chest as you’re all waiting in line at the airport, you’ve barely slept, so Hasan naturally feels bad for making sure you all got up early

-when you do finally get on the flight, Hasan makes sure you have everything you need to be comfortable, blanket, plenty of pillows (although realistically his shoulder will be your pillow), earphones, etc. mans doesn’t even care if he’s uncomfortable the whole flight, only worries about his girl <3

-when you finally get to Italy the airport is stacked with people, hasans hand on your back as you all try to navigate through crowds, while admiring the views. The moment you get to the hotel you and Hasan are cuddled up ready to sleep

-your time in Italy would be SO adorable, you’d visit as much places as you could go and Hasan would just treat you like a princess the entire holiday. You want some ice cream? Hasan will get it. You want some new makeup? Hasan will get it. You want some new clothes? Hasan. Will. Get. It. He physically can’t say no to you.

-you two would be super close to each other too, just physical contact 24/7, to the point where Austin and will would make gagging noises to call you out (they love you two really) 🫶

-you would take so many pictures of him and just find it so unbelievable how handsome he is, the man is so photogenic it hurts. He’s absolutely taking pictures of you though, doesn’t matter where you are he will take a pic. You could be sleeping, mouth wide open with your hands all over the place and he’ll still think you’re the most gorgeous thing. 😭🤍

-you two just enjoying this perfect little life of yours you’ve built together, all while Hasan keeps on playing with the ring box in his pocket, trying to find the right moment to pop the question 🫶💗

————————————————————————

#hasan imagine #hasanabi x reader #hasan x reader #hasan piker x reader #hasanabi #hasan piker #Hasanabi x yn #Hasan x you #Hasan piker x you #Fear&

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iguessitsjustme · 1 year ago

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Time for Best Behavior Day 2: Electric Blazer Boogaloo

#rae irl #rae at work #actually a very yellow day for me #my bag is yellow and so is my blazer #this one is much more comfortable than my blazer yesterday #now i just need it to not be raining

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honeydippedfiction · 4 days ago

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What was Joe's reaction when Angel got her yiddies pierced? I just know he was sad he had to wait until they were healed to mess with them.

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Synopsis: Four months of teasing, temptation, and self-restraint come to a head when Joe is finally allowed to touch what he’s been dreaming about since Angel’s bold girls’ night dare. The wait is over—but what follows is far more intense, intimate, and unforgettable than either of them imagined.

Warnings: Sexual content / sensuality (Includes descriptions of physical intimacy, breast/nipple play, and body piercings in a sexual context), Body modification (nipple piercings), Mature themes, Substance mention (mild)

WC: 10.3k

A/N: Angel girlll there's a Joe behind you. Again don’t get tattoos or piercings under the influence

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• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

Based from this ask!

The apartment was drenched in a soft amber glow from the string lights Monica had tacked along the ceiling earlier that afternoon, casting a golden warmth over everything it touched. The floor was littered with pillows, cozy blankets, and the aftermath of a chaotic but joyful girls' night—half-eaten popcorn, empty pints of Ben & Jerry’s, half-full wine glasses with lipstick stains, and open boxes of candy strewn across the rug like party confetti. The soft bass of a 2000s R&B playlist thumped low in the background, blending seamlessly with the occasional burst of laughter and the faint scent of lavender incense curling through the air.

Angel sat cross-legged on the plush rug in a pair of fuzzy socks and one of Joe’s oversized LSU sweatshirts, cheeks warm from both the wine and the weed, her curls piled into a messy bun that had definitely seen better days. Monica was sprawled next to her, legs kicked over the arm of the couch, her phone in one hand and a wine glass in the other. Two other girls, Kelsey and Rae, were slouched comfortably nearby, already deep in giggle fits over something that had just happened during a round of dirty charades.

They’d been playing for over an hour now—everything from “Never Have I Ever” to a messy round of “Most Likely To”—and the combination of weed, Moscato, and sisterhood had turned the night into the kind of spontaneous, slightly reckless memory that stuck around long after the buzz faded.

Monica took a slow sip of wine, her eyes flicking to Angel with that familiar glint—the one that always meant trouble. “Okay,” she said, voice sweet but unmistakably wicked, “Truth or dare, Angel.”

Angel blinked, then grinned, already leaning into the playful chaos. “You really wanna do this?”

Monica raised her eyebrows, daring her. “Don’t punk out now.”

Angel glanced around the room, then lifted her wine glass like a challenge. “Dare.”

That was all Monica needed.

A slow, devilish smile unfurled across her lips. “I dare you,” she said, pausing just long enough to draw the tension like a rubber band, “to get your nipples pierced.”

The room exploded into gasps, squeals, and overlapping laughter.

“Bitch, what?” Rae cackled, nearly choking on her gummy bears.

“Girl, are you possessed?” Kelsey cried, her eyes wide, hand slapped dramatically over her chest.

Angel’s jaw dropped. “You’re lying.”

Monica just sipped her wine and raised a brow, unmoved. “Dead serious.”

Angel’s hand flew to her chest, instinctively covering herself through the sweatshirt. “You’ve officially lost your damn mind.”

“I mean, unless you wanna forfeit and take the die shot,” Monica sing-songed, already reaching for the chaotic mix of Fireball, tequila, and rum they’d deemed the “bitch shot of shame.”

Angel hesitated. For a second, the idea sounded completely unhinged—piercing her nipples on a random girls’ night while Joe was probably asleep in his apartment, blissfully unaware that his semi-girlfriend was even considering it. But the more she thought about it—Monica’s challenge, the alcohol buzzing in her veins, the comfortable circle of laughter and warmth—the more the dare started to feel like a story she didn’t want to miss out on.

She took another sip of wine. Then stood.

The room went silent.

Angel swayed slightly on her feet and grinned. “Let’s do it.”

“Wait—what?” Kelsey blinked.

“You serious?” Rae gasped.

Monica jumped up like she’d won the lottery. “Oh, we’re really doing this. Y’all heard her! No backing out now!”

Within minutes, the wine was packed in to-go cups, keys were found, and shoes were half-stumbled into as Monica dragged Angel out the door with Rae and Kelsey still trying to process what had just happened.

“This is what happens when I let y’all mix Barefoot wine and weed,” Angel muttered, climbing into the front seat of Monica’s car.

“This is what happens when you hang out with me,” Monica shot back, beaming as she started the engine. “You get memories, baby. You’re welcome.”

Σ>―💛→

The piercing studio was tucked between a vape shop and a 24-hour taco joint, its blacked-out windows and neon "OPEN" sign the only indication it was still running at this hour. Inside, the vibe was unexpectedly serene—more like a boutique spa than the chaotic, grungy place Angel had imagined. Soft ambient music played low through the speakers, and the walls were lined with sleek display cases showcasing everything from delicate gold hoops to edgy titanium barbells. The air smelled faintly sterile, tinged with disinfectant and a hint of lavender, likely from the piercer’s diffuser sitting on the front desk.

Angel sat nervously in the back room, perched on a padded black recliner that reminded her way too much of a dentist’s chair. Her knees bounced lightly as she fidgeted with the hem of the cropped cami she’d been given to change into, her usual confidence dulled slightly now that the wine was wearing off and the reality of what she was doing settled into her bones.

“You good?” Monica asked from her seat in the corner, phone in one hand, smirk in full bloom on her face. She was far too comfortable, like this was a casual Tuesday night instead of what it actually was: her best friend willingly letting someone shove a needle through her chest for the thrill of it.

“I don’t know,” Angel admitted, glancing down at the tray of glinting metal the piercer had laid out. “I feel like I’m about to do something real stupid.”

Monica grinned. “That’s how you know it’s gonna be worth it.”

The piercer walked back into the room, gloves already on and a calm, measured energy about him that immediately helped. He was a tall, broad man with sleeves of colorful ink and a voice so even it felt like white noise.

“All right, Angel,” he said, pulling up a stool beside her. “You still sure you want to go through with it?”

Angel took a slow breath and nodded, trying to match his cool energy. “Let’s do it before I change my mind.”

He smiled slightly. “Okay. I’m going to clean and mark you first. Then we’ll go one at a time. It’ll sting, but it’s quick. Deep breath in, deep breath out. You’ve got this.”

Angel leaned back as he got to work, trying to focus on anything but the growing nerves tightening in her belly. Monica caught her eye from across the room and lifted her phone with a wink. “Smile for the ‘before’ pic.”

“Don’t you dare,” Angel whispered, grinning anyway despite her nerves.

The alcohol from earlier had faded just enough for the anxiety to creep in, but the adrenaline buzzing beneath her skin was louder. She wasn’t scared, exactly—more like electric. She didn’t do stuff like this. She was calculated, usually. Measured. But tonight? Tonight was about freedom. About a little reckless thrill. About doing something just for herself.

“Ready?” the piercer asked.

She nodded once, gripping the armrests.

“Okay. Deep breath in…”

She inhaled sharply.

“...and exhale.”

The needle went through.

Her gasp was immediate, her back arching just slightly off the recliner as the sharp, burning pinch sliced through her. It was fast—intense but fast. Her eyes fluttered shut and she let out a breathy, shaky laugh.

“Oh my God.”

“You’re doing great,” the piercer said, already prepping the second.

Monica leaned forward, wide-eyed. “You good? You alive?”

“Barely,” Angel wheezed, laughing again. “That was insane.”

“Second one coming now,” the piercer warned gently. “Same thing—deep breath in… and out.”

The second needle slid through a moment later, the pain just as sharp but easier now that she knew what to expect. She bit down on a breath, exhaled slow, and just like that—it was done.

The piercer gave her a moment to breathe before stepping back and handing her a mirror.

Angel sat up slowly, her body buzzing with endorphins, wine, and disbelief. She brought the mirror to her chest and stared, blinking once… then again.

“Oh… wow.”

Her nipples were now adorned with two dainty silver barbells, symmetrical, clean, and—dare she say it—sexy. She looked fierce. Feminine. Wild in the best kind of way.

“I can’t believe I just did that,” she whispered, almost in awe of herself.

Monica let out a loud, triumphant laugh. “Girl, you did that. You look bomb.”

Angel turned the mirror slightly, angling it to get a better view. “This was insane.”

“And you’re gonna thank me when Joe sees them,” Monica added, standing up and sliding her phone back into her bag. “Man is gonna combust.”

Angel rolled her eyes, still staring at her reflection. “He’s either gonna love them or have a heart attack.”

“Maybe both,” Monica said with a shrug. “Either way, it’s gonna be a show.”

The piercer finished wrapping up the aftercare instructions, handing Angel a small bag with saline spray and healing balm before giving her one last reassuring pat on the shoulder. “You did great. Just keep things clean, wear soft bras—if any at all—and no rough business for a few weeks.”

Angel made a face. “Define rough.”

Monica snorted. “She’s asking for a friend.”

The two burst out laughing as they made their way out of the studio, the chill of the night air brushing over Angel’s skin like a dare of its own. She tucked herself into Monica’s passenger seat, still buzzing.

Joe was absolutely not ready for what was coming.

Σ>―💛→

The kitchen was dimly lit, all soft yellow glow from the overhead bulbs and the blue flicker of the TV from the next room. The lingering scent of leftover chicken Alfredo clung to the air, mingling with the subtle spice of Joe’s cologne—warm, clean, and unmistakably him. He moved with the easy familiarity of someone at home in their space, barefoot and relaxed in a hoodie and mesh shorts, half-listening as Ja’Marr chirped in his ear through the phone tucked between shoulder and jaw.

He had one arm braced on the counter, the other reaching up lazily to open cabinet doors he didn’t seem all that interested in. Every now and then, he’d grunt or chuckle—low, deep sounds that made Angel’s head turn from where she lingered in the hallway, hidden just out of his line of sight.

“I’m just saying,” Ja’Marr’s voice floated out loud enough for her to catch, “you really think you got the footwork to beat me in the first ten yards? That’s real bold, bro.”

Joe let out a laugh, the sound like honeyed bourbon. “You forgetting who your quarterback is?”

Angel rolled her eyes fondly as she padded barefoot across the cold tile, dressed in nothing but boy shorts and one of Joe’s well-worn Ohio State tees that hung off her like a second skin. She’d been trying to catch his attention for the better part of ten minutes. A light kiss to the jaw when she walked in. A brush of fingers along his back. Even a dramatic sigh as she passed behind him to grab a slice of cold pizza. Nothing.

But Ja’Marr? That man said “what’s up” and had Joe’s full attention like they were playing for the national title tomorrow.

Angel moved toward him with quiet steps, hopping up onto the counter beside where he stood, legs swinging slightly. Joe didn’t even glance her way—just reached out like it was muscle memory and rested his palm on her bare thigh. His thumb began tracing slow, lazy circles against her skin, as natural as breathing, and Angel felt a little flutter low in her stomach despite herself.

“You’re crazy,” Ja’Marr was saying. “And slow.”

“I’m efficient,” Joe replied, popping open the fridge with one hand, still locked in.

Angel leaned back on her palms, watching him. He was unfairly beautiful like this—brow furrowed in concentration, mouth curved just a little at the corner, jaw flexing as he twisted the cap off a Gatorade. That little part of her, the petty one, sparked with heat. She didn’t mind Ja’Marr—not really—but tonight, she wanted Joe’s attention on her.

All of it.

“Joey,” she called sweetly, dragging out the vowels in that teasing voice she knew he loved.

Joe hummed, distracted, still half-facing the fridge. “Yeah, baby?”

When he turned, casual and unbothered, Angel pulled the oversized t-shirt up and off in one fluid motion, letting it fall behind her on the counter. She sat up straighter, chest bared, her fresh piercings catching the low kitchen light like twin sparks of silver fire.

Joe froze mid-step.

His gaze dropped instantly. The Gatorade slipped from his hand and bounced off the counter before rolling across the floor, forgotten. His mouth opened, then closed again, throat bobbing.

Angel tilted her head, pretending innocence. “You just gonna let Ja’Marr listen to you lose your mind, or…?”

Joe blinked. Then, without a word, reached over and hit the red button on his screen.

Call ended.

“Angel,” he breathed, voice strangled and reverent like she’d just done something holy. “What the hell, baby…”

She smirked, legs swinging a little. “Surprise.”

His steps toward her were slow but heavy, like he didn’t trust himself not to pounce. “When did you—? How long have you—?”

“Girls night,” she said casually, brushing her fingers through her curls. “Last weekend. Monica dared me.”

Joe’s eyes were everywhere, eating up every inch of skin, but they kept returning to the silver glinting through her nipples like magnets. He reached out, fingers trembling just slightly, like he was afraid they weren’t real. “Can I—?”

Angel caught his hand with a light slap. “Nope.”

Joe looked betrayed. “Why not?”

“They have to heal. Minimum four months before touching.” She gave him a little shrug. “Sorry, rules are rules.”

Joe looked down, then up again, then back down, jaw slack. “Four months?”

“Mmhmm.”

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling like she’d just told him he’d be benched for the season. “You gotta be kidding me. Four months?”

Angel bit her lip to keep from laughing. “You’ll survive.”

“I won’t,” he grumbled. “I’m literally already dying. I just watched my soul leave my body.”

She leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’m pretty sure you’ll live.”

Joe groaned, resting his forehead against her shoulder. “You’re evil.”

“I’m brilliant,” she corrected, wrapping her legs loosely around his waist. “And maybe now you’ll remember who owns your attention.”

Joe looked up, lips brushing her jaw. “That’s how you’re playing it now?”

Angel gave him a slow smile, equal parts sweet and smug. “I don’t play, baby. I win.”

He kissed her collarbone, gentle and slow, dragging his hands down to her waist as if that was enough to satisfy him. “You pierce anything else I should know about?”

Her grin widened. “You’ll just have to behave for four months to find out.”

Joe groaned again, more dramatic this time, collapsing lightly into her with all the weight of a man denied the one thing he wanted most. “Four months,” he repeated, hopeless.

Angel’s laugh echoed through the kitchen, rich and warm. “Start the countdown, Burrow.”

And he did.

That night, Joe held her like a man trying to memorize the map to heaven but couldn’t touch the treasure just yet. And by the time she was asleep in his arms, he’d already set a reminder in his phone.

Day One: Survive. Day One Hundred Twenty: Devour.

Σ>―💛→

Joe didn’t need a calendar to know what today was.

He’d been counting in silence since the night Angel first dropped the bomb on him, casually flashing him in his kitchen while he was on the phone with Ja’Marr—two silver bars glinting from her chest and the words “You have to wait four months” still echoing like a curse in his head.

And wait he did.

Through tank tops. Braless mornings. Through late-night stretches on the couch when she'd lean over him in nothing but sleep shorts and one of his cut-off tees, the soft sway of her chest right there in front of him—teasing, unbothered, and completely off-limits.

Angel didn’t make it easy.

In fact, she made it her personal mission to make it as hard as humanly possible.

Not that she ever said as much out loud—but Joe could see it in the glint in her eyes, in the way her lips twitched when he swallowed hard, in the casually sinful stretch of skin she just happened to leave uncovered every chance she got.

The teasing started subtly at first—harmless, even playful. But by the second week, it became an unrelenting game of chicken, and Joe was losing. Badly.

“Hey babe,” Angel would purr, strolling past him in the kitchen like it was nothing, bare from the waist up beneath one of his old open flannels, the fabric slipping down one shoulder like it couldn’t be bothered to do its job. “Can you hand me the almond milk?”

Joe froze mid-reach, halfway through stirring his protein shake, mouth open, thoughts completely abandoned. His gaze locked—helplessly—on the way her new piercings caught the morning sun filtering through the window, silver bars gleaming like temptation itself. Her nipples were already perfect, but with the added jewelry? It was criminal.

“You’re a menace,” he muttered after a beat, yanking the fridge open with more force than necessary and practically throwing the almond milk at her without daring to look down again.

Angel just grinned as she took the carton. “You’re dramatic,” she said sweetly, standing on tiptoe to press a kiss to his cheek—just close enough for her chest to brush his bicep. Then she turned and walked away with a slow, deliberate sway of her hips, her back bare beneath the open flannel, confidence radiating off of her like perfume.

Joe stared after her with a tight jaw, his knuckles whitening around the blender lid. Lord, give me strength.

The closer they got to the end of the four-month wait, the bolder she became.

Sometimes she didn’t bother pretending. She’d stroll out of the bathroom after a shower, steam still clinging to her glowing brown skin, towel slung low on her hips and nothing on top. Just lotion-slicked curves, soft and warm, her nipple jewelry peeking out like a dare.

Joe had once dropped his phone when she bent over to grab her bonnet off the nightstand, her breasts swaying unbothered and unbothering, like this was just normal behavior in any shared living space. Like he wasn’t holding himself together with willpower and cold showers.

“Angel…” he groaned one night, voice tight with frustration, as she leaned over him on the couch to grab the remote. Her chest brushed his shoulder—intentional, no question—and his eyes darted to the sliver of skin visible beneath the cutoff tank she wore like it owed her rent.

“What?” she asked, all wide eyes and feigned innocence. “They’re healing. I can’t wear anything tight yet.”

“Then why,” he said through gritted teeth, “are you rubbing them all over me?”

She blinked, cocking her head like she was trying to understand quantum mechanics. “I wasn’t.”

“Angel.”

A slow, guilty smile curved her mouth. “Okay… maybe a little. But you’re fun to watch when you’re frustrated.”

Joe muttered something low and vile and locked himself in the bathroom with the shower running cold enough to induce amnesia.

The flashes were somehow worse.

Sudden. Swift. Calculated.

She’d wait until his back was turned—then lift her shirt for half a second, just long enough to catch his eye and show him what he couldn’t have. Her laughter echoed down the hallway like music when she saw the way he twitched, fists clenching, breath catching like she’d thrown a grenade into the room.

“You’re gonna pay for this,” he warned one Saturday afternoon during film review, notebook open on his lap. Angel had walked in, flashed him without a word, and then plopped down across his thighs like she hadn’t just short-circuited his brain.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled against his ear. “I’m counting on it.”

He spent the rest of that study session blinking at the same replay of a slant route ten times, unable to focus, too busy trying to remember how breathing worked.

Joe’s restraint became something legendary—at least in his own mind. Not a single touch. Not a single reckless graze, even though every bone in his body begged him to just feel. Even when she fell asleep tangled in the sheets beside him, the edge of her tank top riding up to expose the curve of her breast and a flash of silver. Even when she reached across him in bed and the cool metal brushed his arm and sent heat roaring straight to his core.

But he never cracked.

Not once.

Though by the time the end of the countdown rolled around, Joe Burrow was holding himself together by thread and prayer.

And Angel? Angel was sleeping like a damn angel, stretched out across their bed, as if she hadn’t just spent the last four months slowly unraveling him one braless outfit at a time.

Σ>―💛→

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon, the kind that lingered slow and heavy with the scent of clean laundry and Joe’s cologne clinging to the cushions. The living room was dim, the blinds tilted just enough to let streaks of golden light dance across the hardwood floors. Joe sat slouched on the couch, remote in one hand, his other arm sprawled lazily across the backrest as he flipped through film from last week’s game on his tablet.

Angel had been wandering in and out of the room for the past fifteen minutes, suspiciously quiet, wearing a cropped white tank top that stopped just above her ribs and a pair of soft black cotton shorts so small they might as well have been underwear. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a loose puff, curls bouncing with every barefoot step as she moved around the apartment pretending to clean—but really, she was watching him.

He was so focused, brows furrowed, lip caught between his teeth, murmuring things like, "read that coverage too early," and "come back to the middle." And it would’ve been cute, the way he got so lost in his zone, if he wasn’t also completely ignoring her.

Angel narrowed her eyes, then smiled like a cat who just spotted an unattended fish bowl.

She crossed the room slowly and without a word, then climbed right into his lap—backward. She straddled him with practiced ease, her thighs bracketing his hips, the hem of her tank lifting just enough to flash him the bottom curve of her breasts as she settled against him like a perfectly placed landmine.

Joe flinched like she’d slapped him. His breath hitched. Hands instantly flew to her waist on instinct, but he kept them still, fingers twitching.

“Is this seat taken?” she asked sweetly, glancing over her shoulder with a faux-innocent smile.

Joe’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “Angel.”

She adjusted slightly, rolling her hips once—slow, deliberate. Not enough to be vulgar, but more than enough to make his abs tighten beneath her.

He groaned, low and long. “You trying to kill me, baby?”

“No,” she purred, tilting her head and stretching languidly, arms overhead in a move that made her back arch and her chest lift even more. “Just watching film with my man. Like a supportive girlfriend should.”

“Bullshit,” he muttered, voice tight, jaw clenching as he squeezed her waist—not pulling her closer, but definitely not letting her go. “You’ve been teasing me all damn week.”

She hummed, feigning surprise. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, you don’t?” he said dryly, glancing down at the way her tank barely clung to her body. “What even is this shirt?”

“Your old high school workout tee,” she said, adjusting it again like she was cold, which only made the fabric stretch tighter across her back. “You like when I wear your stuff.”

Joe dropped his head back with a groan, his hands gripping her hips harder now. “Angel, I’m begging you. Have mercy.”

She wriggled just enough to press back into him again, a wicked smile curling her lips as she looked over her shoulder. “Four months, remember? Still got a few weeks left, Quarterback.”

Joe’s eyes darkened, his voice a rasp against her shoulder. “You think I don’t know that? I’ve been counting down like it’s my job.”

“Well,” she said, leaning back into his chest, her bare skin pressing flush against his shirt, “maybe next time, you’ll think twice before letting Ja’Marr talk your ear off instead of paying attention to me.”

His hands slid up under her tank top, hovering just below the line of her ribs. “You’re diabolical.”

“I’m motivating,” she corrected. “You’re more focused now than ever.”

Joe laughed under his breath, half in pain, half in awe. “Focused? I haven’t been able to think straight since the day you came home with those piercings.”

She leaned back further, lips grazing his jaw. “Then you’re welcome.”

He kissed the curve of her shoulder, a soft press of lips that lingered. “Just know, the second that four-month mark hits?”

“Mmhmm?”

“I’m cashing in every tease. With interest.”

Angel grinned, pulling his arms tighter around her like she had no idea what kind of fire she was playing with. “Can’t wait.”

And Joe, still clutching her against him while the film played on forgotten in the background, knew he was a man holding back a storm—but for her, he’d wait.

He just wasn’t going to be quiet about it.

Σ>―💛→

Mornings were the worst—and not in the traditional, groggy, alarm-blaring kind of way. No, for Joe, mornings had become a masterclass in suffering ever since Angel decided the bedroom was her own personal stage for slow, intentional torment.

It always started the same.

The first thing he’d feel was movement—her body shifting beside him, warm skin brushing against his as she stirred. Then came the stretch. A long, luxurious, feline arch of her back, arms reaching overhead until her shirt—that damn thin white tank of his she always claimed as sleepwear—crept up her torso inch by deliberate inch. It rode high enough to expose the soft undercurve of her breasts, the cool morning air hardening her already sensitive nipples beneath the fabric… and the flash of silver piercings never failed to catch the light peeking through their bedroom window.

Joe would crack one eye open, groggy, already struggling to keep his breathing steady. His body reacted before his brain could fully register it—heat pooling low in his stomach, jaw tensing as he fought to stay still and pretend like he didn’t notice.

And then—like clockwork—she’d roll out of bed, pulling the covers off with her, giving him a full, unobstructed view of her ass in those barely-there cotton shorts as she stood at the foot of the bed and stretched again, arms up, shirt rising, body glowing in the soft golden light.

“Angel,” he rasped one morning, voice still thick with sleep, hand dragging down his face as he blinked at her. His sheets were already tented and his patience was nonexistent. “Baby…”

She turned just slightly, enough to catch his expression over her shoulder—eyes dark with frustration, lips parted, hair a wild halo around his pillow.

Her face lit with mock surprise. “Oops,” she said, biting back a smirk. “Forgot you were awake.”

Joe let out a long, suffering breath, dragging a hand through his hair as he propped himself up on one elbow. “You forgot, huh?”

“Totally innocent,” she said, pulling open a drawer and bending at the waist just enough to make him curse under his breath. “Just trying to get dressed.”

He watched as she slid her shorts down and stepped out of them with a grace that was anything but accidental, standing in nothing but the tank and a pair of lacey black panties he didn’t remember her owning.

“You do realize this counts as psychological warfare, right?”

She straightened, pulling a fresh pair of leggings from the drawer, her tone airy. “I don’t make the rules, Joey. Just trying to be comfortable while these heal.”

“No bra?” he asked, eyes locked on the swaying movement of her chest as she pulled her hair up into a bun.

“Can’t,” she said with a shrug. “Irritates them. Doctor’s orders.”

He groaned, dropping his head back against the pillow. “You’re the devil.”

“Correction,” she said, sliding the leggings up her thighs like she was moving through molasses. “I’m your devil.”

“Unfair,” he muttered, clearly suffering.

She turned and walked toward the bed slowly, purposefully, every step deliberate as her hips swayed. “Need help getting up?”

“I need Jesus,” Joe grumbled, pulling a pillow over his lap.

Angel laughed, low and soft, leaning down to press a slow, teasing kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You’ve got two weeks left. You’re doing so good, baby.”

“I don’t feel good,” he whispered, voice cracking as her chest brushed his shoulder just enough for him to feel the cool metal through the fabric.

She smirked. “Don’t give up on me now.”

Joe reached for her out of instinct, but she danced back, out of reach, lips curling in triumph as she pulled her hoodie over her tank and tied her hair up for real this time.

“Breakfast?” she asked like she hadn’t just made his morning hell.

He stared at her like she’d set him on fire and offered him toast.

“Angel,” he said, voice low, “the second June first hits, you’re mine.”

She paused at the door, casting him one last wicked smile. “Countdown’s ticking, baby.”

And then she was gone, humming down the hallway while Joe lay there in bed, completely wrecked before the day even started.

Again.

Σ>―💛→

Angel’s post-shower routine had become another carefully crafted test of Joe’s sanity. Not that she’d ever admit it outright—no, she claimed it was all “self-care” and “responsible aftercare.” But Joe knew better.

Every time she stepped out of the bathroom, steam curling behind her like mist from a spell, she made sure to towel off just enough to glisten. Her skin still damp, golden and glowing, she’d toss the towel aside with zero ceremony, letting it fall to the floor in a soft, damp heap. Then she’d walk—completely bare—across the room to their full-length mirror, hips swaying with that slow, unhurried confidence that made Joe feel like he was watching something sacred.

And then it began.

Body butter. That sweet, warm vanilla one she knew drove him insane. She’d open the jar, scoop some out, and start smoothing it in with long, deliberate motions—first her arms, then her legs, moving slow, rubbing circles into her skin like she was sculpting marble.

Joe watched from the bed, his back against the headboard, arms folded behind his head like restraint alone was the only thing keeping him from lunging. His jaw flexed, chest rising and falling in measured breaths as she worked her way up to her hips, then her stomach… and then, with zero hesitation, her breasts.

The piercings caught the light. Silver and perfect. Her thumbs worked in slow, careful circles, massaging the butter in, fingers grazing over metal and skin alike. She was focused, methodical, and entirely too graceful to pretend this wasn’t a performance.

He swallowed hard, eyes fixed, unable to look away.

And then—because she knew exactly when to deliver the killing blow—she looked up. Met his gaze through the mirror like she’d just remembered he was there, watching her unravel him one circle of body butter at a time.

Her mouth curved into a smirk.

“Can’t neglect the healing process,” she said sweetly, almost innocently.

Joe didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

“I need Jesus,” he whispered.

Angel chuckled under her breath, turning slightly so he could see even more of her side profile—her thigh propped up on the bench in front of the mirror now as she focused on the curve of her hip, the swell of her ass, the long, slow trail of her hands gliding over every inch like she had nowhere to be but here. Glowing. Teasing. Testing the man who hadn’t known true restraint until she’d gifted it to him in the form of four months of look, but don’t touch.

“You know,” she said conversationally, dipping her fingers into the jar again, “this stuff works better when it’s massaged in slowly. Blood circulation helps with the healing process.”

Joe let out a low, strangled noise from the back of his throat. “You’re evil.”

Angel looked over her shoulder, smiling like sin. “I’m glowing.”

“You’re naked,” he shot back.

“Semantics.”

He groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face, then dropped it to the bed like he was seconds from waving a white flag.

Angel, completely unbothered, stood and admired her reflection for a beat longer before casually reaching for the oversized robe hanging on the door. She slipped into it slowly—so slowly it felt like a punishment in itself—and tied it loosely at the waist, leaving just enough of a gap to remind him of what he still wasn’t allowed to touch.

“Lunch?” she asked brightly, like she hadn’t just sent him to the brink of madness.

Joe glared at the ceiling like maybe divine intervention was coming for him after all. “Only if it’s served cold. Like my life.”

Angel giggled and disappeared into the hallway, hips swaying, leaving behind the lingering scent of vanilla and crushed resolve.

And Joe? Joe lay back on the bed, already counting down the days. Again.

Σ>―💛→

The kitchen smelled like home—the thick aroma of simmering tomato sauce mingled with garlic and fresh basil, curling through the warm air like a familiar invitation. Soft jazz hummed quietly from the speakers in the corner, mixing with the gentle clatter of pots and pans. Joe stood by the stove, stirring the spaghetti noodles with methodical patience, trying to keep his focus on dinner but already feeling the subtle pull of distraction tightening around him.

Angel floated beside him, an effortless presence in loose lounge pants and a cropped tank top that left little to the imagination. Her every movement was fluid, graceful, the way she moved around the kitchen like she owned the space—and the night. She reached up toward the top shelf to grab the jar of Italian seasoning, stretching her arms above her head in slow, deliberate motions. The thin straps of her tank slipped down her shoulders just so, exposing the delicate curve of her collarbone. Then, with teasing inevitability, the hem of her shirt lifted just enough to bare the gleam of her silver nipple piercings.

When her bare skin brushed against his shoulder as she leaned past him, Joe recoiled like he’d touched something electric. His breath caught, and the muscles in his neck tightened involuntarily.

“I’m just trying to make spaghetti here,” he muttered, voice low but edged with a mix of exasperation and something far more vulnerable. “Why are your tits involved in this operation?”

Angel turned to face him, eyes wide but sparkling with laughter that threatened to spill over. Her lips curled into that signature mischievous grin that always spelled trouble. “I don’t know, Joe. Maybe you’re the one standing in the way.”

He narrowed his eyes, setting the wooden spoon down with a soft clink against the pot. “Explain that.”

She stepped closer, the heat from her body radiating against his side like a quiet challenge. Leaning in, she dropped her voice to a teasing whisper, her breath warm against his ear. “Because every time you try to focus, I end up distracting you.” Her fingers traced a lazy path over his forearm, sending a jolt through him. “Maybe it’s my fault your hands keep wandering.”

Joe’s jaw clenched, fighting a grin even as his heart hammered against his ribs. “Hands haven’t even made it close yet,” he protested.

“Yet.” Angel’s smirk deepened, her eyes glinting with promise. “But I’m working on it.”

He sighed, shaking his head as he turned back toward the stove, though his eyes kept flickering to her—the way her tank clung loosely to her curves, the subtle shimmer of the piercings catching the kitchen light like tiny stars.

“You really want me to lose focus on dinner?” he asked, voice thick with mock accusation.

She shrugged innocently, then shot him a slow, deliberate wink. “I just want to make sure dinner is the last thing on your mind.”

Joe groaned, the heat pooling deep inside his belly, and muttered, “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” Angel replied softly, looping an arm around his waist and pressing herself against him. Her fingers slid upward, tracing circles on his side like a silent promise.

Before he could respond, she tilted her head up and brushed her lips over his in a slow, teasing kiss that quickly deepened, drawing him in like gravity. His hands twitched, fingers brushing the edges of her tank top, aching to touch the warm skin beneath.

Joe’s hands slid beneath the fabric, grazing the cool silver of the piercings, and he let out a low, desperate sound. “Angel, come on—”

But she pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, a sly smile curving her lips. “Not yet.”

His brows furrowed in frustration, lips parting to plead, “Please? I’m losing my mind here.”

She laughed softly, a sound full of triumph. “You can wait. You’re going to have to earn it.”

He shook his head, half-laughing, half-defeated, as she slipped out of his grasp, the soft click of her footsteps retreating echoing through the room.

Joe stared after her, the simmering sauce bubbling quietly on the stove, the heat in his body growing, a delicious ache that made him wonder if he’d survive the night without losing control completely.

Σ>―💛→

A few days later, Joe had every intention of having a productive study session. The kitchen table was covered in notebooks, highlighters, and a half-empty cup of coffee—his battlefield for the next few hours. He was hunched over a complicated diagram, lips moving silently as he tried to memorize every detail.

But then Angel slipped in, as effortlessly distracting as ever.

She was wearing nothing but a pair of soft boyshorts and one of his old button-down shirts, left completely unbuttoned. The fabric hung loose and inviting, revealing more than Joe was ready for—her piercings peeking through, skin glowing softly in the afternoon light.

Without a word, she sauntered over to the table, her bare feet making no sound on the hardwood. Joe’s eyes stayed glued to his notes, stubbornly refusing to look up, but he could feel her presence closing in.

Suddenly, she leaned forward, reaching over the table with casual grace, her hand brushing against his papers as she plucked his pen from the mess.

“Didn’t mean to distract you,” she murmured, voice smooth and teasing.

Joe blinked, caught between glancing at the delicate curve of her chest framed by the open shirt and the scrawled words on his notebook. His brain scrambled to refocus, but it was hopeless.

“You’re gonna make me fail a quiz and a drug test at the same time,” he said, exasperated, though the corner of his mouth twitched with amusement.

Angel grinned, tugging the shirt tighter around her waist just enough to remind him what he was up against. “That bad, huh?”

“Terrible,” he muttered, shaking his head. Then, catching her eyes, he added, “How am I supposed to concentrate when you keep showing up like this?”

She shrugged innocently but didn’t move away. “Maybe you need a break.”

Joe groaned, but the tired weight of studying suddenly felt a lot lighter—like maybe a little distraction wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

Σ>―💛→

It was late—one of those nights when the guys were deep into a gaming session on Discord, their voices crackling through the headsets as they shouted strategies, exchanged barbs, and traded trash talk like seasoned veterans. Joe sat on the edge of the couch in the dimly lit living room, controller gripped firmly in his hands, eyes locked on the screen. The flickering glow of the TV bathed his focused face in shifting hues of electric blue and green, reflecting the digital battlefield where every second counted.

Around him, the room told the story of hours-long play: empty snack bags spilled near the coffee table, half-full soda cans sweating in the warm air, and the low hum of the game’s audio blending with the boys’ banter. Ja’Marr’s voice pierced through Joe’s headset with that familiar mix of rivalry and laughter, thick with the kind of competitive energy that always bubbled up when the game hit a tense point.

“Bro, you ready to get smoked or what?” Ja’Marr teased, chuckling as he laid down the challenge.

Joe smirked, his fingers twitching over the buttons, ready to fire back with a sharp comeback—when the door creaked open behind him, soft and deliberate.

Angel stepped inside like she owned the moment, her presence immediately stealing the air from the room. She moved with that effortless grace, a confident sway in her hips that made Joe’s head snap around faster than he expected. Loose lounge pants hugged her hips, but she wore no shirt—just one of his old, oversized faded tees, knotted casually at her waist, leaving her waist bare to the world. The soft cotton clung just enough to suggest, never hiding the silver flash of her nipple piercings that glittered under the overhead light like tiny rebellious stars.

She paused for the briefest moment—just long enough for their eyes to meet across the room, a spark of mischief dancing in her gaze. Then, with the smooth fluidity of a seasoned tease, she lifted the hem of the shirt in one practiced motion, revealing the bare skin beneath. The silver jewelry caught the light and shimmered—an unspoken challenge, a secret shared just between them.

She gave him a slow, deliberate wink, the kind that said I know exactly what I’m doing, before turning on her heel and sliding quietly back out of the room. The faint click of the door closing was like a whispered promise hanging in the air, leaving Joe suspended between shock and desire.

He blinked, frozen in place, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes drifted back to the screen. But the controller felt suddenly foreign in his hands, heavy and useless. His focus shattered, replaced by a swirling heat that seemed to consume every thought.

“Bro, you good?” Ja’Marr’s voice cut through the silence in his headset, sharp with curiosity and concern.

Joe swallowed hard, voice barely above a whisper, raw with defeat. “…No. I’m not.”

The image of Angel’s bare skin and that slow, teasing wink kept replaying behind his eyelids, distracting him with an intensity that made it impossible to concentrate. The words in the headset faded into background noise as his pulse quickened, the heat in his chest spreading like wildfire.

“Dude, seriously, you’re about to throw the whole game,” Ja’Marr’s voice pressed again, sharper this time. “Focus up.”

Joe forced his jaw tight, trying to reel his attention back to the screen. He squinted at the flashing icons, the mini-map, the countdown timer—but all he could think about was Angel’s soft skin brushing against him, the subtle glint of metal catching the light, and the way she owned the room just by standing there.

Just as he was about to dive back into the match, the door swung open again, softer this time, and Angel slipped inside, her bare feet silent on the carpet. This time, she wore that same faded tee, but it was completely unbuttoned—no knot at the waist—letting the fabric fall open like a curtain revealing the real show.

She sauntered up behind Joe, resting her hands lightly on his shoulders, leaning down so close her breath tickled the back of his neck. “Still distracted?” she whispered, voice low and teasing.

Joe’s breath hitched. “You’re killing me.”

She grinned, fingers tracing lazy circles over his shirt. “Good. You deserve a little punishment for ignoring me.”

“Punishment?” He turned his head just enough to catch her smirk in the reflection of the TV screen.

“Absolutely.” She leaned in, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “But maybe if you win this game, I’ll reward you.”

Joe groaned, the challenge fueling a fire beneath his skin. He flicked his eyes back to the screen, gripping the controller tighter. “Now that’s motivation.”

Angel squeezed his shoulders gently and stepped back, disappearing with a playful wink and a soft click of the door. Joe exhaled slowly, a grin tugging at his lips despite himself.

“Alright, Ja’Marr,” he muttered into his mic, “Let’s finish this. But don’t blame me if I’m a little... distracted.”

Ja’Marr laughed. “Man, y’all are nasty.”

Joe shook his head, fingers moving faster, heart pounding—but with Angel’s tease still warming his skin, maybe, just maybe, he was ready to take on anything.

Σ>―💛→

Sometimes, when Joe was in the middle of changing in their bedroom—halfway through pulling off his shirt or reaching for a pair of shorts—Angel would quietly slip into the doorway without a sound. It was one of those subtle, unspoken moves that made his pulse spike every single time. She never made a scene or said a word; instead, she simply leaned casually against the doorframe, one arm lifted above her head, elbow resting lightly on the wood. The other arm hung loose at her side, fingers tracing idle patterns against her thigh.

Her posture was relaxed, almost effortless, but there was an undeniable electricity about her presence—like the whole room subtly shifted around her. The soft glow from the bedside lamp spilled through the space, casting a warm amber light that softened the edges of the furniture and draped shadows over her body. The thin fabric of her tank top hung loose and light, sheer enough that the silver flash of her new nipple piercings peeked beneath, catching the light with a quiet gleam that made Joe’s breath hitch.

He was halfway through pulling his shirt over his head when his eyes caught her in the doorway, and everything stopped. His arm froze mid-motion, the fabric dangling from his fingers. His muscles tensed, chest tightening with that sudden, familiar rush of heat that had nothing to do with the room’s temperature. Her eyes met his, sharp and mischievous, a silent challenge that spoke louder than words.

“Don’t just stand there like that,” Joe said, voice low and rough with a mixture of amusement and warning. His gaze didn’t waver from hers.

Angel’s lips twitched into a sly, almost predatory smile. “Like what?” she said, the playful tease in her tone impossible to miss. Her eyes sparkled, daring him. “I’m literally just standing here.”

Joe’s gaze swept over her slowly, savoring the sight—the way the thin cotton clung to the curves of her chest, the subtle outline of her nipples boldly visible beneath the fabric, glinting where the silver jewelry caught the light. It was like she’d crafted this moment just to torment him, and damn if it wasn’t working.

“Naked and disrespectful,” he shot back with a crooked grin, moving to the chair where a hoodie lay draped and yanked it off with mock exasperation. He tossed it her way like an overgrown kid reluctant to share his favorite toy.

She caught it without missing a beat, the soft laughter that spilled from her lips ringing warm and light in the room. It was a sound that had haunted his thoughts all day—like a private joke only they understood. She shrugged the hoodie over her shoulders, the fabric sliding against her skin, and took a slow step forward into the room, fully claiming the space as her own.

Joe exhaled deeply, caught somewhere between frustration and admiration. No matter how many times she pulled this stunt—how many times she slipped into the doorway and froze him in his tracks—Angel always had the perfect way of making his heart race, and every other part of him tingle with want.

He glanced down at the hoodie draped over her, a teasing glint in his eyes. “You know, you could just ask,” he said, voice rougher now, a slow smile spreading across his face.

Angel tilted her head, mock innocent. “And spoil all the fun?”

Joe shook his head, amusement flickering through his tiredness. “Yeah, you’re impossible.”

Her grin widened, eyes twinkling like she was already plotting her next move. “Maybe. But I’m your impossible.”

The room settled into a warm silence, filled only by the faint hum of the city outside and the soft rustle of the hoodie as she pulled it tighter around her. Joe found himself watching her, memorizing the way the light hit her skin, the way she lingered just long enough to keep him guessing before finally moving away.

He caught himself thinking: no matter how many times she teased him, no matter how much she made him beg silently in his own mind—he wouldn’t trade these moments for anything.

Σ>―💛→

It was late. The kind of late where the world felt too quiet and the air too warm. Angel was curled against him in bed, wearing one of his cut-off tanks, no bra underneath. Just skin and sleepy heat.

Joe’s arm was around her waist, hand splayed across her stomach. He didn’t mean to start anything. Not really. But his thumb started moving, slow, absent strokes just under the fabric.

Angel shifted, pressing her back tighter to him. She hummed softly. “You’re getting handsy.”

“Can’t help it,” he murmured, nuzzling into the crook of her neck. “You feel too good.”

His hand slid up just slightly, over her ribs, then paused at the edge of temptation. The fabric of her tank was thin—he could feel the jewelry through it. His breath caught.

Angel turned her head, voice barely a whisper. “Joe…”

He kissed her shoulder, his voice rough with restraint. “I just wanna touch.”

“They’re not fully healed yet.”

“I know,” he groaned, forehead pressing to her shoulder. “I swear I wasn’t trying to start anything. I just…”

“Miss them?” she teased gently.

“Miss you,” he corrected. “All of you. I’ve been good, Angel. So good. You have no idea.”

She rolled to face him, eyes soft and fond and a little wicked. “You want me to kiss it better?”

Joe exhaled like she’d knocked the wind out of him. “Angel, don’t play.”

“I’m not,” she whispered, brushing her lips over his. “But you still gotta wait.”

He let out a strangled sound of frustration, burying his face in her neck.

“I hate rules,” he muttered.

She laughed, stroking his hair. “You love me more.”

He groaned again. “That’s the only reason I’m surviving.”

Joe was unraveling.

Still buried in the crook of Angel’s neck, he let out a long, strained groan like he was in actual pain. His hand had stopped just under her chest, trembling from the effort it took not to move any higher. Every breath he took made his resolve slip further.

“Baby…” he rasped, voice cracking.

Angel hummed, soft and smug, dragging her nails up the back of his neck. “Yes, love?”

He lifted his head slowly, eyes wild and glassy with desperation. “Please.”

Her lips parted, feigning innocence. “Please what?”

“You know what,” he growled, the restraint in his body visibly wearing thin. “Just a little touch. I swear I’ll be gentle. I’ll be careful. I’ll be so careful.”

She bit her bottom lip, amused and a little flattered. “Joe—”

“Angel, please.” The word came out strangled, like it hurt to say. “You can’t just walk around here naked and glistening and wearing those little tops that don’t hide anything and expect me to be normal.”

“I’ve been following doctor’s orders,” she teased, kissing the corner of his mouth. “You’re the one losing your mind.”

“I lost it three weeks ago,” he confessed without shame. “I’m gone, baby. I’m a shell of a man.”

Her laugh was low and wicked as she traced the seam of his jaw. “So dramatic.”

“You don’t get it,” he groaned, dragging a hand down his face before cupping her cheek with the other. “You were already hard to keep my hands off of. And now? You sparkle. Like a damn present. And I’m not allowed to unwrap you.”

Angel rolled her eyes, amused despite the heat in her belly. “It’s been three months and three weeks. That’s like… ninety-five percent of the way there.”

“Exactly! That’s practically healed!” he argued like he was in court. “I’ve read everything—online, in the aftercare stuff, even that weird Reddit thread. And I swear, they all said some people are good by week fourteen.”

“You went on Reddit?” she asked, shocked.

“I’m in forums, Angel,” he said, dead serious. “I’m lurking. I’m lurking so hard.”

She couldn’t help the laughter that escaped her, even as he pressed his forehead against hers and whispered again, more softly this time.

“Please let me touch you.”

Her breath hitched.

“You’ve had me dreaming about this for months. I’ve had to pray to stay in control. Do you know how many cold showers I’ve taken?” He ran his thumb over her bottom lip, eyes pleading. “Just one touch. One.”

Angel studied him, lips parting, chest rising and falling a little faster.

“You’ll be gentle?” she asked, like she didn’t already know the answer.

“I’ll be so gentle,” he promised instantly. “I’ll be slow. I’ll be careful. I’ll treat you like glass, baby. Just… please.”

She paused. Let the tension stretch.

Then slowly—very slowly—she reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, letting it fall between them in silence.

Joe’s breath caught like he’d just been handed a miracle.

His hands hovered, trembling, just a breath away from touching her. He reached out like she was sacred, fingertips brushing over the swell of her breast—but the moment they got close enough to graze the jewelry, Angel caught his wrist.

“Uh-uh,” she said softly, her voice a velvet dagger.

He blinked, stunned. “Angel…”

“I said four months, Joey.”

“It’s been four months and some change,” he argued, practically panting now, eyes wide and hungry. “I counted. I counted every damn day.”

She tilted her head, pretending to consider it. “And the countdown ends… next week.”

Joe stared at her like she’d kicked him in the chest. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not,” she said sweetly, brushing her thumb along his jaw, her touch infuriatingly gentle. “It’s technically four months next week. If you want to be exact.”

He groaned like he was in physical agony, forehead dropping to her chest—but she arched away with a smirk, denying him even that.

“You’re cruel,” he whispered. “You’re so cruel.”

“I’m thorough,” she corrected, climbing off his lap like a cat unbothered. She stretched again, this time with full intent, her bare chest on full display for one glorious second before she pulled his shirt back on—slowly. Torturously.

Joe watched, visibly pained, eyes dark and jaw clenched so tight it might crack. “Angel…”

“I’m proud of you,” she said, like she hadn’t just turned his bones to jelly. “You’ve lasted longer than I thought you would.”

“Barely.”

She leaned in close, mouth brushing his ear, her voice a warm whisper. “Just one more week Joey. You can wait one more week, right?”

He made a sound halfway between a whimper and a prayer.

“I’m gonna die.”

“You’re gonna survive,” she said, already walking toward the closet, hips swaying with every step. “And next week? You can have all of me.”

Joe collapsed back against the couch, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“You’re evil,” he mumbled.

“And you love me,” she called over her shoulder.

“I do,” he groaned, helpless. “But I also hate you just a little right now.”

She laughed, light and wicked. “Good. That’ll make next week even better.”

And with that, she disappeared into the other room, leaving Joe alone, painfully hard, and counting down the hours like a man waiting for his release from solitary confinement.

One more week.

Just one.

If he made it.

Σ>―💛→

But today—today—that streak was finally over.

He’d been counting—not just days, but moments. Every stolen glance when her shirt clung just a little tighter. Every time she stretched in front of him with no bra, feigning innocence with that slight smirk. Every teasing brush of her chest against his back while he tried to stay focused on game film, breathing through his nose like he wasn’t two seconds from begging.

It had been four months. One hundred and twenty days. Seventeen weeks of temptation, discipline, and whispered promises he’d murmured into her skin. But now… now the wait was over.

And he was already half hard just thinking about it.

Angel was sprawled across their bed, belly down, lazily flipping through a worn paperback, one of her legs bent at the knee as she hummed quietly to the music playing from her phone speaker. Her hair was piled into a messy bun that exposed the delicate slope of her neck, and Joe had been watching her from the doorway for the past five minutes, arms crossed, jaw tight.

The sunlight made her skin glow. The kind of glow that didn’t just catch the eye—it pulled at something deeper. His fingers twitched like they missed the feel of her already, and he hadn't even touched her yet.

She glanced up, sensing him.

“You okay?” she asked, a little amused, a little curious.

His voice came out hoarse, deeper than he intended. “What day is it?”

Angel smiled. Slow. Knowing. “June first.”

That was all he needed.

Joe pushed off the doorframe with quiet purpose, the air shifting as he crossed the room. Angel sat up just as he reached the edge of the bed, her eyes laughing even as her body leaned into his.

“You really remembered the date?”

“I’ve had it circled in my mental playbook since the night you flashed me,” he said, slipping an arm around her waist, tugging her into his lap. Her book fell to the floor, forgotten.

“You act like it was hard,” she teased, straddling him. “I’m not that irresistible.”

Joe gave her a look that made her feel scorched from the inside out. “Angel… you wore tank tops. No bra. Around the house. For weeks.”

“You said you liked when I’m comfortable.”

“I do,” he murmured, lips brushing her jaw. “But I like it a hell of a lot more when I can touch you.”

His hands slid under the hem of her shirt—one of his old LSU tees she always stole—the pads of his fingers grazing her lower back with slow, reverent pressure.

She shivered. “So what now?”

Joe didn’t answer with words. He just shifted her back, guiding her gently until she was lying across the pillows, curls tumbling free, brown eyes wide as he knelt over her.

The shirt came off slowly, like unwrapping a gift he’d been forbidden to touch. His hands trembled just enough to give him away. When the cotton hit the floor and the light caught the silver jewelry—two small bars glinting against her rich skin—Joe stilled completely.

His breath caught. His eyes darkened. And for a second, he just stared.

“Jesus,” he whispered. “Baby…”

Angel’s cheeks flushed under the heat of his gaze, but her smile was smug. “Still think I was torturing you on accident?”

He swallowed hard. “I take back everything I ever said about you not being a menace.”

“Good.”

Joe reached out, slow and reverent, fingers ghosting over her ribs until they hovered—just hovered—above the new jewelry. He didn’t touch yet, didn’t dare. His voice came out tight. “You sure I can?”

She nodded, breath already shaky. “You waited.”

“Damn right I did.”

And then his hands made contact—light, reverent, and maddeningly gentle. Angel gasped, back arching just from the glide of his thumb across the side of her breast, careful not to disturb the fresh skin too much.

Her nipples had always been sensitive, but the jewelry heightened everything—her pulse kicked up just under his gaze alone.

Joe lowered his head, his voice a promise murmured into her skin. “You’ve been teasing me with these for months.”

Her hands threaded into his hair as his lips ghosted over her sternum, inching lower.

“I wasn’t teasing,” she said, breathless. “I was being responsible.”

He chuckled darkly. “That’s cute. Let me be irresponsible now.”

But then his mouth followed.

Slow. Careful. Worshipful.

His lips wrapped around one pierced nipple, the cold metal pressing against the warmth of his tongue. Angel cried out, a sound she hadn’t meant to make, her fingers flying to his hair as sensation lit her up from the inside out.

“Still good?” he asked, voice low, voice rough.

“Joe,” she whispered, “if you stop now, I will scream.”

That earned her a wicked smile before he ducked his head again, taking his time, alternating between teasing flicks and deep, steady suction that had her thighs squeezing around his waist.

“I missed this,” she breathed, breath catching as he moved to the other side.

“You had me the whole time,” Joe said, nipping at her skin. “But now I get all of you again.”

Every kiss that followed was soaked in meaning. In built-up need. In four months of restraint finally unraveling.

The rest of the evening blurred into hours of sensation—soft moans and tangled sheets, whispered filth and sweeter confessions, Joe worshiping every inch of her with the kind of patience that came from knowing it was worth every second of the wait.

And when they finally collapsed into each other, breathless and smiling, Angel curled into his side, her chest rising and falling as she traced lazy circles on his stomach.

Joe pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Then, lower. Then finally to her chest again—gentle, reverent, his fingers brushing the now thoroughly adored piercings.

“Next time you get something pierced,” he murmured, “I’m going with you.”

Angel laughed sleepily. “Next time I’m making you wait six months.”

Joe groaned, dropping his head back against the pillow. “You’re evil.”

“Mmhm,” she said with a soft, smug smile. “But I’m yours.”

He wrapped his arms around her tighter, hand still resting on her chest like he couldn’t quite believe the countdown was over.

“Damn right you are.”

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