knocking softly, that familiar mix of confidence and mischief in his eyes.
Everyone called him a “bagets,” always playful, always naughty—but with me, he was different. The moment he stepped inside, the air shifted. His smile carried trouble, the kind that makes your heartbeat race.
He’d drop on my bed like he owned the place, teasing me, drawing closer, whispering things he knew would melt my resolve. And every time, I let him—because there was something about him… his warmth, his charm, the way he looked at me like I was his favorite secret.
It was dangerous. It was thrilling.
But most of all—
it was ours.
To view, DOUBLE CLICK/ LONG PRESS the link above. Enjoy 💦
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