#then i’m going to come out and read it again

[bibliomatcha]

𝐁𝐎𝐁𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐏 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 𖹭.ᐟ

synopsis: reader is a host for a youtube interview show where the premise is a fake date with idols in a boba tea shop. (inspired by chicken shop date)

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐍 the opportunity to interview south korea’s most popular and attractive boyband, the saja boys!

a week before the interview, you did extensive research on the saturated boyband to avoid asking the same repetitive, and borderline shady, questions that most interviewers asked celebrities.

well, you tried to, anyway.

“what the hell…?” you rubbed your temple as you sat slouched and annoyed in front of your computer. the blue light not doing any favors for your tired, burning eyes.

surprisingly, any backgroud information about the saja boys’ past or even uprising is either vague or entirely nonexistent. it’s as if the boys didn’t even exist before their debut, like they just spawned out of thin air one day.

for three days, you pulled all-nighter after all-nighter trying to find reliable sources about each member’s past, only to find headcanons made by pride, shipping wars, and nasty rumors made up by anti-stans.

you let out a defeated groan.

at this point, i’m beginning to question if they’re industry plants…

you looked at your notebook on the side of your desk. what was supposed to be a page or two of good questions to ask the saja boys was instead filled with: where the fuck did ya’ll come from? are ya’ll aware you’re being shipped with each other? know anything about industry plants?, etc.

yup. a clear cry for help.

the only thing you really had going for you were questions about their music and lyricism, specifically on why all of their songs are about consumption.

there’ve been many theories by pride on why all of their songs involved consuming, that the lyrics could be hinting at something deeper. some fans even noted that if you just read the lyrics of each saja boy song without listening to the music, the tone changes from bubblegum to…ominous.

of course, there’s the other half of the pride that chalks it all up to the boys just being really into cunnilingus. so there’s that.

𖹭

meeting the saja boys for the first time was…an experience.

before you could even introduce yourself, mystery was in your face, barking at you like he was a stray dog whose tail you just stepped on. he got snatched back so fast by jinu, their leader.

“we’re so sorry!" he bent over 90 degrees in apology, forcing mystery to do the same. you could tell jinu had a vice grip on the back of mystery’s neck by the way his veins were protruding on his hand.

before you could recover from the shock, romance was then in your face, cooing at how pretty you were.

“never met a girl as pretty as you. what’s your name, angel?”

“i-"

once again, jinu snatched romance by the neck and gripped his head down in apology just like mystery before him.

“please excuse him!"

“ow! watch the hair!"

abby looked like he was about to act a fool, too, but froze when he caught sight of jinu side-eyeing him with a look that threatened a brutal murder.

𖹭

the interview itself was even more chaotic and it wasn’t entirely because of the saja boys.

your interviewing style wasn’t exactly conventional. celebrities are often treated like spectacles or descended deities by hosts’, but you ran your show by treating guests like old friends on a unserious date. in addition, you refused to invite or accept requests of celebs you didn’t like onto your show. you’ve even been cancelled by parasocial fans for deleting your interviews with celebs who were later exposed for being either bigots or criminals.

jinu was a gentlemen throughout the entire interview. during the bands introduction, he thanked you sincerely for having them on your show. he offered his full, undivided attention to you and praised you on how good your questions were. a skill you felt very prideful about.

you did notice something odd, however.

"as the composer and co-producer of the group, i'm curious about when your journey with music began? would you mind sharing, jinu?"

that's when you noticed it.

despite it being so subtle that you could miss it with a blink. you saw how his face twitched. how his eyes darkened as they glazed over for just a second. it may have been a trick of the light, but in that second, you swore you saw his eyes glow. the air of the room shifted, too.

it didn't help that the other boys suddenly fell quiet. it felt like you were being were being given a silent warning to not ask the wrong thing. but what was the wrong thing to ask?

you attempted to correct your mistake.

"i apologize if it's a sensitive topic, we'll cut this ou-"

"no." jinu snapped from his daze and swiftly switched back into his idol persona. "it's okay, i don't mind answering." he smiled, but it hardly reached his eyes.

the air in the room felt lighter again, though.

many pressing questions swirled in your mind, and your curiousty only grew when jinu's answer felt so vague and fabricated.

seriously, are these guys industry plants?

𖹭

romance was staring at you the entire time as if you were a painting in the louvre. you noticed that whenever you asked him question, he took a long sip of his milk tea while making prolonged eye contact. his aim was obviously to fluster you, so you decided to match his energy.

“you know, romance, out of all members, you’re the one i did the most research on?”

“oh?" he raised a brow, tilting his head on his palm. "you find me that interesting?"

“of course, it’s important to know things about my future husband.”

romance felt his cold heart take a screenshot. hosts' were usually flustered just by his presence alone, but none were ever so bold to flirt back. he turned his head to the side, covering his face with the back of his hand.

abby whistled. “damn, that was smooth."

𖹭

as usual during interviews, baby was polite and acting cute, but you noticed that there was an air of disinterest emitting from him. wanting to change that, you presented him with a twelve pack of the spiciest hot sauce in south korea and told him that if he could drink a whole boba tea version of the sauce in five minutes, he could keep the pack.

immediately, his demeanor switched from cute to daredevil.

you watched in equal horror and awe as he chugged the hellish boba down in a single minute. the boys cheered for him, minus jinu, who just looked done with everything.

afterwards, baby became engaged in the interview, even asking you questions about yourself and your show, all of which you happily answered.

𖹭

you don't know how it happened, but somehow, as you were interviewing the muscle of the group...you winded up sitting on abby's back as he did twenty sets of pushups while the rest of the boys were trying to break him as a challenge.

out all the boys, romance was oddly putting in the most effort to make abby fail.

if someone had told you that becoming a host would lead you to sitting on a handsome rich mans back, you would've laughed in their face. but, atlast, here you are doing just that.

"you know," abby grunted. "i've never held a girl like this before."

"are you saying i'm special?" you joked.

you shifted a bit when abby chuckled. you quickly adjusted yourself to avoid a nasty fall.

"don't worry, i won't drop you."

"good," you sat up straight. "this is the greatest moment of my whole career. i don't want it to be ruined."

you could've sworn you heard romance mutter something under his breath, but chose to ignore it.

as much fun as you were having though, you definitely felt anxiety building up.

should i keep this in the video? my sasaeng senses are tingling like crazy.

𖹭

you had a slight beef with mystery that you couldn’t shake off since your first interaction. when he was in the middle of answering your question, you felt the sudden urge to hiss at him for revenge...so you did. mystery, as well as the other boys, fell silent as he stared at you with his mouth agape.

“yea, how do you like it?" you smirked, starring him down with a challenging look in your eyes.

jinu side-eyed mystery with tight lips. “mystery, don-"

“GRRR!!!"

the last few minutes of the interview was you and mystery trying to assert dominance on the other with hisses, growls, barking, and evening roaring. this continued for awhile with most of it edited out of the video.

“uh, should we stop this.” abby cringed.

“nah, i wanna see who wins.” baby leaned forward on the table, drinking the last of his boba.

romance held a hand to his heart. “even when she’s growling, she’s angelic."

fuck my life. jinu facepalmed.

thank you for reading, ya'll ₍₍⚞(˶˃ ꒳ ˂˶)⚟⁾⁾ it's been so much fun FINALLY writing for these dorks !! it feels so good to be a part of a new fandom with rich content aaaa !!!

[yasministration]

disgustingly cute - harry potter

wolfstar!daughter au summary: sometimes, sirius hates that you're dating his best friend's son, but in moments like these, he just cannot deny that you are both so disgustingly cute together. wc: 0.7k

When Sirius slumps onto the couch facing you and Harry, he has to do a double take. A grin tugs at his lips when he takes notice of the view in front of him. At first glance, it would look like you and Harry were being disgustingly cute, as per usual. But now Sirius can see from the way Harry’s hand slowly caresses your back, and the way he struggles to turn over the page in the newspaper he’s reading, that you’re very much asleep.

You’re sat on the couch next to your boyfriend, but your legs are placed over his lap, torso leaning on his chest and head laying on his shoulder. Sirius can only imagine how numb Harry’s arm has gone. “You alright, Harry?”

Your boyfriend’s head snaps up at the call of his name, and he nods to your dad, asking “Yeah, you?”

“I’m just fine. Do you want me to take her off you?”

Harry furrows his eyebrows, glancing down at you. He shakes his head as though your dad has asked a ridiculous question. “No, I like her here.” Sirius smiles fondly, tilting his head to the side. Harry lays the newspaper on your legs, flicking over to the next page before lifting it up closer to his face again.

“Did you hear about the Lestrange trials happening in the ministry?”

Sirius ignores Harry’s question, sinking back into the couch. “Has your arm not gone numb yet?” Harry’s face flushes darkly, and he shrugs, the movement small so he doesn’t stir you. He glances down at you, lips tugging upwards into a smile, seeing the way your hand clutches his jumper in your sleep.

“Yeah, but I don’t mind.” Harry’s words are quiet, but Sirius stands up nonetheless, deciding it’s probably best to move you from your boyfriend’s hold. He’s been in his position before, with you falling asleep on his lap, and he knows how difficult it can be to part from your warm skin, no matter how tired his limbs go.

But just as Sirius approaches the pair of you, the door to the backyard squeaks as it slides open, and Lily Potter pops her head into the living room. She stays silent for a short moment, observing the scene, before finally saying “Harry, we’ve got dinner with the Longbottoms soon, remember?”

Harry doesn’t remember. But dinner with the Longbottoms means that he has to part with you. He smiles at your father, who chuckles as he comes closer to you. His hand slides under your legs, the second arm curling around your back.

“Tip her in my direction.” He tells Harry, who straightens up, pushing you directly into your dad’s arms. Sirius lifts you up with so much ease that Harry is almost jealous, and he places you on the other end of the couch, where you immediately curl into a pillow. Harry stretches his arm, grimacing at the feeling of pins and needles as the blood flows back into the limb. He crawls over to where you lay on the couch, brushes your hair out of your face, and places a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“See you later.” Harry tells Sirius, who waves him away, before following his mum out of the garden door. Lily lingers in the doorway even after Harry has disappeared, a small smile on her face. When she lifts her gaze from you to Sirius, it turns into a full blown grin. Sirius rolls his eyes, but the matching smile on his face as he crosses his arms tells Lily he’s just as happy about their kids dating.

Just as Lily pushes herself off the door frame, Remus walks in, clad in a warm sweater. He rubs at his eyes, waking up from a nap of his own, and when he reaches Sirius, he wraps his arms around his husband’s waist. “You just missed the most adorable moment.” Sirius whispers, and Remus lifts his eyes up to meet Lily’s. When he sees the look on her face, he jokingly rolls his eyes, saying “Let me guess. Does it have to do with a certain green eyed boy?”

taglist: @c0ldstvfh, @dlljdhsh, @thenasoneshots, @bxuzi, @rory-cakes, @5sospenguinqueen, @bluebvrriee, @aouoo, @fandomhoe101, @sharkers00, @blablablacookie, @ravisinghs-wife, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe, @hiireadstuff, @treefairy-28, @superlegend216, @kitkatkl, @juliet-017, @fl0weryannie, @tiaajosephin, @dream-alittlebiggerdarling, @dearlizzies, @matcha-kitty13, @thenasoneshots, @slytherin-princess-x, @bxuzi, @rory-cakes, @dlljdhsh, @girlontheblock, @5sospenguinqueen, @bluebvrriee, @aouoo, @spider–girl, @fandomhoe101, @user010380, @simp-for-fiction, @selenewowww, @paytonluvxx, @sharkers00

[rotapathetic]

͏͏͏✧ ྅ ˚ . ᯇ * TWITCH STREAMER!RAFE IS LIVE ㅤ⁝ㅤ opening p.o. mail ۫ : .

❛i get why you hid her i would too❜ : bold text is stream chat! 💬

rafe cut the tape of the box, glancing at the chat. “my p.o. box is linked in discord i think, but mods, could you link it and pin it? thanks.” he looked down when he finally got the box open.

“alright, first one of the day. i’ll name this stream p.o. mail then change it later. there is a lot, and i’m opening them all because i’ve been meaning to get to it, so buckle in i guess.”

user pretty box user is it cool if i just send a letter? i don’t have any items to send right now user open mine next!!

“you don’t even have to send anything, but if you do, it most definitely doesn’t have to be an item. i love letters and i appreciate them, that’s totally fine. . and let me know which box is yours when you see it,” he addressed both chats.

rafe pulled out the first thing inside which was a little packaging. he opened it, pulling out a couple of keychains. some of them had legos attached or a little trinket, or just pretty stones. “woah, this is cool. you know your stuff, you know i like legos. this will make me use keychains more, thank you. is it okay if i give the others to someone? she’ll love them.”

user that’s my box! yes, i made the other ones for her lol

rafe read the chat, raising a brow. “oh, really? that’s so nice. yeah, she’ll go crazy. i’ll set them aside for her.”

rafe clipped one of the chains onto his pants, putting the rest away. he reached back into the box, pulling out a funko pop and a blind box. rafe chuckled when he noticed the difference. “did you make a his and hers box? one thing for me, the other for her?”

user at first i was mainly putting in things for her 😭 then i remembered i should put stuff you like too user that’s such a cute idea user she’ll love that

“that’s insanely kind you thought of her. she’ll really appreciate it.” rafe grabbed the last thing which was a note. he read it aloud, “‘hi, rafe. i just wanted to give you some things in return for giving me a new favorite streamer lol. i watched one vod a month ago and have since watched like all of your streams. you’re pretty funny i guess. there’s stuff for both of you guys in here so hope you like them,’ and then she drew a smiley face,” rafe finished the letter.

“don’t try to humble me about being funny, you know i am. but thanks so much. i keep all of these letters just so you guys know. i don’t throw them out or anything.”

user sweeettt user there he goes trying to be funny again

rafe put the items back inside the box, separating the letter, and put it to the side. “alright, next box. this is from. .” rafe tilted the box to read the name, “a crochet business. oh, that’s cool, my girlfriend crochets,” he opened it, pulling out a note. he read it aloud, “‘big fan of your streams! but i heard your girlfriend likes crochet. . so i made some things for her. hopefully she likes them!,’” rafe read.

“and this is her business,” rafe held up the box where there was a qr code and the name of their shop.

user wait this is all for her awhh

“she will really like this. i’ll let her open it.” rafe stood and walked off camera to roll over another gaming chair and put it next to his.

user wait a minute. . user awh she has her own chair

“pretty girl. .” rafe called out, “could you come here?” rafe looked to the doorway, waiting for you. when you appeared, slightly nervous, rafe held out a hand. “there’s something for you.”

you made your way to him, accepting his hand, then placing both on his shoulders, glancing over them to see what he held. “what is it?”

“sit down, you have to open them.” rafe looked over his shoulder to you. so you did, sitting in the chair he pulled over. the chair he bought when you told him you felt comfortable to be on camera now. the chair he had customized, despite your reluctance.

you sat, putting your hands in your lap, avoiding looking into the camera. that’s probably weird to do.

user dude finally user reveal!!! user wait chat don’t make a big deal or she’ll never come back user i get why you hid her i would too user prettyyy user hi!!

rafe handed you the box, giving all of his attention to you instead of the viewers. he wanted to make sure you felt as comfortable as possible and not like thousands of people were watching you.

“opening my p.o. mail and someone sent you some crochet items. want to see the note?” your eyes widened, taking in the box. “really? yeah, can i see?” you reached for the note, reading it. your shy disposition faltered slightly at seeing something cute, and it was made for you. you slightly pouted as you read, looking up to rafe. “no way. rafe, this is so sweet.”

rafe bit a smile, nodding. “it is. i said you would like it.”

you looked to the monitor that displayed the chat, trying to catch all of the chats, but they were moving pretty quickly.

user what’s your @ ?? user open it!! user i think the owner is in the chat user yeah, she’s freaking out

“um. . to whoever sent this, thank you. i will for sure check you out. i know i’ll love this,” you looked back down to the package, opening it. inside was one balaclava, a plushie, headphone covers, and a keychain.

you were in awe as you pulled out each item, showing them to the camera. “i have to wear this balaclava, it’s so cute. you know my color palette,” you put it on, looking to rafe. “cute, right?”

he couldn’t hold back his smile now, pulling out his phone to take a picture. “i have to capture this. baby’s first stream and mail.”

user i’m sooo happy for you guys love that really user is it okay if i make fan art of you??

rafe read the chat, grabbing another package, this one smaller than the first two. “if you could draw me, that’d be dope, yeah.” rafe opened it, pulling out two small containers.

user not you! sorry, her

rafe was still frowning at the items, unsure what they were as you read the chat for him. “me?” you pointed a finger to your chest. “that would be awesome, yes it’s okay. you don’t have to!”

rafe was still unaware of the chat, scrunching a brow, and tilting the item up. “are these nails? ohhh, they’re nails.” rafe showed the little containers to you. you gasped, grabbing them. “oh my gosh, these are so cute! i love them,” you examined them both, both sets nail sets you would wear. how did someone know you would like these?

rafe looked to the monitor. “do you guys want me to just leave the stream?” he partially joked, mostly serious.

user yes! user i mean we weren’t going to say it

you shook your head, “no, this is your thing. i’m sure there is stuff for you, of course.” you showed the nails to the camera. “guys, look at how adorable. is your business name somewhere?”

you turned the package around, spotting the name. “pretty and pressed, that’s so cute. i really like these, thank you so much. okay, rafe’s turn. no more me.” you even rolled your chair back a little, putting the attention on him.

rafe rose a brow, pulling your chair back by the armrest, closer to him this time. “right. . on to the next. .” he grabbed a bigger box with wording on the top. “e.l.f.? it’s not christmas time?”

your head swiveled to look at the box. “no, it’s not. .” rafe shrugged, showing the box to you. “yeah, e.l.f. you know them?”

user no way!! user hello? 😭 user not the christmas elf rafe!

“rafe, this is a makeup brand. that can’t be right. .” you didn’t want to accept another gift on a stream that isn’t even yours! “they have products men can use, skincare stuff. i’m sure that’s for you.” you tried to rationalize.

rafe opened the lid, grabbing the note that lied on top. he read aloud, “‘we heard there was a mystery girl that your chat has been going crazy over! no pressure, just let her know we have some items we think she’d love! love, the e.l.f. team,’” rafe read.

user oh she’s getting pr!!

“baby, this is for you! that’s so cool. this is cool, right? i still don’t know who they are.” rafe tried handing the box to you. instead, you sat still, staring it. “there’s stuff you can use in there, right?” you asked.

rafe looked into the box, shaking his head. “no, this looks like makeup.” he tried handing it over again.

you stammered. “but rafe. . this is really cool, yes, and i’m grateful, but where’s your mail? why do i have so much?”

rafe smiled at your upset face. “because they thought exactly what i did when i first saw you. wanted to buy you things before i even talked to you.”

[carnalcrows]

SUB! MINSU HEADCANNONS

pairing: minsu x top male reader (LOOK AT HIS FACEE!! i wanna squish him <33)

Minsu’s quiet—painfully shy, even outside the bedroom. He always seems like he’s trying to make himself smaller, like if he breathes too loudly, you’ll look at him and realize you could do better. You hate that he thinks that. You’ve told him a hundred times how much you adore him, and still—his cheeks burn every time you compliment him. Every praise gets stored away in some sacred corner of his mind, like he's starving for it.

In bed, he’s even quieter. Sometimes you don’t even realize how much he’s trembling until you touch him. His voice is soft, almost inaudible, like he’s scared he’ll say something wrong. But when he does speak? “Can I—um. Can I kiss you?” “Did I… d-do good?” You always stop and cup his cheek and say, “You did perfect, sweetheart.” And the way his eyes flutter shut from just those words? Devastating.

He’s got a big dick, yeah. And you make it so much worse for him by teasing him about it in that low, smug voice that always gets him flushed. “Shame,” you say, eyes dragging down his chest. “All this, and no idea what to do with it. Guess I’ll just have to keep teaching you.” He goes red instantly, buries his face in your shoulder, tries to hide—but he can’t hide the way his hips twitch. He likes it when you talk down to him, even if it flusters him.

He’s not the type to ask for things outright. He just gets soft and clingy. You’ll find him hovering at the edge of the couch while you’re reading, fingers twitching at his sides like he wants to reach out but doesn’t know how. When you finally ask, “You need something, baby?” he just nods, sheepishly. It could be a kiss. It could be your cock down his throat. He’ll take whatever you give.

Sir kink is quiet but deep-rooted. He whispers it sometimes without meaning to, usually when you’re being especially firm with him—tugging his hips into place, pushing him down against the mattress, telling him to be still. “Yes, sir,” he breathes, lips parted, and when he realizes he said it out loud, he gets all flustered and apologizes like it’s a crime. You just smile and say, “That’s right. Say it again.”

He lives for physical closeness during sex. Doesn’t matter how he’s positioned—he needs to be able to see you, hold you, bury his face against your skin. You once tried fucking him from behind without holding his hand, and afterward he quietly admitted, “I… I missed you.” Now you make sure to always wrap an arm around his waist or lace your fingers with his. He calms instantly with that grounding touch.

Praise is everything. He didn’t grow up hearing it, so now he drinks it in like water. He can be sobbing, shaking, overwhelmed—and the moment you murmur good boy, he chokes on a moan and nods, like that one phrase makes it all okay. “You’re doing so good, baby.” “You’re taking me so well.” “I’m so proud of you.” He melts under it. It rewires his entire nervous system. He needs it to come.

He doesn’t ask to be tied up. But the one time you gently pulled his arms behind his back and bound his wrists with your belt, he went still for a long, trembling breath—and then moaned so softly you almost missed it. Something about the helplessness, the surrender of it, makes his brain go quiet. He gets so still. So obedient. Like he’s giving you his whole self without needing to speak.

Hair pulling? He’s done for. You learn this by accident—fist tangled in his hair during a rough kiss, and he whimpers into your mouth, hips bucking. When you do it while fucking him, making him look at you even when he’s falling apart? He cries. Literally. Pretty, glassy-eyed tears that you kiss away as you keep telling him how perfect he is.

Despite how shy he is, he’s obsessed with sucking you off. It’s quiet, reverent—he doesn’t even need you hard. Just likes the weight of you in his mouth. The act of worship. You’ll be half-asleep and suddenly feel his breath against your thigh, gentle fingers easing your waistband down. No words. Just a soft sigh as he curls up around your cock like it calms him.

He loves being used. Not in a rough, raunchy way—more like an offering. He wants to make you feel better. Wants to be your comfort. You come home tense, and he’s already stripped and kneeling on the bed, arms folded behind him like he’s not even allowed to touch unless you say so. “You can take it out on me, sir,” he whispers, voice barely audible. “I’ll be good.”

The first time you whispered I wanna get you pregnant while deep inside him, he gasped so loud you thought you hurt him. But then he nodded—frantic, teary-eyed—babbling, “Please, wanna try, wanna feel full.” He knows it’s impossible. Still likes to pretend. Still wants to be bred like he’s yours forever.

And when it’s over—aftercare is sacred. You clean him gently, kiss his forehead, cradle him like he’s breakable. “Don’t go yet,” he whispers, scared you’ll leave too soon. If you try to get up, even just to get water, he’ll look so lost that your chest aches. He needs you to stay. Needs you.

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time, and I take genuine effort to do them.

Taglist: @belovedengie @jrxkar @yippee-yippee8 @faggotboulevard @bleedingbl0ssom @green-turtle3 @mazettns @laynnetteii1 (comment to be added)

[sinofwriting]

Aren't Girls The Worse - Max Verstappen

Words: 839 Summary: Max and her welcome their second daughter and Jos can’t help but talk to the media about it. Note(s): Not important or mentioned but does take place in 2023.

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“Don’t turn on your phone.” The shortness of his words make her eyebrows raise, not even aware it was off, but the clenching of his jaw and his hands balled into fist have her stopping the snapping words she wants to let out.

“Okay.” Her quiet response has Max’s jaw unclenching and he’s by her side in a blink, brushing a kiss to her lips, and brushing a kiss over the forehead of their eight-day-old daughter, Sienna. “Is everything okay?”

He easily reads the hidden question, his eyes just like hers drifting over to where their almost two-year-old daughter is snacking and coloring. He gives a small shake of his head, voice lowering. “Jos, he made a comment to the media.”

He watches her face carefully and normally where anger would well up there’s only sadness and he rubs at her back. “I know, I’m going to handle it.”

“I don’t want him here.” Her voice is quiet, barely a whisper, and his hand stills. “I don’t care that he's only been here once in three years, I don’t want him here, I don't want him around the girls, me, or you.” She takes her eyes off their toddler, looking her husband in the eyes. “Call Christian and tell him Jos is exempt from Red Bull or I will.”

He swallows thickly, eyes stinging because she doesn’t even know what he’s said, doesn’t need to know, and she’s pulling out all the stops. “Done.” His voice is a little hoarse. “I need to attend a meeting, Gemma is upset, but it has to be done.”

She nods, “Of course.”

“If you need to get up, you yell for me or send Alina to get me.”

She gives him an unamused look. “I can get up by myself.”

“You're shuffling to walk and in pain still.” Max counters and he’s bending again to press a kiss to her lips and walking away to quickly talk to Alina, accepting a hug and slobbery kiss to the cheek from her before disappearing down the hallway.

He’s gone for thirty minutes and when he comes back, he’s more relaxed, a bit of tension in his shoulders that she knows he’ll work out with Brad tomorrow.

“Banned from all races.” He murmurs when he takes Sienna from her before helping her up. “Red Bull, well me, was the only thing that was saving him.”

She gives a small nod and they both drop the subject until after both the kids are asleep.

She doesn’t even have to ask what Jos said, Max silently passes her his phone, the video, a fucking video already loaded for her to press play. Her fingers don’t hesitate and instantly Jos’ voice fills her ears.

“Two under two and not one a boy. It’s a disappointment and it’s all her fault. She doesn’t want to give Max sons, see his legacy live on. Max will wake up any day and find a much better girl who can give him the son he needs.”

The words make her jaw twitch, fingers curling a bit more around the phone.

“Has he tried calling?”

Max gives a small shrug of his shoulders. “Not since I yelled at him after seeing the video for the first time. He didn’t get a word in.”

“Good.” She looks away from Max’s phone, setting it on the bed and cupping her husband’s face in her hands. “How are you doing?”

He leans into the touch, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m exhausted, angry, but happy. We all knew something would eventually happen, I think I’m just grateful it was during break.”

Her thumbs run gently under his eyes. “You meeting with Brad tomorrow?”

His eyes flutter open. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

She shakes her head. “I’ll message Pascale and Charles. She was planning on stopping by tomorrow anyway to drop off more food and help out. Let us get a nap in.”

Max gives a small nod. “Okay, want me to text her?”

“Please? And let her know I’ve got my phone off. I don’t want to deal with it yet.”

“Of course.”

His eyes close again, the exhaustion from a newborn and the disaster that had struck is clear on his face and she presses their lips together in a soft, gentle kiss.

“Let’s get some sleep, yeah? Before Sienna wakes up to get feed.”

“It’s so early.” He complains, but he’s already kicking off his slippers, hands gently running over her waist, a featherlight touch, before he’s stepping away to push off his sweatpants.

He continues with featherlight touches as he helps her get dressed and then into bed. Their fingers tangle together once Max settles himself under the covers, his phone lighting up the room as he quickly types, before he sets it on the nightstand.

“Don’t even think about getting up to feed her.” He murmurs, sleep already filling his voice as he squeezes her hand.

“I won’t.” She promises, squeezing his hand back, eyes already closed and ready for sleep.

[mandoalorian]

lessons in love

──── ୨୧ ────

lesson one: kissing

pairing: congressman!bucky barnes x f!reader

synopsis: after thinking you've met the man of your dreams, you're ready to take things to the next level. one problem: you've never even kissed a guy before. so, you knock on your best friend's door with a proposition, and ask him to teach you everything there is to know about sex. no strings, no feelings, just lessons. but the closer he gets, the harder it is to pretend it's only practice.

rating/warnings: 18+ explicit content ahead, minors do not interact! ⚠️ male masturbation, making out, unspoken feelings, pining, a smidge of angst, bucky has a fear of rejection/not being good enough, virgin!reader, experienced!bucky, reader drinks alcohol, mentions of politics, reader is dating a jerk and doesn't know it.

word count: 8.0k

ෆ series masterlist | next part

You stepped out of your apartment at the exact moment Bucky Barnes unlocked his own across the hall.

It wasn’t the first time your mornings had lined up like this. He knew it wasn’t coincidence, not really. He’d long since memorised the sounds you made while getting ready—the soft shuffle of your feet, the hum of a hairdryer, the clink of a mug meeting the counter. Some mornings, he stood by his door with his hand on the knob, pretending to fumble with keys just to run into you like this.

And there you were. Hoodie three sizes too big, hair still damp, yawning into your sleeve. His favourite version of you.

“Morning, doll,” he said casually, holding up your mail like a prize. “The latest threat to your bank account has arrived.”

You blinked, slow and groggy, then narrowed your eyes when you saw the Bloomingdale’s logo on the catalogue. “Bucky, did you read my mail again?”

He gasped, hand to his chest. “I would never.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I was protecting your financial well-being,” he insisted, voice going mock-serious. “You nearly cried over that suede coat last month. I’m acting in your best interest.”

“You’re acting like a nosy neighbour, again,” you muttered, taking the mail from his hand.

He let you, though he didn’t quite let go right away.

And you didn’t notice. Or maybe you just didn’t think twice about it.

You never did.

He watched you leaf through the envelope lazily, eyes soft with sleep and trust. The kind of trust he still didn’t think he deserved. But you gave it to him anyway—effortlessly. Like handing him your heartbeat.

“Come on,” you said, already walking toward the stairs. “Coffee?”

“Obviously,” he replied, falling into step beside you.

He didn’t have to ask where you were going. He never did. You always went to the same quaint little café on Saturday mornings, always shared the same slice of raspberry coconut loaf, always sat at the table by the window with the wobbly leg. And Bucky loved a routine, even if he never said it out loud.

Especially one that involved you.

The building creaked softly as you descended together, your steps a little too light, his a little too heavy. When the sun touched your skin through the glass entryway, you tilted your face toward it and smiled.

That smile—God, that smile.

You didn’t know what it did to him. How it made something ancient and restless inside him go perfectly still.

You pushed through the front door and into the street, the early morning light gold and sleepy. A dog barked somewhere. A bike rolled past. You reached for his arm without warning, slipping your hand into the crook of his metal elbow like it belonged there.

Like you belonged there.

He swore his breath caught for a second.

It was always like that. You touched him so freely—so fearlessly. You held his metal hand when you were tipsy, tugged on the plates when you needed his attention, rested your cheek against the cool surface like it was nothing. Like the arm hadn’t killed people. Like it hadn’t nearly killed him.

And every time, it undid him a little more.

“God, I’m starving,” you groaned, leaning into him. “Do you think they still have that raspberry loaf?”

“I think you single-handedly keep them in business with how often you order that thing.”

“It’s so good, Buck. You can’t deny it.”

“I wouldn’t know, every time I order a slice to try, you end up stealing it from my plate.” Bucky smirked.

You gasped, scandalised. “I share with you.”

“You leave me crumbs. Literal crumbs.”

You bumped your hip into his as you walked.  “I’m just a girl. I need sugar.”

You’re sweet enough already, he wanted to say. But instead, he didn’t answer. Just smiled, the tight kind, the kind he had to control.

You didn’t notice the way his eyes lingered on you—on the light catching in your eyes, on the way your hoodie slipped off one shoulder, revealing just enough skin to make Bucky’s heart yearn. You didn’t see the quiet hunger behind his eyes, the ache that lived just under the surface.

He wanted to memorise everything. The sound of your laugh, the curve of your knuckles, the way you pointed your toe out when you walked. Every piece of you. Etched into memory.

But you were his friend. Just his friend.

And he could live with that.

Because if friendship was the only way he got to keep you close, he’d take it. Even if it hollowed him out a little more every time you smiled at him like he was just Bucky Barnes, your neighbour. Your best friend.

Not the man who watched you like you hung galaxies from your fingertips.

Not the man who would burn the world down just to keep you safe.

You tightened your hold on his arm as you turned the corner. “You’re paying, by the way.”

“Wasn’t aware I wasn’t paying.”

“You’re my favourite sugar daddy.”

“Don’t call me that.”

You grinned up at him, mischief in your eyes. “You love it.”

Bucky couldn’t resist the smile tugging at his lips. 

The two of you walked slowly, like you had nowhere to be — and you didn’t, not really. That was the beauty of Saturday mornings. No Congress meetings. No global threats. Just coffee, a shared slice of cake, and the one person on Earth who made him forget what the rest of his life had looked like before this.

You tilted your head toward the nearest tree, watching sunlight filter through its leaves, and Bucky watched you instead.

“This neighbourhood’s changing,” you murmured, pointing across the street. “That used to be a laundromat, didn’t it?”

“Yeah. You used to drop your delicates there and then come over to my place to complain about how everything smelled like lavender.”

You laughed. “I still hate lavender.”

He smiled softly. “I know.”

You looked up at him at that. Something flickered in your expression, brief but curious, like you hadn’t expected him to remember something so small.

But he remembered everything.

Like the way you always brought a spare hair tie but never used it. The way you couldn’t walk past a bookstore without wandering in. The way your lips pressed together when you were trying not to say something too honest.

You kicked a little rock on the sidewalk and it skipped ahead of you.

He filed that away too. He always did. Like collecting evidence of the person he couldn’t have but would’ve worshipped if you’d only let him.

You stopped at the corner where the café sat, all old bricks and chipped blue paint and hand-drawn chalkboard menus. He reached for the door and held it open without thinking. You paused just before walking in, brushing your hand against his stomach briefly—just a friendly touch, just something easy and natural—but it burned like a brand.

Inside, the place smelled like roasted espresso beans and sugar. The usual barista waved at you both.

You smiled at her and then up at him. “Iced latte. Two shots. Oat milk. No syrup.”

“You think I don’t know your order by now?”

“I like to keep you on your toes.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was no bite to it. Just warmth. Just a quiet affection he’d never let himself name.

You drifted toward the back table—the one with the wobbly leg—and pulled out your favourite chair, the one with the chipped white paint and the tiny carved heart in the corner that you'd pretended to hate but never actually swapped out.

He stepped up to the counter and ordered your drinks, adding the raspberry and coconut loaf without hesitation. They gave him the biggest slice because they knew it was for you.

By the time he joined you at the table, you’d already folded your arms on the tabletop and rested your chin on them like a kid, watching him with lazy amusement.

“You know,” you said, “if I were a stranger, I’d assume we were dating.”

His chest tightened. But he managed a smirk.

“If we were dating, you’d let me eat more than a third of the cake.”

“If we were dating, we'd live together, and you wouldn’t keep stealing my mail,” you fired back.

“You love it when I steal your mail.”

You grinned.

God, he wanted to reach across the table and tuck that loose strand of hair behind your ear. Not because it was in the way—just because he could.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he pushed the raspberry loaf toward you and watched you light up like you’d been handed a gift.

You broke off a corner and handed it to him without thinking. He took it with a faint smile, letting your fingertips brush.

He wondered—again—if you noticed how often you touched him. If you knew how he soaked up every second of it like a starving man.

You sipped your coffee and hummed in satisfaction. “They made it strong today.”

“Good. You get bitchy when you’re tired.”

You narrowed your eyes. “And you get soft when you’re around me.”

He looked at you. Really looked. And for one terrifying moment, he wanted to say something real.

I do. I get soft. I get stupid. I’d say yes to anything you asked me, even if it tore me up inside.

Instead, he leaned back in his chair and said, “That’s your influence. You’re corrupting me.”

You didn’t deny it.

You just smiled, eyes bright with affection, and reached for another piece of cake.

And Bucky Barnes, hardened soldier, century-old weapon, killer turned Congressman turned best friend—sat there, letting you have the bigger half, just like always.

The coffee shop hummed with weekend ease — low music from the speakers, baristas laughing behind the counter, the soft hiss of steamed milk. Your fork tapped against the plate as you divided the final bite of raspberry loaf without asking, pushing the smaller piece toward him.

He gave you a look.

“Don’t fight it,” you said lightly. “You’ve had enough.”

“I paid for it,” he muttered, but still took the bite.

You laughed, sipping your drink. Your lips were pink from the berry glaze, and you wore that tired little smile — the one you always had when you’d slept like shit but tried to hide it. He noticed it all. Of course he did.

Your phone buzzed on the table beside your latte. You glanced down and grinned.

That grin made his stomach turn, but he didn’t know why yet.

“Who’s that?” he asked, casually enough.

“Oh.” You picked up the phone and typed quickly, still smiling. “Congressman Blake.”

His chest tightened before his brain even caught up. “The one from judiciary?”

“Mhm.” You looked up, eyes still sparkling. “He’s taking me to dinner tonight.”

It hit him like a punch.

You. Dressed up for someone else. Smiling like that for someone else. Letting someone else close enough to ruin you.

His jaw locked before he could stop it. “Blake’s—”

“Don’t.” You cut him off before he even said it, tone playful but warning. “Don’t do the overprotective big brother thing.”

He tried to keep his voice even. Tried not to let anything show. “I’m not. Just… Blake? Really?”

“What’s wrong with Blake?”

He’s a sleaze. He cheats. He brags about interns behind closed doors. He’s not safe. But he couldn’t say any of that. Not without sounding like a jealous asshole.

“Nothing,” he said flatly. “Just didn’t realise he was your type.”

You tilted your head. “And what’s my type, Barnes?”

He didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Not when every version of your type in his mind looked a hell of a lot like him.

You sipped your drink again and shrugged, clearly brushing it off. “He’s nice. He’s… ambitious. Confident. And he actually asked.”

That part stung. You’d never said it before, but it was true. Bucky had never asked. He hovered. Protected. Lingered too long when you hugged him, always brushed his thumb along your lower back when he walked you home. But he never crossed the line.

You leaned back in your chair, looking suddenly shy. “Anyway. I think it’s time.”

“Time for what?”

You looked down at your hands, fiddling with your straw wrapper. “To… take that step. You know.”

He went still. “What step?”

You hesitated, then looked him dead in the eye. “I want to have sex with him, Buck.”

He froze.

There was a high-pitched ringing in his ears, and for a second, the café blurred at the edges.

You kept talking, like you hadn’t just detonated a nuclear bomb on his morning.

“I know it’s stupid. I know I should’ve done it sooner or—whatever. I mean, we’ve been seeing each other for a week and a half, and I’m not used to this sort of thing. To be honest, I wonder if it's a little fast. But Blake keeps making moves, and I think tonight will maybe be the night? I mean, he’s hot, and he wants to, and I want to, I guess.”

Bucky blinked. “You want to have sex with Congressman Blake?”

You flushed instantly, but nodded. “Well, yeah. Bucky, were you just listening to a word I said?”

He sat back, stunned. You. Sweet. Soft. Letting someone like Blake touch you?

The metal fingers on his left hand flexed beneath the table.

You rushed to fill the silence. “I just think… I don’t want to mess it up. And he’s… I don’t know, experienced. I want to be good. I want to be enough.”

That last part did something awful to him.

“Don’t say that,” he said sharply.

You blinked. “Say what?”

“That you’re not enough. That you need to impress him.”

You gave him a look, somewhere between touched and confused. “Buck…”

But he couldn’t let it go. Not now.

“You don’t need to prove anything to him,” he muttered, jaw tight. “He should be lucky you’re even giving him the time of day.”

You went quiet. The warmth from earlier cooled around you.

“You sound mad,” you said softly.

He looked at you then — really looked. You, sitting across from him with your heart cracked wide open, trusting him with this truth. And all he could feel was helpless. Furious and heartbroken and helpless.

“I’m not mad,” he said, quieter now. “Just… surprised.”

You tried to smile. “You thought I’d die alone?”

“No,” he said instantly. Then softer: “I just didn’t think he deserved you.”

Your smile faltered.

For a second, you just stared at him, eyes wide and unreadable. But then your phone buzzed again, and the moment passed. You reached for it like nothing had happened.

“Anyway,” you said lightly, “I’ve gotta go and do some errands. He’s picking me up at eight. Think I’ll wear that little pink dress. You know the one I wore for my cousin’s wedding?”

Bucky nodded numbly.

He was your date to your cousin’s wedding last year, after you’d begged and pleaded with him. You told him you only wanted him there so your family would stop asking inappropriate questions about your love life. And wow, you played the part of girlfriend so well. That was the night when he’d nearly told you the truth.

You stood, slinging your bag over your shoulder, and leaned down to kiss his cheek.

“Thanks for the coffee,” you whispered. “You’re my favourite.”

Then you walked out, leaving him alone at the table, heart sinking to the floor, and an empty plate with few coconut flakes and a smear of raspberry frosting. 

──── ୨୧ ────

Bucky stared at the ceiling.

Then he stared at the floor.

Then he paced to the window, looked out at your door across the hallway, and paced back again.

And again.

And again.

His hands were in fists. Then on his hips. Then raking through his hair.

He couldn’t sit still.

You’d smiled when you said it. You’d meant it. It wasn’t some joke, some hypothetical. You really wanted to have sex with that asshole.

Fuck.

He muttered it under his breath and stopped in front of the counter, where he’d pulled up a dozen tabs on his phone for raspberry loaf recipes and hadn’t committed to any of them.

“This is stupid,” he mumbled to no one.

But still, he preheated the oven.

It wasn’t even about the cake. It was just—something. A thing to do with his hands that didn’t involve punching walls or texting you thirty times with half-written apologies and I didn’t mean to sound like a jealous jackass, I just—

He scrolled through the ingredients list again and set out what he had. Flour. Eggs. Sugar. Raspberries. Coconut milk — because you didn’t like regular milk, said it made your stomach feel weird. He always remembered the little things.

His thumb hesitated over the coconut flakes. Too much? No. He added them. You liked the texture.

He cracked eggs too hard. Spilled flour on the counter. Burned his finger on the pan and didn’t even flinch. All he could think about was you.

Your smile. Your laugh. The way you’d touched his arm at the café and leaned against him like you weren’t afraid of him at all. The way you kissed his cheek and told him he was your favourite right before walking out the door to go on a date with Blake.

He growled under his breath, rubbing flour into his temples.

The phone on his kitchen island lit up.

He stared at it for a long time, then tapped Sam’s contact. One ring. Two.

Sam picked up, slightly out of breath. “Bucky Barnes, to what do I owe the pleasure? This phone call isn’t therapist mandated, is it?”

“No. I stopped seeing Dr Raynor,” Bucky replied, eyeing up the mess in his kitchen and grabbing a towel with his empty hand. 

“And so now you’re calling me because… you miss me?” Bucky could practically hear Sam’s smirk on the other end of the line. 

Bucky sat heavily on the barstool, elbows on the counter. “Sam I need help. It’s Y/N. She’s going on a date tonight.”

“Okay… and?” Sam deadpanned. 

“She wants to have sex with Congressman Blake.”

There was a beat of silence. “Damn, is that politician who voted against women’s reproductive rights? Or was it the one who got those sustainability protestors arrested at Capitol Hill? Wait— is this the guy you pushed into the vending machine that one time?”

Bucky leaned back, eyes closed. “All the same guy.”

“Fucking super villain,” Sam muttered. “She needs to stay clear from him.”

“She kept calling him hot and— and I just sat there like a fucking statue while she told me she was giving herself to that slimeball.”

“You know you’re allowed to tell her how you feel, right?”

“No,” he said immediately. “I’m not.”

“Buck—”

“She’s my best friend.”

“She’s not a child.”

“She trusts me. I’m not gonna break that.”

Sam sighed. “Then why are you pacing?”

Bucky stopped in his footsteps, cheeks burning. “I’m not.”

“You’re lying again.”

There was a long pause.

“I’m baking.”

“You’re baking,” Sam repeated, a little dumbfounded by the confession. 

“She loves raspberry coconut loaf,” Bucky muttered finally. “Figured I’d… I don’t know. Drop one off.”

Sam made a sound between a laugh and a groan. “You’re hopeless.”

“Yeah.”

Another pause.

“Do you want her to be with that guy?” Sam asked quietly.

Bucky’s chest caved in. “No.”

“Then say something.”

“Sam, I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because she deserves soft,” he whispered. “She deserves first kisses and safe hands. Not a guy with a kill count.”

“And Congressman Blake is the guy who has that? I don’t think so Buck,” Sam replied. “She knows you and she knows your past. She’s not afraid of you, and she certainly wouldn’t want you to dote on her like this. Now, go finish up this cake and if you can’t tell her how you feel, at least wish her luck on her date. God knows she’ll need it.”

The oven beeped. The cake was done. And the conversation ended not long after that.

“Thank you Sam,” Bucky said, reaching for the oven handle.

“Love you, buddy,” Sam replied before ending the call. 

He took the cake out with trembling hands, set it on the cooling rack, and stared at it like it might offer answers. It looked a little crooked. One corner had cracked.

Didn’t matter.

He was still going to knock on your door in twenty minutes, warm cake in hand, and apologise for everything — even if he couldn’t say the one thing he really wanted to.

When Bucky finally managed the confidence, you opened the door in a rush of perfume and warmth, barefoot but otherwise fully dressed. Too dressed. Dressed like sin in a silk wrap dress the colour of blush wine. Your eyes were lined, lashes fluttering, cheeks glowing. And Bucky?

He forgot how to breathe.

“Hey,” you said brightly, clutching a delicate little purse in one hand. “Oh my god, is that—?”

He held out the loaf cake like an apology wrapped in parchment paper.

Your whole face lit up.

“You baked for me?” You took it from him with both hands, like it was something precious. “Bucky, this is—thank you! You didn’t have to. I’m really sorry about earlier, by the way. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“It’s okay,” he muttered, eyes darting anywhere but your cleavage. “I was kind of an ass.”

“No, you were just being protective. You always are.” You gave him that soft smile that always disarmed him. That made him feel seen. “I’m just… I really like Blake, you know?”

His jaw clenched. He stepped into your apartment when you gestured for him to follow.

“I’m happy for you.” A bare face lie; but he knew he wanted to at least get to a place where he could be happy for you, his best friend. He hated the way he seethed with jealousy. 

You twirled around once and held your hair up. “Can you zip me up?”

He blinked. “What?”

“The back.” You turned around and revealed the bare expanse of your back, smooth and soft, the dress gaping where the zipper ended halfway. “I couldn’t get it myself.”

His fingers shook. He hoped you didn’t notice.

The zipper whispered upward slowly, every inch of skin sealed off like a secret he wasn’t meant to know. You smelled like lavender and coconut, something sweet and warm and home. You looked over your shoulder and smiled at him.

“Thanks, Buck.”

He cleared his throat. “You look… nice.”

Nice. That’s what he landed on. Not breathtaking. Not beautiful. Not like my heart was carved out and put in a dress just to mock me. Just nice.

You beamed like you hadn’t noticed his agony at all.

“I really want this to go well,” you said, turning toward your mirror to fix your lip gloss. “He’s not perfect, I know, but he’s charming. And hot. And I don’t know, there’s just something exciting about him. Like he knows what he’s doing.”

Bucky’s stomach turned.

“And I want to be good for him,” you went on, dabbing something shimmery onto your cheekbones. “Like… I want to know what I’m doing. I’m tired of being the clueless one. All my friends lost their virginity ages ago, and here I am, still fumbling in the dark.”

You turned to him then, a half-laugh on your lips, like you expected him to laugh too.

But he didn’t.

Your smile faltered. “What?”

“You’re a virgin?” he asked before he could stop himself. His voice came out lower than he meant, rougher.

You blinked. “Uh… yeah.”

He stared at you. Of course you were. Of course you waited. Of course you were soft and good and didn’t give yourself away to someone who didn’t deserve it—

“I mean, it's not typically something I announce at parties. I just…” you shifted, suddenly shy, “I want to be ready. For him. I want it to be good, you know? But I don’t want to go in completely blind.”

He didn’t speak.

You bit your lip. Then looked up at him with a spark of something hopeful. Something dangerous.

“That’s actually kind of why I was hoping you’d come by. I was thinking about what you said, about not trusting Blake, and I get it. He’s a little unconventional. But you’ve always looked out for me. Always been honest. And I trust you more than anyone.”

He stepped back, wary of the way your voice softened.

“So…” you stepped closer, eyes wide, tone casual but far too sincere. “I was wondering… if maybe you’d help me.”

His brow furrowed. “Help?”

“With learning,” you said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Like… teach me.”

The words landed like a thunderbolt.

You laughed nervously when he didn’t respond right away. “Not everything at once, obviously. Just the basics. Kissing. Touching. Whatever you think I should know. I mean, who better to learn from than someone I already trust, right?”

Bucky was silent.

Then: “You want me to teach you how to—”

“—how to have sex, yeah.” You said it quickly, breathless. “But like… in stages. Slow. You don’t have to if you think it’s weird, I just—I really want my first time to be good, and I figured if I have to learn, I’d rather it be with someone who makes me feel safe.”

Someone who makes me feel safe.

Not loved. Not wanted. Not the man you’ve been quietly obsessed with for years who would rip the world in half to protect you.

Just safe.

“Bucky?” you said softly, your voice a little nervous now. “You don’t have to say yes. I just thought—”

“I’ll do it.”

You blinked.

He said it again, quieter this time. “I’ll help you.”

Relief bloomed in your expression. You surged forward and wrapped your arms around his waist, hugging him like you always did — like it didn’t mean anything. Like it didn’t make his heart splinter.

“Thank you,” you murmured into his chest. “You’re the best, Buck. Really.”

He held you gently. Let himself have the moment.

One more second. One more breath of your perfume. One more illusion of something he could never really have.

“Tomorrow night?” you asked brightly, pulling away. “We can start simple. Just kissing.”

He nodded, throat dry.

“Great! I’ll bring wine.” You smiled again, radiant and entirely unaware of the devastation you’d just left in your wake. “Wish me luck with Blake?”

He forced a smirk. “Break a leg.”

Then you were gone — slipping into your heels, grabbing your purse, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and floating out the door like a dream wrapped in silk and naiveté.

Bucky was left stood in your living room, alone, with a sinking heart and raspberry cake crumbs on his shirt.

──── ୨୧ ────

The restaurant was dimly lit and swanky, tucked into the corner of a cobblestone street in SoHo. You were seated at a private table beside the window, candlelight flickering between you and Blake.

He looked good. Too good. Slicked-back hair, watch glinting under his cuff, shirt crisp and expensive. He grinned like a man who had never been told no, and flirted like it was second nature.

"You clean up well," he said, eyes raking over your body with a smirk. "Though I gotta admit, you looked pretty damn good when I saw you on Thursday. That little T-shirt situation you had going on in the hallway? Dangerous."

You flushed, laughing a little despite yourself. "Yeah, sorry about that. It was laundry day and I didn’t expect company."

"I didn’t mind." He winked, then flagged down the waitress with a pointed glance and a once-over that lingered just a second too long.

You watched him, brows lifting subtly.

She walked away after taking your drink order — a sweet rosé for you, bourbon neat for him — and Blake leaned in with that megawatt smile.

"So," you said, twirling your straw, "do you know my neighbour? Bucky Barnes?"

His smile faltered.

"Yeah," he said after a beat. "Guy’s… around."

You blinked. "You’ve worked with him?"

“Sure. He’s kind of a dinosaur, honestly.” Blake shrugged, reaching for the breadbasket. “Weird loner type. Barely speaks in meetings. Creeps people out, to be honest. All that staring and brooding. Makes everything heavier than it needs to be.”

Your jaw tightened.

“He’s a good man,” you said quietly, the edge in your voice unmistakable. “Sometimes, I can’t believe he even chose a career in politics but he really wants to help people. He fights for change.”

Blake chuckled, caught off guard. “Alright, alright. Didn’t mean to ruffle your feathers, sweetheart. You’re right. He’s… loyal. I’ll give him that. But Congressman Barnes and I don’t align on the same things.”

You weren’t sure what he meant by that, and didn’t dare ask. “How come you’re in politics?”

“Fortune, I guess. Power. The ability to get anything I want with a snap of a finger. My dad was a Senator so I’m following in his footsteps.”

You nodded, feigning an attempt to understand, but the glow you’d come in with dimmed a little.

Still, Blake recovered fast. He leaned forward and complimented your eyes, your dress, your laugh — all with a polish that should’ve made you melt. And it almost did. His voice was smooth, his words practiced but alluring, and when he touched your hand across the table, you felt your pulse stutter.

“You know,” he said softly, tracing a lazy circle against your wrist with his thumb, “You are so stunning up close.” His eyes dropped to your mouth. “This is unfair.”

You smiled bashfully, biting your lip.

Dinner arrived — steak for him, something creamy and pasta-based for you — and conversation flowed. Kind of. He liked to talk about himself, but you didn’t mind much. It made you feel like you were in the presence of someone powerful. Someone who wanted you.

At one point, his hand landed on your leg under the table. Light at first. Harmless. But then it inched higher. And higher.

You jumped slightly, thighs tensing under his touch.

Blake raised his eyebrows, smiling like he knew exactly what he was doing. “Too fast?”

You nodded, cheeks flushed. “Yeah. I’m sorry, I—”

“Don’t be sorry,” he cut in quickly, drawing his hand back. “You’re worth the wait.”

You stared at him, breath caught in your throat.

“I mean that,” he added, his tone softening. “Look at you. Smart, funny, beautiful. Not like the usual girls I take out. You’ve got something extra.”

You didn’t know what to say to that.

When dessert was offered, he waved it off and paid in full, leaving a cash tip with a wink at the waitress (which you pretended not to notice). Then he walked you out, hand brushing your back possessively.

“Tomorrow night?” he asked, opening the car door for you.

You blinked. “You want to go out again tomorrow?” You remembered your plans with Bucky, and wondered if you could fit in another date around them. 

“Of course I do.” He smiled, leaning closer. “Assuming you don’t have plans with your broody neighbour.”

You forced a laugh. “He’s not broody.”

“Mhm. I’ll text you, darling, and we can arrange plans.”

He kissed your cheek — too close to your mouth — and you slipped into the backseat with a flurry of nerves and butterflies.

As the car pulled away, you clutched your purse in your lap and thought about his hand on your leg. How it had made your stomach flip. How you hadn’t known what to do with yourself.

And tomorrow, he’d want more. Probably much more.

You weren’t ready. But you wanted to be.

──── ୨୧ ────

The silence in the apartment building was deafening.

You’d gone hours ago. Dressed in that slinky blush dress, eyes sparkling like precious gems, perfume sweet like vanilla clinging to the hallway even after you left. And Bucky hadn’t been able to sit still since.

He’d paced from the kitchen to the living room, rearranged the throw pillows twice, turned the oven on and off. Every creak of the floorboards made him glance at the door, hoping—praying—you’d forgotten something and come back.

You didn’t.

Instead, he’d stared at his phone like a man possessed, checking the time, the weather, the news. Anything. Everything. Just not you.

He should’ve turned the TV on. Maybe put on a record. But all he could do was think—think about the way Blake might have looked at you. Might have touched you. His stomach churned at the thought. Instead he tried fixating on you. The way your lips parted when you laughed. The way you’d asked him to tie the back of your dress, turning around so trustingly while he tried not to breathe too hard behind you.

God, he was a fucking mess.

You were out with a man who didn’t deserve you, and Bucky had stood there in your apartment holding a damn loaf cake like a second-place ribbon. All he could do now was imagine that guy’s hand on your leg, his mouth on your skin, and he had to get up again. Pacing. Rubbing at his face.

He didn’t want to know what was happening. But God, did it kill him not to.

So when your name lit up his phone at 11:32 PM, he nearly dropped it fumbling to unlock the screen.

you: home now 🥱 you: date was okay. he talks a lot

His stomach unclenched slightly.

You were home. You were texting him. You weren’t in Blake’s bed. You weren’t sending that same message to someone else.

bucky: Glad you’re back safe. bucky: He say anything weird?

He watched the typing bubble bounce.

you: just weird little comments. like he’s used to people hanging on his every word you: but he said I’m worth the wait 💀 you: so I guess I’m irresistible

Bucky let out a breath through his nose. A crooked smile threatened the corner of his mouth, even as he shook his head.

bucky: Obviously. bucky: Glad he didn’t try anything.

You replied a beat later.

you: he tried. I just… wasn’t ready.

His heart twisted. Part relief, part ache.

bucky: Good. bucky:  I mean not good that you weren’t ready. bucky: 😆 bucky: Sorry I didn’t mean to press that.  bucky: Slippy fingers. bucky: You don’t have to rush anything for some guy who can’t even respect your space.

There was a pause.

you: I know you: that’s why I’m asking you for help

His mouth went dry. He stared at the screen like it might combust in his hand.

you: tomorrow night okay? you: wine + lesson 1? you: blake’s taking me out again around 8, so maybe like… 6?

Bucky had never typed faster.

bucky: My place at 6.

Another pause.

you: you’re the best buck

His chest constricted.

bucky: Not even close, doll bucky: But I’ll try to be.

──── ୨୧ ────

Bucky had cleaned the apartment twice.

He didn’t mean to. He’d done the usual once-over in the morning, vacuumed, wiped the counters. But by 3pm he was scrubbing the inside of the microwave, reorganising the bookshelf, folding and refolding the blanket on the couch like the way it sat would change the course of fate.

You were coming over. For… lessons. Intimacy lessons. A phrase that had been echoing in his brain on loop since your texts last night. He’d barely slept, barely thought about anything else.

You trusted him with this. You chose him.

He stood in front of the mirror at 5:53pm, staring himself down. Fresh grey T-shirt. Jeans that fit just a little too well. Hair tied back into a man bun because it just wasn’t sitting right. A faint dab of cologne he hadn’t touched in years. Nothing too heavy. Just enough to make your heart skip if you leaned in close.

He looked like he wasn’t trying too hard. He looked like a liar.

At exactly 6:00pm, you knocked on the door.

Bucky practically tripped over his own feet getting there. He paused, steadied himself, then opened it.

And nearly forgot how to breathe.

You stood there in comfy joggers and a slouchy cardigan, wine bottle tucked under your arm, your hair tied up loosely like you hadn’t overthought it at all. You looked beautiful. Effortless. Like home.

“Hi,” you smiled, stepping in past him like you’d done a hundred times before. “You clean for me, Barnes?”

He rolled his eyes, shutting the door behind you. “You wish.”

You grinned, walking into the kitchen. “Liar. It smells like pine cleaner in here.”

He smiled despite himself, watching you drop your bag on the counter like you lived here. The sight made his chest ache. He wondered if you could hear how hard his heart was beating.

“You want me to pour this?” you asked, holding up the wine bottle. “Or are we going in dry?”

He choked. “Jesus, doll.”

You just laughed. “Sorry. I’m nervous.”

He joined you at the counter and took the bottle from your hands. “You’re nervous?”

“I’ve never done this before, remember?” you teased. “I nearly kissed a guy in ninth grade, but uh, that’s it.”

“What happened?” Bucky asked, popping open the bottle of wine.

“I ran away,” you replied bashfully and something in Bucky softened. “I have been doing research, though. Watching movies. Notting Hill. Pretty Woman. And I noticed, when the characters kiss, they always do something with their hands. And I’ve never even considered that before. Made me realise there’s a lot more to kissing than just, lips.”

Bucky tried not to picture where he wanted your hands. He tried really, really hard. “I guess.”

He poured two glasses, handed you one, and tapped the rim of his to yours.

“To lesson one,” you said.

He raised an eyebrow. “What’s the title?”

You grinned. “Making Out. Advanced level. With tongue.”

He nearly dropped the glass.

You walked over to the couch and plopped down with a cozy sigh, folding your legs beneath you. “You coming?”

Bucky followed, sitting beside you with a casual ease that was anything but. You turned to face him, sipping your wine once more before setting it aside.

“So… how do we start?”

He swallowed hard. “Well. Usually people don’t talk about it this much.”

“I like to be prepared,” you said sweetly, shuffling closer. “C’mon. It’s me. We’ve done worse together.”

Not like this, Bucky thought.

But he nodded. Let himself lean in.

You tilted your head up to meet him.

The first kiss was soft. Simple. Barely there. A graze of your lips against his, similar to the innocent brush of hands you’d share when you slipped past him, or the quick hugs you’d greet him with.

You pulled back a fraction, eyebrows lifting. “That was it?”

Bucky scoffed a laugh. “It’s not a race, doll.”

You grinned. “Okay, okay. Again?”

He nodded once.

You kissed him this time — a little longer, lips pressing to his with more certainty. Your hand landed gently on his thigh and he almost forgot to breathe. He kissed you back, slowly, savouring it, like his entire world was ending and he was memorising the taste of the last good thing.

Your lips parted.

Tongue brushed.

You both gasped.

You pulled away with wide eyes. “That felt… weird.”

He blinked. “Bad weird?”

“No,” you whispered. “Good weird.”

And then you kissed him again.

This time, Bucky cupped your cheek — warm hand tilting your face up, cold metal fingers brushing against your jaw. You didn’t flinch. Didn’t even pause. You just melted.

Your hand slid up his chest. You moaned — soft and surprised — into his mouth, and he made a noise so low it shocked even him.

You pulled back, breathless.

“Was that okay?” you asked.

Bucky’s pupils were blown wide. “Yeah. That was—yeah.”

You shifted closer, nearly straddling his thigh. “I feel like I could kiss you for hours.”

God, don’t say things like that, he thought.

But all he said was, “I’m not stopping you.”

You kissed again. Again. Deeper this time. Slower. The kind of kiss that curled your toes and made your brain go static. Bucky let you tug his shirt lightly, your fingers curling in the fabric as your body moved closer. You were pressing into him, soft chest brushing against his, and his whole body was buzzing.

Then you pulled back, blinking up at him, lips red and swollen.

“I feel kinda drunk,” you whispered.

He smirked. “You only had half a glass.”

You looked at his mouth again. “No, like… from that.”

And Bucky, with all the restraint he had left, cleared his throat and nodded. “That’s… that’s normal.”

Your mind was a haze and God, you loved the feeling. You kissed him again, and again, relishing the way his short beard grazed over your skin and how soft his lips felt. 

There was no hesitation anymore — not on your part, anyway. Your lips moved over his with practiced ease, like kissing Bucky was something you'd always known how to do. It wasn’t rushed, or awkward. You just melted into him like you belonged there.

But your hands… your hands weren’t quite sure where to go.

First, you cupped his face. Gentle, sweet. Your fingers brushed his stubbled jaw, thumb tracing the edge of his cheekbone. He could hardly breathe.

But then, uncertain, your hands moved — dragging down to his broad shoulders, feeling the solid muscle beneath the soft cotton of his shirt. You squeezed, a soft appreciative sound leaving your throat, and Bucky nearly groaned.

“You okay?” you mumbled against his mouth.

“Yeah,” he rasped. “You?”

You nodded against him. “Just… don’t know where to put my hands.”

He laughed under his breath, breath hitching as your hands began to roam again — this time down the curve of his chest. His heart stuttered.

“Here’s good,” he murmured, voice low as his hand found yours, pressing it gently over his sternum. “So’s here…” He guided you to rest your palm against his stomach, where his muscles jumped beneath your touch.

You slid your hand down further on your own.

Down his abdomen. Over his waistband.

Then down, across his thigh.

He tensed under your touch. The muscle in his jaw ticked. You didn’t notice — or maybe you did, and just thought he was nervous like you. But your hand stayed there, warm and soft, fingers lightly brushing over denim.

Dangerously close to where he was already hard. Achingly hard.

Bucky’s stomach tightened. His breath hitched against your lips.

You pulled back, blinking up at him innocently. “Is this okay?”

His voice cracked. “Yeah—yeah, it’s fine, sweetheart, just—”

But then your thumb brushed just a little too close. And he flinched. Subtle. Barely a shift. But you felt it.

Your brows furrowed, concerned. “Bucky?”

Shit.

He pulled back a little, drawing in a shaky breath. His hand moved from your waist to gently cup your cheek again — thumb brushing along your jaw to soothe you, even though he was the one falling apart.

“You’re doin’ perfect,” he murmured. “Just—let’s slow down for tonight, okay?”

You blinked, flustered. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No. No, not at all.” He smiled — soft, tender, reassuring. “You’re just… really good at this.”

You smiled at that, a little dazed. “You think?”

“I know,” he said, and the way he said it made your whole chest flutter. “If this was your first lesson, I’m kinda scared of what you’ll do to me by lesson five.”

You grinned, cheeks flushed. “Five whole lessons, huh? You planning on surviving that long?”

He snorted. “Not sure.”

You looked at him for a moment. Really looked at him. And he wondered if you could see it. The hunger he was trying to hide. The ache in his chest. The ache somewhere lower.

But you just leaned in, pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek, and whispered, “Thanks, Buck. I feel a lot better now. I should probably head back to my place, Blake is picking me up soon and I still gotta get ready.”

“Anytime, doll,” he said quietly.

You stood, stretching your arms above your head, and Bucky tried not to stare at the sliver of skin that peeked out beneath your hoodie. He watched you walk to the door, watched you turn back for one last smile before slipping out into the hall.

And then he sat there on the couch, alone in the dim light, still tasting you on his lips and aching in his jeans.

──── ୨୧ ────

Bucky hadn’t moved in what felt like hours.

The apartment was dark now — just the dim lamp in the corner casting long golden shadows over his living room. Your lip balm still lingered faintly on his mouth, vanilla-sweet and haunting. His hoodie still smelled like you. The blanket you’d been curled under was bunched on the couch, warm where you’d left it.

And he was still sitting there.

Hard as a fucking rock.

He leaned back against the cushion, ran a hand over his face, then down through his hair. He exhaled shakily. Tried to think about anything else.

Didn’t work.

Because it wasn’t just the kiss. Not really. It was the sound of your breath hitching when he touched your waist. It was your tiny moan when his tongue slid over yours. It was your hand—fuck, your hand—dragging down his chest, his stomach, to his thigh. So damn close to where he was straining in his jeans he thought he might’ve blacked out for a second.

You didn’t even notice what you were doing to him.

Or maybe you did.

And maybe that made it worse.

He stood, finally, and walked slowly to the bathroom — like his body weighed double. He flicked on the light. Avoided his reflection. His jaw was tense. Lips kiss-bitten and swollen. His jeans still painfully tight.

He let out a breath, then unzipped them. Freed himself with a hiss.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, bracing one hand on the cold sink as the other wrapped around his cock. Already leaking. Already aching.

He tried not to think about you.

But your voice was there, soft and breathy in his ears. “You think I’m good at this?” Your fingers ghosting over his thigh. Your body curled into his on the couch. Your mouth, warm and open against his.

“Jesus,” he groaned, jaw clenched, head falling back.

He started slow, fist pumping with deliberate pressure, teasing himself the way he imagined you might. He imagined your hand instead of his. The curious way you'd look at him while learning. The way you’d giggle softly when he moaned. How wide your eyes would go when you saw him like this for the first time.

“Yeah,” he muttered to no one, breath hitching. “Just like that, doll…”

He jerked harder now, breaths coming quick, thighs flexing, hips twitching. His back hit the cold wall behind him and he let it happen, let his legs shake as he chased the thought of you — you with your pretty lips and shy smile and warm eyes, the way you’d whispered “thanks, Buck,” like you had no fucking clue what you were doing to him.

You were so sweet. So good.

Too good for him.

But God, he wanted you anyway.

He came with a low, desperate groan, biting down on a whimper as heat spilled over his knuckles. His metal hand smacked against the tile wall. Breath ragged. Heart racing. His name on your lips still echoing in his ears — imagined, but real enough to ruin him.

Bucky leaned his head against the wall, eyes fluttering closed.

Lesson one was over. And Bucky Barnes was absolutely, completely fucked.

──── ୨୧ ────

Sebastian Stan taglist: @notreallythatlost @houseofaegon @bunnyfella @sunday-bug @wintrsoldrluvr @maryevm @mcira @monsteraddicts-world @positivenergy @cherriesnmango @navs-bhat @hits-different-cause-its-you @avivarougestan @allhailbuckybarnes

Lessons In Love taglist: (let me know if you want to be added!) @sebastians-love @sweetserendipity65 @sangsterizada @mrsalexstan @alpinescoowner @buckyslqve @morganfullaaa

[theraspberr1es]

Jealous | Eddie x Reader x Volt

Spoilers for the Love ending for Eddie and Volt

Synopsis: Someone gets jealous and you pay the price.

Relationship: Eddie x afab Reader x Volt

Read on Ao3?

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Working behind the bar at the Breaker Box is no sweat off your brow. In all honesty, it's nice to see your furniture interacting with each other. Penelope often comes up to ask you for advice. Dirk is always seen talking to at least one person per night, with Bats, unless Harper is present at the same time, in which case he’s painfully avoiding her. Dolly loves talking to you about her research while she nurses a beer. It’s fun. 

Another pro would be dressing nicely. There is literally no reason to dress up at home unless you’re helping Eddie and Volt at the bar. There was a sort of light bulb moment the minute the two men invited you back to keep helping out. 

The first time you pulled out a dressy blouse, slacks, and dress shoes, you beamed at the thought of getting ready with Barry. You were craving a reason to feel pretty. 

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Your heels clack against the wood flooring of the Breaker Box, announcing your arrival to Eddie and Volt. They sit at a booth talking over the game plan tonight. It’s a Friday, so it’s going to be packed. 

Once you get close enough, both Eddie and Volt look up from each other, and they both smile at you. Although Eddie’s is more of a light twitch of the corner of his lip. 

“Live wire, come.” Volt scoots down the booth chair and pats a spot right next to him. You give a kiss to Eddie first before you slip into the booth. It’s a short and sweet one that has him subtly leaning in for more once you pull away. Once you’ve plopped down, you kiss Volt, which makes him greedy. He eventually pulls away with a breath of pent-up energy that courses through his veins. 

“We’re just discussing what needs to be done backstage and what drink we should feature next season,” Eddie says, shuffling a few papers around. 

You perk up at the mention of potentially helping backstage. Although your first instinct is to be disappointed in the fact that you won’t get to show off your outfit. 

“Do you need help?” You ask Eddie, looking into his gray eyes that look less tired than they did when you first met. 

“Huh? Oh..no, I’m fine,” Volt nods beside you as Eddie speaks. “It’s just a few small things to do before Miranda gets on stage and I’ll come out to help you after.”

You observe Eddie, hoping he’s not under-selling the amount of work he needs to do. “If you’re sure,” you say, turning to look at Volt to see if his face will tell you anything. All you see is a comforting smile. 

“He’s got it, live wire,” Volt nods at you. Eddie’s gray eyes dart to the clock above the bar and moves to slide out of the booth. 

“We’ve got to set the tables.” The dark-haired man walks over to the bar to get a rag behind the counter. As he does so, Volt grabs your chin and turns your head to face him again. The last thing you see is his smirk as he continues his kiss from earlier. He only gets far enough to lay a hand on your hip, and Eddie speaks up. 

“Get up or we’re not having sex tonight,” the shorter man says as he puts the chairs back down onto the ground. 

Volt pulls away suddenly, leaving you semi-breathless. There is a blown-out appearance in your eyes as you look at Volt’s lips as he chuckles at Eddie’s words. Your lipstick is smeared over his lips. 

“Now I have to fix my lipstick, Volt!” You huff as you try to wipe at the edge of your lips with your finger, but Volt beats you to it by swiping the smear up with his thumb. 

“3…” 

“Are you counting down?”

“2…”

You and Volt scramble to get out of the slippery booth chairs. 

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The night is in full swing as patrons come up to the bar for drinks. It’s still early enough for Eddie to still be in the back. Miranda y las Migas are playing smooth rock that sets the intimate tone of the dimly lit bar. 

Just as you sent Dante off with his fireball mule, someone slides right up in front of you. 

“How ya’ doin sugar?” The black-haired man’s words slide off his tongue from the multiple instances he’s said those specific words. 

“I’m great, Tony! What about you?” You say, beaming a smile at the burly man in front of you. He looks good in a button-up, though it's hardly hiding his collarbone and his stupid set square necklace. 

“Oh…ya know, I’m just fixing everything up around the house,” Tony says, looking down at the bar’s countertop, seemingly more interested in the scratch that was left by Tina’s new bracelets. 

 “Thats…” you look down at Tony’s hand idly drawing circles on the bar, “really great!” 

“Yeah, I was thinkin we get outta here and we do some repairs together,” Tony said while still not looking at you. If you look closely, you could see a hint of red on his cheeks. It's hard to see in the dim lighting, so you’re just going to ignore it. 

“You know…like nail somethings and…uh, pound them inwithahammer.” He rushes through those last few words with an intended charming smile, but it looks more strained than anything. 

A short silence between you fills the air with only the band playing in the background. Then you burst out cackling. Not at Tony, though. At the situation. 

Unbeknownst to you, as you laugh so hard you have to close your eyes, Tony’s face becomes frazzled, and Tony is the type of man who was never frazzled in his life. 

“I’m sorry…” you let out between wheezes as Tony just looks over his shoulders, paranoid that someone saw what just happened. 

“I’m not laughing at you, Tony…it was a good joke!” You giggled out as you push your hair behind your ear before you go to wipe at the tears that have accumulated. 

Tony starts to read your response and starts laughing too. “Ha Ha! Yeah! Got ‘em!” He says slowly, genuinely laughing at his attempt to flirt with you. Maybe he should have listened to Rainey. 

“Alright, what can I get you?” You smile at Tony, it's award-winning in his book. 

He is caught off guard by your smile. “Oh, uh, just a Corner beer.” You nod with a grin and start pouring him one straight from the tap. 

The conversation between you continues between the customers you serve. Its actually enjoyable for both of you. Tony isn’t embarrassing himself anymore. He’s making you laugh with almost every word out of his mouth. 

The chime of your laughter is heard across the building where Volt is busy doing his hostly duties. He has to stop paying attention to what Luke is babbling about to look for you at the bar. 

Tony’s body is almost fully leaning over the counter to get closer to you. You’re leaning in to hear the toolbox better as he basically whispers into your ear about something surely not so interesting to be almost cheek to cheek. 

Volt digresses, its not cute. In fact, Volt’s body starts letting out a slight blue hue. 

“Whoa, I haven’t seen a look that deadly since we were surrounded in the great battle of 10,000 swarmers in the wastes,” Luke says seriously while looking off in the distance, like he was reminiscing about that specific memory. 

“My deepest apologies, Luke, but I must…take care of important business.” Volt does not spare a look at the redhead as he swiftly walks away from the table that only Luke occupies. 

Volt physically cannot look at the two of you anymore as he storms backstage to find Eddie with a screwdriver in his mouth, propped between his teeth. 

With a casual glance over his shoulder, Eddie’s thin eyebrows scrunch up into a concerned look. He quickly removes the Philips head from his mouth and turns his body to look at Volt, who appears to have a blue light shining on his back. 

“What happened?” Eddie blurts out, scrutinizing his lover for any physical tells. 

Volt crosses his arms and speaks softly to rein in his attitude. “You better get out there and go to the bar.”

“Why? Did something happen to her?” Eddie huffed, basically pushing Volt out of the way to slip past him. 

Just as Eddie pushes the door open, Volt follows after him as he stops dead in his tracks at the sight of you almost folding in on yourself from laughter. Tony sits across from you as he goes to tuck your hair behind your ear. 

“What. the. Fuck?” Eddie exasperates as he looks at the very clear flirting…okay maybe only on Tony’s behalf, but why did you let him touch you? 

Eddie sighs and rubs a hand down his face as he feels Volt getting more bitter with every passing moment. One of them has to be the voice of reason; this must mean Eddie has to be it for once in his life. 

“Look, I’ll go over there now and keep an eye on him, okay?” Eddie says while looking at the tall Englishman. But he seems so intent on looking at you and Tony that he doesn’t even acknowledge Eddie. 

Another groan from Eddie and a reluctant grab of Volt’s hand. It feels weird for Eddie to show affection in public, especially when the Breaker Box is filled. 

“Hey…” Volt’s eyes dart down to their hands and then to Eddie’s gray eyes. “Okay?” 

“Yes.” Volt nods, then brings Eddie’s hand to his mouth to kiss and lets go. He is swift to walk into the crowd of tables. 

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“So I says to her: What's got ya’ all heated?” Eddie overhears the ending of another one of Tony’s stupid stories. 

“Oh my god! You did not! Poor Winnifred!” You giggle, bringing your hands up to your mouth to cover the grin on your face. 

“I did-i did-” Eddie walks right up behind the bar, and you interrupt Tony in the middle of the conversation. 

“Hey! You’re back here early-” You’re stopped from uttering another word as Eddie grabs your waist and leans in to kiss you. 

A surprised yelp comes from you. It lasts for only a few seconds, but it’s all-consuming. Eddie pulls back with your bottom lip between his teeth and lets it slip out of its own accord. 

“Oh, hey Tony.” Both of Eddie’s hands now rest on top of the bar. They’re spread a bit from each other so that Eddie takes up Tony’s field of view from you, who is standing there, mouth open. 

“Need something?” Eddie asks, raising his eyebrows. His lips are smeared with the exact shade on your lips. 

“I-” Tony is again interrupted, but this time by Volt. 

“Live wire, be a darling and come help me with something,” Volt coaxed you from behind Eddie as he leaned against the bar. Tony looks at the white-haired man and observes the very same shade of red on Volt’s lips. 

“Uh-huh,” you mindlessly voice as you walk behind Eddie, who is still staring down Tony. 

As Volt guides you away from the bar, you try looking over your shoulder at Eddie, but your lover is careful to keep your eyes in front of you. 

“Is…Eddie okay?” You ask, tilting your head to try and look Volt in the eyes. “Rest assured, live wire, he is just fine,” Volt lets the words roll of his tongue as he softly pushes the small of your back towards the backstage room. 

As Volt swiftly closes and twists the lock on the door in one move, he corners you to the back wall. You stumble back as Volt invades your space. Your eyes blow wide again, for the second time today. 

“What-” you begin, but Volt grabs your chin to tilt your head up. He looks into your eyes for a few seconds.

“You know what you’re doing,” he deduces, then his hand slides from your chin down to your neck. Volt wraps his hand around the column of your neck, not squeezing, yet. He can feel your pulsing veins even from the light hold he has on you. 

He chuckles and leans down to you. You close your eyes, waiting for a kiss, but he stations his lips right next to your ear. 

“You’re such a naughty girl,” Volt purrs out slowly, then gives a nip at your earlobe. You slightly jerk your head away from his lips, but his hand on your neck makes its presence known by tightening its grip. He slowly applies pressure to the side of your neck, targeting your blood vessels and not your airway. 

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” you huff out from how charged up Volt suddenly is. You take it in stride, though. 

Volt slides his knee between your thighs and all the way up to the gusset of your panties. Another yelp is ripped from you as he slowly applies pressure with his strong thigh. 

“What has gotten into you two?” You ask breathly, huffing into the air. Volt starts to slowly bounce his knee, and your hips jerk involuntarily with need. He lets go of your neck to roam your body. 

Silver fingers find their way from your back to your waist and finally your hips. He grabs them and forces you to down further onto his knee. The friction feels good. You can feel your panties starting to dampen. 

“You’re ours,” Volt growls right before he roughly kisses you and pulls away right as you relax into it. 

He pulls his whole body away from yours and fixes his vest and runs a hand through his hair to push it back. 

“What?” You exclaimed as you squinted up at electricity personified. Your hair is ruffled, and your lipstick long gone. 

“You’re in for it tonight,” Volt says, turning around and grabbing his jacket that fell on the ground as you made out. 

“Are you serious?” You’re left alone, heavily breathing while looking at the door in disbelief. 

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

He was serious. You walked out of the back room to hop right back into helping Eddie with the bar. Tony was nowhere to be seen for the rest of the night. 

As Volt escorts out a very drunk Jerry, you are left to close up the Breaker Box with the gray-eyed man. 

As you wipe at glasses, you side-eye Eddie as he wipes down the countertop. 

“So…” you drag out the ‘o’ sound, “what was tonight all about?” You question, casually trying to read the room. 

“Apparently, you know all about it, so you tell me,” Eddie says, placing the rag down and turning his head to look at you. 

You stand there and let out a scoff of a “hah.” 

“So you’re also being cryptic,” you shake your head in disbelief, and actually start getting frustrated. 

“Why were you letting Tony talk you up?” Eddie finally says it, and you can’t help but laugh in his face. 

Volt finally walks into your conversation and slides up right behind you. 

“We’re serious, love,” Volt takes the rag from your hand and folds it up to place it into a basket. 

“Ah-he was not talking me up!” You exclaim as you turn to look back at Volt. Your furrowed eyebrows portray how genuine you are. 

“You cannot be this stupid…” Eddie sighs as he brings a hand up to his eyebrows, trying desperately to stop himself from running a hand down his face. 

“He wasn’t!” 

“He was, live wire, and you know better, so stop being a brat and head upstairs,” Volt says with finality. He put on the ‘not another word of it’ voice, which made you automatically want to lash out. 

Volt steps out from behind you and in front without looking at you. You curl up your fists like you could physically do something about it, but you settle for a mean little tongue out. 

You stomp your way up the stairs, and Eddie yells up after you, “You better be naked before we get up there.”

You throw a middle finger over your shoulder without stopping. 

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You shuck off your heels and your dress quickly while grumbling about everything and nothing. 

It goes along the lines of ‘is it a crime to laugh with someone?’ and ‘god forbid a girl has joy in her life!’ 

“Oh, look at me, I’m Volt and Eddie, and I think I’m always right!” You mock both of them while shimmying off your still-damp panties. 

“Ugh!” You get so frustrated that you don’t have the patience to properly unhook your bra. 

That’s when you feel a pair of hands swiftly unhook your lace for you, and you just hang your head down in surrender. You look a little funny with your hands dangling as you slouch in place, not to mention your bra unhooked. 

“Come on,” Eddie’s voice rings out as he tugs on one of the straps. You shrug the strap down your shoulder and the other one. You were finally as clothed as the day you were born. 

Eddie guides you to the bed while holding your hand and positions you the way Volt likes this time. Pillow princess, as always, he sets up your pillows and fans out your hair. He’s taking every artistic opportunity to get you on Volt’s good side. 

“Is this a present for me?” You hear his voice before you see him, as your vision is filled with Eddie. 

You feel Volt sit on the other side of the bed as Eddie brushes a few strands away from your face. Silver fingers beeline it to your exposed core. A small shock is sent through your body as his fingers meet your hole. He scoops up some of your wetness and brings it to his mouth. 

“Perfect, always tastes better when you’re boiling,” Volt whispers into your ear as he starts kissing your neck. He giggles as you jolt away from his nipping. His ultimate goal is to leave you looking like a polka-dot pattern.

Eddie starts undressing while watching the two of you. He can feel himself start to harden from how Volt teases you. The white-haired man works his fingers into you as he kisses at your face, lips, and neck. It’s like he can’t get enough of you. 

“You need to open up more, live wire,” Volt coos at you as your hips jerk up and a whine bubbles from your chest. Your body is already hot to the touch. Eddie’s cool fingers grasp onto your thighs and squeeze them to let you know he’s there. 

The dark-haired man makes you sit up so that he can sit behind you. He leans you back and you can feel his cock poking you. His pre-cum makes you shiver. As Eddie gets settled, Volt starts kissing his way down your body. 

Eddie rests his legs outside of yours and eventually hooks yours over his. 

Volt’s hand reaches to your clit before his lips can. His lips make a pit stop at your thighs to give it a bite mark. “Volt!” 

“Mh-mm-mm,” Volt hums into your skin as your legs jerk to try and get him to unlatch from the fat of your thigh. Eddie’s hands move to hold your knees still. As Volt rubs slow circles on your clit, he sends small zaps that make your hips buck back into Eddie’s hard-on. 

A grunt comes from Eddie as your hips reel back again. “Careful, live wire, or else Eddie’s going to be bad cop,” Volt chimes in, now swiftly undressing himself on the side of the bed. 

Eddie’s gray eyes roll at the comment. As Volt shucks off his underware, he kneels in front of you and props his cock on top of your mound. He pumps himself a for a few strokes and smirks down at your anticipatory gaze. 

“You looked so beautiful tonight,” Volt purrs as he taps his cock on your clit. You huff at his endless teasing. 

Volt’s right hand reaches past your head to right under Eddie's mouth, and they have a conversation filled with looks as the dark-haired male spits into Volt’s hand. 

Volt whispers a thank you and slathers his length with Eddie’s spit. Just as silver fingers go to push his head into your pulsing hole, he just has to say something.

“Say you’re ours and I’ll fuck you,” Volt’s face is serious, he drops his smirk and looks down at you with expectant eyes. 

“Come on, just say it for us,” Eddie decides this is the perfect time to pitch in behind you. He whispers it right into your ear. 

“I’m yours!” You rush out trying to get Volt to just push in already. “Only ours?” Volt tilts his head down again to catch your eyes.

“Yes! Only-YOURS!” In the middle of your response, Volt sinks in and lets out a very sexy groan that leads into a chuckle. Eddie’s hand snakes from your knees to your clit and starts rubbing tight circles at it. 

“No, no, Eddie, I’ll cum too fast,” You whimper back to him trying to push away his hand as Volt starts to thrust. His hand binds both of yours at your wrist. He keeps them pinned to your chest as he starts a rough pace. 

Air is punched out of you with every pound. It’s almost too much with how much is going on. 

“Be a good girl for us,” Eddie whispers as his unoccupied hand pinches at your nipples. You can’t help but gasp for air as Volt angles his cock at the right place. Your insides clench around him like a vice at how quickly they are getting you to the edge. 

Eddie leaves bites of his own on your neck as your body rocks into his cock. He’s definitely getting off on the sensation. He is so focused on keeping a steady pace on your clit to get you to the edge.

“My pretty girl,” Volt pants out as he looks down at your face, glistening with sweat as he and Eddie work you up to your release. His left hand goes to grab your face by your jaw and jerks your head to look at him. 

“You’re ours. Not Tony’s, not anyone else. Ours,” Volt punctuates every word with a hard thrust into you that is accompanied by yelps from you. The band in your tummy snaps and you cum hard and fast on Volt’s cock. It's squeezing the life out of him. He hisses as his cock is forced to pop out from the gushing. Eddie is stunned for a second at the sight of Volt’s lower abdomen getting drenched, but he works at squeezing every last bit out of you. 

Your hips writhe under Eddie’s fingers. You whine, and Volt quickly shushes you as he slides back in to use you to finish. His thrusts are off beat and desperate. 

“Be a good girl for him.” Eddie’s voice is strained, and his words slip through clenched teeth. Volt moans unapologetically as he cums in you. You moan with him and feel him dump loads in you. 

Volt gives the two of you a second to catch your breath, but pulls out and flips you over and yanks you back by the thighs till your face is at Eddie’s cock. It throbs in the air and is leaking pre-cum down his shaft. 

“You know what to do,” Volt says lightly patting your ass that’s in the air as you lean down to take Eddie into your mouth. 

“Thank you, sweet girl,” Eddie says, brushing your hair back from your face and caressing your head. You press your tongue against the underside of his cock as you slowly bob up and down. Hollowing your cheeks, you focus on his tip and swirl your tongue over it. Eddie groans. 

“I’m gonna cum soon,” He gives a warning, as he brings his hand up to his hair to push is back. You try hard to take him all the way, but you gag around his tip. That’s the tipping point for him as he lets out a strangled moan. 

You have no choice but to lick up the cum he spurts in your mouth. 

“Good girl,” Volt chimes in with a wet rag in his hands, he’s already wiping at the mess he’s made of you. You collapse on the bed with your head propped on Eddie’s thigh and your ass still in the air for Volt to clean up. 

“You were so good for us,” Eddie whispers to you as you close your eyes in exhaustion. 

“Get up, we need to change the sheets since someone wet-” Volt is cut off by your loud, “STOOOPPP!” 

“Aw, its not embarrassing,” Volt chuckles as Eddie princess carries your limp body off the bed. Volt kisses the back of your head as Eddie passes him to go to the bathroom. 

Eddie lets you do your business and sets you in the middle of them on the bed as he guides you with your jelly legs. 

The light in the room is turned off, and you start to drift to sleep, but Volt speaks up. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten so…jealous of…Tony,” Volt has to grit out the words ‘jealous’ and ‘Tony’ like it’ll kill him if he says it. “But I can’t help but be protective of the things I love,” He ends his soliloquy with a kiss to your forehead and a rub on your back as he hugs you in bed. 

In the dark, Eddie smiles at the two of you. He’s glad Volt took his advice. 

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Thanks for reading! Let me know what other situations you would like to see these hot sexy men in! - (•˕ •マ.ᐟ

[rafesteddy]

Heyyy! i just had a thought about bardown!rafe and reader, like reader being in rehearsal or smth and rafe watching and getting turned on… (and maybe leading to something +18🤭🤭)

Would love to read something like this! Love your work💕💕💕

-bia

Hi babe!! Thank you for your compliments and your ask 🤭 that means a lot to me. This does not need to be read with the rest of the au

𝓝𝓗𝓛!𝓡𝓪𝓯𝓮 𝔁 𝓟𝓸𝓹𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻!𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

+18 -> smut | 𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎’𝚜 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚊𝚍—𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚎𝚡𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚊 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚝, 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜.

c/w: slut!rafe, language, sexting, masturbation (male), sex tape and casting it on the TV, sex fantasies about the reader, overstimulation (rafe), unprotected p in v, possessive!rafe, begging, creampie, praise, rough-ish (hair pulling, slapping hand away) + voyeurism

2.4K

Rafe should’ve stayed busy.

Should’ve kept the TV on. Should’ve gone for a run. Should’ve thrown his phone under a couch cushion and walked the hell away from it.

But he didn’t. He’s sprawled on the sectional, thumb swiping restlessly, halfway watching Sports Center while waiting on the clock to hit draft party o’clock. His jaw’s tight; shirt wrinkled. And his patience? Nonexistent.

📱Rafe: Baby I miss you so much. You free?

He stares at the message like it’ll bring you home faster. Like maybe if he wants it bad enough, you’ll teleport from that studio across town and climb right onto his lap.

Buzz.

📱You: No baby. Sorry 💔

And then—fucking then—comes the picture.

You’re in glam. Full beat, hair curled, mouth glossy, posing mid-laugh in a silk corset and high-waisted micro shorts.

His head drops back against the couch with a low, guttural groan.

“Jesus Christ…”

He palms himself through his pants on instinct, already half-hard, vision blurring slightly as he squints at the screen like that’ll make your image drill deeper into his brain.

📱Rafe: You sure you’re not getting out soon?

📱Rafe: Like soon-soon?

He’s only half-joking, fingers fidgeting, stomach all twisted up—because it’s been days since he’s touched you, since he’s felt you curled up in his arms.

📱You: No 😞

His free hand flies up to rake through his hair, mouth parted in exasperation.

“Cool, cool, cool,” he mutters.

Then buzz. Another pic.

This one’s worse. You’re sitting pretty in front of the mirror, legs crossed, strap falling off one shoulder, giving the camera that look that always fucks with him—that “I know what I’m doing” smirk like you’re the star of his wildest dreams.

His slacks are definitely tighter.

Rafe adjusts and hisses at the pinch.

And then TikTok has the absolute audacity to send a notification.

🔔 @/yourname just posted: with @/stassiebby — Lights Down Low dance credit: @/kiana

His thumb’s already moving, instantly.

There you are, his girl, twirling, dropping into the beat, laughing with your best friend and looking way too fucking good for someone who just told him ‘no, baby, sorry.’

You’re so damn talented. So bubbly. So hot it actually hurts.

Rafe drags a hand down his face, biting back another groan as you spins in those tiny shorts, ass recoiling with a hard step.

And he knows. He knows if he opens that hidden folder—the one with the private videos you sent him on his road trips, the slow ones, the unedited ones, the ones where you moan his name and gasps “I wish it was you” he’s gonna spiral completely.

His body’s already burning; zipper halfway down.

Hearing your voice echo through the living room might just break him. But honestly? If he can’t have you, that’s exactly how he wants to go.

His phone buzzes again—and yeah, of course it’s you. You always know.

📱You: You got real quiet baby…

📱You: What are you doing?

He chuckles to himself, slow and low, filling the dark room. Rafe bites his lip, hand already resting over the thick bulge, hand rubbing teasingly.

“Yeah, yeah…” He mutters under his breath, fingers gliding toward the hidden folder on his phone, “you know what I’m doin’, sweetheart.”

The folder opens. He taps once. It expands.

And just the thumbnails alone nearly make him come undone.

You in his t-shirt. Bent over the edge of his bed, glancing back at the camera with that breathy little smile.

Or you in the back of his sports car, legs spread, moaning out his name as your pussy swallowing him up—Rafe’s cock glistening with you.

Or you and that first time you ever sent him a video in the pitch black, just your voice, soft and needy, whispering “I miss you so bad, Rafe…” leaving the rest up for his imagination to run wild.

He scrolls, breath caught somewhere high in his throat, heart racing faster with every thumbnail he flicks past. God, you made it so difficult for him —and right now it’s a fucking lifeline. Each preview teases something worse than the last: your face, your thighs, your mouth… his t-shirt slipping off your shoulder.

And then he finds the one.

That first night you filmed something for him alone in his house when he was gone, wearing his white button-down, nothing underneath except that lace she knew drove him insane, like you’d already know he’d be watching it in a moment like this with his hand wrapped tight around his cock.

He taps the screen. AirPlays it to the living room TV.

It fills the space in front of him and his hand drops to his lap. He moans, unzipping the rest of the way, letting his cock free and aching in his palm. The video starts, the soft whisper of fabric falling away.

He’s already close and you haven’t even started yet.

His phone buzzes.

📱You: baby?

A grin curls on his lips as he types back one-handed, thumb slow over the keyboard.

📱Rafe: Hands a little busy princess. Unless you have some time for me

You smirk as your driver rolls through the traffic light. You’re almost there… Just two turns away from the high-rise and your heart’s pounding from the thrill of it. Rafe doesn’t know yet. He thinks you’re still at the studio, teasing him just to wind him up.

You open the texts, see his name, and already you feel yourself start to throb. You move in your seat, thighs squeezing together.

📱You: I wish I was there

You don’t wait for his reply. You flick open your camera roll, grabbing a picture he hasn’t seen yet. One you took to tease him on his upcoming trip. His Kings sweatshirt lifted up around your waist showing off your ass and panties.

📱You: your turn

He nearly chokes when he sees the photo, and the contrast of your sweet little message with the image is too much. He’s already pumping slowly, but now his grip tightens, hips pitching.

📱Rafe: jesus fucking christ

📱Rafe: you’re evil

📱Rafe: you’re perfect

📱Rafe: you do this shit on purpose baby

📱You: send me a video when you cum. Volume on

📱Rafe: anything for you

📱Rafe: watching that video you took when I was in Vegas. You were wearing my shirt. Red panties. So fucking wet holy shit

He watches himself in the reflection of the window; jaw tight, eyes hazed, cock swollen in his fist. He’s not gonna last like this.

He lowers the phone for a second, groaning into the void, eyes locked on the TV where your slipping your panties lower and lower down your thighs.

You bite down a grin and don’t even wait to make it to the elevator—already typing.

📱You: don’t forget the video baby. I want to use it later

📱Rafe: Stop shit I’m trying to last

📱You: no baby. i want you to cum for me.

You’re walking now—keys in hand, purse hanging off your arm as you hit the elevator button and lean against the wall, heart in your throat.

You know what that video does to him. You made it for this reason. You can picture it perfectly: the way he’s watching, breathing hot and heavy, legs spread wide on the couch where you’ll be joining him in about thirty seconds.

You pop the lock open and step inside quietly. The second you look up, your whole body floods with heat.

He’s sunk into the couch—shirt wide open, pants halfway down, hair sticking up in every direction like he’s been raking through it for hours. One hand’s gripping his phone tight, knuckles washed out from how hard he’s holding on. The other moves slow between his thighs, stroking himself slick, twisting at the tip with a low, ruined sound that shoots straight through you.

Your voice’s everywhere—floating out of the TV in soft moans and shaky little sighs. The screen lights up his face in flashes, catching the edge of his jaw, the slow blink of his lashes as his head falls back, mouth open.

He’s too far gone to hear the door. Doesn’t even flinch when you step inside.

Not when you drop your bag.

Not when you toe off your heels.

Not when you reach up to pull off the Kings sweatshirt—his sweatshirt—exposing nothing but the lace underneath.

You watch him close, not even knowing you’re in the room yet. Your fingers curl around the straps of your panties, slowly dragging them down as you cross the floor, and still he doesn’t move. Still lost in the image of you on his screen, your name slipping off his tongue.

You peel off the last piece of clothing.

And then you speak. He sees you—and it’s like his brain stalls out.

Because there you are. His hand slips off his cock, chest heaving, and for a second, he honestly wonders if he’s dreaming—if the video, the moans, the grip of his own fist made him hallucinate you.

But then you’re on him. Straddling his lap. Skin on skin.

And it’s too real. Too warm. Too good.

“Baby…” He breathes, hoarse from panting your name. “You’re here?” He whispers, almost like he doesn’t believe it. “—Didn’t think I could need somethin’ so bad.”

You take over without a word, your hand wrapping around him, slick from his own palm, stroking him slow and tight. And it’s everything. His hips twitch. His eyes slam shut.

“You close?” You murmur, eyes teasing, lips right by his ear.

“Yeah—Fuck yeah, baby—I was right there—”

He’s a mess beneath you—hands gripping your ass like he doesn’t know where else to hold, head nuzzling the crook of your neck, muscles trembling. You’ve never seen him this worked up; so close he’s barely breathing, moaning under his breath like he’s trying to hold it together now that you’re here.

But you don’t let him.

You rise up on your knees, line him up, and sink down in one slow, sinful motion.

And that’s it. Rafe shatters. His entire body locks up—eyes rolling, jaw falling open, one loud, guttural groan echoing off the high-rise windows as you take him deep.

“Fuck—Fuck. Oh my god, baby—” he cries out, spilling the second you bottom out. His fingers dig into your skin, anchoring himself to you.

He wasn’t ready. He didn’t think this was how tonight would end.

But here you are. Wrapped around him. Making him cum so hard he sees stars. He barely gets out a broken, “Thank you,” before you start to move.

You roll your hips dragging a jagged gasp from his chest, like it shocks his whole body. Like it’s the first time he’s ever felt you. The sound between you is filthy, wet, too much. He jerks, hands flying to your waist, but he doesn’t stop you. Couldn’t if he tried.

He’s still twitching, barely coming down—and the second you move again, he’s gone. Eyes glazed, lips parted, completely overstimulated, just how you like him.

You know he’d never beg you to stop. Not when it’s you. Not when he’s finally got you back on him where you belong.

Your hands drag down his chest, nails trailing through the light sheen of sweat painting his abs. The flash of silver catches the city lights outside; the delicate initial around your neck and the shiny pendant stamped with his number. He watches it bounce with every thrust, his jaw going slack again.

“Fuck, baby…” He groans, helpless as you tilt back slightly and plant your hands on his knees, bouncing on his lap now, giving him the full view—your body taking every inch, squeezing around him like you were made to. He grips your thighs, hard, knuckles white, moaning so softly it barely makes it past his throat.

You reach one hand down to circle your clit but his reflexes snap. He slaps your hand away, fast and rough, and replaces it with his own greedy fingers.

“Mine,” he groans, low and possessive.

Then he fists your hair, pulls you forward, and crashes his mouth to yours. It’s messy and deep—his lips dragging across yours like he’s trying to memorize you again. His fingers don’t stop.

“I missed you,” he mumbles, kissing between every word. “Missed your voice, your body—how fuckin’ pretty you look when you take my dick—”

You hum into the kiss, mumbling right back, telling him how much you missed him, how good he feels, how you never wanna leave again.

You tighten around him—and fuck, he feels it. That flutter, that shake in your thighs, the way your breath catches as your head tips back.

“Baby…” He warns, voice cracking like he’s already there again. His grip clamps down on your hips, using you, bouncing you just right on top of him, driving into that spot that makes you cry for him. You're moaning with yourself on the TV as the video continues on, and to him it sounds like heaven. And then— “Rafe!”

You scream his name, eyes squeezing shut as you fall apart in his lap, soaking him, shaking from head to toe as your orgasm rolls through you.

And the second you do he follows.

With a sharp, broken groan, his head falls back, mouth open as he spills into you again. The overstimulation hits hard and his thighs jolt beneath you. Rafe’s hands clamp down on your hips, holding you tight, filling you completely as his heartbeat hammers against your palms. His lashes flutter shut.

You fold into his chest, and his arms come around you right away.

Your mouth finds his—messy, deep, breathless. He kisses you like he’s afraid to let go. One hand cradles the back of your neck, the other spread wide across your spine, holding you close.

“I miss you,” he breathes, forehead pressed to yours, his voice all shaky heat. “Miss you so bad it fuckin’ hurts.” You nod against him, still dazed, still trying to catch your breath.

And he holds you tighter. “Be here when I get home… I need you again before I leave.”

You giggle breathily into your kiss, still trying to catch your breath. “I think I’m just gonna come with you. How does that sound?”

Rafe’s smile pulls along your lips before he kisses you again.

“How the hell am I supposed to focus now? Got your moans stuck in my fuckin’ head… You in my bed all weekend? Yeah, that’s perfect, baby.”

@rafesthroatbaby | @ietss | @lilithblackkk | @rafecameronsfavourite | @my-name-is-baby | @urmotherlvr | @forgiveliv | @barnesboo1967 | @wtfisastiles | @k4yr14 | @taliescapes | @rafesbuzzcutseason | @sky-44 | @biascriptum | @vanessa-rafesgirl | @lolasangelz | @st8rkey | @lhhlver | @slut-4-rafey | @gri959 | @prettybabyyyy | @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account | @maybankslover | @littlelamy | @buckybarnessweetheart | @angelicameron | @lover-girlyy | @rcameronlova1 | @rafesbabygirlx | @mayanqueenxx | @bimbob1tch | @dylsdaily | @blair-bears-blog | @akobx | @countryclubwhore | @esmerai-artemis | @jkmylove97 | @wtfdudesblog | @livie4lifestarkeyblyth | @yasmin-oviedo | @queen-cs | @floredaqueen | @alexxavicry | @aerie717 | @cokewithcameron | @premiumshitt | @rcameronlova1

[sleepytopia]

Sunkissed and Spoken For

Task force 141 x reader

Summary: A rare day off with Task Force 141 takes you to the beach, warm sand, cold drinks, and the peaceful lull of waves. But rest and relaxation look different when four overprotective, possessive elite soldiers are your boyfriends. Between territorial glares, handsy sunscreen applications, and way too much hovering, it’s clear that 141 doesn’t know how to turn off the obsession… even in paradise.

The ocean breeze was perfect. The kind that kissed your cheeks without whipping sand into your face. Seagulls cawed overhead, children screamed with joy in the distance, and you were stretched out on a beach towel, sunglasses on, drink in hand, already feeling your muscles go slack for the first time in weeks.

But of course, you were never alone for long.

Not with them around.

Soap plopped down beside you, still dripping from the ocean, saltwater clinging to his abs like a damn magazine shoot.

“Oi, love,” he grinned, flashing you that rogue smile, “you should’ve come swimmin’ with me. The water’s gorgeous.”

“I was relaxing,” you teased, nudging him with your foot.

Before he could respond, Ghost sat on your other side, fully dressed in black, tactical as always, even under the fucking sun.

“You’re not putting sunscreen on right,” he muttered, eyeing your shoulders.

“I’m fine-”

He was already squeezing some into his gloved hands.

You sighed. “You know you're supposed to take the gloves off to rub it in.”

“No.”

Gaz approached next, two cold drinks in hand, sunglasses low on his nose.

“Figured you’d want something cold.” He handed one to you, eyes flicking to Soap and Ghost. “Don’t crowd them.”

Soap snorted. “You’re one to talk. You’re worse than all of us.”

Gaz shot him a look. “I don’t glare at every stranger who looks at them.”

“You absolutely do,” you and Soap said in unison.

You thought maybe, maybe that was all of them for now.

Until a tall shadow blocked the sun.

Price.

Button-down half undone, beard glinting with sea mist, towel slung over his shoulder like a damn king.

“Someone’s gotta keep you all in line,” he said, crouching beside you and brushing a kiss to your temple. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“I was… until I got surrounded like a prized catch.”

“You are a prized catch,” Ghost said bluntly.

You stared at him. “That wasn’t supposed to be encouragement.”

Despite the chaos, the day unfolded like lazy perfection.

They took shifts watching you when you napped. Price read beside you, occasionally shielding your face from the sun with his book. Ghost didn’t move an inch, perched like a lifeguard, sunglasses on, daring anyone to come close. Gaz built a sandcastle near your towel, for “proximity.” Soap kept trying to get you to reapply sunscreen… so he could rub it in himself. With enthusiasm. And wandering hands.

“Johnny, this isn’t the kind of lotion you’re supposed to grope me with.”

“It is now,” he said, grinning against your skin.

At one point, a beach jogger passed a little too slowly for anyone’s liking.

You didn’t even notice. But they all did.

Gaz sat up straighter. Soap narrowed his eyes. Ghost tilted his head like a predator tracking prey. And Price? He reached for your waist and pulled you into his lap like a casual threat.

“They look again, and I’ll make ‘em regret it,” he muttered.

You rolled your eyes. “You all are ridiculous.”

“Damn right we are,” Gaz said, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “We’re ridiculous about you.”

As the sun dipped low, casting everything in gold, you found yourself in a pile of bodies on the giant towel. Soap behind you, arms around your waist, humming some Scottish tune; Ghost next to him, finally dozing, head tilted back behind his mask; Gaz using your thigh as a pillow, drawing lazy patterns on your knee; and Price, sitting up with a cigar he swore he wasn’t going to light today.

You yawned, melting against Soap’s chest.

“I don’t deserve all this,” you murmured.

“You do,” Price said simply.

“No one’s touchin’ ya,” Ghost added.

“Not without our hands on you first,” Soap whispered.

Gaz smiled up at you sleepily. “Better get used to it, babe.”

And honestly?

You were starting to love being the center of their world.

© sleepytopia do not copy, translate, or plagiarize any of my works

[dawnkiller08]

Omg thank you TwT and so sorry for my account being full of so many reblogs. I’m working on moving my art to a different blog so it’s easier to find it all lol. The tagging never annoys me :3 I love being tagged into things. We did meet on TikTok, you’re the reason why I’m on tumblr too. Thank you for helping me get out of my comfort zone and bringing me here. It’s been really great. I’m slowly beginning to live my dream of becoming a well known artist and I like to credit you since you’ve been supporting me :) Ik we don’t really talk but you hold a special place in my heart. Again thank you so much for the tag. You’ve made my day.

@snowysoong SNOWYYYY! You’re one of a kind man. I love all the convos we’ve had and all the crazy stuff you send me. I’m so glad I reached out because you’re an amazing friend. I also gotta say I don’t think I’ve seen someone so dedicated to a character before XD I don’t think anyone loves Lore more than you. Your art is also amazing. Sometimes I wanna go on a liking spree but I feel that could be annoying XD I don’t wanna spam your notifications. Oh also thank you for introducing me to that comic site I think I would’ve died without it. I also really hate the time zone difference because I’d love to game with you or just call often. When the day we finally call comes around we should watch stuff during it. Maybe an episode of TNG with Lore in it *wink wink* You always make me laugh and smile. Whenever we talk it makes my day a little better. Trust that one day we will hang out irl. Never change Snowy <3

@dream-castt HEY DUDE! You’re a new mutual and friend but I already hold many treasured moments with you. The start of our friendship will always be a funny story to me. Thank you for info dumping lore of your oc on me the first time we talk lol. Another thanks to you for introducing me to VR chat. I still can’t believe my dumbass thought you had to have VR to play XD. Playing with you is hella fun. You always got some oc lore to drop and you’re really good at impressions. Your Scout impression is my favorite it’s really good ofc alongside your Connor impression. Sorry I’m kinda bad at roleplaying lol Oh also I love the random pics of your cat you send. I’m looking forward to the next time we call :) *sending you virtual ravioli*

Anyone else I would’ve tagged were already tagged lol Most of you are in the discord server. You people are crazy XD You guys make me laugh. I’ve also read most everyone’s fanfics. Top notch stuff I gotta say. Especially yours @dataentryspecialist. To the rest of my mutuals ily guys. I don’t really interact with you but I see your posts and smile. Hopefully you know all of you are dear to me. Wishing everyone a wonderful day/evening :)

favirote moots?

(People you tag have to reblog and say their favorite moots)

Okay wait

@ibrokeurheartbcuzubrokemine @foliverfalls @allyeilishh @addisonraesbaby @emiliesblohsh @bilsslut @noodleswashere @bilsbabyy @bitchesbrokenpromises @billsdollie

[xoxochb]

blankets ౨ৎ

“will you stop stealing all of my blankets!”

“these are mine, I paid for them.”

percy tugs his shark blanket onto his side, leaving you in only your pink floral blanket. you whine, reaching out for his shark blanket again.

“you paid for my pink blanket as well, are you going to take this one away too?”

“will it make you angry?”

trick question. or a trap.

you squint your eyes at percy. “I’m not answering that.”

“please.” he sends you pleading green eyes.

you scowl and roll over onto your side opposite percy so you don’t face him. even taking your blanket with you. percy pouts and dramatically slumps down along the bed.

“sweet girl.”

you remain silent.

he turns onto his side, resting his chin against your shoulder with a hand on your waist. he kisses your skin softly, cautiously. “I won’t take your blanket.”

you open your mouth to speak but before you can utter a word, percy beats you to it.

“yes, I pinky promise.”

you fight a smile breaking upon your lips. an even bigger grin when percy drapes his shark blanket over your frame before peppering a line of kisses over your arm.

it tickles. and before you know it your turning back to face percy.

he’s smiling as wide as ever. you wondered if he had a tail wagging back and forth in the back.

“stop looking at me like that.”

“like what?”

you shrug. “like that.”

“you gotta be descriptive here, sweet girl.”

“well I don’t know.”

“you read all these books yet you can’t come up with one word?”

“happy, in love, fascinated, transfixed. better?”

“I am, thanks.” percy reaches over and kisses your mouth twice. “and that’s just my default look around you. I can’t help it.”

“I’ve noticed.”

he kisses your pouting mouth again. and once more for luck and once more because he can.

you pull up the blankets along your frame. then you notice percy is left without any. you remove the pink one and drape it over him.

that’s how you ended up claiming each other’s blankets as your own for life.

[mw00nie]

you don’t know how to explain it without sounding insane.

you’re not just horny. it’s not a normal craving, not some fleeting kind of want. it’s deep, low in your belly, aching between your legs and humming through your blood like a fever.

you want him. not like a fantasy, not like a distraction. you want him like it’s biological. like your body is demanding him.

and he’s being so… him about it.

soft linen shirt, sleeves rolled up. a few buttons undone. glasses slipping a little as he reads the paper with one hand and stirs his coffee with the other.

you stare. you squirm. you try to keep it together. fail miserably.

“kento.” you say it like a warning. like a prayer.

he looks up, instantly attentive. sets the spoon down. folds the paper. eyes on you. “yes, love?”

you shift in your seat, thighs tight, your oversized t-shirt sticking to your too-warm skin. no underwear. no bra. just fabric and need.

you chew your lip. he tilts his head. “…what is it?”

you swallow. “i want you.”

his face doesn’t change. but you feel the shift. like he knows exactly what you mean.

still, he gives you a moment. “want me… how?”

you stand. cross the room slow, almost dizzy with how badly you need to touch him. press your hands to his chest. look up at him.

“like i’m going to die if you don’t fuck me,” you whisper.

his breath hitches. and then his hand is on your waist. firm. grounding.

“what happened?” he asks gently.

“i don’t know,” you say, voice shaking. “i woke up like this. i’m- i think i’m ovulating or something. i can’t stop thinking about you. my body just-”

he nods. murmurs, “i understand.”

then he kisses you. not rushed. not teasing. just full, slow, thorough. like he wants to give you everything and take you apart all at once.

his hands slide down your back. he lifts your shirt just enough to find bare skin. his palm splays against your lower back. warm. steady. safe.

“you’re burning up,” he murmurs against your cheek. you whimper.

he walks you backward until your thighs hit the dining table. you grab at him, needy and breathless.

“slow,” he says softly, kissing your jaw, your throat, your shoulder. “you’re overwhelmed already.”

“i need you,” you say again. “i can’t- kento, i need you now.”

he exhales. his jaw clenches. he cups your cheek. “you’ll have me,” he says. “completely. i promise.”

he sinks to his knees like it’s nothing. like it’s natural. reverent.

and when he spreads your thighs and leans in, his mouth is hot. his tongue slow, deliberate. like he’s reading your body and translating it to a language only he knows.

your hips jump. you gasp. your hands fly to his hair.

“oh my god-”

he hums low in his throat. holds you steady. you’re wet already, messy and warm, and he doesn’t say a word about it. just takes you in stride. devoted. focused. you come like that, fast and high-pitched, trying to stifle it in your fist.

“don’t hide from me,” he says, rising to his feet. “i want all of it.”

you pull at his shirt, desperate. he lets you. unbuttons it slowly, lets it fall. then his belt. then everything else.

he presses you down against the table, eyes sweeping over you like he’s seeing something sacred.

“you’re beautiful like this,” he murmurs, lining himself up. “so needy. so honest.”

you feel the press of him and moan. loud. he shushes you softly, kisses your temple.

“i’ve got you.”

he fucks you like he means it. not just to get you off. not just because you asked. he fucks you like it’s the only thing that matters in the world. like it’s worship. like your need is a gift.

slow strokes at first, then deeper. harder. your hands scrabble for him, nails raking his back, your mouth clumsy against his shoulder.

“just like that,” he whispers. “you’re taking me so well, sweetheart.”

you cry out. he kisses the sound from your mouth.

“you needed this, didn’t you?” he murmurs. “needed to be filled. taken care of. i know.”

you nod frantically, tears prickling. it’s too much. not enough. everything.

he’s panting against your neck now, thrusts getting rougher, hand slipping between your thighs to rub you again.

“you’re perfect like this,” he says, voice strained. “so warm around me. so fucking wet. you want it all, don’t you?”

you come again, shaking. sobbing through it.

he follows with a low groan, head buried in your shoulder, body tense and trembling as he empties into you.

the silence after is thick with breath.

he pulls back just enough to look at you, hand brushing your hair off your sticky forehead.

“you all right?”

you nod, dazed. completely fucked out. “yeah.”

he kisses you. so soft it makes your throat close.

“next time,” he murmurs, “tell me earlier. i’ll take the whole day off.”

you laugh. then gasp when he lifts you into his arms, carrying you toward the shower.

“we’re not done,” he says. “not if you’re still aching.”

he sets you down gently.

and starts all over again.

[whoswitchybabyanyway]

say it again

pairing: aaron hotchner x gn!reader

word count: 1.7k

summary: drunk texting your new(ish) boyfriend while out with friends :)

includes: no use of y/n, no gender specific description of reader, reader is drunk/mentions of alcohol and drinking, fluff. just cute wholesome fluff

It was supposed to be a casual Friday–a few drinks with friends, stories swapped over bar food and music too loud to really talk through. But you hadn’t realized how tired you were. How little you’d eaten today. Or how fast whiskey sours hit when you aren’t paying attention.

You don’t mean to get that drunk.

You had meant to just check in. To send a cute text to your boyfriend of a few months–the man you’d worked with for years, who had somehow gone from boss to friend to something infinitely more terrifying: someone you could see yourself falling for.

Your messages start out… maybe a little embarrassing, but at least coherent..

“miss u. u would hate this place lol so loud”

“why do guys named brad always yell”

“ur tie looked good today. tell it i said hi”

And then someone had ordered a round of shots. And then another. And suddenly, your thumbs stopped obeying your brain–which, to be fair, wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders either.

“emergency: i need cheese fries n maybe a hug. or both at once”

“hotsh hotc hotdch ur eyes are SO BROWN”

“ty for ur face and ur arms n ur … exist???”

You’ll be mortified by all of it tomorrow morning, but currently, you can’t find yourself caring about much, other than the fact he hasn’t answered.

You frown down at your screen, chin tucked into your hand, your other arm lazily draped around a half-finished drink in a sweating glass.

“What’s wrong with your face?” your friend asks, half-laughing at the childish pout on your lips.

“He left me on read,” you mumble, wiggling the phone at her as though it’s Exhibit A. “Aaron. He read it. Didn’t respond. He read it.”

She squints at your screen, then snorts. “How is he supposed to reply to ‘you’re the best jawline in the whole FBI’?”

You pout harder. “I dunno. Say thanks?”

Your friend just laughs at you, shaking her head. But you don’t think it’s funny.

Because even though you know you’re being ridiculous, even though the room is warm and the night is young, your chest hurts a little. Just a pinch. A flicker of doubt where certainty usually lives. 

You haven’t been together long–just a few months–and it’s all new, still fragile. You’re not used to this part yet. The missing him in public. Needing him without permission. The strange, quiet way his absence can leave you feeling a little off-kilter.

You stare at your phone.

“Fine,” you whisper. “Leave me on read. Rude.”

You sigh and drop your head onto the table, face smooshed against your arm. “I’m going to die here. I’m going to become a ghost in this Chili’s-adjacent bar and haunt the bathroom.”

Your friend pats your head. “You’ll be a beautiful ghost.”

You groan.

And then–

He’s just there.

You blink, lifting your head too fast–definitely too fast, based on the way the room tilts. But it doesn’t matter, because your heart is already thudding, even before your brain catches up with your eyes.

Aaron stands by the door, scanning the room, his tie slightly undone, his expression unreadable in the dim bar light. His eyes find yours, and his whole posture shifts–like something softens behind his stern exterior. Relief, maybe. Familiarity. 

Your mouth drops open. “Hotch?”

He’s already moving toward you, steady and sure.

“You stopped making sense,” he says calmly as he reaches you, slipping a hand under your elbow to help you out of the booth. “Figured I’d come get you after the third text you shortened ‘your’ to ‘ur’.”

“You read my texts,” you accuse softly, tilting your head back to look at him.

“I did,” he says as though it’s obvious, guiding you through the crowd like he’s done it a hundred times. 

“You didn’t answer.”

“I figured showing up would say more.”

You blink.

Oh.

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or just him, but your chest folds in on itself. You let him guide you out into the night, warm and solid at your side, and suddenly the rest of the world feels quieter.

A little less lonely.

The car smells like him. Clean, calm, a little like cologne and a lot like comfort. You curl into the passenger seat, his jacket draped over your legs, your shoes on the floor, bare feet propped on the dash despite his protests.

The window is cracked. The scent of pine and rain float in on the wind. The road curves gently away from the city, trees rising up like shadows on either side.

“I wasn’t that drunk,” you mumble.

Aaron hums. “You sent me a voice memo where you just repeated the word ‘eyebrows’ for thirty seconds.”

You groan, covering your face. “That’s not a crime.”

“I didn’t say it was. But it was… concerning.”

You peek at him—his profile bathed in the dim light of the dashboard, jawline sharp, mouth soft. That little tug of a smile plays at the corner, the one that always makes your heart do strange things.

You’ve known him for years. Shared cases. Late nights. Quiet grief. It took months to earn that smile, and when you finally did, you made it a mission to chase it every chance you got. And then—somewhere between burnt coffee and unexpected laughter—everything changed.

A kiss, in the kitchen after an especially tough case. A breathless “what are we doing?” followed by that smile and the softest, realest “I don’t know. But I want to keep doing it.”

It’s still new. Still precious.

But you can’t deny it already feels like home. 

Outside, stars scatter across the sky. You tilt your head, watching them. A few drift–too slow to be shooting stars, too steady to be anything magical. Satellites, maybe. You squint, tipsy and thoughtful.

“Do they ever crash?” you ask, voice quiet. “The stars and satellites. Do they ever just–” you mimic an explosion with your fingers. “Boom?”

Aaron glances at you, like he’s deciding whether you’re serious. Eventually, he says, “No. They keep their distance.”

“That’s kind of lonely,” you say. “All that space between things. Nothing touching.”

He’s quiet again for a second, eyes back on the road. Then: “Or maybe it’s safe.”

You let that settle. Then smile, a little sad. “I think it’s sad.”

He glances over at you again. “You think everything is sad when you’re drunk.”

You pout. “Not true.”

He reaches over, hand brushing yours where it rests on your knee. “Alright. What’s not sad?”

You turn your head, taking him in. The clean line of his jaw, the focus in his eyes even as he drives, the quiet steadiness of his presence. Your heart softens, like it always does with him. 

“You,” you say, a little too easily. “You’re the opposite of sad.”

He doesn’t respond right away—just gives your hand a quiet squeeze.

“When you’re like this,” he murmurs, “you forget to hold back.”

You smile, sleepy and honest. “I know. But you love me.”

A beat.

“I do.”

You blink.

The words hang in the air like mist, weightless and heavy at the same time. The quiet hum of the tires on asphalt, the wind brushing through the cracked window, the rustle of leaves as the road curves–all of it fades beneath two words spoken so simply that they almost don’t register. 

You sit with it for a second. Like you’re not sure you even heard him right. 

Almost.

But then they do.

“...You do?”

Your voice is barely a whisper, a fragile thing in the dark of the car. You’re staring at him now–more sober in this moment than you’ve been all night. Not just because the alcohol is wearing off, but because nothing snaps you into clarity like him.

Aaron’s hand is still on yours, thumb moving once, slow across your skin.

He doesn’t look over at first. Just exhales, the smallest lift of his brow, like he’s thinking back through the last thirty seconds and only now realizing what slipped out.

He gives a quiet, dry sort of laugh. “Suppose that’s not how I meant to say it.”

You just stare at him. “So… you did say it?”

His mouth twists–not regretful, just wry. That little pinch between his brows appears, the one you’ve come to learn means he’s sifting through something careful and important. “I did. Wasn’t planning to. Not like this. Not while driving you home after you sent me a bunch of texts about how brown my eyes are.”

You let out a tiny wheeze. “They’re very brown. Deeply brown.”

He huffs a laugh, but it’s quiet. Focused elsewhere.

“I mean it, though.”

You don’t breath.

He clears his throat, almost awkward. “I do love you. I was going to say it eventually. Preferably when you were sober. Maybe cook something. Say it over dinner. Something better than… a carfessional.”

You gasp. “Oh my god.”

“Don’t say it again.”

“A carfessional.” You bite your lip, barely holding in your smile. 

He groans, but you can see it—his smile, finally unguarded. Like he’s letting himself have this.

And something about that makes your eyes sting. It's a shaky little moment, full of that strange, sacred feeling that only comes around a few times in life.

You turn back toward the window, toward the trees passing by like silhouettes, the stars still scattered like someone spilled silver across the sky. You’re quiet for a while. Letting your heart settle. Letting the words breathe.

Then, softly: “I love you too.”

Aaron doesn’t flinch but you see it–the way his hand pauses slightly against yours. The way his shoulders shift, like something’s unfulring inside him. He doesnt say anything, but you don’t need him too.

He brings your hand to his lips, presses a soft kiss to your knuckles.

You smile down at your lap, at the warmth tucked beneath his jacket, at the world outside that suddenly feels a little softer. 

After a few moments, you sigh.

“... Still want cheese fries, though.”

He chuckles, shaking his head.

“I’ll find you some,” he says. “But only because I love you.”

Your smile curls wide. Warm. Dizzy with the weight of it.

“Gross,” you whisper. “Say it again.”

He glances over, flashes another smile back at you.

“I love you,” he says again, like it’s easy now.

Like it was always meant to be.

divider by strangergraphics

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Only Us

Main Masterlist - Dean Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, fluff, pre-established relationship, lotta smut (handjobs, oral f!receiving, p in v sex)

Summary/Warnings: After Dean gets back from a long hunt, the only thing he wants to do is see you.

Author's Note: Request from @daddymaster21! Gotta let men be horny and fluff too, guys. Equality.

Word Count: 3.4k

It had been a damn long week. 

All weeks were long weeks. Each one stretched itself thin enough that Dean felt like he going to snap, and by the end of the line, he and Sammy were more than ready to pack it up and head home.

But this week had been longer. Thinner. Every single breath had felt heavier than usual in his chest, and every single step had been fighting gravity. Sammy had been in resting bitch face since the first night, when they found out that they’d gotten two twin beds, and his legs would have to hang off the sides. Dean just hadn’t been damn sleeping, and the coffee had been shit, and he might have chopped off the vamps head a bit more aggressively than usual, but the hunt just couldn’t be done fast enough.

He missed his bed. His kitchen, and shower, and TV. 

He missed his girl.

That was why this hunt had sucked ass. Why it had been a shitshow, front to back. She wouldn’t have let them mess up the motel room. She would’ve made the coffee better. Dean would’ve been able to fucking sleep, because She would’ve been in his arms. But She’d also broken her ankle a few weeks ago, and he’d be a more damned man that he already was, if he let Her wander into the line of fire. So She’d been put on book-duty, and Dean had been left alone—with Sammy, who didn’t count—for too damn long. 

She’d been bouncing off the walls, too. First phone call he got, She’d been whining about not being able to move. And he’d smiled at the ceiling, and told Her than once she could run again, he’d let her come back. 

And it had only gotten worse. She’d been restless, Dean knew She’d be restless, but it just made him miss Her more. If he was home, he could let Her sit with him while he worked on Baby, and give Her shit to do. They could go for a drive, and She could choose whatever they did. He could make Her dinner, instead of hearing about how She’d had macaroni for the fifth night in a row. 

He loved Her. He missed Her. She was going to hit him or something, and he’d welcome it, because he’d be able to grab Her hand and pull her into a deep, long kiss. 

“No hunts for a week.” Sam grumbled as they finally turned onto the bunker’s drive. “I’m going to see Eileen in the morning. I know you’re going to be gross.”

Dean mock gasped. “I’ve never been gross in my freakin’ life-“

Sam cut him off with a flat look. “Last time you guys were separated this long, you broke the table.”

“It was a weak table.” Dean grinned at the air. He was going to break more than a table this time. He didn’t love his bed frame. The wall could use some repainting. Maybe they could get a new couch, too-

“Can you at least wait until I’m gone?” Sam sighed, and Dean shrugged, turning off the engine with an even wider grin. 

“No promises.”

Sam groaned, but there was no point sticking around to hear more complaints. They were home. She was waiting for him inside, and they had a whole week to catch up on, and Dean wasn’t going to just sit and listen to Sammy bitch about safe sex and how expensive furniture is when he could rush out of the car, and run downstairs. 

He shouted Her name the moment he opened the door, and didn’t get a response.

There was the brief moment of fear. Cold and raw fear that something bad had happened, and She was gone. But all the lights were off in the library, all the spare cars had been in the garage, and they were home a day earlier than planned. 

It was also two in the morning. 

She was probably just in bed. Everything was fine. 

More than fine. 

Everything was pretty freaking awesome, because Dean opened the door to their room, and She was right where he’d left Her. The whole room was a bit tidier—She’d been stress cleaning again—and She was wearing his shirt as she curled into the sheets, but it could be as if he’d never left at all. 

He tried not to disturb Her, as he shuffled into the room. Shedding all his dirtied clothing and kicking off his shoes, before slowly crawling into bed and grinning down at Her in the dark. She was beautiful. She was always beautiful, but there was something about this that made him feel like he was looking at an angel. Better than an angel. Something actually holy and perfect, that he shouldn’t be allowed to see. With hair messy and lips parted, all Her features relaxed and cast in pretty shadows. 

Dean probably looked like a creep, just sitting here and staring.

He didn’t really give a shit. 

Not when he reached down to pull a little hair out of Her mouth and She rolled over, wrapping Her arms around his torso. Her face pressed into his side, Dean tried to carefully move Her away—he needed to lie down, and pull Her onto his chest—and She let out most adorable grunt of annoyance in the damn world.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, trying again, and She only gripped him tighter. “Damnit, baby, I gotta move-“

She grumbled something incoherent, and Dean sighed, raising his voice slightly. 

“Alright, c’mon-“

“Dean?” She rolled over to look at him, blinking in the dark, and son of a bitch, he was the luckiest asshole alive. “You’re home?”

“Yeah, baby. ’S me.”

“Sam-“ She yawned, Her eyes remaining somehow narrowed on his. “Sam said you be home tomorrow-“

“We wrapped up early.” He shrugged, giving Her a tiny smile as he tried to move Her again. 

And she didn’t cling to him this time. 

But She didn’t go easily either. 

Dean grunted as She sat suddenly up, tackling him with a surprising amount of strength for someone who’d been asleep three minutes ago. Throwing Her arms fully around his neck and burying Her face in his shoulder. Dean’s arms flew up to hold Her, and she hummed happily, squeezing him a little tighten. 

“Missed you,” She mumbled against his skin, and Dean’s grin grew.

“Missed you too, sweetheart. Long hunt without you.”

“Hm.” She pulled back with a small frown, taking Dean’s face between soft hands and turning it for examination. 

“I’m in one piece,” he said Her name, his grins never faltering, and She sighed, dropping Her face back to his shoulder.

“Still wanna check.”

“Don’t worry, Sammy didn’t let me run into traffic.” 

She made a light humphing sound, and Dean kissed the side of Her head. 

“Good week without us botherin’ you?”

“No.” She grumbled. “This place is too big, Dean, it was so boring.”

He chuckled, rubbing firm circles on Her back, and this was why he’d wanted to come home so damn bad. She fit perfectly in his arms, and the bed didn’t damn matter as long as She was the one he was sharing it with.  

And the other thing, too. 

The one that he’d been more than ready to let wait for morning, because She’d obviously been tired, and they’d have the whole bunker to themselves. 

The one that She seemed to be more than ready for now, with the way She was starting to grind into his lap and kiss over his neck.

“Baby,” he muttered. “You don’t have to- You can go back to bed-“

“Do you want me to go back to bed?” She leaned back, giving him a small smile, and he sighed.

“It’s late-“

“We’ve gone all night before,” She kissed his jaw, and a warm little rush spread through his whole body. Right into his cock, already starting to grow uncomfortable at the feeling of Her perfect ass rolling over it. And Her breasts were pressed against his chest and begging to be played with, and She wasn’t- 

Dean grunted Her name, his hands flying to Her hips. “You’re not wearing underwear.”

“Was only me home.” She mumbled, and he fought down a groan when Her lips brushed over his neck. “Might’ve missed you a lot.”

Son of a bitch. Now that image was pushing its way into his head—Her splayed out on the sheets, Her hand between her legs as She wore Dean’s shirt, and called out Dean’s name—and the strain of his erection grew painful. 

“We don’t have to.” She mumbled, pulling back to meet his gaze. “If you don’t wanna, Dean, you can just-“

Dean pulled Her down into a long, firm kiss, and it was impossible to deny Her. Not when he’d been away this long, and he’d spent his own share of nights in the shower, thinking about this exact moment and fisting his cock in his hand. Her lips parted so easily for him, when he pressed his tongue into Her mouth. And when he let his hand wander down to squeeze Her ass, She made a breathy sound that made him sort of dizzy. 

“I wanna,” he muttered, moving his lips down to kiss along Her throat. “You have no idea, sweetheart, it’s all I’ve been thinkin’ about. But you’re tired-“

She shook Her head, wiggling in his grip. “No, ‘m not.”

Dean pulled back, giving Her a flat look. “You were dead asleep-“

“Awake now,” She shrugged, holding his gaze, and Dean was too lost in how damn pretty She looked—swollen lips and messy hair and his—to realize what Her hand, trailing lazily down his chest, was aiming for. Not until She palmed him over his underwear, and the rush of it hit him like a train.

And She moved slowly. Gave him time to stop Her. 

But Dean was almost under some sort of spell. Trapped in Her gaze and the feeling of Her hand, pulling him out and starting to slowly stroke him. It was torture. Perfect goddamn torture, his body melting into the sheets and his breathing growing labored as the entire world narrowed to just Her. Her hands—She’d leaned back, taking his cock in both damn hands and making his hips jerk up—working him until sleep really was the last damn thing to worry about. She looked at him so sweetly, with a borderline awe as a groan of Her name escaped his throat, and She’d goddamn straddled his thigh, grinding against it as Dean lost himself in the numbing pleasure from just Her damn hands.

She was building him right to the edge. There was that tension in his body, and it was going to snap if he didn’t stop it. And She was fucking soaked against his thigh, looked so pretty and needy, and he needed to feel Her. Needed to give Her anything She wanted, and then whatever he had left to offer.

He surged up without a warning, crashing his mouth over Her’s and pulling Her hands away from his cock with a groan. There was brief strain of frustration, but he’d get over it. He might just cum without friction, if She kept this up. Her arms wrapping around his neck in half a second as She met his kiss with the same starved fervor, and Her legs hooking over his waist as he lowered Her onto her back, kissing Her deep into the mattress. 

She giggled, when he moved to kiss Her neck. And it was the high, breathless giggle he knew too well. It meant She was desperate for him, and it always went straight to his dick, and goddamnit he couldn’t deny Her the world if she asked for it. He’d been a goner the moment She’d decided to kiss him instead of just passing out. 

“Not tired, huh?” He muttered, and She hummed. 

“No.” She squirmed below him, hips pressed right against his still throbbing cock, and he had to grit his teeth to keep it the fuck together. “Dean, please-“

He kissed Her again, going and going with teeth and tongue until She was panting and scratching his back. “Think I can make you tired, baby girl?”

She moaned, nodding and blinking up at him under fluttering lashes. The only thing that stopped him from blowing it right there was the promise of, after, burying himself inside her and finishing with Her wrapped around him. 

He could hold it off. Keep himself in control, with a last, softer kiss on Her lips and wink as he started to make his way down Her body. 

But goddamnit, She was a sight to behold. The best thing to taste in the damn world. Dean helped Her out of his shirt, and She was so soft, Her tits bouncing perfectly against Her chest. Her back arched off the bed as he took Her nipple in his mouth, sucking until a loud, pleading gasp left Her, and he switched to the other one. 

There was no rush. They had nothing but time. And Dean was going to use it. Work Her right up to the edge as well as he could, make it easier for Her to take him and Her own release strong enough to make Her putty in his arms. He goddamn loved it. How She trusted him enough to touch Her like this, how he was the only one who got to touch Her like this, all the little sounds She made when he kissed over Her navel and trailed two fingers between the dripping, puffy lips of Her pussy. 

Nothing compared to the sounds She made when he latched his mouth around Her clit though. And he could get high of the squeaking plea of his name, as he slowly pushed two fingers into Her cunt and she clenched around him. He could die here, with Her thighs trying to suffocate him and the taste of Her arousal on his tongue. He crooked his fingers, rubbing on that sweet spot inside of Her as he sucked Her clit, and she was going to yank his hair out of his damn scalp.

“Fuck, Dean-“ She cut herself off with another moan, and it fucking hurt, how much he needed Her. He couldn’t stop himself groaning, working his tongue in tiny flicks until She moaned again and started to grind onto his face. 

It was an effort, to stop himself from fucking to mattress. But She was so goddamn warm against his face, wet and tight around his fingers, and he knew that sound She was making. She was close. Dean was getting Her close, and he wanted to fucking feel it when She came. 

He forced himself back and She whined, pouting up at him in the dark. “That’s mean.”

“Sorry, baby girl.” He hummed, grinning at Her as he wiped his face. 

She looked like she was going to argue with him, but Dean just held Her gaze, and sucked his fingers clean. He knew his girl.

That always fucking got Her.

And there was nothing better in the world than watching Her mouth fall open, Her legs spreading mindlessly in an invitation for him to take. To have Her and throw everything into it, to let Dean make Her feel good. 

He always did. It made him feel bigger, when he did. He never did anything between his hands or mouth than use them for Her. They’d been stained and angry, and he’d been twisted and tired, but She still loved him like that. And She was beautiful and smart, so he couldn’t really get any better than something She loved. 

And She was never prettier than when She was ruined. Completely devoid of all the nervous tension Dean still loved, but made Her wired and anxious. 

So Dean felt a little bigger than fucking God, when he got to lean over and kiss Her gently, and She reacted to his every touch. Arching and Leaning into his, tracing Her hands over his chest and setting off a fire in his gut, whispering a soft plea of his name. 

Dean would do anything for Her. 

And he when She said his name like that, he’d have to be a sorry asshole to keep teasing Her. So he drew back with his brows raised, and She gave him a tiny nod. 

“Wanna feel you,” She mumbled, hands trailing through his hair, and he groaned, diving back for another kiss. 

She’d been a menace around his fingers. 

Around his cock, he never felt like he could be anywhere better. She fit him perfectly. Took him perfectly, with parted lips and a small gasp as he slid home. He tried to make it easier—if She kept squeezing him like that, he was going to cum like a fucking teenager—and rose up, angling Her hips better. 

That was it. At first. He could see Her tits bounce as She whimpered for him to move, and rub Her clit in tight circles to try and relax Her further. 

But She’d been restless. And She started to squirm, and he wasn’t going to last. The friction combined with the feeling of Her, he was going to goddamn lose it. 

So he flipped Her over and kissed up Her spine, sliding back and watching Her writhe with a firm grip on Her ass. But She was trying to damn kill him, and started to push further back so his cock bumped so deep inside Her it felt like She was swallowing him, and they had to move again.

He tried to lower back down over Her body—pinning Her to the mattress—but Her pussy fluttered around him, and he couldn’t stop the jerk of his hips. A gasping moan leaves Her and he grunted, kissing against Her neck.

“Sorry, baby-“

“More.” She gasped, twisting Her face to kissing Dean until he was pretty damn sure he was flying, his hips piston in and out of Her in desperate movement. “Need more, Dean, feels so good-“

“Fuck,” he grunted, and She was going to kill him. 

He rolled them over so She was above him, but he felt like he was on fire and didn’t have enough strength to stop Her from bouncing on his cock. He was going to cum, but She wasn’t there yet, and he wanted to watch Her fall over the edge with him- 

“Jesus, sweetheart.” He grunted, pushing up so She was in his lap and caged against his chest, and this was it. She threw Her head back against his shoulder with a moan, lashes fluttering and mouth wide open, and he’d never seen anything hotter in his life. 

“Dean,” She gasped, melting into him as he rolled his hips against Her, and She squeezed him like a goddamn vice. “Please, you’re- So big-“

“Shit- I’ve got you.” He kissed up Her neck, grunting when She captured his mouth and Her nail dug into his arm. The pain was more like little lightning bolts through his body, and he was going to explode. “Think you can cum with me, baby girl? Cum all over my cock, let me feel you-“

She nodded, and Dean found Her clit, pressing and playing with it until She was gasping his name and squirming in his grip and-

“Dean-“

“C’mon, sweetheart.” He grunted, and the tension in him was set to snap again. “Come for me, you can do it-“

She screamed his name, Her release seeming to wrack Her whole body, and Dean lost it. The view of Her in his arms, calling his name and going slack with pleasure, combined with the feeling of Her cumming around him, tipped him over the edge.

He fucked Her through their dual release, too far gone to stop until She was curled back into his chest, and the last of his release was dribbling down Her thighs. 

If She wasn’t already snuggling into his arms, that might have gotten him ready for round two. 

But this was pretty goddamn good too. Pulling out Her with a hiss from the loss of warmth, kissing Her brow before carrying Her to the bathroom. She used to toilet while he changed the sheets, almost falling off the seat when Dean returned and scooped Her into his arms. 

“Dean.” She mumbled against his shoulder, and he grunted an acknowledgment. “‘M sleepy.”

He chuckled, and he could feel his own exhaustion starting to press on his shoulders. 

There were far worse things to be tired from, though. 

“I know,” he murmured Her name, and kissed the top of Her head. “Let’s go to bed.”

End Note: Dean I'm never going to let the spn writers hurt you. As long as you're with me you'll get pussy and fluff, and that's a promise.

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[elleaitch22]

Terms of Endearment

Chapter 17: Twenty Nine Candles

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

A/N: We’re back from the concussion! I lowkey hate the plot, but we have to move it along for what happens in Chapter 19. I hope y’all love it!! xx Elle

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, dom/sub dynamics

Word Count: 9.9k words

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Azzi was bored.

Morgan had taken her to drop Soleil off at school. Then she went to the grocery store to restock fruit and vegetables.

She stared at the blades of her fan going around and around before sitting up.

Walking to the kitchen, she looked at the list Paige had given her for the day.

Affirmations in the mirror

Groceries

10 minute walk

4 cups of water

Journal prompt: do you feel safe and accepted here? what do you need to feel safe?

Share journal w P if you want

She’d done her affirmations as soon as she got up. She’d already gotten groceries. She was going to go on a walk with Soleil after lunch. She didn’t really feel like journaling yet, and today’s question required some thought. She pulled out her phone and saw a text from Nika.

Nika 🇭🇷😎: Have you and Paige talked about the simple stuff, like birthdays?

Azzi 👩🏽‍🏫🩷: …actually, I don’t think we have lol

When was Paige’s birthday? Azzi knew that the woman already knew hers due to her control issues desire to know everything about people who would be around Soleil.

Her phone buzzed again.

Nika 🇭🇷😎: Well lucky for you, it’s Monday 🙃

Azzi 👩🏽‍🏫🩷: MONDAY!!!

Azzi 👩🏽‍🏫🩷: What the fuck omg

Azzi 👩🏽‍🏫🩷: I’m gonna plan something. Will lyk about what I come up with!

Today was already Thursday. She had the rest of today and maybe tomorrow to plan something good for her girlfriend’s birthday.

Pause.

What can she even afford?

She grabbed her MacBook and pulled up her bank account.

Wait, that couldn’t be right.

Thirty-two thousand one hundred sixty-seven dollars.

She blinked. Refreshed the screen. Stared. Still. Thirty-two thousand one hundred sixty-seven dollars. What the actual fuck?

Well, she had been working for Paige since September, but she’d assumed that it stopped once they got together.

Azzi 🧸💌💗: You’re still paying me

Paige 💗😍🥰: You’re still working for me.

Azzi read the message twice, not quite believing what Paige had said.

Azzi 🧸💌💗: Just thought contract stuff was over when you asked me to be your girlfriend…

Paige 💗😍🥰: Yeah, but you’re Lei’s private tutor?

Azzi 🧸💌💗: Oh…😬

Paige 💗😍🥰: You don’t want to anymore?

Azzi 🧸💌💗: I love working with Soleil! Always!!!

Azzi 🧸💌💗: I just didn’t know you were still paying me

Paige 💗😍🥰: You’re working. I’m paying. That’s how it works, love.

Azzi stared at the screen. Paige was typing. Then paused. Then typing again.

Paige 💗😍🥰: And you’re my girlfriend. I like to give money and gifts to people I love. You should be happy I don’t give you something new every time I see you.

The brunette decided to ignore the swarm of butterflies that rumbled in her stomach. She wasn’t expecting that word.

Azzi 🧸💌💗: Lol please don’t

Paige 💗😍🥰: Where is all this coming from?

Azzi 🧸💌💗: I looked at my bank account. Was just shocked

Paige 💗😍🥰: We agreed on 5k a week. We can talk about adjusting the amount if you want.

Azzi 🧸💌💗: No. You’ll just pay me more

Paige 💗😍🥰: I’m happy you know me so well.

Azzi 🧸💌💗: 🙄 bye Paige.

Paige 💗😍🥰: Fix your attitude, love.

Azzi 🧸💌💗: Sorry.

Azzi 🧸💌💗: Bye Paige! 😁

She texted all the girls and asked them if they would be free on Sunday night.

Jana 🪡🇪🇬: Yes, why?

Ice 🧊🤍: me, j, and kk were supposed to have a movie night

Ice 🧊🤍: got something better 👀

KK 🤣🤪: girl boo 🙄 nothing is better than a night w me!!!

Nika 🇭🇷😎: You planned something that quick? Damn

Azzi 🩷😇: Not really

Azzi 🩷😇: I just wanted to see if everyone would be available

Jana 🪡🇪🇬: Is anyone gonna fill is in orrr…?

Azzi 🩷😇: OH! Sorry!! Going to do a birthday dinner for Paige on Sunday night!

KK 🤣🤪 renamed the chat to ‘PSkii’s Faves 💘’

Ice 🧊🤍: oh. much better than movie night! i'll be there

KK 🤣🤪: rude?? but me too

Nika 🇭🇷😎: I’m free. Can I bring N?

Ice 🧊🤍: not rude if it’s true 💅🏽

Jana 🪡🇪🇬: I’ll be there! Just tell me the time.

Azzi 🩷😇: Of course! Does anyone else have a plus 1

Nika 🇭🇷😎: Sounds good. I’ll be here if you need any help!

Ice 🧊🤍: just kk unfortunately

Jana 🪡🇪🇬: No. But I need to know if there’s a dress code?

KK 🤣🤪: shut up before i tell everyone what happened on tuesday

Jana 🪡🇪🇬: You can never go wrong with all black. But her favorite color…

Azzi 🩷😇: I think black with a little purple would be pretty

Ice 🧊🤍: 🤐🤐🤐🤐

KK 🤣🤪: p would love if everybody had on purple tho

KK 🤣🤪: thats what i thought

Jana 🪡🇪🇬: Perfect idea! So all black with a lilac or lavender accent!

Nika 🇭🇷😎: Cool. I’ll text Bob and Katie.

Jana 🪡🇪🇬: Me and Ice can help you decorate or plan if you want!

Azzi 🩷😇: I would really appreciate that! I’ll send some pictures later once I finalize a restaurant. Was thinking a steakhouse so everyone could have options?

Ice 🧊🤍: that sounds great Azzi. she's really gonna love it

Azzi let out a sigh of relief. Everyone was going to come, and now she just needed to find a space. She perused the internet until she found a steakhouse with good reviews who would handle everything, and they had a private space! She called to book the space for twelve people.

An uneasy feeling settled over her, and while she tried to remind herself that she was good enough, she didn’t feel like a basic dinner would be enough for the woman who had done so much for her.

Azzi 🩷😇: Are you busy rn

Jana 🪡🇪🇬: No. Need me to come over?

Azzi 🩷😇: Yes please!

The tall Egyptian queen was at Azzi’s in no time at all.

“What do you need help with?” She questioned as Azzi opened the door.

Azzi stepped to the side and went to get a pair of shoes. “I wanted to get Paige an outfit for dinner. Something she would stand out in.” She muttered.

The tall woman’s face lit up with glee. “Yes!” She exclaimed, grabbing Azzi’s wrist. “P never lets me style her anymore, but I have the perfect fit in mind.”

Fifteen minutes later, the two were sitting in Louis Vuitton.

Louis Vuitton.

“Azzi, this is my friend, Elyse. She’s going to help us.” Jana smiled.

The pale woman gave a kind smile before gesturing them to an area to the side.

“Jana told me this is supposed to be a surprise, which I normally wouldn’t agree on, but I’ll do anything for J.” She rolled her eyes affectionately.

Jana nudged Azzi gently, “She’s scared it’s not going to fit her well.” She whispered loudly. “But she doesn’t know I already have all of Paige’s numbers.” She finished loudly.

“What are you wanting to see, Azzi?” Elyse asked.

Azzi couldn’t say anything. Usually went she went to fancier places; people always looked to the person she was with. They never even acknowledged her.

“She’s having everyone wear black with hits of lavender, since that’s Paige’s favorite color.” Jana replied, looking at Azzi weirdly. She hadn’t known the woman to be very quiet, not since she’d been fully integrated into the family.

“Oh, so are we thinking a full lavender set? I have a few pieces I can pull.” Elyse started to turn.

Which was the exact moment Azzi found her voice. “No!” She cleared her throat awkwardly. “I mean, the room will already be a lot of black, lilac, lavender, and purple. I want her to stand out.”

Jana nodded slowly, brows furrowed. “That makes sense. What about an off-white or cream?” She asked thoughtfully.

“I think she’d look like an angel in all white,” Azzi felt her cheeks warm as she envisioned her girlfriend in an all-white outfit.

Elyse giggled at her facial expression. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll be back with some pieces.”

“An angel, huh?” Jana smirked.

It was Azzi’s turn to roll her eyes at Jana. “Shut up.” She said, a smile spreading across her lips. “She’s just so perfect, Jana. I swear she’s my own personal angel.”

Jana smiled softly, “I’m happy you feel that way about her.” She put her hand on Azzi’s shoulder. “She’s deserved someone like you for so long. You make her so happy, Azzi. Thank you.”

“She said I was one of the people she loved today.” She whispered, smile softening. “I wasn’t expecting her to say anything like that. We’ve only known each other for like two months.”

Jana’s brows nearly touched her hair before her face turned pensive. “Well, that’s not surprising. P feels very deeply, and once she decides to let someone in, she’s all in.”

Azzi nodded minutely, “I know, I just am a little…scared I’m gonna fuck it up and she’ll leave.”

“The best and worst thing about Paige is that she stays through everything. I promise that’s not something you'll ever have to worry about.”

As Elyse returned with a rack of white pieces, Azzi straightened up, cheeks still warm but eyes focused.

If she couldn’t give Paige everything, she could still give her this, one perfect night planned with love.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Ice 🧊🤍: Attachment: 3 images

Ice 🧊🤍: all done!!! see you in a few hours

Azzi let out a breath she’d been holding all day. Ice and Jana had made the room look amazing. There was a tasteful balloon arch covering the entire back wall, and it would be perfect for pictures. The table was decorated beautifully, the centerpieces and place settings a lush mix of purple flowers and greenery.

Her phone buzzed again.

Jana 🪡🇪🇬: I’ll be there in 45 with all the luggage and your presents!

Azzi eyes were almost closed with how hard she was grinning. She hoped Paige would love her surprise. Well surprises.

She grabbed the garment bags that held Paige’s outfit and Soleil’s dress before heading upstairs.

“Paige Madison!” She yelled the moment the elevator doors slid open.

She giggled at the quick footsteps slapping the wooden floors.

“What did I do?” Paige gasped as she rounded the corner. She clocked the bags Azzi was holding and her brows furrowed. “What’s that for?”

Azzi huffed, jutting her hip to the side, full of faux attitude. “What you did was not tell me your birthday was tomorrow.”

A pale hand to scratch at the back of her neck, “Well, I just don’t like celebrating my birthday much.” She hesitated. “And it never came up.” She finished, cheeks red.

“Well, to make it up to me, we’re gonna go to dinner. And you’re going to be happy and go put on this outfit,” She thrust the garment bag into Paige’s hands. “And you’re going to go do your hair and makeup and be happy about it.” Azzi finished.

When Paige saw her turning back towards the elevator. “Wait! Can you just…get ready up here with me and Lei?” She asked, brows raised hopefully.

Azzi couldn’t keep up with the mad act. She smiled brightly, “Of course I can! Just let me go get my outfit, then I’ll be right back up! And don’t get Soleil ready, I got her.”

Paige watched her go, lips tugging into a soft smile.

“Soleil! Azzi’s gonna be here soon!” She called, walking back to the living room.

Her daughter turned away from Lilo and Stitch with wide eyes. “You didn’t tell me Azzi was coming ovew!” She shrieked, excitement clear in her voice.

“She didn’t tell me either, Lei!” Paige exclaimed playfully. “You can wait for her here or in your room, but I have to get ready so I don’t get in trouble."

Soleil’s eyes widened. “Yeah, Mommy. You don’t wanna be in twouble on youw biwthday!” She shooed Paige away.

She walked to her closet, hanging the bag on one of the racks. She knew whatever Azzi had picked for her would be great, and it was a gift from the girl she loved, so it would be perfect.

Paige didn’t know what to expect when she opened the bag, but it certainly wasn’t this. She just stared at the cream fabrics, jaw on the floor. She was stuck there until a knock sounded at her door. Instead of a person, all Paige saw when she turned around was a sleek Louis Vuitton shoe box.

No fucking way Azzi spent this much money on an outfit.

Paige was in a bit of a daze as she pulled on the thick pants, monogrammed shirt, and wool vest. She floated across her bedroom to do some light make up and pull the front of her hair back.

When she looked in the mirror, she almost decided to fire Jana and hire Azzi to pick out all her outfits because she looked good.

Not like ‘I want to find a wife’ good.

But like ‘I’m rich and hot and the world’s perfect woman is in love with me’ good.

Like ‘My girlfriend, who I haven’t pressured for sex, might fuck me tonight’ good.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

In another room, Azzi was helping Soleil get ready.

“Whewe we going? We getting fancy, Azzi.” Soleil asked as she sat in between Azzi’s legs.

Azzi finished the last twist in the front of Lei’s head before pulling the rest back into a ponytail. “Well, your mommy’s birthday is tomorrow, so we’re going to celebrate.”

Soleil smiled brightly, “A pawty all fow Mommy?”

“Yes, baby. All for your mommy. I just hopes she likes it.” Azzi smiled. “Do you want a ponytail or a ballerina bun?”

“Ballet bun, please.” Soleil started. “Mommy always tell me when I do something fow hew, she love it the most. She gonna love hew pawty.”

Azzi planted a kiss on Soleil’s forehead as she finished the bun. “You’re all set pretty girl! Just gotta put on your dress and you’ll be ready to go.”

When she unzipped the garment bag, Soleil gasped at the fluffy lilac dress. “I’m gonna look like a pwincess!” she squealed.

As soon as it was zipped up, Soleil darted out of the room to find her mom.

Azzi took the quiet moment to get dressed.

After their day at Louis Vuitton, she and Jana had thirty more minutes before school pickup. And when the Egyptian saw a lingerie shop across the street, she pulled her over with a wink.

The set was simple, but gorgeous. On theme for tonight, it was lavender. The bra was made of lace so delicate that Azzi could see the outline of her nipples through the fabric. Instead of a thong, they decided on cheeky underwear. They made her ass look perfectly round and juicy enough to take a bite out of. The garter belt was the perfect touch, emphasizing her waist perfectly.

Paige was going to lose her mind when she saw Azzi, and she couldn’t wait.

The rest of her outfit was understated but sensual. The square neck displayed a tasteful amount of cleavage. The back dipped past her shoulder blades; Paige loved running her hands all over the bare skin. The silky fabric wasn’t skintight, but it clung just enough to outline Azzi’s curves.

The best part of the outfit? The shoes. The lavender heels were the perfect match to the set beneath the dress. They had satin ribbons that tied into bows on the backs of Azzi’s ankles (her favorite part, of course).

She pulled her hair into a curly updo, her face framing pieces doing their job perfectly. She added a smoked out purple shadow that made her brown eyes pop. A few swipes of lip gloss and blush meant she was ready to go.

Paige and Soleil’s voices got louder as Azzi walked out to the living room.

“Just tell me what Azzi’s planning, Lei. And we can stay home one day next week and watch movies.” Paige tried to bribe.

Soleil gasped dramatically, “But then Sewenity won’t have nobody to play with hew!”

“She can’t tell you anyway,” Azzi started, rounding the corner. “It’s just dinner, like I said.”

Azzi smirked as she watched blue eyes dilate. The heated gaze darted around her outfit, lingering on the cleavage.

“You look perfect, Azzi.” Paige said lowly.

Tanned thighs squeezed together at the low rasp in Paige’s voice that Azzi had never heard before.

“Thank you. You look good too,” Azzi shifted from one foot to the other.

A loud whine broke their trance. “Can we go? I’m hungwy.”

“One second, Lei. I gotta give your mom her present!” Azzi said, already turning toward the elevator. “It’s at my house.”

They rode down to Azzi’s floor, Soleil humming softly as she held Paige’s hand. Everything was quiet and warm, a hush of anticipation in the air.

Inside the apartment, a single white box with a lavender ribbon sat waiting on the entry table.

Azzi stepped forward, her voice low, almost reverent. “Happy birthday, Ms. Bueckers.”

Paige walked over slowly, untying the ribbon with careful fingers, as if rushing might ruin it.

“Azzi…” she breathed.

The purse was stunning. Cream leather was monogrammed with Louis Vuitton’s signature print, only this time, in her favorite color. And it matched her outfit perfectly.

“Look inside! Look inside!” Azzi said, practically bouncing.

Paige opened it and paused. Her eyes widened.

Three plane tickets were tucked neatly into the silk lining.

She looked up, already grinning. “Aspen? I guess it is time to teach Soleil how to ski.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Azzi had Soleil perched on her hip, holding her tightly with one hand and Paige’s hand in the other.

The hostess reached to pull open the door, and the moment they stepped through –

“SURPRISE!!!”

The room was quickly filled with noise – music, clapping, laughing, whistles, and a shout from KK.

Paige’s jaw dropped. Her eyes scanned everything. The ballon arch on the back wall, the towers of lavender and eucalyptus, everyone in all black. Her dad, her stepmom, her little brother. Her sisters and Naheim. All smiling and clapping – the picture of joy.

“PopPop!” Soleil’s exclaimed, reaching for her grandpa.

Bob came over with a grin, “Come here, Munchkin.” He scooped her into a hug, kissing all over her face.

Paige was still frozen, eyes misty. “You did all this?” She whispered to Azzi.

“Well, Jana and Ice decorated. KK’s on the aux. And Nika made sure Bob, Katie, and Drew could come.”  Azzi shrugged casually.

KK cut in from across the room. “Don’t believe her, P! She planned everything and paid for everything.”

Azzi turned to glare sharply at her friend. “Kamorea!”

“Baby,” Paige reached out, hand resting low on her back. “Thank you. No one’s ever cared enough to do something like this for me.”

Azzi let herself be pulled into a hug. “I was more than happy to do this for you, Paige. You take such good care of me…I just wanted to do something special for you.”

Large hands slid down the back of her dress, cupping her ass gently through the silky fabric.

Paige leaned in to press a firm kiss to her temple. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this. Deserve you. But I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to show you.”

“Gross, gays!” Ice called out playfully.

“Auntie Ice!” Soleil gasped, “You don’t bully fow love! That’s not kind! You can’t pick who you love!”

The room broke out in more giggles as Ice tried to defend herself.

Everyone moved to the table. Paige sat at the head, Soleil nestled comfortably in her lap.

Food arrived in waves, just as Azzi had planned. Pasta—al dente. Roasted vegetables, caramelized to perfection. Steaks, medium-rare. No seafood, everyone knew Paige hated seafood.

Naheim taught Soleil how to do a proper dap and fist bump. Katie and Bob told stories about Paige getting caught or telling on herself for sneaking out in high school. The girls all took turns talking about their UConn adventures.

Paige’s cheeks were flushed the entire evening, happiness shining in her eyes.

Several times, she leaned over to Azzi and whispered, “Thank you so much, Azzi.”

And each time, her girlfriend responded with a smile and a soft kiss. “You deserve it.”

As dessert was cleared, the waiter brought out champagne flutes and one with sparkling cider for Soleil.

Bob stood as soon as his flute was placed in front of him. “Paige, I didn’t know how you would turn out when it was just me and you. I was scared that I raised you too rough, but you are one of the best women I know.” He said, voice quivering. “You are a good listener, you show up, you’re an amazing mom. You’re raising Soleil to be strong and brave, and I am so proud to be your dad.” He walked over to press a kiss into her forehead. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

From there, everyone went in a circle around the table.

Katie talked about being grateful Paige had been so loving and welcoming, from the moment they met. She praised her for being such a good big sister to Drew. “Everything you’ve been though, and you’re still choosing to let people in. Let them love you. I am so proud of you, Paige. Happy birthday, baby.”

“I was gonna get you a present, but you bagged someone as bad as Azzi, so I feel like she’s your gift.” Drew started, drawing laughter from everyone. “But nah, for real. I think you were the first person I ever looked up to. You always make sure to take care of people; there’s so much you do that no one will ever find out. I couldn’t have a sister better than you. I love you, Paigey.”

KK was crying before she even stood. “You’ve been a role model to me since the day I met you. You’re a leader, but you lead in serving people, not ordering them around.” She breathed out harshly, trying to stop the tears. “Thank you for loving me, P Boogers, and happy birthday.”

Ice called Paige the eye of a hurricane – in all the calamity and chaos, Paige was always someone she could depend on. A safe space. “I’m lucky to know you, Paige Bueckers. I love you so much.”

“My twinnnnn,” Nika started. “I admire you more than you know. You make the best out of every situation, and you make it look easy. You are one of the best, most loyal, kindest people I know. And I am grateful to be one of the people you have chosen to love. Happy birthday, Twin.”

Naheim kept his short and sweet. “I’ve never had a sister, but I don’t think I couldn’t have gotten a better sister-in-law if I tried. I hope this year is everything you’ve hoped for.”

Like KK, Jana was a wreck by the time it got to her. “When I moved from Egypt, Paige made sure I felt like I had family here. She would make breakfast for me, wake me up for classes, make sure I was good at parties. You remember everything, no matter how small it is. You’ve just been the best, and I love you so much. Happy birthday, Paige!”

And finally, it was Azzi’s turn.

“I didn’t know a hot blonde was going to change my life, but you have. From the beginning, you have looked at me and seen me. You haven’t tried to fix me, to rush me. You have been so patient. So kind. So loving to me. You made it safe for me to fall again. You made me brave enough to fall again. So, I hope you know how loved you are, Paige Bueckers. Everyone in this room loves you so much, not for the things you can do for us, but because you’re you.” She cupped Paige’s face gently, “Happy birthday, my love.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Paige’s penthouse was silent.

KK offered to take Soleil for the night, promising to bring her back upstairs for their flight.

Paige sat on her bed; her vest draped over the back of an armchair. Her fingers were still working on the buttons of her shirt when the bathroom door opened again.

Holy fuck.

Azzi was –

Fuck.

She stepped into the doorway in a lacy lavender set, glowing under the dim light.

Paige wanted to bite her. Lick her. Mark her. Claim her.

“Well,” Azzi said coyly, padding forward until she stood between Paige’s legs, “Aren’t you going to unwrap your present?” Her voice shook slightly, nerves audible.

Paige reached for her immediately, pulling her in by the hips. “You look so good, baby.”

Her hands slid up the back of Azzi’s thighs, drawing a quiet gasp from her lips. Paige pressed soft kisses along her skin, trailing up until she could lick her belly piercing. She smirked against her skin as Azzi’s abs tensed under her lips.

“Paige,” Azzi breathed out.

“Whatchu want, Az?” The blonde rasped.

Azzi didn’t answer right away. Paige tugged gently, pulling Azzi to straddle her legs. The brunette wrapped her arms around her neck, lips hovering over Paige’s “You can do whatever you want with me, Paige.”

Their lips crashed together. Heated, messy, breathless. Paige licked into Azzi’s mouth like she wanted to claim it. Azzi whimpered as Paige gripped her ass roughly. Her hips ground against her pelvis. Paige groaned at the soft moan that escaped her lips.

In one smooth movement, Paige rolled them quickly, settling between Azzi’s thighs, sitting back on her heels to take her in.

Azzi moaned softly, eyes following veiny hands as they finished unbuttoning the shirt.

“Fuck, Az.” Paige said, voice thick with heat. “You’re so perfect for me.”

Her eyes raked over Azzi’s body. The outline of the nipples under the lace. The gleam of her belly ring. The darkening patch of wetness on her panties.

Paige’s hand reached out on instinct, thumbing at one nipple. Mouth watering at the thought of wrapping her lips around it. At the thought of licking all of her.

“You gonna be good for me, baby?” She asked.

Azzi whimpered, a small thrust showing her desire.

Paige leaned over her, “C’mon baby. I need your words.” She muttered, her voice low against her neck.

“Fuck,” Azzi moaned.

She’d never heard Paige like this. This Paige – voice low, eyes blown, completely locked in on her – this Paige was new. She was wrecking Azzi.

“Azzi,” She said firmly.

Her head and hips moved at the same time, “Gonna be so good for you, Paige.” She nodded.

Any other day, she’d be mortified by how much it sounded like a whine, but not tonight.

“Good,” Paige smirked. “I just want you to relax and feel.”

Azzi tried to sit up a little, “But it’s your birthday!”

Paige placed a warm palm in the center of her chest and gently pushed her back down.

“Yeah, it is my birthday.” She said. “And for my birthday, I want to make my girl cum. I want to fuck you until you cry. That’s all I want tonight.”

Her words were a stark contrast to the gentleness she used to brush curls out of Azzi’s face.

“You said I could do whatever I want. So you’re gonna be good and let me fuck you, alright baby?”

Azzi nodded, lips parted. She lay sprawled across Paige’s bed, silent. She let herself be looked at like she was art..

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Azzi.” Paige whispered reverently.

She kissed her again. Slower this time, even filthier than before. Her tongue licked deep, teeth grazed her bottom lip. Azzi’s hips lifted off the bed, her body begging for more.

Paige didn’t answer her whimpers and pleas with words. She kissed down her body, licking from her jaw to her sternum to her belly, leaving a shiny trail in her wake.

Her hand came up to cup Azzi’s breast gently, “You gonna let me take this off, baby?” She murmured.

“Please, Paige.” Azzi gasped, breath picking up.

But Paige didn’t listen. She wrapped her lips around a lace-covered nipple and sucked hard.

Azzi cried out, hips jolting up again. Paige grinned around the fabric.

“Okay, baby.” She said. Azzi wanted to cheer at her finally unhooking the bra, slipping it down her arms, and tossing it aside.

Azzi didn’t have time to catch her breath before Paige’s mouth was on her again, hot and wet. Her tongue swirled around one nipple, while her hand pinched and pulled at the other.

She moaned louder, thighs rubbing together, desperate for attention.

“Be patient,” Paige warned. “I promise it’ll be worth it.”

She kissed down her torso, tongue flicking at the dangling jewelry. She sucked a bruise into her hipbone, just above the lace edge of her panties.

Paige looked up, blue eyes dark with lust. “You want these off?”

Azzi moaned at the lips brushing against her skin and nodded, “Yes, please.”

Paige slid them down slowly, keeping her eyes locked on Azzi’s.

The brunette gasped as the cool air brushed over her warm center.

“Be still, Az. Be good for me.” Paige rasped.

Her mouth watered as she stared at the wet apex of Azzi’s thighs.

“Fuck, Azzi. You’re dripping for me.” She groaned at the sight of her — spread open, soaked, trembling already.

Paige had planned on teasing her a bit more, but Azzi looked like everything she’d been praying for since high school. She couldn’t wait any longer.

She planted a soft kiss at her clit, pulling back a little when Azzi’s hips lifted involuntarily.

“Fuck, please,” Azzi gasped.

Paige licked her lips, groaning at the taste. “Be still,” She repeated firmly.

She licked up her slit slowly, eyes rolling back at the taste. Then she couldn’t stop. Her mouth wrapped around Azzi’s clit like it belonged there.

Paige licked again, slower this time, tongue flat and firm.

A cry fell out from Azzi’s perfect lips.

“You taste so fucking good, baby.” She groaned, tongue dipping into the wet hole. She licked back up to her clit, tongue swirling around the bundle of nerves. Sucking, kissing, and licking harder as Azzi cried out.

She sucked until thighs shook under her hands. Azzi came fast, sob tearing from her throat, hips thrusting uncontrollably.

She pulled off, kissing her thighs and hips, pressing praise into her skin.

“You did so good for me, baby.”

“I knew you’d be perfect.”

“You taste so good, Az. Everything I could ever want.”

When tanned thighs stopped shaking, Paige pulled one over her shoulder and pressed the other wide. She dove back in, tongue relentless.

Azzi arched off the bed, trying to move away from the warm mouth. “Paige, I – I – please, I – fuck. Paige! I can’t,” She begged.

Paige pulled back, “You said whatever I want.” She licked into her. “You can.”

Azzi writhed and babbled, pleas incoherent.

“You’re gonna cum again for me, Azzi. You’re gonna be good for me,” She said, dragging her fingers up and down her slit.

“Please.” Azzi cried out, tears welling in her eyes.

Two fingers slid in easily, the slide easy after the first orgasm. She moaned loudly, hips lifting at the overstimulation.

“Cum for me again, baby. Be good for me,” Paige rasped against her clit, vibrations making wet walls clench around her fingers.

It took three curls and two more sucks for Azzi to shatter again. This time, Paige could hear her tears as she went over the edge.

“Paige — fuck, too much, I can’t — I can’t —” Azzi babbled, her hips bucking wildly.

She let the woman ride her orgasm out as she thrusted her fingers slowly,

Paige withdrew her fingers gently, wanting to lick back into her messy center. Instead, she kissed up Azzi’s trembling body.

“You taste so fucking good, baby.” She groaned, bringing her wet fingers to Azzi’s lips. “Wanna taste?”

Azzi nodded, curls falling against flushed cheeks, mouth dropping open.

Paige groaned loudly as Azzi wrapped her lips around the digits. She ground down on the caramel thigh involuntarily.

“Can you give me one more?” Paige begged, forehead pressed into Azzi’s cheek. “Wanna feel you fall apart on me while I cum with you.”

Azzi whimpered, core clenching. “Uh huh,” She whined.

“Thank you, Azzi. You’re so fucking perfect for me.” Paige scrambled to pull off the rest of her clothes.

She pulled Azzi’s leg high on top of her shoulder, slotting a leg between hers. Paige aligned their cores and ground down.

Loud moans escaped them both.

“Shit, baby, I’m not gonna last.” Paige groaned, leaning down. She hadn’t felt like she was going to cum this fast ever. But she needed Azzi to fall apart before she did.

She kissed at the tears falling into Azzi’s hair and pulled back. She brushed the curls out of her face. She interlaced their fingers, touching leaning closer until their foreheads touched.

Paige’s gaze locked onto wet eyes as she moved her hips again. Their bodies slid together perfectly. Each thrust was hot and slick. Paige rolled her hips hard and deep, grinding into Azzi with precision that bordered on cruel.

Azzi’s grip tightened, moaning so loudly Paige thought she might scream. Brown eyes rolled back as she shattered.

Paige gasped, staring at the woman beneath her.

“Fuck, I lo – Paige!” Azzi sobbed.

Paige’s hips stuttered as her own orgasm crashed over through her, hips bucking against Azzi.

After she felt like she could breathe again, Paige rolled over and pulled the sobbing girl to her chest.

“Shh,” She whispered into her hair. “You were so good for me, baby. So good.” Paige spoke praises into her hair until she stopped shaking.

Azzi was quiet, dazed, eyes still unfocused.

She whimpered when Paige started to pull away.

“Need to clean you up, baby.” The blonde said lowly.

Azzi just wrapped her arms around the blonde tighter.

Paige lifted her on shaky legs and walked them to the bathroom. She spread a towel on the counter so the marble wouldn’t be too cold on Azzi’s skin.

She gently dragged a warm washcloth through both of their centers. A quiet apology when Azzi hissed with sensitivity.

“You okay, Azzi?” Paige said, cupping her cheeks so the brunette could see her.

Azzi’s cheeks were flushed when she smiled at Paige tiredly. “I’m perfect, just a little floaty.” She opened her arms.

“You were perfect, Azzi. Thank you.” Paige said, walking into her embrace.

Azzi tucked her face into Paige’s neck. “I’ve never felt that safe with someone.”

“That’s all I ever want you to feel. Safe, happy, and loved.” Paige pressed a long kiss to her shoulder.

This time, Azzi’s hands cupped Paige’s cheeks. “I love you.” She smiled softly. “That’s not post nut clarity either,” She giggled. “I’m so in love with you, Paige.”

Blue eyes shined with joy and a soft smile graced Paige’s face. “And I love you, Azzi Fudd.”

They fell asleep tangled together, soft and satisfied and full of everything they never thought they’d get the chance to have.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Azzi wanted to cry when her alarm went off the following morning, but the dread was short lived when she remembered they’d be going on vacation today.

She tried to sit up, but she was pulled back down by the arm around her waist.

“Go back to sleep,” Paige grumbled.

Azzi turned in her arms with a pout. “But we have to get ready before Soleil gets back. And we can’t miss our flight; I spent a lot of money on that.”

The blonde head popped up, eyes squinted. “Exactly how much money did you spend on my birthday, Azzi?”

“Um,” She started. Azzi knew she wasn’t supposed to mention anything about money. She figured that Paige wouldn’t even think about money after they’d had sex. And she didn’t. Not until Azzi opened her big fat mouth. “I don’t know. Let’s go get ready, Paige.” She rushed, trying to get out of bed.

Paige’s grip tightened as she rolled to hover over her girlfriend. “Nah, I don’t believe that. But that’s okay, I’ll find out.” She dipped to kiss at her neck. “And I’ll double it since you don’t want to tell me.” She finished, biting her ear.

“About twenty-eight thousand.” Azzi gasped. Paige froze above her, and Azzi rushed to explain herself. “The Louis fit was expensive, and I covered everyone last night. And then the last-minute flights, the VRBO, and the activities in Aspen.”

Paige pulled away, rolling out of the bed. Azzi gasped as the cool air settled over her nude form.

“We can talk about this in the shower. We’re not missing that flight.” Paige tossed over her shoulder.

Azzi trailed her into the bathroom on shaky legs. “Are you mad at me?” She questioned. She leaned against the doorway, watching the muscles in Paige’s back move as got the shower ready.

“No,” the blonde sighed. “I just wasn’t expecting that. It’s almost all of the money I’ve paid you.”

They stepped under the warm water together, Azzi wrapping her arms around Paige’s back. “Yeah, but you do so much for everybody. You’ve done so much for me. I just wanted to make you feel as special as you make me feel.”

“That’s okay,” Paige said, smirking. “I’m gonna make sure you feel exactly how much I appreciate you.”

Large hands trailed down tanned skin before she was stopped. “My legs are still a little shaky, P.”

“I’ll carry you through the airport if I have to, baby.” Paige chuckled, moving to grab the shampoo.

Azzi let her girlfriend wash her hair as they stood under the warm stream. “I like when you call me that.” She muttered.

“What, baby?” Paige questioned. She smiled at Azzi’s shy nod. “What else? You like babygirl too?” Shrug. “What about angel?” A nod. “Pretty girl? Sweetheart?”

“Yes to both.” She replied, cheeks warm. “I don’t hate any of them.”

Paige pulled her into a soft kiss. “Noted, babygirl.”

“Well, what do you wanna be called? Mommy? Daddy?” Azzi teased.

The smiled dropped off Paige’s face quickly. “Soleil calls me Mommy, Az. And fuck no to daddy.”

“What about love?” Azzi smiled softly. “Or ma’am?” She paused. “Oooooh, or my love?”

Paige nodded, “Those are all fine.” She breathed.

They rinsed and dried off quickly. Azzi pulled on a pair of Paige’s boxers and a t-shirt before going down to her place to get the matching sweatsuits she bought to wear to the airport.

The lilac sweatshirts had a white PSA stitched on the cuff for a sentimental touch. She made sure each of them had socks to wear with their purple Crocs before heading back upstairs.

Azzi was greeted with a squeal. “Azzi! Mommy said we gonna go on a aiwplane today!”

“Yeah, baby!” Azzi exclaimed, matching the girl’s energy. “I even brought us matching outfits for the plane!”

Soleil gasped, just as elated as Azzi knew she’d be. “Lemme see, lemme see!” She bounced.

After she pulled her clothes on, Soleil ran to her mother. “Mommy, look! P, S, and A!”

“Yeah, for Paige, Soleil, and Azzi,” She responded, gesturing to each of them. She grinned at Azzi. “Our little family.”

The brunette grinned back at her girlfriend – they really were the perfect little family.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

The trio was complemented the entire day.

First by Morgan when she came to drop them off at the airport.

Then by two TSA agents at Chicago-O’Hare.

The cashier from the terminal shop flirted with Paige until Soleil and Azzi came up behind her, dropping chips, candy, and slim jims on the counter. Then, the young woman melted. “You have the most beautiful family. Like your wife and your kid? Geez.”

There were a few people sneering at them – two of them had on those disgusting red hats. Paige planted a firm kiss on Azzi’s lips just to spite them.

They read a few books while they waited for boarding to start.

“First class?” Paige’s eyes widened.

Azzi’s brows furrowed, “You mean to tell me that you, Paige Bueckers, fly economy?”

The blonde scoffed. “Absolutely not. I have a plane, Azzi.”

“What? Was I supposed to reserve your plane or something?”

Paige just raised a brow in response.

“How am I supposed to know how to charter a plane?” She questioned.

“I figured the girls would’ve told you!” Paige exclaimed.

Azzi rolled her eyes playfully. “They didn’t know. It was all a surprise. Well Jana knew we were going somewhere, but she didn’t know everything.”

“Well, I’ll send you the information, so you don’t have to do this next time.” Paige leaned in, pecking her lips.

Despite ensuring that Soleil had her own pod, she didn’t actually use it outside of takeoff and landing. She bounced between Azzi and Paige, pulling a different activity from her carryon each time.

Her nose was pressed to the window as the descent started. “Look, Mommy! Mountains! With snow!”

A driver was waiting outside of baggage claim with “Bueckers Family” written in thick print. And even though Azzi arranged their transportation, she gasped, realizing she really was in the family.

Though the thought filled her with warmth, there was still a part of her heart that mourned the distance she had with her family. She missed them.

Paige looked at her, concern clear on her face.

Azzi just shook her head and smiled warmly.

The ride to their reservation passed quickly.

Pierre, the driver, pointed out a few restaurants that were kid-friendly and some others that were more for romance. He drove past the ski resort where most of their activities would be before driving a few minutes to drop them off at the cabin.

The house was nice. Too much wood for Azzi to live in forever, but just enough to feel warm for a week-long cabin trip. Soleil was ecstatic to see a hot tub out back, and Paige looked at Azzi with a smirk about the same feature.

Wiped from the day of travel and last night’s activities, the trio ate dinner and piled into the bed together.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

The skiing trip was going well.

On Tuesday, they went into town to find a ski suits for their lessons the following day. Azzi took a million pictures of Soleil in different patterned suits. She had her favorite – the light pink one with sparkles – but Soleil had the final say. The definitely wouldn’t be able to lose sight of the girl in a rainbow tie-dye snowsuit.

They spent the rest of the day in the city, staying cozy and bonding. Azzi watched as Paige read book after book in the library until Soleil fell asleep in her lap. They walked around the center, grabbing a coffee while they waited for Soleil to wake up.

They enjoyed perfectly. crisped grilled cheese sandwiches and a soup bar at a tavern in town. Soleil ate very carefully, not wanting tomato soup dripping onto her sand-colored sweater.

A local took a picture of them in front of the restaurant. Soleil’s cheeks were rosy from the wind, but she showed all of her teeth as she grinned for the photo. Azzi’s smile was soft, warm as she adjusted the earmuffs on little girl’s head. And Paige just looked at the two of them with so much love that it could be felt through the screen. Maybe one day they’d be mad that they didn’t get a picture where each person was looking, but for now, it was perfect.

On Wednesday, the trio had ski lessons.

Well, Soleil and Azzi had ski lessons. Apparently Paige was already a pro, despite only going skiing once before.

The city had gotten fresh snow the night before. It was fine and glittering, softly crushing with each step. It was the kind of weather people fantasized about when they thought of a ski trip.

The ski class would have been great if Paige didn’t spend the entirety of it distracting Azzi, which then caused Soleil to keep looking back at them and giggling.

“You’re going to teach her on your own then, since you couldn’t let us just learn.” Azzi pouted during lunch.

An hour later, Paige knelt in front of Soleil. They were at the Fawn Slope, one of the easiest for small children. She took great care adjusting her daughter’s sparkly pink helmet and mittens.

Azzi stood a few feet away, wanting to take pictures, but content to stay bundled with her hot chocolate.

“Mommy, it’s all squishy.” Soleil giggled, poking her gloves against her stomach.

Paige grinned, “Yeah, Sunshine. It’ll keep you safe if you fall, like falling on a pillow.”

Azzi moved closer to the bunch as Paige strapped the little boots to the skis.

“You ready, Lei?” She questioned.

Soleil nodded fiercely. “I’m gonna fly!”

Paige giggled, pulling the cover over her nose and the goggles over her eyes. Azzi gasped at how real it became.

“What’s wrong?” Paige called over her shoulder.

Azzi forced herself to relax, sound casual. “Are we sure she won’t launch herself into a tree?”

Paige rose, dusting the snow off her pants.

“Nah, she’ll be fine. Slope’s not too bad, and I’ll be right beside her.”

Azzi nodded, heart in her throat.

Soleil shuffled toward the edge of the gentle slope, skis awkward and much too wide.

Azzi pulled her phone out, recording Paige crouching nearby, grinning and shouting encouragement.

She continued to record short clips, breath catching every time she went down, and sighing in relief when she popped up.

“Ready to try by yourself, Sunshine?” Paige urged.

Azzi stood straighter, looking to see Soleil’s answer. She wanted the girl to be brave and fearless, excited to conquer the slope. But at the same time, she wanted her wrapped in bubble wrap, where she’d be safe.

“Yeah, Mommy!” She nodded firmly.

Soleil trudged back to the top of the slope. Leaving her mom to wait for her at the bottom.

Then she pushed off.

She glided slowly at first, knees bent, skis closer together.

Azzi held her breath.

She reached out in vain when Soleil wobbled a bit.

She made it all the way down the track. A short ten-second run that felt like ten minutes to Azzi.

Paige let out a loud whoop, picking Soleil up and spinning her around.

Azzi was running towards them without even knowing it, smile stretched wide across her face.

Soleil’s giggles filled the air around them. She turned to Azzi with the biggest grin. “MAMA DID YOU SEE ME?! I DID IT!”

Soleil’s voice rang out like a bell, pure and proud.

Mama.

Azzi blinked. Just once. The word echoed in her skull, again and again, until it wasn’t just a sound, it was a truth.

Paige reached out with her free arm, bringing her into their embrace.

Azzi’s brown eyes were glassy as she pulled the face covering off and planted a kiss right on Soleil’s cheek. “Yeah, of course I saw you, Sunny Girl. You were amazing!”

When they got back to the cabin a little later, Soleil was starfished on top of Azzi, napping in front of the fireplace.

Paige dropped down next to her two favorite people with hot chocolate.

“I didn’t tell her to do it, but I’ve been waiting for her to call you that. Wanting her to call you that.” She said, eyes locked on her daughter.

Azzi blinked, eyes misty again. “Me too, I just…I didn’t want to overstep. Feel like we haven’t really talked about it.” She paused. “I know I’m not – I know she’s not mine.”

Paige grabbed her hand, running her thumb across her knuckles. “Maybe not legally, but in every way that matters.” She kissed Azzi’s forehead firmly. “We can work on that though, if you want.”

“I know I’m not supposed to think like this, but you haven’t made me a list this week, so technically, I’m not breaking any rules.” She swallowed. “I just don’t wanna fuck anything up. I’m so scared that something’s gonna happen, and she’ll be the one that gets hurt the most.”

The crease in the middle of Paige’s forehead deepened, and she didn’t say anything.

“Well,” She started after a few minutes. “Even if something happened between us. God forbid, if we didn’t work out, you’d still want to be in her life – still want to be her Mama, right?” She questioned.

“Of course,” Azzi replied. She didn’t need to think to know that. “Not unless you didn’t want me to.”

Paige smiled softly. “Okay, so no matter what happens, you’re her Mama. You’ll always be her Mama.”

This time, when Azzi exhaled, all the tightness in her chest evaporated.

And for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t afraid.

She just lay there — Soleil snuggled on top of her, Paige curled at her side – holding her daughter, next to the love of her life.

Her family.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

On Friday, the night before they were set to return to Chicago, they had a Halloween movie marathon. Halfway through Halloweentown, Paige whispered in Azzi’s ear. “Hot tub after she goes to sleep?”

They had spent time in the hot tub every day since they got to Aspen, but Soleil was always there with them. Which the loved! Any time spent as a family was cherished by both women, but warmth and anticipation flooded Azzi’s system as she nodded at the idea.

Hours later, after Soleil was tucked in and drooling, Paige waited in the hot tub.

Steam curled around her bare shoulders as she sank into the hot tub, the mountain air crisp against her flushed skin. She watched the snowflakes as they floated down, melting before they could get close to the water.

Her head popped up at the sound of the patio door sliding opened.

Azzi was in her favorite color again. The lavender bikini had a cutout on the bottom of the top, her under boob on display.

Paige’s mouth was already watering. Her eyes dragged across Azzi’s body as she climbed in to sit next to her.

They spent the next couple of minutes in silence, eyes watching the steam vanish into the sky.

“You warm enough?” Paige asked, voice low.

Azzi nodded slowly, lips parted. She was content to admire the woman next to her. She traced the slope of her nose, the slight pout of her lips, the texture on her cheeks. Every inch of Paige Bueckers was perfect.

“You’re quiet,” Paige turned to her.

She blinked a bit, snapping out of her Paige-induced trance. “Just looking at you.” She felt her cheeks flush, not from the heat.

The corners of Paige’s lips twitched. “Yeah? What do you see, baby?”

Azzi inhaled sharply and shifted. Her hands settled on Paige’s waits, fingers tracing slow circles against the warm skin.

“I see…” She whispered nervously. “I see everything I want.”

The next second, Paige closed the distance, licking Azzi’s mouth open. The kiss was slow and all-consuming, warm from the heat and the tension. Azzi moaned softly, leaning in, hands running up Paige’s back.

Water sloshed over the edge of the hot tub as Paige pulled Azzi onto her lap, thighs instantly sliding apart. Azzi straddled her, lips trailing down to her jaw. She sucked a mark into the base of her neck as Paige palmed her ass roughly.

The blonde let one hand move up her back, landing in her curls and pulling softly. Azzi moaned into the kiss, pushing her body in even closer.

Paige pushed her hips up while guiding Azzi’s down, the friction eliciting a quiet gasp from the older woman. The motion was subtle but deliberate.

“Want you,” Azzi moaned against her lips.

Paige’s voice was just as wrecked. “Then take me, babygirl.”

Azzi reached behind the woman to unclasp the bikini top before getting frustrated and roughly pushing it over her head with a grunt. Her hands cupped the small mounds reverently, thumbs brushing over pink nipples.

Paige groaned again, pulling Azzi’s hips down again. “Fuck, Azzi.”

She dipped her head, tongue flattening against the stiff peak. Swirling in a slow, deliberate motion while the other was rolled between her fingers.

Paige’s hand tangled in tight curls. “You’re driving me crazy, angel.” She murmured, breath hitching.

“I wanna make you cum,” She pulled away with a pop.

“Yeah?” Paige said, pupils blown. “You will, but I haven’t even started with you yet.”

Before Azzi could say anything, a large hand slipped beneath those tiny bikini bottoms. Paige grinned at the slickness she found. Azzi cried out softly, hips bucking against the two fingers against her folds.

“Mmm, you’re so wet for me already.” She whispered, breath hot against Azzi’s skin. “You’re dripping, and I hadn’t even touched you yet.”

Azzi moaned at her words. Sweet sounds turned into a gasp as Paige bit her neck.

“All this from a little heat and bubbles,” She teased, soothing the bite with her tongue.

Azzi bit her lip, head titling to the side to give Paige more space. “No.” She whined. “All this from you.”

Paige kissed her again, rougher now, tongue demanding, mouth desperate. She thrust her fingers slowly, just two at first. Moving slowly to give her time to adjust, curling only after feeling Azzi tighten.

She moaned, rocking into her roughly, tucking her face into Paige’s neck and holding tightly to her shoulders.

“You’re such a good girl, sweetheart.” Paige rasped. “Just like that, baby. Take what you need.”

Azzi nodded, “Yes, ma’am.” She swallowed. “Oh, fuck. I’m gonna cum.”

Paige brought her thumb up to her clit. It took two, maybe three swipes. Azzi’s vision blurred as she came with a choked gasp, trembling in Paige’s lap.

Her balance was unsteady as she stood, pulling Paige up with her. “Want you in the bed.” She muttered.

Paige grabbed her bathing suit top, rushing in behind her girlfriend.

Azzi was standing in front of the fireplace, situating blankets in front of the flames.

“What are you doing, Az?” Paige chuckled, coming behind her.

Azzi looked over her shoulder. “Don’t wanna get the bed wet, and I don’t wanna be cold.”

She yanked Paige down and rolled on top of her.

“It’s my turn now.” Hands already moving to Paige’s blue bottoms.

A pale hand reached out to grab her wrist firmly. “I think you’re forgetting who is in charge here.” She said with a smirk.

Azzi’s shoulders dropped in disappointment. “But you said I could be next.”

“You are.” She said, cupping her chin, forcing eye contact. “But you’re all keyed up. Relax a little.”

“I’ve never done this before,” Azzi whispered, pulling at one of the threads. “Not with a woman.”

Paige leaned back until she was flat against the covers. “You do what feels right, okay?” She started. “I’ll help you if you need it. But I love you, Azzi. Anything that you do will be enough, I promise.”

The brunette still looked a little nervous, so Paige spoke again. “Can you take your bathing suit off?” She asked lowly, already reaching for her own bottoms.

“God, you’re so beautiful, angel.” She whispered, getting wetter with every inch of skin Azzi showed her.

The brunette sat on her heels, eyes wide with uncertainty.

“Now, you’re in charge sweetheart.” She started. “You can kiss, you can suck, you can lick. Whatever you want baby.”

Azzi knelt between pale legs. “And you’ll tell me if you don’t like it?”

“I promise.”

Azzi brought her face closer, nose brushing against sticky skin. She breathed in, pressing a kiss into one thigh, licking the other.

The taste wasn’t bad. Much different from the bitterness she’d experienced before, not a bad different…just different.

She kissed her way up each thigh, pausing at Paige’s gasp.

“You’re doing good baby,” She smiled. “Just teasing a little.”

The smile sent warmth all throughout Azzi’s body. With a little more confidence, she trailed kissed up each of lips before reaching the apex.

She licked her lips and kissed the soft, swollen heat between her thighs. “Fuck, Azzi.” Paige groaned, hips bucking into her face.

One hand reached up the spread her lips. “You’re so pretty, Paige.” She said, breath warm against the wetness.

She leaned in, tongue dragged through the sticky heat. “Shit, baby.” Paige moaned.

Azzi watched her hole tighten and she dipped down the catch the drop before it could slide down. She moaned against the wet heat at the taste of her girlfriend. Her tongue flicked against the opening, eager to taste more of the girl she loved.

“You feel so good, angel. You’re doing so good for me.” The blonde rambled.

Azzi’s hips twitched at the praise, her own hand circling her clit. She whimpered into Paige.

The vibrations moved through her core, “Fuck, just like that, baby.” She groaned, tossing her head back.

Azzi’s tongue slithered up to Paige’s clit. She licked the sensitive nub softly, mouth following as her hips bucked.

“Oh my – Azzi.” Paige moaned. “Keep going, just like that.” She rode her face, pushing her hips further into her mouth.

Azzi wrapped her lips around Paige’s clit and sucked.

Paige came. Hard.

She didn’t have words, just gasps.

Azzi’s tongue darted back to drink down Paige’s release greedily. Her tongue ran up and down the slit until Paige pulled her face away.

She pulled Azzi up and licked into her mouth. “You were fucking perfect, baby.”

Azzi had a dazed smile on her lips, but that didn’t last long. Her jaw dropped as Paige sucked on the fingers she’d been using on herself.

“Did eating me make you all sloppy and wet?” Paige’s tone was teasing, and Azzi couldn’t help but pout at the thought of her ruined orgasm.

Paige leaned back again, legs spread wide. “Oh, my poor baby, just needs to cum.” She pulled Azzi into her lap. “When we get back, gotta fuck you with my strap, gonna make you ride it. But today, you’re just gonna ride me, okay?”

Azzi nodded, still in a daze, but eager to please Paige and finish.

The strong hands on her hips guided her into place. Azzi pushed down a little, throwing her head back at the sensation.

Their slick centers met, warm and pulsing, friction building with every slow roll of their hips. Paige’s hips rolling slowly, creating the best friction. Azzi whimpered as Paige gripped her ass, encouraging her to move above her.

They moved together, fast and a little sloppy.

Azzi threw her head back in ecstasy as Paige’s hand came up to pluck at her nipple.

“No,” Paige said firmly. “Eyes on me. Looks who’s making you feel like this.”

She nodded, eyes still dazed. Her hips sped up as she chased her orgasm. “Fuck, I love you.”

“Yeah?” Paige sat up, pressing their foreheads together.

The movement changed the angle, and they were both bucking against thighs. Azzi’s moans were high, but quiet as Paige breathed heavily in her ear.

“Come on, love. Cum with me.”

Azzi nodded, breath stuttering in her chest.

Their orgasms hit like waves, overlapping and pulling them under. Azzi tried to keep her eyes on Paige, wanting to see how beautiful she was when. She came, but her eyes rolled into her head.

The only sound was their breathing, synced and heavy, surrounded by the low crackle of the fire. Paige’s hand found Azzi’s, fingers curling tight. “You’re mine,” she whispered against her temple.

Azzi didn’t reply. She didn’t need to. She just smiled into Paige’s shoulder, body limp, heart wide open.

They stayed like that, tangled in skin and love, warm in every possible way.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

A/N: I might turn my anons on. I miss seeing y'all react to chapters, and I feel like less people are sending things in. But if those kinds of messages are sent in, I'm gonna have to delete my account 😭 So please remember to be kind :) Love you guys!!!

[heestruck]

BAD DESIRE ; Lee Heeseung

synopsis ; It was never meant to be more than a secret. But between late night kisses, and everything they never said, she fell harder than she should have. And he let her. Now they’re both left chasing something that was never built to last.

In which y/n and heeseung's paths probably shouldn't have collided. with his raging addiction, and her undying love for him, they navigate their way through a love that was never meant to last... or was it?

pairing ; student!fem reader x addict!heeseung

genre ; smut, angst

warnings ; drug use, and lots of it, heeseung using, reader smoking/attempting to use, emotional abuse, lying, kinda cheating if you squint, gaslighting, p in v smut, pet names, virgin reader, inexperienced reader, degrading, praise, unprotected sex (be safe pls), oral fem rec, like... kinda breeding kink, heeseungs lowkey possessive, heeseung is lowkey manipulative, reader is really naive, slight drug glorification, heeseung and reader kinda don't like each other at first, arguing, heeseungs a major asshat, they yell at each other sometimes, very will they wont they/back and forth, like I cannot stress how much heeseung is in the wrong here, let me know if i'm missing anything

do not read if any of this makes you uncomfortable. minors do not interact. !!! there is a lot of heavy themes in this fic, so please read the warnings carefully before reading.

I also CANNOT stress enough that this is purely a work of fiction, this story does not reflect against the real Lee Heeseung.

wc ; 22k 

read below the cut!

The lecture hall hums with quiet conversation as your professor’s voice fades into the background, the final slide of the presentation still glowing on the screen. You close your notebook with a soft snap, already organizing your mental to-do list for the night: finish your reading for psych, review your flashcards, maybe rewrite your biochem notes. 

As always, you're the first to have everything packed and neat, your pens color-coded, your planner tucked under your arm. “God, y/n, you’re like a walking academic weapon,” a voice teases from your right. You glance up to see Nina, your roommate, tossing her long curls over one shoulder as she stuffs her laptop into her bag. “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” you smile, slinging your tote over your shoulder.

“It is a bad thing,” she says, widening her eyes playfully. “You need to touch grass, or at least touch a vodka cran.” You laugh, shaking your head, but she’s already leaning closer with a mischievous look on her face. “There’s a party tonight off-campus. A few of our friends are going, Kira, Wren, Koda, just a chill thing. Music, drinks, maybe a little dancing.” She nudges your arm. “You in?”

Normally, you’d say no. You’ve turned down more party invites than you can count. But something in Nina’s tone, or maybe the way the late afternoon sun filters through the windows and paints the classroom in gold, makes you pause. You think about the endless cycle of lectures and labs. The four color-coded exam prep calendars on your wall. The silence of your room after everyone else has gone out.

“Yeah,” you say, surprising even yourself. “Why not?” Nina’s mouth drops open in mock shock. “Who are you and what have you done with my roommate? I didn’t even have to get on my knees and beg!” You just laugh again, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m not promising anything wild. I’ll come, I’ll dance, I’ll hydrate. That’s it.”

“Perfect,” she grins, grabbing your arm as you walk toward the exit. “You’re going to look so cute. Don’t worry, I already know exactly what you’re wearing.”

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

The bass hits before you even step inside.

The house is already pulsing with bodies and strobing lights. Smelling like cheap beer, too much cologne, and the unmistakable scent of a college party deep in its prime. Mina’s got a hand wrapped around your wrist, guiding you through the crowd like she’s on a mission, her glossy lips already curved in excitement. “You look so good,” she says over her shoulder, practically yelling. “Like, who is she good.”

You tug your jacket tighter with a small smile. It’s not nerves, you’re just not used to feeling like this. Not used to the way the black ripped jeans hug your legs, the way your fitted crop top clings to your frame. Hair down, just enough effort to look like you didn’t try at all. The moment you step into the living room, the lights flashing soft pinks and purples, a voice cuts through the chaos. “Y/N! Oh my god, babe, look at you!” Wren comes flying toward you with open arms, all bright eyes and glittery eyeshadow, wrapping you in a one-armed hug while still balancing a red Solo cup. “You look so hot,” she says, already pulling back to get a full look at you. “Like, I’d kiss you hot.”

“Same,” Kira calls from the couch, where she’s sitting sideways in someone’s lap like she owns the place. “You’re giving mysterious bad bitch and I’m obsessed.” “Seriously,” adds Koda, who’s perched on the edge of the kitchen counter, swinging her legs and sipping some blue drink out of a mason jar. “If I saw you walk into a party and didn’t know you? I’d be too intimidated to talk to you.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re all ridiculous.” “And you’re stunning,” Mina says, giving your waist a quick squeeze. “Now, drinks?” As if on cue, Wren jumps up and heads toward the makeshift bar set up in the kitchen. “We’ve got vodka, tequila, mystery punch… ooh, and something that tastes like peach rings.”

“I’ll just do water,” you say quickly, holding up a hand. “I’m good.”

Four pairs of eyes snap to you in unison. “Y/N,” Kira says, scandalized. “You wore that top and came to this party and think you’re getting away with water?” Koda laughs. “Girl, you agreed to come. That means at least one fun drink.”

Mina reappears with a bottle of something pink and barely fizzy, holding it out to you. “Light. Not even strong. You’ll barely taste it. It’s like a Capri Sun.” You hesitate, but only for a second. The bottle is cold in your hand, the condensation slick on your fingers. One sip won’t hurt. It tastes like candy. Sweet and a little fake. Easy. “There she goes,” Wren says, raising her cup.

“You’re officially fun now,” Kira adds, looping her arm through yours. The music shifts, bass vibrating in your chest. Someone yells something in the next room. Outside, people are already spilling onto the porch, drinks and laughter echoing into the night. You feel it in your skin, that slow buzz of being alive, being here, with the girls who make everything feel lighter.

But you still feel an unsettling feeling creep up the back of your neck. Maybe because you don’t notice the eyes watching you from across the room.

Not yet.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

The bathroom reeks of bleach, stale smoke, and whatever cheap cologne the guy before them doused himself in. Heeseung wipes his nose with the back of his hand, sniffing once, slow and deep. The burn is already fading, replaced with the familiar clarity and a weightless buzz under his skin.

Outside the door, the music thrums like a second heartbeat. Sunghoon leans against the wall, arms crossed, a lazy smirk on his lips. “You know one day your brain’s gonna just leak out your nose, right?” Heeseung shrugs, eyes half-lidded. “Better out than rotting in there.” Jay laughs, pulling the door open to let the sound of the party spill in again. “You two sound like you’ve had this conversation before.” There’s a pause as the two exchange a glance. “We have,” Sunghoon says. “Every time he does something dumb.” His words accompanied by an eye-roll that comes to him naturally, “Which is often,” Heeseung adds with a grin, snagging the cigarette tucked behind Sunghoon’s ear and lighting it like it’s his.

They step out, smoke trailing behind them, the heat and noise of the party rushing in all at once. Heeseung’s eyes flick lazily over the crowd, bodies pressed too close, red cups in every hand, neon lights catching on sequins and sweat. Sunghoon elbows him. “You gonna dance tonight, or just brood in the corner like Batman again?” “I’ll dance when hell freezes and you get laid,” Heeseung mutters, exhaling smoke through his nose. “Ouch,” Sunghoon says with a mock wince. “Low blow. Even for you.”

Jay doesn’t laugh.

He’s staring at something, no, someone. Eyes locked across the room, jaw slightly slack, like he forgot how to act. Heeseung catches it immediately. “Dude,” he says flatly. “You good?” Jay doesn’t respond, causing Heeseung to follow his gaze. She’s standing with a group of girls near the kitchen, laughing at something, her drink cradled in one hand. Her hair catches the light, eyes wide and sparkling in that way that’s too fucking pure for this place. Black jeans. Black top. Sweet face, too clean for the party grit.

Heeseung rolls his eyes. “Jesus Christ, stop staring at her like a fucking perv.” Jay finally snaps out of it. “She’s just… I don’t know, man. She’s got-”

“What?” Heeseung cuts in, tone biting. “That good girl trying to be bad energy? The innocent preppy type who probably says ‘sorry’ when she bumps into furniture?” Sunghoon snorts. Jay shrugs, unfazed. “She’s cute.”

“She’s boring,” Heeseung says immediately, taking another drag. “Can already tell. Probably straight-A’s, runs on caffeine and validation, thinks this party is some edgy detour in her perfect little life plan.”

“You got all that from one look?” Sunghoon raises a brow. “I’ve seen that type before,” Heeseung mutters. “They don’t stay.” Jay watches her again. “Still wouldn’t mind finding out.” Heeseung doesn’t reply, but his eyes linger just a little too long this time. Something about her smile makes him twitch. Like she doesn’t belong here, and for some reason, that pisses him off more than anything else.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

You’re laughing as Wren spins you around, both of you stumbling through a fit of giggles. The music’s loud, the floor slightly sticky under your shoes, and the lights paint everything in neon. It’s the first party you’ve let yourself really enjoy in... well, ever. Koda hands you another drink, something sugary, and you take a cautious sip before letting yourself be pulled back into the small crowd of dancers.

You move with Kira and Wren, arms thrown around each other’s shoulders, swaying to the beat. It’s easy to forget the stress of deadlines and grades here, wrapped in the warmth of your friends and the hazy buzz of the night.

“Dude, you’ve been staring at her for like ten minutes,” Heeseung mutters, leaning against the wall, eyes following the glow of the neon lights. “What, you suddenly into honor roll girls now?” Jay smirks, eyes still fixed on you as you laugh and twirl with your friends. “She’s just… different.” Sunghoon snorts into his drink. “Different how? She’s got two arms and two legs like everyone else.”

“She’s not like the other girls here,” Jay says, straightening a little. “She’s not sloppy, not trying to start drama. She looks like she’s actually having fun.” Heeseung scoffs. “Yeah, because she probably drank half a white claw and hit her sugar quota for the week.” Jay grins. “You’re just mad you have a type and it’s emotionally unavailable.” Sunghoon lets out a wheeze. “He’s not wrong.”

Heeseung glares at both of them. “Nah, I’m just saying, girls like her don’t come to parties like this unless it’s a pity invite. She’s not gonna go for you, Jay. Especially not with that look in your eye.”

“What look?”

“The one that says, ‘I’m trying to hit it before the night ends.’” Jay rolls his eyes. “Okay, sure, I wouldn’t mind that. But I’m not an asshole. I just wanna talk to her. She seems cool.” Sunghoon nudges Heeseung. “Translation: he wants to hit it, but he’ll settle for a couple of texts and a chance to pretend he reads books.” Heeseung exhales a laugh, tapping ash off his cigarette. “Alright, lover boy. Go shoot your shot. Just don’t cry when she says you’re not her ‘type.’” Jay ignores them both, already peeling off the wall. “You two can stay here being bitter. I’m gonna go say hi.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Heeseung mutters. “Take the rejection like a man,” Sunghoon calls after him with a grin.

You’re mid-laugh when someone steps into your circle. “Hey,” he says, smiling like he’s known you for years. “Sorry to interrupt, I just had to come over and tell you… you look amazing tonight.” You pause, blinking up at him. He’s tall, casually dressed, but something about his smile is disarming. Genuine. Your friends glance at him, then at you, smirking behind their drinks.

“Oh,” you say, caught off guard. “Thank you.”

“I’m Jay,” he offers, holding out a hand. You shake it. “Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he says smoothly. “I hope this doesn’t come off weird, but I’ve kinda been watching you and your friends for a while.” You raise a brow. “Not in a creepy way,” he adds quickly, laughing. “You just look like you’re having the best time.” You laugh, unsure how to respond. “And, you know,” he continues, “you’re kind of the most gorgeous person in this room.”

That gets your cheeks to warm. “You don’t waste any time, do you?” Jay chuckles. “Life’s short.” Then he leans in a little, voice lower. “I’m not gonna lie and pretend I don’t wanna get to know you in every sense. But I also get that it's not everyone’s vibe.” Your expression must shift, because he adds quickly, “No pressure. I just figured I’d shoot my shot.” You lift an eyebrow, but you’re smiling. “I don’t really do the hookup thing.”

Jay’s eyes flicker, disappointment, maybe, but brief. “Totally fair. In that case, I could always use a new hot friend that has killer dance moves.” That earns a soft laugh from you. “You’re smooth.”

“I try,” he says, shrugging. “So... can I still get your number? No expectations.” You nod, handing him your phone. He types quickly and hands it back, slipping his own into his pocket. “You wanna dance with us?” you ask, tipping your head toward your friends. Jay grins, “Thought you’d never ask.”

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

It’s been a couple of weeks since the party, and somehow, Jay has become a fixture in your life.

He fits weirdly well with your friends, easygoing, funny, never tries too hard. Koda teases him constantly, Wren talks music with him like they’re soulmates, and Kira insists he’s basically the sixth member of your group chat. You didn’t expect him to blend in so seamlessly, but you’ve found yourself laughing a little more since he started hanging around.

Tonight, he invited you out to a local concert. You weren’t sure at first, small venue, grungy vibe, loud music wasn’t exactly your typical scene but he promised it would be fun. Said some of his friends were going, too. You agreed, mostly because it sounded like a decent Friday night, and Jay had been nothing but good company.

You arrive with him just as the opening set’s starting, the crowd buzzing with anticipation. Jay gives your hand a brief squeeze as he pulls you through the people, heading toward a cluster of guys by the wall. “That’s them,” he says, nodding. “Heeseung and Sunghoon.”

You spot them immediately. Sunghoon is the first to notice you, his hair dark, pierced lip, leaning casually with a beer in hand. He smiles, straightening up. “Jay’s plus-one, huh?” he says, giving you a once-over, not in a sleazy way, just curious. “Nice to meet you.”

You smile, warm as ever. “You too. I’m Y/N.” Sunghoon tips his beer toward you. “Cool name.” And then your eyes drift left. And time sort of stops.

He’s leaning against the wall, one boot propped against the concrete behind him, arms crossed over his chest. Messy dark hair, sharp jawline, silver rings catching the low light. He doesn’t smile, doesn’t move. Just looks at you.

“Oh,” you say before you can help it. Jay gestures between you. “This is Heeseung.” Heeseung gives a single nod. “Hey.” His voice is low, rough around the edges. You clear your throat, suddenly self-conscious. “Nice to meet you.” He doesn’t say anything else, just holds your gaze for a second longer than necessary before looking away, like he’s already bored of you.

You blink, shaken just enough to feel it. Because he’s gorgeous. Like, unfairly gorgeous. But it’s more than that. There’s something about the way he carries himself, he seems so detached, and unreadable, like nothing really touches him, and for some reason, it sticks with you. 

The music picks up and Jay starts chatting with Sunghoon, joking about some old band they saw live. You try to focus on their banter, try to enjoy the show and for the most part, you do.

But every once in a while, your eyes drift sideways. Just quick glances. Just curiosity. You’re subtle about it, at least, you think you are. Heeseung doesn’t look at you, doesn’t smile, doesn’t even move much. Just leans there, stoic and silent like he couldn’t care less about the music or the crowd or you. But he sees it.

He catches every glance. And he doesn’t let it show, but your eyes aren’t the only ones wandering.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

The line to the bathroom is long, but thankfully it moves fast. You’re in and out within minutes, winding your way back through the dim hallway toward the venue floor when someone steps out of the crowd and cuts you off.

“Hey, pretty thing,” the guy says, reeking of beer and something sharp underneath. He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “You here alone?” You freeze. Your first instinct is to be polite, a soft no, a quick smile, excuse yourself and walk away. But when you try to step around him, he blocks your path, one hand brushing your arm. “Don’t be shy,” he adds, voice lowering. “You were lookin’ at me earlier, weren’t you?” Your stomach twists. “I wasn’t.. excuse me.”

You glance back toward the crowd, hoping maybe Jay’s nearby, or anyone, really but it’s too loud, too dark, too many bodies in the way. The guy steps closer, and suddenly your pulse is in your throat. You take a step back, but the hallway feels too narrow now, the music from the concert a distant thump behind you. You don’t know what to say and you don’t even get the chance to think of something because, suddenly, he’s being ripped away from you.

One second, the guy is looming over you. The next, he’s slammed up against the wall with a sharp thud, a hand fisting in his collar. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Heeseung growls, jaw tight with fury. Your eyes widen. The guy holds his hands up, stammering, “I-I didn’t mean anything-” Heeseung shoves him once, hard, then lets him go. “Then walk away before I mean something.” The guy bolts without another word.

And just like that, it’s quiet again aside from the music still thumping from the venue. You and Heeseung stand alone in the dim hallway, the silence heavier than it should be. Finally, he looks at you. “You good?” he asks, but the words are mechanical. No concern in his voice. Just a blunt check-in. He doesn’t soften his expression, if anything it hardens.

You nod. “Yeah… I think so. Thank you.” You expect him to walk away, but he doesn’t. Instead, he takes a slow step toward you. You feel the shift in the air like pressure behind your eyes. His eyes rake over you, not with hunger, not exactly. Almost like he’s trying to figure you out, and already doesn’t like the answer. “I don’t get it,” he mutters, almost to himself. You blink. “What?” He steps closer. “Girls like you…” He chuckles once, humorless. “You play dress-up for the night, think you’re bold for showing up to places like this. But it’s all pretend, isn’t it?”

You don’t respond, you can’t. His voice is low and steady, but it cuts like a knife. “You don’t belong here,” he adds. “And you know it.” He moves in just a little more, close enough that you can feel the heat of him, his words brushing your skin.

“You should stick to safe things, princess.” You’re frozen, breath shallow. He’s staring right at you, and for a moment, his eyes drop straight to your lips. The tension swells, thick and unbearable. Then his expression shifts. That edge of something cruel curling at the corner of his mouth. “Before something bites back.”

He brushes past you without another word, his shoulder bumping into yours hard enough to knock you slightly off-balance, and he doesn’t look back. 

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

You knew you shouldn’t have come.

Jay had texted that it wasn’t a party, just a small hangout with “the guys,” whatever that meant. You figured you’d sit on a couch, maybe order some pizza, suffer through video games you didn’t understand. Easy enough. But now you’re standing in Sunghoon’s living room, and the first thing you see is Heeseung perched low on the couch, head ducked, dragging a line of coke off the glass coffee table like it's nothing.

His hair is darker now, richer, nearly black. It hangs messily in his eyes, but you catch the flicker of them through the fringe as he wipes at his nose with the back of his hand and leans back, lazy and unbothered. You freeze in the doorway, a cold shiver crawling down your spine. You hadn’t seen him since the concert. “Yo,” Heeseung says, tossing a small plastic bag across the table to Jay without looking. “You bringing her around now?” Jay catches it with one hand, unfazed. “She wanted to come.”

Heeseung’s gaze lifts slowly, dragging up your legs, your torso, your face. Not like he’s checking you out, more like he’s dissecting you. “You want a line, sweetheart?” he asks, voice dry, already knowing the answer. Your lips part in surprise. “No. I’ve never done that. And I’m not going to.” He snorts, ironically this time and leans forward, elbows on his knees, his grin a slow, sharp cut. “Didn’t think so,” he mutters as he rubs the remaining powder from beneath his nose. “You look like the kind of girl who cries when she gets a parking ticket.”

You stiffen, heart skittering in your chest. “Jesus, Heeseung,” Sunghoon cuts in from the kitchen, cracking open a beer. “Can you chill for like five minutes? You don’t gotta scare off every girl that walks through the door.” Heeseung just shrugs. “I’m not scaring her. I’m educating her.”

“Yeah, well, educate yourself on shutting the fuck up,” Sunghoon fires back, walking over and smacking the back of his head with the flat of his hand. Heeseung swats him away without real force, rolling his eyes. “Touch me again and I’ll break your wrist.”

“You’d cry before you tried,” Sunghoon retorts, falling onto the couch beside him with a grin. You don’t say anything, standing awkwardly at the edge of the room while Jay nudges your shoulder and gives you a small smile, like ‘sorry about them’. “I vote for movie night,” Sunghoon announces, grabbing the remote and flipping through options. “Unless you all want to keep playing who’s got the smallest dick.”

Heeseung slouches further down, arm thrown over the back of the couch, that same unreadable smirk still tugging at his mouth as he watches you take a hesitant seat across from him. You’re quick avoid his gaze, but to your dismay, you feel it anyway. 

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

The movie had been playing for a while, some half-serious thriller that Jay insisted was good, even though Sunghoon kept making snide comments about the plot holes every five minutes. You’d nestled onto the couch between the two of them, a big bowl of popcorn resting in your lap. Mostly, it was Jay and Sunghoon grabbing generous handfuls while you only occasionally picked at the edges.

Now it was empty. Sunghoon let out a dramatic groan, slumping against the cushions like someone had just shot him. “No more popcorn? I’m gonna die.” Jay rolled his eyes. “You’ve had more than half the bowl.”

“Exactly,” Sunghoon huffed. Then his eyes landed on you. “y/n. Sweet. Lovely. Beautiful y/n, would you be an angel and make some more before I shrivel up and perish?” You laughed. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m hungry,” he whined, clutching his stomach. “C’mon, I’ll owe you forever.” You shook your head, grinning. “Fine. Where are the packs?” He answered immediately, a victorious smile already painting his lips, “Kitchen cabinet above the stove.” You stood, smoothing your hands over your jeans, and padded toward the kitchen. The lights in there were dimmer than the living room, quieter, more removed. You found the cabinet, pulled out a pack, unwrapped it, and popped it into the microwave. The hum of it spinning was oddly soothing. You stared at the digital countdown, absently brushing popcorn kernels from the now empty bowl.

A presence, heavy, and close pressed to your back like it belonged there. You immediately froze. Then his voice rang through your ears, low, rough. “I told you to stay away.” Your breath caught in your throat, it was Heeseung. “I’m not afraid of you.” You managed to get the words out, albeit quiet, but still firm. He laughed, his tone quiet and mocking, more like a breath than a sound. “You should be.” You felt the edge of his nose brush against your skin, trailing lazily from the curve of your ear down to your jaw. “I don’t like girls like you,” he said. “So preppy. So perfect. Good grades, straight A’s, praise from mommy and daddy for not being the family embarrassment.” His words weren’t sharp, they were slow, and poisonous, like honey laced with something rotten.

“You’re just a good girl who’s playing pretend. Hanging out with people who’ll ruin you just by standing too close.” You stayed still, your heart pounding. But, you didn’t give him the satisfaction of flinching. “You’re wrong about me,” you said quietly. He didn’t respond right away, instead he spun you so your back hit the counter with a dull thud. His hands barely touched you, but they didn’t need to. The heat of him, and the intensity of his gaze was more than enough. “You think so?” he murmured. “Prove it.”

Your brows pulled in. “What-” He leaned in, just a fraction. His breath ghosted over your lips. “If you’re not who I think you are,” he said, “kiss me.” Your lips parted but no words came out. You blinked up at him, heat rising in your cheeks, flooding your chest. “I can’t,” you breathed. “They’re right there.” He didn’t move, he just let his lips brush yours, soft enough to barely count, cruel enough to make it feel like everything. Then his voice dropped right against your mouth. “That’s what I thought.”

Ding.

The microwave broke the silence with a loud chime. Heeseung stepped back with a lazy smirk, turned, and walked out without looking at you again. You stood there for a second longer, heart thudding in your chest, your palms gripping the edge of the counter like it was the only thing keeping you upright.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

You were curled up on your bed, legs tucked beneath you, a pillow hugged to your chest as Mina filed her nails at the desk and Koda nursed a half-empty iced coffee from the floor, where she sat cross-legged on the rug. The dorm room smelled faintly of vanilla and tteokibokki from earlier, a candle flickering on the windowsill, low music humming from Mina’s speaker. It was one of those quiet nights meant for decompressing after a long day.

Instead, your head was spinning.

“He hates me,” you said flatly, staring at the wall like it held the answers. “I don’t even know what I did. One second he’s saving me, the next he’s saying I don’t belong. He’s just.. ugh! He’s so confusing.” Koda raised a brow. “You mean Heeseung, right?” You nodded, clutching the pillow tighter. “I still don’t understand why you’re hanging around them,” Koda muttered, pulling her sleeves over her hands. “Like… okay, Jay and Sunghoon seem nice enough, barely, but Heeseung? I don’t get the appeal.”

“Oh, come on,” Mina cut in, smirking as she leaned back in the chair, legs propped up on the desk. “Tell me you haven’t thought about it.” Koda blinked. “About what?” Mina arched a brow at you. “Sleeping with him.”

“Mina!” you yelped, your face immediately flushing. “What?” she grinned, unbothered. “You’re clearly into him. And if he’s that hot and that frustrating, that’s probably the kind of hate-sex that ruins lives in the best way.” Shaking her head, Koda muttered, “You’re seriously insane,”

“Maybe,” Mina said cheerfully. “But I’m not wrong.” You buried your face in the pillow for a second. “I just don’t get him. Like, he offered me drugs and then told me I should stay away. He gets in my space like he’s trying to start something, and then leaves like I disgust him.”

“That’s because he’s probably bad news,” Koda said, serious now. “You said it yourself he was high out of his mind. He was rude, cold, and clearly not stable. Why are you still entertaining this? Why are you still hanging around them?” You sat up a little straighter, defensive without meaning to be. “Because Jay and Sunghoon aren’t like that. I like hanging out with them. Jay’s sweet. Sunghoon’s funny. They’re not doing anything wrong.”

“Okay,” Koda said, slow and firm, “but they’re close to Heeseung. Like, really close. Don’t you think that means something?” You opened your mouth, then closed it again. “I’m just saying,” Koda continued, “maybe think about not going to these hangouts anymore. Just until you know what you’re getting into.”

“She’s getting into Heeseung’s pants, hopefully,” Mina said under her breath.

“Koda has a point,” you said softly, ignoring Mina for once. “But… I don’t know. I feel like I want to understand him. He’s not just cold. There’s something else.”

“Trauma,” Koda said flatly. Mina laughed, but you only sighed. Then Mina sat up straighter, snapping her fingers. “Wait. I have an idea.” Koda narrowed her eyes. “Oh no.”

“You should go with her next time,” Mina said, pointing a glossy nail at Koda. “You don’t trust them? Go see for yourself.” Koda made a face. “Absolutely not.”

“No, this is perfect,” Mina said, grinning. “You’re like, the judgment queen. If anyone’s gonna get a read on those guys, it’s you.” Koda looked at you, visibly unimpressed. But you leaned in, hopeful. “Koda… would you? Just once? If you hate it, I won’t ask again.” She groaned, throwing her head back. “God, you’re lucky I love you.” You smiled, warm and relieved. “That’s a yes?”

“One time,” she warned. “And if that Heeseung guy looks at me wrong, I’m lighting him on fire.” 

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

It’s Koda who hails the cab, you slide into the backseat beside her, a nervous excitement twisting in your stomach as she scrolls through her phone, totally unfazed. You, however, are still trying to wrap your head around why Sunghoon of all people invited you out tonight, not Jay. Koda raises an eyebrow as she tucks her phone away. “You sure this is a good idea?”

“Nope,” you say, giving her a faint smile. “But we’re already on our way, so…” She just sighs, shaking her head fondly. When the cab pulls up to the restaurant, the evening air greets you with the smoky scent of grilled meat wafting from inside. You spot them immediately, Sunghoon and Heeseung standing by the entrance, dressed down and looking effortlessly cool beneath the soft glow of the signage. “Hey!” you call out, stepping forward with Koda in tow.

Sunghoon waves, flashing that easy grin of his.m as he greets you, “Hey, you made it.” Heeseung meets your gaze for a moment, hands shoved in his pockets. “Hey,” he says flatly. At least he acknowledged you. You turn slightly, “This is Koda, my friend. She’s tagging along tonight.” Sunghoon’s eyes flick to her, and it’s immediate. The pause that feels a second too long. “Hey,” he says, suddenly sounding a little different. “I’m Sunghoon.” Heeseung nods at her in silent greeting, but Sunghoon’s already gesturing toward the doors. “Let’s go in. I’m starving.”

Inside, the place is buzzing, smoke curling above tables, the clatter of side dishes, laughter mixing with upbeat K-pop playing from overhead speakers. As you approach the booth, Sunghoon slips into the seat next to Koda without hesitation, sending you a smug little grin. That leaves you standing there with Heeseung.

You slide in beside him, stiffly at first, trying not to focus on the heat radiating off his body, or the way he hasn’t even looked at you since you sat down. Koda and Sunghoon fall into conversation almost immediately, easy banter, shared music tastes, laughing over which side dishes are superior. You watch them with a small smile, heart swelling at how happy Koda looks. It’s peaceful for a while, until it isn’t.

You feel Heeseung lean toward you, his breath warm against your ear. “You really don’t know when to listen, do you?” You tense, eyes flicking to the grill in front of you. You keep your voice low, only for him. “Maybe you should tell your friends to stop enjoying my presence, then.” There’s a beat of silence. Then he exhales a quiet laugh, sharp and dry. “I forgot how much you like being wanted.” You blink at the burn in his words, jaw tightening. You don’t respond. Neither does he. The rest of the meal is a quiet war zone, chopsticks clinking, laughter echoing from Koda and Sunghoon’s side of the table while you and Heeseung sit in a thick, charged silence. But you feel his eyes. The occasional glance, the flicker of attention he tries to make seem accidental. You steal them back.

When the bill’s paid and you’re all stepping outside into the cool night, Sunghoon stretches, keys jingling in his hand. “I’ll take Koda home.” Koda immediately steps forward. “No, it’s fine, I’ll go with-”

“I insist,” Sunghoon cuts in smoothly, shooting her a crooked smile. “Heeseung can take care of Y/N.” Heeseung groans. “Seriously?” Sunghoon leans in, murmuring something only Heeseung can hear, likely a warning, something along the lines of Don’t fuck this up for me. Heeseung exhales through his nose. “Fine.” You turn to Koda, and despite the weird tension curling in your stomach, you offer her a reassuring look. “It’s okay. Go. I’ll be fine.” She hesitates, but Sunghoon’s already opening the door to his car like a gentleman. She gives you a subtle text me later glance before sliding inside.

And then it’s just you and Heeseung, standing outside the restaurant. The street’s quiet, golden lights from the sign above casting a faint glow over him. He doesn’t say anything at first. Just looks out at the empty street, lips parted like he’s about to sigh.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

Heeseung unlocks his car without a word, the click of the doors breaking the silence between you. You follow, half-expecting him to just drop you off like Sunghoon had asked. Instead, he mutters, “We’re making a stop.” You blink, hesitating before opening the passenger door. “A stop?” Sliding into the driver’s seat, he doesn’t look at you as he answers, “Ran out of weed.” Your brow furrows. “Do you really need me to come with you for that?” He finally glances over, one hand gripping the wheel. “Relax. It’ll be quick.”

You huff but buckle your seatbelt anyway, crossing your arms as he pulls out of the lot. The drive is quiet, streetlights flash across his face, highlighting the soft shadows beneath his eyes, the sharp line of his jaw, the brown hair falling messily into his lashes. Eventually, he turns into the parking lot of a gas station, the kind that like it shouldn’t be open for business. Heeseung shifts into park and wordlessly gets out, hoodie up, posture casual in a way that’s still somehow threatening.

You watch as he approaches a guy standing by the side of the building, hooded and slouched, hands buried in his coat pockets. They exchange a few words, you can’t hear any of them before Heeseung pulls some crumpled bills from his pocket and the other guy produces a few small plastic bags in return.

Then, the dealer’s eyes shift. He’s noticed you. Even from the car, you see the smirk that curls across his face. He nods toward you, saying something you can’t make out but you see the way Heeseung’s entire demeanor changes. His back straightens, and his hand curls into a fist.

Then his voice raises loud enough for you to hear, “Say another word, and I’ll make you eat your fucking teeth.” The guy just laughs, hands raised like he means no harm, backing off with a mock bow before disappearing into the alley behind the station. Heeseung stomps back to the car and throws himself into the seat, slamming the door shut causing you to flinch at the sound.

“Jesus,” you mutter under your breath. He shoves the little baggies into his jacket pocket, jaw still tight. “I’m closer to my apartment,” he says eventually, as he starts the car again. “Jay can drive you home from there.” You don’t respond, you just watch the city lights flicker by through the window, wondering how the hell this night went so sideways.

When the car finally rolls to a stop in front of an apartment building, Heeseung gets out first. You follow, unsure if you’re supposed to. The elevator ride is short, and when he steps into the hallway, he freezes. A sock hangs from the doorknob of his apartment. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he mutters. You look between him and the door, confused. “What… is that supposed to mean?” He turns, looking at you like you’ve just asked him the dumbest question alive. “It means Jay’s getting laid. And unless I wanna walk in on him butt ass naked, balls deep in some girl, I’m not going in there.”

Your mouth parts, but nothing comes out at first. A strange pang of something twists in your chest. Discomfort? Curiosity? You’re not even sure. You shouldn't say anything. You know you shouldn’t. But the words leave your mouth before you can stop them. “You can come hang out with me for a bit.”

Heeseung blinks like you’ve just said something crazy. “You’re not serious.”

“I am,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady like your heart isn’t currently threatening to crawl up your throat. “It’s better than smoking in your car, right?” He looks at you for a long second. Then his tongue clicks against his teeth, and a crooked, almost disbelieving smirk tugs at his lips. “Sure, princess,” he says finally. “Lead the way.” And with that, you both turn and head back to the car, neither of you saying what you’re thinking.

That this is a bad idea.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

The drive to your dorm is quiet. Neither of you speaks, and you’re oddly thankful for it. You already know Mina’s gone for the weekend on some family trip she wasn’t thrilled about, so sneaking Heeseung in isn’t necessary. You don’t even hesitate as you unlock the front door and lead him straight to your room.

He steps inside like he owns the place, scanning the space with an expression that borders on smug satisfaction. Your room is exactly what he expected, soft colors, string lights, a clutter of textbooks, and the sweet scent of your perfume in the air. 

Without asking, he drops into the chair at your desk, pulling a small bag from his jacket along with a metal grinder and rolling papers. You sit on your bed, wordless. Watching. Careful not to speak too soon, not to ask the wrong thing. He grinds the weed with practiced ease, rolling it all up into a neat joint before lighting it. The smell hits you fast and you wrinkle your nose as he takes a long drag, eyes flickering up to meet yours.

You hold eye contact, steady as you can, even as the smoke curls around his face like a halo of sin. He exhales, lazily. “You want a hit?” You shake your head immediately. “No thanks.”

“It’s just weed,” he says like that’s supposed to reassure you. “Won’t kill you.”

“I’ve never done it before.”

“Exactly why you should.” He shrugs, leaning back as he takes another drag. “You’ll be fine.” You hesitate. He’s not pressuring you, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at you, the sharpness behind the laziness in his tone, that makes your pride itch. “Fine but only one…” you mutter, reaching for it before you can psych yourself out.

He watches with amusement as you take a cautious inhale and immediately dissolve into a fit of coughing. Heeseung laughs, full-bodied and unbothered, while you wave at the air and curse under your breath. “You’re such an asshole,” you wheeze. “I knew that would be your reaction,” he says, taking the blunt back and drawing from it like a pro. “Weed’s gross, huh?”

“It is.”

“You get over that pretty quickly,” he mumbles through the smoke. You glare at him, still blinking the burn from your eyes. He exhales again, tapping ash into an empty coffee mug on your desk. Then he asks it, just casually enough to sting. “So why’d you invite me over?” You blink. “Because…you couldn’t go back to your place?”

“Bullshit.” He fixes you with a look, sharp and knowing. You open your mouth, then close it. You don’t have a real answer. Heeseung leans forward just a little, the curve of his smirk cruel and charming all at once. “Is it ‘cause you’re stupid and think I’m hot?”

“No,” you snap, instantly. He chuckles, standing from the chair. You stiffen as he crosses the room and drops onto the edge of your bed next to you, close enough to make your heart stutter. “You sure?” he asks, voice low. You say nothing. You can’t say anything. Your skin feels too hot. Your head swims, not from the weed, but from his nearness, the scent of him, the way he’s looking at you like he already knows the answer.

He sees your blush, and that’s all the confirmation he needs. “You’re too easy,” he mutters, shaking his head with mock disappointment. He stands again, this time strolling to the window, opening it halfway before flicking the burning joint outside. The end sizzles somewhere below. When he turns around, he’s already pulling off his jacket and tossing it over your desk chair. Then he drops to his knees. 

You gasp as his hands grip your thighs, dragging you to the edge of the bed until you’re practically nose-to-nose. “Tell me you want me,” he murmurs, voice low and husky. “Say the words, and I’ll give you what you want.” You shake your head, heart hammering, “I don’t want you.” He scoffs, one brow raising. “Sure. I’m an asshole. I’m repulsive. You’ve made that very clear.”

Your spine straightens, your jaw tightens. “You are,” you bite. “You’re an asshole, and you’re repulsive.” Something flashes in his eyes. Maybe he expected denial. Maybe he wanted it. Instead, he just laughs under his breath, dark and low. “Yeah?” he says. “Then why are you still sitting here?” You open your mouth, but he cuts you off, his hand reaching up, fingers slipping under your chin and tilting your face up until there’s nowhere else to look but at him.

His gaze is intense. Like he’s peeling you open with nothing but his eyes. “Tell me you want me,” he says again, softer this time. “One last chance.” The silence stretches. And then, barely audible, your voice cracked.

“…I want you.”

It’s all he needs. He surges forward, crashing his mouth onto yours in a kiss that’s messy and impatient, all smoke and heat and tension finally snapping. His lips moved against yours like he owned them, tongue sliding past the seam of your mouth before you could even catch your breath. His hands dug into your waist, pulling you against him as if he needed more. And you kissed him back with a kind of clumsy desperation that had him groaning into your mouth.

“You kiss like you’ve never done this before,” he said between breaths, smirking against your lips. You blinked at him, dazed. “I haven’t.” That made him pause, just for a second. His eyes searched yours, dark with something unreadable. Then came the low, almost pleased laugh. “Of course you haven’t.” His tone was laced with something cruel. Not surprise. Satisfaction. “I knew you were a fucking virgin,” he said, pressing his forehead to yours for a brief second. “You’re so fucking obvious.”

You tried to pull away, but he caught you, dragging you back in with a hand curled around your waist. “And so desperate,” he added, voice velvet-wrapped venom. “You let me touch you like this, let me get in your head, just because I smiled at you for two seconds?”

“I didn’t-”

“You didn’t what?” he cut you off, his hand sliding up your spine, fingers pressing just beneath your bra clasp. “Didn’t fantasize about me when I cornered you in that kitchen? Didn’t think about what it’d feel like to have me ruin that perfect little image you try so hard to keep?” His mouth ghosted over your neck, not kissing, just breathing, and it made you shiver. “You’re pathetic,” he said against your skin. “And I mean that in the hottest fucking way possible.”

Your whole body was trembling, but not with fear. It was something else. Something that couldn’t be named anything other than desire.

He pulled back suddenly, just far enough to grab your hands and guide them to the hem of his shirt. “Take it off.” You hesitated for a beat. “Be a good fucking girl,” he said, voice rough. “Do what you’re told.” So you did. Fingers shaky, you pulled the shirt over his head, revealing smooth skin, inked ribs, and lean muscle that flexed with every breath. He looked sinful.

“Good girl,” he breathed, and for some reason, your stomach flipped. But just when things were spiraling faster than you could handle, his hands were on your hips, mouth back on yours, it was so overwhelming you couldn’t help but pull back.

“I… I can’t.” He stilled. “I’ve never… I’ve never done this before,” you admitted, voice small, eyes locked on the space between you. There was a beat of silence. And then, to your surprise, he pulled back. Not with annoyance. Not even frustration. He just looked at you, unreadable again. “Fuck,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he stood. “You really are something else.” You waited for him to storm out, to curse, even to make a cruel comment.

Instead, he just leaned down again, brushed a thumb over your flushed cheek, and said, “You’re lucky I’m not a total piece of shit.” And with that, he grabbed the rest of his clothes, tossed on his jacket, and muttered something about needing a smoke before he lost what little self-control he had left. You sat there, breathless and buzzing, completely unsure of whether you’d just made the best or worst decision of your life.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

The music thrums low through the walls, bass pulsing like a heartbeat as laughter drifts in from Sunghoon’s living room. You’re curled up in an oversized armchair with a ginger ale in hand, Kira and Mina arguing over which song to queue next while Jay and Wren are deep in a debate about movies that neither of them can name correctly. Somewhere across the room, Heeseung sits with a drink in one hand and a lazy smirk stretched across his face. His hair’s a little messy, pupils blown wide from whatever he snorted in the hallway earlier, and despite the chaos of the party, you can feel his eyes on you like a brand.

It’s not obvious, no one else seems to notice. But you do. Every glance. Every slow rake of his gaze down your frame. Every time his tongue wets his lips like he’s tasting a memory. And even though you try not to, you glance back, too. Then your phone buzzes in your lap.

heeseung: bathroom. now.

Your breath catches in your throat. You don’t even think, you simply mutter an excuse to Koda about needing to pee and slip down the hallway. The party noise fades behind the door when you step into the bathroom. He’s already there, leaned up against the opposite wall with that same devilish glint in his eyes.

You blink. “Are we gonna talk about-”

“Shut the fuck up,” Heeseung says flatly, pushing off the wall and closing the distance in one stride. His hands cradle your jaw and then his mouth is on yours, hot and aggressive and unforgiving. There’s no hesitation in his kiss, no slow build, just his tongue exploring your mouth, and the taste of liquor as he presses you back against the door. Your fingers fist in his shirt before you even realize it.

You pull back breathless. “Heeseung, what the hell are we doing? We need to talk about the other night-”

“I don’t do relationships,” he says with a scoff like it’s a disgusting word. “So if that’s what you want, you better wait for hell to freeze over.” You blink at him, heart hammering in your chest, anxiety rising in your throat. “But,” he adds, voice lower now, more dangerous, “I do want to ruin you.” You swallow hard at his words. He smirks, brushing his nose against yours. “So here’s the deal, princess. You’re either in or you’re out. No strings. You wanna play with fire, or do you want me to walk away?”

Your brain screams run. But your body’s already betraying you, your anxiety fizzling away as his scent reaches your nose. You grab him by the collar and pull him back into a kiss, just as messy, just as desperate. His hands find your waist like they’ve been there a thousand times before, fingers curling tight. For a moment, you forget how to breathe. Heeseung groans against your mouth, then pulls away, forehead resting against yours as both of you catch your breath.

“We should get back,” he murmurs. You nod, pulse still thundering. He opens the door, peeks out, then gives you a quick nod. “You first.” You slip back into the party, lips still tingling as you slide into your spot on the armchair as if nothing happened.

A few minutes later, Heeseung strolls in, eyes scanning the room until they find you again. You go to look away, but it’s already too late.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

You weren’t supposed to fall into this.

At first, it’s just sneaking around, his hands on your hips in the back of someone’s house party, his lips slanted over yours in the shadows of a hallway, his messages short and demanding: Come over. Now.

It never goes further than making out. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because you always stop it, and for some reason, he listens. But he toys with you. Pushes you to your limits. Tugs at your waistband just to hear you whimper and tell him no. He always listens, barely, but he never makes it easy.

Heeseung has fun with it. At least, that’s what he tells himself. 

But then something shifts.

You don’t show up to one of the guys’ get-togethers and he spends the whole night pissed off. You don’t answer his messages during midterms and he fights the urge to call you. And when you finally reply that you’ve been studying, he just stares at the screen for a long moment, jaw clenched, fingers twitching with something he doesn’t want to name.

Because there’s one thing Heeseung promised himself he’d never do… develop feelings. Especially not for someone like you. But somehow, you become his. His little secret. His personal puppy. Always coming when he calls, even if it's just to follow him to meet a plug. You make him food after he gets too high and starts spiraling. You learn what bands he listens to, what kind of ramen he likes, what makes him laugh on those rare days when he lets his walls fall just enough.

And the worst part?

You never ask for anything back.

For months, he keeps choosing you. He stops fucking around with other girls, ignores his late-night calls from the ones who’d been more than willing to drop to their knees. It didn’t matter. The only lips he wanted on him were yours. And he hasn’t even had that in weeks. Heeseung starts to feel like you belong to him and it terrifies him.

So he does what he does best. He pulls away.

You come over to his place one night, unannounced, because he hadn’t answered your texts in two days and it made you worry. He doesn’t look surprised to see you, just annoyed. You barely step inside when his voice cuts sharp and flat. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I was worried,” you say quietly, trying not to flinch. His laugh is humorless. “Worried? What the hell for?”

“You weren’t answering and-”

“I don’t owe you shit, Y/N. I don’t have to text you back.”

“I know that,” you whisper. “I just… I care, that’s all.”

He sneers. “That’s your first mistake.”

You don’t fight back. You don’t yell. You just stand there, eyes wide, shrinking under the weight of every bitter word. “I never needed you,” he says. “Don’t know what kind of delusion you’ve been living in, but this,” he gestures vaguely between you “was never anything. Just convenient. You were easy.” Your throat burns. Your eyes sting. But still, you stay. “You don’t mean that.”

He steps closer, expression cruel. “I do. Get the fuck out, Y/N.” You’re crying now, but you nod. “Okay… I hope you have a good night.”

You’re halfway to the door when he throws in one last jab. “Keep crying, sweetheart. Shows just how fucking weak you really are.” The door slams behind you before you can blink away the tears. Jay is standing in the hallway. He freezes when he sees you, eyes wide.

“Y/N? What happened?” You don’t answer. You don’t even look at him. You just keep walking, hand trembling as it wraps around the stair railing, the apartment door shutting behind you like punctuation at the end of a sentence you never wanted to write.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

A week passes. And it’s miserable. You barely leave your dorm except for class. You come back, bury yourself in textbooks or pretend to scroll your phone, hoping your friends won’t notice how much darker your eyes look now, how much quieter you’ve become. But they do notice. Mina tries to talk to you, but you just keep saying you’re fine. Kira gives you looks full of concern. Wren keeps asking if you’re sick. You’re not. You just feel hollow.

And Heeseung… He’s no better.

Jay’s fed up with him. He’s been smoking and snorting himself stupid. He’s always high, barely coherent, lying around their apartment with bloodshot eyes and a shorter temper than usual. No girls, no snide comments. No joy.

Until tonight.

There’s a knock on your dorm door. Mina opens it, expecting maybe a neighbour or a classmate needing something. Instead, she finds Heeseung. He looks wrecked, eyes red, pupils blown wide, hair messy. Jacket hanging off one shoulder, reeking of weed. “What the hell…” Mina starts, furrowing her brows. “Why are you here?” He doesn’t answer her. Doesn’t care how insane he looks. “Is Y/N here?”

“Uh… yeah?”

He brushes past her before she can stop him. He marches straight to your door and opens it. You’re sitting cross-legged on your bed, startled as he walks in and shuts the door behind him like he belongs there. “Heeseung?” you breathe out, eyes wide. He doesn’t say anything right away. Just walks over, dazed, and sits on the edge of your bed. You can instantly tell he’s high, and not just weed this time. His gaze is hazy, his voice low and hoarse when he finally speaks.

“Can I… lay with you?” Your heart twists. You don’t know what to say. You’re confused and hurt, but even so you nod.

He kicks off his shoes, shrugs out of his jacket, and slides onto your bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Then he curls behind you, an arm wrapping around your waist like it never left. His breath warms the back of your neck. You can feel his heartbeat against your spine. For a long while, neither of you speak. Then somewhere you work up and courage and quietly, you whisper, “Why are you here?” He presses a soft kiss to your neck, another. His voice, when it comes, is slurred but raw. “Be quiet.” You shiver but stay silent.

“I hated it,” he mutters after a beat. “Being without you. Hated knowing you were out there and I’d pushed you away.” Your breath catches. You don’t know how to respond. He nuzzles into your neck, pulling you closer, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish. “You belong to me.” And you should argue. You should push him away. But you don’t, you just let him hold you.

“I didn’t mean the shit I said,” he murmurs. “I was scared. Of how I feel about you. I didn’t know what to do with it.” You stay still, soaking in every word, every slow beat of his heart against your back. “I’m not gonna push you away again,” he says quietly. “You don’t have to worry about that.” You don’t say anything. You just reach down and thread your fingers through his, and you hold on.

You don’t know how long you laid there. The silence is full but not uncomfortable. Just soft breaths and the quiet beat of something new blooming between you. Eventually, you shift in his arms and roll over, facing him.

Heeseung looks at you like he doesn’t know whether he’s dreaming or hallucinating. His pupils are still blown wide, but they’re focused on you. You lean in slowly, tentatively, and press the gentlest kiss to his lips. It’s so featherlight it nearly doesn’t land. But it’s enough.

Heeseung moves before you can pull away. His hand cradles the side of your face, and he kisses you back softly at first, almost reverent. But the longer your lips linger, the more the hunger seeps in. It grows, consuming, like it’s been building up inside him for the last week. The kisses get deeper, needier. Your fingers clutch at the fabric of his shirt as he shifts, pressing you down onto the mattress, his body moving to hover over yours. He cages you in without hesitation, kissing you like he’s starving and you’re the first thing that’s ever made him feel full.

His lips bruise yours, but you don’t care. You only kiss him harder. His hand trails down your side, gripping your waist as his body presses flush against yours. The way he moves, the way he kisses, it’s all too much. But you don’t want to stop. You want more. And for once, the fear doesn’t outweigh the ache. You pull away just slightly, your breaths tangled in the tiny space between you.

Your eyes lock, and his gaze is burning, pupils heavy and jaw tight, like he’s trying to hold back. And then, softly you say the words he’d been waiting to hear.

“I’m ready for more.”

His entire body stills above you. Then, slowly, he leans in until your noses touch, his voice rough against your lips. “Say that again.” You swallow. Your chest rises and falls with every shaky inhale, but your eyes don’t leave his. “I’m ready,” you repeat, just as softly. “For more.”

Your words are all he needs. The moment they leave your lips, he closes the gap, kissing you again, but this time, it's slower. More deliberate. Like he’s finally allowing himself to savor something he’s been craving for far too long.

Clothing falls away piece by piece, scattered carelessly to the floor. There’s no rush. Just quiet anticipation, mounting tension, and the weight of something neither of you wants to name. When you’re beneath him, completely bare and he’s left in nothing but his boxers, Heeseung just looks at you.

“You look so beautiful like this,” he murmurs, the words low and genuine before he leans down, mouth trailing kisses along the curve of your neck. His lips brand you, soft at first, then hungrier as they dip lower. His teeth graze your hip bone, then your inner thigh, dragging a gasp from your lips.

This is the first time you’ve ever let someone see you like this. So vulnerable and exposed. Your hands instinctively rise, trying to shield your face from the heat of his gaze. But Heeseung clicks his tongue and reaches up, fingers gently curling around your wrist. “Let me see that pretty face while I make you feel good. Can you do that for me, baby?” And really, how could you ever say no to him? You drop your hands to your sides, surrendering completely, and he smiles before dipping between your legs like he owns the place.

His tongue is confident, practiced, and devastatingly precise. You feel every deliberate flick against your clit like a jolt of lightning. He kisses you there, hungry and unrelenting, like he’s starving for every sound you make. You moan his name, loud and needy. “Heeseung…”

His groan hums against your core, vibrating through you in the most sinful way. That one moan, the way his name rolls off your tongue, it spurs him on. He pushes your legs further apart, then back, just to hear your sounds more clearly, just to feel how wet and desperate he’s made you.

The pressure builds quickly. It’s not gentle. It’s overwhelming. Your body trembles under the weight of your pleasure, muscles twitching as your moans dissolve into shaky little whimpers. You’re right on the edge and he knows it. His gaze lifts to yours, locking eyes with you just as you begin to come undone. Gone is the cold detachment you’ve come to expect from him. There’s a glimmer of warmth now, mischief dancing in his eyes, his lips curved into a smirk as they press against your pussy again.

That’s all it takes.

You shatter beneath him with a broken cry, back arching, hips lifting off the mattress. Your orgasm crashes through you like a wave, hot and all-consuming, setting every nerve on fire. It’s bliss and chaos wrapped in one, your chest heaving as you ride it out, moaning his name like a prayer, and Heeseung just watches. 

He doesn’t take his eyes off you as he lifts his head from between your thighs, lips slick with your arousal. His eyes are bloodshot and glassy from the high but they burn into yours with something heavier than lust. Hunger so deep it coils in your stomach and twists your insides.

Then he kisses you hard, desperate, a filthy blend of your taste and his need but the moment is short-lived. You feel it immediately, the thick bulge in his boxers grinding against your soaked core, the friction dizzying despite the barrier. A low, guttural sound rumbles in his chest, and his lips hover just above yours.

“You sure about this?” he murmurs, voice hoarse with restraint, his breath warm against your mouth. You nod, quick and breathless. “Yes,” you whisper, eyes pleading. “I need you.”

He pulls back with a groan, sitting up on his knees as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers. Your gaze drops, your breath catching when he tugs them down and tosses them aside. His cock springs free, long and thick, veins prominent, the flushed tip already glistening with pre-cum. It slaps against his abdomen with a heavy thud, and your thighs instinctively part wider.

Heeseung catches the way your eyes lock on his length, the awe, the need, and it pulls a slow smirk from his lips. “I don’t have a condom,” he says, but there’s no hesitation in his tone. He knows what your answer will be before you give it. “I don’t care,” you breathe, voice trembling with desire. “I just want you.” His smirk deepens, dark and dangerous. He leans forward just enough to press his tip against your entrance, dragging it slowly through your folds, collecting the slick that’s been pooling for him since the moment he walked through your door.

“You keep saying shit like that, pretty girl,” he rasps, “and I’m gonna start thinking you want me to put a baby in you.” The words are low and filthy, and they send a tremor through your body. He holds the base of his cock in one hand, teasing your dripping entrance, circling it, pushing just the tip inside and pulling back again. “Is that what you want?” he taunts, voice all mock-innocence, even as his jaw clenches from the restraint it’s taking not to bury himself inside you. You whimper, back arching slightly as you try to rock your hips forward, but his hand presses down on your thigh, keeping you in place. “Heeseung, please,” you cry, nearly breathless. “I need to feel you.”

That’s all it takes to break him. His eyes flash, the playfulness gone in an instant, replaced by something ravenous. With one smooth, powerful thrust, he sinks into you, stretching you slowly, inch by inch, letting you feel every part of him as your walls flutter and tighten around his thick length. A guttural moan rips from his chest. “Fuck,” he hisses, eyes squeezing shut. “You feel so fucking good.”

And for a moment time stalls. All that exists is the feeling of him inside you for the very first time, your nails digging into his shoulders, your legs trembling from the stretch, and Heeseung’s hands gripping your hips like he never plans to let go.

A sharp cry tore from your throat as Heeseung pushed deeper, stretching you open in a way you’d never felt before. The pleasure was overwhelming, laced with a faint sting that had your eyes welling with tears. Heeseung saw the tremble in your lips, the way your brows drew together and for the first time, the ever-composed boy above you froze completely.

“Shhh,” he murmured gently, his voice too soft for the boy who usually only knew how to tease and taunt. His thumb brushed at the tears slipping down your cheeks, wiping them away with a reverence that left your heart aching. “I got you, baby. You’re okay.” He leaned down, pressing featherlight kisses across your face. From your cheeks, to your jaw, to the corners of your mouth, almost like he was trying to kiss the pain away. Your eyes met his, and there was something new there, something fragile and raw. You gave him a small nod, and he didn’t need anything more.

The moment you gave him permission, he exhaled a groan like he’d been holding it in for years. The restraint it took him to not completely unravel was evident in the way his arms trembled on either side of your head. He knew it was your first time, and for once, Heeseung wasn’t out to ruin you. He was here to worship you. He started to move, slow and deliberate, his thrusts deep and steady, designed not to overwhelm, but to let you feel every inch of him. Every time his hips rolled into yours, you swore he carved a piece of himself into your body. He never looked away from you, not even for a second. 

You wrapped your arms around his back, nails digging deeper into his shoulders as the pleasure slowly overtook the pain, and then eclipsed it entirely. Your moans spilled freely now, rising with each thrust, and Heeseung’s breath hitched at the sound of them. “You’re mine,” he whispered, voice breaking against your ear. “You hear me? This pussy is mine.” His lips brushed your throat, but his eyes were starting to flutter closed, head tilting back as the pleasure threatened to undo him. “God, you feel so fucking good.”

He shifted suddenly, grabbing the backs of your thighs and pushing them forward, throwing your legs over his shoulders in one fluid motion. The angle had your breath hitching, your back arching up off the mattress as he buried himself even deeper, grinding against the spot that made your entire body tremble. His hands planted on either side of your head, caging you in as he began to fuck you in earnest, hips snapping forward with a brutal rhythm. You were a mess beneath him, moaning, whining, hands grasping at his forearms for something to hold onto. That knot in your stomach tightened fast and hard, your whole body going taut with it.

You could barely speak. “Hee.. Heeseung, I think I’m gonna-” But his pace didn’t falter. “I know,” he grunted. “I can feel you, baby. But you’re not allowed to cum yet.” You sobbed at his words, a desperate cry breaking through your lips. “I can’t.. I can’t hold it.. please!” He growled low in his throat, his pace faltering just for a moment to lean closer, his lips right by your ear. “You do what I say,” he hissed. “You hold it until I tell you. You always do as you’re told, right?”

Your nod was frantic, broken by whimpers, and you could feel his cock twitch inside you as your walls fluttered around him, desperate to release. His own breathing was ragged now, sweat dotting his forehead, jaw clenched as he tried to hold himself back.

Then finally, like a reward he gave in. “Cum for me,” he groaned. “Now.” Your release hit like a wave crashing over your body, your vision going white at the edges, back arching as your orgasm tore through you. The tightness in your abdomen snapped with a force that had you nearly screaming, shaking beneath him as the pleasure ripped you apart. Heeseung’s hands gripped your thighs harder as your pussy clenched around him.

“Fuck.” he cursed, voice shaking, hips stuttering. “Fuck, fuck, fuck-”

His own orgasm hit seconds later, spilling into you with a guttural groan as his body collapsed slightly over yours, his arms catching his weight just in time. He chanted your name like it was the only word he remembered, praises falling from his lips as he rode out the high with you. The room felt too quiet in the aftermath, filled only with the sound of your shared heavy breathing. Your skin burned, a soft glow spread across your body like you’d been touched by something divine. Heeseung didn’t pull away immediately. He leaned in to kiss your shoulder, your jaw, your temple, anywhere he could easily get his lips on..

Eventually, he pulls out carefully, murmuring soft apologies at your wince. He cleaned you up with surprising tenderness, making sure you were comfortable before crawling back into bed beside you. No words passed between you. They weren’t needed. Not with the way you curled into his chest, and the way his arms wrapped around you like he didn’t plan on letting go.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

A few months had passed, and things between you and Heeseung had shifted but not in the way you'd hoped.

Word had spread quickly among your friends that the two of you were something. You were always together, always touching, always tangled up in some form of each other. Heeseung never bothered denying it, and though you weren’t officially dating, he didn’t let anyone so much as look at you the wrong way. You were his, even if you weren’t his.

At first it felt like enough.

The two of you started going on double dates with Sunghoon and Koda, who had become disgustingly official. Public hand-holding, matching lockscreens, soft smiles traded when they thought no one was looking. It made something twist in your stomach every time you saw them together. Because you wanted that with Heeseung. Not just in secret, not just in the dark, not just in bed.

You’d asked him about it more than once, about putting a label on whatever you were. Every time, he gave the same answer. “Labels are overrated.”

And somehow, every time, you let yourself believe him. Let yourself agree. Because what else could you do? Walk away?

Now the entire friend group was gathered at Sunghoon’s place, celebrating the unthinkable. He’d gotten back into college. The same guy who once slept through an exam while tripping balls was suddenly clean, smiling more, standing a little straighter with Koda by his side.

Jay raised his red solo cup. “No way you’re really quitting for good,” he snorted. Heeseung chimed in with a lopsided grin. “Bet you relapse in a week.” Sunghoon only laughed, draping an arm over Koda’s shoulders. “For her? I’d give up anything.” The room buzzed with soft awe, with that sticky sweetness of love that had you glancing at Heeseung out of the corner of your eye.

But he didn’t look back.

Later that night, you were curled up in Heeseung’s bed, the city lights bleeding through the blinds in slanted strips of white and gold. He sat at his desk, rolling a bill between his fingers, lining powder up with mechanical precision. You bit your lip. Waited. Then finally, quietly, “Would you ever quit… for me?”

He paused, just for a second. Then he laughed. “Don’t be stupid.” The words hit like a slap, and your stomach sank. “I’m not being stupid,” you said softly. “I’m asking.” He didn’t even look at you. “I’m too deep in, princess. You knew that from the start.” You sat up, sheet clutched against your chest. “Yeah, but maybe you could want more. Maybe you could try for us.” That made him turn. He swiveled slowly in his chair, coke still untouched, eyes bleary with something unreadable. “Us?” he echoed. “What us, Y/N? We're not married. We're not even actually dating.”

The words landed like stones in your chest. You blinked at him, stunned, your voice breaking as you whispered, “That’s so mean, Heeseung… how could you say that after everything?” He rolled his eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then what did you mean?” He shrugged, looking away. “I just don’t think about the future. I never have. Shit like that doesn’t work for people like me. Whatever happens, happens.” You were silent for a moment. Then, with a quiet sigh, you turned away from him and laid back down, facing the wall. You didn’t cry, not this time. But something inside you hardened.

Behind you, you heard the faint snort of his line. A few seconds later, the bed dipped under his weight as he slid in behind you. His arm draped around your waist like it always did. But tonight, it felt heavier. He buried his face into the crook of your neck. He smelled like sweat and powder. And though he didn’t say it, you felt the smallest whisper of apology in the way he kissed your shoulder. Still, your eyes stayed open long after his closed. Because no matter how close his body was to yours, you’d never felt farther from him.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

The next week, Sunghoon waited at the bottom of the steps, his hoodie half-zipped and a protein shake in hand. “Damn, you look like death.” You rolled your eyes, trying and failing to stifle a yawn as you adjusted your backpack. “Didn’t sleep.” Sunghoon let out a small chuckle as he walked beside you, “Let me guess. Study bender?” You gave a tired half-smile. “Something like that.”

The truth was heavier than you let on. You were burning the candle at both ends. Studying until your vision blurred, then sneaking off to Heeseung’s apartment in the middle of the night because he needed you. He always needed something. A distraction. A fix. A warm body. You never said no. Not once. Not even when your body begged for sleep and your brain screamed for rest. By the time you and Sunghoon reached class, your chest already felt tight. Your skin was clammy, your thoughts muddy and disjointed. You hadn’t even remembered this essay was being handed back today.

The second your professor placed the paper facedown in front of you, your stomach sank. You flipped it over, and there it was, a huge, angry 57% scrawled across the top in unforgiving red ink. For a moment, your world stopped. You blinked at the number, uncomprehending. You’d never seen a grade like that in your life. Never anything under a 93. Not even close. You remembered writing it, or rather trying to.

Heeseung had been pacing his apartment, high and impatient, asking how much longer you were going to be. “Come on, babe,” he’d said, already tugging at your shirt. “You’ll finish it later.” You should’ve said no. You should’ve finished it, you knew better. “y/n…” Sunghoon’s voice was gentle beside you, too gentle, then you realized he’d seen the grade too. “I’m sorry-” You didn’t let him finish.

Before the first slide even hit the projector, you grabbed your paper, shoved it into your bag, and bolted. “y/n?” your professor called out as the door closed behind you, but you didn’t stop. The tears were already falling, hot and silent down your cheeks as your legs carried you on autopilot. 

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

Jay opened the door with a lazy grin. “Hey, look who it is-” His expression dropped instantly when he saw your face. “Whoa, hey. What’s wrong?”

“Is Heeseung here?” you asked, voice hoarse. He shook his head, stepping back to let you in. “He went out. Should be back soon, though.” You turned like you were about to leave, but Jay caught your wrist. “Wait, come inside.” You hesitated, wavering on your feet. But then his arms opened, and your resolve broke. You fell into his chest, sobs wracking your body as he pulled you in close.

Jay guided you to the couch, settling in beside you without a word. His hand rubbed slow, steady circles along your back while you cried until your throat ached. “I’m so tired,” you finally whispered. “I’m tired of loving someone who doesn’t want to love me back. He wants me to be his, but he doesn’t want to be mine.”

Jay didn’t respond right away. He let you speak, let your words settle between the two of you before he finally said, “You know that’s not fair to you, right?” You just stared at your hands, shaking in your lap. “I know. But I keep choosing him anyway.” You reached into your bag, your fingers clumsy, and pulled out the crumpled essay. “And now my life’s falling apart because of it.” You handed it to him, shame rushing up your throat. Jay’s brows knit together as he read the grade. “Jesus. y/n…”

“I was working on it that night and he kept trying to rush me so I could give him my attention. I was almost done, but he didn’t want to wait.”

“And you dropped everything for him.”

“I always do,” you whispered.

He was quiet for a second, then gently nudged your leg with his. “Heeseung actually invited me out tonight. Some new bar opening nearby.” You looked over, startled. “Jay, I can’t.” His voice was calm, “Just hear me out. Come with me and just to talk to him.” You exhaled sharply, your head already shaking. “He doesn’t listen.”

“Then make him listen,” Jay said, more firm this time. “Tell him what you told me. That you’re tired. That you’re drowning trying to hold up both of you. That you’re not asking him to change overnight but you are asking him to care enough to meet you halfway.” You swallowed hard. “What if he doesn’t?” Jay shrugged. “Then you’ll know. And I think deep down knowing is better than dragging this out in the dark.” He rested his hand on yours, “You love him. That’s obvious. But love shouldn’t break you down like this, y/n. Not over and over again.”

Your eyes welled again, but you held back the tears. Instead, you nodded slowly. “Okay. I’ll come.” Jay offered you a small, “Good, and hey… no matter what happens, I got you.”

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

The bass thumped through the floor of the bar, pulsing in your chest as you followed Jay inside. The space was crowded but stylish, with low amber lighting and a haze of laughter and smoke hanging in the air. You looked stunning but even with your makeup perfect and your dress hugging you in all the right places, something inside still felt off.

Jay leaned in close, his voice pitched low near your ear. “You good?” You nodded, even if it was a lie. “Let’s just get a drink.” You posted up at the bar, side by side as you sipped your cocktails. You scanned the room absentmindedly, heart thudding against your ribs, wondering if tonight would finally be the night something changed between you and Heeseung.

Then Jay spotted him. “He’s over there.” You turned as Jay nodded toward the far corner, where a group of guys lounged around a table with half-drunk beers and a few girls clinging to their arms. Heeseung sat relaxed and smirking until your eyes locked on the girl on his lap. She was curled against him like she belonged there, her lips attached to his neck, one hand teasing the hem of his shirt.

You froze. Jay’s jaw clenched. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Heeseung noticed Jay first, and he waved lazily, like nothing was wrong. It wasn’t until you approached that his face dropped, and you didn’t say a word. 

“y/n..”

The girl was shoved off his lap without ceremony, confusion written all over her face. But you weren’t looking at her. You were looking at him like you’d never seen him before. Like something inside you had finally snapped. You let out the smallest, most broken sigh, then turned to leave. Jay moved as if to follow you, but Heeseung reached for his arm and shook his head. “I got it.” Jay just stared him down like he might hit him, but he stepped back, lips pressed into a thin, hard line.

The air outside the bar was sharp and cool, biting at your skin as you wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to breathe. The muffled thump of bass inside faded behind you, but it couldn’t drown out the sound of your heartbeat, loud and aching in your ears. You stood on the curb, phone pressed to your cheek.

“Yeah… can you come get me?” Your voice cracked on the last word, barely above a whisper as you got Kira to come pick you up. The moment you hung up, you heard the door swing open behind you. “y/n.” You didn’t turn, you couldn’t. You kept your eyes on the street, watching headlights blur behind the film of tears already clouding your vision. “I didn’t know you were gonna be here,” Heeseung said, his voice a little breathless. “She meant nothing. I didn’t even say two words to her before she climbed on top of me.”

You didn’t respond, but your shoulders tensed. He noticed. “She wasn’t you,” he added. “She never could be.” That got you to turn, enough to glance over your shoulder. Enough to let him see how wrecked you were, even beneath your makeup and perfect dress. “Do you even hear yourself?” you asked, your voice low and raw. “Why was anyone on you in the first place?” He looked like he wanted to argue. Like he had excuses lined up. But instead, he stepped closer, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket. “I was drunk. I was bored. I’ve been losing my fucking mind.”

You blinked, a tear slipping down your cheek before you could stop it. “I’m not good at this, Y/N. I’m shit at it. But I swear I wasn’t trying to hurt you.” His eyes searched yours, his voice a little quieter now. “If I’d known you were coming with Jay… I wouldn’t have even looked at anyone else.” Your throat tightened. You hated how easily your heart twisted at his words. How even now, even like this, part of you still wanted to believe him.

“I didn’t come here to fight,” you murmured. “Then don’t,” he said, taking another step closer. “Come back inside, or come home with me. Let me fix this.” You turned to face him fully now, biting your cheek to stop the sob sitting at the base of your throat. “Heeseung…” you started, but your voice faltered.

He saw it, the softening in your eyes, the hesitation in your stance. The way your hands twitched like you didn’t know whether to shove him or hold him. He saw it all, and his mouth curved into the smallest smirk, hopeful and cocky all at once. “I knew you wouldn’t walk away that easy,” he said under his breath, stepping forward again, close enough now that you could smell him. Close enough to pull you back in. But before he could reach you, headlights flashed across both your faces.

Kira’s car.

You wiped your cheek fast, hoping she didn’t notice. As she pulled up to the curb, you turned back to Heeseung, taking one shaky breath. “I’m not done with this conversation,” you admitted. “But I can’t do this right now.”

He opened his mouth again, ready to talk you down, smooth things over, maybe even kiss his way out of the wreckage but the door to Kira’s car swung open with a quiet click, and the moment slipped through his fingers like smoke. You slid into the passenger seat without another word, not even looking back as Kira pulled away. Heeseung stood on the sidewalk, watching the car disappear, jaw tight and eyes glinting with the ghost of a grin. Because for better or worse, he knew it wasn’t over.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

The morning was quiet, the kind of stillness that felt heavy rather than peaceful. You stood outside Heeseung and Jay’s apartment, your arms crossed against the early chill, uncertainty churning in your stomach like a storm on the brink. You didn’t even remember the walk here. Your legs had carried you on instinct, like some pathetic magnetic pull that wouldn’t let you stay away.

You raised your hand and knocked softly on the door, almost like part of you hoped he wouldn’t answer, but he did.

Heeseung opened the door looking like he hadn’t slept, eyes red, hair a mess, the fabric of his hoodie wrinkled and worn. For a second, he just blinked at you, as if unsure you were real. Then he stepped back silently, letting you in. You didn’t speak as you made your way to his room, the familiar scent of his cologne and faint smoke clinging to everything around you. You sat on the edge of his bed while he shut the door behind him. The air felt thick, like it could snap under the weight of whatever you were about to say.

He sat beside you, a little too close. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” you said quietly, hands resting in your lap, fingers digging into your own skin. “I’m tired, Heeseung. Everything in my life is falling apart, and I don’t even recognize myself anymore. And it’s not fair. I shouldn’t feel this… pathetic.” He didn’t say anything at first. Just let your words hang in the air between you. Then, finally he whispered, “I know.” You turned to look at him. “Do you?”

Heeseung’s jaw tensed. “I know I’ve hurt you. I’ve been selfish, and I’ve dragged you into my mess. But I meant what I said last night. I wasn’t trying to hurt you, Y/N. I just…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I’m not good at this. I’m scared of needing someone like I need you.” You stayed quiet, heart hammering in your chest, desperate for something real from him. “I’m not ready,” he admitted, voice low. “Not for the kind of love you deserve. Not yet. But I swear to God, I’m trying. And I don’t want you to leave me before I figure it out.” Your throat tightened. You hated him a little for saying the right things. For always knowing just how much honesty to give to keep you hanging on.

“I can’t keep putting my life on hold for someone who won’t choose me,” you whispered. “I am choosing you,” he said, reaching for your hand. “Just not in the way you want. Not yet. But I will.” You looked down at your joined hands. His thumb brushed softly over your knuckles, slow and reverent, like maybe he knew how close you were to walking away. “I need time,” he said again. “But I don’t want to lose you. Please don’t make me lose you.”

Your heart ached with how badly you wanted to believe him. And then, he leaned in and placed a genuine kiss on your lips. Not rushed, not greedy. Just a kiss. Sweet and gentle, which was rare for Heeseung. It didn’t burn like normal, you completely melted into him, and that was the problem. When he pulled back, your eyes were still closed. You breathed in slowly, “Okay,” you whispered. “But I can’t keep waiting forever.”

“I know,” he said. “I won’t make you.”

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

It had been months since that night at the bar. Somehow, Heeseung had surprised you. After that, he showed up. Not in grand, sweeping gestures, but in smaller ways. Less disappearing, fewer girls, and a real effort to be present. He still got high more often than you liked, but he wasn’t the same careless version of himself. There were even days he stayed sober just for you. He still refused to label what the two of you had, but there was no denying it anymore, you were his. And despite everything, he was still yours.

Finals came and went in a blur. You buried yourself in your notes, slept less, ate less, and practically lived in the library. Heeseung didn’t love it. He was pissy about the time you spent away, complained under his breath, picked little fights but when you reminded him how important this was to you, he’d try to pull it back. You knew he didn’t mean to be cold. It was just that being second to anything, including your future, never sat well with him.

So when your final marks came in, high scores across the board, including a ninety-six on the rewritten essay that had nearly broken you, you practically floated to his apartment. You didn’t knock anymore, you hadn’t for months. Jay barely looked up from the couch when you breezed in. “Heeseung’s in his room,” he mumbled through a mouthful of chips.

Your heart pounded with something close to glee as you padded down the hallway. For once, it felt like things were right again. The pressure was off your shoulders, and all you wanted was to share this victory with the person who made you feel like magic even on your worst days. You pushed open the door, and he was on the edge of his bed, hunched over, dollar bill between his fingers, a thin white line in front of him on the desk. He didn’t flinch when you walked in. Just looked up, red-eyed and lazy-smiled. "You’re here," he said, voice low and drowsy. You didn’t hesitate. You were in his lap before he could blink, cupping his face and pressing your lips to his. "I did it," you whispered between kisses. "I killed those exams, and got the makeup essay back too, your girl got a ninety-six."

His hands landed on your waist. "Of course you did. You’re brilliant." You kissed him harder, and he returned it, sloppier than usual but still full of heat. Then, somewhere between his hands gripping your hips and his lips trailing up your jaw, he murmured, “You deserve better than me.” You froze. Just for a moment. “What?”

He pulled back, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “You’re up here,” he said, motioning vaguely upward, “and I’m down here, snorting lines off my goddamn desk.” You gave a breathless laugh, like he’d just told a bad joke. “Stop. Don’t ruin this.”

“I’m not trying to,” he said. “I’m just being real.” The air in the room shifted. He kissed you again, slower, deeper, more tender, and when he pulled back, his voice was barely a whisper. “You can do better than me.”

“No,” you said immediately, pulling yourself off of his lap, “Don’t say that.”

“I mean it.” He breathed out, lips pink from the kiss you two had just shared. “Heeseung..”

“You’re the kind of girl who makes it. Full ride, top of your class. Everyone sees it but you. And I’m the guy who drags you out of study sessions to fuck, who gets high instead of helping you write your essays.” The tears start to form in your eyes, the feeling of whats about to come claws at your throat and shakes your entire body. “I don’t care. None of that matters to me. I don’t want any of it without you.”

And that’s when he breaks. It’s not loud. Not dramatic. It’s subtle in the way his jaw tightens, the way he blinks a few times too fast, the way his breath hitches and his eyes gloss over, but you see it. He doesn’t cry, not fully, but the tears are threatening to fall. “You don’t want this life,” he says, voice low and brittle. “You think you do now, but you don’t know what it’s like to drown in it. You’d ruin yourself trying to save me.”

“I want to ruin myself for you!” you scream, throat sore from the truth of it. “I would do anything just to keep you. I don’t care what it costs me.” And it’s like a switch flips in him. His expression twists, darkens. He stands suddenly, turning away from you like he can’t bear to look. “That’s the problem,” he snaps, voice sharp now. “You’d throw everything away. Your future, your mind, your fucking soul for me? What kind of person lets someone do that for them?” He spins back toward you, breathing heavily. “You say I don’t hold you back, but I do. I already have. Look at you.”

You flinch like he’s slapped you. His chest heaves, while yours trembles. The room feels too small for the storm you’re both creating. “You think I want you to end up like me?” he says, quieter now, but with just as much heat. “Snorting lines in the dark because it’s the only way I know how to function? You’re not built for this, y/n.” You take a step forward, desperate. “Then help me understand it, let me in, Hee…”

“No!” he shouts, eyes wide now. “I can’t let you in. You don’t belong here with me.” Your voice cracks as you plead, “Then let me love you, please, you’re my life.” Heeseung stares at you like you’re breaking his heart just by standing there. And maybe you are. Then, something in his eyes shifts. The fight drains out of him all at once. His shoulders fall. His brows pinch like he’s physically in pain. He steps forward slowly, and he presses the softest, most painful kiss to your forehead. His lips linger there longer than they should. As if trying to memorize the way your skin feels before he forgets what warmth is.

“I’ll probably never love anyone the way I love you,” he murmurs into your hair. You shut your eyes tight. “Then don’t let me go.” He pulls back, and this time when he looks at you, it’s like he’s already saying goodbye. “I have to.” Your hands fall limp at your sides, you don’t protest again. There’s no grand door slam. No final dramatic words. Just the sound of your footsteps as you walk out of his room and down the hall. 

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

It had been a month. A month since Heeseung kissed your forehead and told you to leave. You hadn’t left your bed much since it happened. Your sheets still smelled like him, and you refused to wash them. The air in your room was stale, but you didn’t open a window. You just laid there, still, like a corpse. 

Every single one of your friends had tried. Mina was the first. She’d climbed into bed with you in the early days, stroking your hair while you stared at the wall. She ordered in your favourite food, but you hadn’t touched a bite. Kira had shown up next, with a playlist titled “Healing Shit (or at least trying)” and a bag full of overpriced face masks. But your face stayed buried in your pillow, unmoving, no matter how gently she whispered your name. Koda and Wren came as a pair. They took turns talking to you like it was a script they rehearsed, one soft and hopeful, the other blunt and real. But even they couldn’t pull you from the hollow place you’d sunk into. Not even Koda’s dumb jokes could summon a smile.

And now it was Jay and Sunghoon. You heard the front door creak open from your spot in bed. You knew it was them before they even reached your room. Something about the heaviness of their footsteps. The way their voices dropped in the hallway like they were already mourning what they were about to see. “y/n?” Jay said your name softly, like he wasn’t sure you’d still respond to it, but you didn’t. Sunghoon stepped in behind him, his brows creased with concern. “Hey. Can we talk?”

Your body curled deeper into the mattress, a feeble attempt at self-preservation. You didn’t look at them, didn’t blink, just stared at the nothingness in front of you. Jay approached first. “Come on,” he murmured, sitting on the edge of your bed. “We miss you. Just... say something.” When you didn’t, he laid beside you, hesitantly at first. One arm slid around your trembling frame as he tucked you into his chest, like maybe he could hold your pieces together before they shattered again. That’s when it hit. The sob tore out of you like it had been clawing up your throat for days. A horrible, guttural sound, ugly and loud and drenched in everything you hadn’t said. Jay just held you tighter, his jaw clenched as he buried his chin in your hair.

Sunghoon sat down on the floor beside the bed, leaning against the frame. His voice was low, soothing. “You’re not alone, y/n. We’re here. We all are. And we’re not going anywhere.” You still didn’t speak. Couldn’t. You just cried until your chest ached and your tears soaked through Jay’s shirt. You didn’t know how to live without Heeseung, and you weren’t even sure you wanted to. You cried until your mind shut off and you drifted into a tear induced slumber, you didn’t notice when they finally left.

Back at the apartment, Jay shut the front door behind them with a sigh, tossing his keys into their key bowl. Sunghoon didn’t say anything until they reached the kitchen, and when he did, it wasn’t lighthearted. “She’s not okay,” he said quietly, grabbing two glasses out of the cupboard. “Like, not at all.” Heeseung was sitting on the couch, slumped low, eyes glassy. The remnants of a high clung to his skin with a thin sheen of sweat, and faint tremble in his hands. He didn’t look up or didn’t speak up. He just listened.

Jay leaned against the counter, arms crossed, his voice laced with worry. “I don’t even recognize her anymore, Hoon. She used to be the brightest one out of all of us. Now she won’t even look at me. Just lies there like she’s waiting to disappear.” Sunghoon exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “She’s not eating. Mina said she hasn’t left her room in almost a week. I saw like five unopened water bottles on her nightstand. She’s not okay, man.”

“She's not even y/n anymore,” Jay added. Heeseung’s throat went dry. He stared blankly at the coffee table, at the rolled-up bill and the near-empty bag of coke. His chest caved in around the weight of their words. His stomach churned. He pressed his knuckles to his mouth, trying to breathe. They were talking about her. He destroyed her, and now she was unraveling exactly the way he thought she would if he stayed with her. He stood up slowly, barely steady on his feet, and disappeared down the hallway. The door to his bedroom shut quietly behind him. And for the first time in weeks, maybe even months, he didn’t reach for the coke. He just sat there on the edge of his bed, face in his hands, and tried to figure out how to live with the ruin he’d made of the only person who ever loved him like he was worth saving.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

It took everything you had just to lift your body out of bed. You moved like you’d been underwater for weeks, every motion slow, unsteady, and heavy. Your legs shook beneath you as you shuffled toward the bathroom. You didn’t even register the mirror hanging on the wall, you didn’t want to see yourself. You just turned on the shower, stripped out of clothes that smelled like you hadn’t changed out of them in days, and stepped under the scalding stream.

You stood there longer than you needed to. By the time you emerged, your skin was red and raw, your eyes already puffy again. You dried off in silence, tugged on your hoodie, well his hoodie, and slipped your wallet into the front pocket. When you walked into the living room, Mina and Kira were curled up on the couch. They looked up at you like they were seeing a ghost slowly reassemble itself. “I’m going for a walk,” you murmured, barely above a whisper. Kira straightened. “Want us to come?” You shook your head in response. “Just need some air. I’ll be back in a week.” They blinked. “What?” You forced a faint, brittle smile. “Kidding.” But your tone was unconvincing, you just walked out before they could press further.

The late afternoon wind cut at your cheeks as you walked aimlessly, hood up, headphones in, playlist on loop. The same seven songs you’d been playing for the last twenty-eight days. Lyrics you could mouth with your eyes closed, melodies that buried themselves in your bones.

You didn’t know how long you wandered before you reached your destination. One of the countless places he used to drag you to. A forgotten street, somewhere between two buildings that always looked like they were on the verge of collapse. You hung back near a busted fence, pretending to scroll on your phone while keeping an eye out. Eventually, you saw him. Heeseungs dealer. You made your way over slowly. He looked up as you approached, and recognition flickered in his eyes. “Heeseung’s girl,” he smirked, and you didn’t respond.

“I want a bag,” you said plainly. “Whatever you’ve got.” The man looked you over. “You ever done this before?” You didn’t answer, causing him to chuckle to himself like it was all a joke. But he still handed you the small plastic bag. You passed him two crumpled twenties from your hoodie pocket. He pocketed the cash and gave you a lazy nod.

“Don’t take the whole thing at once,” he muttered. “It’s strong.” You didn’t care. You walked until your feet hurt. Until you found a lonely curb near some graffiti covered alley, and you sat down. Your hands trembled as you opened the bag. You watched the powder shift. It looked like nothing and everything at once. Just like him. You shook a little onto the back of your hand, like you’d seen him do a hundred times. Tilted your wrist. Bent forward. But the second the powder neared your face, something inside you cracked. The tears came hard, you couldn’t stop them if you tried.

You pulled your hand away, the powder falling across the asphalt. You clutched the bag with shaking fingers, stuffed it back into your pocket, and stood up like your legs were no longer yours. You didn’t even realize where you were walking until you were standing in front of his apartment. The air felt thinner there. You knocked once, and the door swung open quicker than you expected. Jay stood there, mouth parting as soon as he saw your face. You knew what you looked like. Your cheeks were blotchy, and your eyes glassy. You didn’t even try to hide it. “y/n,” he said quietly. “Please don’t do this.”

“I need to see him,” you whispered. Jay glanced over his shoulder into the apartment like he was searching for an excuse. “You’re stronger than this. You’ve made it this far.” You shook your head, a small sob catching in your throat. “I can’t.. I just can’t.” He looked at you again, really looked. His expression softened, falling into something helpless and hollow. You didn’t need to say anything else, Jay stepped aside.

You don’t even knock on his door, you simply turn the doorknob and step inside, the air heavy and quiet, thick with the scent of old smoke and something sharper, something chemical that instantly floods your chest with memories. Heeseung is on his bed, a half-empty glass in one hand, his phone in the other. But the moment the door creaks open and he looks up and he freezes like he’s seen a ghost.

His entire face drops as your eyes meet his. The weight of everything you’ve been holding in for the last month finally collapses. You burst into tears. “y/n?” He’s already standing, his voice strained with disbelief. “What the hell are you doing here?”

But you don’t speak. You just walk toward him, your legs barely steady, and reach into the pocket of your hoodie. You pull out the small bag of white powder, trembling fingers clenched around it like it burns to hold, and you drop it into his palm like it’s evidence. His expression shatters instantly. “No… no, baby, what the fuck is this?” he says, panic rising in his voice. He grips your wrist, gently but firm, and steps closer, cupping your face in both hands. “Did you… did you take this?”

You shake your head, eyes wide and streaming. “I couldn’t.” His thumbs brush over your tear-soaked cheeks as he tilts your head up, examining your nose like it holds the answer. When he sees it’s clean, he exhales in relief and closes his eyes, forehead falling against yours. Neither of you speaks for a long moment. The silence is filled with your sniffles, his staggered breath, the steady beat of time holding its breath, then he pulls you into him.

You crumble against his chest, sobbing so violently your knees nearly give out. His arms wrap around you like he’s afraid of letting you go again. “I love you,” you cry into his hoodie, fists clutching the fabric at his back. “I love you and I can’t live without you, Heeseung. This past month… I wasn’t living, it was torture. It still is.”

“I love you too,” he breathes against your hair, his voice cracking like something inside him is breaking open. “But I’m not good. I’m not safe. I’m a monster, and you’re… fuck, you’re pure light. You’re everything good and I don’t want to take that from you.”

“My light doesn’t exist without you,” you whisper, pulling back just enough to look at him. Your eyes are glassy and red-rimmed, your face flushed from the storm that still hasn’t passed. He just stares at you, jaw tight, guilt swimming in every line of his expression. “You’re my worst desire,” you murmur. “Heaven would be hell without you. And even if we’re doomed to it, I’d still choose hell as long as you’re there.”

His brows knit together, like he’s trying to process your words and stop himself from falling into them all at once. “I don’t want to live without you,” you say again, firmer this time. “My love isn’t conditional. I don’t care about what you’ve done or where you are or what you think you’re becoming. The only place anything feels right is with you.” His chest rises and falls, slow and heavy. “I’m torn, Y/N. Between you and this deeper desire I keep giving into. This path I’m on… it’s dark and it’s fucked and I know it’s going to destroy me. And I don’t want it to take you too.”

You reach up, fingers touching his jaw, gentle and warm. “But I want you. Even through the dark times.” He swallows hard. “I want you. I want to be with you. I want to love you… but I never wanted to destroy you.”

“You won’t,” you whisper, “unless you keep pushing me away.” The war behind his eyes rages on but then, slowly, it softens. His hand lifts to cradle your cheek again, thumb brushing just below your eye. “I don’t know how to stop loving you,” he murmurs. “Then don’t.” You don’t know who moves first. Maybe you both do. But the second your mouths meet, it’s like something primal takes over. He kisses you like he’s been drowning and you’re the first breath of air he’s had in weeks. There’s nothing careful about it now, his hands in your hair, your arms around his neck, bodies crashing together like gravity had finally snapped.

It’s a kiss born from heartbreak, from survival, from all the pieces of your souls trying to find home in each other again. His mouth is hot and desperate against yours, tasting of longing and regret, of everything you’ve both wanted and tried to deny. When he finally pulls back, your lips are swollen, your chest heaving, your heart pounding so loud you’re surprised he can’t hear it.

Heeseung doesn’t let you go, his lips hover above yours, breath warm and shallow, and for a moment neither of you speaks. You just stay pressed together, hands curled in his shirt, his fingers brushing along your jaw like he’s trying to memorize the curve of your face all over again. Then he kisses you again, slower this time.

His hands cup your cheeks, and your fingers tangle in his hair as he pours every unsaid word into your mouth. It’s messy and a little frantic, but softer than before. Softer because this time, there’s no desperation behind it, just clarity. “I love you,” he breathes against your lips, barely pulling away. “Fuck, I love you so much.” You nod, tears still slipping down your cheeks. “I love you too.” He rests his forehead against yours, eyes shut like he’s trying not to fall apart again. “I’ll try to quit. I swear to you, I’ll try. I don’t want to keep losing myself and I can’t live without you. Not again.” Your hands tighten around him. “I want to be yours,” he says. “Like really yours. Your boyfriend. I want to be better, for you. I want to try.”

Your breath catches in your throat, then you’re nodding, over and over, and your arms wrap tighter around his neck as you pull him into another kiss, this one slower, and sweeter, like the kind of kiss you’d always hoped he’d give you when it finally felt right. Heeseung’s hands slide beneath your thighs, and with no effort at all, he lifts you off the ground and carried you towards his bed. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, your face tucked into the crook of his neck. 

He lays you down carefully on the bed, then slides in beside you, immediately pulling you into his arms like he’s scared you’ll disappear if he blinks. You don’t speak for a while, you just lie there, tangled up together in the dark, wrapped in sheets that still faintly smell like him. His hand strokes your hair, your back, the curve of your hip. You feel his lips press gently to your forehead, your cheeks, the bridge of your nose.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers between kisses. “For everything. For leaving you. For making you feel like I didn’t care. I was scared. I still am.” You reach up and trace his jaw with your thumb, your heart aching at how sincere his eyes look in the dim room. “It’s okay,” you whisper. “You’re here now. We’re here now.” He leans in, brushes your lips with his. “I’ll be better for you.”

“You already are.” You press your face into his chest and he holds you tighter. His heartbeat is loud beneath your ear, and for the first time in what feels like forever, it doesn’t feel like your body is made of hollow spaces and shattered glass. It feels like safety.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

You wake up to the sound of his breathing. It was slow, steady, almost peaceful. For a moment, you let yourself believe that last night wasn’t a dream. That the pain is over, the ache behind you, and this is the start of something real. His arm is slung around your waist, warm and heavy, anchoring you to the mattress. You barely slept, too afraid he’d disappear again. But now, in the soft haze of morning, wrapped in his arms, you let your eyes close just for a second.

Until he stirs behind you. You feel the subtle shift in his body. The way his breath catches in his throat. His arm retracts like your skin burned him. “Wait…” his voice rasps, still thick with sleep, “what the fuck…” Your stomach drops, as you turn slowly, blinking at him like maybe you’re the one who’s confused. “What?”

His eyes are wide and bloodshot. There’s dried powder crusted faintly under one nostril and a tiny streak still smeared across the back of his hand. “What are you doing here?” he asks, genuine confusion etched across his face. Your lips part, but no sound comes out. You’re too stunned, too disoriented by the sharp contrast to the boy who held you like you were the only thing tethering him to the earth just hours ago.

“I came over last night… You said you loved me,” you finally whisper. “You said you wanted to try. That you didn’t want to lose me.” He stares, the silence between you gnaws at your chest like something alive. “I don’t…” he swallows. “Fuck, I don’t remember that.” The words hit you harder than a slap. You sit up too fast, the sheets falling away from your body as you shake your head. “You don’t remember anything?” His eyes flicker. Guilt creeps in slowly. “I was coming down. I’d done a lot before you showed up. I didn’t know-”

“So it didn’t matter?” you cut him off, voice barely above a whisper. “None of it was real?”

“I didn’t say that,” he snaps, defensive now. “Don’t twist my words.”

“I’m not twisting anything. You don’t even remember me being here.” Your voice trembles. “You don’t remember kissing me. You said you’d try to quit. You asked me to stay.” He runs both hands through his hair like he wants to rip it out. “I meant it, okay? I meant it in the moment.”

“But the moment’s gone,” you say bitterly, standing from the bed. “And now we’re here.” Heeseung gets up too, anger simmering under his skin. “What, you want me to magically fix everything overnight? You think it’s that simple?”

“I never said that.”

“Then what do you want, Y/N? You want me to turn into someone I’m not?”

“I want you to have not been high last night!” you yell, the words coming out strangled. “I want you to care! I want you to stop making me feel like I’m the only one who’s trying!” He’s pacing now, barefoot on the floor, frantic and twitchy. “You don’t get it. You don’t know what it’s like in my head. I’m not built for this shit.”

“I know you’re not,” you say, voice cracking. “But I thought maybe you’d try. For me.” He freezes. His back is to you, shoulders tense. “I want to. I just… I don’t think I can.” You feel it again, that collapse inside your chest. The same one you’ve been patching together with hope and denial for months. “Then say it,” you whisper. “Say you don’t want this. Say you don’t want me.” He turns slowly, and something in his face softens. It almost breaks you. “I do want you,” he admits. “But I want this too.” He gestures vaguely to the room, the remnants of his high, the destruction he clings to like a security blanket. “And that makes me a monster.”

You step back like the words physically hurt. “You said I was your angel.”

“You are.” His voice cracks. “Which is why I need you to go.” You shake your head. “You told me you loved me.”

“I do,” he breathes. “God, I do. But I’ll ruin you.”

“You already did. I just got you back, Heeseung…”

The silence stretches thick between you. Then he takes a step forward, like he might try to hold you, but you back away. You can’t do this again, not when he couldn’t even remember the night before. He swallows hard, eyes glassy.  “Please,” he says, voice barely audible. “Don’t make me watch you walk away.” You blink back tears, throat tight. “Then give me a reason to stay.”

But he doesn’t. So you do the one thing you swore you never would.

You leave.

And like always, he lets you go.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

four months later

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

Four months pass in the blink of an eye. The day is warm, the sun soft and golden overhead as you stand with Mina, Kira, Koda, and Wren, all dressed in your black gowns and sashes, your caps still held in your hands. The air around you buzzes with excitement, laughter, and the kind of bittersweet energy that only comes with the closing of a chapter. The moment your names are called, one by one, a flood of emotions washes over you. Pride, relief, even a sense of sadness.

And then you’re all standing in a circle, diplomas in hand, faces flushed with joy, and on the count of three, you throw your caps into the air, the five of you screaming and laughing as they soar above your heads and fall like confetti. It should feel like the beginning of everything. And in a way, it does. But for you, it’s also the end.

After the ceremony, you spot Sunghoon weaving through the crowd, his smile blinding, a massive bouquet of deep red roses tucked under his arm. He beelines straight for Koda, scooping her up into a tight hug, lifting her right off the ground as she squeals in surprise. “Proud of you, babe,” he grins, pressing a kiss to her temple. Then he turns to the rest of you, handing off flowers and congratulations like they’re going out of style. He hugs you next, warm and genuine and it makes your eyes sting just a little.

Before you can blink, someone else wraps their arms around you from behind. “Graduated and still short,” Jay teases into your ear. You laugh despite yourself and lean into the embrace. “I missed you too, asshole,” you say, wiping your cheek quickly as if that’ll hide how emotional you are. He holds you for a second longer, then pulls back, flashing you that crooked grin. “Proud of you. You did it.” You force a smile at his words, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

Later that night, you all cram into a booth at your favorite Korean BBQ spot, the table stacked with plates of sizzling meat, clinking glasses, and side dishes passed back and forth. Everyone’s talking over each other, laughing too loud, singing along to whatever songs are playing overhead. Kira leans into you, whispering about how Wren made eyes at the waiter. Mina’s halfway into her second soju bottle. Koda is pressed into Sunghoon’s side like a missing piece finally clicked into place.

It’s familiar, and yet you feel like you’re watching it from behind glass. When Jay offers to drive you home, you don’t hesitate.

The apartment feels quieter than usual. Like the walls know something is ending. You’re sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of your suitcase, folding your last hoodie with shaking hands. The corners don’t line up properly, but you can’t bring yourself to refold it again. Your fingers are trembling too hard. Jay stands by your desk, watching you in silence. He’s been quiet since you let him in. He hasn’t touched his drink. He hasn’t touched anything.

You try to lighten the mood, forcing a soft chuckle as you zip your suitcase closed. “Guess that’s everything.” Jay doesn’t smile. “Doesn’t feel like everything.” You glance up at him. He’s staring at your suitcase like it just punched him in the gut. You swallow hard, “Jay…”

“Are you sure about this?” You turn away, pretending to check the zipper again even though it’s fine. “I wouldn’t be doing it if I wasn’t.” He takes a few steps closer. The floor creaks beneath his feet. “You don’t have to go, Y/N. You really don’t. You could stay. Start over. We could help you.” Your chest tightens. You press your palm flat against the suitcase like it’ll keep you grounded. “I can’t stay here,” you whisper. “Everything here reminds me of him.” Jay exhales sharply, and it’s the closest thing to a crack in his composure you’ve ever seen.

“Y/N…” He drags a hand through his hair and sits down beside you on the floor. He doesn’t touch you, but you can feel the warmth of him beside you, like a question. “I thought leaving would make it easier,” you admit, voice trembling. “But all I feel is like I’m abandoning him.” Jay finally meets your eyes, and your resolve breaks. 

The tears come without warning, hot and relentless, blurring your vision as you lean into him and bury your face in his shoulder. He wraps his arms around you without hesitation, holding you like he’s been waiting months to do it, like maybe if he holds you tight enough, he can keep you from slipping away. You sob into his hoodie, shaking like a leaf. “I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to leave him behind.”

Jay’s hand finds the back of your head, gentle, grounding. “You don’t have to leave him behind forever,” he murmurs. “Just long enough to find yourself again.” You pull back slowly, your cheeks soaked, your throat raw. “Promise me something?” He nods without hesitation. “Look after him. Please. I know he’s not easy. I know he’s… a lot. But I’m terrified he’ll destroy himself without someone watching.” Jay’s jaw tenses. “You really love him, huh?” You nod. “With everything. Even when I shouldn’t.”

He reaches for your hand, squeezes it tightly. “I’ll watch over him. I promise. But you have to promise me something too.” You look at him through watery eyes. “Don’t disappear. Call sometimes. Text. Hell, send a postcard.” You let out a wet laugh and nod, then fall forward into his arms again, hugging him like it’s the last piece of safety you’ll get to hold onto. “Let me take you to the airport tomorrow?” he says against your hair.

You nod into his chest. “Yeah. Please.”

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

The blinds in Heeseung’s room are drawn, bathing everything in a murky shade of grey. His ashtray is full. The rolled-up twenty on his desk is crooked and frayed at the edge from too many nights like this. He’s flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling like it holds answers. His jaw ticks, fingers drumming against his stomach. There’s a weight in his chest that won’t budge, no matter how many hits he takes.

The door creaks open without a knock. It’s Jay. Heeseung doesn’t look. Doesn’t move. Just closes his eyes and lets out a long breath through his nose.

“She’s leaving.” The words land like a punch to the ribs, causing Heeseung to blink his eyes open. “Huh?”

Jay steps further inside. “Y/N. She’s moving. Tomorrow. “I’m taking her to the airport.” Heeseung sits up too fast, his heart dropping into his gut. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” A long pause followed. Heeseung scoffs, running a hand through his already mussed hair, the tension rippling through his limbs like a pulled wire. “So let her go.” Jay’s expression flattens. “Are you serious right now?” Heeseung shrugs, but his eyes don’t match the indifference in his voice. “She wants to leave. Let her.”

“She doesn’t want to leave, Heeseung. She’s hurting. Because of you.”

“Well, maybe she should’ve thought about that before falling for a fucking loser.” Jay’s voice goes sharp. “You’re not a loser. You’re just a fucking coward.” Heeseung’s head snaps toward him. “You think I don’t know what I am?!” His voice cracks. “You think I haven’t been dying every fucking day since I told her to go?!”

“Then why didn’t you stop her?!”

“BECAUSE I’M IN LOVE WITH HER!” Heeseung roars, pushing up to his feet with such force the chair beside his desk shakes. His chest heaves, eyes wild and glassy. Jay doesn’t back down. “Then fight for her.”

“I did!” Heeseung yells again, slamming a hand against the wall hard enough to make a picture frame rattle. “I fought by letting her go. She was dying here! Dying because of me. She had everything in front of her and I kept dragging her back into my mess-”

“So clean up the fucking mess!”

Heeseung’s fists ball at his sides. Jay’s breathing hard now, too. “You sit here pretending you’re some tragic antihero who saved her by breaking her heart. But that’s not love, Heeseung. That’s fear.”

The words hang heavy, and Heeseung doesn’t respond. Jay stares at him a moment longer, jaw clenched, eyes filled with something halfway between rage and heartbreak. “You still have time to fix this. But if you don’t even try… then maybe you never really loved her in the first place.” Jay turned and storms out. The door slams so hard the walls shake. Heeseung doesn’t move, barely breathes.

He lowers himself back onto his bed, collapsing like his body has nothing left to give. He stares at the ceiling again, but this time, his eyes burn. His thoughts race, every image of you, every soft whisper, every tear you’d shed, every moment he threw away playing like a reel behind his eyes.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

The airport smells like burnt coffee and fresh paper. You stand beside Jay at your gate, your suitcase at your feet, ticket clutched loosely in one hand, passport in the other. Your hoodie sleeves are pulled over your knuckles, and your headphones hang useless around your neck, silent for once. Jay is quiet next to you, his arm brushing yours every so often in silent solidarity. He knows better than to fill the silence with small talk.

Then, the presence of your friend group livens up the airport. You hear them before you see them, but you couldn’t mistake Koda’s excited voice carrying over the low hum of travel noise. You turn and see her weaving through the crowd, pulling Sunghoon behind her with one hand, the other waving high above her head. Behind them are Kira, Mina, and Wren, all bundled in mismatched layers, like they’d rushed out the door without checking the weather.

The sight makes your throat tighten.

They all reach you at once, surrounding you in hugs and laughter that feels too bright for how heavy your chest feels. Kira grabs your hands in hers and squeezes, her smile watery. Mina wipes her eyes before the tears even fall. Wren just hugs you so tightly your back cracks. “I’m proud of you,” Koda says, pressing her forehead against yours. “I can’t believe you’re actually going,” Sunghoon mutters, voice quiet but sincere. You try to smile. “Me either.”

But as they all talk over each other, asking about your flight, telling you to text them when you land, suggesting a ridiculous group chat name, your eyes can’t help but drift toward the crowd behind them, like you’re searching. Jay catches the glance. He doesn’t say anything right away. Just watches you for a long moment before gently tugging on your sleeve. “He’s not coming.”

You blink, startled by how calmly he says it. “I talked to him,” Jay continues, keeping his voice low so the others won’t overhear. “But… I don’t think he’ll show.” You nod, eyes dropping to the floor. You expected it, you told yourself not to hope. But hope is cruel. Hope has a sharp edge.

“I know,” you whisper. “It’s okay.” Jay doesn’t say anything. He knows it’s not okay. But he nods like it is, and you’re grateful for it. The loudspeaker crackles overhead, boarding group numbers being called. You glance down at your ticket. That’s you. “Well,” you say, forcing a bright smile, “that’s me.” You start hugging everyone again, slower this time. There’s something about knowing it’s going to be the last one for a while that makes your arms ache to hold onto them longer.

“You’ll call, right?” Kira whispers into your shoulder. “Every day,” you promise. Jay is the last one you face. His arms wrap around you with a familiarity that makes your heart ache in a different way. “Thank you,” you murmur. “For what?” He asks with a small chuckle to his voice. “For everything.” He squeezes you a little tighter. “I got you. Always.” And still, your eyes flick one more time to the crowd, searching for dark eyes, messy hair, broad shoulders. One more time for the boy who made and broke your heart all at once, but he’s not there. So you pick up your bag, and you walk away, waving goodbye to your friends as you approached your gate..

And you don’t look back.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

The moment the plane touched down, a strange stillness settled in your chest. You were exhausted, emotionally rung out, and yet the moment the pilot announced your arrival in Sydney, Australia, your body moved on autopilot. New country. New air. New version of you.

You weave through the crowd in the airport, dodging people with overstuffed carry-ons and neck pillows clinging to their shoulders. Your headphones are around your neck now, but they’re quiet. The music that once drowned everything out is replaced by the hum of unfamiliar accents and baggage claim announcements. Your heart is thudding a little too loud as you make your way toward the carousel, scanning for your suitcase. It’s a sea of black and navy bags, all tumbling past with urgency, like they know where they’re going. 

Someone steps in front of you just as your bag slides into view, and you don’t see them in time. The collision is instant and forceful, your shoulder hits theirs, your foot catches something, and the next thing you know, you’re both on the ground, bags and limbs tangled in a graceless heap of chaos.

“Oh my god… I’m so sorry, are you okay?” you gasp, sitting up and scrambling to gather your bearings. “No, no, that was me, I wasn’t watching, shit are you alright?” a voice responds, rushed and sincere. Your hand brushes his arm as you both reach for the same fallen backpack. And then your eyes meet. Warm brown eyes. Tousled blond hair. Sun-kissed skin. A dimple threatening the corner of his cheek as he smiles sheepishly. There’s a pause. A stillness. The universe, just for a moment, seems to exhale.

You blink, and then he extends a hand to help you up, fingers curling gently around yours with a touch that doesn’t feel like a beginning, but like something inevitable.

“I’m Jake.”

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

a/n ; omg guys I can't believe bad desire is finally here. I've been working on this fanfic for LITERALLY months, and then when bad desire came out I knew I had to find someway to incorporate it. but anyways, thank you so much for the love you gave the teaser and I hope you all like the full story! maybe there's room for a part two?

tag list ; @lostgirlysstuff @hoonprksung @nithxhoon @rayofsunshineeee @wooyugta @fancypeacepersona