#the more i look at it the more i wanna change

[heeluvv]

˗ˏˋPAID SESSION

pairingᝰ.ᐟ park jongseong x fem reader ft. lee heeseung

warningsᝰ.ᐟ unprotected sex, oral (f), fingering, overstimulation, etc.

natty's notesᝰ.ᐟ 3/9 completed!

──

the sky outside jay’s apartment is dull and overcast, the kind of cloudy that makes the air feel thick and unsaid things feel heavier. heeseung doesn’t knock twice—just once, knuckles dragging off the wood like he’s already exhausted by the weight of walking through the door. jay looks up from the couch when it opens, expecting the usual lazy smirk and offhand banter, but heeseung’s face doesn’t match the energy. he looks… off—not angry, not annoyed, just quiet in a way that stretches under his skin, like something inside him didn’t settle right. “you look like hell,” jay mutters, pausing his music with a flick of the remote. “didn’t think she was the type to drain you like that.” heeseung doesn’t answer. just kicks off his shoes with one foot and sinks into the couch like gravity has doubled in strength, elbows resting on his knees, head down. silence hangs in the space between them, long and stiff.

jay waits a few beats, like maybe heeseung just needs a minute. maybe he’s tired. maybe it’s nothing. but heeseung exhales—long and hollow—and when he finally speaks, it’s without looking up. “she left.” the two words come out flat, but something behind them wavers, the kind of break you can only hear if you’re really paying attention. jay’s brow twitches, arms crossing loosely over his chest. “left?” he repeats, and heeseung nods, still not lifting his head. “as soon as it ended. pulled on her hoodie and walked out like it didn’t mean anything.” jay blinks slowly. “and… did it?”

heeseung’s jaw tightens, muscles shifting beneath his skin as he finally lifts his head and leans back into the couch cushions, eyes staring at a point above jay’s shoulder like he can’t look him straight in the face. “i didn’t even talk to her before we filmed,” he says, voice quiet but full. “not really. just… hello, a few lines about consent and angles, and then—” he stops, swallowing hard. “and then we started, and everything changed.” jay studies him now, frown deepening, the smug tease he’d usually fire off noticeably absent. “what changed?” heeseung licks his lips, slow and nervous. “i didn’t wanna stop. not even when the camera shut off. i didn’t wanna let her go.” the words hang there, heavier than anything he’s said.

jay leans forward slowly, resting his elbows on his knees as he studies heeseung with a calmness that feels a little too practiced. his voice is lighter than before, careful almost, as if he knows whatever thread he’s tugging on has the potential to unravel more than either of them wants to admit. “so,” he starts, tone smooth but softened now, “who is she?” he doesn’t say it like he’s prying. not yet. it’s quieter, more curious than anything—like he’s tiptoeing into something fragile, not wanting to break it before he understands what it is. heeseung doesn’t respond immediately. his eyes stay fixed on the floor, unfocused, and his fingers twitch once against the hem of his jeans, then again, like maybe the answer is buried there in the fabric if he presses hard enough.

jay watches him, head tilting slightly. “you said she posted recently, right?” he prompts, still gentle, still casual on the surface. “just drop the name. i won’t stalk.” it’s a light joke, but it lands with a dull thud in the silence that follows. heeseung doesn’t laugh. doesn’t smile. he doesn’t even look up. he just shakes his head—small, deliberate, a tiny movement that’s almost easy to miss if you’re not looking closely. jay is looking, though. he sees it. sees how stiff heeseung’s shoulders are, how still his hands go after that single shake of the head. the shift in the air is subtle, but unmistakable.

jay leans back a little, eyebrows pulling in. “what—you don’t wanna share?” he asks, the edge of something creeping into his voice now. it’s not judgment. not annoyance. just… confusion. curiosity. maybe even a hint of something else. but again, there’s no reply. heeseung’s jaw is tense now, his gaze still fixed somewhere across the room, anywhere but on jay. his silence feels thick. weighted. like there’s something he’s protecting and doesn’t want to admit to—not to jay, not to himself.

they sit like that for a moment, the quiet stretching long between them.

and jay doesn’t need him to say it.

because they’ve all had their moments. they’ve all talked about their collabs, laughed about awkward edits, swapped notes on lighting and pacing and what works. but they’ve never dropped usernames. it’s always been an unspoken rule—don’t ask, don’t check, don’t pry. the anonymity protects everyone, keeps it from getting personal. and if it’s not personal, it can stay simple. professional. clean.

but this? this silence?

this is not simple.

and jay knows—whatever happened between heeseung and that girl?

it’s not just content.

the realization creeps in slow. jay’s brows lift, lips parting as he exhales through his nose and lets the tension stretch between them. “wait…” he says, the edge of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “no fucking way.” heeseung doesn’t budge. “dude.” silence. “you’re not giving me the name because you’re into her?” still nothing. jay leans back in disbelief, blinking at him like he’s seeing him for the first time. “bro.” heeseung’s jaw flexes. “you caught feelings?”

and that’s it. no witty comeback. no scoff. no smirk. just stillness.

heeseung goes completely still.

jay lets out a low whistle, leaning back into the cushions with his arms spread across the top of the couch like he’s trying to fill the space with anything but the silence. “that’s crazy,” he laughs, shaking his head like he’s heard something ridiculous, even though the grin on his face doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “mr. freakshow himself, down bad for a girl he doesn’t even know much of?” he tries to keep it light, playful, the kind of jab he usually throws without thought, but this one lands weird. heeseung doesn’t flinch. doesn’t argue. doesn’t roll his eyes or laugh with him. he just sits there, unmoving, like the weight of the truth is too heavy to shift around anymore. jay glances at him again, this time longer, the humor starting to fade from his mouth. “you serious right now?” he asks, quieter now, the air settling. “like… actually serious?”

heeseung doesn’t answer. doesn’t need to. his silence says everything, thick and loud and final, and jay leans forward again, elbows on his knees, the playfulness draining from his posture. “you’re really not gonna tell me who she is?” he presses, and this time there’s something different in his voice—something caught between curiosity and disbelief. heeseung shifts slightly, finally dragging a hand over his face, and mutters, “no.” jay tilts his head, trying to get a read, but it’s hard to see through it—the silence, the distance, the weird swell of something he can’t name growing in the pit of his stomach. “you think she’s the only one who made you feel something?” he jokes half-heartedly, but there’s a bitter edge beneath it now. “there’s, like, dozens of new creators every week.” heeseung glances up at him then, and the look in his eyes is so bare, so unguarded, that jay has to look away.

he shrugs like it’s nothing, standing to stretch and move toward the kitchen, even though there’s nothing waiting for him there. “you’ll move on,” he calls over his shoulder, like it’s fact. “you always do.” the words echo a little, float into the stillness like he needed to hear them aloud to believe them. heeseung doesn’t reply, and jay opens the fridge, stares inside like he’s suddenly deeply interested in the half-empty energy drink shelf. the longer the silence lasts, the heavier it feels—off, unfamiliar, like the ground has shifted just a few inches under both of them. jay grabs a can, pops the tab, and leans against the counter without turning around. “she must’ve been really good,” he says after a moment, voice quieter again, like the thought is sticking more than he expected it to. “or maybe you were just overdue.”

jay’s apartment feels too still once the door clicks shut behind heeseung, the weight of his silence lingering long after he’s gone. the couch feels cold, the echo of that final look he gave still playing in jay’s head, and for some reason, jay can’t stop pacing. he walks into the kitchen. opens the fridge. closes it again. stands by the window like the answers might be written in the clouds outside. but they’re not—so he does what he always does when something gets under his skin. he sits down, boots up his account, and scrolls through the new creators tab with idle swipes of his thumb, trying to let the algorithm distract him. names flash by, previews blur together, but one stops him cold. @babydollxo.

the profile is nothing flashy—no thirst traps, no bio full of emojis or promises—just a clean layout, a single post, and a display name that’s more suggestion than scream. it’s the thumbnail that makes him click—low lighting, soft curves, a still shot of thighs parted just enough to tease but not enough to show. he doesn’t recognize her. not even close. but something about it feels… personal. the video opens quietly, and what hits him first isn’t the visuals—it’s the sound. her breathing. her pace. the soft, near-whispered moan like she’s trying not to be heard. “fuck,” jay mutters, leaning closer, one hand braced on his jaw as the video loops back to the beginning. “who are you?”

he taps through her page, skimming the stats—no verification, barely a few thousand followers, but the engagement is insane. comments already pouring in, tips stacking, new subscribers flashing in real time. jay scrolls again, watching the preview once more before his fingers move on instinct—hitting follow, and typing out a message without even hesitating. 

you’ve got good rhythm. ever thought about collabing? 

it’s casual, confident, and quick—sent before he even second-guesses it. he settles back in his chair, lets the video loop again, and lingers longer this time, eyes trailing down the curves of her body. he doesn’t know her. doesn’t need to. he just knows she moves like she’s got something worth chasing.

he lets the video loop again, slower this time, volume just a bit louder, thumb hovering over the play bar like he wants to rewind and memorize every second of the way her hand moves. there’s something about her pacing—unrushed, unbothered, like she’s not performing for anyone but herself—that makes it worse. hotter. more real. she doesn’t show her face, but the shape of her mouth is visible in the soft outline of the mirror behind her, parted, pink, whispering something too faint to hear. jay’s hand slips beneath his waistband before he even realizes it, fingertips brushing over his cock already half-hard from nothing but her rhythm and the sound of her moans. “shit,” he mutters under his breath, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he starts to stroke himself slow, eyes locked on the way her fingers dip between her thighs. he watches the tension in her body, the way her hips roll, the way her knees twitch just before the clip cuts. it’s barely 40 seconds long, and it has him already grinding into his palm like it’s been hours.

he strokes himself slow, thumb dragging over the head, using nothing but the weight of her movements to guide his pace, lazy and deliberate. he imagines her beneath him, same lighting, same breathless moans, but this time his hands are the ones between her thighs—his name the one falling off her tongue. his hips lift slightly off the chair, chasing friction, fucking into his fist in slow, tight rolls that match the rhythm she set on screen. his breath starts to fog the screen, but he doesn’t care. he leans in anyway, watching the arch of her back, the twitch of her thighs, every small tremble that gives her away. “who the fuck are you,” he whispers again, voice strained now, knuckles tightening with each stroke, precum leaking warm across his hand. he’s close, but not rushing—just breathing, just fucking into his hand like she’s watching him right back. and then it happens—just as his eyes start to flutter shut, just as his cock twitches against his grip—

buzz.

his phone lights up in the corner of the screen, and he blinks, chest still rising fast, fingers stilled mid-stroke as the name flashes clear.

────୨ৎ────

the car ride home is quiet, the soft hum of the engine the only thing keeping your mind from spinning completely out of control. you stare out the window the whole time, watching buildings blur into neighborhoods, storefronts into trees, your reflection ghosting back at you every time the light hits the glass just right. your body feels heavy in a way that isn’t just physical—like you left part of yourself back in that bed, wrapped in sheets and tangled in someone else’s breath. your thighs are still sticky, your hair still smells like his detergent, and your phone hasn’t stopped buzzing since he posted the video. you don’t check it. not yet. you know what’s waiting for you there. attention. validation. noise. and none of it feels like enough to quiet the ache still blooming beneath your ribs. you just want to be home. you just want your bed. you just want this night to stop echoing.

you thank the driver and climb out quietly, your fingers trembling as they grip the strap of your bag. the air hits different now—colder, clearer, like it’s trying to sober you up from whatever high your body’s still crashing down from. the building looms in front of you, too familiar, too grounding, and your feet feel too loud on the stairs as you climb. you don’t expect nari to still be awake. you don’t expect her to be sitting on the couch in her hoodie and shorts, blanket over her lap, hair tied up and a mug of tea forgotten on the table. her head lifts when she sees you, eyes widening, expression soft and sleepy but instantly alert. “hey,” she says gently, not like she’s prying—just like she knows. you blink once. twice. and then the tears start rising up too fast to swallow.

“i did it,” you say, voice cracking before you can catch it, dropping your bag to the floor like it’s the only thing keeping you upright. “i filmed with someone. like… all of it. everything.” your eyes sting as you move to sit beside her, pulling your legs up on the couch, hugging your knees to your chest like you’re trying to hold yourself together with your own arms. “it wasn’t supposed to feel like this,” you whisper, breath hitching as her hand comes down gently to rub your back, slow and reassuring. “it was supposed to just be money. content. like… a transaction. but then—he was…” you trail off, shaking your head. “he made me feel things i didn’t expect. he made me forget it was even being recorded.” nari doesn’t say anything yet. just keeps rubbing your back, waiting.

“he was sweet,” you continue, voice barely above a whisper now, “and careful. and so good—like, not just at the physical part, but… the way he looked at me. like he actually cared.” you laugh then, bitter and soft and full of disbelief. “and then i got dressed. and i left.” you press your palms to your face, shoulders trembling with the weight of everything crashing back down. “i told myself it was business. that’s what i kept saying in the car. it’s just business. but it didn’t feel like that. not for one second.” nari doesn’t rush you, doesn’t try to talk over your spiraling. she just pulls you in, arms wrapping around your shoulders as she rests her chin against the top of your head. “i didn’t want to admit it,” you breathe out, “but i think… i liked it too much.”

nari pulls back just enough to look at you, her brows drawn, voice soft and steady. “do you regret it?” she asks, and the question doesn’t come with judgment—just care. you pause, really thinking about it, your heart still aching, your body still buzzing from everything he touched, everything he said. you shake your head slowly, fingers tightening into the sleeves of your sweatshirt. “no,” you say. “i don’t regret it. i just don’t know what to do now.” the truth settles between you like steam—warm, fragile, lingering in the quiet space nari always creates for you. she nods once, like she understands. like she already knew. “then we figure it out,” she says. “together.”

you stay tucked into nari’s side for a while after that, the quiet between you comforting in a way that nothing else has been all night. her arm stays around your shoulders, warm and steady, thumb tracing small shapes against your arm like she’s grounding you with each pass. your breathing evens out eventually, and the ache in your chest settles—not gone, not even dulled, but wrapped in something that makes it easier to hold. the light from your phone catches your attention when it buzzes against the cushion beside you, and you glance down without thinking. the notification flashes once—

@jayafterhours replied to your message. 

your stomach flips. not from nerves, not from guilt, but something sharp and new and electric. you hesitate for half a second, then pick it up and unlock the screen.

the app opens instantly, and the message lights up clean beneath your own.

@jayafterhours: depends. how good are you at following directions?

it sits there like a dare. no emojis. no filler. just those words, sharp and smooth, wrapped in heat. you read it once. then again. and then a third time, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as something unfamiliar sparks low in your stomach. jay’s message isn’t careful or warm or soft. it’s cocky. bold. full of the kind of energy that doesn’t ask—it challenges. and it should be easy to ignore, should be nothing more than another opportunity—but after the way tonight left you exposed, this message feels like armor. like escape. like exactly what you need right now.

you’re still staring at jay’s message when your phone buzzes again—this time softer, quieter, like it knows it’s interrupting something private. nari’s still next to you, her hand resting gently on your arm, both of you folded into the silence after your confession. you don’t realize how tense your body has gotten until her thumb strokes over your sleeve, grounding you like she always does. “everything okay?” she asks softly, and you nod—too fast, too automatic. you glance down, thumb dragging over the edge of your screen, and your breath stalls when you see the name.

@heefreakshow: i’m outside

no punctuation. no lead-in. no warning. your stomach tightens. your chest tightens, breath catching hard as you blink at the message once, then twice, like it might go away if you look long enough. but it doesn’t. it just sits there—steady, waiting, pressing heavy against your ribs. “nari,” you say suddenly, voice softer now, “can you grab me that tea from earlier? i think it’s still on the counter.”

she nods easily, no questions, just kindness, slipping up from the couch and padding toward the kitchen in her socks. the second she’s out of sight, you grab your phone, the grip of it cold against your palm as you move toward the door on autopilot. your heart thuds unevenly as you reach for the handle, and for a moment, you hesitate—what are you even doing?—but your hand moves anyway. you open the door slowly, half-expecting to see no one there—to tell yourself you imagined it, that maybe the message wasn’t meant for you. but he’s there. standing just a few feet away in the hallway, hands in his jacket pockets, hood drawn halfway up like he’s trying to shrink into the shadows. his eyes meet yours instantly, and the world seems to stop moving. it’s the same face. the same mouth that kissed your shoulder, the same voice that whispered your name until you came undone. but it’s different now, too. softer. sadder. there’s something unreadable in his expression, something that pulls at you, something that says i’m not here just to see you—i’m here because i can’t stay away.

you step back without a word, letting him in with a tilt of your chin, your fingers tightening around the doorknob before you close it softly behind him. he’s still watching you—same mouth, same eyes, but something about him feels different now. more exposed. less in control. like the walls he held up on camera don’t follow him into your apartment. “i wasn’t gonna come,” he says after a second, voice quiet, husky at the edges, “but i couldn’t stop thinking about it. about you.” you freeze. not because of what he said—but how he said it. no teasing. no performative confidence. just the raw, stripped-down truth of a man standing in front of someone he wasn’t ready to lose.

“i don’t want to make this complicated,” he adds, eyes dipping away from yours for a heartbeat, “i know you’ve got your reasons. i know what this was supposed to be.” he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the envelope—thick, sealed, heavy with every cent the video made. “this is yours,” he says. “all of it.” your fingers curl instinctively, but you don’t reach for it. “i just…” he trails off, shaking his head like he hates himself for even being here. “i haven’t been able to stop thinking about how you sounded. how you felt. how you looked at me when the camera turned off.” his voice drops even lower, and when his eyes meet yours again, they’re raw. “you keep showing up in my head—and i don’t know how to turn it off.”

heeseung exhales like something inside him’s cracking open—like the silence you’re holding is slowly tearing through his chest. his fingers twitch at his side, still gripping the envelope he hasn’t let you take, like it’s the only anchor he has left. “i used to think people who said love at first sight were full of shit,” he says suddenly, voice low, almost ashamed of the words as they fall out. “like it was just something people told themselves when they were lonely. or desperate. or drunk.” his throat works around the lump sitting in it as his eyes flick back to yours, soft and vulnerable and scared. “but then i looked at you. and everything i thought i knew stopped making sense.” the envelope lowers. his hand opens. and now it’s not money between you—it’s him.

he steps forward slowly, carefully, like he’s afraid if he moves too fast you’ll vanish. you don’t breathe. don’t speak. your entire body’s frozen under the weight of what’s unfolding in front of you. his hand lifts, fingers brushing gently beneath your chin before tracing upward, knuckles grazing the line of your jaw. “you’re the most beautiful woman i’ve ever seen,” he murmurs, thumb pressing against your cheek like he’s trying to memorize the softness of your skin. “not just because of how you look. but the way you breathe. the way you speak. the way you left me speechless without even trying.” his forehead nearly touches yours now, his breath warm and unsteady between you. “i don’t want this to be about the fucking camera anymore.”

“let me in,” he whispers, and it’s so quiet, so desperate, that it barely holds itself together. “let me know you. i’m not asking for everything. i just want… something. something real.” your lips part, but no sound comes out—your chest rising hard, your pulse loud in your ears, your mind too full to form words. his eyes flick down to your mouth, then back up, searching you, waiting for permission you don’t know how to give. you could push him away. you could lie. you could tell him this is too much, too fast. but before you can speak—he leans in.

his mouth presses to yours with a softness that stuns you—nothing rushed, nothing demanding. just him. trembling, open, real. his hand cups the side of your face like he’s afraid you’ll break beneath him, his lips moving slowly against yours like he’s trying to tell you everything he doesn’t have the words for. your breath hitches. your lashes flutter. and for one suspended moment, there is no camera. no contract. no inbox. just him. and the way his mouth is kissing you like you’re the first thing that’s ever made sense

his lips move against yours with an aching kind of care, like he doesn’t want to rush it—like he wants to memorize every part of your mouth before the moment slips away. his hand tilts your chin just slightly, thumb brushing along the edge of your jaw as his other hand hovers at your waist, not pulling, not forcing—just holding, like you’re something he’s scared to lose. you lean into him before you can stop yourself, your fingers brushing lightly against his chest, catching in the fabric of his hoodie like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded. the kiss deepens naturally, your mouths molding together with more weight, more heat, until his breath is tangled with yours. he exhales shakily into the kiss, lips parting just enough to let his tongue flick against yours, soft and slow and searching. you gasp quietly, your body pressing just a little closer, like the gravity between you both is impossible to resist. his thumb traces beneath your cheekbone, slow and reverent, like he still can’t believe you’re letting him do this. everything inside you is warm and light and crumbling.

the taste of him lingers sweet on your lips, heat blooming through your body in waves as the kiss stretches out longer than you mean it to—longer than it should. his tongue slides against yours again, a little deeper this time, a little more sure, like he’s just starting to believe this is real. your fingers clutch at the edge of his hoodie, pulling him closer without thinking, your chest pressing flush to his, your breath stuttering against his lips. you hear the softest, tiniest sound from him—almost a whimper, half-swallowed, too quiet to be on purpose. and it makes your stomach twist. makes your knees feel weak. his mouth moves lower, dragging to the corner of your lips, then kissing softly along the edge of your jaw like he can’t help himself. and it’s all too much. too good. too full of feeling you’ve been trying to deny since the second you walked out of his bed.

your hand lifts to his chest to ground yourself, fingers splayed over the beat of his heart that’s racing just as hard as yours. heeseung’s breath hitches, and he pulls back just enough to look at you—his mouth swollen, eyes dark, lips still parted. “i mean it,” he says again, voice rough and wrecked and so soft. “i want to know you.” your heart stutters. your mouth opens—but before either of you can speak again—

“y/n?”

the voice comes like a slap. bright. clear. and cutting straight through the warmth like a blade.

you freeze.

your body jerks back like a switch flipped under your skin, like your name being said aloud burned straight through the fantasy. you stumble out of his grip, lips still parted, breathing hard, your fingers releasing his hoodie so fast it feels like you just realized what you were holding. your eyes go wide as your mind scrambles to catch up, to remember where you are, who you are, who is in your apartment right now. “shit,” you whisper under your breath, heart hammering like it’s trying to punch through your ribs, like your pulse forgot how to settle. heeseung straightens a little, blinking, his expression shifting fast—from warmth to confusion to that same guarded tension you saw at the door. you turn quickly toward the hallway, barely able to process what you’re supposed to do next. “just a second!” you call back to nari, your voice thin and breathless, like you’re trying not to sound like you were just kissed like someone’s favorite memory.

she doesn’t answer right away, but her footsteps pad closer from the kitchen—slow, unaware, still far enough that you can breathe but not for long. you whip around to face him, panic laced in every inch of your movement. “you have to go,” you say, too fast, too tight, the words leaving your mouth before you can soften them. heeseung’s brows pull together, the smallest flicker of hurt in his eyes before he catches himself. “y/n,” he says gently, his hand half-lifted like he wants to reach for you again, but he doesn’t. “please. don’t shut me out again.” your throat tightens, your fingers clenching at your sides. you can’t do this right now. not with your roommate three steps away. not when your lips still taste like his name.

“this was a mistake,” you say, though your voice wavers at the end of it, and you hate how easily it betrays you. heeseung flinches—not dramatically, not with words, just the subtle shift of someone trying not to react to a wound they didn’t expect. “it didn’t feel like one,” he says, barely above a whisper, but there’s weight in it, something heavy that sticks in your chest. you open your mouth, but no words come out—just air, just panic, just silence. the warmth from his touch is still clinging to your skin, but it doesn’t feel soft anymore. it feels like a question you don’t have an answer to. you step back once, then again. and he takes the hint.

“i’ll go,” he says, voice dull now, and you hate it—you hate the way he sounds when he says it, like you’re undoing something that hadn’t even started yet. he moves toward the door without another word, his shoulders square, steps quiet like he doesn’t want to make it harder than it already is. your breath catches as he opens it, just wide enough to slip out, and for a second you almost call his name. almost. but then he’s gone.

and when the door clicks shut, it’s like your whole body deflates.

you don’t move at first—not even after the door clicks shut, not even after your heartbeat starts to slow. you’re frozen there, staring at the space he left behind, like the warmth of his presence is still lingering in the air, clinging to your skin. your lips are still parted. your hands are still shaking. and your thoughts feel like they’re spinning too fast to hold onto anything solid. you press your fingers to your mouth, just once, like you’re trying to erase the kiss from your skin—but all it does is make you remember how it felt. how soft he was. how much he meant it. and how badly you wanted to believe it.

“hey,” nari’s voice calls gently from behind, her steps slow and light like she’s trying not to startle you. “who was that?” her question isn’t sharp, not suspicious—just curious, just concerned. you inhale too fast, turning toward her with a smile you have to force into place, swallowing down the lump in your throat. “no one,” you say, and the words sound brittle even to your own ears. nari tilts her head slightly, stopping just a few feet away, her gaze soft but a little puzzled. “it sounded like someone was here. you okay?” she asks, her eyes searching your face like she already knows the answer isn’t yes.

you nod too quickly. lie too easily. “yeah,” you say, waving it off like it’s nothing, like your hands aren’t trembling from the ghost of a kiss that’s still burning through you. “just… someone dropping something off.” nari hums, unconvinced but not pushing, and moves past you toward the living room again. your shoulders fall the second she turns her back, the pressure of pretending scraping down your spine like sandpaper. you follow her slowly, your feet heavy, your mind louder than it’s ever been. part of you wants to tell her everything—to let it spill out in messy pieces like you did before—but the rest of you can’t. not yet. not when it’s still sitting in your chest like it means something more than it should.

you sink back onto the couch, your hands folding in your lap, trying not to feel the way your heart’s still pulling in opposite directions. “you want me to warm your tea again?” nari asks from the kitchen, casual, kind, unaware of how badly you need something—anything—to anchor you right now. “yeah,” you manage, your voice hoarse. “please.” she hums again, and the clinking of the mug hitting the counter fills the silence while you reach for your phone like a reflex, screen lighting up again with the last message you received.

@jayafterhours: depends. how good are you at following directions?

your thumb hovers over it for a second. just long enough to wonder what would happen if you said yes.

────୨ৎ────

jay could hear your footsteps before the knock even came—soft, steady, unhurried as you walked up the steps to his door. he didn’t move right away. just stood there, watching the blur of your shadow shift beneath the crack, listening to the quiet rhythm of your shoes against the concrete. when your knuckles finally tapped against the wood—quick, confident, not too firm—it echoed straight through his chest. and for some reason, his breath caught. he hadn’t even seen you yet, but something in the way you approached already had him standing a little straighter.

he opened the door slowly, not expecting much—just a girl, a creator, someone behind a screen turned in front of a lens. but then you were there. standing in front of him like you’d always belonged in his doorway. and for a second, jay couldn’t fucking breathe. it wasn’t just the way you looked, though that was enough to throw him off—lips bare, lashes soft, skin kissed with the kind of natural glow that didn't need lighting. it was the way you carried it. cool, calm, but not cocky. like you knew he’d be staring—and you didn’t mind one bit.

he had no idea what to say at first, and that wasn’t like him. so instead, he stepped back. made room. let you walk into his space while he held the door and tried not to think about the way your hoodie rode up just enough when you passed. “glad you came,” he said finally, voice lower than intended, the heat behind it already showing. and still, you didn’t say much—just nodded, eyes flicking over his apartment like you were already deciding if you liked being here.

and jay? yeah, he was already fucked.

he invites you to sit, his tone smooth and unbothered, like this is all routine. your eyes drift over the table—neat dishes laid out already, plates warm, silverware set clean and deliberate, like he’d done this more than once in his head before you actually showed up. the chairs are tucked in, a folded napkin on each side, and it’s not fancy, not showy—just thoughtful. the kind of quiet preparation that says he was expecting you. he gestures toward the one closest to the corner, letting you choose your seat, and only after you lower yourself does he finally move to the opposite side. the room smells like something savory—spiced, warm, familiar—but you’re too focused on the way he looks across the table. like he’s already unwrapping you with his eyes and hasn’t even touched you yet.

“i wasn’t sure what you’d like,” he says, sliding one of the plates toward you, “so i made something safe.” he says it with a shrug, casual, but the corners of his mouth twitch like he knows it still matters. you glance down at the dish—pasta, something seasoned and steaming lightly, nothing too heavy but just enough to show he gave a shit. the table feels too quiet for a second, but jay fills it easily, leaning forward with one forearm against the wood like he’s settling into something easy. “before we get into the rest,” he says, tone steady, “i just wanna know a few things about you.” you blink, not expecting that—not after the texts, not after the message that brought you here.

“what should i call you?” he asks, voice low but not demanding, like he wants to give you space to answer how you want. “real name, nickname, something else?” he waits. doesn’t press. just watches you with those sharp, dark eyes like he’s already cataloging every answer for later. you tell him your name—and he nods once, storing it somewhere behind the calm set of his mouth. then he asks another. “what’s your favorite ice cream?” and when you raise a brow, he shrugs again. “everybody’s got one. mine’s pistachio. but i don’t expect you to take me seriously after saying that out loud.”

the edge of a smile touches your mouth before you can stop it, and you hate the way it catches his attention immediately—like he notices everything, even the small shifts. he asks more. not deep things. just enough to make you talk. favorite time of day. worst habit. music you only listen to when you’re alone. it’s disarming. gentle. like he’s peeling you open slowly without ever putting his hands on you. and it throws you off balance, because none of it feels like an act. he’s not trying to seduce you. he’s just trying to see you. and somehow, that’s worse.

he doesn’t look at your chest. doesn’t stare at your legs. his eyes stay on your face like he wants to memorize it before the lighting and the angles and the camera strip it down. “i like knowing things,” he says after your third answer, voice quieter now, like it’s a secret he’s only saying once. “makes what happens later feel less like performance. more like chemistry.” your breath catches slightly, the implication not subtle but not crude. and he knows it. his mouth curves slowly around his next word. “boundaries,” he says, leaning back finally, like he’s shifting gears. “let’s talk about them.”

you sit a little straighter at the word—boundaries—as if the reminder helps you find your footing again. it feels like the only thing you can control in a space where everything else is already moving faster than you expected. jay watches you with that same measured gaze, not pushing, not crowding, just waiting. and somehow, that’s what makes it harder to speak. you inhale slowly, letting the words settle in your mouth before you release them. “i’m okay with most things,” you say carefully, voice quiet but steady. “just… not my face. i don’t want it shown.” your fingers curl slightly around the edge of your seat as the words leave you, like saying them out loud solidifies them in a way that’s permanent.

jay doesn’t blink. doesn’t shift. doesn’t even flinch. he just nods once, slow and certain. “easy,” he says simply. “i’ve worked around that before.” you blink, a little surprised at how quickly he agreed. “you can stay cropped, blurred, or angled out. whatever you’re comfortable with.” his tone doesn’t falter—there’s no question in it, no teasing, no hint of disbelief. just clean acceptance. and that, somehow, makes your chest tighten. “i don’t do spit,” you add suddenly, a little sharper now, like you need to draw one more line just to see if he’ll cross it. “noted,” he replies, just as calm.

“what about contact?” he asks after a beat, fingers tapping lightly against the table, not impatient—just thoughtful. “hands? mouths? toys? giving, receiving?” it’s the first time the words sound even remotely intimate, and it sends a ripple down your spine, but you don’t let it show. you answer carefully, listing what you’re okay with, what you’d rather avoid, and he takes it all in without interrupting. not once does he smirk. not once does he turn it into something dirtier than it needs to be. he just listens. and somehow that makes your pulse pick up more than anything he could’ve said.

“do you have a safeword?” he asks next, voice low but clear, no edge to it—just importance. you hesitate for a second, your teeth pressing gently into your bottom lip as your mind flips through words that feel right. something simple. something soft. something you’ll remember even when your thoughts are a mess. “peach,” you say finally, your voice barely above a breath. “if i say peach, we stop.” you don’t expect the way his eyes soften at that, like he wasn’t just listening—he heard you. he nods once, firm and sure. “peach it is,” he replies, voice quiet but absolute. “say it once, and everything ends. no questions asked.”

he leans back, letting the quiet settle. “anything else?” he asks, tone a little lighter now, like he’s giving you space to say no. your fingers twitch against the edge of your thigh. your heart’s still racing, your head still loud. but you shake your head slowly. “not right now,” you murmur. jay gives you a long look. not unreadable—but quiet. measured. like he’s still trying to piece you together without rushing it. and when he speaks again, his voice is lower, gentler. “i don’t want you to just feel safe,” he says. “i want you to feel seen.”

jay stands from the table slowly, pushing his chair in with one hand and tilting his head toward the hallway. “come with me,” he says simply, his tone softer now—less like a command, more like an invitation. you follow without speaking, your footsteps quieter this time as you trail behind him, your body still warm from the way he looked at you. the deeper you move into his apartment, the more the quiet hum of something personal settles in. the space is open but not cold—walls painted a cool gray, dark wood floors that soften each step, and framed black-and-white prints spaced carefully along the hall. everything feels… intentional. not staged, not overly curated—just clean, calm, and lived-in, like he only keeps what matters.

there’s a faint scent lingering in the air, something earthy and expensive—maybe sandalwood, maybe cedar, something low and smooth that fits him perfectly. the hallway passes a spare room, its door cracked open just enough for you to see a neat workspace with a monitor, ring light, and perfectly wound cords—no mess, no clutter. he’s the kind of guy who wipes surfaces even if they’re already clean. who arranges things by size without realizing it. and now that you’re walking through it, it makes sense. he feels like someone who controls the chaos before it ever starts. someone who doesn’t just direct scenes, but knows how to curate them down to the last breath.

when he opens the door to his room, he doesn’t say anything—just steps inside and waits for you to follow. and you do. slow, careful, your eyes scanning the space as you enter. the room is warm in tone, dimly lit by a lamp in the corner with amber-tinted light that makes the shadows look softer. the bedding is dark navy, sheets smooth and taut, a throw blanket folded at the edge with precision. there’s a small table near the wall with a speaker, a single coaster, and a lighter next to an unused candle. everything is exactly where it should be—but not in a clinical way. more like someone who lives in silence and pays attention to what it tells him.

the tripod is already set up across the room, angled down slightly toward the bed, lens cap off but nothing recording yet. it doesn’t feel threatening. just… real. you were expecting something more dramatic. lights. backdrops. fake velvet. but this is something else. this feels personal. honest. quiet. and maybe that’s what makes your pulse start to rise in your throat again. jay walks past you slowly, crossing the room to the dresser, and opens the top drawer without saying a word. you watch him carefully, still trying to piece together what kind of man sets a camera like that and still remembers to cook you lunch.

when he turns around, he’s holding something small and black, the shimmer of silk catching the light as he walks back toward you. the bag in his hand is delicate—drawstring ribbon, gold threading, and you already know what it is before he offers it out. “for you,” he says, holding it between you like it’s something important. “to wear.” you blink up at him, but his gaze doesn’t waver, doesn’t falter. “i saw it in a shop the day after i found your profile,” he adds quietly. “wasn’t looking for anything. just… saw it. and thought it would suit you.”

you give him a slight smile before you speak, “give me a minute?” you say, voice quiet but sure. jay’s eyes meet yours again, and this time he smiles without speaking. just a small tilt of his head, an unspoken take your time. you close the bathroom door quietly behind you, the soft click echoing louder than it should in your ears. the small silk bag is still clutched in your hand, your palm warm and damp against the fabric like you’re holding something much more dangerous. the light in here is brighter—clean, warm-toned, flattering—but it only makes your nerves feel sharper. the mirror reflects back a version of yourself that looks steady, calm, composed… but your chest is tight. your skin buzzes beneath your clothes. and as you lay the bag down on the counter, you realize this moment feels familiar. too familiar.

your breath slows as your fingers reach for the hem of your hoodie, pulling it up and over your head with a slow drag, your tank top following right after. you fold them both neatly beside the sink, more out of nervous habit than care. and for a second, you’re standing there in just your underwear, heart thrumming low in your stomach, staring at your reflection like it’s someone else’s body. you’ve been here before. not in this room, not with these lights—but in the feeling. the anticipation. the tight pull in your gut. the sting of wanting to impress someone who shouldn’t mean anything.

you think of heeseung. how it felt when you changed for him. how you stood in your room, under dim lighting, slipping on something you picked while he waited for you just down the hall. how it wasn’t supposed to feel like it did. how you thought it would just be performance. and it wasn’t. it was heat. it was vulnerability. it was dangerous. and now here you are again—different place, different man, but the same twisting ache curling around your spine. why does it feel the same? why does your body keep falling into this rhythm like it wants to be seen?

you open the silk bag slowly, the lingerie soft and light in your hands as you lift it out. black lace, just like he said. a deep plunge neckline, sheer mesh sides, satin ribbon at the center. the fabric is cool against your fingertips, delicate enough to feel like it might tear if you don’t handle it carefully. it’s beautiful. subtle. nothing flashy—but undeniably seductive. you step into it slowly, one leg at a time, pulling the straps over your shoulders, adjusting the fit around your waist. and as it settles against your skin, molding to your body like it was meant for you, you feel something crack open behind your ribs.

you shouldn’t like this. not the way you do. not the way your thighs press together, not the way your breath comes shallower, not the way you want to step out there and watch jay’s face when he sees you in this. you shouldn’t want to impress him—not after how confused you still feel about the last time. about heeseung. about what it meant, and what it didn’t. but your skin burns all the same. your hands tremble slightly as you fix your hair, as you smooth the hem, as you give yourself one last look in the mirror. “just business,” you whisper to your reflection. and even you don’t believe it.

you open the door slowly, just enough to slip through, your hands brushing down your sides one last time as you step back into the low light of his bedroom. the air feels thicker out here—warmer, heavier, like it’s been waiting for you. the door clicks gently behind you, and your bare feet make the softest sound against the floor as you move forward, your breath caught somewhere between your throat and your chest. you don’t look at him right away. not yet. you don’t want to see his face until you’re standing still, until your heart isn’t racing so fast it might show on your skin. but you feel it the moment his eyes land on you.

jay goes completely still—like the sight of you knocks the air out of him. he was sitting at the edge of the bed, adjusting the tripod when the door opened, but now he’s frozen, hands resting loosely on his thighs, lips parted just slightly as his gaze drags up your body. he doesn’t speak. doesn’t smile. he just looks—like you’re something he’s only seen in his head before this. something better in person. his eyes move slowly, taking in every line of lace, every sheer inch of skin, every soft curve the lingerie hugs like it was tailored just for you. and when your gaze finally lifts to meet his, he looks like he’s trying not to say something reckless.

“fuck,” he murmurs under his breath, the word falling out like it escaped before he could hold it back. he shifts forward just slightly, elbows resting on his knees now, fingers loosely laced like he needs to stay grounded. “you really wore it.” there’s something in his voice—something tight, restrained, too controlled to be casual. his eyes keep flicking between your mouth and your hips like he can’t pick which part of you he wants to touch first. “looks better than i imagined,” he adds, and it doesn’t sound like a compliment—it sounds like a confession. low, almost reverent.

you try to stay still under the weight of his stare, but your skin feels too hot, too bare, too sensitive. his gaze alone feels like it’s dragging fingers down your sides, smoothing over the lace, sinking into places he hasn’t even touched yet. he straightens a little, breath deeper now, like he’s forcing himself to remember why you’re both here. “can i fix the straps?” he asks suddenly, voice softer now, eyes flicking toward your shoulder where the delicate black lace has slipped just slightly out of place. “just the straps.” his tone is calm, careful—asking not assuming.

you nod once, and he rises without another word, his steps slow and deliberate as he closes the space between you. he moves behind you, close enough that you can feel the heat of his body at your back but not close enough to touch—not yet. his fingers reach up gently, grazing your skin as he slides the strap higher, smoothing it back into place with practiced ease. then the other. slow. patient. like he’s putting something sacred back where it belongs. “perfect,” he murmurs once, voice brushing warm against your neck, and then he steps back, keeping his hands to himself.

you can still feel him, even after he’s gone.

“lie down for me,” he says again, a little softer this time, like he’s coaxing the words past your skin. you move slowly, climbing up onto the bed with steady breaths, the lace hugging your body shifting with every motion. the sheets are smooth and cool beneath your palms, your body sinking slightly into the mattress as you stretch out along the center. jay watches from the edge of the room, his movements calm, practiced, but not rushed. nothing about this is rushed. he moves like he has all the time in the world to break you open piece by piece.

he disappears for a second, and you hear the soft click of a switch. the lighting shifts immediately—warmer, dimmer, all shadows and low gold. intimate. like candlelight caught in motion. and then, music. something slow, rich, vibrating low through the walls. it starts with a soft hum, something sensual and aching underneath, followed by a voice thick with emotion, sliding across the beat like a secret. the melody winds around your body before he even touches you. it’s moody, seductive, dangerous. like desire in the form of a song. like something you shouldn’t be listening to unless you’re ready to fall apart.

you don’t realize you’re holding your breath until the mattress dips beside you. jay’s back now, his body lowering beside yours, his hand brushing along your forearm with quiet intention. in his hand—black leather cuffs, soft-lined and already adjusted to your size. he doesn’t speak, doesn’t explain. he just takes your wrist, gently, lifting it with the kind of care that makes your breath catch, and buckles the first strap around you. the second follows. secure. firm. not uncomfortable—just enough to remind you that your hands aren’t yours anymore.

“you good?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. you nod again. “say it,” he murmurs, pausing just before the fabric meets your eyes. “i’m good,” you breathe. then the blindfold. satin, black, impossibly soft. he holds it above your eyes for a moment, his voice barely above the hum of the song when he speaks. “say it again,” he murmurs. “i’m good,” you whisper, lips parted, chest rising. and with that, the world goes dark. the music swells. your body buzzes.

you feel everything more sharply now—the way the sheet slides against your thighs, the soft brush of air across your stomach, the subtle shift of the mattress as he stands and steps away. the music pulses like a heartbeat, slow and full of heat, the vocals dragging out in a way that makes your lungs feel tight. and then, the faint sound of glass. a bottle being unstoppered. something being warmed. your body tenses, even as your breath grows slower, heavier. you're not afraid. but you are open. waiting.

the first drop lands just below your collarbone. warm. sharp. a sting that spreads and melts as fast as it came. your mouth parts in a silent gasp, your back arching as the sensation ripples across your chest. it’s followed by another—slower this time, deeper. your body jerks slightly against the cuffs, your breath catching as heat coils low in your stomach. and then, his voice—quiet, close, wrecked in the best way. “too much?” he asks, his breath ghosting over your shoulder. you shake your head, pulse thudding wildly beneath your skin. “good girl,” he murmurs, and the next drop comes before you’re ready.

his fingers hover just above your ribs, tracing the fresh trail of wax he’s left behind, not touching—not quite—just following the shape of the cooling heat like he’s painting with his breath. your back arches slightly, hips pressing deeper into the mattress as your bound wrists tug gently against the cuffs. the blindfold robs you of sight, but it sharpens everything else—the sound of the song still melting through the speakers, the rhythm low and slow, the singer’s voice drawn out in pure seduction. the room smells like warmth, like candle wax and skin, like want. your skin tingles in every direction, but he hasn’t even touched you where it aches the most. not once.

“you’re so sensitive,” jay says quietly, voice curved with something dark, something proud. he lets one fingertip finally graze over a spot where the wax has cooled—a slow, deliberate line that drags across your sternum, up the swell of your chest. your stomach clenches, a whimper caught in your throat as he drags it downward again, pausing just above your navel. “you feel everything, don’t you?” he murmurs, like he’s marveling, like he’s falling in love with the way your body moves beneath his. “but i haven’t even touched you.” his voice is warm honey over ice, and it makes your thighs twitch.

another pour. hotter this time. it hits just beside your hip, then crawls inward, a path of liquid fire that fades into a cruel, pulsing throb. your toes curl, breath catching hard in your throat as your back arches again, body fully open and helpless to the rhythm he’s set. “please—” you breathe, voice thin and unsure, but you don’t know what you’re asking for yet. “please what?” jay’s mouth is near your ear now, close enough that you can feel his smile. “you don’t even know what you want, baby.” he laughs, soft and low, and you swear the sound is almost worse than the heat.

his hands return—not between your legs, not to your breasts—just to your waist, where he spreads his fingers slowly along your sides like he’s claiming you inch by inch. the pads of his thumbs rub light circles into the bone beneath your skin, grounding you, teasing you, keeping you right where he wants you. “you take pain so well,” he murmurs, and then another line of wax pours across the top of your thigh—too close. too close, but not close enough. your whole body trembles, wrists straining against the cuffs as you gasp out his name. not loud. not sharp. just needy.

you feel it before you realize what it is—his breath on your inner thigh, his hands pressing your legs gently open farther, farther, like he’s worshipping the space between them. but still, he doesn’t touch. “i could make you come with just my voice,” he says, not cocky—confident. capable. and you believe him. because your body is already falling apart, already pulsing around nothing, already begging him without the words. “but i want you to ask me.” his lips brush the inside of your leg, not a kiss—just air. “i want you to beg me.”

your pride tries to hold on. it claws at your throat, tries to press your mouth shut. but your body betrays you. your hips lift without permission, your moan slipping free like it’s been waiting for this moment. “jay—please,” you gasp, voice raw now. “please, fuck, please touch me.” it’s broken. breathless. real. and it’s everything he was waiting for.

he doesn’t give you a warning. doesn’t make a show of it. he just moves—fluid and silent, settling between your thighs like he’s done it before in a dream he’s finally gotten to touch. your skin is slick with heat, glowing with wax and want, and he breathes you in like your scent alone is enough to wreck him. his hands slide beneath your thighs, palms warm, strong, tilting your hips upward just slightly so you’re perfectly open, perfectly framed, perfectly his. the first brush of his mouth is featherlight, almost nothing—just lips grazing over your inner thigh, barely touching your cunt, just enough to make you sob through gritted teeth. “so fucking pretty,” he murmurs against your skin.

his hands return to your waist without a sound, no command or question leaving his lips—just touch, warm and steady as his fingers slide over the edge of the lace that still clings to your body. you twitch slightly beneath him, the blindfold making every brush of his fingertips feel sharper, more exposed, and when his thumbs dip beneath the fabric, you realize what he’s doing—but you don’t stop him. he moves slowly, deliberately, not yanking or rushing, but peeling the lingerie off your skin like it’s something delicate, something earned. the lace folds away from your hips, dragged down inch by inch, baring more of your skin to the air, and your chest rises involuntarily when he shifts the straps off your shoulders. he eases the piece down your body, taking the time to trace every inch that’s revealed—his knuckles grazing your ribs, the curve of your waist, the crease of your thighs. when it finally slips free from your ankles, you feel more naked than you’ve ever been.

his hands return just as slowly, palms spreading up the backs of your thighs before gliding to your hips, like he’s reacquainting himself with skin he’d already claimed. he doesn’t speak. he doesn’t rush. he just takes in the sight of you—bare, breathless, bound beneath him, blind to everything but the beat of your own heart and the sound of his breathing. the song continues behind him, velvet-rich and dangerous, the lyrics curling through the shadows of the room like temptation: “bring your body, baby…” your lips part, your legs twitch, but he doesn’t move to fill the space between them—not yet. he just touches. lets the pads of his fingers skim the edges of your thighs, your stomach, the sides of your breasts, without truly settling anywhere. just to feel you.

the air is thick now, heavy with unspoken tension, and your body is buzzing, aching, completely at his mercy. you don’t know what’s coming next—his mouth, his fingers, another pour of wax—but you know that whatever it is, he’ll give it to you slowly. your skin still remembers the sting of the heat from earlier, the way your body pulsed with every drop, and now—now—without anything between you, it feels like every inch of your body is begging to be touched. your wrists flex against the cuffs, more reflex than restraint, and your breath comes out in a shaky exhale you hadn’t meant to release. his hands settle on your thighs again, fingers curling gently as he pushes them wider.

he licks a long, slow stripe through your folds that has your back arching off the bed. it’s not just the contact—it’s the way he does it, the reverence in his pace, the softness in his grip, like he’s worshipping something he thought he’d never be allowed to touch.

he doesn’t rush. he doesn’t groan. he doesn’t perform for the camera. he just devours. his tongue works in long, controlled strokes, collecting slick like it’s the only thing he needs to breathe, licking deep and purposeful like he’s trying to memorize how you taste. your head spins beneath the blindfold, your hands tugging uselessly against the cuffs as your body trembles beneath the weight of everything. you can’t see him, but you can feel the way he watches every twitch, every gasp, every time your thighs clench in his hands. he hums against you, not loud, not obnoxious—just pleased, like he’s satisfied with how quickly you’re unraveling under him. and when his lips wrap around your clit, sucking slow and tight, you cry out so loud it barely sounds like your voice.

you’re so close so fast, too fast, and he knows it. knows because he slows down again—easing the pressure, dragging his tongue in lazy circles that make your hips jerk in frustration. “not yet,” he breathes into your skin, and it doesn’t even sound like a tease. it sounds like a rule. like a command you’re meant to obey without argument. the music is still playing behind him—“just let me motherfucking love you…”—but it’s all a blur now, a background heartbeat to the way he laps you back up like he missed you between each breath. his fingers trail up your thigh slowly, slick with the wax he laid earlier, and it’s not until one dips between your folds that your breath stutters in your chest.

he slides in with ease, your body more than ready, and his tongue doesn’t stop. his mouth stays on your clit, soft and sucking, drawing it between his lips while he curls his finger just right, just enough to make your vision flash white behind the blindfold. “fuck—jay—” you gasp, thighs shaking now, unable to stay still under the rhythm of his mouth and hand. “please, I’m gonna—I need to—” your words dissolve into moans, into nonsense, because he doesn’t let up. he keeps going, steady and cruel, another finger joining the first with a wet slide that makes you whimper like a fucking prayer. he groans low when he feels you clench, not for show, but from hunger—he likes how tightly your body reacts to him. he lives for it.

you’re falling apart now. your hips are bucking, your legs twitching, your fingers digging into empty air as you gasp through another moan that cracks at the edges. “please let me—please let me cum,” you beg, your voice wrecked and wet and half-sobbing. and only then—only then—does jay lift his head. his fingers stay inside you, slow and curling, keeping you trembling just at the edge while his mouth ghosts over your thigh. “you want to cum?” he asks, voice low, ragged, almost teasing—but not cruel. “then beg louder, babydoll. i want the camera to hear how fucking desperate you are.”

his mouth returns without a word, settling between your thighs like he belongs there, like there’s nowhere else in the world he wants to be. you feel the soft exhale of his breath fan across your soaked folds, the warmth of it a cruel tease before the first drag of his tongue lands—slow, deliberate, curling through you like he’s savoring the very first taste. your entire body jolts against the cuffs, your mouth falling open in a choked moan as he licks again—longer this time, deeper. he just devours, each stroke of his tongue more intentional than the last, like he’s studying you. like he wants to memorize what makes your thighs twitch, what makes your breath skip, what makes you gasp his name with that tiny shake in your voice.

your legs are trembling already, wide open and held there by his firm grip, and when his lips wrap around your clit—sucking slow, tight, deep—you feel your whole body lurch off the bed. the blindfold only makes it worse—makes it better—because you can’t see it coming, can’t predict how fast or how gentle he’ll be, can’t do anything but feel everything all at once. “fuck—jay—” you cry, and he only hums in response, the vibration shooting straight through your core. his tongue works circles around your clit, soft and teasing, then firmer, faster, until your hips are grinding helplessly into his mouth, searching for more friction, more pressure, more anything. he pulls back just enough to slide a finger into you—then two—slow and curling, the stretch perfect, unbearable, perfect.

you’re right there. right fucking there. your walls pulsing around his fingers, your moans growing louder, messier, no longer soft or shy but wrecked, raw, real. your hips rock into him without grace, your body flushed and burning, but just as your orgasm starts to crest—he pulls away. completely. his mouth, his fingers, his heat—all gone. and you sob. a real, desperate sob that breaks out of your throat without warning, your back arching as your hands pull helplessly against the cuffs. “no—please—please,” you gasp, voice shaking. “i was so close—don’t stop—please don’t stop—”

he gives you no mercy. not yet. he returns to you slowly, his mouth brushing your clit with a soft kiss before his tongue drags over it again—firm this time, relentless. his fingers reenter you with no hesitation, curling with perfect rhythm, and now he doesn’t let up. he fucks you with his mouth like it’s what he was made to do, devouring every sound you make, every clench, every broken cry that escapes you. “you gonna cum for me now, babydoll?” he breathes against your skin. “gonna give it to me this time?” your only answer is a gasp—then a moan—then your whole body snaps, orgasm crashing over you so hard you cry out his name, thighs shaking violently, breath punching out of your lungs like it’s been ripped from your core.

he doesn’t stop. not when you cum. not when you beg. not when your voice breaks. he slows only slightly, mouth and fingers still working you through it—drawing it out, dragging wave after wave from your twitching body until it becomes too much, too sharp, too deep. tears are slipping from beneath the blindfold now, your voice hoarse as you sob through your second orgasm, overstimulated, unable to breathe without moaning. your cunt clenches around his fingers again, your cries turning into pleas as your thighs try to close, but he doesn’t let you. he holds you open. makes you take it. makes you fall apart again and again and again.

when he finally lets up, his fingers slip from you with a wet drag, and you collapse into the sheets—limp, slick, ruined. your chest rises in shaky pulls of air, your skin still twitching in places you didn’t know could feel, your wrists tugging instinctively against the cuffs even though you’re not trying to move. he doesn’t speak, not right away. you feel the bed shift beneath you as he moves, crawling up your body with a slowness that makes you ache in a different way. he’s not touching you—not yet—but his presence hovers, warm and close and overwhelming. then, you feel it. his breath against your mouth. the faintest graze of lips against yours. not a kiss. not quite.

your breath catches like a sob. you lean up the smallest amount, chasing the touch you can’t see, but his mouth barely brushes yours again and then pulls away. it’s cruel. gentle, but cruel. “please,” you whisper, voice so hoarse it barely comes out. your lips part again, desperate, trembling. “kiss me… please…” and finally, finally, he gives you what you ask for.

his lips press into yours, slow and full, his hand cradling the side of your face like you’re something breakable, like he wants to hold you still while he kisses the breath right out of you. there’s nothing rushed in it—no heat, no show. just intimacy. just need. he kisses you like he’s been thinking about it since the moment he opened the door. your legs fall open again, welcoming the weight of him, your body leaning into every inch of contact like you’ve been starving for it. his kiss deepens, tongue slipping slow and warm into your mouth, and you whimper under the blindfold, too fucked-out to hide how much you want it.

when he pulls away, you feel cold for only a second before you hear it—the low rustle of clothing, the quiet unbuckle of a belt, the unmistakable slide of denim down long, toned legs. your body tenses with anticipation, still aching in the best way, still sensitive and exposed and so ready for whatever comes next. you don’t need to see to know he’s watching you—all of you—the flush of your skin, the tremble in your thighs, the slick between your legs that’s already waiting for him. you hear the shift of fabric, then silence. and then, the weight of him between your legs again.

thick, warm, heavy against your thigh.

the mattress dips beneath his knees as he moves in closer, and your breath catches when you feel it—him, thick and heavy, dragging slowly along your inner thigh. he doesn’t push forward, doesn’t press in. just lets the head of his cock rest there, warm and slick against your oversensitive skin. the moment it brushes your folds—barely catching—you cry out, hips jolting up in instinct. but he doesn’t move. just stays right there, not giving you anything more.

he watches the way you strain beneath him, every inch of you open and ready, your wrists twitching against the cuffs like you’d reach for him if you could. your blindfold is soaked now, a tear trail drying on your cheek, your mouth parted in silent desperation. he slides the tip down slowly, catching just slightly at your entrance, then pulls back—barely there, not enough, and yet you whimper like it’s breaking you. he repeats the motion again, slower this time, teasing over your clit and down, dragging himself through your slick folds with lazy precision. and all the while? he says nothing. doesn’t praise you. doesn’t mock you. just lets you feel every aching inch without giving in.

your body bucks, hips rolling, trying to take more than he’s giving, but his hands move to your waist—firm, steady, holding you still. “please,” you gasp, voice cracked and wrecked. “please, jay, just—” but he hushes you with a kiss to your collarbone, soft and featherlight, and keeps grinding the thick head of his cock right where you want it most. never pushing in. just letting you suffer with the knowledge that he could—he just won’t.

he brings the tip back to your entrance again and pauses. and you feel it so clearly now—the pressure, the fullness that isn’t there yet but could be, the stretch you’re aching for. you try to speak, but your words come out as a sob, a moan, a broken little sound that barely qualifies as language. and then he does it again—rolls his hips just right so the head of his cock nudges your hole, teasing a shallow push that makes your breath stop entirely. your back arches, your thighs clamp instinctively around his waist, and your voice breaks. “fuck— please let me feel you. please… i want it, i want you inside—i need it so bad, jay—please.”

he hums, low and deep in his throat, like that’s the sound he’s been waiting for.

he doesn’t say anything—not when you beg, not when your hips buck up again in desperation—but his hands shift on your waist, grip tightening slightly like he’s finally giving in. you feel it in your gut first—the silence, the way the moment holds its breath, and then… the pressure. a slow, steady push, the thick head of his cock stretching your entrance open, and your breath leaves you in a single, shattered moan. he eases in with unbearable control, the kind that feels like his entire body is tense with restraint, letting you feel every inch as he sinks deeper, deeper, until your walls pulse and flutter helplessly around him. your mouth falls open. your thighs shake. your fingers flex in the cuffs above your head like you need something to hold onto—but all you have is him.

he moves slowly—so slowly it feels like time is breaking apart—his cock dragging along your inner walls in a stretch that’s equal parts bliss and pain, every inch carved into your body like it belongs there. “fuck,” he finally breathes, voice wrecked now, low and strained as he bottoms out completely, hips pressing flush against yours. “you feel—fuck—you feel unreal.” but you can’t respond. can’t speak. all you can do is feel, the thick weight of him buried inside you making it impossible to think, impossible to breathe. your body clenches tight, and he groans again, low and broken, like he’s losing himself just trying to stay still.

you’re soaked—beyond soaked, your slick coating his cock, dripping down your thighs, the sounds between you filthy and wet every time he moves. and still, he doesn’t fuck you. not yet. he holds there, deep and unmoving, letting you adjust, letting you fall apart around the stretch, like he knows this moment means something more than just release. and you feel it—god, you feel it everywhere. your chest is heaving, your toes curled, your head tossed back against the pillow even though you can’t see anything. you’re pinned, cuffed, blindfolded, full—and for the first time tonight, you feel the beginning of surrender settle into your bones.

“you still with me?” he murmurs, lips brushing your jaw, his voice a tether to reality. you nod quickly, but that’s not enough. “words,” he whispers again, kissing the corner of your mouth. “i’m with you,” you breathe, voice hoarse. “i’m so with you. please don’t stop.”

he kisses you one more time—slow, tender, like a thank-you—and then he starts to move.

he moves inside you like he’s savoring it—like you’re the first person he’s ever touched, and he doesn’t want to miss a single second of what your body feels like wrapped around him. his hips roll slow, deliberate, dragging his cock out until only the head remains before sliding back in with a pressure that makes your eyes roll beneath the blindfold. it’s not hard. it’s not fast. but it’s devastating. every thrust lands deep, slow and punishing in the best way, the kind of rhythm that makes your chest ache and your breath shake in your lungs. your wrists strain above your head, but there’s no fight in it—only the overwhelming need to hold onto something as he pushes in again, and again, and again. he doesn’t say a word. doesn’t rush. just groans softly under his breath, like you’re pulling the sounds out of him without trying. like he’s been quiet for so long he forgot what it’s like to feel this way.

his hands hold your hips like he’s afraid to let go, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh above your thighs as he thrusts into you with the kind of care that feels dangerous. his cock fills you perfectly, stretching you out slow and deep, the drag of him along your inner walls making you feel every inch, every pulse, every tremble that ripples through your core. your body sings with it—raw and sensitive, already pushed past its limit, but craving more now that he’s giving it to you like this. like you matter. like you’re not just a girl cuffed to his bed, but something more—something precious. the air between you is thick with heat and the soft sound of your moans, your slick, the soft catch of breath each time he presses deeper. the music hums in the background, nearly forgotten—but the weight of the moment sits heavy in the rhythm of his body against yours.

he leans over you as he moves, chest brushing yours, his breath warm on your cheek, and it makes you feel consumed. like he’s not just inside you, but around you. wrapped into the cuffs. buried in the heat. woven between the gasps you can’t hold in. he presses a kiss to your jaw, then your temple, his pace never faltering as he sinks in deeper, grinding at the bottom like he wants to stay inside you forever. and the worst part—the best part—is how your body welcomes it. how you open more. cling more. beg silently for all of him. you whisper his name like it’s the only word left in your mouth, like you need him to know that you’re here—ruined, wrecked, and still desperate for more.

“you’re doing so good,” he finally says, voice so low it barely registers past the haze of pleasure blooming behind your ribs. “so good for me.” and that alone almost breaks you. it’s not praise for the camera. not some performative moan. it’s real, soft and meant only for you, and it hits something raw and deep beneath your skin. you whimper, body trembling beneath him, and his hand slides up your ribs, smoothing over the side of your breast before cupping your jaw with a tenderness that feels like it could kill you. he kisses your cheek and pushes in deep—slow, grinding, perfect—and you cry out again, your orgasm building back like you never even came the first time.

you don’t know how much more you can take—but his body never stops. his hips roll in that same rhythm, slow and deliberate, dragging his cock deep with every thrust like he’s trying to press into the parts of you untouched by anything before him. you’re trembling everywhere, your thighs slick and sticky, your wrists limp in the cuffs above you. and somehow, with his chest against yours, his mouth pressed to your temple, and his cock pulsing deep inside you—you feel safe. he kisses you again. not your lips this time, but your jaw. your cheek. your neck. each one softer than the last, like he’s pouring warmth into your skin. “you’re doing so good,” he whispers again, and you feel your chest tighten with it.

he adjusts his angle slightly, and the next thrust hits something sharp, something soft—something that makes your back arch and a moan claw its way from your throat. he feels it too. you feel his groan against your neck as he holds you tighter, keeps his pace just the same, grinding deeper instead of faster. and it ruins you. your whole body clenches around him, walls fluttering with every drag of his cock, and you whimper his name again, voice barely there. “you can let go,” he murmurs, breath heavy against your ear. “come for me, baby. just like that. let me feel it.” and you do. your body gives up everything.

your orgasm rolls through you like it’s weeping—a slow, full-bodied release that shakes your legs, curls your toes, makes your chest rise in stuttering waves as heat floods your veins. you cry out, not loud, but broken—soft and wet and trembling as your cunt clenches tight around him, milking every inch with desperate pulses you can’t stop. you feel like you’re floating, your body no longer your own, every nerve lit and raw and alive. tears slip from under the blindfold again, but it’s not pain. it’s everything—the stretch, the tenderness, the way his hand slides up to cradle the back of your head as he kisses your forehead through it.

“that’s it,” he whispers, still deep inside you, his thrusts slowing but not stopping. “just like that. you’re so good for me.” and god, it shatters you. your hips twitch helplessly, aftershocks trembling through your core, and you can’t even speak anymore—you just whimper, letting him keep you full, letting him rock into you with every ounce of patience he has left. his hand strokes over your jaw, your cheek, his lips brushing over the sweat-slicked skin above your blindfold like he wants to kiss every single place he can’t see.

he pulls out slow, one last deep roll of his hips before his cock slips from your body with a slick sound that makes your whole body twitch. you whine at the sudden emptiness, at the cool air brushing over your soaked thighs, at the way your cunt clenches around nothing now. but he’s already shifting, already rising onto his knees beside you. you can’t see him—but you can feel the heat rolling off his skin, hear the way his breath shudders in his chest, how his hand wraps tight around the base of his cock with a slick grip that makes your mouth fall open on instinct. he strokes himself slow at first, his breath thick with restraint, and you can tell—he’s been holding back for so long. for you.

he leans over you slightly, one hand braced beside your shoulder while the other works himself in long, steady strokes, each movement dragging a low groan from deep in his chest. “fuck,” he hisses, voice rough now, shaking, “you’re so fucking perfect.” your cheeks are flushed, blindfold still in place, mouth parted and waiting like it’s instinct—and when he sees you like that, spread and ruined and still needing, something cracks in him. “open your mouth, baby,” he breathes. “wanna see it. wanna come all over that pretty face.” and your lips part wider, a soft whimper slipping out as you tilt your chin up in obedience, wrists still tied above you, body too wrecked to move but so ready to take more.

his rhythm speeds up—rougher now, needier, the slick sound of him pumping into his own hand echoing through the room as he kneels beside your face. his breath breaks. his hips stutter. and then—he spills. hot, thick ropes across your cheek, your jaw, your lips, groaning your name like a confession as he fucks into his fist with one last desperate pull. “fuckfuckfuck—look at you,” he gasps, watching the way your skin glows under it, the way your mouth stays open, waiting. he leans closer as the last of it drips from his tip onto your bottom lip, and his thumb catches your chin, tilts it gently. “don’t close it yet,” he murmurs, breathing heavy. “just stay like that. fuck—just like that.”

he strokes the last bit out slowly, watching his cum drip down your face, catching in the curve of your mouth, the heat of your skin, and he breathes like he’s never seen anything more beautiful. his free hand brushes down your jaw, catching some of the mess with his thumb before swiping it gently over your bottom lip. “so fucking good for me,” he whispers again, and then he leans in, presses a kiss to your forehead without hesitation, soft and reverent.

he stays above you for a moment, chest still rising fast, eyes lingering on your face with something that doesn’t quite feel like control anymore. his hand brushes your cheek, knuckles grazing your jaw, and for the first time since it started, he looks like he doesn’t know what to say. not because he’s unsure—but because he’s overwhelmed. he reaches out slowly, hitting the button on the camera without looking, the soft click of it powering down echoing through the quiet like the world’s finally breathing again. then he moves for your blindfold, untying it with careful fingers, his breath brushing your skin as he leans in close. the light hits your eyes again, warm and low, and when you blink up at him—he’s already watching. not with lust. not with pride. just something softer. something that feels like wonder.

he doesn’t speak as he undoes the cuffs, just slides your arms down gently and brings your wrists to his lips one at a time, pressing soft kisses to the reddened skin there like he’s saying thank you without the words. your hands are too weak to hold him, but you lean into the contact anyway, body limp, breath shallow, held together by the warmth of his hands alone. and when he finally speaks, his voice is quiet—almost hoarse. “you okay?” he asks, barely more than a breath. and you nod, a soft sound leaving your lips. it’s not enough. he leans in and kisses your forehead like a reflex. then your temple. then the space just beneath your eye, where your skin is still damp from tears. “i got you,” he says softly. “you did perfect.”

he doesn’t make you move. he doesn’t ask. he just gathers you—an arm beneath your knees, the other cradling your back—and lifts you like it’s the most natural thing in the world. the walk to the bathroom is silent, but not cold. just full. the steam from the shower has already started to cloud the mirrors, warm air kissing your skin as he sets you gently on the edge of the tub and turns the water on, testing it with his wrist before letting it run. he moves slow—every step deliberate, every glance careful, like he’s still in that headspace where everything is about you. when the water’s warm, he comes back to you and crouches down. he doesn’t ask. he just touches your thigh, kisses your knee, and lifts you into the shower with him.

he stands behind you, arms wrapping around your waist, your body resting against his chest as the water rushes down your skin. his breath is steady now, slower, his lips brushing your shoulder as his hands begin to move. not sexually. not even intimately. just gently. like he’s piecing you back together with soap and fingers and quiet worship. he lets the water rinse between your legs, across your stomach, down your spine, holding you still like you might float away. when you shiver, he holds you tighter. when you sigh, he presses his mouth to the side of your neck and breathes you in like he needs the scent of you to stay grounded. “thank you,” he whispers once, and it’s so soft, you almost think you imagined it.

he helps you wash. helps you rinse. helps you breathe again. and when it’s over, he wraps a towel around your body, dries your hair with gentle pats, and leads you back to the bedroom with nothing but quiet touches. the room is darker now. still warm. still full of the echoes from earlier. he brings you to the bed, lifts the sheets, and tucks you in slowly—like it means something. and then he slides in beside you, shirtless, still a little damp, his arm wrapping around your waist like he was made to fit against you. no pressure. no words. just the soft, steady rhythm of him being there, his hand rubbing slow circles into your back while your head presses into his chest.

your body melts into his without resistance, legs tangled beneath the sheets, your face pressed into the dip of his chest like that’s where it was always meant to be. he smells like clean skin and leftover warmth—something earthy and faintly sweet, something him. his arm curls tighter around your waist, his fingers dragging soft, lazy circles across your back, and it makes your whole body settle. like gravity’s gentler now. like the world outside doesn’t exist. his breaths are deep and even beneath your ear, steady like a heartbeat you didn’t realize you’d been syncing to all along. and every now and then, his lips graze your hairline, quiet and constant, like he can’t stop kissing you without saying anything out loud.

you don’t try to speak. you don’t need to. your limbs are too heavy, your throat too sore, and the silence between you feels so much better than any sound. he shifts just a little, resting his chin on top of your head, and you feel his fingers still. not because he’s stopped. but because he’s watching. you can’t see it, but you know—he’s looking at you like you’re still glowing. like the room didn’t get dark. like his eyes are only made to find you.

and then—soft. breathless. almost too quiet to catch.

“you didn’t just do something to my body.”

he says it like a secret. like a confession. like something he wasn’t supposed to let slip.

“you did something to me.”

but you’re already falling. your lashes flutter. your body goes limp. and the last thing you feel is the warmth of his chest, the press of his palm on your spine, and the faint, dizzy ache of your lips curling into a smile you don’t even remember making.

────୨ৎ──── 

you lie there for a second too long. eyes wide open, pulse ticking in your throat like a warning, the weight of his arm draped over your waist like a secret you’re not supposed to keep. the sun’s fully risen now, the light clearer, sharper. the room doesn’t feel like it did last night. it’s too quiet. too still. and your heart? too loud. the memory of his hands, his mouth, the way he whispered against your skin—it all presses into you at once, suffocating in its gentleness. this wasn’t supposed to happen. it was supposed to be work. a collab. content. but everything about the way he held you said otherwise.

you shift gently, slow enough not to wake him, slipping his arm off your waist and sitting up with a breath you don’t remember holding. your legs feel shaky. your body still aches in places he touched like you were something worth worshipping. and that’s the problem. you weren’t ready for that. not the way he looked at you. not the way he made it feel like more than just a shoot. your phone buzzes again on the nightstand and it’s like ice through your spine—because this is what you wanted, right? the money. the exposure. the success. not the way he kissed your forehead in the shower. not the way he whispered thank you like you gave him something he didn’t deserve.

you climb out of the bed, quiet and careful, your feet cold on the floor. his shirt is still draped over the chair. your lingerie—wrinkled and damp—folded on the dresser like he couldn’t bear to toss it aside. you ignore the lump rising in your throat as you pull your clothes on, smoothing them over your skin like armor. everything feels wrong. tight. too small. your hands are shaking when you reach for your bag. you don’t look back at him—not even once—because if you do, you’ll change your mind. and this? this was just business.

you slip out of the room like a shadow, easing the door shut behind you as if you were never there. the hallway is silent. the apartment too still. and every step you take toward the door feels heavier than the last. your phone buzzes again, and you swipe it up with trembling fingers, ignoring the unread message glowing at the top of your inbox. you don’t even let yourself breathe until you’re outside, the morning air hitting your face like clarity. like guilt. you blink up at the sky, trying to will the sting in your eyes away, whispering to yourself the only line that feels safe right now—“it’s just content. nothing more.”

and you hope that if you say it enough… you’ll believe it.

the ride home is silent. too silent. your driver doesn’t say a word, and neither do you—just sit back with your bag clutched tight to your chest, your body aching in a way that doesn’t feel physical. your thighs are still sore. your lips still tingling. your wrists marked faintly from the cuffs. but it’s not the pain that lingers—it’s the warmth. the look in jay’s eyes when he washed your face. the way he held you after. the way his heartbeat steadied yours. your fingers tighten around the strap of your bag. you don’t want to remember that. you don’t want to feel this way. so you focus on the window, on the blur of early morning light cutting through city streets. and you keep your breathing even. one scene doesn’t mean anything. not if you don’t let it.

you don’t even say thank you when the car stops. you just slip out onto the curb, into your apartment building, through your front door, and straight into your room like muscle memory. your roommate isn’t home. thank god. the silence hits you harder now. you toss your phone on the bed and fall right after it, face down in the sheets, letting the last twelve hours replay in flickers behind your eyes. his voice. his hands. his weight pressed so carefully against yours. your mouth trembles, but no sound comes out. your chest rises, then falls. and you stay like that for what feels like forever—until your phone dings again. and again. and again.

you flip it over, eyes bleary. new notifications flood your screen—tips, subscribers, messages—and they keep coming. you stare at them blankly, your thumb flicking through without reading until one catches your eye: 

@jakeoncam liked your video. @jakeoncam has followed you.

your heart stutters. your gaze sharpens. and then the messages from followers come into focus.

@yourbabygirl: you should collab with @jakeoncam 👀

 @whoreforjake: pls do something with @jakeoncam!

@ruinmeeee: @jakeoncam x @babydollxo WHEN??

you don’t even think. your thumb taps over to his profile automatically.

and there he is.

verified. 5.5M subscribers.

that same preview still pinned at the top.

you remember him now. you remember the way he moaned, the way his hips rolled in tight, fluid motions. how he whined, “i'm gonna cum....fuck, baby...” and you remember what it did to you.

your thumb hovers over the message button. your reflection stares back at you in the dark screen. and you type without thinking:

@babydollxo: hey. wanna collab?

natty's notesᝰ.ᐟ hoped you all enjoyed!!

taglistᝰ.ᐟ @starry-eyed-bimbo @vixialuvs @justaquarium @dark-moon-light02 @deobitifull @minjeong28 @wonzzziezzzz @wonsohl @psychicyouthfox @honeyfever @strayy-kidz @bloomiize @tunafishyfishylike @jaehaki @ihearteatingxo @songbyeonkim @sol3chu @mo0neng3ne @strxwbloody @hii01mii @merwdusa @dorrissakurada @lycxee @frequentlykit @heeenha6484 @sjakewrld @stwrlightt @parkjjongswifey @haneulhee @fr34k4c1dr41n @cozyre @vwricky @nyxtwixx @nuggets4lifers @yunkiconico @mynameis-rosie1 @leeknowslefteyebrow @babygguk98 @noiiny @horijiro @nshmrarki @delulumel @brooklyninawhitemustang @baedreamverse @stvrrylove @killedbycharlize @sehyojae @mylettterstoyou @metanoianlove @shaysimpss @kiokantalope @sanriwoozzz @mniwna @l1nn13 @gongyoorit @miszes @ineedheewoninmylife @seonhwastaar @ivyleyun @ari3ll4 @ssanhwatto @negin7 @koizekomi @enhaz1 @kittympirty @slayhaechan @semi-wife @tobiosbbyghorl @hoonsdrnkdzd @shy9-29 @heeenha6484 @heeseungsbm @kristynaaah @smlbch @kirinaa08 @millis-diary @kawaiichu32 @wonislife17 @minniesverse @k1ttyjwon @luvksnn @wondash @wooalt @sweetsoobie @nyxiebabyyy @jakezzgirlz @b1tem4rks @hoonneyyzz @mimimovv @hanjiversee @ch4c0nnenh4 @sarashusbandissunghoonfyime @tnafzi @bbypink @en-hoon02 @skzenhalove @azzy02 @sanchaah @planetmarlowe @miniw0nz @daisy-doo1 @femaholicc @cherryangel-coke @hooniesfvngs @kimsvtaes @mniwna @i-am-not-dal @star-hoon @wafflelyweddedmallow @certifiedjaeyunist @devouredyou @neogotmysam @nuki-riki @heesang07 @littlofang @simj4k3 @makgeolli-jw @ksnooppy @luvksnn @starryemiko @isagistar @nickiminajleftasscheek @jeonkaijoon @doveblackboat @haestuffs @srhnyx @azzy02 @bubblemoonclouds @diana021811 @wonuziex @blubb0 @choicila @nyfwyeonjun @neo-weareone @jooniesbears-blog @byshens @arourababy

[talaok]

After all

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: A morning in Jackson with your husband Joel and his kid Ellie, only ever since you got pregnant he has seemengly become insatiable.

Warnings: A bunch of fluff, reader is pregnant, unspecified age gap, smut| Unprotected p in v, creampie, breeding kink, big dick Joel (ofc), soft!dom Joel.

a/n: this is a weird short lil thing bc i am delulu and i dont wanna think about the next ep. this is what happens. all of this is canon 100%.

You'd stopped setting an alarm long ago.

This was the only way you ever woke up now... with Joel Miller's mouth on you.

Today, the kiss had landed on the top of your head.

"Mornin' beautiful"

The man was like an alarm clock, he always woke up at the same exact time, and he'd made it a routine now of taking his sweet time in the morning.

Each day felt like a blessing when he opened his eyes and you were in his arms, breathing deeply onto his chest, his neck... every morning he'd wake up and stare at you for a little while, letting you have a few more minutes of sleep, thanking whoever was responsible for having ever let him meet you.

And this morning had been no exception.

"Good morning" you mumbled, softly rubbing your face against his neck as you tried to will your eyes to open.

Your senses were invaded with everything Joel- his potent manly scent, his heat, his touch... just as every morning he was the welcome reprieve against the daunting task of starting your day.

But today it seemed a slow morning wasn't exactly what he had in mind.

You finally craned your neck up with a yawn before smiling softly at him.

He always looked so cute in the morning, when his defenses weren't up because it was just you and him...

Without speaking, without needing to, both of you leaned closer to the other until his mouth was gently pressing on yours- which is how you usually greeted each other every morning... what didn't however happen every day was his lips pressing harder, his tongue infiltrating your mouth, or his left hand forcing your head even closer to his.

You didn't even have time to smile at his eagerness that he'd pinned you beneath him, kissing you brutally now, his tongue fighting with your own as his right hand began to trail down your swollen belly looking to get beneath your sleeping shorts.

Your hands went to his hair- it had changed since you'd arrived in Jackson, his locks had grown longer and greyer and it didn't matter how many times he'd come up with an excuse as to why he wanted them short again... you'd never allow it, it was as if his long hair was the proof of how comfortable and safe he'd grown here... around you.

"Joel" you managed to murmur, trying to slow him down.

But he didn't answer, he only groaned in response as his left hand seeped underneath your shirt, desperately grasping your boobs.

"Baby" you cooed as his mouth left yours to peck whatever inch of your neck he could reach.

"I need ya darlin'"

You wanted nothing more than to accept what you knew was about to come, but even if it killed you, you spoke up.

"I wanted to make breakfast baby" you murmured as his calloused fingers touched your belly as if it were made of porcelain, caressing it with all his love "before Ellie goes on patrol"

The groan he let out was one of both frustration and protest.

Joel had never been a fan of Eliie going on patrol... quite the opposite really.

He'd tried to talk her out of it countless times, he even persuaded Tommy into getting her off some shifts, but to no avail, she always got her way.

He even tried getting you on his side, and although you didn't love the idea, you knew better than to tell Ellie what to do.

You'd had countless conversations about it, hundreds of:

"You can't protect her forever Joel" and "She's not a kid anymore, you can't tell her what to do"

And he'd always say something like:

"It's too damn dangerous" and "I just don't get why she has to go"

And then he'd always complaint about how "She's so damn reckless" and every time, you couldn't help but smile as you reminded him: "She's just like her dad"

But in the end, he had accepted it... he wasn't happy about it, but at least he got Ellie to promise she would be 'real fucking safe' and that she'd stay out of trouble.

Which is why you smiled as you guided his head up so you could kiss him.

"Please?" you bit down a smile, half laughing "I'll make it up to you later"

He grumbled displeased before giving up.

"I hate that goddamn patrol"

__ __ __

Eggs were frying in the sizzling pan, but all your focus was on Joel's mouth devouring your own... again.

Joel Miller had always had a voracious appetite, but from the very first moment you got pregnant he'd become insatiable.

Every single second he had to have his hands on you, no matter if you were in public or not, his palm was on your lower back, on the inside of your thighs, on your cheeks, and most of all on your growing belly.

And then there were times like now, where he had every inch of your body pressed against his, both his hands on your ass, as he kissed you like it was the very last time he ever could.

That was until a voice startled you.

"Jesus"

It seemed Ellie had made it to breakfast.

"Get a room you two"

Joel begrudgingly took a step back, letting you out of his hold so you could finally greet poor Ellie... you would have liked to say this was the first time she'd caught you showing a little too much affection to each other, but the truth was the girl must be tired of it.

"Hi Ellie" you smiled wide, certain that your face and cheeks were flushed enough to notice.

"Good mornin' kiddo" Joel nodded, pouring himself a cup of coffee, completely unfazed.

"No wonder you got pregnant in less than a year" Ellie grumbled, making you chuckle.

__ __ __

Breakfast flew by. It was mostly Joel and Ellie who talked, yapping about whatever disgusting discovery Ellie had made on some recent patrols or the new jokes she and Dina had made up.

The whole time Joel's hand remained on your thigh as he listened eagerly at every word leaving Ellie's lips- but you... you weren't really listening, all you could do the whole time was smile, as the rising sun shined through the windows, as Joel's and Ellie's laughs filled the room, as your child grew in your belly, you could only smile as the reality of how great life could really be, even after all, set in.

__ __ __

Ellie had run out of the house only minutes ago.

You were just starting to wash the first mug in the sink when he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, kissing your cheek.

He set down the last dish he'd retrieved from the table into the sink and guided your hands away from the task, forcing you to turn around.

You could see it in his eyes before he even spoke a word.

"Jesus baby you're insatiable today" you laughed as he smirked, leaning closer to leave a soft kiss on your lips.

"can't help myself when my wife looks so goddamn beautiful" he murmured, his hands finding your sides so his thumb could trace small circles on your belly.

You smiled at his words as he moved you against the kitchen counter. "You're gonna be late to work"

He nodded mindlessly, kissing your neck and sending shivers down your back.

"'m sure they'll survive without me"

And that was that.

You didn't even know why you'd tried to protest, you could never deny him... and he never did change his mind.

"You wanna go on the bed?" he asked breathlessly between kisses, his big warm palms working your shirt up and off of you.

Jesus, you got hotter every day.

You let out a soft cry as his leg found its place in between your thighs and he grinded his rock-hard cock against you.

You hadn't even touched him and he was damn near losing his mind.

"You're the one with the bad back... and knees... and-"

He interrupted you with a kiss, moving you onto the counter as an answer.

"You're saying I'm old sugar?" he challenged, his voice sweet as honey and lustful as ever.

You grinned, your hands traveling downwards to the tent in his sweatpants.

"Well it sure isn't me who needs glasses"

He couldn't help but softly laugh, his forehead falling to yours- though the moment your hand infiltrated his boxers and grabbed his dick, giving it a slow, torturous pump all the sounds coming out of his mouth turned to a desperate groan.

"fuck doll" he growled, getting rid of your shorts and panties in one quick move "You sure you're comfortable here?"

It was funny, the way while he asked that, he was already guiding his cock into you.

"Yeah," you nodded nonetheless, your voice barely a whisper "it's... it's perfect"

The cold of the counter against your skin grounded you as Joel thrust his dick inside you- inch by inch.

No matter how many times he filled you, you were never getting used to him.

"Fuckin'- Jesus Christ babydoll" he growled, his mouth just an inch from yours, both your heavy breathings mixing with one another.

"Feel like fuckin' heaven," he growled before he started moving.

And... yeah... fuck.

Moans started spilling from your mouth like prayers as your hands went to his back, scratching his skin as you held onto him for dear life.

He never went particularly hard since the baby, but he still managed to go fast... and deep.

"Oh my god" you cried, eyes locked with his as he split you in half "Joel" you mewled, earning a messy kiss.

"takin' me so well darlin'" he praised, moving some hair from your face as your eyes fogged up with that pre-orgasmic haze "Always so good for me... I'll never tire of this perfect fuckin' pussy baby- think about it every second of every day... fuck"

At that, at the feeling of his cock grazing your cervix with each thrust, your walls hugging him impossibly tight and his sweet southern drawl coming out more the more ecstasy took over, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as your moans got higher and louder.

You'd never had to be quiet since Ellie moved to the garage, and you sure didn't miss it.

"J-Joel-- Oh shit"

You threw your head back as the pleasure started overriding your body, your legs spasming as your mind went blank, and Joel took it as an opportunity to bend down and kiss every inch of your neck he could reach- eventually, he started focusing right beneath your ear, where he knew drove you crazy.

"You're gonna come for me sugar?" he purred, the sound of his skin slapping with yours bouncing off the kitchen's walls "be a good girl and come on my cock darlin'"

He didn't even have to ask.

You silenced your own cries by biting down on the piece of him where his neck met his shoulder as your vision went white and all you could feel was pleasure in its purest form.

Joel watched every second of it, his eyes inevitably lowering to your belly together with his hands... he couldn't believe this was real.

You didn't know how long the orgasm went on, but Joel didn't stop for one second. It was only when you finally relaxed that he let himself off the hook.

"I'm gonna come babygirl" he groaned, his thrusts turning sloppy "Gonna fill you up" he smiled, kissing your mouth as you tried your best to reciprocate in the post-orgasmic haze "It don't matter that I've filled you up already... need to show everyone you're mine" he grunted, his hands cradling your belly making you beam "gonna make you a mama over and over again, sugar- fuck- goddamnit"

Before you knew it, he was doing exactly what he'd said- filling you up.

His head fell to the crook of your neck as he groaned loud enough for the whole Jackson to hear.

His eyes seemed even bigger as he peeked up at you after a while, nothing in them if not joy and devotion.

"I love you" he murmured, kissing you softly.

"I love you" you promised back.

Yeah... life really could still be great after all.

[supernovafics]

𝐃𝐎 𝐌𝐄 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 8.7k words

summary: in which you and steve randomly meet at a bar and realize that you two can help each other out with a similar problem

warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol/drinking, mentions of past bad relationships (very recent breakups), smut (18+), oral (f!receiving), protected p in v sex

author’s note: i genuinely can’t believe how long this ended up being lol hope yall enjoy though!<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“We could be the greatest wingwoman and wingman for you right now if you just let us, dingus.”

Steve rolled his eyes at Robin’s words. “I already let you guys drag me to this bar, isn’t that enough?”

Robin responded with a simple, “No, it’s not” before taking another sip of her drink, while Eddie said something about how if this were a year ago, they wouldn’t have had to force Steve to this bar because he would have suggested the idea himself. 

“Monica changed you for the worse, man,” Eddie continued, and Steve only frowned at him. 

Robin gave Eddie’s arm a quick whack. “Hey, we promised no Monica slander tonight. At least not right in front of him.”

Steve gave them both the most unamused look. “You guys really had to make a deal about that? To not talk shit about my ex?”

“Okay, don’t say it like that,” Robin told him. “It would actually be super warranted if we did wanna talk shit about her. She was super pretentious and she hated all of your friends; me and Eddie, especially.”

Steve couldn’t think of a rebuttal to that on the spot, so he ended up saying nothing. And then he reminded himself that Monica had brutally dumped him two weeks ago, so why should he even want to defend her to his best friends anymore?

“There’s seriously not one girl here right now that you could maybe be interested in?” Eddie asked, and Steve was grateful that the conversation was at least slightly shifting away from Monica.

But, he didn’t even take a quick look around the bar before answering Eddie’s question with an immediate “No” and hoping that the subject would change again.

Eddie groaned and then proceeded to finish what was left of his beer, and Robin sighed before saying, “If you at least talked to a random girl here, and just maybe flirted a little bit, don’t you think you’d feel a little less sad about the breakup?”

“I’m not sad about it, though,” Was Steve’s immediate response, and it was only kind of a lie. 

It really wasn’t Monica breaking up with him that made him sad; it was more about him spending almost a year of his life with someone that he knew he probably shouldn’t have been with in the first place because of how incompatible they were. That hard truth was what made him feel sad and a little stupid. Actually, scratch that, a lot stupid. But things with her had become so comfortable and routine that it eventually felt easier staying than leaving. 

Robin simply gave him a look before shaking her head. “You’re a terrible liar. Last night I saw you watching that one National Geographic documentary that you only watch when you’re sad. Which I still find kinda weird, but you’re my best friend and I love you and all of your weird coping habits.”

“Wait, which documentary is it again?” Eddie asked, laughing a little. “The one about the whales or the one about the lions?”

“Whales,” Robin answered. “And it's like three hours long.”

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Steve abruptly said before Robin or Eddie could say anything else. 

He left his half-drunk beer with his friends and walked away from the high table they’d been occupying for the past hour and headed toward where the bathrooms were down a random hallway. 

“Don’t try to sneak out the back. We have your location and we will find you,” He heard Robin say from behind him. “And don’t turn it off now that I just mentioned it.”

Steve laughed as he held up his hand, giving her a quick thumbs-up in response. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

There was only so much waiting and hiding you could do, so you decided to ask the first guy that you saw exiting the bathroom. 

“Hey, are the two girls sitting at the end of the right side of the bar looking this way?” 

Surprisingly, this random guy didn’t question why you were asking him that, or why you couldn’t check that yourself, or even question why you were so obviously hiding in this slightly secluded hallway where the terrible bathrooms were. 

Instead, he stepped out of the hallway a little bit and took a peek around the corner for you, and then turned back to you after a second. “Yeah, I see two girls looking this way.”

“Shit.”

“Who are they?”

“My friends.”

The confused look he gave you was immediate. “Why are you trying to avoid your friends?”

You sighed as you leaned back against the wall behind you. “Because they’re trying to convince me that going home with a random guy tonight will help me get over my boyfriend who just broke up with me.”

The laugh he let out in response surprised you. It also made you feel equal parts offended and amused. 

“Is my devastating heartbreak funny to you?”

For the most part, you were exaggerating; your breakup with Elliott hadn’t actually been all too devastating— no outward lying or cheating, just a lot of miscommunications and bad timings— but you kind of wanted this random guy to feel at least a little bad for laughing at you. 

“Shit, no, sorry,” He said, and his cheeks reddened a bit in what you could only assume was embarrassment, and you suddenly felt kind of bad about getting so defensive. “I just laughed because my friends are trying to do the same thing for me, too.” 

“Oh, sorry,” You said, feeling slightly worse now that you knew that you two were in the same boat. “Sorry about your breakup.”

He shrugged like it was fine. “How long have you been standing here hiding from your friends?”

“Five minutes, maybe,” You answered as you pulled out your phone to quickly check the time. Seeing that it was a little after ten thirty let you know that you’d actually been standing here for closer to ten minutes, but you didn’t correct yourself. “My plan is to somehow find an opening to slip out the front door, and then I’ll send them a picture from my Uber telling them that I left.”

“Solid plan.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.”

“Maybe a little bit,” He said, giving you a small smile, and it was then that you were realizing, or finally noticing, that this guy was cute; even in the shitty bar lighting you could tell that. 

Maybe it was because of his sweet smile, or maybe it was the denim jacket he was wearing over a plain white t-shirt that suited him really well. Or maybe it was his hair that looked as if he got out of bed and pushed a quick hand through it and then proceeded to leave his home, and you meant that in the best way possible.

Either way, this guy was really cute and so clearly your type— even though you felt like you were in no place to consider anything romantic with anyone, you could recognize his attractiveness— and you were suddenly being hit with an idea.

“Wait, you said that your friends are trying to set you up with someone here too, right?”

He let out a sigh. “Yeah, they are.”

“And I’m guessing by that sigh that you don’t wanna do that?” You asked, and when he shook his head in answer, you continued. “Okay, I think we maybe can help each other get out of here. This might sound a little insane since we literally don’t know each other at all, but let’s just pretend we really like each other in front of our friends— like, be super flirty and whatever. And then we’ll leave here together, letting them think that we’re gonna…” The thought of saying the word suddenly made you feel awkward, so you didn’t. “Do what they want us to do.”  

After taking a moment to process your sudden idea— you honestly wouldn’t have been surprised if the guy said no because it was pretty weird— he nodded. “That’s actually a really great idea.” 

“Thank you. I’m known for my great ideas, actually,” You said, smiling at him as you reached out to grab his hand and intertwine it with yours. 

If the thought of saying that you and this stranger were gonna have sex made you feel awkward, then abruptly holding his hand should’ve felt weird too, but surprisingly it didn’t. “Alright, let’s just act like we’re super into each other, I guess.” 

“I’m Steve, by the way,” He told you. 

“Oh, yeah, that’s probably important information to know,” You said and then proceeded to tell him your name too. 

You led the way to your friends and the small corner of the bar where they were lingering by. 

“Hey, guys, this is Steve,” You said and slapped on the happiest smile you could muster at the moment. 

“Steve,” Danielle was the first one to say something after noticing your and Steve’s interlocked hands. “What’s your last name?”

“Harrington.”

And then Amy was jumping in. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-three.” 

“What do you do?”

“I work at the record store down the street.”

“So, you’re a music guy?”

“Not really, I guess. My friend got me a job there.” 

You decided to stop the interrogation before Steve got scared away by this back and forth questioning Danielle and Amy were doing. “Okay, okay, that’s enough of the interview. His friends are gonna think he ditched them or something.”

“You guys should come over to the table we’re at,” Steve said and then pointed in the direction of where his friends were with his free hand. “There’s enough room.”

You nodded at his words. “That’s a great idea.” 

If Danielle or Amy were aware of this act you were putting on— how you were no longer rejecting their idea of you flirting with some guy to “get over” Elliott— they didn’t call you out on it. Instead, they agreed that going to the table with Steve’s friends was a good idea. 

Quick introductions were made, and then the group settled into typical small talk. However, you and Steve deliberately fell into your own kind of “flirty conversation” and played it up for your friends, all of whom tried to pretend that they weren’t intensely watching you two, but they failed miserably at hiding their staring, which was exactly what you both wanted. 

After a few minutes of exaggerated smiles and elated laughs, Steve leaned in close to your ear. “How long do you think we’re gonna have to do this?”

You softly giggled like he just whispered the sweetest thing to you and then leaned into his ear. “Follow my lead.”

You pulled back and then shifted so that you were standing closer to him, and he quickly took the hint and wrapped his arm around you. 

“Hey,” You said, grabbing the attention of your friends and his, which was easy because they had already been half-listening to you and Steve anyway. “We’re gonna head out of here, so we’ll see you guys later.”

There was a mix of confused and surprised looks that crossed all over their faces for the briefest moment, and then Amy was the one to first say something. “Really?”

“Yeah,” You nodded. “I want to take Steve to my place to show him something.”

“Since I’ve never seen the second Home Alone movie, we’re gonna watch that,” Steve added. Out of all of the movies he could’ve said, you weren’t sure why he was mentioning a Christmas one in September, but sure, you’d play along. 

“You’re gonna watch a movie?” Robin asked, somehow looking both skeptical and amused. 

Steve nodded. “Yeah.”

“Yup,” You agreed as you reached up to lace your fingers with his hand that was around your shoulders and used that to push yourself even closer to him. 

“Okay,” Eddie said, failing to bite back his grin. “Have fun watching a movie.”

“We will,” Steve told him and gave your hand a light squeeze. 

“I’ll text you guys later,” You said to Danielle and Amy, who were looking at you with equally surprised but happy looks. After so many years of friendship, it was pretty easy to read each other, but you hoped that they couldn’t see through what you were doing; you hoped you were faking all of this well enough.

Neither of them said anything, though, and they instead nodded and said different versions of “We’ll talk to you in the morning,” which let you know that they were just happy that you were actually following through with what they wanted you to do tonight. 

Steve pulled his arm from around you and just went to normally holding your hand, and you two said final goodbyes to your friends and then headed away from the table. You two stayed practically attached at the hip until you were out of the door. The cold hit you immediately, but it wasn’t too unbearable with your jacket on, although you still wished that you had opted for a better dress. You gave Steve a quick look as the bar door closed behind you both.   

“Nice idea with the movie thing, even though Home Alone 2 is so random,” You said with a laugh. “They all definitely think we’re about to go have sex in my apartment.”

“I’ve kinda used that movie line before,” Steve said. “It’s been a while, but Robin and Eddie still know what it means.” 

You gave him an amused smile. “Okay, so Home Alone 2 is code for ‘I’m about to go hook up with this random girl’?”

“No, I don’t use the same movie every time,” He laughed a little. “That one was just the first thing that came to my mind this time.”

You nodded as you slipped your hand from his and you reached into the pocket of your jacket to pull out your phone. You opened the Uber app and ordered a car so that you could finally go home. 

“So, what are your plans for the rest of the night?” Steve asked as you slipped your phone back in your pocket. 

“Head home and probably finish the bottle of wine that I had been drinking before my friends dragged me here, and then call my ex and leave very stupid voicemails.”

You didn’t mean to be so honest— if your friends had asked you that question, you would’ve lied and avoided any and all mentions of Elliott because you wanted to make it seem like you were dealing with the breakup just fine— but talking to Steve made you want to be truthful for some reason; maybe because you two were going through the same thing. 

“That doesn’t sound like the best idea.”

“It’s not,” You agreed, but didn’t say that you wouldn’t still be following through with it. 

Things became quiet as you two stood on this sidewalk, not at all as close as you two were when you were trying to play things up in front of your friends. There was actual space between you two for the first time in the last ten minutes, and you weren’t looking at him anymore, instead, you were focused on the quiet street. The faint sounds of all the noise coming from inside the bar managed to fill the silence, and you wondered if this was the part where you two were supposed to go your separate ways. Now that you helped each other get what you both wanted, what else was there to say or do? 

You were about to mumble something along the lines of “Thanks for your help tonight,” but Steve was speaking before you could. “My ex texted me earlier.”

Weirdly enough, you actually felt a little relieved that he was keeping the conversation going. You honestly didn’t mind talking to him. There was something about this entire conversation that felt so simple and easy, even though you were talking about kind of shitty things. 

You looked at him. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“My friends would say bad. And a part of me knows it’s bad too, but I don’t know,” He shrugged. “It’s kinda tempting.”

You understood what he meant completely, but you still gave him advice that you probably wouldn’t have taken for yourself. “Okay, well, if my opinion matters at all in this, which I know it probably doesn’t, you shouldn’t text her back.”

“And then, in that case, you shouldn’t drunk call your ex,” He reminded you. 

“Why did you two break up?” You asked instead of outwardly agreeing with his words. 

“She did it two weeks ago over the phone,” Steve told you. “She said that things were feeling “off” between us and maybe they always had been.”

“Ouch,” That word felt like an understatement to represent just how shitty breaking up with someone over a phone call was, but it was all you could manage to say right then. 

He gave you a quick nod, breaking your gaze for a second, and then he threw the question your way. “What about you?”

“He wanted to move to California, and I wanted to stay here,” You answered. That was the short version of it; the easy version of it. 

“Okay, that sounds pretty amicable,” Steve responded. 

You almost simply agreed with him just to let this part of the conversation end, but it didn't feel right doing that. For reasons you couldn’t fully recognize just yet, you didn’t want to lie to Steve. 

“It wasn’t,” You admitted softly. “The moving thing came up months ago, and if we were smart, we would’ve just ended things then, but we didn’t. I told him I didn’t want to move, and he said that was fine, but it definitely wasn’t fine. He started pulling away and being a dick, and we both became really shitty toward each other by the end of it until he finally broke up with me and then moved like he wanted to.”

“Okay, nevermind. That sounds like it sucked.”

“And yours seems pretty bad too,” You said. “Doing it over the phone is such a fucked move. Did you see it coming?”

“No, but also yes, which probably doesn’t even make sense,” He answered, and in your eyes, it did make sense, but you didn’t interrupt him to tell him that. “There was something that always felt “off” about us, but in the moment, it never seemed like that big of a deal. Looking back now, though, it’s so obvious that we were never gonna work, and I guess it’s kinda good that she ended it.”

“But, she texted you today,” You reminded him. 

“Yeah,” He said and then sighed. 

“I still don’t think you should say anything back to her,” You told him. “Now, after hearing that she broke up with you over the phone, she definitely doesn’t deserve a text back.”

“If you don’t call your ex tonight, I won’t text mine back,” Steve said, giving you a look that you couldn’t fully decipher, but you were still nodding at his words. 

“Deal,” You said and then held out your hand for him to shake— because it felt like the obvious thing to do, even if the “deal” you two were making was a playful one— and he did. You didn’t understand how his hand was still warm after being out in the cold for the past few minutes, but it was nice all the same. 

As if on cue, a car pulled up in front of the bar with the all too familiar Uber sticker in its windshield. You looked at it for a quick second and then at your phone to make sure it was the right car. And then after that confirmation, you looked at Steve. 

“You coming?”

The confused look he gave you was immediate. “You want me to?”

You nodded and smiled at him. “Yeah, how else are we gonna make sure we both follow through with the deal we just made?”

“Makes sense,” Steve said, nodding back with a small, amused smile on his face, and then he followed you to the car. 

You two sat on opposite ends in the backseat, and it was probably the first time all night that the silence between you two felt a little awkward.  

“Can I read the text she sent you?” You asked, halfway through the ten-minute ride. “Sorry, if that’s weird, I don’t know why I’m so curious.” 

“Not weird,” Steve told you as he tapped on his phone for a second and then handed it over to you. 

You took a brief look at the previous messages sent between them, which was a lot of simple stuff, and then you focused on the most recent one. 

I’ve been thinking about you a lot today. Maybe we can meet up soon and talk? Let me know when you’re free. 

It was hard not to roll your eyes at the message. It felt almost too painstakingly equivalent to something Elliott had said to you the day he moved out of your apartment. His one final attempt to get you to change your mind and move to California with him, as if all the damage to your relationship hadn’t already been done. 

You were about to hand Steve his phone back, but then you noticed something. 

“Steve,” You said, looking at him in the darkness of the car. “Why is there still a heart by her name?”

“I haven’t gotten around to changing it yet,” He answered, which didn’t sound like the best excuse to you because you thought about how promptly you had changed Elliott’s contact name to “Asshole” once he left the apartment for the final time. 

“Alright, let me do the honors for you,” You said as you deleted the red heart and then Monica’s name entirely and simply put “EX.” “Okay, here you go.”

You handed the phone back to him, and he looked at what you did and then laughed a little. “I don’t know why I thought you were gonna make it something a lot meaner.”

“It was tempting,” You started. “But, I don’t know her, so I don’t know what mean stuff would’ve been the most fitting.”

Steve nodded as he slipped his phone back in his pocket. “What’s your ex’s name?”

“Asshole in my contacts and Elliott in real life,” You answered and Steve laughed again and then said a quick, “Got it.”

You made it to your apartment building five minutes later and it took another five minutes, due to very shitty elevators, to make it to your actual apartment.  

“Welcome to my place,” You said to Steve as you flicked on the light and then pulled off your jacket and hung it on one of the hooks by the front door, and slipped off your shoes. 

“Did you just move in?” Steve asked, following suit and doing the same with his jacket, and then toeing off his shoes by the door as well. 

The half-emptiness of your apartment didn’t really faze you anymore, but you understood how unfinished the place looked to someone who was seeing it for the first time. 

“Oh, no, I’ve been here for almost three years now. When Elliott moved out, he took a lot of things, so it looks a little weird and half-decorated now,” You quickly explained, hoping that you successfully masked the sudden awkwardness in your voice because you now felt the tiniest bit embarrassed that you brought him here. “I’m still working on getting a new TV, so for now we can just watch something on my laptop if you want.”

Before Steve could say anything in response, you grabbed your laptop from where it sat on the small coffee table in your living room and then handed it over to him. “I’ll be right back; I need to get out of this dress. But you can put on whatever you want.” 

“Okay,” You heard him say as you headed toward your bedroom. 

It didn’t hit you how sort of insane this entire situation was until you closed your bedroom door behind you, and you were left alone for the first time since you met Steve near the bar bathrooms. Now, logical thinking was kicking in, and you considered just how much of a bad idea all of this was. 

There was a guy who you barely knew in your apartment, and you had no plans on having sex with him, so this wouldn’t end up being a one-night stand kind of thing. So, what would happen instead? You two would simply talk and genuinely watch a movie, and then what?

Although you had no idea what the answer to that question was, it actually didn’t completely scare you. Because yes, this was kind of an odd set of circumstances, but you and Steve were going through the same thing, and that somehow made everything feel different. You weren’t nervous around him, and you hadn’t been all night; instead, things had felt weirdly easy, you realized. And you decided to keep leaning into that easy feeling and not overthink whatever this was or would be.  

You slipped out of your dress and put on what was probably the most comfortable pair of pajama pants you owned and a simple t-shirt. When you stepped out of your bedroom and headed back into the living room, you saw Steve sitting on the couch, and a small, slightly amused smile tugged at your lips as you noticed what was playing on your laptop, which was opened up and back on the coffee table.

“Okay, I definitely didn’t expect you to put on a nature documentary,” You said as you sat down next to him, leaving a fair amount of space between you two. “I don’t know why I thought you’d put on something super boyish. Like, Die Hard or one of the million Fast and Furious movies.”

“Oh, I was planning on putting on Die Hard after this,” He said, and you immediately took notice of the playful tilt in his voice.

“An ocean documentary and Die Hard sounds like a solid double feature,” You joked back with a smile, and Steve laughed in response and then proceeded to tell you that this documentary was specifically about whales. 

A comfortable silence began to linger as you grabbed the throw blanket that was folded on the back of the couch and spread it over your lap and then offered some of it to Steve, which he accepted— it was long enough to fit you both comfortably even though you weren’t right next to each other. And then you focused on the documentary and the Australian narrator talking about the vastness of the ocean. 

“We can watch something else if you want,” Steve abruptly said about five minutes in. His words slightly surprised you because you had actually been finding the documentary pretty interesting so far and you hadn’t done anything to show otherwise. “My friends always hate when I put this on.”

You looked away from the laptop screen and at him. “How often do you watch this?”

“Whenever I’m not feeling great,” He answered, turning a little to look at you too. “Like, sick or sad.”

“Okay, and with your breakup, I guess this has been on repeat these past two weeks?” You asked, and the nod he gave you in response made you think that he was embarrassed by that answer, and you immediately wanted to make him not feel that way. “My personal sad go-to has been putting on this one reality show where people do dumb obstacle courses to win money. There’s like twenty seasons of that show and I’m halfway through it.”

“That’s what we should actually watch after this,” Steve said, giving you a playful smile. 

“Yeah, and we can wallow in our collective sadness,” You nodded in agreement, which made him laugh. “And this will probably sound weird or just not even make sense, but I’m not even sad about me and him breaking up, because I know that it definitely needed to happen. I’m sad about basically wasting the last two years of my life with someone who didn’t end up being “the one” or whatever. Thinking about that feels so much worse than the breakup itself.”

Steve gave you a look that you couldn’t decipher at all. It was probably the first time all night that you felt slightly self-conscious under his gaze. You got the urge to look away from him and focus back on the whales on screen, but you didn’t. 

Instead, your eyebrows furrowed. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Sorry, it’s just, I feel the exact same way pretty much,” He told you. “I’m not really that sad that Monica broke up with me, I just feel really stupid that we were even together in the first place. She didn’t really like my friends and would always make fun of my job.”

“Didn’t you say you work at a record store? What is there to make fun of about that?” 

“She would say a lot of stuff about how ‘it’s a job that’s going nowhere,’ but then play it off like she was just joking.” 

You were unable to hold back your grimace. “Wow, that sounds terrible.”

You noticed the embarrassed look cross his face and you felt the immediate need to change it.  

“Sorry, sorry, I’m not judging,” You quickly told him. “Elliott called me a lot of mean things by the end, and I still stayed with him, so I know all about making dumb decisions in a relationship.”

Steve frowned at your words. “How mean?”

“So mean that you’re actually the first person I’ve even mentioned that to. It still feels way too embarrassing to bring it up to my friends,” You admitted, and it was then that you had to finally look away from him. “I don’t really get why it’s so easy to talk to you.”

“Probably because we’re basically strangers,” Steve said, and after considering his words for a second, you nodded. “And fuck him, by the way, for whatever mean shit he said to you. That sounds pretty terrible too.”

“That’s why I wanted to call him tonight and leave equally as mean drunk voicemails, but you talked me out of it,” You said, finally meeting Steve’s eyes again. “You’re right, though, it would’ve been stupid to do that.”

Steve shook his head. “Oh, when you said that, I thought you meant that you wanted to leave the sappy kind of drunk voicemails where you talk about wanting to get back with him or something.” 

“Oh, no way. I was just gonna list off a bunch of bad things about him,” You responded. “Like, the kinds of things that when you’re dating the person, it just seems like a little quirk or bad habit that you can overlook, but in hindsight you’re like, why did I put up with any of that, y’know?”

Steve nodded understandingly. “Can I hear the list?” 

“You sure you wanna hear me rant about my ex?” You asked him with an amused smile, and Steve laughed a little and nodded again. “Okay, he would always forget to turn off stuff before he left the apartment; the TV, lights, anything really. He never did the dishes and would always get a little annoyed when I asked him to do it. Oh, and he hated whenever I would beat him at any kind of games.” 

“That’s a very solid list.”

“Also, he,” You started and then immediately cut yourself off, realizing that maybe you should have at least somewhat of a filter. “Nevermind, it’s stupid.”

Steve gave you a look. “Wait, now you have to say it.”

“He never…” You looked away from Steve’s curious gaze and instead focused on the blanket draped over your lap. You pulled at a random loose string as you said your next words. “He never went down on me.”

“Really?” He asked, and you simply nodded because it suddenly felt too hard to form words right then. “You were together for almost two years, and he didn’t do it once?”

You nodded again and then finally found your voice. “He said he wasn’t a “fan” of it. Meanwhile, he loved when I gave him a blowjob.” 

It was pretty obvious that your filter was completely gone at this point; if it had ever even really been there in the first place when it came to Steve. 

“Wow.”

You tilted your head at him. “I can’t tell what that wow means.”

“It means that he’s an idiot and you should’ve been the one dumping him, not the other way around, and also, once again, he’s definitely an idiot.”

You laughed a little. “Woah, who knew one word could mean so much?”

“Yeah, it has a ton of connotations to it,” Steve joked, smiling at you. 

You both went back to watching the documentary on your laptop, but there was something about this part of the conversation that didn’t feel over yet. You didn’t feel like you could just go back to watching this whale documentary as if you hadn’t just admitted the most embarrassing thing about your sex life.  

“Um, what about you, though?” You asked, and Steve looked at you again, a confused furrow to his eyebrows like he didn’t fully get what you meant by the question, so you elaborated. “What was shitty about your sex life?”

Steve was quiet at first, and for a second, you thought that maybe for the first time that night, you two had reached a question that was “too much,” or worse, there had been nothing bad about his sex life with his ex, so he had no answer to give you.  

“Um, she always wanted to do the same thing,” Steve finally answered after what felt like the longest stint of silence ever, and you were completely confused by that response. 

“What do you mean?”

“She only wanted to do missionary. Nothing else,” He explained. “And I know that it’s a classic, I get that completely, and it definitely is. But sometimes you just wanna change things up, y’know?”

You nodded instead of outwardly saying anything because you didn’t want to admit that aside from the lack of oral, your sex life with Elliott had been pretty good. 

“So, almost a year of just missionary?” You asked, and Steve gave you a nod that seemed equivalent to the one you’d given him when it was you answering this kind of question. “What would you do if you could choose?”

You noticed his cheeks turning the tiniest hint of pink as he considered the question. “Oh, um, girl on top, I think. That one’s pretty good.” 

You weren’t sure why you expected him to say something a little crazier, but you didn’t tell him that. 

“Good choice,” Was what you said instead. 

There was another lull in the conversation, and maybe that was where it should’ve finally ended, but there was something about it that still didn’t feel entirely over just yet. 

“I could—”

“We could—”

Your and Steve’s suddenly spoken words stumbled over each other and made you both stop abruptly.  

“What were you gonna say?” He asked.

You shook your head. “You can go first.”

“No, no, I’m a gentleman,” Steve told you, a small smile on his face. “So, ladies first.”

You rolled your eyes at him, but there was nothing serious behind it. “I was gonna say that maybe we could… Maybe we could help each other out. Like, show one another what the other was ‘missing out on’ while they were in their relationship.” You then rushed out your next words before Steve could respond to your previous ones. “What were you gonna say?”

“I was gonna say that I could do what your ex didn’t want to do for you.”

“Just me?” You asked, and he nodded. “Well, it wouldn’t be fair if you got nothing out of this.”

Steve gave you a quick shrug. “I wasn’t really thinking about me.”

You teasingly smiled at him. “Wow, you truly are a gentleman.”

He laughed. “I told you.”

“If we did actually do this, though,” You started. “I would also wanna do your thing too.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah. If you go down on me, I’ll happily ride you.” 

Finally outwardly saying the words made you laugh a little; you couldn’t help it. None of what was happening right then felt exactly weird, but it was definitely… surprising.  

“This is such an insane conversation,” Steve responded, laughing too. 

“Oh, yeah, it definitely is,” You said, looking away from him and focusing back on your laptop screen for a second. “We could just go back to watching the documentary and pretend this never happened.”

“Is that what you wanna do?”

“Not really, no,” You admitted. Logically, your answer probably should’ve been the opposite, but you honestly couldn’t imagine saying yes to his previous question and actually pretending that this conversation hadn’t happened. “Do you?”

Steve shook his head. “No.”

“Okay, so it’s settled then. Should we shake on this too?” You asked, mainly joking with your words. 

“Yes, definitely,” He said, playing along. “That’s the only way it will be real.”

You scooted a little closer to him, closing most of the space between you two on the couch, and then held out your hand. “So, deal?”

He grabbed your outstretched hand and shook it. “Deal.”

This was the second handshake shared between you two, but this one felt charged with something different than the one outside the bar. 

Steve’s hand was warm against yours, and you were also noticing how soft it was too. Your eyes stayed on his, and even though you didn’t really know him that well, if at all, you still felt as if you somehow understood what was going on in his head because it matched exactly what was happening in yours. 

With your hands still linked together, he pulled you closer, and then let go at the last second to find your cheek and slot his lips against yours. It was messy at first, a sudden clash of tongues and teeth, but it also felt really good, and it took only a second for you two to find your collective rhythm.  

Steve was a great kisser, which surprised you because first kisses with people were never this good, and they definitely never felt this right. There were always some sort of growing pains as you navigated what to do and figured out what the other wanted, but that somehow wasn’t the case for you and Steve. 

You definitely didn’t expect your first post-Elliott kiss to be damn near perfect, and you decided not to think too much about what exactly it meant that it was happening with Steve; a guy you’d barely known for two hours. 

“You’re really good at this,” You mumbled against his lips. 

“What? Kissing?” He whispered back in between each one. 

“Yeah.”

Steve pulled back to look at you, a small, amused smile playing on his lips. “Thanks. You’re really good too.”

You suddenly started feeling shy under his gaze, so you quickly leaned back in to get him to stop looking at you so sweetly. His hand still holding your cheek kept you steady and further warmed your already burning skin, and you let out the softest sound against his mouth when his free hand slipped beneath your shirt and found your waist, giving the bare skin a quick squeeze. 

You wanted to move out of this awkward side-by-side position and sit in his lap, but you also wanted to get off the couch completely, so you abruptly pulled away from him and stood up. Wordlessly, your hand found Steve’s again, and you led him to your bedroom. 

The second the door was closed behind you both, Steve’s mouth eagerly found yours again, which made you smile into the kiss, as he walked you back toward the bed. The second the backs of your knees hit the foot of the bed, he gently pushed you down on top of it.  

Before he could even ask or say anything, you were pulling your t-shirt off and tossing it somewhere to the side, and then doing the same with your pajama pants. The look he gave you as you now lay on your bed, half naked with only your bra and underwear on, made something stir in your stomach. 

“You okay up there?” You asked after a moment, making your voice light and playful, and also trying to push away the feelings that were starting to make a home in your stomach. 

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just… Fuck,” He let out a breath. “You’re really pretty.”

You had to turn your head and look away from him then, but you still couldn’t help but smile at his words as your cheek pressed into the blanket. 

This was just supposed to be another case of two people helping each other out. This wasn’t supposed to be so sweet and nice and serious, right? You weren’t sure, but you could inwardly admit that you liked hearing him call you pretty. 

You still weren’t looking, but you could feel Steve settle on top of you and lean in to press his lips to your exposed neck, making you let out a quiet moan. 

He sucked on your skin, a sensitive spot on the underside of your jaw that had you mewling for him, as his hand moved down toward your cunt. He pulled your underwear to the side and slowly pressed his middle finger into your slick folds. 

“Shit,” He mumbled against your neck. “You’re soaked.”

You let out a soft breath. “Like I said, you’re really good at this.”

He pulled away from your clit and out of your wetness completely and you let out a whine in protest, but then his fingers were hooking into the waistband of your underwear and dragging them down your legs. Your bra was next, and you sat up a bit so that he could unhook it and toss it to the side. 

“Fuck,” Steve said, leaning back to simply just look at you for a moment. “You look so perfect for me.”

You were completely naked now, and he was still fully clothed, but you didn’t even feel shy under his lust-filled gaze because you really liked the way he was looking at you in this moment.

Before you could make any move to grab at the ends of his t-shirt to at least pull that off of him, his mouth was on you once again, pressing a quick kiss to your lips and then moving to your neck and continuing lower and lower. 

Your eyes slipped shut, and you let out the softest sounds as he slowly trailed down your stomach and went to your hips and then to your inner thighs, teasingly pressing his mouth against your warm skin at every spot. You felt his hands hook around your thighs and pull you closer to him. 

“Hey,” Steve said to grab your attention, and your eyes met his. Looking at him with his head between your legs and his mouth so close to where you needed him to be was probably the hottest thing you’d ever seen. “Tell me if you want me to do anything differently, okay?”

You nodded before softly saying, “Okay.”

Your head fell back against the bed when his tongue ran a long slow stripe up your slit. He stopped at your clit, circling the bundle of nerves before latching his lips around it and giving it a quick suck. The gasp in pleasure and surprise you let out in response was immediate. 

After one too many rejections from Elliott, you told yourself that you didn’t like oral anyway, always reminding yourself of other times with past partners when it had been rushed and sloppy. But now you knew just how much you’d been lying to yourself because this felt fucking phenomenal. Steve’s mouth felt perfect on you, and there was nothing about this moment that felt rushed or half-baked, like he was just trying to quickly get to the next thing. 

He slipped two fingers inside of you, pushing in as deep as he could go and his mouth went to your clit again. Your fingers threaded through his hair as he lapped at the sensitive bundle of nerves. Steve could tell just how much you were enjoying yourself with every tug on his hair and the contented sounds you were making above him. 

His hand still on your thigh squeezed roughly as he started to suck hard on your clit, which pushed you closer and closer to the edge. It should’ve maybe felt a little embarrassing— how quickly he was about to make you come only from his mouth and fingers— but everything just felt so fucking good that you didn’t care how fast he was making the tight knot in your stomach feel as if it was going to explode. 

“Steve, I- I’m gonna… Fuck,” You trailed off with a loud moan. Words were alluding in this moment as Steve continued his ministrations against your dripping cunt; his mouth on the most sensitive part of you and his fingers deep inside you, curling against an almost too perfect spot.  

Your own fingers pulled a little harder at his dark locks, which made him moan against your clit and the vibrations from that abruptly sent you over the edge. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” The words fell from your lips in a sort of whispered chant as your back arched sharply off the bed and you saw stars behind your eyes. 

Steve continued exactly what he was doing as you came, your moans and whimpers sounding like music to his ears. He happily took and lapped at everything you gave him, absolutely loving the taste of you on his tongue. He continued to finger you and eat you out through your orgasm until he felt you become too overstimulated. 

“Fuck,” You squeaked out when his tongue did one final teasing lick against the sensitive bundle of nerves. “Fuck, that was really good.”

Steve pulled away, and he sat up a little, smiling as he watched you come down from your high. “I’m sorry you’ve had to miss out on that for the past two years.”

You let out a breath of a laugh. “Thank you for the condolences.” 

Your heart rate slowly returned to normal, and you turned to Steve, who was now sitting next to you, and you took notice of the obvious tint in his jeans. 

You reached out to palm his hard length. “Girl on top is what you wanted, right?”

He let out a low groan. “Mhm, yeah, but only if you want to do that.”

“Steve,” You said so his eyes would meet yours, and then you proceeded to give him the reassurance that it seemed so clear that he needed. “I really want to do that for you.”

He looked at you so sweetly, and this time you didn’t look away, you simply just smiled back at him as you crawled into his lap. 

Your fingers immediately grabbed the ends of his t-shirt to pull it up and off of him. “Let’s make things even, yeah?”

He nodded, and you shifted back a bit so that you could work on the button of his jeans. You then lifted your hips so that he could push his jeans and boxers down his legs and off him completely. 

Your eyes became glued to his hard cock. You didn’t really know what you were expecting, but he was huge and you could feel yourself becoming wetter at the thought of him filling you up. 

“You have such a pretty cock, Steve,” You whispered as you wrapped a hand around him and brushed your thumb over his slick tip. He groaned in pleasure, and one of his hands immediately found your hip in response, squeezing the bare skin. 

A part of you wanted him to be rougher; you honestly didn’t mind the thought of finding Steve-shaped bruises on your skin in the morning. However, you didn’t tell him that because this moment wasn’t about you.  

“Does that feel good?” You asked instead, voice soft and gentle, as if you couldn’t tell the answer to your question just by all the sounds Steve was making and by the way he was twitching in your hand. 

“Perfect,” He groaned out, eyes meeting yours just for a second before he was looking down and watching as you kept slowly stroking him from base to tip. “Fucking perfect.”

You smiled and wondered if this was how he felt when the roles were reversed and you were the one who was a mess below him. 

“Shit, I need,” Steve let out a strangled breath and his head fell back against the headboard with a soft thud. “Really need to be inside of you.”

You nodded, even though he wasn’t looking at you, and let go of him to reach over and grab a condom from your nightstand drawer.  

Steve watched as you tore open the foil packet and slipped the condom on his cock; it was probably one of the hottest things he’d ever seen. 

“Do you want me to turn around and take it that way, or like, how do you want this?” You asked, meeting his half lidded eyes as you went back to stroking his cock. After what he’d just done for you, you wanted this to be perfect for him. 

“No, I wanna see you,” He said, free hand coming up to gently stroke your cheek. 

You could feel your skin warm under his touch; somehow, that felt like the most intimate thing he’d done to you so far tonight. You nodded at his words instead of saying anything because you were pretty certain your words would’ve failed you anyway. 

You lifted your hips so that you could line him up with your slick entrance and then your eyes met his as you slowly lowered yourself onto him, completely taking his cock inside of you. 

Your and Steve’s collective moans filled the quiet air, and you were the one to break eye contact with him because your eyes were pinching shut. 

Both of his hands shot to your hips to keep you from moving, which was good because you needed a moment to adjust to the feeling of being so full of him.  

“Shit, I’m gonna fucking explode if you move right now,” Steve mumbled, looking down at how well you were taking him. 

“That’s okay,” You told him softly. Your hands rested on his shoulders for a quick moment, and then they tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. 

He let out a chuckle and met your gaze. “I want this to last more than two seconds.” One of his hands came up to find your breast. “And I also want you to come with me.”

You hummed at the feeling of his fingers squeezing your already hard nipple. “Still such a gentleman.”

Steve laughed again, and that sound turned into a low groan when you lifted your hips ever so slightly and then sank back down onto him. 

“God, you feel so good,” He rambled out. “Taking me so fucking well.”

His words sent a jolt of pleasure through your body. “‘M so full.”

“Yeah?” Steve asked teasingly, and you simply nodded, words failing you the moment he pushed up into you. 

Whatever control you had was lost. You were technically riding him, but he was doing most of the work, and it seemed as if that was exactly what he wanted. He had a near-bruising grip on your hips as he guided your movements and hit all of the right places with each thrust. 

Your face became buried in his neck when it all felt like too much. “Fuck, I’m so close.” 

Your words were whispered against his soft skin, and you could feel his nod in response. “Yeah, me too.”

He slipped a hand between your bodies so that he could find your clit and you sucked in a breath when his thumb started circling it.

“I wanna see you,” He groaned when he felt you clench around his cock, and at first all you could do was hum against his skin in response. “I wanna see you come for me.”

You pulled back and met his gaze, hands finding his bare shoulders to keep you steady. It was harder to do than you expected because of how much you wanted to let your eyes slip shut and simply just take everything Steve was giving you. 

“Hi,” You softly said to him instead of closing your eyes or letting your head fall back in pleasure due to his teasing strokes against your clit. 

“Hi,” He gave you a smile that made your stomach flutter and his hand on your hip pulled you harder against his cock. “You gonna come for me?”

You could only moan in response and give him a meek nod, forcing your eyes to stay on his. The knot in your stomach was tightening and tightening, almost ready to completely unravel. 

“Go ahead,” He said as he thrusted up into you. “Let go.”

“Ah,” You dug your nails into his shoulders the second your orgasm hit you. He looked at you so fondly, like he truly cared about making you feel good, and that only made you come harder, walls fluttering around his cock. 

You once again buried your face in the crook of his neck, sucking the skin and leaving red marks that would be there later. You landed on what you would later realize was an especially sensitive spot on his neck because the second your tongue grazed over it, Steve was letting out a loud moan and spilling into the condom. 

“Fuck,” He muttered as he came and his hands squeezed your hips to keep you firmly planted on his cock. 

You pulled away from his neck to watch him come apart beneath you. It was probably the prettiest thing you'd ever seen— his blown-out pupils, his mouth slightly parted in a moan, and a few locks of his messy hair falling against his forehead. 

Your and his movements slowed as you both came down from your highs. With his hands still on you, he shifted things so that you two were lying sideways on the bed. His softening cock slipped out of you in the process and you couldn’t help but quietly whine at the feeling. 

You two became a tangle of limbs and warm bodies, and your arms circled around his neck to push yourself even closer to him. 

“Was that good for you?” You asked, soft words hitting right against his ear. “You did like all of the work when it should’ve been the opposite.” 

His fingers began mindlessly stroking the bare skin of your back. “No, that was really good.” 

“Mm,” You hummed in response. “Okay, but it does slightly feel like I ended up getting a better outcome to the deal than you.” 

Steve let out a laugh at your playful words as he pulled away from you, and it took a lot of willpower to not protest his actions and keep him close to you. He pointed at a door, silently asking if that was where the bathroom was, and you nodded in response and he headed in.

You got up from your bed and started picking up the clothes that had been haphazardly thrown around the room. You slipped on your t-shirt and underwear, and when Steve emerged from the bathroom, you handed him his shirt and boxers.

It almost felt a little comical remembering that when you first let Steve into your apartment, you inwardly told yourself that you weren’t gonna have sex with him, and this wouldn’t turn into a one-night stand type of situation. 

And now here you two were. 

However, weirdly enough, the thought of this moment following the typical one-night stand rules— Steve leaving right now and you two never seeing each other again— didn’t sit right with you. 

“Have you really not seen Home Alone 2 before?” You asked Steve as he finished slipping on his t-shirt. The talk of that movie had been such a minor moment in the conversation at the bar earlier, but still, you remembered him mentioning it. 

“No, I haven’t,” He answered. 

“Me neither, actually,” You told him. Christmas movies had never really been your favorites. “Do you maybe wanna watch it now?”

You knew what your words meant— that you didn’t want him to leave yet, that you wanted him to stay a little longer— and he understood that too. 

He gave you a small smile and nodded. “Okay. And this is probably the best time to also admit that I’ve never seen the first one either.”

You let out a laugh as you headed into your living room, where your laptop was still playing the documentary from earlier, and Steve followed right behind you. “Okay, double feature it is, then.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know your thoughts<333

[firewasabeast]

The Kid Isn’t Okay

a little bucktommy fic. tags: mcd, grief, hurt/comfort. read below or on ao3.

Buck had stopped crying by the time they brought out Bobby’s body. Those final words kept repeating in his mind, a reminder of what he needed to do and who he needed to be.

He passed by Tommy without a word. Got in the rig and drove it back to the 118.

B shift was already there. The place was quiet. Everyone stared. No one asked questions.

He went straight to his locker, grabbed a change of clothes, and headed for the showers.

He cleaned the day off of him. Washed away the sweat, the dirt, the dried tears.

Once he had changed, he picked up his duffel, dug out his keys, and made a beeline for his car.

His phone buzzed. He had a missed call and text from Maddie, a text from Tommy too. He replied to Maddie first.

Gonna head home for a bit. I’ll be at the hospital later. Text me if you need anything.

He looked at Tommy’s message next. A simple question. Evan, are you okay?

He took a deep breath. His hand shook. He squeezed it into a fist until it stopped.

He answered.

I’m okay. Thank you for your help today. Sorry if I got you in too much trouble. If you need me to talk to someone, let me know.

He dropped his phone into the passenger seat and he drove home. He ignored the sounds of more messages coming through.

*****

Buck didn’t remember Eddie until he walked into his house.

He answered on the third ring. “Buck? Why are you calling me right now? What’s wrong?”

Buck didn’t even know the time. Could have been two in the morning, maybe six. He wasn’t sure.

“Bobby,” he breathed out.

Silence on the other end of the line.

Buck checked to make sure the call hadn’t dropped.

“When?” Eddie asked.

“Tonight. Not… Not long ago. It’s- everyone else is okay. Chim and Hen are in the hospital but they’ll be fine. Ravi’s alright. Just… it’s just Bobby.”

“Okay.” A pause. Eddie cleared his throat. “I’ll get the earliest flight.”

“There’s no plans yet or anything,” Buck told him. “I- no one knows when the service will be.”

“I wanna be there anyway. Buck, are… how are you?”

“I’m alright.”

“Buck-”

“No, I… Really, Eddie. I’m okay. Let me know when your flight gets in.”

He hung up before Eddie could get in another word.

*****

He took Jee the next day, so Maddie could spend a little extra time at the hospital.

“She can stay here with me, Buck,” Maddie whispered, Chimney sleeping nearby. “I brought crayons and coloring books. She’ll be fine.”

“No, I know. But a kid doesn’t wanna sit in a hospital room all day, and you need to be here with Chim.” He looked down at Jee, who was holding onto his hand, waiting to go. “We’ll have a good day, won’t we Jee?”

“Yeah!”

“Yeah, we will!”

Maddie smiled at Jee, the smile fading when she glanced back up at Buck. “I’ll pick her up on my way home. I’ll probably leave around five.”

“No problem. She can stay the night if you need her to.”

Maddie reached out to give Buck’s arm a squeeze. “Are you sure about this, Evan? You really don’t have to. I know-”

“I’m okay, Maddie,” he interrupted. “I promise. Now Jee and I have some ice cream to go eat, don’t we Jee?”

“Oh! Yes!”

“Alright, say bye to your mom and we’ll go.”

Jee wrapped her arms around Maddie’s waist, giving her a hug. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Baby. Be good for Uncle Buck, okay?”

“Oh, she will,” Buck guaranteed with a smile. “We’ll have a great day.”

*****

Buck took his place at the head of Bobby’s casket. The weight of it was lighter than he expected, even when sharing it with five others.

He went through the motions at the procession. Stared at the firetruck in front of him as he and everyone else took each solemn step.

He didn’t look in Tommy’s direction.

Could feel him staring though. Could feel his eyes burning a hole into his head.

He focused on the task at hand.

Focused on getting Bobby to his final resting place.

It needed to be perfect.

Bobby deserved that.

His plot at the cemetery was a great location. A large tree overhead to provide shade. He’d have a big gravestone soon, engraved to show just how much his people cared for him.

There would be a bench too. Somewhere to sit when his family came to visit.

Buck stood there as they lowered him into the ground. Kept standing there until he could hear familiar footsteps coming up behind him.

Tommy.

He moved then. Avoiding a conversation that wasn’t needed.

The cemetery was nice.

Buck was okay with it.

*****

The 118 and Tommy were all gathered in a huddle at the reception, telling stories that no one else could understand. They’d joke, laugh for a bit, and then the bitter reminder of why they were there would spring up again.

“I keep thinking about it,” Eddie said between sips of his beer. “I should have been here.”

Hen shook her head. “Be glad you weren’t.”

“I just keep thinking, if I had been there then maybe… maybe it would’ve been different. Maybe Cap would still be here.”

Tommy, who had been keeping an eye on Buck all day, noticed an instant shift. His eyes lost focus, his finger tapping at the cup in his hand.

He took a silent step back, then another, before turning and walking away from the group.

Tommy followed.

“Evan,” he said, trying to get his attention without drawing anyone else’s. “Evan.” He jogged a couple of steps to reach him, planting a hand on his shoulder. “Evan?”

Buck stopped, turned. “What’s up?”

“It wasn’t a slight at you.”

“I dunno what you’re talking about.”

There was a light missing from his eyes. A void in its place. He was looking at Tommy, but Tommy didn’t feel like he was seeing him.

“Evan.” He moved closer, making sure no one was close enough to listen. “You did everything you could. Nothing and no one would have changed the outcome.”

Buck’s eyebrows furrowed. “I know that.”

“Evan.”

“I’m fine, Tommy,” Buck said defensively, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I’m going to get something to eat. Is that okay with you?”

Tommy’s shoulders dropped, lips in a tight line. “I just wanted to check on you, Evan. That’s all. I’m, um, I’m gonna be heading out in a minute.”

“Okay, well, I’m good here. Thanks for, uh, for all you did. See ya.” He was walking away before he finished the sentence, before Tommy could fully register the words coming out of his mouth.

Tommy left the reception ten minutes later. He couldn’t help but notice the empty parking spot where Evan’s car once was.

*****

A knock on his door had Buck rushing out from the bathroom. He hadn’t been home long. Had just gotten changed after a quick shower.

His hair was still damp, skin still warm from the water.

He wasn’t sure who could be on the other side. Maybe Maddie, wondering why he left so quickly. Maybe Eddie changed his mind about staying at the hotel another night.

What he didn’t expect was for Tommy to be standing there, a deep look of concern on his face.

“Wh- What are you-”

“I wanted to check on you,” he said, breezing past Buck as he walked into the house, uninvited.

Buck swung the door shut, then turned to him. “I told you earlier that I was fine.”

“I know what you said,” Tommy replied with a curt nod. “I just don’t believe you.”

Buck crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t really care what you be-”

“I saw you, when you were still in that building. I saw you break down in the hall.”

Buck sucked in a breath. He tried to play it off. “You should go.”

“I know how you’re really feeling," Tommy pushed, "and I know you’re not okay."

“Tommy, stop.”

“You’re shielding yourself from everyone and everything. You’re not allowing yourself to feel, Evan. This isn’t you. I know it’s not you.”

“He told me that I’d be okay!” Buck yelled suddenly, face becoming red with anger. Tears stung his eyes. “He told me they would need me! Said I’d be okay! He said that!”

“Oh, Evan-”

“No, I can’t!” He held up his hands in surrender. “I don’t need your sympathy, Tommy. I don’t need anything. I just need to be strong for them. I’m fine.”

Tommy stepped closer, stopping when Buck moved back to maintain distance. “Evan,” he started, voice calm and steady. “When people are… when they’re dying, they tell us what they think we need to hear. They tell us what they want for us. And sometimes, we can cling to that a little too tightly.”

“You don’t-”

“My mom. I was twelve, and I’ll never forget her telling me to keep my head up and not to cry for her. Evan, I- I know that Bobby wants you to be okay. Of course he does. And I know you want to be strong. But that’s not all you have to be. You’re allowed to be upset, you’re allowed to cry, or get mad, or need somebody. That’s not weakness. That’s love. You loved him, and he loved you. You’re allowed to hurt.”

Buck stood, silent, hands on his hips, eyes aimed towards the ground.

Tommy sighed. “Sorry. I- Sorry, Evan. I’ll go.”

As Tommy walked passed him, heading for the door, Buck reached his hand out, grabbing onto Tommy’s.

Tommy froze.

“He told me he loved me.”

“Evan.”

“He was th- the father I never had and I… I just… I- I-” his voice broke, his lip trembled, and the dam burst. He fell into Tommy, who barely managed to catch him and bring them gently to the ground. “I’m n- not okay, Tommy,” he wailed, barely able to suck in a breath. He clutched onto Tommy’s sleeve, tears soaking through his shirt. “I’m not okay, I’m not okay.”

“I know, I know,” Tommy soothed, holding Buck as close as he could.

“It h- hu… hurts so bad.”

“I know it does. It’s okay.”

“Please, T- Tommy, please d- don’t leave. I need... I need-”

“I’m not going anywhere, Evan,” Tommy promised. “I’m here. I’m staying.”

[janecafe]

future spouse's pac: reasons why they choose to love you every time

uno - dos - tres

paid readings available here

masterlist

©janecafe 2025

˚⊱🍀⊰˚

₊˚ʚ 𝐔𝐍𝐎 🪅 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

i just wanna be more authentic here. your person is a class that doesn't believe in love, they think it's just human fabricated and imagination well perhaps this may be because they have not yet experienced the feeling of "love". their beliefs and practices affecting their perspectives of what love really looks like. i think they're insecure about themselves and may have a gloomy heart about the topic of affection. so the time they infatuated with you, they will experience many first times. the reason why this person love you so much is that you were the first person to show care for them, it's like a natural characteristics of you.

i think you will work with them, in a project. it will take months for this person to grow feelings and as the time you're gonna know about their feelings, it's also gonna take more time for you to mirror these emotions with them. this seems like a slow burn yet a very assured love. when i say it was their first time to be in love, i speak about--a real love, the feeling is different and because they love you because of you.

the second thing is that you're not afraid to show yourself well despite the hesitation and nervousness you feel inside most of the time. you have this mindset where; "who's gonna do this? i have no one to rely on but myself needs me more". because of this positive aspect it's energizing you to do the task completely. i heard you might be insecure and have a public speaking anxiety but this bright side of your profile always gets you to wake up in reality. although your voice comes out in a full you can feel and hear your heart banging loudly inside when interacting with strangers. i feel that you have a high frequency, you may frequently noticed people at the public, staring at you without any reason. sometimes you felt awkward and embarrassed.

another thing to add to the list is that, despite that you are someone who is quiet and gentle. you have a great humor, i think people who are close to you like your jokes but most of the time these gags are overlay from you telling the truth. its like you are saying what's real behind those. well, this person will love your humour too. you are making them laugh even with their bad days, it makes their cheeks hurt. most of time, people don't understand the two of you because you two are the ones who master of each other's understanding. they love how you try your best understand them in every way possible without judgement this is how they fall deeper to you to the point they are willing to protect you to those people who would try to harm you physically or emotionally.

₊˚ʚ 𝐃𝐎𝐒 🪅 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

ohh, la la la. they be willing to be stripped and get cold for you. love makes them crazy, i think they have a circle where most of their friends are in love in such a way they tell themselves that, "love makes you an idiot and crazy bet i'll never be like that" not until you come and knock the hell out of them. their perception on love turned around like 360°, is indeed make them insane. they feel you are so rare that's why they have a strong feelings for you. even in afterlife, they be willing to chase and make love with you haha. this reading becoming out of the topic, well the thing that makes them choose to love you is that, you give them an unquestionable loyalty.

you show them the best version of themselves which they didn't know before because all this time they think they already reach that--- that they reach the top of themselves. your presence makes a huge difference to them. it's not a big deal, it's neither your fault for them to change but it was their decision. they embrace and love it. another thing is that you are a home and a light, it's like a feeling of waking up that sunlight hitting your face. they love it when you give the best comfort especially when they really need one.

i think they will pursue you in such a very long way and with the time you are gonna them love too. they'll be like; "finally, my happiness choose me". from their expectations and imagination they already love the life that you two were building.

you are their muse of art. the root of their inspiration. the star in the darkest days. they can metaphor you with everything, make you poems with so fondness of words. they're lucky that they are able to love and see you in this lifetime. and the day they will meet you, is the day they will share their wind-gentle love story.

₊˚ʚ 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒 🪅 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

the first thing i heard is that--- you make them marveled in love. they love how you send cute messages whenever they're at work. they think you are the most unexpected thing that happens in their life, they didn't expect you to come and boom their world. you shake things up i swear. they feel that they're bad person and nobody will ever love, they feel that they don't deserve you and their love. but you make them realize that love can make change. love makes you better. they love how patience you are with them and they are so forever grateful for that.

i think you give your best to match their energy and they really do appreciate your efforts. this slaps them that you are the one that they are willing to spend with for the rest of their lives. they want to love you much better than you do to them.

they also love your kisses and hugs. it makes their knees weak. and trust me, they'll try their best to match and give you the best communication. your encouragement and care was the ones they choose to love you every day.

another thing, they appreciate and have a soft spot for you when they take care of them when they are sick. when you make them food even though they don't usually ask for it. although most of the time you make something stupid they realize that you are the person they want for the rest of their life. i considered that their love for you was better and stronger than others.

˚⊱🍀⊰˚

[uncuredturkeybacon]

𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚎 || 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚐𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

in which one night changed everything

The atmosphere from the stage was still buzzing in your bones.

You’d just wrapped your sold-out show in New York, the city’s skyline glittering like applause, and the rush of it all—the screams, the lights, the way the crowd had sung your lyrics back at you—was impossible to shake off. So when your manager asked if you wanted to head back to the hotel, you grinned, slid your sunglasses back on even though it was well past 11pm, and said, “I feel like dancing.”

Which is how you ended up here: in a club in SoHo, drink in hand, bass vibrating through your chest, trying to let the night swallow you whole.

Until you crash right into someone.

“Oh, shit—” you blurt, watching your drink spill straight down the front of a tall blonde’s jacket and shirt. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

The girl takes a half step back, blinking at the wet mess now soaking her clothes. But instead of freaking out, she just laughs. A soft, breathy kind of laugh that catches you off guard.

“It’s fine,” she says, brushing at the wet fabric. “Honestly. I’ve had worse fouls.”

You blink. “Are you... sure? I literally just baptized you in tequila.”

She smiles then—kind of sideways, kind of cocky—and that’s when it clicks.

You know that face.

“Wait… aren’t you Paige Bueckers?”

She arches a brow. “Guilty.”

You laugh, then clap a hand over your mouth. “God, this is so embarrassing. First time meeting you and I immediately drench you. Nice to meet you, I’m a walking disaster.”

“Well, I like disasters,” she says, grinning. “Especially ones with good taste in tequila.”

You laugh again, this time more relaxed, her tone somehow instantly calming.

“Can I at least buy you another drink to make up for it?” you ask, already half-turning toward the bar.

She hesitates for a second, like she’s about to say no, but then: “Only if you drink it with me.”

So you do. And then one turns into two, and then the crowd starts to feel too close, too loud, too much. She leans toward you, her lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Wanna find a quieter corner? Or ditch this place completely?”

You look at her, at the little dimple in her cheek, the warmth in her eyes, the way she’s looking at you like you’re the most interesting thing in this club.

“Let’s get outta here,” you say.

The New York night air hits like a wave of clarity. It’s cooler now, streets still buzzing, the hum of late-night taxis and laughter in the distance.

You and Paige start walking, no destination in mind.

“So,” she says, stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets. “You always that graceful with drinks?”

You groan. “Don’t remind me. I swear I’m not usually a hazard.”

“No complaints here,” she teases. “It’s probably the most memorable way I’ve ever met someone.”

You glance over at her. “So you’re saying I made an impression.”

“Oh, definitely,” she says, nudging your shoulder. “You sing and spill drinks. Real triple threat.”

You laugh, heart fluttering unexpectedly. “You were at the concert, weren’t you?”

“I was,” she admits. “I’ve been a fan for a while now. Didn’t expect to end the night wearing your drink, though.”

“Hey, you’re lucky it wasn’t red wine. I’ve ruined tour outfits with that before.”

She smirks. “Good to know. I’ll make a note, don’t let you near wine in public.”

You both fall into a rhythm as you walk, trading jokes and stories like you’ve known each other for longer than the hour you’ve shared. The city fades around you, becoming background noise to the conversation.

She tells you about basketball, how weird fame can feel, how much she misses home sometimes. You tell her about tour life, how lonely it can get between cities, how much it means when people connect with your lyrics.

“Do you ever feel like... even when you're surrounded by people, you're still kinda alone?” you ask, not really sure why you're getting this vulnerable. Maybe it’s the way she listens—like she actually cares. Maybe it’s the tequila. Maybe it’s just her.

“All the time,” she says. “Especially when I’m traveling or doing press. It’s like... everyone's around, but no one really sees you, you know?”

You nod. “Exactly.”

There’s a pause. A comfortable one.

“You’re easy to talk to,” she says quietly.

You smile, glancing at her. “You too.”

You reach the edge of a small park. She gestures toward a bench. “Sit for a minute?”

You nod, and the two of you collapse onto the bench like it’s your own little world.

“So, real question,” Paige says, turning to face you slightly. “Do you always run into basketball players after your concerts, or am I just lucky?”

You laugh softly, “Very lucky. It’s usually just fans and a very enthusiastic sound guy named Trevor.”

She grins. “Trevor sounds like competition.”

“Trust me, Trevor’s happily married. To my lighting designer.”

“Well then,” she says, leaning back, stretching her legs out. “Guess I’ve got a shot.”

Your heart stutters, just a bit.

“Oh yeah?” you ask, playful.

“Yeah.” She turns her head, looking at you with those soft blue eyes. “Would it be crazy if I asked for your number?”

You blink, heat blooming in your cheeks. “No. It wouldn’t be crazy at all.”

You grab her phone and type it in, your name saved with a little sparkle emoji at the end. When you hand it back, she’s smiling like she just won a game-winner.

“I’m really glad I ran into you tonight,” she says, voice soft now. Almost like she’s shy.

You look at her—at the way the streetlight catches in her hair, at the gentle curve of her lips—and your heart does something weird and warm.

“Me too,” you say honestly.

It’s almost 3am when you finally call it a night. She walks you to your hotel, hands deep in her pockets again, the city quieter now.

At the door, she pauses. “Hey. If I text you tomorrow, you’ll answer, right?”

You grin. “I’ll be waiting.”

She starts to turn away, then glances back, her smile small but real. “Goodnight, mystery singer.”

“Goodnight, soaked-in-tequila basketballer.”

You both laugh, and then she’s walking down the street, head ducked slightly, like she’s trying to hide how much she’s smiling.

You watch until she turns the corner and disappears.

And somehow, you already know—this won’t be the last time you see her.

Your phone buzzes the next morning before your eyes even open.

You groan, roll over, and blindly reach for it on the nightstand. One eye cracks open.

Unknown Number: Is it too early to say I miss talking to you?

You blink. Then grin.

Tequila-soaked Paige Bueckers apparently turned into Smooth Paige Bueckers overnight.

You sit up, rubbing your face, the memory of last night rolling in slow and warm—her laugh, the way she said your name, that quiet moment on the park bench. It already feels like a dream.

You text back:

You: I don’t know, Paige. We’ve known each other for, what, 6 hours? This might be moving too fast.

She replies immediately.

Paige: Damn, already getting curved.

Paige: Can I at least take you out before you block me?

You grin, flopping back against the pillows, heart beating a little too fast for someone just out of bed.

You: Depends. What does a Paige Bueckers date look like?

Paige: Lowkey. Chill. Snacks are guaranteed. Good conversation. Great company, if I’m lucky.

You: You’re cheesy. I kinda like it.

Paige: Good. ‘Cause I kinda like you.

You stare at that one for a second too long. Then—

You: Pick me up at 7. No drinks involved this time.

Paige: Deal. No tequila. Just me and my charisma.

She picks you up outside your hotel exactly at 7, dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a UConn hoodie that’s definitely too comfortable-looking to hate.

You slide into the passenger seat, glancing at her. “Points for being punctual.”

She smirks. “Would’ve been earlier, but I had to make sure I looked cute enough to impress a superstar.”

You roll your eyes, hiding your smile. “You clean up well, Bueckers.”

“And you,” she says, eyes dragging down to your outfit—just simple jeans and a bomber jacket, but the way she looks at you makes it feel like a red carpet moment, “look... dangerous.”

You laugh, cheeks warming. “This is why you played point guard, isn’t it? All smooth talk and clever moves.”

She shrugs. “I just see the opening and go for it.”

Instead of some fancy spot, she takes you to a rooftop food truck park in Brooklyn that you never would’ve found on your own. There’s string lights overhead, picnic tables, music playing from someone’s speaker, and people just vibing.

You both grab tacos and sit at a table tucked near the edge, the skyline stretching behind her like it’s part of the scene.

“You weren’t lying,” you say, taking a bite. “Great food, good company. You’re off to a good start.”

She grins, chewing thoughtfully. “Glad I didn’t blow it.”

You laugh. “Not yet.”

For a while, you just talk.

About music. About basketball. About growing up with big dreams and trying not to let them crush you. She asks about your first time on stage. You ask about her first time hitting a game-winner. She leans in when you talk about your new album, the one you’ve been pouring your soul into. You listen closely when she tells you about rehab and injuries, how hard it is to sit on the bench when all you want to do is fight.

“You’re more than just your game, you know,” you say, eyes softening as you watch her.

She blinks, surprised. “Not a lot of people say that.”

“Well, not a lot of people really see you, do they?”

She doesn’t say anything at first, just looks at you. And then she nods, a tiny smile curling at her lips. “I think you do.”

It’s nearly midnight again by the time she drives you back. She parks in front of your hotel and turns off the engine, but neither of you makes a move to leave.

You glance at her. “So... you planning to ghost me after this?”

Her head whips around. “What? No. Never.”

You smirk. “Just checking.”

Paige looks at you for a second, eyes full of something soft. “Can I be honest?”

You nod.

“I wasn’t planning to go out after your concert. I’m not even a club person. But my friend dragged me out, and… you crashing into me was the best accident of my month. Maybe longer.”

Your throat tightens a little at that. “You’re not too bad yourself, Bueckers.”

A beat passes.

“I wanna see you again,” she says quietly.

You lean in, just enough for her to notice, but not enough to push.

“I’d like that.”

She smiles, and it’s the kind that hits deep. The kind that stays with you.

“I’ll text you tomorrow,” she says.

“You better.”

You squeeze her hand before stepping out, heart fluttering stupidly in your chest.

And as you walk into the lobby, you check your phone.

Paige: I already miss talking to you again. Goodnight, pretty girl.

You bite your lip, smiling like a complete idiot.

You: Goodnight, smooth talker. Dream of me.

Paige: I will.

The next morning, you get a text from paige, a very vague one, to meet you at an address. The only thing she told you was to dress as if you were to workout. You questioned her, but all she sent you was he basketball emoji..

You show up in sneakers and sunglasses, trying to look chill but already sweating under the sun and nerves.

Paige’s standing under the chain-link fence, basketball spinning in one hand, the other casually in her hoodie pocket like she’s in some Nike ad. She sees you and grins.

“There she is,” she calls, tossing the ball to you. “You warm up, or should I go easy?”

You catch the ball with a fake glare. “You better go very easy. If I break an ankle, my tour manager will come for you.”

She laughs. “Deal. But only because you’re cute.”

You flush. She doesn’t even try to hide the smile that follows.

She does go easy—at first.

You start off playing HORSE. She nails everything effortlessly: off the backboard, spin move into a jumper, even a ridiculous one-legged fadeaway that makes you double over laughing.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you say between laughs. “You’re good. You’re like... disgustingly good.”

She grins. “Your form isn’t bad. Just needs... you know. A few years of elite training and a God-tier jumper.”

You fake pout. “That’s all?”

She walks over, dribbles behind her back, and then stands behind you, pressing a hand lightly to your back.

“Here,” she murmurs, positioning your elbow. “Relax your wrist more.”

Your breath catches a little at how close she is, how gentle her voice turns when she’s focused. You glance back at her, and she smiles softly.

“There you go. Now try.”

You shoot.

It bounces off the rim.

“Tragic,” you say.

She grins. “We’ll work on it.”

Later, you sit side by side on the edge of the court, water bottles in hand, the late-afternoon sun dripping gold across the pavement.

“That was surprisingly fun,” you say.

Paige nudges your leg. “You didn’t even cry after I beat you. I’m impressed.”

“Oh, I’m crying inside.”

She laughs, head tilted toward the sky, and for a second, the noise of the city fades into background static.

“You ever write love songs?” she asks, voice quieter now.

You look at her, tilt your head. “Yeah. All the time.”

“Anyone ever write one about you?”

You shrug. “I don’t think so.”

She nods slowly. “You should be someone’s muse.”

The way she says it—like it’s already written in her—makes something stir in your chest.

“Maybe I’ll write one about this,” you say, trying to keep it light. “Tequila, HORSE, getting coached on a public court.”

She laughs. “I better get a writing credit.”

You smirk. “You’ll get the bridge.”

The sun dips below the buildings by the time she walks you back to your place. You reach your door, both lingering again like last time.

“This was fun,” you say.

“Yeah,” she murmurs, rubbing the back of her neck. “More fun than I expected, honestly.”

You bite your lip. “Is that your way of saying you like hanging out with me?”

She leans against the doorframe, close enough that you can smell her cologne again.

“I love hanging out with you.”

A pause.

“I don’t want this to just be... like, a New York thing,” she says, quietly.

Your heart stutters. “I don’t either.”

She looks relieved. “Good. Because I wanna keep seeing you. And texting you. And maybe... calling you just to hear your voice.”

You smile, stepping a little closer. “You can call. But only if you sing backup on my next album.”

She raises a brow. “Even if I can’t sing?”

“Especially if you can’t. It'll keep you humble.”

She laughs, shaking her head. Then her eyes drift to your lips, and for a moment, the air changes.

She doesn’t kiss you—yet—but she tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and murmurs, “Goodnight, superstar.”

And just like that, she’s walking back down the hallway again, hands in her pockets, heart probably racing just like yours.

You’re somewhere between Paris and Berlin when the first wave of really missing her hits.

It’s late. You're curled up on the leather couch in your tour bus, city lights slipping past the window like streaks of gold. The after-show adrenaline is still buzzing in your chest, but it’s quieter now. Less electric. Less... full.

Your phone lights up,

Paige: Hey, superstar, just finished practice. Everything hurts. I’d kill to hear your voice right now.

A smile find its way on your face, heat creeping up your neck. You quickly click on her contact, hearing it ring twice before you see her face pop up on the other side.

“Superstar!”

She looked exhausted but still was excited to hear your voice. You started taking about anything, just wanting to be in the presence of each other even thousands of miles away. 

“Play me something?” she asks, seeing your guitar on your lap.

You strum softly, trying to find the right chords. You made up some lyrics on the spot, something about missing someone in the quiet moments. You could see her eyes starting to close, the weight of the day finally catching up to her, but before she fell asleep, you heard her mumble.

“You’re gonna make me emotional before bed huh? That was beautiful. You always sound like home.”

You let your eyes linger on her face as she falls asleep.The distance grows louder over the next couple of weeks.

She’s in Dallas, grinding through practices and media days, trying to earn her minutes. You’re bouncing from Amsterdam to Rome, meeting fans and filling arenas—but something always feels missing.

At night, you call each other.

Sometimes it’s FaceTime at 1am your time, where she’s brushing out her curls with a hoodie on, sitting on her kitchen floor with a smoothie and sleepy eyes.

Sometimes it’s you whispering in a stairwell, your voice hoarse after a show, as she talks you down from the chaos of being known.

One night, the call turns heavier.

You’re in a hotel room in Madrid, lying on your back in the dark. Paige is on the other end, quiet.

“You still there?” you whisper.

“Yeah,” she says softly. “Just thinking.”

“What about?”

“You.”

Your breath catches.

“This is gonna sound dumb,” she continues. “But sometimes I think about how easy it would be to let this fade. Like, I know the world wants us to let things go when they get hard.”

You stay silent, listening.

“But I don’t want to let this go. Even if it means texting across time zones and calling you when I should be sleeping. Even if I have to miss your shows and you have to miss my games.”

“Paige,” you whisper, voice cracking, “I don’t want to let this go either.”

You hear her exhale on the other end, shaky.

“Okay,” she says. “Then we won’t.”

There’s a pause.

Then she adds, quietly, “When the season starts, I want you at a game. I don’t care if it’s one or five. I just... I want to look up in the stands and know you’re real. That this isn’t just a midnight thing.”

Your chest aches, full of something fierce and warm.

“I’ll be there,” you promise.

A week later, she texts you a photo: her standing on the Wings court in her new uniform. Number 5. Media day.

Paige: I’m officially a pro. Not bad, huh?

You: You look hot. Like, I’d-throw-my-bra-on-the-court hot.

Paige: You’re gonna make my pictures look weird cause you keep making me bush.

You: I will be framing those photos.

Paige: Keep gassing me up.

It’s not easy.

You miss her laugh, the way she casually touches your hand when she’s not thinking. She misses your voice in real time, not just in echoes.

But you keep showing up for each other.

In stolen hours. In blurry video calls. In the voice notes that fill the silence between spotlight and stadium.

And one night, after a sold-out show in Prague, you sit alone on a balcony, phone in hand.

You call her.

She picks up immediately.

“Hey, superstar,” she says, tired but warm.

You look at the sky, at the stars above a city you’ve never been to before.

“I think I’m falling for you,” you whisper.

There’s silence.

Then a quiet, breathless, “Yeah?”

You nod even though she can’t see it.

“Hard.”

You hear her swallow.

“I think I’ve been falling since the moment you spilled that drink on me.”

You laugh, tears springing to your eyes.

“I don’t know how this works,” you say honestly. “But I want to keep trying. With you.”

“I do too,” she says. “We’ll figure it out.”

A pause. Then—

“I love that it’s you.”

You whisper back, “Me too.”

You're in Venice when the song first hits you.

Not the full thing. Just a feeling. A line. A chord progression that won’t leave you alone.

You’re in the back room of a centuries-old venue, sunlight leaking through antique windows, your team buzzing around about stage setup and lighting angles—but all you can hear is the soft melody playing over and over in your head.

“I like me better when I’m with you…”

It slips out under your breath, almost a whisper. You don’t even realize you’ve picked up your guitar until you're already strumming the first few notes, chasing the rhythm that’s been living in your chest since that last late-night call with Paige.

You close your eyes and lean into the feeling.

“I knew from the first time, I’d stay for a long time…”

You hum the lyrics into your phone’s voice memo app, fingers dancing across the strings. You’re not writing for a crowd tonight. Not even for the label. Just... for her.

The next few days are a blur of writing sessions between sound checks and flights. You’re scribbling verses on napkins, whispering melodies into your phone while your head leans against cold hotel windows, everything wrapped in Paige's voice, her laugh, her sleepy texts from halfway across the world.

Paige: Just saw you announced the Italy show. The crowd’s gonna lose it. Wish I could be there.

You: I wish you could too.

Paige: What are you working on? I can feel the writer brain from here.

You: A new song.

Paige: Is it the sexy one or the sad one?

You: Plot twist: it’s the soft one.

Paige: I’m intrigued.

Paige: I like soft. Especially from you.

You don’t tell anyone you’re going to perform it.

It’s still raw. Still new. But something about tonight feels different. The air’s crisp, the square outside the venue in Milan is packed with fans, and your hands are itching to share something real.

So you slide it into the setlist—right before the encore, no announcement, no title.

Just you and your guitar under the lights.

You walk out on stage, soaking in the roar of the crowd, and then let the silence settle.

“This next one,” you say into the mic, “is about someone who makes me feel like the best version of myself. It’s new. It’s honest. Be gentle.”

The first chord hits and you swear your hands tremble.

But then you sing.

“To be young and in love in New York City To not know who I am but still know that I'm good long as you're here with me…”

The crowd quiets. It’s like the whole city is holding its breath.

Your voice wavers slightly when you hit the chorus—because suddenly, you see her.

There. In the third row. Hat pulled low, hoodie on, but you’d know her anywhere.

Paige Bueckers.

Smiling. Eyes glassy. Hands folded against her mouth like she’s seeing you for the first time all over again.

You falter for half a second, heart slamming against your ribs. She came.

You blink through it, focus, and sing directly to her like she’s the only person there.

“I like me better when I’m with you...”

Your voice breaks a little on the last line. The crowd cheers like they felt it too—but you’re only watching her, and she’s clapping with tears in her eyes, mouthing the words back to you even though she’s never heard the song before.

After the show, you rush backstage, adrenaline crashing through your chest, half expecting it to have been a dream. But she’s there, waiting in the hall.

When you see her, you don’t even hesitate.

You run.

She catches you in her arms, lifting you slightly off the ground like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You bury your face in her shoulder, laughing, crying, overwhelmed.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” you whisper.

She pulls back, brushing your hair from your face. “I wanted to surprise you. Took a red-eye right after practice. Nearly missed my connection.”

You cup her face, forehead to hers.

“I thought about you the whole time I wrote that song.”

She smiles, soft and teary. “I knew it was about me the second you started.”

A breathless laugh escapes you. “Of course you did.”

“You really like yourself better when you’re with me, huh?” she teases.

“I like everything better when I’m with you,” you say, voice breaking with truth.

She leans in and finally—finally—kisses you.

It’s slow. Deep. Everything you’ve been aching for since you left New York.

And in that moment, nothing else matters.

Not time zones. Not distance. Not the flashing cameras or the headlines.

Just her.

Just you.

You wake up to warm sunlight spilling through your hotel window and a very real Paige Bueckers fast asleep in your bed, her cheek squished against the pillow, hair a little wild from the night before, one hand still curled against your hip.

You smile.

You don’t move. You just watch her, soaking in the softest version of the girl who once had a tequila sunrise spilled all over her. The girl who now knows every version of you: stage star, sleepy mess, secret romantic.

She stirs eventually, blinking up at you.

“Hi,” she mumbles.

“Hi,” you say back, brushing a piece of hair from her face. “Still real?”

She nods, smile lazy. “Very real. Very jet lagged. But worth it.”

You spend the day wandering Milan like a pair of tourists with a shared secret.

Coffee and fresh pastries at a tiny café. You both try to pronounce cornetto with your best Italian accents and fail miserably. Paige dips hers in espresso and groans like it’s the best thing she’s ever tasted.

“I’m not going back to Dallas,” she says with her mouth full. “I live here now. I’m gonna play for... AC Milan Women’s Basketball or something.”

“That doesn’t exist,” you laugh.

“It will. I’ll start the team. Just to stay close to you.”

You explore side streets filled with blooming flower stands, boutiques, and locals on vespas. Paige snaps photos of you under every archway and old stone bridge, and you start teasing her about being your personal paparazzi.

“Smile,” she says, lifting her phone. “The light’s hitting you like you’re in a movie.”

“I am in a movie,” you grin. “You’re the love interest.”

She laughs, then slips her hand into yours without hesitation. No nerves. No hiding.

Just you and her.

You’re walking near the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II when you hear the first shutter.

A camera click. Then another.

You glance up and spot a guy with a long lens a few feet away, pretending to admire the architecture.

Then a girl with her phone out, eyes wide.

“Oh my God,” she whispers, clutching her friend’s arm. “It’s her. That’s them.”

You meet Paige’s eyes.

She squeezes your hand, calm. “You okay?”

You nod slowly. “Yeah. Are you?”

“Yeah,” she says. “I don’t want to hide. We can keep it private but I’d never want to keep you a secret.”

And with that, she leans in and presses a soft kiss to your cheek—right there, in the middle of the plaza, with people watching.

@/BasketballUniverse: Is that Paige Bueckers in Milan… holding hands with [Y/N] after their show last night???

@/WNBAUpdates: Paige really said “distance who?” and flew to Italy mid-preseason 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼 Love wins 🥹💙

@/concertswithY/N: I WAS THERE. I SAW THEM. She sang “I Like Me Better” and Paige was in the CROWD??!! They kissed after!!! I’m never recovering

@/PaigeBueckersFan69: so this means… that’s HER muse?? she wrote that song about HER???

Later that night, you're back at the hotel, scrolling through the chaos. You see blurry photos of you two on the street, kissing in front of a bookstore, laughing over lunch.

Some are stunning.

One shows Paige holding your hand while you reach up to adjust her sunglasses.

Another shows her staring at you like you hung the stars.

You hand her your phone.

She scrolls through slowly, then looks up at you.

“You okay with this?” she asks. “The noise, the questions, all of it?”

You wrap your arms around her waist.

“If it means I get to love you in the open? I’m good with it.”

She kisses you again, slow and sweet.

“I like me better when I’m with you,” she whispers against your lips.

You smile, because yeah—so do you.

Dallas is warmer than you expected.

The city hums with spring heat and WNBA excitement, the air heavy with the buzz of a new season. Posters of Paige and her teammates decorate downtown walls. There’s a billboard with her face on it just a few blocks from your hotel—smiling, fierce, confident.

You grin every time you pass it.

“She’s so cool,” you whisper like a fangirl to yourself, snapping a photo from the Uber.

She texts you before morning shoot around.

Paige: Today’s the day Kinda nervous Not for the game tho For you seeing me in my element

You: You mean sweaty, locked in, intimidating Bueckers? Yeah I’m shaking.

Paige: Shut up Are you coming to the tunnel?

You: Wouldn’t miss it.

You wait just outside the players’ entrance, baseball cap low, hoodie zipped, trying to blend in even though it’s impossible. The moment someone recognizes you, phones start coming out. You smile politely, taking a few photos, but your eyes keep drifting toward the hallway where you know she’ll walk out.

And then—

There she is.

Hair slicked-back in a bun, jersey crisp, headphones around her neck, and that unmistakable focused look in her eyes.

Until she sees you.

Then she melts.

“Hey, superstar,” she says, walking straight into your arms.

“You look insane,” you whisper, drinking her in. “Like… this is what the billboards don’t show.”

“You nervous?” she teases, hands settling on your hips.

“I might faint.”

She grins. “You better not. I need you conscious so I can wink at you when I hit my first shot.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

She leans in and kisses you—soft, fast, but right there in front of everyone. Phones flash. Reporters murmur. Her teammates whistle.

You don’t care. Neither does she.

She’s yours. And she’s about to light up the court.

You’re in the front row when it happens.

She drains her first three with a signature step-back, and sure enough, turns and winks right at you as she runs back on defense.

You practically melt in your seat.

By halftime, she’s leading the team in points. The Wings are ahead. The crowd’s electric.

You’re hoarse from screaming. Every time she looks over, she finds you. Smiling. Cheering. Clapping with pride in your chest like it might burst.

And she shines brighter every time she sees you.

After the game, you’re waiting in the tunnel again.

She walks out flushed, sweaty, and glowing. Her jersey is untucked, towel draped around her neck, and the second she sees you, her whole face softens.

“You killed it,” you say as she pulls you into a hug.

“I heard you yelling,” she says into your ear.

“I blacked out during the third quarter. I think I proposed.”

She laughs, stepping back, eyes shining. “I might’ve accepted.”

Back at her place that night, it’s quieter.

She showers while you lay in bed, wearing her warmup hoodie, scrolling through social media posts of her game.

Fans are losing their minds.

@/WNBASTanTwitter: Paige Bueckers showing out on her debut, and her girl was court side all smiles?? We are living in a rom-com.

@/BueckersFanClub: She winked at Y/N after that three 😭 THEY'RE SO IN LOVE

@/Y/Nupdates: We saw her perform “I Like Me Better” Now we saw HER be the biggest Paige stan They are ENDGAME.

When Paige comes out of the bathroom, damp hair curling around her cheeks, oversized tee hanging off her frame, you set your phone down.

“Come here,” you whisper, opening your arms.

She crawls in beside you, settling with a content sigh, head on your chest.

“I’ve never felt like this,” she murmurs. “Balanced. Seen.”

You press a kiss to her forehead.

“Me neither.”

“You think we can do this?” she asks. “Your tour. My season. The distance?”

You nod, sure.

“Yeah. Because we’re not doing it alone.”

She lifts her head to look at you, eyes searching.

And then she kisses you like she’s promising something. Something big. Something real.

You fall asleep wrapped around each other, limbs tangled, dreams quiet and golden.

And even though your next show is in Berlin, and her next game is in Phoenix, neither of you feels far anymore.

Not really.

Because love doesn’t care about distance.

And you’ve already written the song.

Berlin is electric.

The crowd is wild, the lights intense, the soundcheck rolls late into the night with the hum of neon signs outside your hotel window. You’ve played three shows in four days. Your voice is hoarse. Your body aches. You’ve been pouring every drop of yourself into the music, but no matter how loud the crowd gets—how bright the lights shine—there’s a dull ache that sits just behind your ribs.

You miss her.

You miss her voice. Her dumb jokes. The way she looks at you after a show like you’re magic and made of stars. FaceTime helps, sure. Texts too. But it’s not the same.

Tonight, you're sitting on the floor of your dressing room after the encore, sweating and spent, staring at the same message thread you’ve read a hundred times.

You: I miss you so much it hurts.

She hasn’t replied yet.

She had a team dinner tonight. You don’t expect a quick response. But your throat tightens anyway. Not out of doubt, not out of fear—just longing.

Real, raw, inconvenient longing.

There’s a knock at the door. You don’t look up.

“Can we just—” you start, assuming it’s your manager or a fan service person, “—give me ten?”

Silence.

Then—

“I brought something.”

The voice is soft. Familiar. Your heart slams into your ribs.

You look up.

And she’s there.

Paige.

In a hoodie and jeans, cap low over her head, grinning like the most beautiful problem you’ve ever had.

You scramble to your feet.

“What—what the hell are you doing here?”

She drops her bag and walks into your arms like she’s been holding the motion for weeks.

“Coach gave me a day off,” she whispers. “I booked the flight before I could change my mind.”

You bury your face in her neck, shaking from the adrenaline and disbelief.

“I didn’t think I could miss someone like this,” you breathe.

“Same,” she murmurs. “You sounded a little off the past few nights. Thought I’d come fix that.”

The next day is quiet and golden.

No venue. No schedule. Just you and Paige exploring Berlin with coffee in one hand and each other’s fingers intertwined in the other.

You ride bikes down cobbled side streets. She tries to pronounce German street names and butchers all of them, laughing until she nearly crashes into a pretzel cart.

You eat currywurst from a stand near the Brandenburg Gate, take a ridiculous amount of selfies in front of graffiti walls, and lay in the grass in Tiergarten Park, shoes kicked off, her head in your lap.

“You look good in the sun,” she says softly, squinting up at you.

You brush your fingers through her hair. “You look good in Europe.”

She grins. “I look good when I’m with you.”

That night, she insists on coming to the venue again.

Just to be in the wings. To hear you sing live. To feel the thing you’ve been building city after city.

You don’t tell anyone she’s there.

But when you sing “I Like Me Better”, you glance stage left—and she’s there. Hoodie up, leaning against the wall, smiling like you’re still the most magic thing in the world.

You sing the bridge like a secret just for her.

“Stay awhile, stay awhile Stay here with me…”

You're wrapped up in a blanket, legs tangled, room dim except for the glow of the street lights outside. Paige’s arm is draped over your waist, thumb tracing slow, thoughtful circles on your hip.

“I hate that you’re leaving tomorrow,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” she murmurs. “But we’ll have time soon. The break’s coming. Two weeks with no games. You’ll be off tour by then, right?”

You nod. “I don’t care where we go. As long as it’s you and me.”

“I’ve been thinking…” she starts slowly. “Beach. No cameras. No fans. Just us and sand and sunscreen and me putting your phone on airplane mode.”

You smile sleepily. “That sounds illegal. And perfect.”

She kisses your temple. “It’s a date.”

@/PaigeBueckers: 📍 Berlin ❤️‍🔥💙🎤 [Photo: A blurry one of you singing on stage, lit up like a supernova.]

@/Y/Nofficial: Replying to @/PaigeBueckers Who let you in?? 👀

@/WNBAStanTwitter: Paige Bueckers being the supportive girlfriend every artist deserves 🙌 This era is ELITE.

@/concertwithYN: If they don’t get married by 2026 I’m staging a protest

You didn’t ask where you were going.

All Paige said was: “Pack light. Swimsuits. Sunscreen. And don’t bring your laptop.”

Now, thirty minutes after your private plane touched down on a remote Caribbean island—no paparazzi, no tour buses, no practice schedules—you’re barefoot on warm white sand, mouth open as Paige grins beside you like she’s just pulled off the heist of the year.

“This is…” You exhale, spinning slowly to take it all in. “You planned this?”

Paige shrugs, smug. “I’ve had this bookmarked for months. Told myself if we made it through your Europe tour and my preseason, we deserved something stupidly romantic.”

You shake your head, laughing as you walk backward into the ocean breeze, hands up. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, here you are. In love with me.”

“Bold assumption, Bueckers.”

She steps forward, hands sliding around your waist, eyes playful. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

You pause.

Heart loud.

She tilts her head. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

The days blur in the best way.

Salt on your lips. Sun on your skin. Paige in a bikini, hair slicked back from the sea, eyes soft like you’re something sacred. You try to read a book in a hammock, but she keeps poking your side until you chase her into the water, laughing like kids.

There’s a private pool. A villa with doors that open right into the ocean. You take turns making breakfast—her pancakes, your espresso—and slow-dance barefoot in the kitchen to whatever playlist Paige throws on.

It’s just you two.

No headlines. No pressure. Just the sound of your voices, and the ocean outside your window.

One night, you’re on the beach—blanket in the sand, wine bottle between you, sky full of stars.

Paige is lying on her side, propped up on an elbow, watching you talk about your next album ideas.

You pause mid-thought. “What?”

She blinks, like she didn’t realize she’d been staring. “You’re just…” She exhales. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding dumb.”

“Say it.”

“I think I’m in love with you.”

The moment freezes.

Her voice is soft. Unshaken. Like she’s known for a while.

Your breath catches. “Yeah?”

She nods slowly. “Yeah.”

You reach out, fingers brushing hers. “Good. ‘Cause I’ve been in love with you since Milan.”

Paige grins—relieved, glowing, golden. She leans in to kiss you, slow and certain, her hand finding the side of your face like you’re her favorite melody.

Later, when you’re curled up in bed, tangled in white sheets, limbs loose from ocean air and confession, she whispers, “You’re my person. You know that, right?”

You smile against her neck.

“Yeah. I do.”

@/randomtourist: Is this… @/Y/Nofficial and Paige Bueckers?? In Anguilla??? They just held hands walking into a beach cafe and ordered smoothies like a damn rom-com I’m shaking

@/Y/Nfanacc: Y’all see this paparazzi-free private vacay?? She’s off tour. Paige is on break. The timing.

@/WNBAStanupdates: If Paige Bueckers shows up to the next Wings game with a tan and a ring, don’t say we didn’t warn you.

Dallas feels different this time.

It’s not just the humidity or the promise of WNBA season in full swing—it’s the key in your pocket. It’s your suitcase by the door. It’s the way Paige slides your duffel next to hers in the closet without saying a word, like she’s been waiting for this moment all along.

“So,” she says casually, walking backwards into the living room. “What’s mine is yours. Except my last few Oreos. Touch those and we’ll fight.”

You smirk, crossing your arms. “You’re giving me a key, but not cookies?”

“There are limits to love, babe.”

It starts slow.

A drawer becomes two. Your toothbrush appears next to hers in the bathroom, and then one day it’s her hoodie on your back while you stir pasta, and she’s setting your favorite mug down beside you before you even ask for coffee.

It’s easy. Too easy.

You don’t fight over decor—you both somehow have the same taste in soft throws, candle scents, and weird-shaped vases. You turn assembling furniture into a full-day event, music blasting, her standing on the instruction manual, you threatening to call Ikea customer service over the six leftover screws.

You crash on the couch that night, covered in sweat and sawdust.

She hands you a popsicle and kisses your cheek. “I’d build a thousand stupid shelves if it means falling asleep next to you every night.”

You mumble around the stick, “You’re such a sap.”

She grins. “You love it.”

You do.

God, you do.

The place is quiet without her.

Not in a sad way. Just still.

You’re curled up on Paige’s couch, her grey hoodie swallowing your body, a steaming mug of tea on the coffee table, and your old, worn leather songwriting journal resting open across your lap. The windows are cracked just enough to let in a breeze and the hum of the Dallas cityscape below. Somewhere, faintly, sirens. A dog barking. Life, just happening.

She’s at practice. You texted her a sleepy “miss you already” when she left this morning, and she responded with a selfie from the gym and a kissy-face emoji that made your stomach twist in the best way.

You flip through the journal lazily, half-looking, until your eyes land on a page you haven’t touched in over a year.

There are only a few lines, scribbled quickly one night after a concert in New York—shortly after you’d met Paige.

You touch the page softly, smile tugging at your lips.

You remember that version of yourself. The one who bumped into her at a club with tequila in your veins and stars in your eyes. The one who had no idea what was starting that night.

Your fingers trace over the half-written lyrics.

“Sweet baby, our sex has meaning Know this time you’ll stay ‘til the morning…”

You chuckle to yourself, shaking your head. You were so gone for her, even then.

You grab a pen from the side table, stretch your legs out, and start to write.

It’s easy, really. Once you start thinking of her—of her hands on your back after shows, her sleepy kisses on your forehead in the morning, her goofy dancing in the kitchen when you burn toast—everything just pours out.

You don’t write this one like a sad ballad.

You write it like a promise.

“Baby, let me be your woman So I can love you And if you let me be your woman Then I’ll take care of you…”

You underline the last part twice.

Because that’s all you’ve ever wanted—to take care of her. To be a constant in the whirlwind. To be the reason she exhales after holding the world on her shoulders.

You finish the final chorus just as the front door creaks open.

“Babe?” Paige calls, breathless from the stairs.

“In here,” you say, not bothering to hide the smile in your voice.

She rounds the corner, hair tied up, cheeks flushed from the Texas heat, gym bag slung over her shoulder.

She sees your journal and raises a brow. “New song?”

You nod slowly. “Not new… just unfinished. Until now.”

Her eyes sparkle as she leans down and presses a kiss to your temple. “Can I hear it?”

You hesitate.

“It’s about you,” you say quietly.

She just grins. “Then absolutely yes.”

You grab your guitar from the wall hook, sit back on the couch, and start to play—voice low, rich with emotion as you sing her song.

“Nothing ever comes easy At least that’s what they say I know I’m not perfect But I’ll love you every day…”

You glance up once.

Her eyes are glassy.

You keep going.

“I swear that I will mean it I’ll say it every day…”

When the final note fades, Paige doesn’t say anything right away.

She just leans forward and wraps her arms around your shoulders, burying her face in your neck.

“You wrote that?” she whispers, voice thick.

You nod, hugging her back.

“I’d write a hundred more,” you murmur, “just to tell you the same thing.”

She pulls back, a little tear trailing down her cheek.

“I already knew,” she says, smiling, “but hearing it like that? Damn.”

You laugh softly, wiping her face gently. “You always get like this when I sing.”

“And you always pretend not to love it.”

She kisses you slow and deep, and when she finally pulls back, she’s grinning again.

“When are you releasing it?”

You shrug. “Maybe soon. Maybe never.”

She frowns. “Why not?”

“Because…” you smile, brushing her hair back, “some songs are just for you.”

The lights dim, a single spotlight pools around the center of the stage. You step into it, holding your acoustic guitar close, and perch on the lone stool set out just for this. No flashy visuals. No backup dancers. Just wood, strings, and words that were once for her ears only.

You strum the opening chord, the crowd hushed, breath held.

“Sweet baby, our love has meaning… You stay through all my worst seasons…”

Your voice is gentle, almost like you’re whispering it across a pillow.

You don’t look at the cameras. You don’t even look at the crowd.

You look at her.

Every time your eyes lift, they find Paige. And every time they do, something in your chest softens.

“If you let me be your woman Then I’ll take care of you For the rest of my life, for the rest of yours…”

As the bridge swells, you can see Paige subtly wipe at her eyes. She tries to hide it, like she’s just blinking too long, like she’s got something in her lashes. But you know her. You know every tell.

And the truth is—she’s crying.

Not big, sobbing tears. But the quiet kind. The kind that come when something hits bone-deep. When you realize someone loves you that much.

You play the final note, let it linger.

And then—silence.

And then—roaring applause.

You stand, give a little smile, a nod of thanks. The spotlight fades as you walk offstage.

Backstage is chaos again—handlers talking over each other, compliments thrown your way, makeup artists adjusting things you don’t even notice. But your eyes are on the hallway.

And when Paige finally gets past security, she doesn’t say a word.

She just pulls you into her arms and holds you like it’s the only thing keeping her steady.

You bury your face into her shoulder, breathe her in.

“Did it sound okay?” you murmur into her neck.

She leans back just enough to look into your eyes, her own rimmed red and glossy.

“It sounded like everything I’ve never been able to say out loud,” she whispers. “You gave my heart a song.”

You smile, forehead to hers. “It was yours long before anyone else heard it.”

She kisses you quickly—just once, tucked into the corner of the hallway out of view.

@/LateNightTonight: Y/N stunned with a raw, intimate performance of their new single “Let Me” tonight. Not a dry eye in the room.

@/fangirlballer: I JUST KNOW Paige was in the crowd. I JUST KNOW. That was a love letter in song form and she wrote it with her whole chest.

@/WNBAtea: Paige was spotted leaving the studio hand-in-hand with Y/N and looked like she’d just sobbed through the second coming of Mozart. What do you mean this isn’t a rom-com.

That night, you and Paige don’t go home right away.

You find a quiet little diner that’s still open past midnight. Sit across from each other in a booth with fries between you and her fingers laced with yours across the table.

She keeps looking at you like you’re made of stars.

And for the first time in your career, you realize:

You don’t want to sing about pain anymore.

You want to write about her.

The lights of the arena are blinding, the energy nuclear, and the sound? Earth-shaking.

Game 5 of the WNBA Finals. Series tied 2–2. Winner takes it all.

You’re sitting court side at the American Airlines Center in Dallas, legs crossed, hair tied back, and Paige’s #5 BUECKERS jersey draped over your body like a second skin. Customized, of course. Small embroidered initials on the back near the collar: PB + YN. A subtle little secret between you and her.

The game hasn’t started yet, but the tension is thick enough to chew.

You can see her pacing.

She’s got her headphones in, but her body language is loud. Too tight. Too stiff. She’s stretching like it’s routine but you know her—this is nerves.

You wait for the right moment before slipping past security and finding her near the tunnel before final warmups.

She sees you and her shoulders drop just slightly.

“Hey,” you say softly, sliding your hand into hers, grounding her with your touch. “You good?”

She breathes out, eyes flickering over your face. “I will be.”

You tug her in gently, press your forehead to hers in a way that says breathe, baby, just breathe.

“You’re ready,” you whisper. “You’ve been ready. This is your game.”

She nods slowly. “But what if—”

“No,” you say, a little firmer. “No ‘what ifs.’ You are Paige Bueckers. You are clutch. You are brilliant. And you’ve worked for this your entire life. There is no one I’d trust more with this moment.”

Paige exhales shakily, blinking fast like she’s trying to hold back the flood. You smile, brushing your fingers over her cheek.

“And no matter what happens,” you whisper, “you already won me.”

That earns you the smallest grin—crooked, warm, hers.

“Okay,” she says. “Okay. I got this.”

“Damn right, you do.”

You watch her walk back out with a different kind of fire in her step.

And you go back to your seat, clutching your knees, heart already pounding.

The game is tight from the beginning.

Tensions boil. The crowd is deafening.

Paige? Paige is dialed in.

First quarter—three assists, a steal, eight points including a no-look jumper that has the whole bench on their feet.

Second quarter—she gets knocked hard on a drive, pops right back up, grinning, drains both free throws without flinching.

You’re screaming with the rest of the arena. Hands on your head. Heart in your throat.

But it’s the fourth quarter where she becomes something else entirely.

Two minutes left. Tie game.

She sinks a dagger three from deep. Next possession, she steals a pass mid-air and drives it coast-to-coast, finishes with a smooth reverse layup. Crowd: unglued.

Paige: ice cold.

You? Crying. Yelling. Almost fainting.

Final possession. Opponents down two. Clock ticking.

They go for a desperation three.

Paige jumps—clean block.

Ball flies loose.

Buzzer.

Game.

Dallas Wings are WNBA Champions.

The court erupts.

Players tackle each other. Confetti rains down like stars.

And Paige?

She turns in a slow circle—searching.

Then her eyes land on you.

And without hesitation, she sprints across the court, cuts past cameras and chaos, and pulls you into her arms.

She spins you in a circle, laughing and crying at the same time.

“I told you,” you gasp into her ear. “You’re that girl.”

She pulls back, eyes glistening. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You did this,” you whisper. “You earned every second.”

Suddenly, the announcer’s voice booms through the stadium.

“And your Finals MVP… PAIGE BUECKERS!”

She freezes, looks at you like she can’t believe it.

You just nod, eyes wet. “Go get your trophy, MVP.”

“Paige, you just won the championship and MVP in your rookie season. How does it feel?”

She smiles wide, wiping sweat and tears from her face.

“It feels… surreal. I’ve dreamed about this forever. But honestly? The best part is knowing the person I love is here tonight wearing my jersey. This win is for Dallas, for the team, for everyone who believed in me.”

Cue crowd losing their minds. Cameras swing to you, stunned in your seat, face in your hands, smiling like your chest can’t hold it all in.

@/paigebueckers: CHAMPIONS. MVP. But the biggest win of all is you in my corner, always. 💙 @/Y/Nofficial, this one’s for you.

@/Y/Nofficial: You blocked a game-winning shot and then stole mine and 20,000 people’s hearts. My MVP. Forever. 🏆

@/fan: YOU MEAN TO TELL ME PAIGE DEDICATED HER FINALS MVP TO HER GIRLFRIEND???? ENDGAME CANNOT STOP CRYING GETTING MARRIED WHEN??

It’s nearly 2 a.m. when you unlock the door to Paige’s apartment—your apartment now, too. Or at least it will be once the boxes arrive.

Your shoes are off before you’re even in the living room. Paige follows you in, still in her Finals Champion shirt, hair damp from a post-game shower and skin still carrying the shimmer of victory.

The silence in the apartment is almost jarring after the chaos of the last twelve hours. The echoes of cheering fans still ring in your ears, but now it’s just the hum of the fridge, the soft creak of hardwood under your feet, and Paige’s breath, steady but tired, behind you.

She drops her duffel bag by the door and sighs like her whole body is unraveling.

You don’t say anything at first. You just turn, hold your arms out, and wait.

She walks straight into them.

No MVP speech. No cameras. Just her forehead against your collarbone and your hands threading gently into her hair.

“I didn’t realize how tired I was,” she mumbles into your chest.

“I know,” you whisper back. “You held it together all night.”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

You kiss the top of her head. “You don’t have to now.”

She melts into you.

You don’t sleep right away.

You sit on the kitchen counter while she eats leftover pasta cold from the fridge, and you sip sleepy tea while your voice goes soft and low.

You ask her what it felt like. The game. The title. The moment her name was called.

She shrugs, eyes still puffy, smile barely-there. “It felt… like everything. And nothing. Like a dream I’ve had since I was a kid. But when I looked up and saw you in my jersey? That’s when it hit me.”

You blink slowly. “What hit you?”

She leans in and kisses your knee. “That I’ve already won.”

You press your lips together to keep from crying again.

“You’re such a sap.”

“You love it.”

“Unfortunately.”

She grins, sets her container down, and walks over to where you’re sitting. Her hands go to your hips, her forehead finds yours again.

“So what now?” she whispers.

“Now…” you hum, “we rest.”

“Together?”

“Always.”

She’s sprawled across your lap, her championship ring sitting on the coffee table beside your Grammy.

You trace patterns on her arm with your fingertips.

“Do you ever think,” she asks quietly, “about what it would’ve been like if we never bumped into each other in that club?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I’d still be singing about heartbreak and tequila. And you’d still be pretending you’re not the softest person alive.”

She grins and leans up to kiss your jaw.

“You saved me,” she says. “In a hundred ways I didn’t know I needed saving.”

“You found me,” you counter. “When I didn’t know I was lost.”

[agustdtown1]

CLOSER TO YOU [TEASER]

PAIRING: nerdy!roommate!jungkook x OF!reader.

SUMMARY: After getting various comments about your poor filming skills for your OF page, you finally decided to give in and reach out to the one person that could help you with your problem. However, what started as your roommate just helping you to film your video turned into you begging him to fuck you.

How long would it take for Jungkook to finally give in? After all, all he ever wanted was to be closer to you.

WC (teaser): 615, final work is almost 10k

WARNINGS (teaser): swearing, sexual themes, allusion to masturbation, it’s not explicitly stated but reader is fully naked, reader being a little menace and jk being completely whipped for her. The rest of the warnings will be added to the final fic.

A/N: not me coming back here after almost a year of not writing anything. I don’t have any further explanation aside from the fact that my life changed a lot and I got way busier than I thought I would, I also kinda lost inspiration and motivation to write so… there’s that, hopefully with this new fic I’ll be back to writing more often and being active. n e way, enjoy your reading and lmk if u wanna be tagged for the final fic! <3

masterlist

“Kook…” You breathed out, “I need you.”

It was so subtle, so fleeting the smugness that covered his face for a brief instant that you barely noticed. His eyes widened and his lips moved like that of a fish trying to survive out of the water, he didn’t know what to do, much less what to say. 

“Me?” He whispered, completely clueless of the effect he was having on you in that moment. You nodded, fingers stilling in between your legs. “Wh-What do you mean?”

You sat up, stopping the filming once again. “Exactly what I said, I need you… I-I need your help with something else. You can say no, but… I would be forever grateful to you if you said yes.”

Jungkook was putting to use his 128 IQ score to try and understand what you were hinting at, but none the wiser, he needed the words spelled out to him to get your idea. And so, as softly as possible, you explained what your need was actually about. You noticed the way his body reacted to you and the show you were putting on for your viewers but more specifically for him; it was painfully obvious how much he desired you, and in all honesty, you weren’t any better. 

Ever since you two started living together, you swore that you wouldn’t act on the small and silly crush you developed for him after meeting for the first time. It was just a silly attraction that wasn’t worth the hassle of getting involved with your roommate; his built body and big biceps drove you crazy, and you couldn’t turn a blind eye to the intricate tattoos adorning his arm, which was such a stark contrast to the type of man he made himself out to be; the lip ring shining from his mouth was so painfully enticing, and more often than not, you found yourself wondering what it would feel like against your lips while kissing the life out of him. And God bless the person that gets you started on how much you loved those black rimmed glasses that adorned his eyes almost 24/7, giving him a geeky look that would never fail to make you weak in the knees. But all of those features, as well as the lewd scenarios conquering your mind minutes before going to sleep, had made it difficult for you to stay in your lane all this time. Tonight, however, might be your one and only chance to turn your dirty dreams into reality, only and only if Jungkook agreed to your idea.

“I don’t want this to ruin our friendship.” He murmured, looking down at the floor and avoiding your hopeful eyes glaring at him. You reached out for him, your soft hands coming in contact with his covered thighs while you kneeled in front of him. “Y/n… don’t do this to me.” His whole body stiffened, fighting the urge to jump your bones and turn you into a crying mess just like he always imagined.

“You don’t want me like that, Kookie?” You so innocently asked, lashes fluttering against your cheekbones. “Is that the real problem, hm?” Your hands were sliding up and down his thighs, teasing him.

“God, no.” He answered breathlessly, “You have no fucking idea how bad I want you…”  

“Then why don’t you show me? What’s stopping you, hm?” Your cheek resting on his jean-covered thigh elicited a soft gasp from your roommate. “It's just a small favor.” 

“I… fuck, you’re driving me crazy right now.” He ran a hand through his hair, pulling at the ends while letting out a frustrated groan. Jungkook took off his glasses while rubbing his eyes before looking at you again. “You have to promise… you really have to promise that it will be a one-time thing. No more favors after this, at least not of this caliber.” 

You nodded eagerly, looking at him with a spark in your eyes. “I promise, just this time.” 

“Okay,” Jungkook nodded, “I’ll help you with anything you need.”

[mrsfudd]

Behind your back- part 2

warnings: fighting, break up 😟

“PAIGE STOP IM NAKED” KK said trying to keep your sister away

“EW DUDE, JUST HURRY UP PRACTICE IS IN 5” Paige yelled.

You held your breath until you heard the door shut. A wave of guilt ran through your whole body. You really loved KK but somehow you felt like you were betraying Paige. Ever since you were little there was nothing you couldn’t tell her. The more time you spent with KK the more you wondered when that changed.

Your mindlessly packing your bag, overthinking a little too much til KK snaps you out of it.

“Babygirl, you gotta go” KK said trying to rush you in the nicest way possible.

She had your whole existence studied and easily picked up that something was wrong but this wasn’t the time to sit and talk about your feelings.

4:02 pm

Barely surviving your morning classes and trying to avoid Paige all day. You finally got back to your dorm from your last class of the day. You sat on the couch as your roommate started talking to you. You let her ramble and gave her reassuring words every few minutes. You pulled your knees to your chest and started to pick at your nails while you zoning out. Your brain scrambled and you were trapped in your own thoughts until you get a text notification. It was KK.

KK baby 😘: You good mamas? How was your day

You: yes bae, good wbu

KK baby 😘: im good baby, miss u tho can i come thru ?

You: mhm, js knock my roommates here but shes going in her bedroom

If you were being completely honest, you didn’t want KK to come over. Obviously she didn’t do anything, you were just nervous you were going to ruin everything over one mishap. You wanted KKs love and your sister’s trust. You were seriously conflicted and had created an ultimatum in your head. Terrified of losing either, you kept quiet unsure if that was the right idea or not.

6:35 pm

KKs here and it’s weirdly silent.. until its not

“So I was thinking and I feel like we should tell Paige about us” KK blurts out.

Your eyes shoot open, you here the door open and close. Your roommate was gone and so you decided to speak freely.

“KK what do you mean? You already know how P would react I cant do that to her” You say.

“To her? What about me Y/N? What about how I feel? Its killing me having to be all up in Paiges face and then come here just to stab her in the back. We need to tell her. KK says.

“KK no, Im not letting you blow up everything just because you feel bad. You wanted me and you knew what that came with yet you still chose to be with me. You made your bed now lay in it.” You say watching KKs face slowly scrunch.

“Why are you so scared Y/N? Shes your sister, shes going to support you regardless. Im the one who should be scared. Please baby, I wanna love you out loud.” KK says while grabbing for your hand.

“Get off me KK, you wouldn’t have to live with the guilt forever. I would, I have to see her in school and out of school. I love you KK, I really do but im just not ready. If you cant understand that, then I guess this just wont work out.” You say holding back tears.

“Baby, please wait lets just talk. Paige wont take it as hard as you think she will”. KK pleads.

Theres no more convincing you. You were too conflicted and too scared. KK was not going to blow up your life. You needed to clear your head so you grab your keys.

As you open your bedroom door, Paige is standing right there. It wasn’t your roommate who opened the door.

“Are you fucking serious Y/N” Paige said emotionless.

“Paige I-” You say trying to hold back tears.

“No fucking save it. My teammate? I mean wow, and you know whats crazy I wouldn’t even be mad if you came to me about it like a decent fucking person Y/N. But no you couldn’t, KK just begged to come clean and you wanted her to stab my back even more? What kind of sister are you? Matter fact I don’t even know you” Paige said looking disgusted.

Her words felt like a knife in your chest, what did you do? You had to get out. You grabbed your phone and slides and walked out slamming the door behind you.

You drive all around town sobbing. Not knowing what to do or how to fix this. You just lost the love of your life and the trust your sister. All because you were scared of confrontation. You could of had it all if you just spoke up.

Since you joined Paiges friend group it wasn’t like you were apart of the basketball team. If Paige didn’t want her little sister around that was final. No one would argue well KK would, but not anymore.

You drove around for another hour before you return to your dorm. As expected KK and Paige were gone. Your roommate looked at you with wide eyes, you already knew what she was going to say.

“Bitch, what the fuck was that?” She said munching on some snack.

“Chloe, please. Im really not in the mood” You say looking defeated.

“Nah nah come here, jokes aside come talk to me”. She says.

You sit down next to her and start explaining everything that was going on. Fighting back tears with every sentence and realizing how bad you really messed up.

“Okay well I heard them talking after you left and Paige had asked KK still loved you and she said yea. If i was you I would do anything to be back in their good graces, If its still possible Y/N. I cant believe you kept all this from me.”

you were about to respond to her until you had gotten a notification

“Y/N has been removed from the Basketball girls + the baby Group chat”

You heart dropped, and then even more when you saw that it was KK who removed you.

you knew it was going to take something drastic to get back on her good side… and you think you had an idea.

Sorry ik its short butttt part 3???? if i make part 3 i think itll be the final part. lmkkk love ya 😘

@private-but-not-a-secret @teddygrahamslam @syraxsbigfanfr

[m-neuvillette]

Dante Scenario

Dante x fem reader

Author notes: day 9473292736291929 thinking constantly about this man. This idea has been stuck in my brain for so long so I had to write about it

* You are Dante’s assistant. You basically do everything for him. You do finances, cook, patch up his friends after a mission, you help run Devil May Cry, and so much more

* You and Dante have a really close relationship that has built up over the years

* Everyone knows you two like each other and always begs you two to confess to each other. But the other party always says “they don’t see me like that” or “I don’t wanna ruin our friendship”

* That is until one day…

* Imagine Lady comes to Devil May Cry to talk to Dante about a job

* There’s this club that has been having a lot of females disappear and it’s always the same story. “A single girl sitting at the bar and a guy comes up and talks to them, they leave and never get seen again.”

* Lady deduced it’s a sex appeal demon, that is essentially a walking aphrodisiac. It shows the desires of the woman to her then puts her under a spell to control her. After the spell cast the woman follows whatever the demon wants (and that’s just the demon literally sucking the life out of her)

* Lady says she wants Dante’s help with this mission

* Dante brings up how he’s a guy and he can’t do too much to get close to the demon. But if he can know what the demon looks like he can try and hunt from the shadows

* Lady brings up how the demon changes appearances every night so nobody knows who it actually is

* Dante suggests she lead the demon out but lady quickly shuts down that idea because the demon would definitely recognize her

* Dante and Lady go through multiple plans and all end up seeming like dead ends

* You sit there quietly and just listen to them go back and forth. You don’t know much about demon hunting besides stuff you’ve picked up on throughout the years

* Then it clicks in your head after they have another failed idea

* “What if I am the bait for the demon?”

* Lady looks at you and talks about how that is a great idea and starts making a plan

* But while that happens Dante stands up lets out a firm “No.”

* Lady rolls her eyes and looks at him, “It’s the only shot we got. We need to get this mission done and this is our best idea.”

* Dante looks pissed and you get it

* “I am NOT putting her in danger just so I can kill this fucking demon. We still have time so let me think of a new plan.”

* You stand up and walk over to Dante and look him dead in the eyes, “Dante we don’t have any more time. The more we wait there’ll be more innocent women that will die. I don’t want to put anyone through that. If I can help and prevent it I’ll do it.”

* Dante quickly refutes “But what about you? What if you get hurt? I could never live with myself if something happened to you because I put you in danger.”

* You reach for his hands and hold them tightly, “Well Mr Pro demon hunter will just have to protect me right? I feel the safest when I know you’re around anyways.”

* Dante tightens the grip on your hands, “I’ll protect you with my life, I promise you.”

* You, Lady, and Dante all make a quick plan because you have to get ready since you are going to the club tonight

* The plan is to have Lady as surveillance and watching you at all times (on the clubs cameras) you’re also going to be hooked up to a mic that both her and Dante can listen to

* Dante is going to be in the club laying low trying to find the demon before he can get to you

* You all confirm the plan then you go get ready

* You get dressed in a tight and short red dress (you saved it for whenever Dante would ask you on a made up date you made in your dreams)

* You put on some heels, makeup and perfume and you walk into the main area where Dante and Lady are setting up the mics

* Once you walk in Lady cheers you on and compliments you

* You thank her and turn your attention to Dante who can’t take his eyes off of you

* You’re so beautiful and captivating in his eyes, but does he admit that? No…

* He just shakes his head and goes back to adjusting his mic

* Lady frowns and looks back at you. She sees you’re upset from the lack of compliments by Dante

* Lady waves you over to put on your mic and make sure it’s hidden so the demon won’t be able to tell

* After it’s all set up Dante has you test it to make sure it’s working, once the test is successful you all head out

* You’re sitting in the back of the van Lady has with Dante

* As you all get close to the bar you feel your nerves skyrocket

* It is now that you realized what you offered to do and that it’s actually going to happen

* You’re going to be face to face with a demon and you’re not even going to know

* What happens if it succeeds? Will you die? Will it be painful?

* You start to bounce your leg up and down due to your anxiousness

* You then feel a big warm hand settle on your knee stopping you

* You look over at Dante who is already looking at you

* “I told you, I promise I’ll protect you. I won’t let anything happen, you’ll be safe.”

* You nod and thank him

* You two just look at each other for what feels like a century

* Dante opens his mouth but is cut off by Lady announcing you three have arrived

* Lady gets out of the front seat and comes to the back where she’s tapped into all the cameras in the club

* Once that’s good she spins in her seat to face you, “Alright, you’re turn. Dante will enter in about 10 minutes. Be safe.”

* “Okay I’m off then.” You go to leave out of the van but Dante grabs your wrist stopping you

* You look back at him, “If you ever feel uncomfortable and want to stop say pizza and I’ll come to you.”

* “Got it. I’ll say pizza if I’m uncomfortable.”

* You can see Dante’s expression soften a bit and see some stress melt off of him but he still looks super tense

* You leave the van and head into the club

* You walk straight to the bar and order a drink

* You slowly sip on your drink looking around waiting for anyone to approach you

* After about 45 minutes no one has come up to you and it confuses you. Are you doing something wrong?

* As if Dante can hear your thoughts, “You’re not doing anything wrong sweetheart. We got here a bit early to make sure we would be all set up.”

* You nod obviously knowing he can see you responding non verbally to him

* Another 10 minutes goes by and Lady speaks up into the mic, “Someone a little off looking just came in. He’s got on a white polo and blue dress pants. He’s has brown hair that is gelled up.”

* Dante then speaks up, “Got eyes on him.”

* Lady then calls your name, “He’s coming your way.”

* You take the last sip on your drink, by the time you’re putting it down someone appears by you

* “Well it looks like I got lucky today. The pretty girl I wanted to chat with has a drink that is all gone. Do you mind if I buy you another one?”

* You look at the man and see the exact one Lady described

* Steeling yourself you bat your eyelashes and flirt back, “Well I can never turn down a drink from someone so handsome. Do you mind joining me? There’s an open seat right there.”

* The man sits down and flags the bartender down and orders two drinks

* You stare at him trying to look if anything is off. You’ve barely seen demons so you can’t tell

* The bartender comes back with the drinks and the man faces you

* He tips his drink up to do a cheers, you tap his glass and you both take a sip of your drinks

* Small talk ensues. You’ve two talk about your jobs (well your made up one), what foods you like, what’s your favorite animal and so on

* The man finishes his drink and stares deeply at you, it kinda makes you uncomfortable

* It doesn’t feel like the one Dante gives you. His look makes your heart race but the look you’re getting now makes you feel sick

* The man pushes some hair behind your ear and then rests his hand on your cheek

* If you weren’t on a mission you’d slap his hand away

* “So tell me, what is a beautiful and single girl doing here all alone?”

* He rubs his thumb against your cheek and it’s like your mind starts to become foggy

* You don’t even really know what you’re saying while you talk

* “Oh it’s because I love someone and he doesn’t love me back.”

* The man looks shocked, “Oh really?”

* You bite your lip, “Yeah…”

* “Does he have a girlfriend already? Or maybe even a wife?”

* You shake your head, you’re not even in control anymore

* “He doesn’t.”

* The man smirks, “Then why doesn’t want you?”

* You think about it and don’t know. Why doesn’t Dante want you?

* “I don’t know…”

* The man scoots closer, “Come on sweetheart, I know you can do better than that.”

* Your stomach twists when he called you sweetheart, it doesn’t give you the same emotions it did earlier when Dante called you that

* You can hear talking in your ear but your brain can’t register it

* Little did you know it was Dante freaking out and trying to call our to you

* Lady tries to stop him so he doesn’t fuck up the mission

* Dante growls “I’m not going to let her get hypnotized by the demon, and I sure as hell don’t want to listen to her talk about the man she loves.”

* Dante then hears you speak up again

* “Well he’s my boss. He is the most beautiful person in this world. He has such a selfless heart and cares about everyone around him. He works so hard and never stops until he knows peace is coming. He is also so funny and silly. He never fails to make me laugh and smile. He’s also a great dancer. Whether he’s dancing by himself or drags me to dance with him. I love him so much but I don’t think he sees me in that way at all.”

* Your voice cracks but you continue, “I’m not strong at all. His job is very taxing and I can’t even keep up with it. I feel so useless any time he is so tired and stressed because I can’t do anything to help. He’s also surrounded by so many beautiful and strong women that I get outshined in every single way. He never compliments my looks and I just don’t think I’m his type.”

* The man brings your focus back to him, “Do you want me to help you?” He pulls his hand away and it’s like you’re in a deeper trance

* You nod and let out a meek “Yes.”

* The man smirks, “Okay what’s this man’s name?”

* “Dante…”

* Dante’s voice hitches. He feels like he can’t breathe. His heart is racing and he reaches for his chest to hold it

* He clenches his chest and heaves, How can he let you think he doesn’t love you? How did he mess up so fucking bad that you think you’re not special? You’re the most important person in the world to him. You’re so smart, kind, caring, funny, and absolutely gorgeous. He couldn’t compliment you earlier because he couldn’t find the words to describe how beautiful you are.

* Lady yells his name over the mic, “You idiot try and talk to her to see if we can get her out of the trance so she doesn’t get taken.”

* Dante frantically calls out your name

* He sees you and watches you start to follow the demon

* “Baby please, that’s not me. Don’t let him manipulate you. I promise you, I will take you out after this.”

* His voice cracks, “Just please don’t go with him.”

* By the time he finishes the demon has you in the back alley and Lady tells Dante how to get there and he goes running

* Dante tries to talk to you more though

* You feel like shit in all honesty

* This all feels off, the man in front of you looks like Dante but doesn’t feel like Dante

* His hands aren’t super big, they aren’t rough with callous’

* This doesn’t feel right

* You hear something in your ear again but it’s getting louder and louder

* “Baby- please listen to me. Please let me know you hear me. I can’t help you if you don’t let me in.”

* You let go of the demons hand and you mind stops fogging up a bit

* You breathe out “Dante?”

* You hear a huff and your name, “Is that you?”

* “Dante? Why is there two of you?

* “The one in front you isn’t real. Im coming to you now, get out of there.”

* The demon obviously caught on, “Come on sweetheart, don’t let go.”

* You try and rip your hand out of his but it’s futile you can loosen the demons strong grip

* “Oh so you figured it out? Well I’m not going to let you survive anyways. I’ll just devour you right now.”

* The demon grabs you by your shoulders and pins you hard against the wall

* The demon bares it fangs and goes for your neck and you hear something through the mic,“Don’t move.”

* A couple shots go off and you hear a howl from the demon

* The demon lets go of you and staggers back then a flash of red appears in front of you

* You breathe heavily “Dante.”

* Dante doesn’t look back but grabs his sword, you see his grip is tight

* “Don’t worry I’m here now. I’ll protect you, just like I promised.”

* The demon laughs, “So this is the man that you love but doesn’t care an inkling about you?”

* The demon looks at Dante, “You know I could see her memories and feel her emotions? I felt the hurt and pain you cause her. You hurt her more than anyone. YOU SAY YOU WANT TO PROTECT HER BUT YOU’VE ONLY HURT HER!”

* Dante freezes and you can see his attention wavering

* The demon tries to capitalize on this but you yell, “THAT’S NOT TRUE! Dante means the world to me and he makes me so happy. Being by him no matter what the context feels me with so much joy. I’m not going to let you make him think he’s not everything to me.”

* That seems to snap Dante back into the fight

* It catches the demon off guard and has a hard time fighting off the many attacks Dante his hitting him with

* Dante deals a fatal blow and the demon falls to the ground

* He stands over the demon who is badly injured and can barely move

* The demon growls, “You want to act like a hero but you’re not! I’m the hero here, I helped women like her be able to get what they wanted. I helped them! Not you. You only have hurt the girl that claims to love you. Stop acting like you’re some goddamn saint!”

* Dante stares at the demon, “No you killed innocent women for your selfish greed. You are no hero. A hero doesn’t march around saying all the good deeds they do, their actions are what speak volume. I’m not hero and no saint, and never claimed to be. But if she told me to do something I’d do it. If she wanted the world I’d give it to her.”

* He grips his sword and slices the demon’s head off

* “I’d do anything for her, after all I love her.”

* You breath hitches at his words

* Dante turns around and stares at you. He looks you up and down, “Are you okay? It didn’t hurt you right?”

* “I’m okay, I’m not hurt.” You two stare each other in silence

* Dante can’t take it anymore and walks over to you and pulls you into a tight embrace

* He holds your head to his chest and you can feel how fast his heart is racing

* “You really scared me sweetheart.”

* “I’m sorry Dante.”

* “Please don’t apologize for anything. I should be the one to apologize.”

* “Dante if what it said bothered you don’t listen to it-“

* Dante squeezes you tighter to him, “I’m not good with words and never have been. But I’ll try my hardest.”

* “I don’t know what I would do without you. You make every day so much better. You keep me sane in this fucked up world we live in.”

* Dante leans back and puts one of his hands on the back of your head to connect your foreheads

* You stare deeply into his beautiful blue eyes

* “I don’t think you understand how radiant you are in my eyes. You walk into a room and my eyes are instantly drawn to you. Damn it… earlier I wanted to compliment you non stop but didn’t know how or what to say. No words felt right to describe what I thought.”

* Dante softly calls your name, “You are so beautiful. Whether you be in this dress, in your pajamas, in my jacket, or wrapped up in a blanket. Even when you’re tired, exhausted, or stressed you’re still so breathtaking in my eyes. Your smile and laugh is so contagious and I crave to hear and see those two things every day. I don’t care if I have to look like an idiot to get my wish, I’ll do it.”

* “Dante-“

* “I’m not done.”

* “Having you in my arms makes me feel at home. You are my home. Coming back to you after every mission makes my heart race. I want to be with you always. I meant what I told that damn demon, if you wanted the world I’d give it to you. No matter what I had to do. Because I love you and nothing will change that.”

* You are lost for words, you have no idea what to say

* Dante was right he’s never been good with words but you can tell he put everything into this declaration

* “Dante, I don’t need the world. I just need you because I love you.”

* Dante lets out a deep sigh that turns into a laugh, “Thank god that confession was good. Don’t know what I would have done if it didn’t.”

* You laugh, “Even just if you just said you loved me I would have believed you.”

* “You deserve more than just a simple confession. But I want to do one more thing.”

* “What is that?”

* “I really and I mean really want to kiss you.”

* “And I really want you to kiss me.” You beam up at him.

* Dante leans down and pulls your head close to connect both of your lips

* The kiss is soft but is over quick

* You two pull apart and then Dante doesn’t hesitate to go back in

* He connect your lips in a heated clash

* He pulls your hips closer to him so you’re completely pressed up against him

* He slides his tongue into your mouth to connect with yours

* You get his message and let your lips and tongues dance in the heated clash

* Dante disconnects again and goes to kiss down your neck

* “You drive me fucking crazy.”

* He knows he finds your sweet spot once you let out a little moan

* “There it is.” He sucks on the spot which makes you let out another moan

* Before Dante can continue his actions you two hear a throat clear in the mic

* “Finally you two confessed but how about the first time you fuck it isn’t in a dirty alley. Where I can also hear.”

* You hide yourself in Dante’s chest out of embarrassment and the man groans

* “Did you really have to ruin the moment? Also I wouldn’t fuck her in a dirty alley, I have dignity.”

* “Whatever just get back to the van so I can take you guys back.”

* “Okay, okay we’re coming.”

* Dante steps back and takes off his jacket and helps you put it on

* Once it on he holds out his hand, “Let’s go home.”

* You grin at him, “Let’s!”

[justcat-judging]

⋆₊˚꩜𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐝𝐚𝐲

⋆. 𐙚˚- blue lock finally has a day off and they decided to go to the beach!

⋆. 𐙚˚-blue lock x f!reader (harem)

⋆. 𐙚˚-this is actually inspired

The bus ride to the beach had been loud, full of excitement and music blasting from someone’s speaker. The Blue Lock boys were more than ready for a day of relaxation—and chaos, probably. You, Y/n, were just relieved to feel the ocean breeze on your face after being cooped up in training facilities for so long.

The managers stuck together at first, helping set up umbrellas and snacks while the players raced toward the water like kids on a field trip. You held onto your cover-up tightly as you excused yourself to change, slipping into a nearby hut.

After a few minutes, you stepped out in your beach outfit: a soft white bikini underneath a sheer wrap tied around your waist and over your chest. You weren’t trying to make a statement—it was just light and comfortable for the weather. Still, you couldn’t help feeling a bit self-conscious as you walked across the sand.

While looking for a spot to lay your towel, you rounded a corner and nearly bumped into someone.

“Ah—sorry!” you said quickly, stopping short.

Isagi blinked, looking just as startled. “O-oh! Y/n! I didn’t see you there.”

You smiled, brushing some hair from your face. “No harm done. It’s kinda crowded out here.”

He nodded quickly, but his eyes flickered down to your outfit before darting away again, his face turning noticeably pink. “Um… you look nice,” he said quietly, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “I-I mean—cool! Like, beach-appropriate nice. Not—uh—”

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly. “Thanks, Isagi. You look beach-ready too.”

Before he could spiral further into flustered silence, Bachira popped up beside him, sandy and grinning. “There you are! Y/n! We need another person for volleyball—wanna join?”

You glanced between them. “Are the teams even?”

“They will be if you join ours,” Bachira said cheerfully, clearly just excited about the game.

You gave a small laugh and nodded. “Alright, I’m in. But no one better spike the ball at my face.”

Isagi relaxed a little, smiling shyly. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

The volleyball match wrapped up with loud cheers and exaggerated groans—Bachira had, predictably, gone a little too hard and accidentally launched the ball into the ocean. You’d been laughing so hard your sides ached.

With sand stuck to your legs and your throat dry, you made your way toward the little refreshment hut near the edge of the beach. A row of umbrellas shaded the wooden stall, and the scent of grilled corn and sweet coconut filled the air.

Just as you approached, you heard familiar voices ahead.

"Man, it’s way too hot out here," Karasu drawled, stretching lazily in the sun.

"Yeah, and the view just got even hotter," Otoya chimed in, his smirk unmistakable.

You paused mid-step, realizing they were looking straight at you.

Otoya whistled low under his breath, elbowing Karasu. “Did you know she had that under her manager uniform?”

Karasu tilted his head, clearly not making any effort to be subtle. “She’s been hiding this from us all training season?”

You crossed your arms over your chest instinctively. “Eyes up, boys.”

They both laughed, unbothered by the scolding.

“I’m just appreciating the sunshine,” Karasu said with a shrug.

“Sure you are,” you replied flatly.

Then Yukimiya stepped in between them, giving both of them a slight glare. “That’s enough.”

You blinked in surprise as he turned toward you with a calm smile, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear.

“Hey, Y/n. Hope they didn’t bother you.”

You smiled softly, relaxing. “Not at all. I’m just grabbing a drink.”

“Good idea,” he said, stepping aside so you could move closer to the stand. “The coconut juice here is supposed to be really refreshing.”

“Perfect,” you nodded. “I could drink, like, three.”

Yukimiya chuckled. “Then let me get the first one for you. My treat.”

Before you could protest, he was already placing the order.

Behind him, Otoya leaned toward Karasu and whispered, “She definitely smiled at me more.”

Karasu snorted. “Delusional.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto your lips. Beach day was turning out more eventful than expected.

After thanking Yukimiya with a soft smile and a grateful sip of the ice-cold coconut juice, you made your way back toward the spot you’d claimed earlier—just a little away from the crowd, shaded by a striped umbrella and littered with towels, sandals, and sunblock.

You’d barely taken a step onto your towel when you felt it—arms suddenly wrapping around your waist, a familiar weight leaning into your back, and a sleepy sigh against the crook of your neck.

“…Y/n,” a groggy voice mumbled, “finally.”

You didn’t even need to turn around. Only one person could melt into you like that without warning and act like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Nagi,” you said, half amused, half exasperated. “You're literally sun-warmed and sticky. What are you doing?”

“Hugging,” he mumbled, not moving an inch. “Missed you.”

Your heart softened instantly.

It had been a while. Between his matches, your manager duties, and the chaos of Blue Lock, you hadn’t seen Nagi in person for weeks. Texts and late-night voice messages could only do so much.

So you let him stay.

He shuffled behind you as you carefully sat down, his arms never leaving your waist. Once you were settled on the towel, he dropped down beside you, his cheek resting against your chest—not in a lewd way, just comfortably, like it was the safest place in the world.

You ran a hand through his hair absently. “You really are a sloth, huh?”

He hummed contentedly, arms tightening around your middle. “Warm. Smell good. You’re not allowed to leave for that long again.”

You opened your mouth to tease him, but another voice spoke up nearby.

“Sorry if he’s suffocating you.”

You looked up to see Reo walking toward you, towel draped over his shoulder, expression caught somewhere between fond and apologetic.

“It’s fine,” you said with a smile, still stroking Nagi’s hair. “He’s been like this for two minutes and I’m already used to it.”

Reo chuckled, kneeling beside your towel. “He’s been talking about seeing you for days. I think this is his version of making up for lost time.”

Nagi mumbled something into your chest, muffled but vaguely understandable: “Told you I missed her.”

Reo gave you a look like see what I deal with?

You just laughed softly, resting your chin on Nagi’s head. “I missed you too, Nagi.”

The waves crashed nearby. The sun was warm. And, despite the clingy boy attached to you like a second skin, it felt like the most peaceful moment of the whole day.

Finally prying yourself away from Nagi (which involved promising him you'd come back in five minutes and bribing him with the rest of your coconut juice), you stretched your arms and took a deep breath of ocean air.

But peace? Short-lived.

Just a few meters away, you spotted a commotion—two tall figures squared off, voices raised, beach towel kicked aside like a casualty.

“Wanna say that again, you emo prince?” Shidou snapped, eyes wild with that too-bright grin.

Rin’s jaw clenched, arms crossed but fists tight. “You’re the one who started it. Just shut up for once.”

Ah. Of course it was them.

You made your way over just as Rin stepped forward, shoulders tense, and Shidou cracked his neck like he was ready.

“Okay, no. No punches on the beach,” you said firmly, sliding between them before someone could get decked in the face. “What are you, toddlers?”

Both of them paused.

Rin was the first to react. His sharp eyes flicked down—first at your legs, your bikini top still peeking out from under your tied-up wrap, then back to your face. His cheeks tinted instantly.

“Tch…” he muttered, looking away with a scowl that couldn’t quite hide his embarrassment. “You should cover up more. It’s distracting.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Distracting, huh?”

“I didn’t mean—shut up,” he mumbled, turning slightly so you wouldn’t see just how red his ears were.

Before you could poke fun, Shidou let out a low whistle, eyes very obviously not avoiding anything.

“Well, damn, princess. You’ve been walking around like that all day?” he said, flashing you a wicked grin. “Kinda rude not to give me a heads-up.”

You crossed your arms. “Seriously?”

“What? I’m just appreciating what I see,” Shidou said with a shrug, licking his lips like he was seconds from saying something worse. “Don’t worry—I’ll fight Rin with one hand if you wanna hold the other.”

Rin looked like he was seconds from murdering him. “You’re disgusting.”

“And you’re jealous,” Shidou shot back.

“Enough,” you said, stepping between them again. “Can we not make everything into a battlefield?”

Shidou tilted his head. “You saying you want me all to yourself, then?”

Rin scoffed and walked away without another word, muttering something under his breath you were pretty sure wasn’t family-friendly.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I swear, you two need leashes.”

Shidou just laughed. “Only if you’re the one holding mine.”

After successfully breaking up Rin and Shidou (again), you finally returned to your towel for some rest—only to be greeted by a shadow and a splash of water on your leg.

You looked up just as Chigiri flicked his wet hair back like he was in a commercial. “You’re not seriously spending all day just sitting, right?”

You squinted. “Some of us like peace.”

He grinned, offering a hand. “Come swim with us. You’ve got sunscreen on and everything. What’s the point of being at the beach if you’re not in the water?”

Before you could say no, Kunigami popped up behind him, practically glowing in the sun. “It’s warm today, the waves aren��t bad, and we’re making teams. You have to join.”

You looked at both of them—Chigiri smirking like he knew you’d cave, and Kunigami with the world’s most convincing puppy-dog eyes—and sighed dramatically. “Fine. But if I get dunked, I’m haunting both of you.”

Chigiri held out his pinky. “Deal.”

The next thing you knew, you were in the water, floating alongside the two of them, laughing as Chigiri tried (and failed) to splash you without getting his hair wet again. The water was perfect, cool enough to be refreshing but warm enough to enjoy.

Then Kunigami bent slightly and said, “Wanna get on my shoulders? We’re doing chicken fights.”

You blinked. “I’m not fighting anyone—”

“You won’t have to,” he grinned. “Just hold on.”

Before you could protest, his strong arms lifted you effortlessly, and suddenly, you were on his shoulders, water dripping off your arms and your legs swinging above the waves. You laughed out loud, instinctively gripping his hair for balance.

“This is not fair,” Chigiri huffed beside you, “You’ve got the tank on your team.”

You flashed him a grin. “Maybe you should’ve asked first, Prince Charming.”

Kunigami chuckled below you. “Comfortable up there?”

“Very,” you said, arms resting on his head casually.

The three of you stayed in the water for a while—laughing, playfully splashing each other, and teaming up to knock Bachira over when he tried to sneak attack.

Chigiri swam up next to you at one point, brushing his wet bangs back. “You should smile like that more often. It suits you.”

You blinked. “Where did that come from?”

He shrugged, cheeks faintly pink. “Just saying.”

Kunigami, still holding you steady, chuckled. “He’s right, though.”

You stared down at both of them, suddenly a little flustered. You just wanted a swim, and now you’re out here getting complimented by two.

After swimming with Kunigami and Chigiri, and drying off under the sun with a fruit popsicle in hand, you were just about to lie down when Bachira suddenly appeared out of nowhere, goggles crooked and dripping with seawater.

“Y/n! Group photo time!!” he yelled, spinning around in the sand like an excited golden retriever.

You blinked. “Photo?”

“Yup!” Reo confirmed, walking over with his hair slicked back and phone in hand. “We figured we should take one before the sun starts setting.”

“Everyone’s already gathering by the rocks,” Chigiri said, tossing you your towel as you dried your face. “Come on.”

You followed them toward the water’s edge, where the entire chaos squad was already assembled—some shirtless, some still wet, all trying to figure out how to pose without looking like idiots.

“Okay, okay,” Reo said, holding the phone out with a Bluetooth clicker. “Timer’s on. Everyone settle down.”

Immediately: chaos.

“I wanna stand next to Y/n,” Shidou declared, walking straight to your side.

“You’re literally banned from being near her,” Rin deadpanned, dragging him by the shoulder and yanking him back.

“She can stand between me and Reo,” Nagi mumbled, grabbing your wrist and pulling you closer, head already trying to lean on your shoulder.

“She was next to me first,” Kunigami frowned, trying to step in without looking too pushy.

“Guys, guys—triangle formation,” Bachira yelled. “Y/n in the center. We’re the corners of her heart!”

“I’m literally begging you to shut up,” Isagi muttered, though he still moved to stand closer to you anyway, rubbing the back of his neck, blush creeping up his cheeks.

“I’m taller, so I should stand behind her,” Yukimiya offered politely, already taking position and adjusting his sunglasses.

“You just want the wind to hit your hair like you’re on a perfume ad,” Karasu said, rolling his eyes.

You? You stood dead center, half-laughing, half-wanting to scream, athletic boys all jostled for a place in a single beach selfie.

“Okay—everyone freeze!” Reo shouted, clicker in hand. “On three!”

“One…”

Shidou leaned closer. “Hey, you smell like coconut.”

“Two…”

Rin scowled. “Don’t breathe near her.”

“Three—”

Click.

The final photo?

You in the center, smiling in total disbelief, with Nagi hugging your waist, Rin scowling at Shidou who’s mid-wink, Bachira throwing peace signs behind two people's heads, Yukimiya posing like a cover model (cuz he is), Chigiri flipping his hair, Kunigami awkwardly flexing without meaning to, and Otoya/Karasu throwing finger hearts like it’s K-pop debut day.

Possibly the most chaotic and perfect beach memory you’ve ever had.

Just when you thought the group photo marked the end of the day’s chaos, the universe had other plans. You were scrolling through the blurry selfies and photobombed disasters on Reo’s phone when a ripple of noise went through the beach.

Someone pointed. Someone gasped.

And then, like the final bosses in a fashion game—

He arrived.

Sae Itoshi, draped in an open button-up and low-hanging swim shorts, sauntered across the sand like the whole beach was a runway. His towel hung casually around his neck, damp hair slicked back, sunglasses low on his nose. A total contrast to the screaming, sandy mess that was the rest of the Blue Lock boys.

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re late.”

He shrugged, glancing around at the chaos. “I’m not the one who planned a beach trip like it’s a school field trip.”

Before you could respond, his eyes raked over your fit—once, subtly—and his brows twitched slightly. “That bikini suits you.”

You blinked. “You actually gave me a compliment without rolling your eyes.”

“I’m evolving,” he said flatly, though the tiniest curve at the edge of his lips betrayed him. “Don’t get used to it.”

Before you could reply, someone else really made an entrance.

Loud music suddenly blasted from a portable speaker. Someone’s towel blew away. And striding in with absolute swagger and a gold chain catching the light—

Michael Kaiser.

He wore the cockiest grin known to man, aviator shades, and a tank top that somehow said “yes, I know I’m hot” without needing text.

“Oh, how quaint,” Kaiser drawled, surveying the group. “A team bonding day? And no one invited the most valuable player?”

“Who invited him?,” Isagi asked the person next to him, making Kaiser glare at him.

Kaiser’s eyes finally landed on you—and immediately lit up. “Liebling.” He took your hand dramatically and kissed the air above it. “How are you the only thing worth looking at here?”

Sae rolled his eyes so hard you heard it.

“Save the theatrics for your highlight reel,” he muttered.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Sae,” Kaiser said sweetly. “Jealous I make a better entrance?”

“I’m just jealous of whoever gets to mute you,” Sae replied dryly.

You, caught in the middle, looked at both of them like they were on a cooking show and you were the exhausted judge. “Are you two done?”

They both answered at once:

“No.” – Sae

“Never.” – Kaiser

You sighed and walked off. “I’m going back to Nagi. He doesn't talk this much.”

(A/n: I'll always find ways to add them.)

The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in warm gold and fading purples. The fire crackled in the middle of a wide ring of towels and beach chairs, casting orange light, toasted marshmallows, and sun-sleepy faces.

Someone brought snacks. Someone else brought a speaker (ehem Kaiser and Sae).

And somehow, against all odds, everyone was sitting (mostly) peacefully—curled in towels, hoodies, and spare shirts, the salty air mixing with the smell of burning wood and chocolate.

You sat on a towel by the fire, hair still slightly damp. Nagi had his head in your lap again, already half-asleep, and Bachira was next to you drawing little faces in the sand with a stick.

The fire flickered. The moment felt… weirdly calm.

“I think today was nice,” you said softly.

Kunigami, across from you, nodded. “It was.”

There was a beat of silence—rare for this group—and then Reo, sitting on a cooler, suddenly went, “Hey. Real question.”

Everyone looked at him.

“If we weren’t all competing,” he said, “and things were simpler… who do you think would be your beach date?”

A chorus of groans.

“Reo—”

“Seriously?”

“Bro, don’t start—”

But you just raised an eyebrow. “You mean if I had to choose one of you?”

He grinned. “Exactly.”

“Let her breathe,” Sae muttered, sipping a soda.

“I’m breathing just fine,” you said, amused, “but I’m not playing favorites.”

“Coward,” Shidou said with a smirk.

Kaiser leaned forward with a cocky gleam in his eye. “You did look good sitting next to me by the water.”

“Yeah, until you almost pushed Isagi in.”

“You’re welcome for the entertainment.”

Nagi stirred in your lap. “You should pick me,” he mumbled sleepily. “I don’t talk much. Easy beach date.”

Rin glanced over from where he was fiddling with a marshmallow skewer, face half-lit by firelight. “As long as she’s happy,” he said quietly. “That’s what matters.”

The soft tone made you look at him—and blink. Did Rin just…?

Isagi rubbed the back of his neck. “Honestly… same.”

You laughed. “Okay, okay. I’ll think about it.”

But even as they bickered again, and Bachira started up a sandcastle contest no one asked for, your eyes scanned the group—each boy so different, so chaotic, but so them.

And you thought—

Maybe I don’t need to choose just yet (Rin).

The fire cracked again.

Nagi shifted, sighing in content.

Kaiser winked from across the fire.

Sae looked away when you caught him watching.

Rin kept stealing glances.

And Chigiri brushed your shoulder gently as he sat down beside you.

Yeah.

This summer?

Was perfect.

[yukioos]

dying eijiro’s hair

eijiro wasn’t always the confident, uplifting boy he was today. he used to have low self-esteem and worried about how he was able to use his quirk to save others. watching heroes and their classmates do so much to help out other students made him hesitate, did he want to be the same person as them?

he did.

so he decided from then on, after he saw mina saving her classmates from a villain in middle school, he would become a hero too. he worked towards his goal, and when he was accepted into UA, he dyed his hair, hoping to have a fresh, new start and leave his past behind.

he told you all of that a couple of months into dating you after you noticed his hair wasn’t naturally red. instead, his roots were black, so sometimes you would help him dye his hair, as he didn’t want it changing back.

and that happened again today. the two of you were walking to the common room when he kneeled to take a textbook from his backpack, having to review a topic for math when you saw his roots. black poked out of his scalp, a sign he needed to bleach and dye it red again.

you played with his hair and mumbled, “eiji,” earning a hum, his head turning towards you with curious eyes, “we should probably do a root touch-up, huh?”

he agreed with a nod, “yeah, it’s been a couple of weeks since i last dyed it,” he paused, thinking for a minute, “i already have the bleach and dye. wanna help me this time?” he already told you of his past, you understood why he dyed it, so why not have you help him every time from now on?

your heart warmed at the question, and you nodded, heading to his dorm with him, hand in hand. the two of you chatted along the way, and he quickly grabbed all the supplies he needed to bleach his hair, then headed back to the bathroom.

you stood behind the tall, muscular boy as he ranted about something you weren’t paying much attention to. instead, your eyes were on his, and the sweet smile he showed whenever he was fixated on something.

once you arrived at the bathroom, he placed all the supplies on the counter and lifted you by your hips to hoist you onto the counter as well. a small help came from your mouth, emitting a small chuckle from your boyfriend’s lips. you rolled your eyes, getting to work as you already knew what to do with his hair. you’d seen him dye it a million times, so you had a clear idea of what you were to do.

eijiro stood in between your parted legs with his large, rough hands on your thighs. he was talking about katsuki threatening to explode his ass to pieces, and you nodded each time he told you more of the story. even as you separated his hair into sections with your colorful clips, he still looked adorable, smile not faltering for even a second.

so you put on your gloves and mixed bleach products into a bowl, then picked up a smooth amount on your brush. you turned eijiro around, starting at the back of his scalp as he still talked. once you were done with his whole scalp, you waited for some time before letting eijiro shower and wash his hair, feeling better once your nails scratched his scalp so soothingly.

you then mixed the red dye into a separate bowl and changed brushes and gloves before brushing it onto his hair. after following the instructions and waiting for the amount of time said on the back of the container, you washed eijiro’s hair again.

he looked into the mirror, checking all sections of his hair before grinning and praising, “woah, babe, you did a really good job! normally i miss a few spots but you did perfect! thanks!”

your cheeks became warm at the praise, and you playfully rolled your eyes before gently grabbing his cheeks and holding them in your hands. you looked up into his loving red eyes and placed a plush kiss on his lips, feeling the corners of his lips twitch.

“you’re so handsome, eiji,” you mumbled, moving your body closer to his with a smile.

eijiro placed his hands on your hips, then moved one up to comfortingly rub your back, “god, you treat me too well,” he muttered before smirking and placing another kiss on your lips.

i don’t know anything about dying hair so sorry if this was inaccurate

[bunni-v1]

Not really a request? Just wanna throw an idea out into the void- (Pure Vanilla x Y/N)

I think it would be really funny if one day Custard Cookie the third just asks if we're their new great-grandparent now.

Whether or not he WANTS US to be his great-grandparent is a whole other thing and I think no one talks about it considering how many funny dynamics it opens up based on what stage of the relationship he asks.

I don't know how in character it would be but Custard Cookie wanting us as a great-grandparent and mentioning that to PV might kill the old man

Custard Cookie IS that kid. He’s so very obviously the kind of child who walks up and asks awkward and annoying questions to adults, he’s so fucking cute I adore that little guy. It’s especially adorable considering how much he looks up to Pure Vanilla.

I think he would certainly come up to you and try to win your approval. He follows either of you around like a lost duckling trying to prove his capabilities to both of you. He notices quickly that your relationship with one another is different from other cookies. You’re closer and more affectionate with one another, and Pure Vanilla treats you with more care compared to the others around the kingdom.

It is inevitable that the little cookie asks not only about your relationship, but also if you are his grandparent now. It’s a startling question to hear, especially considering neither of you look like grandparents (though Pure Vanilla certainly is old enough to be one). Pure Vanilla would certainly like you to share the title with him, but he won’t push you on it. If you do agree he’s over the moon and practically shining for the rest of the week.

His reaction does change depending on how long you’ve been together.

In the earlier years of your relationship Pure Vanilla responds with shock and embarrassment. He’s very quick to jump up and correct Custard Cookie for fear of making you uncomfortable. He very much likes the idea of being with you in such a way, marriage is very romantic after all, but it’s a little early to be considering such a thing!

Custard Cookie doesn’t care, though, and declares that you are his new grandparent! He goes around the kingdom and tells everyone of this, much to Pure Vanilla’s stress. You take it in stride, treating the little cookie as if he were your own dough and jam, coddling him and spoiling him as any grandparent might. It certainly reframed Pure Vanilla’s thoughts on the whole situation, but he still worries it’s a bit too much…

If it is later on in the relationship, Pure Vanilla is much more receptive to the thought. Nodding in agreement when he asks, “Yes. I would very much like that, wouldn’t you?”

He’s put you on the spot, but the only correct answer you could think of was “Yes, of course.”

Custard Cookie excites, declaring he will spread the news about the kingdom thenceforth. It’s utterly charming how giddy the little cookie gets. Pure Vanilla suggests that perhaps the two of you should make one of your own, after all, another companion for Custard Cookie couldn’t be so bad right?

[lieslab]

Where's my love? Pt. 2

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Chan X afab reader

Summary: After reuniting with your boyfriend and making amends, your daughter has a variety of new people to meet.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 3.5K

~ Part 1 ~

A/N: A lot of you asked for more, so here we are. There's a little angst here, but mostly lots and lots of fluff. Will there be a part three? Probably not. There was never meant to be a part two, but you all begged and flooded the comments of the first part, so hopefully this fulfills all your desires for a second part <3

_ _ _

“You weren’t lying, you really kept your apartment looking the exact same.” 

“Of course, I kept it looking the same. I wanted you to come back home. You lived here for so long, I couldn’t bother changing it.” 

Four years, seven months, and two days; nearly a thousand and seven-hundred days. The sun rose and the moon followed from a steady distance. Always yearning, always hoping, but never following and holding. 

You followed behind Chan, walking into his apartment, with your daughter sleeping soundlessly in your arms. Her head tucked safely in the crook of your arm. He offered to carry her, but you didn’t want to give her up. Still unsure of the situation and how he felt about you, an awkwardness slipped between the two of you. 

Odette refused to let go of Chan back at the grocery store. Even when the two of you headed to the checkout, she clung to him like a koala. Wolf Chan pressed between her arm and Chan’s chest. Utterly smitten with Chan’s presence, he couldn’t even put her down to pay for his groceries. 

When he pulled out his wallet and fumbled for his debit card, you had to reach out and assist. When you parted ways in the parking lot, promising to head back to his place and follow him, she screamed at the top of her lungs when you pulled her away. 

Shiny crocodile tears, a wiggling bottom lip, and outstretched hands. Kicking snow boots and ripping off her hat in the process. “Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! I wanna stay with Daddy!” 

In her car seat, she screamed louder. Odette barely threw tantrums like that. The last tantrum resulted because you wouldn’t allow her to climb into the oven to watch the cupcakes bake. You tried your best to describe the heat and how dangerous the oven was. She insisted she was cold and needed to watch them rise from inside. 

After pulling her away from trying to jerk open the oven’s door, her tears stopped when you turned on the oven light. For minutes, you sat in front of the oven with her on your lap. She asked question-after-question about the cupcakes and you patiently answered all of them. 

In the car, buckled into her car seat, her legs kicked wildly. She shrieked as you shut the door. Tugging at the harness, squirming in her coat, and trying to free herself from the temporary prison you placed her in. Chan stared in disbelief and all you could do was offer a distressed apology. He nodded, hating to get in his car and drive off, worrying about Odette, but he trusted you’d follow him. 

To his relief, you did. Deep down, you’d never live down the regret of leaving. You owed him something and gave him nothing when you left. Not a good-bye. Not a real reason. Nothing, but the phantom of your shadow and the sound of his own beating hollowed heart. 

“Is she okay sleeping on the couch or-” 

“The couch is okay.” You kicked off your shoes and followed him through the entryway. Inside his apartment, all the memories flooded back. The taste of home cooked breakfast and laughter that bounced off the walls late in the evening. 

In the living room, you slowly placed a sleeping Odette down on the suede gray couch. You worked as carefully as you could, slowly unzipping her coat, and gently working her arms out of it. You didn’t want her to overheat in the warmth of Chan’s apartment. 

When you finished, you neatly folded it and placed it beside you. You wiggled off her boots and stood up, catching another glance of Chan in the process. Your eyes met his and before you could place the shoes back with your own, he squeezed you in a tight hug. 

“God, I missed you so much.” His arms wrapped around your back. You still smelled like you. Something sweet and fresh. Maybe it was your shampoo, or perhaps you just naturally smelled that way. Whatever it was, he missed it. 

The sheets lost your scent a few days after you left. It faded away and replaced itself with his. It didn’t mean he didn’t try to find it. You left behind your perfume, leaving him with only the temporary scent of you. Too many times, he sprayed his pillow with it. Burying his head into the fabric, cradling it to his body, praying it’d one day be you. 

“I’m sorry. It’s not enough, but for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” Tears pushed into your own eyes. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, really, I didn’t.” 

“I would have helped you with everything.” 

“I didn’t want you to have to make that choice. I didn’t want to put you in a position. You said you wanted to make music for a long time, so I left. I didn’t want to be the reason you gave up your passion, I couldn’t have.” 

“But I love you.” 

Your head shook and you weakly laughed. “That doesn’t matter, Chan. Once you put your mind to something, you go all in. You would have given up everything to help out with a newborn. We weren’t married. We weren’t anything, besides two people head over heels for each other.” 

You didn’t get a chance to put the shoes away. He grabbed your face, almost a little too desperately. His lips hit yours without a second thought. The fireworks disappeared a long time ago. The butterflies grew extinct, but with one kiss, they reappeared; monarchs flying back home in steady swarms after a cold winter. 

When he pulled away, you didn’t let him get far. Instead, you reached out with your free hand. Grabbing the front of his coat and yanking his lips back to yours. The words didn’t have to be said out loud. 

You still loved him and he still craved you. You might have left, but the intimacy never died. The love had been placed on pause, but it marched onward. Someone hit play on a frozen movie. A glitch took you a few years into the future. You both looked a little older, but the love remained as timeless as ever. 

You dropped Odette’s boots. Too caught up in the moment, you grabbed him with your other hand. Your fingers curled around the back of his neck. Bodies pressed so close, every heart beat from him condensed with your own. 

Personal space didn’t exist. Your lips mended together, as if you just kissed last night. Long and passionate. Your bodies each spoke in ways that your words couldn’t. You’d never be able to describe just how much you missed him. Not fully. 

Laying in a hospital room, giving birth entirely alone. The only visitors you gained were nurses and your doctor. When they placed Odette on your chest, tears welled in your eyes. Instead of love and support, all you felt was a nagging ache. Chan’s phantom stood at the edge of the bed, taking it all in. 

You nearly broke down then. His number was in your phone. All you had to do was unblock it and hit the call button. He’d do anything for you. Drop it all. Come running in, holding your hand, and promising you’d be okay, but you couldn’t. You refused to destroy everything he built. 

He worked so hard, you told him time and time again. You meant every bit of it. When you held him during his rough moments and coaxed the truth from him about his problems, he never felt like a burden to you. You wanted to unravel the tangled knots in his brain. Make him understand the way you saw him. 

Not someone imperfect and riddled with flaws, but someone full of burning passion and exploding with love. Finding strength in every little thing. You wanted to make him as happy as he made you. 

And then you left. 

To say you hurt him, it was an understatement. You didn’t just hurt him, you rocked his world. He never went out and tried to find love again. He didn’t do it and he couldn’t. How could he? The only person he loved so deeply, you left him without a good-bye. 

Ghosted. Gone. Good-bye. You didn’t just hurt his heart, you cut it out and ripped it from his chest. Wandering away, you took his heart with you. You didn’t bother returning it until now. 

When you pulled away, he hugged you tighter, not wanting to let go and risk you leaving again. “Please,” he whispered. “Please, don’t leave me again. Let me help you with all of this. I want to be part of her life, too.” 

“I don’t want you to give up everything, Chan.” 

“Do you still love me?” 

“It’s not fair for you to ask me that.” 

“But do you?” He leaned back, cupping your cheeks, eager for your response. His own tears wet his eyes. 

“Of course, I still love you, you idiot. I never stopped loving you. I left because I loved you. I know I hurt you, but I thought it was the right thing.” 

“Then come back and make it better. I still love you, too.” He chuckled and followed it with a sniffle. Reaching up, to wipe away a few falling tears. “Stay with me and we’ll make it work.” 

“I don’t wanna fuck this up. If I agree, I don’t want to leave. She really deeply loves you.” You glanced over, taking your attention back to your daughter. “If we’re going to do this, you have to mean it. I can’t introduce the two of you properly and have you leave. I can handle that, but she can’t. She’s just a kid, Chan.” 

“How old is she?” 

“She’ll be four in a few months.” 

“Four? It’s been that long? Oh god.” 

“Do you know what her birthday wish is?” 

“What?” 

“She wanted to meet you and her uncles.” 

His face softened instantly. “Really? That’s all she wanted?” 

“Yes. I tried to interest her in something else, but that’s all she demanded. She’s very chatty and incredibly demanding.” 

“She didn’t get that trait from me.” 

“Yeah, yeah, sure, Chan.” 

He chuckled and glanced back towards your daughter. “I think that birthday present will come sooner rather than later.” 

“You should probably tell the guys you have a daughter before you appear with her.” 

“Or maybe not. What’s the worst that can happen?” 

~ ~ ~ 

The next afternoon, you thought you might throw up. You trusted Chan’s band members, at least, you thought you did. After Chan asked if he could bring the two of you into the JYP building to meet the guys, you agreed. 

Now that you were actually walking through the halls, you were starting to regret your decision. These halls used to feel familiar, but it’d been so long, your heart twisted in turmoil. In front of you, Odette’s little snow boots stomped heavily along the ground. Last night, multiple inches of snow let loose. 

One tiny hand in Chan’s and the other wrapped around Wolf Chan’s arm, she followed Chan through the long hall. “Okay, Wolf Channie, we gotta behave now. We’re gonna meet my uncles.” Her dark eyes went down and back up to the distant hall. 

Chan’s heart melted and he glanced back at you with a dimpled grin. You returned his smile and kept a steady pace behind the pair. Odette never went anywhere without it and to the company building meant no different. 

“Odette, what are you going to say to the guys?” Chan asked. “Hello, Uncles! I’m Odette Berry Bang!” Her little arm shot forward and her plushie fell to the ground. He bounced once and stopped moving. “Uh-ohs.” Her body jerked down to pick him up, causing Chan to stop. 

“Oh no. Did you drop him?” 

“Only once.” 

“Is he okay?” 

She pulled her other arm away from Chan’s hand and wiped the back of her hand over his head. After she finished, her lips pursed out. A loud ‘mwah’ echoed throughout the hall and she tucked him beneath her armpit. Reaching back up for Chan’s hand, she grabbed one of his fingers and tugged. “All better. Let’s go.” 

He feared he’d explode from her charm. The dimples indented into the sides of her tiny rounded cheeks. The way she waddled in her heavy winter boots, rambling so happily. It made his heart soar with excitement and happiness. 

After walking a little further, Chan stopped. “Are you tired? Do you want me to carry you?” 

“No, Daddy. We go, go, go. Come on!” She led him forward, not sure where to go, but assuming it led to wherever her uncles awaited. 

A squeaky laugh fell from his lips and he continued to follow behind her. A few more wooden doors passed until they reached the right one. Your nerves grew, but you had a little faith. The guys couldn’t be too mad, right? Not when a kid would be there with them. 

“Woah, sweetheart, it’s this one.” Chan slowly steered the pair to the direction of the door. “Do you want to knock?” 

She reached up with a flat hand, hitting the door a few times. “Hello, Uncles! It’s me! Open, open!” 

You shoved a hand over your mouth, trying not to laugh. Chan chuckled, reached up, and pushed the door open. In the dance practice room, the guys were all sprawled out. Not sure what awaited them, Chan texted them and asked them to gather in the specific room for a surprise. 

A few glanced up when the door opened. Odette took off, letting go of Chan’s hand, and rushing to the center of the room. “Hello, Uncles! I’m Odettie Berry Bang!” 

Minho blinked a few times, taking in the kid a few feet away from him. His head instantly turned to Chan. “Is this a joke? We’re babysitting some random kid?” 

“No random! I’m Odettie Berry Bang! I’m fiove!” She held up two hands, showing off all ten fingers. 

Seungmin’s eyes squinted her way. “Hmm. You don’t look five. Aren’t you a little too short to be five?” 

She huffed, stomped her foot, and attempted to cross her arms over the Wolf Chan plush. “Bad puppy.” 

“Excuse me?”

Bang Chan burst into another fit of loud laughter, causing Felix to slap a hand over his mouth. Grins appeared around the room. Jeongin spoke up in the distance. “That’s right, bad puppy. Channie hyung, who is this? Seriously?” 

He glanced behind him. You stood outside the door, hidden behind the wall. He raised an eyebrow and you sighed and nodded. He shifted, allowing you to walk into the room. Eyes went wide at your sudden appearance. 

“Holy sh-!” 

“Oh my god!” 

“You’re back!” 

“YOU BRED WITH BANG CHAN? EW! HE’S OLD!” 

“Bad puppy.” Odette called out again. She picked up her plushie and chucked it, letting it bounce off Seungmin’s head. It bounced off and fell onto the floor, causing him to huff, and glare once more. 

Before you could respond, Changbin rushed over and scooped you up. “We missed you! Who is this? Is she really five?” The questions came out in rapid fire, but you couldn’t speak. Not with all the pressure squeezing your lungs. 

“Bin, you’re gonna hurt-” 

“Sorry, sorry. I got really excited. Odettie Berry Bang?” He spun around, dropping to his knees. “Are you really five?” 

She giggled and shook her head. Tendrils of black hair swished in every direction. “No, silly. I prank Uncles! I’m this many.” 

Changbin took his time slowly counting her fingers. “One, two, three. You’re three?” 

“And a half!” 

He beamed. “Wow! That’s so cool!” 

Han shifted and crawled closer on his hands and knees. “You look just like Chan.” 

“He’s Daddy to you.” 

“Okay, well, you look like your Daddy. You’re sassy like him, too.” Han nodded, agreeing with his own words. 

“Yep! You better listen or I-” 

“Shiver me timbers,” Felix whispered. Her eyes widened and her face fell. “Uh-oh. Did I make her upset or-” 

She screeched and rushed over with stubby legs. With barely any time to react, Felix reached out quickly to steady her as she clung to him. “Woah, there. Be careful, or you’ll fall.” 

“You’ve got me!” 

“You’re right, I do.” He reached up and gently patted her back. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

“Yep, yep, yep.” 

“Hyunjin?” Chan glanced to the other side of the practice room. “Are you okay? You look a little pale.” 

“You look like you saw a ghost,” Minho added. 

He waved them off. “Yeah, I’m just…” He shut his eyes and rubbed his face. “I can’t believe we’re uncles. I mean I figured it’d happen someday, but… wow.” 

“Surprised?” Odette’s tiny face popped up over Felix’s shoulders. “I pranked?” 

“You are very much a surprise.” He slumped to the floor, so she could visit him if she wanted to. “What do three and a half year olds like?” 

“Dinosaurs! Rawr!” Small fingers curled into raptor claws. She leaned forward, trying to lunge over Felix’s shoulder, but he grabbed her a little tighter. 

“Easy there, girl. You’re going to scare the rest of your uncles.” 

“Sorry, Uncles. I go back to Odettie Berry.” 

“Good choice.” 

Felix patted her back and let her go. She wandered through the maze of the guys, observing each of them up close. When she got to Minho, she paused and hesitated. Her feet shuffled in the direction of Chan. 

“Daddy?” 

“Yes, sweetheart?” 

“Is Uncle Minho going to air fry me?” 

“Only if you think Uncle Hyunjin is better than me.” 

Her eyes widened and her head shook. She spun back around to face him, hurried over, and hugged him. You and Chan couldn’t even be mad. The devious joy that lit up Minho’s face, it was hard to hate. 

“That’s rude. Miss Odette, I wouldn’t put you in the air fryer because I’m not a mean uncle.” Hyunjin pouted and sprawled back on the floor. 

In the distance, Jeongin crawled forward. He peeked over Minho’s shoulder with a shy smile. “She’s so cute. She reminds me of my little brother when he was younger.” 

“Uncle had a brother?” She stumbled back from Minho to place her attention on Jeongin. 

“Uncle Jeongin has two brothers.” He leaned forward and held up two fingers.

“Daddy?” 

“Yes, Odette?” 

“When is Mommy going to make me a brother?” 

That sent the guys roaring with laughter. Han and Hyunjin laughed the loudest. Seungmin’s hand found his stomach and he pointed to the two of you. Both of your faces turned bright red. 

“Um, well…” 

“When the time is right, maybe.” You finally uttered. “But we have you and really love you.” 

“Aw, man.” 

“Odette, do you want a little brother?” Seungmin took his attention back to the young girl. “Want to have someone to play with?” 

“I wanna boss him around like Daddy bosses around the uncles.” 

Another wave of laughter fell over the room. Changbin’s hands covered his face, each syllable of laughter came out louder than the previous. Chan playfully rolled his eyes and you shook your head. “Maybe in the future, honey.” 

“Aw, man.” She frowned with a sigh. She plopped on the ground, not thrilled about the news. 

“I don’t think it’s so bad. In the meantime, you have your uncles and we’ll be happy to play with you.” Felix squirmed over, plopping down next to her. “You can boss us around.” 

“Oh, speak for yourself. You can’t boss me around. Hwang Hyunjin doesn’t take orders.” 

“He does if he doesn’t wanna be put in my air fryer.” 

“And suddenly Hwang Hyunjin is vowing to do anything that Miss Odette asks him to do. Go ahead, child. Speak your desires and I shall make them happen.” 

“Be my pet dinosaur!” 

“Oh, hell n-” 

Chan shot him a warning glance and he sighed. “Yes, Miss Odette. Which kind of dinosaur shall I be today?” 

“T-Rex!” 

Hyunjin grumbled and held his elbows to his sides, mimicking a T-Rex’s arms. 

“Uncle Hyunjin, they roar and don’t speak.” 

You placed a hand over your mouth, trying not to interrupt your daughter’s demands. Hyunjin rolled his eyes and weakly let out a roar. Odette rushed over to him and grabbed the side of his sweatpants. “Dino, let’s walk.” 

And so they did. Hyunjin squawked and sauntered around the room. Wanting to join in, the other guys began morphing into their own dinosaurs. Chasing one another, roaring and trying not to laugh, they led Odette on her own dinosaur safari. 

You leaned against Chan, enjoying all of it. He glanced at you with another dimpled smile. “Thank you for coming back.” 

“I should be thanking you for allowing all this.” 

“Promise not to leave again?” 

“At this point, I’m vowing. We should get married or something.” 

His face fell and then reignited into an ear-to-ear grin. “Yes. Absolutely. We should pick out rings and get married. Then you can never leave me ever again and I-” 

“Mommy! Daddy! Come on! You’re ‘posed to be dinos, too. Yeehaw, Rexie!” 

Hyunjin’s shoulders slumped and he weakly made another noise. Somewhere between a faint roar and a defeated squawk. Your potential marriage would have to wait because Odette’s demands came with a hand on her hip. 

If you didn’t oblige, who knew what demands she’d conjure up next. 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @inlovewithstraykids @velvetmoonlght @chrizrizz @ari-hwanggg

Masterlist

Taglist and inbox rules

Ko-fi

[kissracing]

A-O-T-Y, I did win!, lewis hamilton

summary. singer-songwriter yn ln has not won an album of the year award at the grammys—until 2025!

featuring. lewis hamilton x black!female!reader (faceclaim beyonce)

this fic includes. . . swearing, i lowkey made this a yn centered fic rather than lewis by accident ? idk how much sense that makes.

twitter • fan accounts • grammy nominations

instagram • yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, cocojones, and others

yourusername 11 Nominations? Absolute insanity, thank you to the Recording Academy, and to all my fans who enjoyed COWBOY CARTER. Here’s some extra CC photos I took but never posted :) 🤠🍯🐝

♥︎ 2.4M 💬 81.5k ➢

lewishamilton 📌 Congratulations my love. You worked so hard on this album and it’s showing off ❤️🐝

⤷ yourusername love you Lew 🤍

user THIS YEAR WILL BE OUR YEAR BEEHIVE 🙏🏽

user ZOOO WEEE MAA GOD LORDDDT

user how can lewis handle allat 😒

theestallion ❤️❤️❤️

user CAN LEWIS FIGHT???

user if ya ya doesn’t win, im rioting

user why didn’t u post these sooner 🥀🥀🥀

user 2nd photo is so cunty wow

alexandrasaintmleux Congratulations omggg 💗🐝

➥ user ferrari wags supporting each other 🥹🥹

user are you performing queen pleek say yes

⤷ user you know good n well she won’t be performing lmaooo

⤷ user A GIRL CAN HOPE 😭

user AOTY WILL BE YOURS

twitter • fan accounts • grammy day

instagram • yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, alexandrasaintmleux, and others

yourusername What an insane ass night 🥹! 3 awards including Album of the Year!! Thank so much to the 13,000 members of the recording academy and as well as my fans for supporting me no matter what. Love you all, see you soon 🏆🥇

♥︎ 3.1M 💬 90.5k ➢

lewishamilton AOTY, You did win! 😉❤️🐝

⤷ yourusername Cornball 😭🤍

user the emphasis on the 13,000 members LMFAOO

user “see you soon” that better be a tour announcement lady

user the different stages of emotions we were going through on twitter yall

alexandrasaintmleux Gorgeous !!! 💗

user SHE FINALLY WON AOTY!!! I FEEL LIKE A PROUD MOTHER 🥹☝🏽

user you look so damn good girl GAH DAMN

user lewis can handle all of that wow

user AND THIS WAS JUSTICE FOR YA YA NOT WINNING 🗣️

⤷ user AND SPAGHETTII

lilymhe Yn celebratory party at my house 🗣️🫶🏼

lando can i get free tickets to the tour please 🤲🏻

⤷ yourusername No big mouth.

⤷ lando ☹️☹️ PLEASE

⤷ user SO THERE WILL BE A TOUR???

user they mad asl on twitter BUT WDGAFF 🗣️

user one of her best looks

user you might wanna change that lyric in sweet honey buckiin queen

user MOTHERR

user her speech was so cute ☹️☹️

instagram • lewishamilton

liked by yourusername, doechii, and others

lewishamilton My winner 🏆🙌🏽 I’m so proud of you baby it’s not funny. Congratulations on everything you’ve done, you deserve it so so much ❤️

♥︎ 1.0M 💬 45.3k ➢

yourusername 📌 You’re sleeping on the couch.

⤷ lewishamilton Cmonnn the photo is funny 😓!!

⤷ yourusername You’re gonna be demoted to Roscoe’s house if you keep it up.

⤷ lewishamilton Sorry ma’am 🫡

⤷ user my parents ohhh 😭😭💗💗

user the photo of her and alicia omg

user THE FIRST SLIDE????

user love a man who stands 10 toes down for his wife ☝🏽

user SHES A CUTIE PATOOTIE 😭

user THE 4TH PHOTO LMFAOO

user the 2nd photo ohhh i love her so much

lando Going through the 5 stages of grief was worth it 🤞🏻

⤷ user EXACTLY LMFAO

user buying me a bottle of sir davis

user trying to get them tickers for the tour is gon be absolute hell 🥀☹️

authors note. uh.. this barely has lewis in it LMFAOO?? im SO sorry if this bothers you 😭!! trust i have another fic with beyonce as a fc for lewis and he’s in it a lot more 🫶🏽 (might make it a universe cus i love beyonce & lewis so) i just wanted to get this out cus it was rotting away since early march!

[nugwon-moved]

newbie ── ( 심재윤 )

synopsis — jake visits for a hangout with your brother, but things take a sharp right that night. ── smut (m.), mini fluff, requested. afab virgin!reader x brothers best friend!jake (requested) b/n = brothers name, y/n has a basement bedroom. wc: 4.2k!

warnings — detailed full fic / slow burn, being a virgin is not embarrassing—keep it as long as you want. trust me you’re not missing anything. losing your virginity, unprotected sex (safety first), kissing, slight pain and crying, prn with a mini plot, reader is innocent (kinda), yunjin (lsfm mention), masturbation, back shots, a little teasing, creampie, hints at breeding, mentions of aftercare, lots of kissing!

here’s the thing, every time your brother's best friend visits—you get this gut feeling. he recently moved back from korea and now he’s over more than ever. you thought you had escaped your tiny crush, the one you knew was so wrong but you never looked back after he’d left. he was back, and he was HOT.

“jake, long time no see.” you smiled leaning against the wall, in the last two years. both of you had changed, he’d gotten taller, gained a few muscles and the style changed too. you? same height but a little curvier, nice hips with a nice ass on you too. needless to say, the glo-up was serious—jake especially thought so, the way he looked at you, flirting with you without speaking a single word. “jake moved back officially, about time, we’re gonna hang out in the basement though, wanna join?”

this was odd, your brother never invited you to hang out with him and his friends before. it’s usually ‘get out’ or ‘please go away y/n.’ but it was jake someone you both grew up with. “i was gonna go get yunjin, and go shopping but i’ll hang with you guys or some other day,”

jake watched as you walked away, gently biting his lip, smelling the floral scent that exuded from your body. vanilla was his favorite. “stop checking her out, it’s creepy.” your brother sighed, shaking his head as he walked away. you couldn’t help but look back on the way to your car, smiling towards jake as you waved to him.

“so jake came, back…? and he’s—hot? i’m sorry i just don’t see innocent little jake who played the violin as hot.” yunjin chuckled as the two of you walked through the mall. god, he’s all you could think about, it made you sick. why did he have to look this good? those lips, his gaze.. the stance. he walks like he owns the place. “y/n fantasizing about your brother's best friend taking your pants off is very dirty and wrong, young lady.”

yunjin laughed, watching as you snapped out of your daydream about him. truth is, no one has ever touched you. simply because. ‘you’ll wait for me right..?’ replayed in your head way too much. the day jake said that to you—it just stuck with you, “he’s not even into me like that. once he finds out i’m a virgin still he’s gonna run, guys hate virgins.” you told yunjin.

“guys love virgins.” she rebutted, “you’ll see.”

a while after you walked back in the front door of your house. clearly hearing the boys laughing from the basement downstairs, your room. you placed your bags on the counter along with your keys and wallet, “i’m home b/n.” you called out to your brother, making your way downstairs. “what’re you guys doing?” without even looking at you, jake made your heart race.

you still couldn’t believe he was back, it was surreal. “we were just talking, catching up. i was about to head home though.” jake smiled, looking back at you from the couch. he’d probably be back again tomorrow... “i gotta use the bathroom—that burger ran through me!” your brother stood up, running into the bathroom.

“gross!” you groaned, sitting down next to jake, now you were alone. for the first time in two years. it was silent but it wasn’t uncomfortable—you played with your fingers as jake looked at you. watching you fidget and smiling at your face. he spoke but spoke lowly. jake admired you and he’s always has.. “i missed you, you know?”

“really? you never called.” you replied, humming softly as you finally looked at him. you hadn’t realized it yet, but jake was getting closer to you, “i waited for you though.” that look, you folded—like a piece of laundry… its actually erie how he gets you like this.

“yeah?” he smiled. jake was no stranger to intimacy but he took it seriously, only engaging in it with someone he cares for. “i’m glad, i’ve been waiting for you too—it’s been a long time.” he inched closer, and closer. hand gently resting on your thigh, “you were all i thought about..” his eyes flicked to your lips, pretty and they looked a little cold to him.

the tension was so thick—you didn’t know if it was sexual or romantic or if you were just nervous and reading to deep into it. as jake leaned closer so did you, kinda like a magnet. it just happened, his lips touched yours, brushing against one another’s. “can i kiss you?” he whispered; always one to ask for consent.. you loved that in a man. you nod, leaning in and closing the kiss between the two of you.

your brother would be gone for a little bit, and jake knew what he wanted to do. although it may not get that far—he’d get far enough to have you stuck on his mind for the rest of the night. jake pulled your body closer, laying you down on the couch softly while closing the space between the two of you. his lips: soft, warm, and gentle for yours. finally getting what they’d been craving for all this time.

it was the first time, the first time you ever kissed someone, on the lips—and the first time you ever really been this close to a boy- no, a man. the both of you knew this was wrong, you’ve always known this was wrong, but it felt so right. how could you resist him.. and how could you pass up on the opportunity to let him be your first anything. practically a once in a lifetime thing to you.

jake stopped though, the guilt of it crept up to his cheeks. clearly showing as they painted themselves with a pastel shade of pink. he pulled away, looking between your lips and your eyes, “i should go..” jake cleared his throat, standing to his feet and shuffling away, “bye, y/n..”

you ran your hand down your face after you heard the front door close, silently screaming, you were so close to… “i’m gonna be a virgin for the rest of my life..” you sighed. — “yeah you will, loser.” your brother said coming out of the bathroom, patting his hands on his pants as he made his way upstairs—to his room. you sighed, gathering your things to go shower and bed.

a few days had gone by and jake had visited every day since he’d gotten back, and since that night he hasn’t been able to keep his eyes off of you. “y/n~ lovely to see you awake this late?” it was close to midnight, your brother was passed out in his room and jake was most likely staying over. “what you up to?” he plopped down next to you, the basement, you’d placed your book down—glancing at him.

eyes slightly shifting to his lips before refocusing on his eyes. “reading,” you hummed, “nerd,” he chuckles, only teasing. it was so you to just sit on the basement couch and read.. he took the book gently, bookmarking it, and closed it. “promise you won’t lose your place, you owe me a movie night though.” jake hums sadly, he hadn’t gotten a chance to sit with you.

“what movie should we watch?” you pulled your knees up, sitting on them and slightly shortly your body towards his. what you were wearing? so simple and relaxed but… it turned him on a little. sweats and a cropped sweater, jake was a dog. “stop staring at my tits.” you teased him, pushing his shoulder playfully.

it was all playful. full of jokes and funny games—until now. jake wanted you, he wanted you bad, “anything,” he muttered, eyes locking with yours. he was almost positive you could feel the tension too. “still a virgin?” he hummed, crap you were practically praying that question never popped up. the silence told him what he wanted to know.

you played a random show, something you wouldn’t get to fixated or worried about missing out on. jake’s eyes still on you, it’s like he never looked away, never blinked—no emotion just mind all on you.

“told you i’d wait for you.”

“yeah, but i didn’t think you’d not indulge a little.” because he did—how could he not. he lived in korea, in an apartment building for people his age... he’s had his fair share. “do you want to.. lose it one day?” you nod. “when?” he quickly answered, he wanted to be that person, it was clear and obvious. he never said it out loud, nor did he explain what ‘wait for me’ really meant. like wait for me to come back, or wait for me before you find someone else or fall in love..?

“is this an interview?” you laughed, “nervous?” but jake was still serious, focused and the gaze was intense. “really soon, i’m the only virgin left in my friend group it’s kind of embarrassing.. but i don’t want to do with just anyone.. not everyone is clean or have the right intentions.” jake understood, running his hand through his hair. he needed to think about this—so he looked away.

‘could i take her virginity..? i mean what if i hurt her—or what if she doesn’t enjoy it, or it’s too painful? i don’t want to see her hurting..’ jake fought the mental war with himself. god knows how long he’s wanted you, how long he’s waited for this moment, but is it fair? you guys watch a few more episodes—the show you were watching? you. of all things—and there’s this scene, where he cums too fast, jake couldn’t help but chuckle, placing his hand on your thigh just to see what you’d do.

you shifted your eyes down for a second, heat creeping up to your face and your heart slowly speeding up. suddenly the moments from the other day flooded your brain, and your legs squeezed together. if he’d stayed a little longer, maybe you would’ve done this already—“y/n.” jake was already looking at you when you looked at him. “come closer,”

you did just that, scooting closer to him—even laying your head on his shoulder. this felt domestic. “no here.” jake pulled you up, sitting you in his lap and made you straddle him. the tv was now background noise as all your attention was solely focused on him. “you trust me right?” jake’s hands land on your waist, gently rubbing small circles with his thumb.

you nod, “you have to use your words.” this was consent, without explaining to you that it was—he was getting your consent. “yeah..” — “come here,” his hand goes to your cheek, pulling you in closer and placing a small kiss on your lips. followed by another and then another one. “tell me if you want to stop okay?” your heart fluttered.

“okay,” assuring him that you wanted to keep going, you don't think you’d stop honestly, his lips were soft and his lap felt like home. when your lips collided again—all your worries and problems left the room. it started slow, slowly turning into something more, his teeth taking your bottom lip between them and sucking on it. the soft moan you let slip out as his did that.

your bodies couldn’t seem to help themselves either, it’s clear they knew what they wanted too. slowly grinding against one another, parted lips and panted breaths as the kisses started getting rougher. “do you want me to be your first?” immediately yes! is what you wanted to say but your voice got caught in your throat. he wouldn’t go through with it if you didn’t answer so you know you had to say something. quickly.

“only if you start slow,” you were scared now, for so long you’d been wanting to lose your virginity and now that the moment has approached you—you’re scared. “i’m kind of nervous.” you admit, jake grins and shakes his head, rubbing his hands down your thighs and then back up to your waist. “that’s normal, but trust me. you’re perfect.” was that a raindrop? a waterfall? were your sweats… sweating? “i got you okay?” jake stood up, with ease, walking over towards your bedroom and shutting the door with his foot.

this would be the first time he’s taken someone’s virginity—and he understood what came with that. the responsibility of the aftermath of it. a soul attached to him, dramatic but it’s true. “relax,” he sat you on the bed, standing between your legs and making you look up, “tonight is about you.” jake locked the door, taking his jacket off and dropping it on the floor. no shirt? abs galore—should you cum now or later?

“i-.. you..” you stutter, jake only coming closer and leaning down to your level, before you knew it his lips were back on yours. his hand was slowly rubbing your torso, going up your shirt, feeling what was going to be his soon. your soft moan slipped as his lips made their way to your neck, careful not to leave any marks where everyone could see—“let’s take this off,” he tugged your shirt.

you lifted your body and let him slip your shirt off, he admired your chest—something he’s always liked. but this wasn't his favorite part. hands roaming each other's body, he let you seem like you had control but he did. he focused on the soft spot on your neck, slipping his fingers down between your legs slowly. “excited?” he chuckled.

“don’t laugh,” you whined, looking down at his hand. “i just.. got turned on easy..” you groaned, plopping down on your back while looking at the ceiling. jake took it upon himself to take your sweats off, tossing them with his jacket on the floor. he spread your legs with ease and kissed you above your panties. “o..oh.” you whispered. tingles flying up your spine.

“just gonna make sure you’re really ready.” he smiled, kissing your waist as he gently tugged down your panties. it was like an instant reflex for you to spread your legs wide—jake was amazed by the sight. it’s prettier than he imagined. “so wet, you’re leaking.” the string of essence from your cunt to your panties proved that before he could even look. it’s too good to be true.

jake placed a kiss on your cunt, shutting his eyes to taste and savor the flavor of you. his tongue swiped along your folds, and immediately, relief hit your back—you had been craving this. his mouth on you and the feeling of it running through your body. quiet hums left your mouth. followed by jake—and his moans. finding pleasure in pleasing you—a giver at its finest.

it didn’t take much for him to wrap his lips around your clit and devour you the way he wanted to. it felt so good—too good, you had to cover your mouth so your family wouldn’t hear you. “fuck you taste so..” he sighed digging his face into you, lapping up your essence and using it as his personal moisture and lip balm. your hips rocked steady—feeling this in your stomach, and the way you felt so close to finishing. it’s like he knew.

he stopped.

“hey!” you looked at him, the devious smile plastered on his lips, his deep chuckle echoing through your room—hitting your walls. “i’m not done yet,” he assured you.. “can let you finish and i haven’t even gotten to the best part.” he climbed between your legs, kissing your lips again, and distracting you from the fact he just edged you. he slipped his pants off without you even noticing, but once your eyes started to wander down he grabbed your chin.

“eyes on me,”

his voice was deep and assertive, and it made you listen. keeping your eyes focused on him. “tell me if you’re sure you want to do this.” — “i am, im ready. i’m swear it.” jake kissed your lips, caressing your cheeks gently before rubbing his tip along your folds. using your essence to wet himself more—“it’ll only hurt for a minute.”

he teased you, distracted you—and kissed you with passion. like he was in love with you— and he did it with so much ease. and you were under his spell, all until you finally felt him. “ow-.” you whimpered, jake kissed you again, resting his forehead on yours. “jake.. it hurts.” you muttered, “i know, i’m sorry, it’s gonna be okay.” your eyes squeezed shut—trying your best to bare the pain.

when he saw you, his heart stung. she’s in pain. “look at me, don’t think too hard.” he whispered, pecking your cheeks gently before you opened your eyes. he maintained eye contact, only using his tip to get you to open a little. “you’re okay, don’t cry.” he wiped the tears that dropped from the side of you face. “you’re doing so good.. it’ll be over in a second. i promise.”

jake’s words were soothing, comforting in a way. you didn’t even realize he was finally inside of you—too distracted by his comforting words—maybe it was love? jake’s hips rocked steadily, moving at a slow and gentle pace to get you used to it. “wait-.” he stopped, your hand on his chest used as a signal. “whenever you’re ready.” the moments passed, you waited for your heart to slow. finally moving your hand and looking up at him with those pretty eyes you have.

jake could get lost in them, “okay go..” you hummed, and he did. instantly started to move again—the pain was bearable and it slowly started to turn into pleasure. your soft and strained moans mixing with his ‘mm’s and subtle, occasional ‘fuck’s that slipped. “you’re huge..” you didn’t get to see it yet, but you felt it—and he wasn’t all the way inside of you yet.

“and you’re so wet, oh my go-..” he moaned, eyes shutting slight just from the sound of your cunt. intoxicating, it’s like a massage he’d been waiting to get from you and only you could do it right. it’s better than he’d imagined, than he dreamed. “holy shit..” he murmured, he was typically the quiet guy in bed, but you—were doing something.

“faster.”

it’s like a switch flipped in his head. eyes suddenly darkening, he might finish too fast. you were fresh, tight and the sound of wetness mixing between your thighs was the sound he needed as a ringtone. jake leaned his body up, kissing you again before he towered over you, head leaning back as he grabbed the back of your legs—holding them in his arms with ease. this sight was undeniably beautiful to you.

his moans were encouraging, you liked it more than you dreamed you would. the feeling was unmatched, and you’ve heard the stories about first times—this was nothing like that. your hands reached to rub his torso, fingers falling through each crease in his abs, down to his v line and the sight of his hips snapping into you like this—turned you on more. you didn’t know it was possible to get even wetter.

“shit baby,” he took one hand, rubbing your clit with it—new fear unlocked. the pleasure that shot through your body—you could probably cum right now. but jake would find it as a fun game, he’d push you to cum more. “you like that, baby?” echoed through your room, his firm hands moving to your waist to bring you closer, push deeper into you. “you feel like heaven.” his head tilted back once more, the sight of his adam’s apple bouncing from the moaning and the deep breaths he slowly started to let out.

panting, and he’d hadn’t even given his all yet. he was trying to save you—trying to give you grace. but god, did he wanna take you there.. he slowed his hip, gesturing for you to sit up. and when you did, he did all the work from there. “you’re holding back, you can moan into the pillow then.” he chuckled, he saw how hard you were biting your lip, the way your throat sunk from the deep grunts and muffled sounds you threaten to let out.

jake flipped you—turning you on your stomach and pulled your hips up towards him. his hand rested on the small of your back and the other on your ass—so plump and juicy. it was screaming his name—he’d been waiting to feel it since he’d gotten back. “fuck..” he mumbled under his breath, helping you get comfortable and relax again. his hips never stopped but they got faster, the skin slapping against the backside of your body. the feeling unimaginable, he wasn’t lying when he told you you’d need that pillow.

your moans were louder now but muffled, nobody would hear these. your eyes were fluttering with every thrust you tried to keep them open. but the way he was doing you in—you succumbed to the pleasure. gripping your sheets and pillow tighter each time. jake watched as your ass bounced back against him, the sounds of your moans and then the sound of your wetness echoing through his ears like a song. he was so entranced with it.

he couldn’t hold back anymore, your walls squeezed around him. feeling the wetness dripping down your thighs and the cold feeling made you clench more. “fuck keep doing that.” jake spoke, voice deep. his brows furrowed in concentration—making sure you felt good while also trying not to embarrass himself with cumming too fast—or inside of you. “that feels so good!” you moaned, more confidence in your voice. jake liked that—“right there,”

he found your spot, the spot. you didn’t even know what it was but it just felt too good every time he hit it. snapping his hind relentlessly into you, his hand went up your back, grabbing the back of your neck and pressing you into the mattress. he was so deep, you took all of him—you were doing so good for him. he was proud of you, proud of your reaction and the moans you let out. you were a different person when you were under him.. legs trembling ever so slightly but jake wasn’t finished with you yet.

he pressed his head against your shoulder, biting the skin gently and leaving kisses there too—his eyes slowly rolled back just from the mere scent of you. “oh my fucking god you feel so good. so tight, so..” he moaned next to your ear. that turned you on more than ever. he trapped your hands behind your back when you reached back to touch him. common mistake—but you weren’t complaining. it felt too good to you, how deep he was. the sweat and heat coming off of each of your skins.

you never wanted this to end.

the night got louder and you prayed nobody could hear this—which they probably couldn’t. your moans were louder, tears of pleasure dripping from your eyes as you said his name so sexily he couldn’t help but go faster. you didn’t know he could go faster but he proved it. “fuck i’m gonna cum, you feel so fucking good y/n.” he reached his arm around your waist, holding your body flush against his.

your moans and pants were synced with every piece of movement you were just closer to reaching that limit you so desperately needed to reach. “me too—oh my god.. please don’t stop!” you dipped your head into the pillow arching your back deeper, feeling it 10x better than before. your eyes rolling back and legs shaking as it finally started to hit you. “f…fuck ja-.” he was holding out, waiting for you to cum so he could—it was gonna be a lot to clean but it was worth it.

“cum for me, come on i know you can do it.” he grinned, proudly, and his thrusts started to get sloppy and drawn out. harder than before, your legs closed up but that only made it feel even better—he felt you squeezing his cock, clenching repeatedly and gasping for air in your pillow. he just listened to it, the sound of your cunt mixing as you came, the creamy substance slipping down your leg and his cock.

if he didn’t pull out now, he’d creampie you—it was too soon for that.. or was it.. he didn’t care either way. “i’m cumming,” he moaned breathlessly—leaking out into you but he slowly released himself. it was hard and loads of it, just dripping from the entrance of your cunt where he laid his cum to rest at. he took a deep breath, as your body fell limp with exhaustion. “felt good?”

you glanced at him, “too good.”

jake got up, walked towards the bathroom to get a towel, and came back to you quickly. he knew you’d probably be sore for the next few days. too. “you should soak in lavender and epson salt tomorrow, to help relieve the soreness. you did so well for me though.” he smiled as he turned you around, and cleaned your cunt. watching as more of his cum leaked out of you each time you clenched around nothing. “i could go another round.” he joked while kissing up your chest and then to your lips.

“thank you, jake.” you smiled, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and looking up at him. “but no more rounds for you,” the both of you shared a laugh, “i’ll go start a shower, wait right here okay?” he stood up once again, making his way to the bathroom. “looking good~.”

you cooed as you stared at his backside, “hey, stop looking at my ass!”

submit a request or tell me how i did ! reblog and like and comment. thank you for reading, mwah!

[jinuaei]

imagine the whole yandere Soundwave thing but we force the visions to go to us spiking him? please? is it bad i really wanna see him get all flustered, and sensitive, breaking for us?

maybe that's how we catch him and we just have to do something to him?

I assume this is a Yandere! Soundwave x Cybertronian! Reader based on the 'spiking him' part!

Warning: Valveplug!!!

It was a slip of the glossa, a small comment from Starscream about Soundwave being able to hear thoughts and project them that caused you to think deeper about your fantasies, if it even were yours.

You think about the times when those visions are always more intense and clearer every time Soundwave is near, or when you’ve started to think about him more and more when you didn’t even have a crush on him originally. But ever since the first time you’ve ever gotten those thoughts, you’ve been thinking non-stop about him, to the point where even you know it’s not healthy. 

But that comment, Starscream’s words about Soundwave having the ability to send his thoughts to you keeps ringing inside your processor. Doubt creeps through about whether those fantasies are yours in the first place, especially with how detailed it is. The final nail in the coffin was you knowing what he looks like underneath his visor and mask, and you know it is him as your thoughts — Was it even yours to begin with? — Wants you to believe that it is.

So you come up with a plan, to either catch him, or deem yourself as a pervert. 

The next time you meet Soundwave is during a meeting, although you did not commence your plan until near the end of it where Megatron and Starscream are doing their sass match every meeting. You stare at Soundwave, face blank and focused on his body language. 

Of course, Soundwave cannot help but stare back, how can he not? It’s you! With your beautiful optics and amazing frame, it’s impossible not to look at you! Maybe he should listen in on you to see what you were thinking—

Soundwave’s frame freezes as an image of him on his back rolls through, his valve taking your spike to the hilt.  It was subtle, but enough to confirm your theory of him being the actual pervert that has been actively tormenting you with his fantasies. Of course, you would have your revenge.

Soundwave looks at you with bewilderment behind his mask and he sees your expression change into realization. That’s when he realizes he messed up badly, and he can’t leave the room until his boss and co-worker are done with their hissy fits. Your optics darken in delight and you prepare to torment him until the meeting is over.

The image comes back full charge as he is now against the wall getting railed by you. A small whimper tries to come out from his intake but he swallows it down successfully. This torment goes on far longer than he wanted — that’s a lie, he quite enjoys the fact that you would use him like that, like a toy just for your pleasure. He could hear it, even feel it as your spike hits his ceiling node over and over and over. Deliciously sloppy.

Soundwave feels himself grow faint with pleasure, and the subtle dripping of his lubricant is enough to snap him out of his pleasured haze. He can feel it ooze out of the cracks in his panels and on to the seat, he hopes nobody would see it and know it was him.

The longer the meeting goes, the more he feels his overload rises. He feels ashamed at the fact that he’s going to overload untouched and just by your fantasies, he thinks of it as unfair but also so arousing at the same time. Soundwave tries to fight back by steering the visions in another direction but he folds so quickly it;’s almost pathetic.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, Starscream and Megatron are done with their verbal match so Soundwave rushes out as soon as the meeting is over, but you are not satisfied. You follow behind him of course and you see his legs shake with every step, and you swear you can also see something glisten between it. His shaky pedes carry him to his destination — his own private quarters. Perfect.

You sneak in behind him before the doors of his berthroom closes, unnoticed since he is too busy rubbing his anterior node. Soundwave flops on his berth, faceplate first, back arched, and aft raised. His servos move lower to poke his valve, drenched in lubricant, he whispers your designation with a whine as his digits finally slipped inside.

“So it’s you…” you said, amused.

Your voice startles him, twisting his frame to look at you, his EM field explodes with shame. He tries to sit up properly but you quickly press down on his pelvis and he lets you. He knew you would be angry, he did, but he cannot deny the shiver of delight when you narrowed your optics at him.

“Was it you who’s been sending those…visions?”

He pauses for a moment, trying to gauge your reaction, “...Affirmative,” and he concludes that he likes it when your glare turns into a smirk.

“Soundy~” he whimpers as his designation is called out, “Did you really expect me not to know?”

He shook his head in denial, pelvis twitching when your servos started to roam his frame.

“Negative. Soundwave: Expected to get caught.”

“Did you now? Did you have some kind of plan when you did?”

Soundwaves in-vent heavily when your servos catch his anterior node, rubbing it gently. He cannot believe what is happening, to think that his fantasies are becoming true right in front of his optics, it feels like a dream, but it’s not, it's real!

“Soundy?”

“A-affirmative.”

He did have a plan. He was going to explain to you why he has been doing it, how much he loves you and what his plan was going forward. What he didn’t account for was you catching him before he was ready to enact his plan, to think that you knew that he was the one that didn’t but he didn’t know that you knew even when he has been monitoring you so closely he knows your whole schedule and everything. To think that you deceived him like a true Decepticon and caught him red handed but…

“This is better.”

The mask and visor that covers his faceplate retracts to show you what he currently feels, faceplate flushed, optics wide open, staring at you in awe and reverence, intake venting hot air which you can feel on your hot frame. His own frame isn’t doing any better, he himself shaking and overheating from your touch. 

You only smile in return as you position yourself in between his legs, your own array on display. He recalls the vision from earlier and he gulps down the coolant that threatens to escape his intake.

“Mmmmhh… you do know you’re projecting those perverted thoughts of yours again, don’t you, Soundy?”

“Apologieeeess–ah!”

He was not prepared for you to suddenly spike him, causing his helm to look down at where you are both connected. The moan that comes out from his intake was so lewd and so debauched that you pulled him closer to you, spike now buried deep inside him.

“And so this is your punishment,” you tilt your helm innocently as if you are not deep inside him, “do you like it?”

“Love it, love it so muhh—!”

You snap your hips once, twice, and it was enough to silence Soundwave. Pleasure spread across his frame and he almost cried with how good you felt, and this time, it’s real.

“You–” Another thrust of your hips causes him to grip your arms for dear life, “have been so naughty, but I can’t deny you when you’re like this.”

You bend down to his audial receptors to whisper the next part, “Which is why I’ll be fragging you the same way the fantasy me has been. What do you say about that, hm?”

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you…!”

“So polite…”

With that, you thrust into him with all your might, him whimpering at how rough you’re handling him. It would be a lie to say you weren’t angry at his deception, especially when you felt so embarrassed every time you’ve been ‘thinking’ about him. So you let out all that pent up anger by railing him hard and rough until you feel like forgiving him.

For now, you’ll enjoy his bare fucked out face and his sweet, tight valve. Maybe you’ll also grace him by playing his spike.