#I FINALLY HAD THE TIME/ MOTIVATION TO RECORD

[stabbyfoxandrew]

I love Arson Neil as much as the next, but angel neil has a special place in my heart. I’ll take all the content for them I can!!

WIP Wednesday (1/15) | Guardian Angel Neil AU (Part 262)

After assuring Neil he's fine two more times and making the angel eat, Andrew finally has to go back downstairs and get ready for class. Before he does that though, he cuts himself a large slice of Andrew-cake and scoops an ungodly amount of ice cream on top. He props himself against the counter to scarf it down just as Aaron comes out of the bedroom with his bag. He gives Andrew a look of disbelief.

“You’re going to make yourself sick.”

“I’m already sick.” Andrew smiles, rattling his pocket. Aaron sighs and declines to argue, for once. Good for him.

-

By the weekend, Andrew has finished his birthday cake all by himself in what Kevin called a horrifying feat. Andrew calls it a record. Same difference, he supposes. On Saturday, the Foxes win a game by three whole points which shocks the entire exy world according to those stupid websites Kevin frequents. The Foxes themselves were surprised considering they hadn't been able to practice much in the last week. Little did they know Andrew had a certain someone in the stands he felt the need to impress. His ability to shut down the goal is ultimately what decided  the game and everyone knew it.

They didn't understand it, but they didn't question his sudden motivation either. Mostly. After the game Reynolds suggested that his magic pills had finally kicked in and Aaron told her to go fuck herself with a screwdriver, which earned him a couple points in Andrew's book. For creativity mostly. Andrew had to pull a knife on Gordon a second later and threatened to disembowel anyone who laid a hand on Aaron in the same breath, that got him dragged away by his sleeve via Wymack.

[the-rat-library]

Me, finally finished recording a script I've been aching to get done for like two weeks: :D

Me, realising my mic wasn't fucking working: D:

[esbielle]

please forgive my most passionate disruptions, written by @pumpkinpaix and read by esbielle, is now finally complete! You can check the whole podfic now on ao3!

[chaussetteblanche]

and they were roommates pt. 2

pairing : Spencer Reid x fem!student!roommate!reader summary : the BAU team works the case, you get to help word count : 2.3k warning : canon-typical violence, mention of violence and sexual violence A/N : thank you all so much for all the love on part 1 of this !!! I love getting feedback, it's incredibly motivating ! I will probably do a part 3 :)) Also, my cat is sitting next to me as I write this, which I find quite funny

part 1, part 3, part 4

Back at the police station, Spencer had trouble focusing on the case. His mind kept wandering over to you, wondering what you were doing, how you were doing. He was on edge and the entire team could feel it. Hotch pulled him to the side to ask him if he wanted to give you a phone call. Reid refused, but settled on sending you a text, something he never usually did while working. Something he never usually did because he wasn't the biggest fan of technology and also because he couldn't decipher how you were actually feeling without hearing your voice and all the quirks in the way you spoke which gave away your real feelings.

Sent by Dr. Ironed Socks : < Hey. How are you doing? > Sent by You : < Ok, I'm having a tea on the couch. Geoff is in REM sleep on my lap. Thx for checking <3 >

Your text was followed by a pixelly picture of your slightly overweight (Spencer couldn't use that term to describe Geoffrey around you or you'd get upset) orange cat sprawled out on your lap, legs and arms askew, fast asleep. Spencer felt a small wave of relief spread through him. You were okay for now. Geoffrey was looking after you. Later, he'd help you process and give you all the tools necessary to get over such a traumatic event and move on. It was almost as if that was in his job description.

Returning to the room where the BAU team had settled in, Spencer sent Hotch a grateful nod. Hotch moved his lips in what resembled a small smile, Reid couldn't be sure. "Okay," Garcia's voice resounded from the speaker sitting in the middle of the round table, "I've contacted all of Mary Goldman's professors and it turns out she didn't go to class today. Her first class was at 11:30 but she never showed up." "None of the students we interrogated on campus had seen her after 10:15," Emily spoke up. "Spencer's roommate saw her between 10:30 and 11:00," Rossi intervened. "Okay, we'll get her to come in," Hotch affirmed. Spencer's whole body tensed. You had been the last person to see the victim. His mind was so busy reeling, thinking about everything you'd have to go through as the most promising witness, that he missed Morgan's question.

"Reid?" Derek raised an eyebrow. "Uh, sorry, what did you say?" "What was the time of death according to the coroner?" "14:30," Rossi answered. "It was 14:26, actually," corrected Reid. Rossi rolled his eyes. "Okay, so the unsub has his victim between around, let's say 11:15, and 14:26," Rossi shot a pointed look at Spencer, "that's about three hours and 11 minutes. In those three hours, he had time to take the victim someplace where neither of them would be seen or heard, beat and sexually assault her, and finally dump her in smack-dab in front of the university." "He's definitely organised and wants to send a message," Emily thought aloud. "But what is he trying to say? Look at what I can do? You can't stop me?" "Friends," interrupted Garcia, "I'm going to need at least some information before I even try to get anything out of a search. He's taking and leaving them on campus, so I'm guessing he doesn't necessarily need a vehicle. Does he live in the area?" "Yes, he's local or knows the area, he knows these women and he most likely knows the campus. Search for white males, early twenties with a record of violence and sexual misconduct. Cross-reference that with victims of reported abuse and sexual abuse in the last twenty five years. Run background checks for all university staff. Also have a look at similar victims and MOs in this area in the last five years. This may not be his first time," spoke Hotch. "On it, I'll get back to you when I've found something." "Thanks, Garcia."

You'd taken a shower as soon as you'd arrived home. The water was too hot and you'd scrubbed your skin too hard but getting out, you felt a slight bit better. Heavily disliking the way you still felt, you opted for a cup of Earl Grey tea with milk and sugar. Settling on the couch with a steaming cup in your hands, you tucked your legs beneath you and sighed.

Images of Mary's dead body were printed onto the inside of your eyelids. You still couldn't believe it. Your mind reeled as you tried to think of an explanation for it all. Whichever path you followed, you came up empty. You could not comprehend or imagine any reason of taking the life of an innocent person, especially in such a violent way. Luckily for you, you still didn't know the extent of the violence.

A familiar noise pulled you from your dark thoughts. Geoffrey had just jumped down from his cat tree. You watched him stretch and languidly walk over to you. He meowed once before jumping onto the couch, right next to you. You moved your legs so that you were sitting cross-legged and scratched his head. He purred in delight and pressed himself against you. He sniffed at your tea with an unimpressed look before climbing into your lap before letting himself flop down on his side, stretching out his appendages. You cooed as his pink toe-beans stretched too and laid a hand on his belly, scratching gently. The vibrations of his purrs had a calming effect on you. "Are you trying to make me forgive you for biting my ankle the other day when I wouldn't give you any more treats? You know Spencer says you're a bit overweight, I was just trying to get him to stop body-shaming you, my love..."

A few minutes later, you get a text from Spencer. About thirty minutes after that, you get a phone call from him. "Hey, would you mind coming to the station? It turns out you're the last person to have seen the victim."

"I'll do the cognitive interview." "Reid, I don't think that's a good idea." "Look, yes I'm invested, I know that. But I also know her and-" "Reid, no. This is the reason we such have procedures." "But I-" "Reid." Hotchner's tone translated finality. Spencer's shoulders sank in defeat. He had figured that if he had been the one conducting the interview, maybe it would have been less traumatic for you. He hated the idea of not being there for you, with you, during such a trying moment. He bit his bottom lip.

"I'll do it," volunteered Morgan. Reid felt slight comfort at that, Morgan was one of the few people he would entrust his life to. He could entrust you to him for the interview, even if he didn't like it. Hotchner nodded. "Reid, you work with Garcia, focus on finding other victims with the same MO to help build the profile." Reid nodded and went to find his colleagues.

When you entered the police station, it was almost like he could feel your presence. He came to find you straight away, not wanting to leave alone even for a second. "Hey." "Hey." Reid immediately pulled you in for a meaningful embrace, burying his face in your hair. The smell of your shampoo, conditionner and body wash were bliss to his nostrils. They were a promise that you were here, you were safe, you were okay. Morgan watched from afar, a small smile playing at his lips. He knew Reid, and the hug you exchanged was both too hasty and too tight to be anything casual. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry to have to make you come in, but they're going to do- well I wanted to do it but they wouldn't let me, so it's-"

A slightly older, very muscular and gentle man stepped forward, holding out his hand to you. You shook it. "I'm Agent Derek Morgan. I'm one of Spencer's colleagues. I'll be the one conducting the interview, seeing as there's a conflict of interest with you and Spencer. I hope you can understand that." You introduced yourself and looked at Spencer before answering Derek. "Yes, I understand, it's- it's not a problem." "Great, if you could just follow me, please?" You licked your lips and sent Spencer a look, which he answers with a nod of reassurance and a small smile, before following Derek.

"You can close your eyes if it makes you more comfortable." You were sat in an uncomfortable plastic chair. The light above you was ticking at uneven intervals and the room smelt of worry. You didn't know how you could get any more comfortable, but listening to Morgan's even, alto voice helped a bit. "Okay." You closed your eyes. "You told Agent Rossi that you crossed the victim somewhere around quarter to eleven. Is that correct?" "Uh, yes." "Where did you cross her?" "In the main hall." "Where were you going?" "Um, I had just been to the bathroom and I was heading to my Anglo-American Literary Survey class." "Okay, can you describe to me everything about the moment when you crossed the victim? What you saw, what you felt, smelled, heard? Was anything out of the ordinary?" You opened your eyes.

"Um, I'm sorry, but could you stop referring to Mary as the victim, please? She has a name, which is Mary Goldman, and a victim wasn't the only thing she was." Derek was slightly surprised at your comment but understood where you came from. Separating from the name was a way for profilers to gain some distance from the horrendous violence. Personally knowing the victim, you didn't have such luxury. "Of course, I apologise. What did you feel when you crossed Mary? Was anything out of place?"

You nodded in thanks and tried to bring yourself back to that moment. It seemed unreal, how such a small interaction suddenly held such importance. "O-Okay, uh, my hands are still a bit wet. There weren't any towels in the bathroom. I saw her after she saw me and we exchanged a smile. I thought she looked really pretty today, but I didn't tell her. We really don't know each other that well." "Okay, that's good. Was she wearing anything out of habit for her?" "Uhh, no, she was wearing a pleated skirt and a sweater vest. She often dresses like that, I don't know exactly why I thought she looked pretty. I guess she just looked happy. Nothing was out of the ordinary." "Good. Could you hear or smell anything?" "Yeah, well, there were the voices of other people in the hall. I can hear girls laughing. I smell Mary's perfume when she walks past me. She always wears the same one, it's Chanel, Mademoiselle Coco specifically, she told me once at a party."

"Okay, do you know where she's going?" "I- yeah, she's heading for her Behavioural Neuroscience class." "Is she walking in the right direction?" "Uh... Yes, yes, she is. She's not in too much of a hurry, though, she doesn't like the teacher." "So why is she heading there already, then? The class only starts at 11:30." "She likes to reread the material from the previous week before the class starts." "Why doesn't she like the teacher?" "No one does, all he does is read off his slides and he's a jerk when it comes to grading."

Morgan suppressed a smile at your comment. "Okay, thank you so much, Y/N, this was very helpful." "Was it? I didn't feel like-" "Yes, I promise you've just shared some crucial pieces of information." "O-Okay, if you say so."

All eyes were on Morgan as he entered the briefing room. He put his paper coffee cup down on the table and looked at Hotch. "Nothing was out of the ordinary. Mary was wearing habitual clothes and the same perfume she always wore. She was heading to the same class, as she did weekly, at the same time. My guess is this guy knew her routine and did a blitz attack. Y/N gave me the number of Mary's best friend, and according to her, Mary didn't have any guys in her life except for her dad and brother."

Hotchner nodded. Spencer couldn't help but feeling proud of you for being able to go through with the interview and to provide such useful information, too. He'd have to congratulate you when he got home. "Pretty boy and I found three similar victims in the last three years. They weren't connected to this case because they were in another university, just on the other side of the state line. Last year, three girls, university students, were killed, same MO, all disappeared for about three hours before being found dead in front of the university, they attended," Garcia spoke from the speaker. Spencer nodded in agreement to her words. "What did the police find back then?" asked Emily. "Nothing, they- uh, did all they could during the month that the three murders happened but after the third victim, the unsub stopped," Spencer answered. "Stopped?" Emily repeated, brows drawn together in confusion. "Yeah, he just- stopped killing and disappeared. Our best guess is that something triggered him then and that the same thing triggered him now."

"Oh, another thing," Garcia sounded reluctant to share the information she had, "I looked at all the victims' pictures and... well, I'll just send them to you, that'll be easier."

Spencer's blood ran ice cold as he stared at the four girls on the screen. They all looked exactly like you.

Taglist : (all those of you who wanted a part two <3) @princess-ofthe-pages @usuck @theylovemelody @empressgraytea @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @lillianacristina

[cryptidghostgirl]

hii i read your fic with the humanalastor! x reader where they become like partners in crime (i loved it sm)

and got an idea based off of it

what if Alastor dies first and a few years later Alastor and the reader reunite after she goes to the hotel? thought it would be kinda cute :)

A/N ngl I was thinking of doing something like this so I am very happy it is desired by the people as well. Also, we're gonna pretend that the timeline I created wouldn't make her like over a hundred years old when she died, okay? Okay.

Cover Up Pt. 2 (Alastor x Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of murder and blood, nothing graphic. Alastor being a depressed little bitch. Also a lot of dead bird metaphors for lost hope. Please let me know if I forgot anything.

Word Count: 1,971

Part One: Cover Up (Human!Alastor x Human!Reader)

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

When Alastor had died, Y/n had shattered. Their years of holding one another's bloodstained hands had finally drawn to a close. They had a good run, nearly a decade before anyone caught on. His death also came with the added downside of throwing suspicion on Y/n. To say the event changed her life would be an understatement.

When Alastor had first woken up in Hell, he had mourned his loss as if she was the one who had died and not him. The allowance of such a foolish thing was short lived. He quickly realized there was no way Y/n wouldn't end up in Hell as well eventually, with her track record. He refocused his pain, his anguish into making sure he had the perfect world to serve up to her on a platter as soon as she arrived.

As the years ticked on, the little bird fluttering away in his ribcage became more and more despondent. He tried to distract himself by continuing his work, continuing his plans for her. Always for her. It worked to a certain extent but, soon it had been sixty years and she still hadn't made her arrival. It didn't matter how many overlords he killed, how many worthless souls he tortured. There was nothing that could take his mind off that.

Alastor wondered what sort of life Y/n had made for herself after his death. He wondered if she had found love again, held out hope that she hadn't. It was a selfish wish, he knew it. Alastor had always been selfish. It wasn't that he wished for her to be unhappy, just that he knew she was the only person, living or dead, out there for him. There was no hope for Alastor that wasn't Y/n and he wanted her to feel the same way about him. He didn't want to lose, to have been an idiot, to have been the one that loved more. At the same time, he didn't want her to feel that way either. It was complicated and confusing, the twists of his own logic.

Another decade and he began wondering if somehow his beloved wife had gotten into Heaven instead. He knew it was a long shot, after everything she had done but, she had also never killed anyone who didn't deserve it. Maybe there was some exception for women who killed their pursuers, when the pursuers were coming on too intensely or had ulterior motives. He wondered if she'd remarried, if she had kids. If she was still on earth, there would have to be something that was keeping her there and that was the only thing that made sense.

Eighty years, as it turned out, had been all he could take. The bird had died and its corpse had rotted, festering into anger. Not anger at Y/n no, never anger at Y/n but anger at the world, at the system of the afterlife. He became bolder, brasher, more foolish. He got caught in a bad deal.

Coming to the hotel had been a command, yes, but it had also ended up being something of a salvation for the man. In the seven years of his disappearance from the rings of Hell, there had been little to distract him from the growing hole of Y/n's absence. It was a hungry thing, a deep seated want, a controlling desire. The hotel served to fill it. Not completely, but a little. It was better than nothing. Besides, for all her violence, Y/n had always had a way of seeing the best in others, in the world around her. He was certain she would have liked Charlie if she ever got to meet her, certain the hotel would shine in his wife's eyes.

Husk and Nifty were the only two who knew. They had both met him when Alastor's focus had been the creation of a world for Y/n, it was impossible for them not to. They had both noticed how as the years had passed, he had said her name less, how he had become crueler. Not even Charlie had in inkling of an idea that Alastor might be missing something, might be unshakable heartbroken. He hid it well.

Even now as he entered the lobby intent on finding Charlie in order to discuss some of the decor on the upper floors, he made sure his smile was firmly fixed in place. A smile was the strongest weapon a person or demon could have, the strongest disguise. He made sure he was never without one.

"So you just arrived today?" he heard Charlie saying as he began to make his way down the stairs.

He could see her by the door, talking to a demon whom her position obscured from his vision. A new guest. Internally, Alastor sighed. This was throwing a wrench into his plans for the day.

"Yeah I... it's all so confusing here. Wonderful in a way, don't get me wrong but... when I heard about your hotel, it seemed safe."

The unknown demon's voice was soft, it pulled at his heart strings. The corpse of the bird was a puppet at its familiarity. It was a sickening feeling, the dead body of his hope being pulled up and twitched around for another's unknowing amusement. Alastor nearly faltered, hesitating on the last step.

"So are you actually interested in redemption?" Charlie asked, sounding downcast.

"Well, I'm not really sure yet. Is that okay? I mean, I just got here today and... either way, I love the idea of your hotel and I want to help. I could work as a maid? Or I'm a pretty good cook? My husband always said so anyways. I'm sort of trying to find someone too so... What I'm trying to say is that I could work until I've figured it out, if that is alright with you?"

Charlie hummed in thought as Alastor began to cross the room, heading straight for the pair.

"It's a bit unorthodox but, I suppose. We could always use another helping hand."

"Really!?" the stranger exclaimed, "Oh thank you!"

Alastor was over Charlie's shoulder practically now. She shifted on her feet, allowing Alastor to at last see the person she was talking to.

"So, what's your name?"

The demon opened her mouth to speak but, before a word could leave her lips, she was interrupted by a static filled voice. It brought back memories, hurt her heart to hear.

"Y/n."

There was no doubt about it. Even in her new demon form, Alastor knew. It was the curl of her hair, it was the brightness of her eyes, the way she held herself. She looked up at him with wide eyes.

"When did you get here?" Charlie asked in confusion as she turned to the side, turning the pair into a group of three all facing one another, "Also, you know her? Oh my gosh, wait. Are you okay? I don't think I've ever seen you not smiling before."

Neither payed the princess any mind, each absorbed in one another's eyes. Y/n took a sutering half step forwards, her mouth slightly open.

"Alastor?"

It was barley more than a whisper. She took another step towards him, then yet another. Lifting her hand, she gently cupped it around his cheek. Instinctively, the Radio Demon leaned into the touch.

"It really is you... isn't it."

Alastor pulled Y/n into his arms, wrapping her in his frame and resting his chin on the top of her head. Y/n was frozen in shock for a moment before she returned the gesture, balling her fists in to the back of his coat.

"Wow. You guys really know each other." Charlie mumbled to herself, eyes wide.

The pair pulled apart, Alastor still holding Y/n's waist as Y/n held his coat. She looked up at him, disbelief etched into her features, her sentiments reflected back to her in Alastor's own face.

"I thought..." he mumbled, raising a hand and tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, "I thought I'd never see you again."

Y/n laughed tearfully.

"Me too."

"Where have you been? What happened? What... what took you so long?"

"If I had known I was coming to you, I would have died way sooner. I lived, Al. That's what happened. I only just got here today."

"I know, I heard, but what... what kept you?"

Y/n heard the tremor in his voice, the fear. She looked up at him, eyes narrowed.

"Are you jealous?"

Alastor's eyes flicked to the side momentarily. One of his ears twitched. It might have been nearly ninety years since they had last seen one another, they might've looked completely different and had whole lives the other wasn't in, but it felt like they had just seen one another yesterday.

"Oh, you so are!" Y/n teased brightly.

"Y/n."

"Yeah, yeah. It's just dumb is all, especially now I know you've been here all along."

"So tell me."

Y/n had always loved his insistence. It was what kept Alastor to his code, kept him to her, kept him him. She smiled once again.

"Soooo..." Charlie stepped in, her hands behind her back, "Either of you want to explain?"

Both Alastor and Y/n at last turned to look at her. He was smiling again, Charlie noticed. Not the normal ear to ear grin, teeth bared, she was used to. Something smaller, something softer. They released one another, only for Alastor to immediately drape an arm over Y/n's shoulders. It almost seemed like each feared the other would vanish into thin air if they weren't physically touching. She reached a hand up, gently holding his hand where it hung off her shoulder, keeping him to her.

"Charlie, this is my darling, lovely wife."

Y/n shoved him playfully and he smiled down at her.

"You're married!?"

"Yes." Y/n nodded, "We are. Have been for what, like one hundred years now?"

"So what kept you?" Alastor asked again and Y/n sighed.

"You really aren't going to let this go, are you?"

He shook his head. Y/n slipped out from under Alastor's arm, taking both his hands in hers. Her fingers traced his knuckles, the lines of his bones beneath the surface of his skin. Her eyes watched their hands, she sighed.

"After... well, Al, you died burying a body. It was hard for people not to know. I..."

"You got caught? You went to jail?" Alastor interrupted, his smile having fallen once again.

Y/n laughed slightly under her breath.

"No, heart. I stopped my own work but, the whole world knew of yours. I thought that... it was so dumb! I thought that... if I was alive, then so was the real version of you in some way. Not the true crime, vandalized version, but the person I knew."

Alastor lifted her face to his, his hand lingering under her chin.

"You were always secretly quite the romantic, weren't you."

"Oh hush you."

"Make me."

Y/n cheeks suddenly flushed bright red.

"Okay!" Charlie interrupted, laughing nervously, "Okay, well, I'm happy for... this, um, Alastor! Why don't you show Y/n around?"

"With pleasure."

Alastor leaned down, kissing Y/n gently. Her hand was half raised to burry itself in his hair when he pulled away, smirking in response to Y/n's irritated glare. Linking arms with her, he began leading Y/n to the staircase.

"I must say, I rather like this new look of yours." he hummed placidly.

"You're not half bad yourself deer boy, if a little cocky."

"I was always cocky. That's what you liked about me."

"Wrong. It's only one of the things I love about you."

----

Next Part -> Cover Up pt. 3

[magics-neptunes-things]

Bang, Bang.

Hi guys!

So this is from this request and it won't be an happy one. It might contain some medical things who aren't right, but I'm not a doctor even if I made some research to write something logical.

Please enjoy and thanks again dear anon for your perfect request ♥

Also no proofreading for now, sorry!

TW : Fight between lover, gun, shooting, bleeding, hospital, coma, sadness and a lot of angst.

Champion’s league finale. You are playing with your team against Barcelona and more specifically your girlfriend’s team. The Spanish are looking for another cup to continue to break all the records, but your team is very motivated to stop them. It would be the first Cup for your club and for you, too. It’s not ideal playing against your girlfriend honestly, but you knew when you start dating that it was a risk to take.

Alexia and you are together for more than two years now, your forever crush becoming reality at a point during the Euro and when Alexia did her ACL. It’s not easy being away from your girlfriend, even if you are playing in Manchester city with some of your national teammates and friends (Laia Aleixandri and Leila Ouahabi).

The game is tough, at the end of the ninety minutes, each team has scored two goals. At the 93 minutes, you manage to take the best on the defender who is marking you, using your full speed after having received a very good pass from Laia. You can hear the crowd screaming, City’s fans encouraging you while Barcelona’s fans are booing. But when you are facing the keeper, you shut everything and send a cannonball in the upper corner of the net. The keeper can’t do anything.

You don’t have time to register that you just scored 1 minute before the end of the adding time, your teammates tackling you on the ground. This is a mix of jersey, hair, hug and pat on the head for several seconds, before the referee ask you to go back to your position to start the game again.

She made you play two minutes more to catch up the time you lost while celebrating, but Barcelona don’t score. Then the whistle resonate in the stadium and you just won the UEFA Champions League. Not knowing how to react, you stay still for many seconds, before someone jump on your back to train you in a group hug.

You don’t stay a long time though, you want to check on Alexia. You easily find your girlfriend sitting on the ground, her jaw clenched. There is no one around her, so you chose to go to see her. You promised each other that you won’t be resentful to the other, whatever the ending of this game is.

So you think nothing more than being a recomfort to your girlfriend when you arrive next to her.

“Hi” you say softly.

You don’t know if Alexia realized your presence before you talk, but the eyes she lays on you aren’t really friendly. But you decide not to stress about it, kneeling next to her to put a comforting hand on her arm.

“You played very well. I’m so proud of you for the way you leaded your team. And this goal was something else.”

You smile, referring to the second goal, a real banger from Alexia. She doesn’t answer anything, so you just continue talking.

“You can be proud of yourself too, you know? You did everything you could and gave all you could. It’s –“

“Can you please shut the fuck up?”

Alexia doesn’t look at you when she cuts you, but you can tell how angry she is just with the tone of her voice. You are surprised enough to stay quiet and she continues.

“Don’t act like you have all the merits on this win. Your team is lucky that some girls are injured and that we don’t have our usual team playing tonight. If we had all the players, we would have crush you. Don’t take your win for what it’s not. You are just lucky, this has nothing to do with talent.”

Well, you didn’t expect that. Alexia has always been supportive of you, but more generally she always has been respectful and fair play to her opponents. You realize that there is Leila and Patri standing behind you when Alexia gets up to go somewhere else.

“Alexia.” Patri says in a tone of reproach.

But your girlfriend doesn’t answer anything, still walking to the Barcelona’s bench. You can only look at her leaving, stunned by her reaction. You take Leila’s hand who helps you to get up.

“Don’t listen to her” Patri says before hugging you. “You were amazing.”

“Thank you” you mumble.

Leila hugs you tightly too, not without looking at Alexia with reproach too. After that, the ceremony has a bitter taste for you, to be honest. It can’t be seen on picture, you are smiling between Alanna Kennedy and Laia, raising the cup or kissing it. Or being kissed on the head by Laia.

But in reality, you just want to talk to your girlfriend. She didn’t look at you when she passed between the two lines of your team when she goes to take her silver medals. And then she just went to the locker room, not even watching you raise the cup. It hurts, as much as her words did.

But you try to be understanding, you know how bad your girlfriend deal with the idea of losing anything, probably taking all the mistakes on herself. You manage to catch her, hair down and wet, before she leaves with her teammates to take the bus to go back to her hotel.

“Alexia!” you call her.

You don’t see her sigh and roll her eyes, which is good otherwise you probably will be hurt a little more. She was walking with Irene and Ona and turn around to look at you. You already talked with the two others after the game, so you smile back at them when they smile to you before leaving both of you.

“What do you want?” Alexia says harshly.

You are a little stunned, by the tone of her voice and the question. But you don’t say anything, trying to ignore the strange feeling in your stomach. Alexia never talked to you that way. You almost never fought since you are together.

“Talk to you? Can we at least have some minutes together?”

There is a moment of silence.

“No. I don’t want to talk or see you right now.”

********

The celebrations are strange after that. You make all the efforts you can to keep a smile on your face and not ruin your teammate’s joy. Alanna and Leila are looking at you with intensity and you’re pretty sure that Leila told to Alanna what happened between you and Alexia. But you manage to keep them away from you enough to be able to leave as soon as Kerstin.

You tried several times to call Ale when you go back to your hotel, but she doesn’t answer. You prefer to think that she’s asleep and not ignoring you. You send her a message after that, hopping to have an answer during the night or in the morning.

You didn’t.

The morning after, when you wake up, you realize that there is no message from Alexia. Your social media are full of notifications but nothing from your girlfriend. You haven’t post anything either, not wanting to upset your girlfriend even more.

You were supposed to stay in Paris, where the finale was played, together for two days before going back to Barcelona. But with Alexia not giving you any news, you are really scared that she chose to go back to Barcelona without you.

After reading the list of your friends in the Barcelona’s team, you chose to try to call Ona. You can’t help but smirk when you hear Lucy’s voice instead of the Spaniard. But your friend comes several seconds after, and you are finally able to ask if she has news from Alexia.

You are relieved to learn that she’s still in Paris, and even more when Ona accepts to make you sneak in the hotel. Your plan is to go buy some flowers and chocolate for your girlfriend; this is her guilty pleasure. You discovered that during the first weeks of dating her.

After some research, you chose the best chocolate shop around your hotel and go to it to buy some. You take some time to select them, being sure that Alexia will enjoy every single one of them. When you are happy with it, you pay the box but add a cute white teddy bear sitting next to the cashier. No one seems to recognize you, which you are glad for. Like this you can take all the time you want.

You decide to walk to go to the florist, situated between the chocolate shop and Alexia’s hotel. The weather is great, sunny but not too hot. It’s still hotter than Manchester though.

The florist is very nice, and you look around while she’s serving other people who were already here when you arrived, right now it’s a family with a small girl smiling at you. You love the smell in here. The roses are amazing, and you ask the florist something with red roses in it. You look at her ease to make a wonderful bouquet with amazement.

“Tout le monde les mains en l’air !“

You hear the shout before you see the man, but the sweet florist’s face is suddenly very white. You don’t understand what was told, so you turn around to look what is happening.

There is a man with his face hidden behind a mask who is pointing a gun in your direction. You are glad that the family with the cute toddler left.

“A genoux!”

You don’t understand and you have to look around to know what he’s asking. The other raised their arms and are now kneeling, while you are still standing without moving.

That seems to make the man very mad. When you turn your eyes to him once again, he says something that might be a swear word. Then there is a sound of gunfire and the pain you feel is worst than anything you felt in your life.

You hit your head hard on the ground and suddenly the people around are screaming, but you don’t understand why. They are talking in French, and you have trouble to understand anything. It seems to you that the man got the money he wanted before leaving. The rush in your ears is very unpleasant and when you look at your chest, you realize that there is a big, red spot on your white shirt.

Suddenly there is a woman kneeling next to you, grabbing your face to make you look at her. It’s the florist.

“Hey! We called the ambulance, they are coming, ok? Stay awake, please.”

“I need to call Alexia” you breath, while taking your phone from your pocket.

“OK. I’ll press something on your stomach to stop the bleeding, ok?”

You just nod. Your hands are shaking while you open your phone, and your vision is blur when you look for your girlfriend’s number. It’s not hard to find though, she’s on the top of your list. You let the phone ring for several longs minutes before accepting the fact that Alexia won’t answer.

“She’s maybe still asleep” the girl points.

“No” you whisper shakily. “She’s mad at me. Those were supposed to be gifts for her”

“I’m sure she’ll love it”

You start to have trouble to breath. You close your eyes and try to take a big breath. You start to feel anxious too. Are you going to die without having heard your girlfriend’s voice a last time? Without being able to tell her how much you love her, how much she means for you?

You suddenly feels very tired, you understand what it’s mean. Fighting to open your eyes, you look for the woman’s eyes before talking. It seems like you don’t speak very loud, because she leans on you to understand.

“Will you tell her that I love her? Please. She always meant the world to me and I’m sorry that she’s so upset. Will you tell her?”

The woman’s eyes are wet when she talks to you.

“You will tell her yourself, Sweetheart.”

You know you won’t be able to. So you need her to promise you.

“Please. There are no words strong enough, but I love her more than anything. Will you give her my presents too? I wrote a card with the bear”

Your words are hard to pronounce, but you manage to say every single one of them, being sure to be understand. The woman nods and you feel relieved.

“I’m sure she loves you too.”

The woman cup your face and you decide to believe her. You close your eyes again and let yourself being wrapped by the memories you have with Alexia. The best of your life.

********

Alexia is sitting in a chair, her head in her hands. Everything seems unreal. Her eyes are red from crying, her throat is dry, and her head is pounding painfully. And she wonders if her breathing will be normal again at a moment.

She feels awful.

She was the worst girlfriend in the world for you and you never deserved it. You took the time to find her to talk to her even if you were probably drunk with the adrenaline of the win. You said sweet words to her, took the time to comfort her and she still had this behavior.

To be fair to her, she was really trying to find a way to come back to you to apologize. She was showering when you tried to call her after being shot, not knowing that you already made a plan with Ona to come to her.

Then, she received the worst call of her life. She’s the number one on your emergency calls so the hospital you were transferred to call her as soon as they could. It was three days ago, and she never left this room since.

You had a surgery and when she arrived in your room at first, you weren’t even here. Then they bring you in it and she learned that you probably won’t make it. But it’s been three days, and you are still here, your brain seems to still work correctly, and your heart is still beating.

You lost a lot of blood though and several of your organs got touched by the bullet. You are healing and it’s only because you are an athlete and in a very good shape that you are still alive.

Just when she thought that nothing could get worse, she received a visit that she didn’t except. She frowns at first when a cute girl entered your room with a teddy bear, a chocolate box and flowers. But then the florist explained to her what you ask her to do and that the precise moment where Alexia lost it.

You parents and Alexia’s mother join you in the hospital to be there for you, but for Alexia too. Ale’s mother never managed to get Alexia out of your room. Alexia sleep on the chair, Alexia eats the awful hospital’s food, Alexia takes shower in the bathroom of your room.

Sometimes she cries, sometimes she just looks at you. No one never heard her voice since she’s here. She’s so hurt that she feels like she can’t speak anymore. She only speaks to you when you both are alone. She’s so hurt, too, that she wants to rip her heart of her chest.

Alexia lost track of time, her mother and your parents left several hours ago now, and the sky is dark. The bips from the monitoring are still in the background, but Alexia doesn’t pay attention to them anymore. Unless they are making strange sounds, like yesterday. Your heart was suddenly in great difficulty.

The nurses explain to her after having stabilized you that it’s because your body need a lot to heal, and it could be hard for your heart.

The Spaniard keeps thinking that her behavior probably had hurt your heart so much that she’s responsible of your state. She is wrong of course, even if she was bad after the game, it’s not in any case of her fault.

When Alexia raises her head again to look at you, you are still with your eyes closed, your skin paler than ever. You are Spanish too, you have a natural tan skin, but now you look… ill. Alexia hates it.

“Mi Amor” she whispers while taking your hand in hers, her throat hurts when she talks. “I know you are doing everything you can to heal and come back. You don’t know what your life means to a lot of people here. Your parents, your family, your friends, your fans… Me, of course. But I don’t know if you steel want me after everything that happened. You got hurt because of me.”

If she wasn’t a little shit, you wouldn’t have been in this flower shop. That’s what she shouts to her sister when Alba tried to make her leave your room. Tears are rolling again on her cheeks, and you would probably kiss them if you were awake.

“I am so sorry. I’ll give everything to be at your place. I’m not able to ask it, but please come back. I need you so much. I don’t know how I am supposed to continue without you. You weren’t at Barcelona, but it’s seems like you are everywhere every time. Everything makes me think about you. I need you. Please. I’m so sorry.”

Alexia lost her father several years ago and it was heartbreaking, of course. Her father was her model when she was younger. Her guide. But you, you are the love of her life and she is convinced that she won’t survive your lost.

“Take the time you need to heal and then I’ll do everything for you to forgive me.”

Tears are rolling freely on her face, but she doesn’t care anymore since a very long time. She rather kisses your hand, relieved to feel the warm of your skin on her lips. Alexia frowns slightly while looking at your fingers though. They had to remove the ring you were usually wearing on your finger; the one Alexia offered you for your one year together. Alexia wears it around her neck on her chain, her fingers being too big to wear it on her finger.

“I love you. I’ll stay with you every second until you wake up.”

She means it and she did it. Even when they were other games played, she never left your side. They talked about transferring you in England, where you live, but Alexia refused, and your parents agreed with her. They never doubt about the love Alexia had for you; you never hide from them how good Alexia treated you during your time together.

You weren’t really aware of that to be honest. You were somewhere over the rainbow, far away from your girlfriend and the one you love. Even if it isn’t the case for Alexia, it’s better for you. Seeing Alexia’s distress would probably break you. You sometimes feel lighter, but you like to think that it’s the time when Alexia takes your hand or kiss it.

********

“We would like to make her try to breath without monitoring. We need to see if she’s able to breath alone.”

“No.”

Alexia’s answer is harsh and cold, but her mother puts a hand on her shoulder to calm her. Your mother is more diplomatic about her answer.

“Isn’t it risky?”

“Everything is risky” the doctor says, trying to ignore Alexia’s glare. “But her organs are better, and we need to revise her treatment. We will stop the monitoring for an hour, and we will check her oxygen constantly during the process.”

“What if she stops breathing?” Alexia asks.

“The chances are very rare. In fact,…”

“What. If. She. Stops. Breathing.”

Your father smirks when your girlfriend talks again, carefully articulating each of her words with cold anger. He always loved Alexia and he probably loves her even more right now.

“We will put her back on monitoring and try something else.”

Alexia snorts and crosses her arms on her chest. She hates that idea; she hates the idea that they are putting you in danger without any reason. She doesn’t say that it’s bullshit just because her mother is here and she is always careful about the words she chooses when Eli is around.

“I won’t leave her side a single second” she rather informs your medical team.

She doesn’t when they try, her eyes being on the screen with the indicator of your oxygen in your body or on your chest, watching it raise every single time. When one hour is passed and you are still breathing normally, she feels a little better. The medical team decided to let you like this for now, wanting to see if you can make the night.

The night pass and you are still breathing. Then a whole day.

“I’m so proud of you” Alexia whispered against your forehead before kissing it softly.

She explained to her mother how she treated you the next time you saw her, the guilt was eating her alive. Her mother didn’t try to tell her that she’s wrong to feel that way, Eli agreed with Alexia about how bad she was. She nevertheless comforts her daughter with words she knew were true. She remembers to Alexia how much you love her and that you still went to grab her presents before wanting to come to her.

Three days without monitoring and you are still breathing like you are peacefully sleeping. They are still feeding you with your catheter but other than that you don’t need anything to be alive.

Everything was fine and that’s why she panicked when you start to whine suddenly. Hands shaking, she jumps from her chair looking around before pressing the button to call the nurses. She doesn’t know what she managed to say, but the nurses start to talk way to fast in French, one of them taking her phone to call the doctor.

“What is happening?” Alexia asks, her breath almost impossible to take.

“We need you to leave the room for a little time” one of the nurses asks her.

“No way!”

“Alexia…”

Eli’s voice makes her daughter looks around, but the blond doesn’t move. She just shakes her head, informing every single person in the room that she won’t leave you. Bad or good news, she will be here. She needs to be here.

The three women don’t have the time to convince Alexia a little longer, because the doctor suddenly comes into your room, talking in French too and Alexia wonders if she will explode from frustration soon.

She sees several monitors coming into your room too and when your mother-in-law comes to your girlfriend to pass her arms around her shoulder, Alexia looks at her with lost eyes.

“Is that it? Is she dying?” she whispers.

Eli feels her heart break, but she doesn’t answer. She doesn’t know. She just cups her daughter’s face and keep her face on her chest. Eli doesn’t move when Alexia grip her arms pretty hard, tightening her daughter even closer to her, trying to protect your girlfriend from another lost.

The next minutes were agonizing for your girlfriend, and she can’t open her mouth when the doctor comes next to her. She doesn’t understand all the bip from the different monitors around you. She doesn’t know if you are still alive or not.

“She is ok” he says at first, having learn to understand Alexia through the days, and your girlfriend feels like she might faint from relieving. “I think she is trying to wake up. The next hours will be decisive.”

After that, Alexia sits even closer to your face to have a better look at you. Every night her mother goes back to the house Alexia rent for her and your family so they can be close to you.

She hasn’t sleep since more than twenty-seven hours when you move again. But this time you open your eyes and look around. You seem scared, your eyes looking around you.

“Sh Bébé, can you hear me?” Alexia whispers after having regained some composure.

Her hand is on your face, soft like a feather. She manages to calm you quickly and you nod very softly. Alexia sees it anyway.

“You are at the hospital. You are safe, ok? Just try to breath a little slowly.”

You keep looking at her, trying your best to calm yourself. You don’t know how many minutes have passed before you swallow your saliva and open your mouth.

“No. Don’t talk. Keep your energy, ok?” Alexia whispers again.

As your memories come back, you are relieved to see that Alexia is by your side. She looks like she hasn’t sleep or eat in the last two weeks, but you don’t leave her face with your eyes, even when she moves to let the doctor and nurses check several things on you.

You tiredly let them do what they want with you and Alexia never left you with her eyes either. She watches the medical team to be sure they are doing things right with you. When they talk to you in English, you are way to tired to understand what they are saying. Luckily, your girlfriend is here to translate in Spanish.

“They want to know if you are hurt somewhere. Don’t shake your head, just close your eyes two times if you are hurt and one if you are ok.”

You blink slowly one time. You are not hurt, you are tired. Your answer seems to relieve everyone around and you close your eyes to rest when they are talking in English again. Alexia answers something and you trust her to make things right. They are talking for several minutes before the silence is here again.

You open your eyes suddenly, scared that Alexia has left too. But she’s here, typing on her phone, informing your parents and family that you are awake. She seems surprised to see you watching her when she puts her phone down.

“I thought you fall back asleep” she says softly, turning her body to look at you. “Do you want to drink?”

You blink once and she almost run to get you a glass of water from the bathroom. If you were able, you probably have laugh at her. You hope to have a little of water in your mouth can help you to talk. Alexia uses the buttons of the bed to make you seat and is very careful in every of her move to help you drink.

“They said a little bit at time”

You oblige and the feeling is amazing honestly. You look at your girlfriend and you focus on your sentence before talking, not wanting to waste any energy.

“Did you get my presents?”

Your voice is awful, but it’s not a surprise. You don’t really know since when you are here, without talking. But you need to know.

Alexia turns in your direction and suddenly her eyes are wet with tears and her hands are shaking.

“I did. That sweet girl came in here to give them to me the first day. The flowers are here” she points them. “Thank you, even if you shouldn’t needed to get me any of this. We will talk about it later, but Y/N/N I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve the way I treated you. You are the sweetest and most perfect girl in the world. And I love you more than anything.”

“Alexia…”

She puts her finger on your lips, putting you in silence.

“Keep your energy for when your parents are coming.”

You roll briefly your eyes and for the first time in weeks, Alexia smiles. Not her sometimes awkward smile, who makes you think about that Friend’s episode where Chandler is supposed to smile for his engagement’s pictures. You always teased her about it.

“I love you more than anything too” you whisper when she takes her finger back. “Stay with me?”

“Of course I will”

You don’t know that she never left your side since you are here. Just like her mother several hours ago, she cups your face with extra care before stroking your hair. Right to her words, Alexia never left you for a second and wait for you to be able to go back to Barcelona for your recovery.

********

Several Months Later.

“What would you think about me coming to play in England?”

In shock, you spit out the pudding you were innocently eating. Like every morning since your hospitalization, Alexia and you are talking over FaceTime while you are eating your breakfast. Like always, Alexia just came back from her morning jogging and is eating her breakfast too.

“What the hell are you talking about?” you ask, the choc passed.

“Me playing in Manchester? I really want to be close to you. I hate being so far away from you and being able to have you in my arms only for two weeks every two months.”

You probably are dreaming or hallucinating. You look at your girlfriend on your screen like if you were waiting for her to tell it’s only a joke. That’s what you are waiting, to be honest.

“Alexia, you will die in the English weather” you point. “And they are eating pudding and beans on a toast for breakfast here, I don’t know how you would survive.”

Your girlfriend rolls her eyes – just like she hates you do – and seems suddenly to find her tortilla very interesting.

“Don’t you want me there with you?” she asks with insecurity.

Since you got shot, you sometimes have the impression that she’s just waiting for you to break up with her. Something you will never do, how in the world are you supposed to live without your reason to breath?

“That’s not the point Cariño” you assure her with a smile. “I would love to be able to wake up every morning next to you.”

“What is it then?”

She’s almost pouting and you want to squeeze her cheeks with your hands.

“There is something I haven’t talked to you about.”

She looks panicked when she raises her eyes on your, turning your head back on you so quickly that you wonder if she hurts herself.

“What?”

“Don’t be mad, ok?” you begin, starting to eat your porridge again. “But I might have received an offer from Barcelona. I haven’t talk to you about yet because I wanted to be sure that it’s a real offer and that they are serious about it. City seems ok with me coming back to Barcelona, but nothing is signed for now.”

“Do you want it? Coming back?”

You look at your girlfriend thoughtfully. You understand where this question comes from, Alexia just wants to be sure that you are not doing things for her, but for you and your career.

“I miss Barcelona. I miss the Spanish weather, I miss my family… Sure I’ll miss Laia and Leila and the RFEF is still shit, but I want to give it a try.”

“Ok” Alexia smiles.

You can see that she’s thinking about something, but you don’t pressure her to talk. You know that it will comes when she will be ready. You finish your breakfast, talking about everything and nothing while Alexia looks at you from the corner of her eyes. The thoughts haunting her mind come out loud several minutes later.

“Are you going to go back to your parent’s?”

“Like living with them?” you raise an eyebrow before continuing when Alexia nods. “No, of course not. I’m 24 years old, I’m way to old to live with my parents again” you laugh softly. “Why?”

“I was thinking that there’s enough room in my closet for both of us. If you want it.”

“Are you asking me to move in with you?” you smile tenderly.

“Yes, if you want to?”

“I would love it, Ale.”

______________________________________________________________

To be honest with you I wanted to make R died but I can't stand a sad Alexia.

[megwritesriddles]

Sweetest Nectar ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Fem! Reader / You

Summary: Being at Hogwarts at university-level had it's perks, such as unsupervised days in the greenhouse with Neville. Reader finds herself in an unfortunate position thanks to a flower in the greenhouse and Neville has to figure out how to help while being a gentleman and preserving their friendship.

Tags: Sex pollen, Mildly dubious consent, Fingering, P in V, Unprotected sex, Begging, Friends to lovers, Minor yearning, HogwartsUniversity!AU, Post-war/Eighth year, Virgin!Neville (he just is, I don't make the rules), Too much backstory, Sentient Hogwarts, Silly fluffy ending.

Word count: 11.1k

Read it on ao3! | Masterlist

Authors note: Can you see why I've been gone so long??? This had zero business being 11k words but I'm a chronic overexplainer so here we are!! Skip the first 9 paragraphs if you don't care about any worldbuilding. Continuing my 'Neville gets muscular as he gets older' agenda as per. The last line is so dumb... Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

P.S. this is technically day 23 of my kinktober but it's january so lets not talk about that

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Hogwarts worked in mysterious ways, with its own indecipherable motives. This much had always been true but was especially recognised lately. Once rebuild efforts had concluded after the war, Professor McGonagall, like every headmaster before her, bar Severus Snape, had sent out invitations to recent graduates to join the Higher Education program, a two-year program that would prepare its students to become a professor in any chosen field, subject to meeting entry requirements of the course. Demand for this program was higher than it ever had been, so many recent Hogwarts graduates felt like they had missed so much time at Hogwarts, that they were willing to come back on the program just to make up for lost time. At first, McGonnagal thought of shutting the whole thing down or at least raising entry requirements for joiners; there wasn’t exactly enough room in the designated Higher Education quarters for all the applicants. And though the regular student population had dwindled significantly over the course of the war (best not thought about too hard), it seemed wrong to try and room adults with 15-year-olds just to fit everyone in. The night before she intended to send out the letters of amendment to the required marks, McGonagall felt bizarrely compelled to go on a stroll around the castle, feeling drawn down a route she didn't often find herself going. There, she found a brand new door, behind which were brand new living quarters, just big enough for all the applicants. Although she should have been relieved, McGonagall was initially rather frustrated by this. Why now did the blasted old castle decide it could build, when nearly all summer long volunteers had been slaving away to restore the castle? The windows glittered as if to wink at her, she decided that the daft old thing must have liked the attention. McGonagall found herself relieved, she too felt that the recent graduates were not ready for the career world quite yet, having had not only their final year of study lost to the war, but the years before that tarnished by looming threats and incompetent bumblers. Also, there was an urgent need for qualified teachers of magic, so the more the merrier, even if most of them would only use it as a springboard into something else. 

You had always been a shoo-in either way, although you never got to sit your NEWTs, the honourary grades you were given were stellar, supported by fantastic results in your OWLs and overall fantastic conduct in class. The blemishes on your record from the Carrow's note-taking were wiped, leaving your record squeaky clean. You received your acceptance letter and list of supplies and felt like you were eleven again. Everyone was required to specialise in a subject, and while you'd had a couple in which you had adequate grades which you might have chosen, you went for Herbology in the end, as it was something you loved.  In all honesty, you liked Professor Sprout the best and were eager to train under her. 

As soon as you received your letter, you wrote to Neville. There was no doubt in your mind that he would be studying under Professor Sprout alongside you, despite not even knowing if he had applied to the program initially. He quickly confirmed this suspicion when he wrote back to you, saying he had a sneaky feeling about you as well. The two of you had become fast friends in the sixth year, both being in Advanced Herbology. You'd known each other a little here and there before that, but in this class, your friendship truly formed. The class was very small, as the interest in Advanced Herbology was low, most careers only required a decent grade in standard Herbology, so even those with interest had to prioritise other things for the sake of their future, such as Potions or Charms. There were only the two of you and a pair of Slytherin girls who, despite seeming genuinely very passionate about the subject, refused to converse with the two of you and whispered amongst themselves all the time. This was fine with both of you, as you had each other, taking time to study together, walking to and from class, and working efficiently during any pair work. The two of you had been ripped apart during the war, you had to steer clear of Hogwarts for your safety, and Neville, being intensely monitored by the Carrows at the time, refused to write to you and risk revealing your location to them, so you had been out of contact for quite a while. You wrote to him again on his birthday and had been corresponding a little since, but things felt slightly stunted. You hadn't seen each other in so long and Neville was never the best when it came to socialising. 

Arriving at Hogwarts once again had been intensely bittersweet. So many good and bad memories to try and process all at once, it felt overwhelming. You'd had to step outside during the sorting but found yourself far from alone out there. So many people were broken. You apprehensively made your way over to Hermione and said hello. She pulled you into a tight hug, as you hadn't seen her for a long time either. You listened as she explained about Harry and Ron, that they didn't want to go into teaching, and though she'd explained over and over that most people that do the program don't end up teaching, they'd still refused to come. Trying to make the most of it, she tells you it'll be nice to spend time with other friends for once and you nod along. She is somehow specialising in three subjects, she'd wanted to do more of course, but it hadn't been allowed. Trust Hermione to work herself to the bone happily. You'd made it to your room later that night, a private room with an en-suite, which felt awfully fancy for Hogwarts, and settled in. Being back was an odd feeling, you could see the cracks in the stone everywhere you looked, there was pain everywhere, yet so much good to try and find.

To your complete relief, when you started your first day in the Greenhouses, things fell back into place with Neville instantly. At first, you'd greeted him with a hug, which had been awkward as he hadn't been expecting it, but very pleasant once he figured out what was going on. Soon after this though, as Professor Sprout set you her first task (to prepare some plants for her third years), things were back to as they were, perfect. You worked together well, talking and laughing easily, and though occasionally the chat went sour and the mood fell, this was happening with everyone lately, a byproduct of the war, there was so little to talk about that wasn't tarnished that it was a wonder the two of you were able to laugh as much as you were. Neither of the two girls from advanced Herbology were there, and although this initially saddened you both, you conceded that there could be many reasons for it. There weren’t many Slytherin returners, there never had been, but after the war especially, the turnout was pathetic. Most Slytherins avoided their peers after the war for fear of ostracism, which was fair as people had some pretty bad opinions on them but sad because there were several Slytherins who hadn’t been on the wrong side of history who were still facing hostility. 

The course was a lot of independent study of assigned texts and essay-writing, but all day on a Tuesday and half a day on a Thursday, the two of you were in the smaller greenhouse behind the ones for teaching, working on various projects, which also sometimes required your attention out of teaching hours. This greenhouse was set aside initially for research purposes at Sprout’s predecessor's request, but now was being used to train those in the higher education program. Despite this greenhouse being smaller than the two nearer the grounds, it was still fairly large and complex. Upon entering, you came into a little cloakroom, where you would have to don your aprons and gloves before entering, with a sink in the corner for washing up when leaving and entering. The next room was the main growing area, growing various plants that weren’t dangerous but were still perhaps best kept out of the reach of the younger students. There was a long wooden workbench in the middle of the room for potting and taking notes and whatever else you might need to do. Off of the opposite end of this room, there were three doors, one that led to a small room which was always kept humid and at tropical temperatures, one which was always kept cool and dry and one lockable room in which more dangerous plants were kept, such as venomous tentacula or fanged geraniums, only to be accessed with Professor Sprout supervising. 

Professor Sprout would only tutor the two of you on Thursday, so with the exception of the first few weeks, the two of you were entirely alone from 9 am to 4 pm on a Tuesday. Although it sounded a little salacious when you told friends, the truth was that most Tuesdays you were both too busy for anything to happen. Not that anything would of course, but certain assumptions were made when people heard you were alone together for hours with what they assumed was an easy subject. Mostly your days were full of tending to the plants, having to frequently refer to your notes for how each should be cared for (how much water? what temperature should the water be? do they require singing to?), observing any plants that were the subjects of your essays and preparing plants so they would be safe for lessons with younger year groups. 

It’s a Tuesday like any other. Neville is carefully planting some seeds across the workbench from where you’re delicately pruning a particularly active flitterbloom bush, setting the clippings aside to send to the potions department later. One of Neville’s research subjects is observing what methods of growth acceleration work the best and cause the least damage to the plants they’re applied to. He has been planting, growing and replanting dittany over and over for weeks now, but was still gathering more data as he came across more and more methods to test, and each had to be tested several times over to rule out external factors. 

Your research was on the merits and drawbacks of pruning, and which plants took best and worst to the practice. Pruning was useful as it allowed more ingredients to be obtained from individual plants for potioneering purposes, but generally was thought to be harmful to the overall health of the plant. You were attempting to write a definitive list of which of the 25 most common plants used in potions could be pruned and which couldn’t, which to your surprise had hardly been researched before as the belief of its harmfulness had permeated the field since 1870 and most Herbologists had steered clear of it since. Your research seemed to be proving it wasn’t nearly as harmful as thought.

The two of you chat idly as Neville uses a pipette to apply various growth potions to the soil of his newly planted seeds and you carefully measure the regrowth of a stem of the flitterbloom bush that you pruned a few weeks ago, struggling as the stem swayed about. 

“I can’t believe Hermione talked Ron and Harry into actually joining the course next term,” Neville hums, extracting exactly 5 millilitres of potion from a bottle with his pipette. You scoff. 

“For real this time? They keep saying that yet nothing ever comes of it,” you shake your head, scribbling down your measurement on the parchment beside you.

“Yes, really, two new rooms have appeared in the boys' dorms with their names on them, if Hogwarts knows, it must really be happening,” his tongue sticks out slightly between his teeth as he concentrates on dropping the liquid right in the middle of the little pot. Not wanting to throw his research, you wait until he’s done to reply.

“Perhaps Harry and Ron don’t even know it themselves,” you joke, making Neville chuckle. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if the castle decided it for them,” he carefully pushes the cork back into the top of the potion bottle. “The castle is quite odd lately, perhaps it has whatever its equivalent of brain damage is from the war, it’s acting much more blatantly,”

“How so?” you tilt your head in his direction, soothing your finger over the agitated stem that you just had to hold taut for measuring. 

“I’m sure you’ve heard all the stories of people getting stuck in rooms with the people they like, doors literally disappearing until they confess or otherwise!”  Neville laughs, carefully moving his pots back to their designated spot on the windowsill. With his back turned, you can’t help but glance at the door despite yourself, wondering if it’s still there. It is. You quickly avert your eyes from the door as he turns back toward you. “It’s why there’s suddenly all these couples popping up, sure the castle has always been a little cheeky, but never so obvious before, it all started with the higher education wing appearing overnight and it’s seemingly been madness since,” he shakes his head, picking up another batch of pots containing little sprouts at various heights that he has to measure. 

“It’s sweet how many people have liked each other and not even known… has it always been people who like each other stuck together?” you ask, stroking your quill, feeling the soft tufts beneath your fingers. 

“As far as I’ve heard, each time it’s happened it’s ended well,” Neville shrugs, rifling through his bag for his measuring tape. You glance at the door again, seeing it still there. Unrequited, you figure, that door will stay right where it is. 

“I wonder where the brain of the castle is if it even has such a thing… it is sentient in some ways, so there must be an equivalent right?” you ponder as he loudly removes his books from his bag and thuds them onto the workbench. 

“The room of requirement? For some reason that comes to mind… a fire in your brain can’t be good,” he chuckles, his voice slightly strained as he peers under the table for the offending measuring tape.

“You can borrow mine,” you suggest softly as he comes up with nothing. 

“No it’s fine, you need it,” he waves his hand dismissively, standing up from his stool. “I’ll fetch mine from my room, I’m fairly certain I know exactly where it is on my desk, can’t believe I forgot it again,” he grumbles the last part to himself. “Be back in 15, watch my plants,” he smiles, although you can tell from his sheepish look that he’s embarrassed to have forgotten something yet again. Luckily, you could head back to fetch things at any time at your level, no longer having to ask to go to the toilet or anything like that. There was no one here to ask. You smile back, watching as he enters the cloakroom. A few moments later, you see his heavily blurred figure heading up the hill through the heavily rippled glass of the greenhouse windows. In the newfound quiet, you return to your work, hearing only the spray of simulated rain in the tropical growing room. 

Finally finished with the flitterbloom, you stand to retrieve your next plant, a valerian bush, for pruning. As you move to stand and step forward, you feel an odd pressure at your ankle. Stepping forward anyway, you realise too late that your foot is hooked on a support between the legs of your stool, sending both you and the stool off balance and toppling over toward the room-length counter that holds all the various plants. Reflexively, your body twists and your arms come up to shield your head as you thud loudly into the solid wood surface, causing a choir of wobbling pots, luckily with no ensuing crash of broken terracotta, you had to count your blessings somewhere. A dull pain throbs through your body, starting from the side that crashed against the counter. Thud! A yelp rips from you as the stool, still twined with your leg, falls onto your thigh. Luckily, it is only light and will leave a small bruise at most, your side colliding with the counter on the other hand…. You shut your eyes tight, feeling utterly embarrassed about what just happened despite being alone. You weren’t normally this clumsy and you were sure you looked a mess, an undignified heap on the floor, too shocked to stand up or even open your eyes yet. In the permeating silence, you sit on the cold stone floor and try not to cry, from the shock more than the pain. 

A violent sneeze overtakes your body, the action of it hurting your side. You sniff and cough, dust seemingly surrounding you. You must have jostled some old dusty plants that hadn’t been touched in a while when you collided with the surface. Surrendering to the coughs and sniffs that wracked through your pained body, you wait it out until the dust subsides, grabbing your bruised side as you double over with violent sneezes and sputters. Finally, a deep breath of clean air, you sag against the counter and try to gather yourself now you can breathe properly once more.

“It was exactly where I thought it was…” The door from the cloakroom creaks open in the silence as Neville enters, clutching his measuring tape. “I can be so scatterbrained,” he huffs, his eyes sweeping the room at the height he expects you to be. In embarrassment your eyes squeeze tighter, not wanting him to see the mess you’d gotten yourself into. Upon not seeing you, he glances around for any evidence you might be in one of the back rooms, though not thinking of a reason you would be. 

“Down here,” you squeak, your voice hoarse from coughing. The words itch your throat and you splutter slightly once more as he rounds the workbench and spots you on the ground. You give a sheepish smile, finally having opened your eyes. It’s painfully obvious from your stool-adorned leg what happened, you just hope he doesn’t think any less of you. He shouldn’t, he has a reputation for being clumsy himself, but you can’t help but worry. “I fell,” you rasp pathetically. 

“Are you alright?” he surges toward you and kneels, immediately examining your head for any bumps, rubbing over your scalp gently. The action makes your cheeks heat up, but you try to ignore it. 

“I’m okay, I landed on my side,” you reply as he carefully removes the stool from around your leg and stands it back up beside the workbench. His arms wrap around you and he carefully lifts you to stand, you yelp as the movement stretches your side and he shushes you gently. 

“It’s alright, there we go… just—,” he holds you steady until you’re stable on your feet. When he lets go of you, it feels oddly painful deep in your stomach, but you brush that off. 

“Thank you,” you whisper shyly. 

“Do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?” he asks, bringing his hand up to feel your skull once more, worrying over whether you might have been badly injured. You lean slightly into his hand without meaning to.

“No I promise, it was just my side and my thigh,” you insist, inwardly wishing he’d brush his hand against those spots to check them. For a moment his hand moves like he might, but he stops himself. 

“If you’re sure,” he inspects you once more, hovering behind you as you sit back down on the stool, trying to brush past this whole incident. “Can I grab your plant for you?” he offers. “Which were you going for?” you want to complain, but his eyes are wide and earnest and you know he wants to help.

“The valerian… and could you pop the flitterbloom back for me?” you request, hesitantly testing the tender skin where the stool collided with your thigh, wincing at the throb of pain that followed your touch. Neville dutifully returns the flitterbloom to the counter, then places the valerian bush before you. Behind you, you hear him gently pushing some of the pots that had moved when you smashed into the counter back into place. You flush and keep your head down, pretending to inspect the valerian bush but not being able to focus. Your brain feels a little fogged up, you assume from the shock of the fall. Not wanting to alarm Neville in any way, you grab your tape measure and pretend to measure the leaf regrowth. He quietly moves around the workbench, bringing his pots over to your side of the bench and sitting down beside you to resume his work, his brows furrowed in concern for you. “Really, I’m okay,” you chuckle, but the weakness of your voice does little to reassure him.

“It’s better if I sit here, just in case something happens,” he says, more firmly than he usually says anything. That side of him was new since the war, this ability to stick up for himself in smaller situations. He’d always known how to stick up for the greater good, but little things like this, he would allow himself to be walked all over, too scared of losing a friend. Now that he has more confidence, he’s not so afraid to dispute his nearest and dearest, knowing you’re unlikely to end your friendship with him over this. And if you did, it would be weird and not his fault anyway. The tone of voice is also on the newer side and it stirs something in your belly.

You sit side by side working on your respective projects. Well, Neville is working, you’re more just going through the motions while your mind hovers elsewhere, not allowing you to focus on what you’re meant to be doing. Maybe you were concussed… but you hadn’t hit your head during the fall, so what was wrong? You take a few deep breaths, trying to slow your heart which still seems to be beating slightly fast. Slowly but surely, your body starts to feel a little warm. You glance to make sure the door to the tropical room hasn't opened as your cardigan starts to feel a little stuffy. No matter where you look in the room, you can’t find any source of excess heat. A puff of breath breaches your lips, you’re growing uncomfortable now, the heat only seems to rise and rise. With great unnecessary difficulty, you wrestle yourself free of your cardigan, throwing the wretched thing on the ground beside you with a grunt. Neville gives you a confused look, but not yet seeing anything obviously wrong with you, returns to his measurements. There is relief from the warmth that was engulfing you, but only for ten minutes at most, as soon you are sweltering once more. An awful voice at the back of your head tries to convince you to throw off all of your clothes, but you keep it together, merely squirming in your seat, rubbing your thighs together to try and quell the growing ache in your belly that your mind isn’t quite registering yet. In a last-ditch effort, you sip some water from your lukewarm water bottle, the relief it provides is even shorter than before. Your head whips around now, searching fruitlessly once more for the source of this despicable heat, but finds nothing. Neville is unfazed beside you, still wearing his sweater and looking perfectly comfortable. The only thing you can think of is that Neville must be radiating the heat, as nothing else could explain your sudden discomfort. You reach your hand out toward him, trying to gauge if it gets warmer the closer it gets to his side. This finally catches his attention and when he looks up, he’s met with your flushed clammy face and dilated pupils.

“Whoa! Is everything alright?” he sputtered, leaning back slightly as if worried you’re contagious. This upsets you and you let out an unseemly whine.

“I’m hot,” you huff, pushing your hair back from your face to get more cool air on your skin. “Really hot,” Neville’s eyes brush over you for a moment as he considers just how hot you are, before promptly snapping himself out of it.

“You do look a little… feverish,” he agrees, reaching out and touching the back of his hand to your forehead. You lean forward into the touch, moaning softly. Your skin is burning and slightly tacky with sweat, which makes Neville frown deeply. How could you have suddenly developed such a terrible fever? He pulls his hand back, but you immediately whine and claw at his arm to pull his hand back. Too baffled to protest, he lets you pull his hand to your cheek and watches you lean against it happily. He gently runs his thumb over your cheekbone before catching himself. “Are you alright?” he enquires once more, keeping his voice soothing.

“Don’t stop touching me,” you pout, looking up at him through your lashes with a look that is wholly inappropriate for an academic premises. He swallows.

“Wha-what?” he stammers, watching as you nuzzle against his hand.

“It helps the heat… don’t stop,” you whimper, reaching out to try and pull him closer by his sweater, but not being strong or focused enough to do it. This failure pulls another whine from you. Neville’s mind reels completely and he has to look away from you to compose himself, though he keeps your cheek cradled in his palm. What was going on with you? Were you ill? His eyes find the spot where he’d found you on the floor just earlier in his attempts to avoid the sultry unexplainable look you were giving him. “I need you to touch me,” you mewl, making him shiver.

“I’m not sure that’s–” he cuts himself off when his eyes land on the plant on the counter above where you fell. Lamprocapnos libidinosus, also known as the dripping heart, a magical relative of the bleeding heart flower in the muggle world. A common ingredient in lust potions and aphrodisiacs, highly dangerous in the wrong hands due to the potent amorous effects of its spores. Neville vaguely remembers Professor Sprout's warnings that one of the PhD students was being allowed to grow it for research and to steer completely clear of it. A warning he’s sure you would have headed if you hadn’t been tumbling toward it. Even from afar, he notices a couple of burst spore pods. “Oh no…” he mumbles to himself, dropping his hand from your cheek. You immediately protest but he stops you short. “When you fell… you didn’t happen to breathe in any dust, did you?” his voice shakes slightly, this cannot be happening to you. He always thought they shouldn’t have the plant growing in this greenhouse, even if only experienced herbologists were allowed in. Accidents happened as he knew all too well, and now his vague fears had become a biting reality.

“Yeah, why?” your voice is soft and sweet as you paw at him, trying to get him to hug you, or presumably something more. Neville flushes brightly and shoots upright, making a mad dash for his textbooks, still on the workbench from when he’d been searching through his bag. You wail at his absence, feeling the heat that had reduced to a low simmer return to a full boil. “Please…” you sob at him, not even knowing why you want what you want. “Just hold me, comfort me,” The look in your eye has him breaking, and if he remembers what little he’s read about the plant, you must be rather uncomfortable right now. He returns to your side and allows you to cling to his arm, bumping your head into his shoulder like a loving cat, while he frantically searches for the information he needs to help you. After several panicked flick-throughs, he locates the page.

Lamprocapnos libidinosus; also known as the Dripping Heart or the Flower of Lust.

At the top of the page is information entirely useless to this cause, the best season to plant, how much light is needed, etcetera, but finally Neville finds what he’s looking for under the ‘uses’ section. It’s tough to focus on reading when you’re practically trying to get under his sweater with him, pushing the knit material slightly up his side, your fingertips brushing his abdomen and making him jolt. He pushes your hand away but pulls you into a hug to silence your outcries, which you’re more than happy to sink into. He’s hugged you plenty of times so he pretends this is perfectly normal as he wills his brain to digest what's in front of him on the page. It’s hard to keep this pretending up as he can hear you sniffing him and moaning deeply at the smell of his shower gel, mixed with just a hint of sweat, which in this state only fuels your arousal, acting as a pheromone, worsening your need.

He skims the section frantically. Inhalation of the spores will lead to overwhelming feelings of lust even in small doses, however, the dose may affect who this lust is directed toward. Smaller doses will only worsen lust toward people already lusted after by the infected person, while larger doses will cause these feelings of lust to latch onto whoever is around, no matter prior relationships. The infected person will pursue their object of affection at any cost, they will be unable to focus on anything but the lust that has overtaken them. These feelings of lust, if left untreated, can cause extreme discomfort in the infected person, high fevers, intense symptoms of arousal (such as fluid secretions), shivers, brain fog and other symptoms varying by person and dose. The only way to cure the infected person of these symptoms and return them to full faculties is to have them reach climax.

It seems that you have chosen him as the object of your affections. Neville looks down at you as you hug him tight, continuously trying to slip your hand beneath his jumper. Out of selfish curiosity, he heads for the plant to try and determine how large of a dose you got and whether you may have already experienced feelings of lust toward him before the effects of the plant. When he moves away, you practically sob.

“Please don’t!” you wail, diving for him and into his arms once more. For now, you seemed to be mostly content just being held in his arms, and it’s clear you find it painful when separated from him for even a moment, so Neville has to relent. He delicately lifts you, and although having you wrap your legs around his hips hadn’t been a part of his plan, he supposes it does help keep you steady. He blushes brightly as he walks over to inspect the flower. He’s never held anyone like this, so intimately. Your skirt rides up where your legs wrap around him and he has to tear his eyes away before his thoughts become too inappropriate. You like the sight as much as he does. “You’re so strong,” you purr in his ear, your voice much lower than normal. He shivers and you feel it, the knowledge you’re having some effect on him overtakes your lust-addled brain. 

“Th-thank you, I’ve been exercising a lot since the war,” he mumbles, counting all the burst pods on the plant. He counts five, but he’s not sure if that’s considered a large dose or not. Probably, but the pods do look rather small.

“Mmm, it’s so hot…” you purr, trying to wriggle against him. Neville’s face turns red and he practically drops you, but holds you steady so you don’t fall once more once your feet touch the ground.

“Don’t say stuff like that!” he yelps.

“It’s true,” you pout. “I need you,” you try to hop up into his arms again but he holds you firmly on the ground, practically shaking. Really, this should’ve been a dream come true for him, he’d had feelings for you practically since the day the two of you met, but he felt disgusted with himself for every wave of excitement that passed over him. You were burning up, your cheeks brightly flushed, a deep ache at the pit of your belly and an ever-growing wetness in your underwear. All you could think about was how it might feel to have Neville soothing the fire inside you with deep strong thrusts, you moan aloud, if you focus enough you can almost feel it. “I bet you’re big, I bet you’d fill me up so well,” you murmur, looking up at him seductively.

“I- Merlin…” Now Neville feels overheated, he tries to push you away a little but you aren’t letting him. The image of filling you up won’t leave his head no matter how much he commands it to. It doesn’t help that you’re now trying your best to reach his jaw to kiss it. 

“Please…” you beg once more. “I need it so badly…” his resistance crumbles for a moment and his hands drop from your sides, allowing you to rush forward and attach your lips to his jaw. His eyes slip shut and he whimpers as you hold him close and lavish his neck and jaw with attention. His arms wrap around you, hands gently skimming your back as you continue to pepper him with kisses. “Please,” you whisper against his skin, your hand dropping to the buckle of his belt. The feeling of you tugging at his belt makes his eyes shoot open. He realises in a sudden flood of shame what he’s allowed you to do. You’ll hate him for this once you’re back to normal. He grabs your shoulders harshly and pushes you away. You squeak as he sits you on one of the stools, your eyes filling with tears at the rejection. You’d been so close to what you needed, and now with this newfound distance from him, you were in pain once more, a horrible throb in your stomach. 

“Listen to me,” he breathes shakily. “We can’t do this, you’ll regret it as soon as it’s over,”

“No, I–”

“You’re not in your right mind, you don’t know what you actually want,” he asserts again, reminding himself more than anything. He takes a deep breath and thinks. The only way to cure you according to the textbook was for you to reach climax. In colloquial stories about the plant, he’d always heard that orgasm would have to be reached with the help of another person, but the book didn’t stipulate this, maybe this was the answer. You could do it alone. His cheeks were flushed bright red as he opened his mouth once more. “What you need to do is… er… I’m going to take you into the cloakroom, alright?” he swallows, cautiously pulling you up from the stool onto your feet. You would need to sit somewhere to do this presumably and sitting on the stool or the workbench in here could lead to falling and disaster all over again. The best place he could think of was the bench in the cloakroom where people could sit to remove their shoes. You would have the wall to lean against and wouldn’t be sitting on the cold stone floor. Beneath you, he lays out a towel and then helps you to sit down on top of it. The towel was intended to make you more comfortable, but he considers with a blush that it might be necessary for other reasons also. He clears his throat. “Now, you have to… er… get yourself… uhm…” he can’t seem to make himself say the words. With a soft tug at his sleeve, you pull him to kneel between your legs, your faces nearly level given how much height he has on you. 

Before he can stop you, you kiss him. His brain stops functioning for a moment, all he can do is wrap his arms around you and kiss back, so intoxicated by the way your lips move against his. He didn’t have much experience with kissing, but there was no doubt this was the best kiss of his life. You moan against his mouth and it sets all his nerve-endings alight, making him push even closer to you in desperation. For you, the kiss is a sweet relief, cool water washing over your overheated body, but even so, you need more. There’s an incessant throbbing between your legs, a horrible feeling of emptiness that you know only Neville could fill. Trying to urge him on, you brush your tongue against his lips, hoping for entry. You’re allowed in for one tantalising moment before he pulls away with a start when your tongues graze against each other. The whine that rips from your throat is downright pathetic, but you don’t have the faculties to care at that moment. You look at him through your lashes, watching as he fights to regain his composure, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Never in his life has he felt as weak as in this moment, rendered so malleable by his desire for you. The two of you are friends. How will you react when you come back to normal and discover he let you kiss him in this state? That he’s allowed his selfishness to get in the way of what’s right? He jumps to his feet, ignoring your cries and protests as much as it pains him to do so.

“Look, the textbook says that the only way to cure you of this is… a uh… a climax,” he blushes and chokes on the words slightly. “I’m going to keep watch outside that nobody comes in, all you have to do is… you know…”

“Get myself off?” you supply in a sultry voice. 

“Yes, exactly,” he clears his throat, turning to leave you alone.

“Nev, please… I need your help… I don’t want to do it alone,” you plead, your voice soft and needy.  

“No, you can do it alo– oh… wow,” he exhales heavily as his eyes reach you once more. In an effort to persuade him, you’d pulled up the hem of your skirt and spread your legs, revealing your thighs and your soaked panties to him. The cold air makes you shiver but doesn’t actually cool you down in the slightest. It takes a great deal of strength to keep Neville from lunging himself at you. You look positively delicious, the wetness of your panties allowing him an outline of your most intimate areas, the skin of your thighs soft and plump and enticing. If he was even a slightly feebler man, he’d already be on his knees, devouring you through the thin, damp fabric. Just imagining how you might taste has him weak in the knees. “Oh Merlin…” he breathes, feeling his erection, which has been slightly present for the last half-hour or so, straining painfully against the zip of his jeans. The needy seductive look on your face almost breaks him, he takes a step toward you, causing you to light up, before he stops himself and just stares. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, unable to help himself. He watches you squirm in response. 

“Please, I need you,” you beg, unbuttoning your shirt as he observes. The garment falls to the ground, leaving you in your plain bra. Neville doesn’t seem to mind how simple the garment is in the slightest, his breath hitching as you reveal yourself.

“I really shouldn’t” he tries again, but he cannot rip his eyes from your body.

“I can’t do it alone, I feel so empty,” you whimper, spreading your legs further. “Please, fill me, I need your cock,” Neville nearly faints at those words, at the pleading way you say them, at how desired you’re making him feel. His legs carry him forward before his brain can catch up and he sits beside you on the bench. His brain finally does catch up just in time to stop you from sitting in his lap.

“Maybe I can help a little, but we can’t… I can’t uh… I can’t ‘fill’ you,” he gives in, despite knowing he probably shouldn’t. He had heard many times that another person was needed to reverse the effects of the Dripping Heart, so it was likely he did have to help, given the fact you hardly seemed satisfied with the idea of getting off alone. He could still be as much of a gentleman about it as possible. He knew the both of you had limited sexual experience, he himself was a virgin and though he wasn’t sure about you, he would guess you were in the same boat or had only had one partner before. With both of you having so little experience, he didn’t want to go all the way, as for you it would likely be regrettable. You plead with him softly, trying to climb into his lap still, despite his strong arms holding you at bay. Each plea weakens his resolve and he knows you know it because you’re babbling now.

“Please, please Nev, I need you inside me, to fuck me, I’ve never needed anything so badly, please, I know you want me too,” he deserved a medal for being able to resist you for this long, most other boys would have given in the second the girl of their dreams said something even remotely flirty, but he was somehow just barely resisting your pleas to have sex with him.

“Sit down,” he implores you, and you quickly obey, batting your lashes at him. “I’m going to help you, okay? But you need to stay still and just… take what I give you, don’t ask for more, okay?” These words seem to excite you, you squirm and nod, eagerly allowing him to spread your legs. His shaking hand rests on your bare thigh for a moment as he takes a few composing breaths. He couldn’t believe what he was about to do, it was something he had dreamed of incessantly, but now it felt like it could ruin his life if he wasn’t careful. You tug softly at his arm, trying to get his hand where you want it, bucking against the air.

“Please…” you sob, clenching around nothing as you look at his large hand against your thigh. He shushes you gently.

“I’m about to, just give me a second,” he stammers, trying to sort through his brain for any information he has on how to do this. He averts his eyes, figuring you wouldn’t have wanted him to see you so intimately, even if the damp fabric of your panties had already given him a pretty good look. Slowly, he places his hand on the apex of your thigh, shivering at the damp warmth he can feel radiating from your core. You mewl. Despite the pain in his neck from the position, he keeps his eyes locked on the wall behind you, pointedly ignoring how arousing the sounds you made were. Gathering his courage, he carefully slips the tips of his fingers past the fabric of your underwear and groans aloud at how wet you are. Your nectar gathers on his fingers and for a moment he just gently swipes them up and down to gather as much as possible, hearing your desperate moans as you lean your head on his shoulder. He never knew a woman could be this wet, and sure perhaps the flower was exacerbating it, but the thought still had him unendingly aroused. The angle wasn’t quite right, so he removed his hand, whining in unison with you at the separation. Your essence dripping down his fingers was like a siren song, trying to lure him to lick his fingers clean and finally get a taste of you. How could he ever explain that to you later? To his infinite regret, he doesn’t bring them to his mouth, sliding his hand into your panties once more, now from the top. This angle works a lot better, your hips immediately buck as his fingers slide over your clit.

“There, please, right there,” you beg, and he’s glad for the advice. A little unsure but determined (no point backing out now, at least he might be able to cure you), he relocates the spot that makes you shiver and whine. Your reaction tells you exactly when he’s found the little bundle of nerves once more and he takes a deep breath, before gently beginning to circle his fingers around it. It’s something he remembers hearing in the common room, and it seems it was good advice as soon you’re panting in his ear like a dog in heat, mewling his name softly. He can’t believe the noises you’re making, the sinful way you’re saying his name, it’s like perfect torture, it takes a lot out of him not to look. “Yes, fuck… Nev…” you whine, feeling the syrupy pleasure coursing through your body. “Yes, yes! More!” 

“More?” he croaks, unsure what you mean by that. As a guess, he tries circling faster, and though you definitely seem to like it, your hips canting up into his touch, he can feel you shaking your head against his shoulder.

“Need you inside,” you cry, making his cock twitch in his jeans.

“We- we can’t do- that,” he stutters, although he’s never wanted to more in his life. He wholeheartedly agrees with your pained sob in response, but he knows it’s for the best. “How about… er… my fingers? Inside?” he gulps, flustered that he’s even in a situation where he can ask such a thing. 

“O-okay,” you whimper. Neville fumbles around for a moment, trying to figure out where to put his fingers. It would be much easier if he could see what he was doing, but he’s already decided he shouldn’t. The fact that he touched you will no doubt be mortifying enough once you’re back to normal. With a little guidance from you, he very slowly and cautiously presses two fingers into you, making you gasp in pleasure. You’re wet and warm and tight around his fingers and he practically drools imagining how you might feel around his cock, almost cumming on the spot just thinking about it. Merlin, he was such a pathetic virgin, maybe he should be taking the chance and losing his virginity now, but it just doesn’t feel right when he doesn’t know how you’ll feel about it afterwards. He presses his forehead to the cool wall to calm himself down and prevent him from looking at how you took his fingers in, withdrawing them just slightly and then pressing them back in. The sound that comes from you makes Neville’s heart skip, so lewd and sinful and full of ecstasy. He wants desperately to kiss you, but he knows he shouldn’t. 

At your renewed pleading, he starts up a steady pace, thrusting his fingers in and out the way he wished he could with his cock, feeling filthy for even thinking it. The wet sound that each thrust made, accompanied by your wanton moans makes him feel like he’s the one who has been infected by the flower, so crazed with desire. Could there have been some pollen on you that he inhaled when he helped you up? It didn’t seem impossible, but he was also a young man, they weren’t exactly notorious for being level-headed when it came to sex. You lean heavily against him, gasping against his shoulder at each press of his fingers, the coil in your belly twisting tighter than it ever had before. You mumble incoherent pleas and he simply shushes you, not trusting himself not to give in to you if you keep talking. 

“Thumb,” you breathe between vulgar moans and though it takes his sluggish brain a moment, he realises what you want. He presses his fingers deeper, fumbling a moment before his thumb grazes your sensitive bud, making you sob in pleasure. His large deft hand pleasures you like it was made for it, all you can think of is the bliss he’s giving you as he hits all the right spots over and over. Your hand flies up, nails digging into his arm as you realise you’re dangerously close to exploding, despite the bite of your nails, he doesn’t let up his pace, too addicted to the sound of your moans to slow down now. “Nev… I’m–” you cut yourself off with a shout, pleasure shooting through your body like you were struck by lighting. Your muscles tense and tremble, your eyes rolling back in your skull, walls contracting around his fingers hard. The pleasure goes through you in strong waves, drowning you in it, not allowing you respite from shivers and moans for even a second as it wracks through you. You’d never felt anything so intense and all-consuming before. Neville feels your essence gush onto his fingers and though he should be relieved it’s over, he finds himself disappointed that he has to stop doing this, hearing those bewitching sounds. Gently, he removes his hand from you and guides your skirt back down your thighs so he can finally look toward you again. His fingers are covered in your essence, creamy and mouth-watering, the only thing that’s able to stop him from having a taste is your hand still clinging to his arm. He waits for you to gather your breath, silently smug he was able to help, but also petrified of what happens next. 

“Are you alright?” he asks delicately, shifting his erection away from your back now that you might actually register it. You open your eyes and look up at him, which immediately makes him frown. Your pupils are still almost comically dilated, your cheeks still pink and clammy, and though it could just be from the aftermath of your orgasm, he immediately knows something is still wrong.

“I feel better… but not entirely,” you whisper and Neville bites his lip. Great. He stands to wash his hands in the sink, and during that brief period of absence, he watches you become consumed by the effects of the flower again, pleading for him to come back. He splashes water on his face and takes a deep breath. You had reached climax, he may not be an expert in female orgasms but he knew what he just saw and felt, so what was wrong? Was the plant in the greenhouse genetically modified in some way? Would he have to call Professor Sprout to ask for help? How exactly could he explain that he’d already given you an orgasm and it hadn’t worked? Looking back, he should have taken you to Madam Pomfrey the second he’d realised what had happened to you, but he thought you would have found it too embarrassing. Now things would be infinitely more embarrassing for the both of you if you sought out help. Lesson learned, just because he’d survived a war it didn’t mean he could deal with anything life threw at him alone. He feels you approaching from behind and turns around, allowing you to sink into his arms. “Stay with me,” you plead, holding him close.

“Okay,” he sighs, because what else can he do now? “I’m here,” He caresses your bare back and tries to forget what he just did to you, but he can’t. “I’m sorry,” he huffs, kissing your forehead without thinking. “I’ve made a mess of things, we did all that and you’re not even cured,”

“Why won’t you fuck me?” you whimper. Your boldness doesn’t even surprise him anymore.

“Because it’s not what you really want, you’d never forgive me once things got back to normal, I was just the only person around for the pollen to latch onto,”

“But that’s what the pollen wants, maybe that’s the only way to cure it, I don’t just want an orgasm, I want you inside me,” you suggest. He’s glad you’re slightly more lucid from the relief of your climax, but you’re still not entirely yourself, your voice slow and sluggish like wading through water when trying to formulate logical thoughts. He can’t deny the way his cock, which had softened slightly, was coming back to life at your words. “Please…” you nuzzle against his chest. “I promise you, I want this even when I’m not… whatever I am right now,” you chuckle. He sighs. He doesn’t quite believe you but he’s running out of ideas of what to do, and your friendship is presumably ruined anyway. Maybe he’s making excuses for himself, but it feels more and more like there’s only one thing for it. He prays you’ll remember how much you begged and how hard he tried to be a gentleman and not hate him, even if you avoid him for the rest of your life after this. “I need you,” you whisper and he gives in.

“Forgive me for this,” he pleads, before lifting you into his arms and moving back over to the bench, sitting down and letting you straddle his lap. You smile at him softly, fluttering your lashes. At least the orgasm before made you a little calmer and more agreeable. If nothing else, if he gets you to orgasm again, you might be even closer to normal. He pulls you to his chest taking a moment to embrace you for what he worries may be the last time. You nuzzle into him eagerly. “I’m a virgin, you know?” he mumbles into your shoulder, not knowing why he feels the need to say it. Those words seem to embolden you, you paw at his chest.

“I promise it’ll be good, please…” you purr. He wonders how you might have reacted if you were your regular self. Would you have found it sweet? Would you have pitied him? You probably knew, everyone knew, but you never mentioned it to him. He allows you to pull off his sweater, lifting his arms and watching you discard it across the room. When you lean in to kiss him, he doesn’t even pretend to put up a fight, holding the back of your neck and kissing you back, pouring all his unspoken feelings into it. He tries to keep it slow and gentle, but you’re far too eager, and the heat starts mounting fast. He pushes away all his doubts, telling himself he can enjoy this, or else it would be even more of a waste. The t-shirt that was under his sweater is next to go, as he pulls away to allow you to rid him of it, he studies your face, still flushed and feverish, but so beautiful, full of lust. His hands fall, one to your waist and the other to your cheek, pulling you back in, pressing his lips to yours and sliding his tongue between them. You moan against his mouth, whimpering a soft sound, a thank you or a plea for more, it’s unclear. He groans back in agreement with whatever it was you intended to say. Your tongues languidly swirl together, caressing one another affectionately. Feeling your warm hands on his bare chest makes him shiver, feeling as you explore the newfound definition of his abdomen, only light, but still a change. In turn, he presses a few kisses to your chest, shakily reaching up to rid you of your bra. It falls away and his cock twitches at the sight of your bare breasts, his breath hitching. He could have never hoped he could see you like this, could have never hoped for any of this, and yet here you were, whining and guiding his hands under your skirt. He runs his hands up and down your thighs as he kisses and sucks at the supple skin of your breasts, giving himself some time to enjoy this despite your hurry. Under different circumstances, he would have liked to have left a mark and asked you to give him one in return, but he knew this was crossing a line as if a million lines hadn’t already been crossed today. At this thought he changes his mind and sucks a tiny mark into the centre of your chest that he’s sure will fade in a few hours, staring at the light pink mark a little wistfully. “Need you inside…” you whine, despite enjoying his affection. There’d be time for that later, but right now it felt completely imperative for him to be inside of you, fearing you might explode if he didn’t give you what you wanted.

“Alright, I get it,” he sighs, placing a few more lingering kisses on the swell of your breasts. Your hands find his belt buckle and without him stopping you this time, they make quick work of it. There’s an awkward shuffle as he helps you lower his jeans around his ankles, but once you’ve settled back in his lap, you take in the sight before you. He looks big even through his boxers, just like you predicted, thick and slightly longer than average. Just the thought of him inside you makes you moan and claw off your skirt with no regard for whether it survives the encounter. Neville’s overheated back presses against the cool wall as he leans back to watch you. He doesn’t bother feeling insecure, as you look like you’ve struck gold as you drool over his length, he supposes in this state you would have been happy with anything. His hands slide up and down your sides, being gentle, taking in the sight of your body, so perfect. He wishes in the back of his mind that this won’t be the last time he sees it, but hope feels too dangerous given the circumstances. He helps you slide your panties down, groaning softly as he spots a string of arousal fluid connecting you and the fabric for a while. You want him so badly. His boxers soon follow and he hisses loudly as your hand wraps around his length. “Oh Merlin…” he whimpers, bucking his hips into your hand. “Fuck, I need you,” he parrots. The ghost of a smile crosses your face as you recognise the words as your own.

“You have me,” you whisper, shifting your hips so you’re above his cock, holding him steady as he twitches. Deep brown hooded eyes stare into yours, he can’t believe his luck. Unable to wait any longer, you sink down onto him. Neville’s eyes squeeze shut in pleasure and he grabs your hips to slow you. You feel perfect around him, warm and silky and inviting, engulfing his whole being in sickly-sweet pleasure. He pulls you close, embracing you as you moan in his ear. Slowly, he lowers you down the rest of the way until your hips are flush with his. For a moment, he simply hugs you and kisses your neck. 

“Feels so good,” he pants in your ear. “So good,”

“You fill me perfectly,” you whine, squirming in his lap for friction. “So big…”

“Yeah?” he coughs, trying to sound smooth but failing, causing him to chuckle nervously. “I won’t last, I’m sorry,” he rubs his hands up and down your spine. “I wish this could last forever,” He lets go of you and leans back against the wall, his hands settling on your hips, taking a moment to admire the sight of you on top of him, him inside you. You feel him twitch within you. “Take what you want, love,” he encourages you to move. There’s no point in him trying to remain in control, all he cares about is that you reach climax, he’s bound to anyway. The nickname makes you even needier somehow, the way his voice is deep with desire. Your hands find his shoulders for purchase, eyes meeting for a moment. You’re both flushed and blissful and the look in his dark eyes shoots a jolt through you. He’s always been attractive, but to see him like this, vulnerable, needy, chest-heaving, it was something else. On his advice, you begin lifting yourself up and lowering yourself down onto his cock, moaning unabashedly with each motion. He stretches you open in the most delicious way, exactly how you’d been picturing all day, or for several years really, perfectly endowed. He relaxes and closes his eyes, groaning and whimpering as you move. Every rock of your hips stokes the flames in the both of you, sending you both toward a common end faster than you regularly might. 

“Thank you,” you purr between moans. “I’ve needed this so bad,” 

“I know,” he chokes out with a tired smile. “I’ve needed it too,” he gently massages the fat of your rear as you ride him, watching in bliss as he disappears inside of you over and over. Your moans rise to a fever pitch, your pace faltering slightly as your climax approaches.

“Yes! Yes!” you practically scream, all your senses heightened as you slam your hips down against him. His face scrunches up in pleasure.

“I’m going to– Ahh!” he grunts, body trembling as he releases thick ropes inside of you, whining with the aftershocks as you continue using him to chase your high. It’s so close, you can’t give up now. Neville’s hands weave into your hair, pulling your face down to his to kiss you. Your tongues meet messily as you struggle to focus on the kiss, preoccupied with your orgasm that is on the tip of your tongue. Heat pools strongly in your abdomen, and you feel the familiar ecstasy of the coil snapping in your belly. Your movement immediately ceases, walls spasming around his length as you moan loudly into his mouth, grabbing him and holding him as close as possible. Your vision whites and your brain goes blank, your whole body twitching violently. He tries his best to soothe you through it, but the pleasure isn’t allowing a single thought to form in your mind for several moments. Finally, your muscles relax and you collapse against him heavily, chest heaving with effort, skin slick with sweat. You vaguely register him removing himself from you and wiping you with a towel, but the corners of your mind are fuzzy and you just cuddle closer to him. You sit in silence for a long while and you nearly fall asleep against his shoulder when he speaks up. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” you hum. He tilts your chin up towards him.

“Open your eyes, love,” he implores softly, to which you flutter them open. He sighs a great sigh of relief, seeing your pupils shrink as they react to the light, dilated now a regular amount, and the flush on your cheeks is much less than before. “Do you still need me?” he asks.

“Don’t go,” you panic, holding him closer, but then you realise what he means. “Oh… no, all I want is to maybe have a nap,”

“Thank Merlin, I couldn’t have gone for another round,” he jokes stiltedly. You giggle, cuddling closer once more. “You don’t hate me then?” he mumbles, as if worried he will have reminded you to hate him, gently pushing some hair from your face. 

“No, you… saved me,” you shrug.

“Saved seems dramatic,”

“Well, who knows what would have happened to me if you’d just run away and left me alone? You didn’t have to do what you did, but you did it for me,” you lean up to kiss his cheek. “You gave yourself to me completely, just to save me from discomfort,”

“Trust me, it was my pleasure,” he laughs nervously and you gently swat his chest. “I’d do anything for you,” he whispers, kissing your forehead with a barely contained tenderness.

“Yeah, you’ve proved that,” you grin, kissing his cheek again. “And I for you,”

“You’d have had sex with me if I’d been the one to bump into the plant?” he prompts, sliding his hand up your bare side affectionately. 

“Of course, I’d have done it way sooner too, not wasted time being a ‘gentleman’,” you tease. “Thank you for that though, it was sweet of you, even if it was unnecessary because I don’t regret it one bit,” you promise him, kissing his lips tenderly. He embraces you tighter for a moment and then loosens his grip. 

“We should probably leave, I bet it's past teaching hours now,” he sighs before helping you up and to dress. Your panties are well and truly ruined, so you’re forced to go commando under your skirt. Neville wraps his sweater around your hips to help prevent it from flipping up as you walk through the grounds back to the dorms. He finds it difficult to dress himself as you keep eagerly kissing him, but finally get himself presentable, only to be pulled into another kiss. It’s not desperate or lustful like before, more playful and excited, and he’s happy to accept them. “I take it you like me,” he chuckles as you hug him tight, his arms around you in return.

“Loads,” you sigh into his t-shirt.

“I do too,”

“My room? I promise we can just cuddle and sleep,” you suggest, smiling up at him.

“Hey, give me a few hours, I might be raring to go again,” he jokes.

“Well then definitely my room so I can help you out, I owe you one, don’t I?” you giggle and wink. He blushes slightly and shakes his head. 

“That plant has made a monster, come on,” he takes your hand in his. “Let’s go before someone notices and starts asking questions,” he opens the door into the greenhouse, accio-ing both of your bags over, as well as the open textbook from the workbench. “Stupid inaccurate thing,” he grumbles, stuffing it in his bag. You merely giggle at his frustration. As you turn to leave, you’re met with a gleam of magic, the door to the outside of the greenhouse rematerialising. The two of you exchange a look, neither of you had realised the door was even missing amidst the whole debacle, but it must have been, or else it couldn’t have reappeared. Hogwarts had forced the two of you together, it was likely your fall hadn’t even been organic in the first place. You knew you weren’t usually so uncoordinated.

“Huh,” Neville blinks, checking that the door now works, wondering when exactly it disappeared and how he had missed it. You scoff and shake your head in disbelief before the both of you laugh earnestly.

“Hogwarts is a total perv,”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

xoxoxo

[astrologydayz]

ASTRO SEXOLOGY NOTES🔞 - NATAL CHART3

Venus in 12th house, or 5th/8th house ruler in 12th house can get into "love" affairs while being on vacations/retreats/In foreign countries/while they're in a hospital/psych ward, and even in prison

Mars square/quincunx MC makes u so damn fine! U can carry yourself a bit "rougher" tho/look unapproachable = "people being intimidated by u", & u being a little "what the fuck u staring at", and we love it💋🤣. People with Venus conjunct/trine/quintile Eros asteroid - 433) r really sexual individuals. But they most of the time need a "personal connection" of some kind, before jumping in2 bed with someone. They ooze sexual confidence tho, because they know what they want&need sexually🤤🫦. Casanova asteroid - 7328) in Libra/7th house/aspecting Jupiter can “stray" away from their partner, quite easily. They can quickly find somebody else, that they find more "fascinating". They get bored fast! But this mostly applies 2men tho💻📓.

Inner planets in earth signs = very sexual beings, so idk what the fuck people r on about. We just don't fuck the 1st John we c on the street🤷‍♀️. Really picky when choosing a sexual/romantic partner, and we also need 2 know that you're trustworthy 1st. But when you finally pull through, we'll show u what freaky means😘.

Scorpio Mars in/8th/12 house in a MAN'S chart can go 4 hourssss 😵‍💫😵‍💫🫠🫠. Unless Mars is afflicted by other planets, like Saturn, or Jupiter. Saturn ruled people got piercings almost always - body/head/genitals🫦👅). Saturn rules piercings, (restriction, and Steel). Add a little pain 2 the mix, &😍.

Pluto conjunct Mars in a MAN'S chart = some serious sex appeal. They're so fucking smooth2, and have no problem with showing their dominant side. They can easily steal yo girl⚠🍆🔮. Everyone wants a piece💦🙄🤣👄.

Venus/Mars/Pluto in 3rd house likes 2 talk during sex. "U like that baby?" "tell me how much u want it", "yeah I like it, when u got your mouth full🍆🍑". They also get off on how much u can "out smart them" - Book smart or Street smart, either way🧏🤭🤓.

Sun opposite Black Moon Lilith can look for sexual partners that looks, or reminds them of their dad🤷‍♀️(Daddy issues).

Funny how people say that Mars/Venus in 8th/8th house in Scorpio people gets more interested, if u make us jealous??? I will literally erase u🫠🧐. If we wanted to share a person, we would have gone 2 a strip club instead.

Venus square Jupiter does not mean that the individual is "addicted 2 sex", unless anything else shows so.

Jupiter in 9th house/Jupiter aspecting 9th house can show that u have big hips/big thighs/long legs💛👅.

Asteroid Varuna (20000) conjunct/trine your 7th house means that your sexual partners makes u famous, "worldwide attention" because of who u date/have close relationships with✨. If it's in Gemini (example), then u could date famous singers, actors, motivational speakers, things like that.

POF conjunct 5th house can cause the individual 2 be very experienced in the department of love, by the end of their lives. They've dated a lot of different people most of the time, and have had all kinds of relationships - polyamorous with some, monogamous with others - examples.

Records asteroid - 30718) conjunct/opposite Mars in a MAN'S chart, can show that he "enchants" people (usually worldwide) with his sex appeal🤤🫠. The opposition shows a "complication", when it comes 2 this = wanting 2 break records for your talent/s/work, & not only4sex appeal👽.

U don't have 2 have Venus/Mars aspecting each other 2 be fine af/gain a lot of attraction from others bc of your looks/sex appeal. Look at Zac Efron - when he was young, Jungkook - BTS, Tupac🤤, Jackson Wang, Hyunjin from Skz, Rihanna, Marilyn, Austin Butler, Justin Bieber - I don't think he's hot, but some people do - I could keep going.

Women with Mars/Venus conjunct/in 8th house = typically sexually attracted2 "misunderstood individuals" - "someone who's bad, &only good4her" kind of thing. She needs an EVERYTHING BUDDY! A loyal lover/best friend/partner in crime! someone who will never doubt her, but challenge her/someone who brings a healthy amount of “competition"/sexy bantering. She also want someone who's REALLY ready2dominate the fuck out of her, bc she's so used2 dominating people on a daily basis💁‍♀️.

Eros - (433) conjunct 11th house = being sexually attracted 2friends/finding fwb relationships 2be the perfect "arrangement"🎉💃.

Mars conjunct/trine "Dominiona" asteroid - 24899) in a MAN'S chart = a VERY sexually dominant man😤👅. "Big daddy takes little daddy energy" - they can command 10 men like that🤌. Won't let anyone try2run up on em, at any time🫠🤤. Masters at dominating "brats"2, they'll put yo ass in place babe💋.

Venus quincunx Eros asteroid - 433) shows us that an individual typically feels like they're not as sexually "appealing" as people say they r/they won't believe others words. They won't "realise" that they're sexy as hell! They let their insecurities speak4them a lot. But once they start getting that “self assurance/self confidence” = they'll quickly realise that they're the shit, when it comes 2 "seducing" - "enticing" others❤️🍒.

THANKS4READING!!!

APPRECIATE U, ALWAYS💋

[multifandom-pleasures]

shadow x reader

A/N: this is just a ramble of shadow and nightmares because i like the idea of him having terrors of his past and such. there is no coherency.

he woke with a start, jerking up in his bed with the blanket kicked down to the foot of the mattress and his fur raised in different ways from his fitful tossing and turning. he didn’t need sleep as much as others did, but it didn’t mean he didn’t need it at all; he still had to sleep on occasion.

he dreamt of his life back in the ark, of maria. of how he had failed to keep her safe and witnessed her death firsthand; the life draining from her youthful eyes and her body fall limp before he was sent hurtling to earth in his chamber. of being awoken after 50 years stasis into a world he had only heard about, full of people being too loud, too greedy, too oblivious. of his burning hatred for these fleshy creatures that were the byproduct of those who rid him of the only place he had ever known as home.

he also dreamt of how he hurtled down to earth a second time, after rescuing the planet alongside the blue hedgehog he so despised. how even in his weakened state, he felt the burning of heat as he crashed through the earth’s atmosphere. of the black arms; of black doom, who of which he was made of; like eve from adam’s rib. he was just as cursed as she.

nightmares, you had called them, when he had woken one night with a cry of maria’s name and woken you as well. you knew all he had gone through, and even in his refusal of your comfort, you helped him to understand; and sat beside him as his adrenaline wore down, helped him count as he took staggered inhales and exhales. his legs swung from the side of his mattress and he made his way to the door, exiting his room to find yours.

you were still sleeping when he cracked open the door, watching for a moment as your chest rose and fell with your slow and steady breaths. his feet still moved before his mind could deny him, climbing onto the mattress carefully; he didn’t want to wake you. he knew why he had craved your comfort, why his heart and mind craved to be near you. he had come up with his own nightmare tonight.

he had lost you. his mind finally conjured up it’s own fear and you were the reason. you wormed your way into his chest and found a home beside his beating heart, cocooned in the hollow of his ribs. your touches were burned into his skin, feeling the ghost of your ministrations even long after you had gone. your laughter and voice echoed in his mind, your sweet words a broken record as he replayed them over and over to himself. as proof that he was as good as you made him out to be.

he feared losing that; of losing you. the one person after so long that he could turn to and feel safe being vulnerable with. you had never judged him. you welcomed him with open arms and comforted him even when he berated your sympathy; insulted your kindness. he didn’t understand how one could show such emotions without an ulterior motive.

he admired your sleeping form, so tempted to reach out and stroke your cheek, brush your hair from your face or to kiss at the expanse of skin before him. why could he not be more like you? when you were ever woken by a nightmare, you never hesitated to seek his comfort. albeit, his comfort was simply raising his blankets and allowing you to clamber on beside him, curling into his side and finding your own comfort by him.

he found he didn’t get nightmares those nights you slept beside him.

he instead carefully wrapped his arms around your torso, easing you to his chest; making sure your stirring was not you waking. he tucked his head into the crook of your neck and curled around you, feeling your breaths and faint heartbeat against his chest. he mimicked you, his own breaths settling into your rhythm.


he would be gone before you woke up; he still was too prideful of himself to allow you to see him after he had sought you out in the night. that he was just as simple as every other mortal creature; who in the desperation of fear, desperately crave and seek comfort. but for now, even if he no longer fell back asleep, he would hold you tightly. assure himself you were living and breathing and his nightmare was exactly what it was - a nightmare.

he would allow the swell of selfish protectiveness in his chest fester that of course you would be fine with him around. he was the ultimate life form, of course, no one would dare cross your paths; or even think to place a singular scratch on your beloved skin. and as the sun would rise and the golden glow would stretch in the expanse of your frame, he would press a kiss to your temple and slip out of your room, to pretend as if nothing happened in the night.

he could only hope one day, his nightmares would cease; and he could search for your touch without the shame of weakness holding him back. and you would be waiting patiently for that day.

[jaeyunverse]

chapstick challenge

pairing: lee heeseung x fem!reader

genres: fluff, suggestive

wc: 1163

warnings: making out

summary: the chapstick challenge is just an excuse for you to get heeseung to kiss you. thankfully, he’s more than happy to oblige.

note: i don’t have the motivation to write but i didn’t wanna let the blog die either so here’s another repost :)

masterlist

“Heeseung!” you popped cheerfully and poked his cheek with your pencil. “Can I ask you something?”

The boy looked at you suspiciously. “What do you want?”

“Do I always have to want something from you?” you asked, your bottom lip jutting out in a pout.

“You’re being weirdly nice and unnecessarily upbeat at 8:30 in the morning so—” he shrugged— “yes.”

“Okay, yeah, I do want something,” you deadpanned, dropping your charade immediately. Heeseung rolled his eyes and you shoved his shoulder playfully in response. “But you have to promise you won’t say no.”

“No.”

“Boo!” you complained. “You’re such a party pooper!”

Refraining the urge to roll his eyes again, Heeseung reminded you, “The last time you made me promise to not say no, we ended up in the goddamn police station.”

“That’s on you for running too slow.”

“You forgot to pick up the bag with the fucking spray paints, Y/N!” he exclaimed incredulously. “They’re expensive!”

“I didn’t mind ditching the bag if it meant our parents remained uninformed about what happened that night!”

Letting out a long sigh of exasperation, Heeseung said, “Just tell me. The free period will be over soon.”

“Okay,” you declared and dragged your chair closer to his desk. Gesturing for him to come closer, you whispered in his ear, “It’s a TikTok challenge.”

The disappointment on Heeseung’s face could not have been more evident. “I thought you had something interesting to tell me. This was so lame.”

“C’mon!” you urged. “I swear it’ll be fun!”

“You know I’m not into TikTok.”

“Are you opposed to the idea of kissing me too?”

“Oh.” His demeanour changed immediately and he leaned towards you with a curious expression on his face. “Tell me more.”

“You’re such a dork,” you teased.

“I’m down for anything that involves kissing you,” he admitted shamelessly and shrugged. “Maybe this will finally persuade you to be my girlfriend. What’s the challenge?”

You snorted. You and Heeseung were definitely more than friends, but you weren’t exactly dating either. He wanted the two of you to be together, but you weren’t inclined to get involved with him—he was moving to another country for college in a few months.

It was already hard for you to come to terms with the fact as a friend. You weren’t sure you’d be able to cope if you began dating him.

Heeseung tried to convince you that you could make a long-distance relationship work, but you knew better than that. It wasn’t realistic—the timezones weren’t compatible at all and you were both way too career oriented to be able to commit to someone who lived on the other side of the world.

So, you just flirted with each other without ever putting a label on whatever you were. A few platonic makeout sessions here and there, a few not-a-real-date dates to make memories, but never girlfriend and boyfriend.

“I apply a bunch of different chapstick flavours and you try to guess them.”

Heeseung grinned mischievously. “Oh, I love what you have in mind.”

“Meet me at our usual spot during lunch break?” you asked, your lips mirroring his contagious smile.

“Can’t wait.”

“Will we be recording the challenge?”

You raised an eyebrow and looked at Heeseung over your shoulder. Tightening your grip on his hand as you tugged him along faster, you said, “I wasn’t planning to. Do you want to?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ll just get self-conscious.”

You laughed. “Are you saying you’re camera shy?”

“I’m saying I would rather focus on the challenge!” he exclaimed, the tips of his ears turning red with embarrassment.

“Relax.” You chucked and let go of his hand. “I’m just messing with you. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

Fetching an eye mask from the pocket of your hoodie, you handed it to Heeseung and told him to put it on. He did, and you uncapped the first chapstick.

After putting it on, you grabbed his tie and pulled him closer. His arm immediately wrapped around your waist, his hand finding its way to your jaw and cupping it gently.

Then, his mouth was on yours. You were a little surprised by how easily he was handling you even though he couldn’t see anything. It made you realise just how well he knew you—how much you’d gotten used to being with each other.

Heeseung tilted his head to the side for better access and ran his tongue over your bottom lip, sucking on it to get a better taste of the flavour you had applied.

“Strawberry,” he guessed without bothering to break the kiss.

You hummed. “You’re good at this.”

He smiled against your mouth and kissed the corner of your lip before pulling away. Removing the eye mask, he asked, “At guessing flavours or at making out?”

“Guessing flavours,” you said with a smirk and slung your arms around his neck. “I’m gonna need to conduct more experiments to reach a conclusion on that regard.”

“Oh, yeah?” he teased, running his thumb up and down the curve of your waist. “Go ahead and apply a second flavour then.”

You did, and this time, Heeseung wasn’t sweet nor gentle. He pretty much had you pinned against the wall, your fingers weaving through his hair and tugging at the strands.

The kiss was deeper and messier, as if the boy couldn’t get enough of you. Could never get enough of you.

His tongue forced its way into your mouth and you knew he wasn’t holding back anymore. He nibbled on your bottom lip, sucking and licking till you lost sense of everything else but him.

Out of breath, you broke the kiss, but Heeseung, it seemed, was nowhere near done. He placed his lips on your neck, allowing you to get some much needed oxygen into your system.

“That’s not where the chapstick is,” you whispered. You wanted his mouth back on yours. Now.

“Chocolate,” he muttered, sucking hard on the underside of your jaw. You hissed in both pleasure and pain. “It’s chocolate.”

Panting, he detached his lips from your skin and leaned against the wall next to you. You glanced at him and noticed that his tie had come loose.

Not only that, but part of his shirt had also somehow untucked itself and his hair was sticking in all directions. What you loved the most about his dishevelled appearance, though, were his swollen lips.

“Bingo,” you confirmed, resisting the urge to pull him against you again. “It was chocolate.”

Heeseung smirked. “Do I get a reward for passing the challenge?”

You didn’t answer immediately, instead fixing your uniform and hair. He watched you intently with dark eyes.

On your way out of the alley between the two secluded buildings at the back of your school, you said, “Why don’t you meet me back here after class and find out?”

The mischievous glint in Heeseung’s eyes was all the answer you needed.

[totallybakedcake]

Imperfectly perfect

Sypnosis- You overwork yourself and your boyfriend freaks out. Pairing- Hoshina x fem reader

Huff, puff,huff,puff. It was now a normal thing for you to gasp for breath and just hold your polearm till it formed bruises in your arms. You were just thinking about your training, nothing more.

You stopped as you heard Okongi say, "Kikoru Shinomoya, release force 70 percent."

"Platoon leader name released force 80 percent. That's the most release force recorded for a platoon leader. Platoon leader name, platoon leader name, can you hear me? Can you hear me?" Okongi spoke, trying to get you back to your senses. Concern was starting to take over her, as you could hear her practically start yelling your name.

"Name!" You felt like you were slapped back to reality. Looking up, you saw Kafka, Leno, and Kikoru looking at you with a look of almost desperation. Kafka was shaking your shoulders while the rest were calling out to you. "Did I zone out?" You spoke as a mere whisper as you felt a wave of pain coursing through your body. Leno spoke, "Platoon leader, name. We were all training with you, but after training ended, you were on the floor, zoning out. It had been 5 whole minutes until you finally responded back to us. You should definitely have a look in the medical room. This has been happening ever since we joined you in training."

"Sorry to bother you guys so much. I am going to go to the medical ward soon, just being prepared after it was said that Kaiju No. 8 was a daikaiju, and just stressing all over. I'm sorry, you gotta get going now."

The trio watched as you hurriedly walked away. I was trying to calm Okongi down as she scolded you. "The platoon leader should really take care of herself. Even if she has great abilities and all, she should start taking care more. Has she even told Vice Captain Hoshina about this?" Kikoru and Leno nodded in agreement before walking away for lunch.

You love Hoshina more than your own life, but sometimes you really cannot show your true self to him. Down the whole mask of an understanding and cool person you try to be. There are many things that are hidden deep inside your heart. There are some things that you cannot express to your dear Hoshina.

Name was taking quick strides to get to a place. She was trying to cover herself so no one could see her, but then she arrived. A traditional Japanese estate, it was adorned with lamps and cute statues. The doors and windows were huge when you turned to the left; there was even a pond in the whole area. You went towards the backyard to see the preparations already done.

There he was, Mr. Hoshina. The current head of the Hoshina clan, as well as Soshiro's father, He was already in a kimino with a katana in his hand. He looked towards you and said, "Let's start, name."

Flashback

"Soshiro, it has been almost a month with no improvements." You slumped against the wall, burying your head in your arms. You would cry at any moment. It had been almost a month, and your release force was just decreasing. You could lose your position as a platoon leader if this continues. Soshiro had been a witness to your breakdown. He tried many times to calm you down and motivate you, but now he needed a new method. He went towards you, gently placing you on the sofa as he kissed your temple and said, "Oh cupcake, why do you worry about your pretty head so much? It makes me feel upset too. How bout' I tell you a great plan that will work surely?" He was rubbing your back in a comforting manner as you peered up with puffy red eyes.

"Tell me." You spoke just like a sad child, glimmering with hope. Soshiro grinned. He loved this particular trait about you a lot. He leaned down and spoke in a teasing manner. "For that, calm down." Showing him a pout and a glare at the same time, he grabbed your hand and spoke. "My father is great at polearming and close combat too. How about you train under him? It will surely prove results." He spoke in a promising tone that made you obviously agree with it.

Back to reality, it really worked. Your capabilities as a platoon leader skyrocketed. You were so happy—too happy, in fact—that you almost suffocated the vice captain himself in a tight hug. He was just glad that you were back to your usual persona, nothing more.

But things started to go downhill after that. You started training a lot more. After all the new Kaiju threats, you had to. You would overwork yourself to the point that even drinking water or getting proper rest was a second priority now. You just wanted to be strong and protect Soshiro and others with your strength, nothing more. Did you tell Soshiro about this? No. Will you? Absolutely no. He will stop your training as a whole and will be extra protective of you if that happens.

You tried your best to hide all the exhaustion and pain your body had started to accumulate, and you showed signs of overworking, but still you tried to cover it up. No matter how hard you tried, Hoshina was destined to find out about it.

It was evening, and you were still training. You were still training and training before you felt pain in your nose. It was a nose bleed, the sixth this week. You just wiped it off with your hand before getting in a position where you could fight, but you felt someone grab your hand in a firm grip. "Name, that's enough." You looked to see Soshiro; his eyes were wide open, looking at you. You were sweating buckets as blood was smeared on your face. Small cuts and bruises were peeking through, which was making Soshiro more concerned as the seconds went by.

"Let's go home." Soshiro spoke in a demanding tone as he grabbed your hand and started to walk.

You, on the other hand, felt really dizzy; your head was spinning, and the moment you moved your body, it ached. Feeling all the energy drained out of you, black splashes appeared in your vision as everything went black. Soshiro's eyes widened as you fell into his arms, his body going completely limp. "Name, this isn't funny. I don't like this prank. Please wake up." He shook your body, but no reactions came from you. He cussed; he knew you were training hard, but to the point you passed out because of it was something he never imagined. If only he had been faster to catch on, this wouldn't have happened.

He scooped you up in his arms, cradling your exhausted form. He just wants you to be okay.

Fluttering your eyes open, you groaned in pain. Your head throbbed, your entire body was feeling different types of pain, and your eyes felt heavy. "Yer awake, how are you?" You turned your head to see Hoshina coming close to you, as he had a tray with soup. His voice was much quieter and calmer, the opposite of his normal cheerful self. His eyes were wide open, and you could see the bags under his eyes.

"What happened?" Was the first thing you said.

Hoshina's expression turned grim as she placed the tray down and sat beside you on the bed. "Name, you passed out from exhaustion. You've been pushing yourself too hard."

You tried to sit up and get closer to him, but dizziness fell over you as Hoshina pushed you back down, his grip on your hand getting tighter. "Promise me, promise me you will never overwork yourself like that ever again." He held out his pinky finger and looked at you with a soft gaze.

"I promise." You interweaved your fingers in his as he pulled you closer for a deep kiss. The butterflies were flooding your stomach as heat rose up to your face.

"I have forcefully given you a week to recover, so no arguing now." He grinned as you let out a scoff and pulled him for another kiss. "I wasn't planning too."

Soshiro fell on top of you as he wrapped his arms around your figure, trapping you in his embrace and peppering you with kisses.

Let's just say he spoiled you rotten this night.

Note- Aah I did it I uploaded this thing. It was super fun to write this. My next kaiju no 8 fic might take a while as the next thing I will upload is a windbreaker fic. I watched the whole anime 4 days and completed the manga very quickly too, exams are now coming and just school is just too much now so no new fics maybe.

Have a good day!:D

[dwaekkicidal]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: inspired by chan's part in this

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: almost exactly 1k words lol (993)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: gn!reader; nicknames: honey, pup(py), kinda pervy!3racha but chanxreader, not really bratty but super whiney reader, soft chris until he talks dirty, kinda dacryphilia?, creampie & no protection (don't be silly wrap ur willy also pee after sex pls), exhibitionism, not a warning really but I switch between calling him Chan/Channie & Chris

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: @chvnmax im so sorry (im not that ask put not normal thoughts in my head.) idk if this is actually full on corruption kink like the og post but it sent me into a pervy skz spiral

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

Picture this:

Stray Kids recording day for their next comeback. You’re their cute little 9th member and they always have you do your set of lines last so that they can take their time with you. Everybody but 3racha has already returned to their assigned dorms. Changbin and Chan are sitting in the office chairs while Jisung lounges on the couch (probably asleep).

They watch in awe as you nail most of your lines until you get to one that’s a little too hard. After multiple takes not coming out well, you’re so busy moaning and groaning into the mic out of frustration that you’re chronically unaware of how crystal clear your sounds are coming out for them. Eventually it even gets to the point where you bounce in place out of pure agitation. You’re in a low-cut top and the clear view of your collarbone has the 3 men on the other side of the glass in an absolute chokehold.

“Honey.. You gotta calm down.” Chan says softly into his own mic, adjusting his dick in his pants. You pout and cross your arms across your chest, accidentally pulling your shirt lower as you toss and turn in a fit. Jisung is basically drooling from his spot on the couch and it’s honestly his breaking point. Changbin and him decide to take a 'walk' and say they’ll be back in an hour with food, while Chan says that he’ll stick back with you to help perfect your lines.

It’s all going well until you get to another bump in the recording and you complain into the mic to the point where your eyes water. With the sight of your watery doe eyes and deep pout staring at him from the other side of the glass, Chris really starts to get bothered by the tightness in his pants.

“Come out here, Pup. Let’s take a break.” He says with only pure intentions as he stands and stretches. Little to no ulterior motives while you rush out the room and throw yourself into his arms, rubbing your chest onto him and looking up at him with those pretty eyes again. Completely innocent motives until he glances down to where your bodies meet, his eyes catching a glimpse of your pretty nipples thanks to your shirt dipping even more.

Deciding that he’s had enough he closes his eyes and loudly groans before meeting your eyes again and holding a death grip onto your hips. He leads you to the couch as you look up at him with an innocent look.

“Channie..?” you ask out sweetly. You expect a response but he silently turns you around and bends you over the couch, one of your knees rest on the bottom cushions while he squishes your face into the back cushions.

“You just have to be a little brat, huh. Just can’t be a good puppy for one goddamn day.” He teases and pulls the skimpy booty shorts you wore. He pulls your underwear down to your knees before freeing himself from his stupid jeans. Wanting to skip the prep and knowing you were still loose from the events in the storage room a few hours prior, he pulls out a travel sized bottle of lube from his pocket before squirting some onto his dick.

He gives you no time to react before he rubs himself against you and thrusts into you, setting a fast pace right off the bat. The tears from earlier return and are quickly soaked up by the couch when they finally fall. You whimper apologies into the cushions as Chris lets out filthy comments from behind you.

“It’s never your fault, is it baby?”

“Always a big cry baby until Daddy stuffs his dick inside your pretty little holes.”

“Fuck.. Walk around like a little ‘innocent’ thing when in reality it’s your fault I'm this hard. Rubbing all up on me like a little slut.”

After what feels like forever of him bullying himself into you, the pair of you hear the two loudest mfers in the planet return, getting closer to the door before being stopped by a staff member. They’re right outside the door and you moan loudly into the cushion at the thought of them hearing what's happening behind the unlocked studio door just feet away from your spot on the couch. You're almost thankful for Chris’ big hand that keeps your face on the couch, but that quickly changes as he pulls you back into him by placing a hand on your collarbone. Once your back is to his chest, his hand moves up to trail along your lips. He sticks 2 fingers against your tongue as you hear him speak up from behind you.

"Shh... You want them to hear you?" you clench tightly and his hips stutter "… fuck You do, don't you?.. Yeah? You want them to join us too baby? Want them to help me fill your greedy holes?"

When you cry out into his hand and cum at the thought, he laughs into your neck before chasing his own high. You’re pulled back into reality as you hear the boys finishing up their conversation. Chris pulls out and wipes himself down with tissues, then pulls your underwear back up and smooths down your clothes before returning to his chair.  He takes his seat right as the door knob turns, and he smirks at you as the boys settle the food bags on the coffee table (oh and look at that no more tight pants for either of them lol).

“Eat up, baby. You need to refuel before we continue.” Chan says with a playful look in his eyes. You blush and nod before taking bites of your meal. You watch as Changbin re-records a few adlibs and you swear you can feel something warm dripping out of you.

[lvlyfawn]

KATE MARTIN X PREGNANT WIFE READER

word count; 640 words.

authors note; i love love love feedback!! please come into my inbox and tell me what you think, it really helps to motivate me!

— cried when you told her. tears of joy of course, the two of you had been expecting it. the treatment was bound to work at some point, and if it didn’t, you’d adopt. holding the pregnancy text in hand, you’d cried as well.

— you had recorded your reactions as the test was flipped over. just for the memories, not to post. the pregnancy was not nearly ever posted, you preferred to keep these nine months all to yourselves. the public knew that the kate martin and her wife were expecting their first child, but it wasn’t found out until you were almost ready to give birth. once the baby was born, you tried to keep their face and name out of the media as much as possible. you and kate only wanted this baby to have the most normal life they could have.

the most you’d post, was pictures where you bump was not shown.

— nearly always had her hand on your stomach. everywhere you went, kate stood next to you holding onto you protectively. if you wanted space, your wife stood not too far away, but far enough to keep you happy. in addition to always touching your belly, she’d kissed it all of the time. she truly couldn’t believe it was finally real.

— kate just hopes for a healthy baby, not specifically a boy or a girl. but, when you found out the gender of the baby, the girl was over the moon. you were having a boy. every second she got, she rambled on and on about how good this would be for her nephew, carson. one of the greatest joys of the pregnancy was watching your wife hold carson in her arms and tell him about how his new cousin would be his bestfriend.

— every morning your wife sat on the side of the bathtub, holding back your hair and rub her hand on your back attempting to soothe you. she wishes morning sickness wasn’t a thing at all :((

— cooked for you every night, and every morning. always making or buying what you craved. her cooking wasn’t great, but you never wanted to hurt the poor girls feelings. so the two of you spent lots of time eating out. the thought was what counted after all.

— kate was forever thankful that carson had provided her with practice, and that she had awesome role models that gave her many tips. of course, you’d wake up late in the night to pee, and you’d find the blonde in the living room tiredly watching videos on how to swaddle or burp a baby.

“kate, baby, come back to bed. give the teddy bear a rest. you’ve got six months.”

— speaking of late nights, the girl would sit next to you with her hand on your stomach trying to feel some sort of kick. she couldn’t help but feel jealous that you’d always get to have the extra closeness to the baby during these nine months. and that you’d always be the first to feel the kick. but times like these, she cherished, it helped you to share the experience with her.

— after the six month mark, and your bump had grown larger, kate did everything for you. she took care of everything, cleaning, preparing the nursery, and she still had time for her career. the girl was constantly doting on you, showing how much she truly loved you. no matter how many times you told her she didn’t need to do this all, she’d insist.

— and once your child is born, it’s born somehow looking like the perfect mix of both of you, even though you knew that wouldn’t be possible. funny how you carried this baby for nine months, yet he is just as sassy as kate.

divs by @/anitalenia , feedback encouraged + anons are on. taglist; @bveckers @kmoneymartini @cosmopretty @charlottehughess @aubreygriffin. comment to be on taglist!!

[mistiell]

Let me put my Lips to Something

Pairing: Spencer x Fem! Reader

Summary: After learning about his aversion to touch, you tone down the physical affection. Spencer finds himself missing your touch, and after weeks of yearning, he’s had enough. He decides it’s time to fix this.

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Fluff, it gets pretty steamy towards the end but nothing graphic so I don't think this needs age restricting lmao

A/N: Part 2 to “I’m Starvin’, Darlin’”. The feedback on the last part motivated me to finish this in like, a single sitting lmao. Hope y’all enjoy! :)

P.S. My requests are open so if you wanna send something in for Spence, I'll do my best to get to it quickly!

Part 1 - Current - Part 3

Spencer hadn’t realised how much he wanted — how much he needed — your touch until you stopped. Where there was once that warm, tingly anticipation whenever he made you laugh, there‘s now a strange absence left in its wake. Where there used to have been a bump or a squeeze, there are awkward smiles and nervous glances. Like a line of dialogue without end quotations, left to hang in the balance while the author considers what should be said next.

It’s killing him.

He’s come to realise that this want extends beyond the bounds of anything that could ever be considered platonic. He wants more than your touch. He wants you.

He craves you, finds himself remembering the way your arms felt around him the last time you hugged him. Finds himself fantasising about how it would feel to be the one to take you in his arms. How it would feel to be the one to hold you; to cradle your face between his palms and lose himself in your kiss; to let go of his inhibitions and drown himself in the depths of your affections.

He wants your time and energy. He wants your attention and praise. He wants to be the one to make you smile and laugh so hard your stomach hurts. He wants to be yours, and he wants everyone to know it.

It’s only been three weeks since that night at the bar, but even so, he feels like if he doesn’t figure out how to tell you how he feels, he might very well lose his mind. You’re right across from him all day, five days a week. It’s torture. Perhaps he’s being dramatic, but at this point, he’s well beyond caring.

The problem is, how on earth is he supposed to go about confessing to you? He’s never been suave or charismatic. He’s awkward and dorky and breaks a sweat every time anyone even remotely attractive looks his way. He’s never felt this intensely about anyone before, never desired anyone this way before. Sometimes, late at night when he’s finally tucked himself into bed, he attempts to calculate the probability of you ever wanting him in the way he wants you.

In his pessimistic mind, that number is despairingly low.

“Spence?” He startles at the sound of your voice, snapping his head up to look at you.

You’ve worn a different lipstick today. It’s a little darker than your usual colour, a rather glossy, rosier shade of mauve. He thinks he’s seen it somewhere before, and the name pops up from somewhere in his memory.

“Rum raisin.” He mumbles, staring intently at your lips and wondering briefly if it would transfer if he kissed you.

“What?” You cock your head at him with an amused sort of confusion.

He blinks once before clearly his throat, “Oh, um, your lipstick.”

You raise your hand so your fingertips hover over your bottom lip as you smile at him, “How’d you know?”

“I saw it in a drugstore once.”

You chuckle and shake your head, “Your memory never ceases to amaze me, Spence.”

His heart swells as he smiles sheepishly, “Thanks.”

You hum before gesturing to two big boxes of files that are sitting on your desk, “Could you help me run these down to records?”

“Oh, yeah.” He’s quick to cross the short distance to your desk and purposely picks the heavier of the two boxes.

The trip down to records is a rather tedious one as of today. The elevator is out of order so you have to take the stairs from the sixth floor to the third.

“Do you like rain?” You ask, and it takes him a moment to realise you’re looking out water speckled windows at the stormy street below.

“Yeah.” He leaves out the part that the possibility of power outages and the darkness that accompanies them unnerves him greatly.

You turn your head to smile at him as you reach the records room, “Me too.”

He opens the door for you before you have the chance and lets you go in first, letting the door shut behind him. He follows you into the room, weaving between shelves and stepping over boxes that have yet to find their places. He watches you skim over the yellowed labels, your lips twitching as you read them off in your head.

You find the spot you’re looking for and make a sound of satisfaction before bending at the waist to slide the box into place, your skirt sliding a little further up to press against the plush flesh of the backs of your thighs. His gaze wanders up the length of your body and stops at your chest. From this angle, he’s able to see the curve of your breast and he swallows hard. Squeezing his eyes shut, he shakes his head, feeling ashamed for ogling you like that.

Behind the darkness of his eyelids, he sees the lights flicker and when he opens them, he finds he’s not able to see much more than when he had them closed.

Shit.

“Damnit, the power’s out.” You curse, taking the box from him and slotting it in next to the other.

He takes a deep breath. The dark isn’t as frightening with you there in front of him, but that familiar anxiety pricks his chest and settles heavy in his gut.

“Spence?”

He wonders when the emergency lights will come on. Maybe they’re already on in the hall. He feels along the wall and shuffles back over to the door. When he tries the knob, he finds it locked. Now he’s panicking a little.

Well, maybe a lot.

There’s a clap of thunder outside that’s so powerful that he feels it in his chest and he jumps, breath catching in his chest as he screws his eyes shut as if it’ll make a difference.

“Spence?” You call again softly, “Are you okay?

“Y-Yeah.” He stutters.

“You don’t like storms?”

He shakes his head before realising you can’t see him, “No, not really.”

“Me neither.” You whisper, and he hears the shuffling of your clothes as you shift your weight between your feet and huff a breathy puff of nervous laughter, “I don’t like the dark either.”

“Me neither.” He echoes, wetting his lips briefly as he considers how to comfort you despite how anxious he is himself.

Carefully, tentatively, he reaches for you in the dark and takes your hand, just barely brushing his thumb over your knuckles. Your skin is soft and warm, and he attempts to find your face in the dark as he murmurs ever so softly, “Is this okay?”

“Yeah.” You reply just as softly, squeezing his hand.

It’s a little unsettling not being able to see you. He can hear you breathing, and having your hand in his feels so nice, but he wants you closer.

“Can I…” He trails off, but tugs at your hand so you’ll step a little closer. He swallows his nerves, “Can I distract you?”

It’s a lame excuse, but it’s all he can come up with on the spot.

“Distract me how?” He can hear the smile in your voice and it encourages his steadily growing confidence.

He pulls you closer, and you step further into his space. He places a hand on your waist, and you don’t recoil. In fact, you come a little closer and set a hand on his chest. You slide it along the length of his shoulder and up the back of his neck to thread your fingers in the hairs at the base of his skull and he shudders, lips parting to sigh softly. Your thumb settles just behind his ear and strokes the skin there tenderly and he can’t stop himself from leaning down to gently bump your nose with his, giving you plenty of time to pull away, to tell him you don’t want this.

“Can I kiss you?” You ask so innocently, breath fanning over his lips in a steady rhythm as his eyelids flutter shut.

“Please.” He breathes, leaning in to meet you halfway.

Your lips meet his timidly and his heart stutters in his chest. There’s a second where you pull back to let him breathe, let him get used to the feeling. His eyes open a sliver, just enough to make out the edges of you in the dark as his brain catches up with his body. And then the shock passes.

And he devours you.

The hand that was on your waist comes up to cradle your cheek as he brushes his tongue against your bottom lip in a silent request. You grant it, opening up to him to let him roll his tongue against yours. You stand on your tiptoes and lean further into him, returning the kiss with a fervour he wasn’t expecting but welcomes happily. He can taste your lipstick and is pleasantly surprised to find it tastes a little like vanilla.

There’s a push and pull of tongues and teeth and soft little sighs as he dares to slip his hands down and pull you flush against him by your hips, revelling in the breathy moan that slips from your throat and meets his mouth. He pulls away only to kiss sloppily at the corner of your mouth and down your jaw. He nips at the juncture between your neck and shoulder, smiling against your skin when you gasp and tug at his hair. Mouthing at your skin, he searches until you whine and shudder after he drags his teeth over a particular spot and focuses his attention there.

He sucks a nice bruise into the spot, some primal part of him driving him to mark you up and claim you as his while he has you here. He bites a little too hard and you hiss, making him pull back and search for your face in the dark.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?”

“Mm-mm.” You hum before immediately capturing his lips again, slipping your tongue into his mouth and swallowing the moan that escapes him.

He guides you by your hips until he has you pressed against the door, sliding a hand down the length of your thigh before slipping it up past the hem of your skirt to grab greedily at your flesh. He hikes your leg up by his hip and you hook your knee around it to pull him impossibly close.

His touch is tender even as he practically swallows you whole, thumb stroking the side of your thigh where your skirt has ridden up. He rolls his hips up against your experimentally and you whine, urging him to do it again. This is what he’s wanted — craved — for so long. You’re warm and soft in ways that his imagination could have never replicated. He’s dizzy, drunk on your kiss, on your touch, on you.

He’s attached himself to your neck again — the other side this time — when the lights flicker on, startling you both into looking up at the ceiling.

The room is filled with nothing but the sound of your combined laboured breathing, and when he looks back at you, he finds your face flushed and your lipstick smudged. You look back at him and he notices your pupils are blown wide as you suddenly smile and start giggling.

“What?” He chuckles, letting go of your thigh so that you can stand on your own two feet again.

“Rum raisin looks good on you, doctor.” You laugh, thumbing the remnants of your kisses off of his bottom lip.

He kisses you once again, smiling against your lips.

You tug him back and laugh again, “You’re making it worse!”

He does it again, and again, and then peppers kisses over the side of your neck until you’re giggling something awful and have to scrunch your shoulder to your ear to keep him from tickling you.

“Spencer!” You squeak as quietly as you can and he pulls away laughing.

Your giggles die down, and then you’re both left in a silence that isn’t awkward, but isn’t quite comfortable either. He has to say something, but what?

“Hey, would you, um,” You start, glancing down at his lips and biting at yours nervously, “Would you like to go out with me sometime? Just us?”

He blinks, wanting to pinch himself to make sure this is actually happening, “Like, a date?”

You nod. He blinks again before practically beaming at you.

“Yeah.” He nods, attempting to correct the smudged edge of your lipstick with his thumb, “Yeah, I’d really like that.”

“Saturday? Five o’ clock? We can do whatever you want.”

He nods again, “Sounds good.”

“Good.” You smile, leaning up to kiss him, your touch so saccharine and gentle that his legs feel like jello beneath him.

The doorknob jiggles suddenly and he instinctively reaches to help you button up your blouse a little more while you fiddle with the collar until it covers the rather obvious hickey on your neck.

“Hey, are you two still in there?” Derek calls from the other side as you attempt to help Spencer fix his hair to no avail.

“Uh, yeah!” He calls, clearing his throat after his voice cracks up an octave, “We accidentally locked ourselves in.”

“Here.” You bend to slide the key under the door, and this time, he stares unabashedly, “That’s the key.”

The knob jiggles a little more before the door opens, and when it does, Derek eyes the two of you suspiciously, “You guys okay?” He locks eyes with Spencer and smirks, “You seem a little winded.”

“Yeah, we’re okay.” You smile, hastily walking out, “The boxes were just heavy. Plus, we had to walk all the way down here.”

“Yeah, okay.” Derek says, though it’s clear he isn't convinced. When you get a little further ahead of them, he claps Spencer on the back with a bright grin, “About time, loverboy!”

“Shut up.” Spencer shoots back, though he can’t help the smile that creeps up on his face.

This is not how he expected his confession to go, but — as he watches you walk down the hall a little ways ahead of him with a renewed pep in your step and your hair a little dishevelled — he is so glad it went the way it did.

———————————————————————

Edit: I had a couple people request a part 3 (Possibly smutty, but we shall see), and I'm curious about whether or not y'all would want that? Just let me know in the replies/reblogs. :)

Update: Part 3 is posted and linked at the top of this post :)

Taglist:

@louderfortheback @theblaxkbird @marimorena06 @special-forces7 @lolilkkk

[robolvrr]

Tf1 D-16 and Tf1 Megatron with a femme cybertronian reader that was his idol (and crush) in Iacon? Readers like let’s just say a queen in Iacon👍 Thank you!

phoenix, sing your song! ✧⁠*๑ 🎤

d-16/megatron x femme!cybertronian idol.

gladly! took some liberties. mild suggestive under the cut.

d-16

"heh heh. does dee have a crush?"

"wh— you know what pax. i'm not even gonna entertain that question with a response."

"lotta words for 'yes i wanna smooch on phoenix's tailpipes' -- whoof, OW!"

you know how d-16 worships his idols. which there aren't many but entertainment culture is actually very encouraged in iacon. except for the cogged, this is simply as it's stated -- enrichment. for the cogless? it's escapism and a source of motivation.

there's sentinel prime, of course. and megatronus, though the whole mining barracks knows that. however... there is also you. phoenix, sweetest vocals this side of the planet.

jazz was actually the one who got him into your music. orion isn't the only mech that frequently sneaks up to indulge in city life. he's just the one that usually gets caught and brags about it.

jazz managed to drag him to the farthest, farthest corner of an open venue for one of your shows. had to climb buildings and balance on a ledge just to view from above the concert space and the thousand of mechs crowded below. you're cogged and while he really doesn't pay too much mind to them outside of when the race occurs, he thinks you're... very, very pleasant to look like.

you got ruby plating and your chrome is sparkling.

there's lightning gold accents trim at your door-panel wings and your eyes look a lot like his. hazy, orange and bright with an energy he wants to cup in his servos.

entire time you sing your spark out he's sitting still. (actually, he's vibrating.) jazz has a lazy smile on his dermas and asks him if he wants to score some merch once the guards clear out.

after that evening? he shuffles his megatronus posters and stickers around his humble locker and plasters your face there in the space near his mirror. almost looks like you're smiling at him.

at first he tried his best to learn more about you. jazz jokes that he's accidentally created some superfan monster.

like, did you know that you were actually originally an bellhop? he can't imagine you fluttering after mechs with their luggage, but once upon a time you did.

there was a club in the hotel you worked in - angellite.

past bio and autobiodatas tell about how you worked your way up through the ranks before finally scoring a spot to getting to a microphone.

the rest? history.

so you're pretty, talented, pretty, hardworking -- did he mention pretty too?

jazz doesn't always accompany but d-16 starts to sneak out frequently when he isn't buried in work to any and every event he can.

meet and greet? you can bet he used all his rations to bribe a mech to bribe another mech to bribe the announcer to get his questions up to you.

there isn't an action, though he takes the "prime gossip" catalogues not as seriously, he isn't aware of regarding you.

"this one's out to the brave miners who keep this city living. half proceeds will be going to better recharge and work conditions and equipment. i love you iacon!"

that show had caused a lot of drama. he thought your unmoving support and genuine want to connect with all of your fans for the better of the city to be super inspiring.

there's rumors of you visiting the mines, shortly before the iacon 5000. he will call a million cycles off if it meant getting to see you, not yearning through pictures and recordings and miles of distance.

hums your songs under his breath when he works.

orion does not shut up about it. he enjoys your music too but mostly is happy d-16 is happy. though he does joke that he clearly has a type.

megatron

"no more hiding. no more deceit. stand with me, or fall with everything!"

you recall the fall of iacon with stunned melancholy. there isn't the time of forever to process what went down that fatal day.

the support meet in the mining sectors had been cancelled after the race. you were just as inspired by the rowdy pair that had flung themselves into the danger of an event that was never built for them to participate.

it hurt, to hear they had passed away. sentinel had given a grand speech and his condolences even while on the surface.

he had his loyal femme reach out personally. airachnid coldly informed that the death of the miners had momentarily halted the energon collection.

you were rigid when she suggested you perform. a modest showing of mourning, personally scribed to the miners and their fellow workers.

"this should motivate them", she had whispered. ""it's what they would have wanted."

what a nuke in your lap to find out quickly that had been a lie. all of it had. and you felt sick.

had any of your income, any of your efforts, even gone to your largest supporters? had you just been showboated around to be a. shiny little dream? keep the common mech in wanting?

before you could even figure out how to react, a silver mech towered over many and ripped the very thorn from your side clean in half.

his coolant sprayed all over. you had never seen a mech... die before. and sentinel was far from just that. he may have been a false one, but he was a prime.

you fixed your optics and zoomed in. megatron, the beast has yelled. megatron is my name.

then the buildings started to crash. the city crumbled as chaos threatened to envelop it. you had damaged your pedes and tangled your legs in rubble but even your own pain is not loud enough to pierce through the frightened masses. you're scared and angry and confused.

when the dust settles, you can't even vent yourself to comfort. larger arms yank your mangled chassis free and suddenly you're flying, shrieking as dozens follow. you watch iacon get smaller and smaller and when you finally stop twitching, weakly gaze at the head of formation.

a oiled tank, bursting through rock like pit on wheels.

your processors offline after that. you just recall floating, smoky oil and rage.

d-16

"the queen of iacon. that sounds nice."

i like to think that miners in particular rarely have the time to blow off too much steam. seriously. the captains and proctors make sure they work every klik of their shifts.

during recharge? well, that's a different story. the barracks are intimate but most don't actually worry about being a prude.

d-16 is constantly stressed. orion is on his hip nearly all the time so he enjoys slipping away to the shower stalls in his lonesome after grueling mining and just.. sit.

when he sits, his processors wander.

lately? they like to circle around you. you're not like sentinel prime or megatronus. you are tangible. he gets closer and closer to your radiance the more bold he gets.

his crush is wholesome and if not somewhat obsessive. like a hyperfixation. he doesn't mean to stare at your figures but you're just so cute.

your voice is a powerhouse too. he has wondered after quiet, whiny moments if your praise is just as poetic.

loves, loves your frame. it's flawless. jealousy doesn't grip his spark like it occasionally does weaving through the crowded city during daylight. he has to dunk his head in hot oil when he thinks about that lethargic grin and your helm speckled in rock and dust at his side.

has made one, deleted ahem... tribute video to you.

megatron

"go on. sing, songbird."

you were taken insurrection day by one of the seekers nearly torn apart.

much of your memory bank was corrupted. at least, that is what the doctor told you.

you aren't very trusting of his words. his attention is an extension of his master's, which leaves little time for you to plan escapes or hide from the inevitable.

megatron has been emptied, carved up and resurrected as a troubled, stubborn force of nature. he clearly is able to sift positive bonds aside as the sticky, hot upset he's toiled with overpowers them all.

however, you and him? never ended in bad terms. and that is the problem.

you're alarmed to learn he was the very miner that was pronounced dead to all of iacon. he speaks low and measured and you try your best to read him, because he's on the precipice of snapping what seems to be all the time.

the base of the newly birthed decepticons is quiet. you don't belong. the brand on your chassis doesn't belong.

he's still clinging to you. behind the heavy-duty doors of his berth, he tosses and turns in his rest, plagued with his actions.

his servos barely pleasure. though you sit heavy on his glossa as he lets those weapons of destruction give him a moments peace.

megatron isn't as manipulative and conniving as he comes to be later down the road. he still visits you though and you begin to feel guilty.

if you plan on being affectionate to gain your freedom it's a mistake.

suddenly, you're thrust into his arms. he scratches your paint. he's saying nasty, awful prayers in your audials and squeezing every saccharine lilt hungry.

"keep going... keep. hn. singing."

robolvrr 2024.

[03jyh23]

🔞⌇ateez reaction to walking on you sexy dancing

!minors do not interact!

trigger warnings: highly suggestive, sexual themes, the word ''daddy'' used when singing along to a song, jealousy, lap dance, implied masturbation, lingerie

— hi there! it's my first time posting reactions! i always wanted to try and decided to finally go for it! let me know if you like this type of post from me? can't believe i am exposing the songs im shaking my ass to like this lol but enjoy! (yeah, i was totally cleaning to all of them today and my mind couldn't help but... daydream)

love, monika ♡

⌞hongjoong⌝ get busy by sean paul

You were cleaning up for a longer while, meticulously tidying each corner and surface of your home. Your phone was connected to Hongjoong’s expensive, high-quality music set, filling the room with crystal-clear sound. Cleaning wasn’t your favorite thing to do, but since Hongjoong was busy in the studio working on his latest project, it was better to tackle the chores during his absence than when he was at home and potentially in the way. You prefer to be alone when cleaning, with nobody to disturb you or interrupt your rhythm. The solitude allowed you to focus entirely on the task, making it somewhat more bearable. Your cleaning playlist was set on shuffle to keep you motivated throughout the extended cleaning session. You were wiping off the table when Get Busy by Sean Paul started playing, and you knew damn well the next thing you were going to do was shake your ass to one of the best songs ever recorded, at least in your opinion. The infectious beat and energetic rhythm were too irresistible to ignore. You could feel the music pulsing through your veins, compelling you to drop the cloth and start moving to the rhythm. You were swaying your hips left and right, your hands clapping to the rhythm. The music seemed to take control of your body, your movements becoming more fluid and enthusiastic with every beat. Lost in the music, you didn't notice the entrance door quietly opening. You put your hands into your hair, untangling them from the bun and shaking your head in the matching rhythm to your hips. You finally dropped in a swift motion to the floor, doing the sexiest drop you could, your hands between your legs and then up on your knees when you were back standing in a swift motion. You were attempting to twerk, and oh lord, you couldn't do that even if your life depended on it, but you were enjoying yourself so much you didn't even care about looking funny. You closed your eyes, letting the rhythm move you. Hongjoong stood there, leaning against the wall with a smirk on his face, watching your dance performance. He had finished his work earlier than expected and decided to surprise you, but it seemed you were the one providing the surprise. He couldn't help but chuckle softly, finding your carefree dancing endearing. You once again dropped to the floor, your hands moving up your chest and to your neck as you followed the rhythm. The song's final notes reverberated through the room, leaving you feeling exhilarated and out of breath. As the music faded, you took a moment to catch your breath, when you finally noticed your boyfriend looking at you. Oh.

Your eyes widened in surprise, heat rushing to your cheeks as you realized Hongjoong had been watching you the entire time. "How long have you been standing there?" you asked, trying to sound casual but failing to hide your embarrassment.

He pushed himself off the wall and walked towards you with a grin, "Long enough to decide that the next thing I’m gonna produce will be a dancehall song."

You laughed nervously, still trying to process the fact that Hongjoong had been watching you. "I didn't know you were back," you said, attempting to divert the attention from your dance performance.

He chuckled, "I finished early and thought I'd surprise you, but clearly, you were having your own little party here."

Blushing, you replied, "Well, cleaning is more fun with some good music."

Hongjoong nodded in agreement, "I can't argue with that. But next time, maybe save some of those moves for me?" He winked playfully, making you laugh.

"Maybe I will," you teased back, feeling more at ease now that the initial embarrassment was fading.

He walked over to you and pulled you by your hip into a kiss, deepening it with a passion that made your heart flutter. When he pulled back, his eyes were filled with warmth and affection. "Mind dancing for me again?" he suggested, taking your hand.

You smiled, feeling a rush of excitement. "Only if you join me," you replied, squeezing his hand gently.

Hongjoong laughed, "Deal. But don't blame me if I steal the spotlight." With a playful grin, he led you back to the center of the room, ready to dance together.

⌞seonghwa⌝ super bass by nicki minaj

Seonghwa was busy with his newest Lego set, and you left him be, knowing well he needed his time alone to relax doing his hobby. You watched him for a moment, admiring the way his fingers deftly assembled each piece with precision and care. The concentration on his face was evident, and it made you smile to see him so immersed in something he loved. To avoid disturbing him, you went to your shared bedroom, closed the door behind you, and decided to put on some music. You connected your phone to the speakers, and scrolled through your favorite playlists, looking for something that matched your mood. You chose a female top tracks playlist you often play in the car when driving with Seonghwa. Out of boredom, you decided it was high time to fold your clean laundry and put it back on the shelves and racks. The pile of freshly washed clothes had been sitting in the basket for a few days now, and you figured it was the perfect opportunity to finally tackle the task. As you sorted through the clothes, separating them into different categories, Super Bass started to play, and you smiled hearing the familiar beats. The rhythm of the song lifted your spirits, and you found yourself swaying to the music as you folded. It made the chore feel less like a task and more like a dance. You couldn't help yourself but rap to the song, putting on a small performance. You twirled around, pretending the laundry basket was an audience, and let the music take over. Each note you sang seemed to make the task more enjoyable, and you found yourself getting lost in the melody.

Your favorite part, the bridge, came closer, and you could feel the excitement building inside you. In one swift motion, you grabbed the chair and positioned it in the middle of the room. With a burst of energy, you put one of your legs on it, striking a dramatic pose. You sang at the top of your lungs, completely forgetting about not disturbing your dear boyfriend, "See, I need you in my life for me to stay." You closed your eyes and moved your body sensually to the beat, letting the rhythm take control. Each sway of your hips and roll of your shoulders felt instinctive, the music guiding your movements ''Don't you hear that heartbeat comin' your way?'' you sing, your voice blending seamlessly with Nicki's. You sat down on a chair, swaying your hips to the rhythm, feeling every beat pulse through your body. The music filled the room, creating an atmosphere of sultry energy and anticipation. As you continued to sing and move, you noticed Seonghwa entering the room, his eyes widening slightly as he took in the sight before him. You couldn't help but smile, your hips moving with even more confidence and allure. Seonghwa's presence only added to the excitement, and you felt a rush of adrenaline knowing he was watching you.

"Like what you see?" you asked playfully.

Seonghwa's lips curled into a smirk, and he leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. "I always do," he replied, his voice tinged with amusement and admiration. His eyes sparkled with affection as he watched you, clearly enjoying your performance.

Feeling emboldened by his reaction, you continued your playful dance, letting the music guide your movements. With each beat, you moved with more confidence, fully aware of Seonghwa's gaze on you.

As the song reached its climax, you struck one final pose, breathing heavily. Seonghwa clapped softly, pushing off from the doorframe and walking towards you. "That was quite the show," he said, his tone filled with genuine admiration.

You laughed, still catching your breath. "Well, I aim to entertain," you replied with a wink.

Seonghwa reached out, gently tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. "You always do," he said softly, his eyes locking onto yours. For a moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in your little bubble of happiness. "I think I might need a private encore later," he whispered, his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

"Maybe," you teased, "if you're lucky."

With that, the two of you shared a knowing smile, the chores momentarily forgotten as you basked in each other's company.

⌞yunho⌝ smack that by akon, eminem

It was Saturday night and your boyfriend was once again spending his whole weekend preparing for his Artist of the Month performance. You were genuinely happy that Studio Choom finally contacted him, as you knew nobody deserved it as much as Yunho, but you wished he could keep his weekends off for both of you to enjoy. You were ready to go out with your friend, dressed to impress, your hair and makeup looking expensive the way you liked the most. You were finishing your glass of wine, savoring the last few sips as you mentally prepared yourself for the evening ahead. The music was playing in the background, setting the perfect mood. You were supposed to turn off the music and order yourself a taxi to get to the bar, but then the song changed to Smack That by Akon and you couldn't force yourself to skip it. The infectious beat immediately caught your attention, and you felt a surge of energy. You found yourself moving to the rhythm, swaying your hips, and rapping along to the catchy lyrics. Your hips were moving suggestively to the song, a glass of wine in one of your hands, the other on your waist helping you to keep the right rhythm. As the chorus started, you smiled to yourself, feeling a playful energy surge through you. You put your wine glass down. With a mischievous grin, you grabbed your ass and did exactly what was in the song title, moving in perfect sync with the beat. And in that moment you heard a thud. You looked in the direction the sound was coming from and saw your boyfriend walking towards you with determined strides, his bag on the floor behind him. His intense gaze was fixed on you, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. You couldn't even react when he grabbed your chin, firmly lifting your face to meet his eyes. His other hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you into him with a possessive grip. The proximity made your heart race, and you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin.

"Looks like someone's having fun without me," Yunho murmured, his voice low and husky.

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening as you stared into his eyes. "I didn't hear you come in," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the music.

Yunho pulled you in for a deep, passionate kiss, his lips capturing yours with an intensity that made your knees weak. Without breaking the kiss, he firmly turned you around, his strong hands guiding your body with ease. One hand slid down to your thigh, gripping it possessively, while the other wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. You could feel his breath on your neck, hot and demanding, as he pressed you hard against his crotch. The sudden contact sent a shiver up your spine, your body responding instinctively to his touch. His grip tightened, making it clear he wasn't planning to let go anytime soon. You pushed your ass harder and pressed it against Yunho’s crotch, clearly enjoying the effect you had on him. He groaned softly, his breath hitching as he felt the pressure. "You ain’t going nowhere," he muttered, his voice thick with desire.

"I guess my plans just changed," you whispered, your voice weak as you felt your boyfriend's lips on your neck.

⌞yeosang⌝ work by rihanna

Yeosang went to the gym earlier this morning, telling you he wanted to get in a good workout before starting the day. He promised to be back by lunchtime to take you out for a nice meal and perhaps some shopping or a walk in the park. You waited for him patiently, ready to go whenever he would return. To pass the time, you turned on the big TV screen and played Rihanna’s top track playlist. As you mindlessly scrolled through social media, the catchy tune of Work started to fill the room, and you couldn’t help but move your body to the rhythm. You've always loved that song so you got up from the couch. The infectious beat took over your body, making you sway your hips and move sensually to the rhythm. You made your way to the table to put your phone down when the chorus hit. With one hand, you held the table to keep yourself steady as you dropped your ass to the floor, swaying it left and right as you were slowly getting back up. You could feel the burn in your thighs as you moved back up, but the infectious beat of the song made it all worthwhile. The sensual sway of your hips felt natural, almost instinctive as if your body was made to move this way. With each rise and fall, you felt more and more in tune with the music, your confidence growing with every beat. As you stood back up, your movements became even more fluid, your body fully embracing the rhythm. You turned around, and to your surprise, you faced Yeosang, a red blush covering his neck and ears. His eyes were wide with surprise, clearly taken aback by your dance.

You bit your lip, feeling a rush of both embarrassment and excitement. "Enjoying the show?" you asked, trying to sound casual despite the butterflies in your stomach.

Yeosang's eyes widened even more, and he struggled to find his words. "I... uh... didn't mean to interrupt," he stammered, his voice tinged with both surprise and admiration.

"You better not have," you teased, giving him a playful wink as you continued to dance, feeling more confident with each passing moment.

Yeosang's face broke into a shy smile, the blush deepening as he took a cautious step closer. "I didn't know you had moves like that," he said, his voice tinged with both admiration and bashfulness.

You laughed, feeling a sense of pride mixed with playful embarrassment. "There's a lot you don't know about me," you teased, giving him a wink as you continued to sway to the rhythm. Yeosang swallowed hard, his eyes taking you in, clearly captivated by your sensual movements. His gaze traveled over your body, lingering on the way your hips swayed and the confidence radiating from you. You could see the admiration and desire in his eyes, making you feel even more empowered. You stepped closer to him as you danced, putting one of your arms on his shoulder, your gaze shifting from his eyes to his lips, then back up. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the anticipation building between you. Slowly, you started to go down, your hand tracing down Yeosang's body, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt. As your hand traveled lower, his breath hitched. You moved with deliberate slowness, savoring every moment, every inch of his body under your touch. When you finally reached his waist, you paused for a moment, looking up at him through your lashes. The intensity in his gaze made your heart race, and you could tell he was struggling to maintain his composure. You continued your descent, your fingers brushing against his thighs, feeling the tension in his muscles. As you reached the floor, you gave him a teasing smile, your body swaying seductively to the rhythm of the music. The atmosphere was electric, and charged. You started to rise again, your hand retracing its path up his body, feeling his breath quicken with each passing second. You stood up slowly, your body still swaying to the rhythm of the music, and gave him a teasing smile, "Should we get going?"

Yeosang's eyes were full of desire, and he took a deep breath before responding. "I think we can spare a few more minutes," he replied, his voice husky. You laughed softly, feeling a rush of excitement at his words. You continued to sway your hips to the music, your body moving closer to his. Yeosang reached out, his hand gently caressing your waist as he pulled you even closer. "You’re making it really hard to focus on anything else," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

You smiled, feeling a sense of power and confidence. "Good," you whispered back, your voice filled with playful seduction. "Because I don't want you thinking about anything else right now." With that, you leaned in and captured his lips in a passionate kiss, your bodies moving together in perfect harmony to the rhythm of the music. As the kiss deepened, Yeosang's grip on your waist tightened, his hands exploring the curves of your body.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other. "Maybe we should stay in after all," Yeosang suggested, his voice barely above a whisper.

You laughed softly, nodding in agreement. "I think that sounds like a perfect plan," you replied, feeling a sense of contentment and excitement for the moments yet to come.

⌞san⌝ buttons by pussycat dolls

Your boyfriend's birthday was coming up, and your friend had talked you into giving him a lap dance. Initially, you were a bit hesitant, feeling shy about the idea. Not everybody's boyfriend was an incredible dancer, and you didn't want to embarrass yourself. The thought of trying to match San's moves and charisma when he was performing made you a little nervous. You decided to give it your best shot, hoping that your sincerity and the love behind the gesture would shine through, even if your dance moves weren't perfect. It was a late evening before his birthday, and for the hundredth time, you played the music video to Buttons, trying to figure out how the hell Nicole did that move on that chair. You watched her every move, analyzing the choreography with a mix of admiration and frustration. The way she effortlessly blended strength and sensuality was mesmerizing, and you couldn't help but feel a bit intimidated. Determined to get it right, you positioned a chair in front of the mirror, mimicking her moves as best as you could. You adjusted your posture, trying to channel Nicole's confidence and grace. The music filled the room, and you attempted the dance sequence once again, focusing on the smooth transitions and precise movements. Despite the challenges, you felt a sense of accomplishment with each small improvement.

When you finally got everything right, you decided to try and rehearse the choreography one last time with your outfit, or lack of it, and shoes on. You still had some time until San would get back home, so you went into your room and put your lingerie on, together with the high heels. You took a deep breath, trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach. After adjusting the straps and checking your reflection in the mirror one last time, you walked back to the living room where you had set up the chair. The anticipation built up inside you, and you could feel your heart racing. You started the music once more, letting the familiar beats fill the room. As you moved through the choreography, you felt a sense of empowerment. Each step, each sway of your hips, was a testament to your determination and love for San. You imagined his reaction, the look of surprise and admiration in his eyes, and it fueled your performance even more.

The door creaked open just as you were finishing the routine. Your heart skipped a beat as you saw San standing there, his eyes wide with surprise and a smile slowly spreading across his face.

"Well, this is a surprise," he said, his voice filled with admiration.

You blushed but didn't stop, finishing the last few moves with a flourish. As the music faded, you stood there, slightly out of breath, but filled with a sense of accomplishment and anticipation. "You weren't supposed to see it yet," you stammered, your voice tinged with a mix of surprise and shyness.

San's eyes twinkled with amusement as he took a step closer, his smile widening, his dimples showing. "Well, I have to say, I'm glad I did," he replied, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "You look amazing baby."

You took a deep breath, trying to regain your composure. "I wanted it to be a surprise for your birthday," you admitted, feeling the initial nervousness starting to fade away.

San reached out, gently taking your hand in his. "And it is," he said softly, his grip reassuring. "The best surprise I could ask for."

With his encouraging words, you felt a surge of confidence. "Well, in that case," you said with a playful grin, "why don't you take a seat and enjoy the full performance?"

San's eyes lit up with anticipation as he nodded eagerly, quickly finding a spot to sit down. You restarted the music, letting the rhythm take over as you began the dance once more, this time with him as your captive audience.

⌞mingi⌝ streets by doja cat

You were incredibly mad. Mingi was attending one of those prestigious award ceremonies, and being the supportive girlfriend that you are, of course, you decided to watch it live to cheer him on from afar. During one of the last performances by one of the most popular girl groups, they were doing an incredibly sexy choreography on chairs. Your boyfriend was, unfortunately, unlucky enough to be caught by the ever-watchful cameraman staring intently at one of the girl group members. To make matters worse, a wide grin spread across his face as he licked his lips, completely mesmerized by the performance. Oh, how you wished you could reach through the screen and wipe that stupid, infuriating grin off his face. You were already plotting your next move, determined to make your boyfriend pay for his wandering eyes. The revenge will be sweet. The opportunity presented itself a few days later when he was about to return home from the award ceremony. Mingi texted you he was on his way from the airport and you were so ready to make him squirm and beg for forgiveness. You dimmed the lights, and lit up candles across the living room, creating an intimate glow. You had meticulously prepared for this moment, wearing the lingerie he got you for your birthday on your body. The delicate lace hugged your curves perfectly, making you feel empowered and seductive. As you waited, you could feel your excitement and anticipation growing. You replayed the scene from the award ceremony in your mind, fueling your determination to make him understand the consequences of his actions. The sound of the front door unlocking pulled you from your thoughts.

Mingi stepped inside, his eyes immediately widening as he took in the setting. His gaze traveled over your body sitting on a chair in the middle of the living room, lingering appreciatively on the lingerie. You could see the momentary confusion in his eyes, quickly replaced by a look of desire.

"Wow, what's all this?" he asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and excitement. You walked towards him slowly, your hips swaying seductively with each step. Without a word you took his hand and guided him to the chair, pushing him down gently. As he sat, you pressed play and Streets started playing. You straddled his lap, your hands resting on his shoulders. Mingi was quick to grab your waist but you pushed them off of you quickly, "No touching," you warned him as your hand grabbed his hair, pulling his head back slightly. His eyes widened in surprise, but a smirk quickly formed on his lips as he realized you were in control. You leaned in close, your breath hot against his ear as you whispered, "Tonight is all about you learning a lesson."

Mingi's smirk faltered slightly, replaced by a look of anticipation and desire. You could feel the tension between you growing thicker, the air charged with electricity. Slowly, you moved your hips, grinding against him in a tantalizing rhythm, your hands never leaving his hair.

His breath hitched, and you could see the struggle in his eyes as he fought the urge to touch you. "You like watching other girls, huh?" you teased, your voice dripping with mock sweetness. "Well, let's see if you can handle just watching tonight." You continued your slow, deliberate movements, your body arching and swaying to the rhythm of the music. Each motion was designed to drive him wild, to make him regret ever letting his eyes wander. The intensity of his gaze and the way he bit his lip told you that your plan was working.

⌞wooyoung⌝ drunk in love by beyoncé, jay-z

You were bored out of your mind, your boyfriend had been playing games since early afternoon, leaving you to yourself. You finally switched off Netflix, feeling unsatisfied with the endless scrolling. With a sigh, you opened the YouTube app, hoping to find a soundtrack to make your time in the kitchen more enjoyable. Lately, Wooyoung and you were into Beyoncé, so you played her music video playlist and went to the kitchen. Music filled the room, the lively beats instantly brightening your mood as you gathered your ingredients and started to cook dinner. After a short while, you heard the intro to Drunk in Love and you decided to play it louder. The sultry beats and Beyoncé's mesmerizing voice filled the kitchen, making you sway your hips as you chopped vegetables. You couldn't help but sing along, feeling the music take over your body.

You took one of the big dippers and started to sing to it, pretending it to be your microphone. You feel like a superstar on a grand stage as you move around the kitchen, twirling and dancing as if performing for a captivated audience. Every so often, you glanced towards your boyfriend's room, half-hoping Wooyoung would notice your performance and join in the fun. But for now, you were content to let the music and your imagination take you away.

You sit on the counter, the rhythm of the music coursed through you, compelling you to sway and groove in time with the beat. Your hand gripped the edge of the counter for balance as you leaned back slightly, letting your head tilt and your hair cascade down your back. You sang along to the lyrics, your voice blending with Beyoncé's. Your hips rolled sensuously, matching the sultry vibe of the song, and you couldn't help but smile, feeling utterly in the moment.

"Baby, would you mind turning the music down a bit?" you heard Wooyoung call from his room.

You smirked, feeling a wave of playful defiance wash over you. Ignoring Wooyoung's request, you raised your voice and sang the lyrics with even more enthusiasm, "I been sippin', that's the only thing, that's keepin' me on fire, we on fire!" Your voice echoed through the kitchen, you jumped off the counter, grabbing the big dipper again as your microphone, and strutted across the kitchen floor, feeling like a superstar on a grand stage. With each step, you let your hips sway more dramatically, fully embracing the rhythm. You spun around, your hair whipping through the air, and belted out the next line with just as much fervor.

Wooyoung poked his head out of his room, his initial frustration melting into a fond smile as he watched you.

You bit your lower lip and looked at him while singing, "I want your body right here, daddy, I want you, right now."

Wooyoung's eyes widened slightly, a smirk playing on his lips as he took in your playful performance. He stepped out of his room, the game momentarily forgotten, and walked towards you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Oh? Is that so?" he replied, his voice low and teasing as he reached you.

"Can't keep your eyes off my fatty, daddy, I want you" you continued singing as Wooyoung took the microphone from your hand, setting it aside before pulling you close, his hands resting on your hips. You wrapped your arms around his neck, swaying in time with the beat as you gazed into his eyes.

"Maybe I should take a break from my game," Wooyoung murmured, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

You smiled, feeling a rush of excitement. "I think that's a great idea," you replied, pulling him even closer.

 "You know, you might just be better than Beyoncé," he joked, looking into your eyes.

"Oh, please," you laughed, feeling your cheeks flush. "But I'll take the compliment."

With a shared laugh, the two of you danced together in the kitchen, the earlier boredom forgotten as you lost yourselves in the music and each other.

⌞jongho⌝ partition by beyoncé

You got out of the shower, towel loosely wrapped around you, as you went through your evening routine. Jongho was still at practice, the tour was coming, so you knew better than to wait for him. He probably wouldn't be back till dawn. You glanced at your phone, hoping for a message from him, but the screen remained dark. You knew how important these practice sessions were, especially with the tour coming up, but you couldn't help but miss him. You moved to your bedroom and decided to play some music before heading to bed. The apartment felt unusually quiet without Jongho's presence, and you needed something to fill that silence. You connected your phone to the speaker and scrolled through your playlist, finally settling on a Beyoncé mix. The first notes of Partition began to play, the sultry beat filling the room. You ruffled through your wardrobe, searching for one of Jongho's t-shirts to sleep in. His scent always brought you comfort, especially on nights when he wasn't around. As the music played, you found yourself swaying to the rhythm, the infectious beat making it impossible to stand still. You tossed aside a few of your own shirts, determined to find one of his that you loved the most. The groove of the song took over, and you started to move your hips more deliberately, feeling the music course through your body. Finally, you found one of his oversized t-shirts at the bottom of the drawer. You held it up to your face, inhaling deeply before slipping it on. The fabric was soft and comforting, and you continued to dance, feeling a little closer to him with each step. You loved how Beyoncé's music made you feel sexy and empowered. You lay down on the bed and started to do your own choreography for the song. The rhythm guided your movements, each beat making you feel more confident. Your hands traced along your body, feeling the music in every touch. You couldn't help but feel a little hot all over as you kept twining around the bed, the music guiding your every move. The rhythm pulsed through you as you turned to your stomach, your ass up, matching the sultry beats of the song. The soft fabric of the bed sheets brushed against your skin, intensifying the sensations coursing through you. In no time, you were on your knees, grinding against the bed with a deliberate, sensual motion. Your hands gripped the sheets, your body moving fluidly to the music, lost in the moment. You played a bit with your t-shirt, lifting it playfully as you felt yourself getting worked up. The cool air against your skin mixed with the heat of the moment, intensifying your sensations. You let the fabric slide back down, but not before teasing yourself a bit more, feeling the gentle brush against your skin. With each sway of your hips and each subtle lift of the t-shirt, you could feel the tension building within you. The combination of the music, the feel of the soft cotton, and the thought of Jongho made your heart race.

You were so lost in the rhythm and sensations that you didn't hear the front door open. Jongho stepped inside, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of you moving sensually on the bed, wearing his t-shirt. He stood there for a moment, captivated by the scene, before quietly walking towards the bedroom. As he reached the doorway, you finally noticed him, your movements slowing as your eyes met his. The intensity in his gaze sent a shiver down your spine, and you could see the desire and admiration in his eyes. Jongho was stuck by the way your hips grind hard against the bed. Taking a few slow steps forward, he let his eyes roam over your body, appreciating every curve and movement. The intensity in his eyes made your breath hitch, and you could feel the heat between your legs growing with each passing second.

"Need some help, baby?" he asked, his voice low and husky, filled with a mix of admiration.

The words escaped your lips before you could fully process them, "Yes, please," you breathed out, your voice laced with more neediness than you had intended.

Jongho's lips curled into a smirk as he sat down on the bed beside you, his hands gently guiding you to straddle him. The music continued to play as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Let me take care of you."

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