#I FINALLY HAD THE TIME/ MOTIVATION TO RECORD

[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!

[tojicide]

JEALOU$Y. ☆ CALEB.

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦. at the end of the day, you and caleb are just childhood friends—nothing more, nothing less. so, when you mention going on a date, it’s totally logical that he wouldn’t care, right? if only that were the truth.

𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠. fem!reader, current!caleb, zayne mention, jealousy, pet names, praise, oral ( fem. receiving ), cowgirl, unprotected p in v, creampie. 𝑤𝑐. 5.4k.

𝑛𝘰𝑤 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔. jealou$y — the neighbourhood.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ✧ masterlist | request

Doomsday has finally dawned upon Linkon City, though Caleb seems to be the only person truly affected by this catastrophe.

It was all his fault in the grand scheme of things. He hadn’t been clear enough, hadn’t shown the full extent of his feelings for you. But above all, he should have never offered Zayne those measly words of advice.

He should have known that the doctor had ulterior motives. Why else would he have called Caleb up one week ago to ask about you of all people?

It was a mean ploy, truly. Anyone and everyone knows about Caleb’s inability to shut up about you, his sole weakness was being exploited right in front of his eyes and he was none the wiser. The questions seemed harmless then. Posed as genuine curiosity, Caleb would have never been able to decipher the hidden intent behind each word that Zayne spoke into the receiver.

What are her days off? What does she do in her free time? You said that the restaurant around the corner from Akso Hospital was her favorite, yes?

In retrospect, he should have absolutely seen this coming. But then again, nothing could have ever prepared Caleb to hear those four life-altering words slipping from your lips.

“I have a date.”

A record scratches in his brain, forcing him to halt his steps for an abnormally long time before he slowly turns to face you. “You… what?”

Hearing the words repeated in that saccharine tone of yours only added salt to the wound, oddly enough. It physically pained him to ask for more information about your date, though he managed to hide his disdain with that boyish grin of his and a bit of lighthearted teasing.

But inside? That little green monster was stirring, and there was very little he could do to quell it.

Begrudgingly, he managed to get the key details before forcing himself to stow away in his bedroom and… think. Next Thursday. 6 PM. Maltosio Restaurant. With Zayne.

The next week passed by in an agonizingly slow fashion. It was as though each X that marked a passing day was a physical blow to his already aching heart, and those adorable images of the kittens on his calendar (the calendar that you picked out) did very little to help him.

Subtlety was never his strong suit, but then again, desperate times call for desperate measures. And believe Caleb when he says that he is very much desperate.

“Soo…” he’d drawl, leaning over the back of the couch to peer down at you. “I heard there’s a screening of that movie you’ve been wanting to see at the drive-in next Thursday. Wanna come with?”

You perked up like a ball of excitement, and for a moment, Caleb allowed himself to get his hopes up, but your frown quickly dissipated them. “Next Thursday? Oh, no, I can’t make it! I’m going out with Zayne, remember?”

Of course he remembered. That was exactly why he hadn’t let up—not even once—in his attempts to distract you just enough to make you forget all about your dinner plans. He could take you out for a nice dinner too. Say, that’s actually a good idea…

The next day, Caleb tried that one.

“Oh, pip-squeak,” he sang, his airy voice ringing through your apartment as he walked down the hallway. “I got us reservations at the restaurant in Skyhaven that you’ve been itchin’ to check out.”

You perked up, just like you did before. “Really?”

He nodded with a triumphant grin, internally patting himself on the back for his own good idea. “Mm-hmm. Next Thursday. Got us those window seats you wanted too—the ones that overlook the city.”

And once again, your gaze softened, and an all-too-adorable pout tugged at the corners of your mouth. “Oh, Caleb, I’m sorry. I’m busy that day.”

You really are too sweet for your own good. He can’t even blame Zayne for taking an interest in you, he’d be downright shocked if any man with two seeing eyes had the audacity to not think that you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Caleb sure does. He always has. He always will.

It wasn’t long before the day of reckoning was upon him. Thursday evening. Sunlight cut through the blinds in the living room, casting golden hues across the vast space. Much to his dismay, the trashy reality television you’d left on the screen did very little to soothe his worries.

He fidgeted with the dog chains you’d gifted him, his thumb brushing along the gift that you had so kindly given him. It was a testament to your bond. A bond that something as trivial as a single evening apart couldn’t tamper with… right?

“Caleb!” Your antsy voice cut through the air, forcing his wandering mind to snap back to reality.

He was up and down the hallway before you could even say another word, pressing a flat hand to your door to nudge it open. It was then that he saw you, all dolled up in your robe with your favorite dresses laid out on your bed.

Your hands grasp onto two of the hangers, holding them up side-by-side to help him get a better look at them. Though, his eyes were noticeably distracted, contorted in an unfamiliar lovesick expression as they pierced into yours. “Quick! Which do you think is cuter?”

Caleb blinks—once, twice, three times—until he forces himself to finally look down at the dress options in your grasp. He’d seen you wear them plenty of times before, and the thought of someone else seeing you in such beautiful fabric nearly made his stomach lurch.

He raises his forearm, leaning against the doorframe as he rubs the back of his neck. “Oh, c’mon, that’s an impossible choice. You’ll look beautiful no matter what you wear.”

It was a typical response, one that you were expecting, though his lack of advice made you hmph as you lost yourself in your thoughts. “Well… I hear polka dots symbolize happiness and stripes symbolize slipping between realms. Pretty interesting stuff, huh?”

“Very interesting,” he says, the corner of his mouth tugging up at the mere sound of your voice. “Is that why you buy so many things in those patterns?”

You quirk an eyebrow, confusion etching into your expression. “Huh? What else do I buy that’s…” It quickly dawns on you, and you can feel heat creep up your neck and reach your face. “You’re a jerk.”

Caleb can’t help but laugh, taking a few steps into the room so that he can properly look at each and every one of the dress options laid out on your bed. “What’s the matter? If I remember correctly, someone was beggin’ me to do her laundry. Somethin’ about the laundry machine being sooo far and your feet hurting sooo bad.”

Huffing and far too flustered for your own good, you shake your head. “Well… well I didn’t realize you were so observant.”

He clicks his tongue, absentmindedly pinching your side as he leans down to rest his chin in the dip of your shoulder. “Tsk. You know I’m always observant when it comes to you. Even if it’s remembering something as trivial as the patterns of your cute little undies.”

You swat him away. “You’re so annoying!”

To that, he can only chuckle, giving your sides a brief squeeze before taking a few steps back. “Alriiight, alright, I’ll leave you alone.” Before exiting the room entirely, he hangs onto the doorframe, giving you a soft smile. “I’m serious though. You’ll look beautiful no matter what you wear.” His lips curve into a smirk. “But if you want my input—you know I’ve always been a sucker for seeing you in florals.”

And with that, he whisks away, silently hoping and praying that this date will fall through on its own. Plopping back down on the couch, his eyes are practically glued to his watch. 5:48 PM. It wouldn’t be long before Zayne would be knocking at the front door—punctual as ever. Oh, it made him sick.

How could he have done this? To you, to himself? Caleb should be ashamed. He should be the one sitting across from you later tonight, holding your hand and listening to you ramble about whatever your heart desires. It should be him. It would have been him if he wasn’t so damn afraid.

But the sound of approaching heels clicking along the hardwood floor quickly snapped him out of his pity party, prompting him to look over his shoulder. And there you were once again, now adorned in a floral sundress that had made him lose his mind more times than he’d like to admit.

Under his breath, he can’t help but mutter, “Yeah, you’re gonna kill me…”

It was his favorite dress of yours, too. You really were trying to kill him. A white dress that was littered with blue flowers, the fabric fit you perfectly, loose and fitted in all of the right places.

Zayne didn’t deserve to see you like this. Plain and simple.

Standing from the couch, he lets out a low, appreciative whistle. “There she is,” he says, taking your hand to spin you around a single time. His smile only widens as he sees yours. “You look gorgeous, just like I knew you would.”

You roll your eyes with a bashful smile, one that he has to physically fight the urge to kiss away. “Oh, you flatter me,” you say through a laugh.

He shakes his head, bringing a hand up to gently smooth down a pesky hair on the top of your head. “Can’t be flattery if I mean every word of it.”

A breeze wafted through the open window, blowing the fabric of your dress ever so slightly. The scent of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers infiltrates the living room, though the scent of your perfume and something that was uniquely you had his full attention.

“Y’know, you can be pretty nice when you want to be,” you say, raising an eyebrow.

Chuckling, he simply nods, his large hands settling on your middle. “Yeah. When I want to be.”

You brush past him, padding over to the back door. Pushing it open, you step out onto the warm concrete patio, breathing in the fresh air that the backyard had to offer you. Spring in Linkon was always a delight, though the warmth that Caleb radiates behind you serves to be the most comforting thing about the entire scene.

His hand comes to rest on the curve of your shoulder, his fingers nimbly pulling at one of the straps of your dress. With his heart rate shooting through the roof, he forces himself to take a moment. He needs to get this right. This may be the last chance he’ll be able to do this.

“I… look, there’s something that I—”

But suddenly, the sound of rapping knuckles at the front door cuts through the tense silence. Both of your attention is drawn to the closed door, and having left the back door open, you both have a clear view of it.

You turn around to face Caleb, offering him a sheepish smile. “That’s probably Zayne.”

He only nods, forcing his hand to fall back to his side. “Yeah, probably.”

This was it. He was losing you. It stung to know that this was no one’s fault apart from his own. His inability to be honest about his feelings, his lack of forwardness with you… what was he expecting? That you’d never date? That he could keep you happy forever without offering you anything more?

It was a stupid fantasy, one that had earned him this spot. But when he saw you turn to leave, your eyes still locked on his, a surge of panic shot up his spine. His eyes flit around—the grass, the flowerbeds, the hose… that was currently filling up the pool…

“Be mad at me later,” he suddenly says.

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Wha— ah!”

Before you could even begin to process what was happening, you were suddenly pushed back into the chamber full of chlorine infested water. Caleb watches with a wry expression as you shoot up from beneath the water, splashing aimlessly as you swim towards the edge.

“What the fuck was that?” you bark, perching one elbow up onto the concrete as you reach the other one out to him. “What the hell are you looking at? Help me out!”

Caleb can’t even protest, not with the incredibly irrational stunt he’d just pulled. “I’m sorry, pip-squeak, I just…” And so, he reaches down, his hand clasping around yours… until you pull him forward with all of your strength and send him tumbling into the pool too.

And when he comes up for air, you splash him the moment he opens his eyes. Serves him right. The chlorine will sting his eyes almost as much as your mascara is stinging yours right now.

With that, you pull yourself out of the pool, a trail of water marking your path as you wring out the fabric of your dress. After that, you disappear inside of the house, leaving Caleb to rub his eyes in utter defeat.

He gives you both a long stretch of alone time before he retreats back into the house like a kicked puppy, his head hanging low as he runs a hand through his wet strands of hair. You’ve evidently told Zayne that today wasn’t going to work anymore, judging by his lack of presence, and that thought alone makes Caleb more happy than he should be.

Sucking in a short breath, he knocks twice at your shut bedroom door. “Honey? It… it’s me.”

“Go away,” you retort without missing a single beat.

Caleb pokes his tongue into his cheek as he leans forward, resting his forehead on the cool surface of your bedroom door. “C’mon. Just… talk to me.”

It doesn’t take long before the door is swung open, revealing an incredibly angry version of you with a freshly cleaned face. He opens his mouth to speak, to apologize, to try and rectify the situation in any way he can, but you beat him to it. Quickly.

“How dare you?” you spit, jabbing your index finger into his chest. “What was that, Caleb? Are we ten years old again? Your method of communication is… is pushing me into the damn pool?”

He sighs, catching your hand to unfold your closed fingers. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I—”

“No!” you cut him off, sticking your other index finger into his chest. “It’s your turn to listen. You’ve been my best friend for as long as I can remember, you’re all I’ve ever known, all I’ve ever wanted. Do you know how it feels to have everything you want dangled in front of you for so many years, and… and just torn away? Time and time again?”

Caleb is rendered speechless, his brows furrowed in both confusion and a sense of odd relief as you unleash all of the thoughts that you’ve kept hidden for so long. He doesn’t bother catching your other hand, instead, he allows you to repeatedly jab at his chest. It hurts, but he can handle it. Just like he can handle the words you’re saying.

“So, you know what? I decided that enough was enough!” you continue, your index finger pressing wildly into the hard planes of his chest. “I wasn’t going to wait around, I wasn’t going to pretend, I was going to move on! And… and I was going to!”

He tilts his head, his amethyst eyes growing fuzzy as he looks down at you. “Was going to?”

You huff, eyes narrowing as you jab your finger into his chest for a final time before turning away from him. “Well, I’m not exactly going on a date anymore, am I?”

Caleb nods, though you can’t see it. He leans against the doorframe, his gaze tracing your silhouette through the soaked fabric of your dress. Sighing, he straightens off the wall, but before he can turn away, you spin around to face him.

“And you know what else?” you huff. “You know the solution to this problem just as well as I do.”

He nods his head with a single jerk of his chin, beckoning you to continue. “Yeah? What’s that?”

You step closer, and for the final time, you stab your finger into his pec. “You need to grow a pair.”

Inhaling deeply, all he can do is smile. It infuriates you and he knows it, but he just can’t help himself. He takes both of your wrists and tugs you forward until your chest presses against his own, one of his hands coming up to cup your cheek.

You’re slowly simmering down, the heat of your outburst dissipating as your skin cooled. With your eyebrows still furrowed, all you can do is look up at him, daring him to speak. To do anything.

“Are you still mad at me?” he asks, brushing a thumb over your bottom lip.

Swallowing thickly, you nod. “A little.”

He slowly nods his head, his fingers curving along your jaw before he cups your chin in between his thumb and forefinger. “Is there anything I can do to help with that?”

You can feel his breath fan along your lips, cool and minty and just about everything you could have ever fantasized about on your own. You part your lips to reply, but this time, Caleb is the one who beats you to it.

“We’re making puddles all over the floor, you know.”

Glancing down, you see the truth in his words. The pool water dripped from your respective clothing and gathered around the two of you, making a wry smile find your lips.

“Oh,” you breathe, “I didn’t even notice.”

“I like to think I’m pretty observant when it comes to you,” he murmurs, smoothing his free hand along your side until it grasps onto the fabric of your dress. “Need some help with this?”

You look up, meeting his gaze once more. “With… with what?”

“Well,” he drawls, his fingertips brushing along your outer thigh as he slowly drags the fabric upward. His movements are hesitant and cautious, his eyes flickering between each of yours. “You’re wet. I’m wet. Maybe we can… help each other dry off.”

Your eyelids falter as they flit between his, your gaze instinctively falling to the plush curve of his bottom lip. “Okay,” you murmur.

A smile tugs at his mouth. “Okay. Arms up.”

Slowly, you lift your arms above your head. His hands work together to slowly push the fabric of your dress up and over your head, letting it slip onto the floor with a wet plop.

His breath is nearly torn from his lungs the moment he sees your bare skin, so beautiful and soft and made to be his. Hesitantly, his fingertips trace the curve of your hips with a sense of reverence.

“Do you need help too?” you ask, your voice breathy from the restrained sense of need that has come over you.

Pausing his exploration of your bare skin, Caleb finds himself nodding, almost immediately lifting his arms over his head. “Please.”

And now, you take the opportunity to do the same. Slowly, you peel his shirt up and over his head, tossing it aimlessly into the laundry hamper near the door. Your gaze traces over the defining lines of his abdomen, your touch doing the same as it trails southward.

His lower stomach tenses up as your fingers brush against the hem of his jeans. He can’t help the way his eyes flutter shut, the way a touch so simple can nearly bring him to his knees. Breathing shakily, he leans down to rest his forehead on yours.

“Careful,” he breathes in warning, his voice taking on a raspy tone.

You almost startle at the unfamiliarity of his voice, though you push your hesitation aside as your thumb brushes over the button of his pants. “But… these are wet too.”

A huff of air leaves his mouth, the sound something between a low laugh and a groan. He forces his eyes open, his stare meeting your own. “Trying to get me naked before our first kiss? I have to say, you’re full of surprises.”

Faltering, your hands fall away from his pants. “You’re right, I… I’m—”

Caleb can’t help but chuckle, taking a hold of your hands to bring them right back to where they were before. This time, he guides your fingers through the motion of unbuttoning his pants. “Kidding,” he whispers against your lips. “Besides… we’re good at multitasking, yeah?”

You’re nodding before you can truly process his words. “Yeah.”

His lips crash onto yours with a groan that omits from deep within, the button of his jeans finally popping open from your ministry. The zipper went next, tugged down along with the fabric entirety until he was left in only his boxers.

His hands roam your curves greedily, eating up every inch of skin that he has deprived himself of for far too long. Your waist, your hips, your thighs—he needs to feel you in any way possible.

And you return his eagerness so well, wrapping your arms around his neck as you draw him in even closer. His hands worked quickly, hoisting you up until your legs wrapped around his waist as he walked the both of you over to your bed.

Laying you down on the mattress, he takes the initiative to deepen the kiss, his tongue swiping along your bottom lip to gain access that you readily give him. He can’t help but moan into your mouth, the sweet taste of your tongue tangling with his own forcing his brain to short circuit in a way he’s never experienced before.

You kissed him like there was no tomorrow, and he was loving every second of it. Your hands fisted into his hair while your lips moved in tandem with his, a soft whimper leaving your mouth as his hands gave your hips a firm squeeze.

His lips trail down your jaw, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your neck and the curve of your shoulder as he uses his grip on your hips to pull you flush against him. A gasp leaves you at the feeling of his erection pressing against your clothes sex, the friction so delicious that it makes butterflies erupt in your stomach.

Caleb is so far gone, kissing his way along your arms, your neck, your sternum, all up until he reaches the valley of your breasts. He wastes very little time there, licking a trail to your nipple before sucking the peak into his mouth. His other hand palms at your other breast, kneading the soft flesh in his palm.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes against your skin, his hips rocking forward as he switches sides, latching onto your neglected breast and giving it a hard suck. “So beautiful.”

His descent continues as he mouths at the soft skin of your belly, your hips, your inner thighs. His eyes depart from yours as they settle onto the fabric covering your cunt, and a grin stretches across his face. Polka dots.

You scoff, softly shoving his shoulder. “Don’t even say it.”

Chuckling, he leans in to press a kiss on the damp patch of fabric. “Wasn’t gonna say anything, baby.”

His fingers hook beneath the waistband of your panties, tugging them down your legs and tossing them aimlessly. His lips press feverish kisses to your ankles, your calves, your inner thighs, and eventually, the mound of your pussy.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he whispers into your heat, hiking your legs up and over his shoulders and he pulls your sex closer to his mouth. “So damn worth it.”

A cry leaves you as his tongue delves in deep between your legs, his eyes slipping shut as he lets out an unabashed whimper into your sex. His grip on your thighs only tightens, keeping your legs spread apart as they threaten to press in on his head.

He wouldn’t have that. He couldn’t. He needed to have you in the way that he’s dreamt of for so long, in the way that he’s thought of time and time again as he fucked his own fist to the thought of you. It was filthy, it was lewd, but it was honest.

You tasted better than he could have ever imagined, his tongue eagerly lapping at your inner walls before his lips sealed around your puffy clit, sucking hard enough to make your back bow off the plush mattress.

The stimulation is leaving you feeling overwhelmed, your hands pushing into his hair as your trembling thighs test the strength of his grip. You whine, eyes slipping shut as your head tilts back against the pillows.

“It— it’s too much—”

“Be good,” he finds himself saying, pulling you right back to his mouth as he continues to feast on your pussy like a man starved. “You can take it, baby.” Caleb cracks open his eyes, sucking harshly onto your clit before releasing it with a wet pop. “Go on, pretty girl. Say it.”

You whine, though you hardly have the brain power to say anything else apart from what he’s asked of you. “I… I can take it,” you breathe.

He smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your sensitive pearl before nipping at it. “There you go.”

It doesn’t take much longer for your legs to begin to tremble once more, your body writhing in his grasp as he sets you any way but loose. Your hips buck up, a final resort for reprieve as he works you over the edge.

Caleb redoubled his efforts, spreading your thighs even wider. Soon, the warmth pooling in your lower stomach was far too much to bear, far more intense than anything you had ever experienced before.

“I’m… I’m coming,” you gasp out, hands gripping tightly onto his dark locks of hair.

And when you do, his flattened tongue laps at your honeyed release. He works you through your high, his movements eventually slowing down as the twitching of your hips gradually calms.

He pulls off of you with a wet pop, pressing soft kisses to your swollen clit. “You’re perfect,” he whispers, pressing another peck on your mound before he moves back up your body once more to slot his lips against yours.

You can taste yourself on his tongue, and it only spurs you on further. Your hands grasp onto his shoulders, and in one swift motion, you flip him onto his back. Caleb looks up at you with a starry-eyed expression, but when you straddle his hips and sit in his lap, he has no words of protest. None at all.

“You really are full of surprises,” he says, running his hands along the warm skin of your thighs.

Tugging him free from his boxers, he helps you remove them from his body, leaving you both entirely bare together. He sits up, his back pressing against the headboard as he tugs you closer to him.

“I need you,” he whispers, pressing a longing kiss on your stomach as you shift to straddle him once more. “Please, baby.”

You gaze down at him, your fingers brushing through his hair. “Please what?”

He leans into your touch, his hands settling onto your waist as he pulls you lower, the head of his cock pressing against your pussy. “Make yourself feel good. Please.”

Caleb’s own cheeks were flushed with a rosy hue, both from the embarrassment that his own lack of experience brought upon him and the reality of finally having the love of his life in such an intimate way. His amethyst eyes search your face, as if searching for a permission that he didn’t know how to ask for.

Dipping your head, you press a soft kiss on his lips. Simultaneously, you swivel your hips until the tip of his length catches your entrance. You slowly lower yourself, feeling the way his cock stretches you out, filling you up in a way that only he can.

He smiles at you, cupping your cheek with his hand. Brushing a thumb over your bottom lip, he kisses you gently. “You feel so good,” he whimpers into your mouth, his other hand resting on your hip as you roll your hips in a way that has his breath hitching in his throat. “So fucking perfect.”

Your movements are timid at first, consisting of a slow and meticulous rocking of your hips. His cock stuffed you full, his tip kissing the deepest points of your inner walls with ease, earning a muffled whimper from your mouth that his lips swallowed up eagerly.

Caleb’s hands grasped tightly onto your hips, helping you set a pace that had the both of you losing your mind. He leans backward, his head tilting against the headboard as it slams against the wall with each intense grind of your hips.

“Good girl, give it to me how you like it,” he breathes, eyes cracking open to watch the way you look down at him as you work yourself on his length. “Use me however you need me, baby, there you go.”

Your fingers thread into his hair, pulling him in for a longing kiss. “I… you— you feel so…” you stammer, leaning forward to rest your head on his shoulder as you lose yourself on his cock.

He nods his head in agreement, turning his head to press a kiss on your damp cheek as he gently pets your hair. “I know, I know.”

You lose yourself all together, your legs shaking as you tighten your hold on him. “Caleb!” you moan.

His hips help you the rest of the way, his grip on your hips keeping you firmly planted as he meets your movements with thrusts of his own. “I know it, baby, I’ve got you,” he pants through a smile, guiding you through a few more fleshed out grinds on his lap. “Atta girl, use those hips.”

His arms wrap around you entirely, crushing you against the hard planes of his chest as you slowly ride the both of you through your shared orgasm. In that moment, in your house, in this space that belonged to you and Caleb alone—the two of you became one.

Heavy breathing and hammering heartbeats is all that consumes the two of you for a long while, skin to skin with far too much bliss brewing in your chests for either of you to handle alone.

Huffing softly, Caleb runs a hand up your side. “You okay in there?” he asks, turning his head to pepper soft kisses along your cheek. “C’mon, I need some proof of life.”

You chuckle, shaking your head as you bury your face into the crook of his neck. “Shut up, give me a second.”

He merely smiles, wrapping his arms around your middle once more as he tucks your head beneath his chin. Thirty seconds after finishing and you’re already mean. “There’s my girl.”

Caleb’s hands smooth over the soft planes of your back, giving your hips a soft squeeze as he revels in the feeling of your heartbeat drumming against his own. He can’t help himself from pressing a few kisses on the top of your head, his arms opting to wrap even tighter around you.

“I love—” he cuts himself off, eyes widening dazedly. Would that be too much? A confession of his undying love not long after ruining your date and making love with you for the first time? After a stretch of awkward silence, he kisses your head once more. “I love… cuddling with you. You’re so soft.”

You smile, nuzzling even closer to his chest, your nose brushing against skin. “Mm, I love you too, Caleb.”

His eyes widened, though he knows that communicating his confusion is futile. You knew him so well, too well.

“You do?” he whispers, turning his head just enough to look down at you.

In response to that, you nod. “Mm-hmm. I’ll love you even more if you tell me that you didn’t cancel those dinner reservations.”

Caleb smiles, running a hand over your hair. As if he’d given up his last ditch effort to take you out. “You know I didn’t.”

𝑛𝘰𝘵𝑒. rip zayne i still love you king!!! also i actually don’t really know how to write for caleb… so… i hope this didn’t suck! this is the only fic that managed to break my intense writer’s block that i’ve had for the past two months. reblog/comment if you enjoyed, i appreciate you reading so much <3

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ✧ masterlist | request

[everlastingserenitys]

SMILE FOR THE PICTURE <3

summ. you asked the best photographer in your school to help take pictures of you for your project, not take a video of you guys doing it!

pairing. Caleb x f!reader cw. nerd!caleb, p in v, fingering, masturbation, recording during sex, creampie, dirty thoughts, kissing, handjob, college au, petnames, dirty talk, kitchen sex, 3.7k wc (wtf omg) a/n. hello yes this is kiindaa based off this post ... I just added a tiny switch up hehe

“Is that all you need help with?” Caleb asked, his eyes darting around the library and back at you.

“Please Caleb?”

A tired sigh escaped his lips, he pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head in disbelief, “So what you’re saying is that you want me to take pictures of you for your project?”

You nod.

“I don’t believe it, why do you need me?”

An annoyed sigh escaped your lips and you leaned in closer, being just centimeters away from his face.

“I heard you’re the best photographer and editor, so I need someone to help me so I can pass the class… so, please, just help me this one time?”

Caleb lightly rolled his eyes and stared at you before agreeing, “fine I’ll do it—but I’ll need something in return.”

“I’ll give you anything, Alright? I’ll email you some of my photos and then we can move on from there.” You say, sliding over a scrap piece of paper with your email displayed on it and walked off.

You didn’t even let him speak the second you skipped away from him and headed over to your little friends, giggling and loudly walking yourself out the library, practically announcing to everyone that you’re leaving.

Caleb glared at your figure already leaving the library and sighed against his seat, at least he’ll have something to do for the night.

As the day progressed Caleb was already in his dorm, studying for his other subjects. It was late in the evening and he had totally forgotten about the little deal you made with him, until he heard a crackle sound beneath him.

An exasperated sigh left his lips and he reached in his pocket for the tiny piece of paper with your email on it, he rested it in front of him as his fingers instinctively started typing away on his laptop.

Without realizing or reading over what he had written, the email had already been sent to you. Caleb panicked and tried to find out how to edit, or even delete to send it again, but when nothing was popping up he closed his laptop and attempted to distract himself before you responded.

A few minutes passed and a ding blared through Caleb's laptop. A shaky sigh escaped his lips before he carefully opened up his laptop and checked his emails. He refreshed countless times until, finally your response loaded up.

Caleb read the reply out loud and hovered his cursor over the pdf files of multiple photos you sent, “‘hey these are the photos’, yada yada…mmh alright.” After a second of hesitating he finally brought the courage to click on the photos.

And they were…beautiful.

Caleb was starstruck. He scrolled through the five photos you sent and inspected every single one, eyeing every perfect curve, your pretty eyes, practically just admiring you.

He never really talked to you, mainly because he thought you wouldn't talk to him if he tried talking to you first, but when you stepped up and spoke to him first, Caleb felt like it had to be a prank. Whether it was for the project or not, he didn't mind it, in fact, he’d probably want to work with you again, if he could.

He exited out of the pictures, getting ready to write his reply when he noticed you sent something else. Only captioning the file with ‘and a little surprise for you <3 you look like you’d be into this so i hope this gives you a little motivation !!’

Curious, Caleb clicked on the file without thinking and immediately regretted it. Well, was it regret? Definitely not. Caleb’s perverted eyes scanned at every part of the scandalous photo you sent. He brought his shaky hands to his mouse and instinctively started zooming in on every part.

“Damn it.” he murmured, squirming around his chair as he tried to hold himself back from touching himself, even though the last time he actually masturbated to someone was years before his third year in college, he didn't want to just break the streak when he knows damn well you will leave him once this project was over.

But one time wouldn't hurt, right? I mean, he was practically aching down there.

Caleb brought his fingers to the waistband of his shorts and played with it as he imagined different dirty scenarios with you. He eventually slid his fingers under his shorts, grabbing onto his hard, searing length, wrapping his cold fingers around it. He pumped his fist in a quick motion, staring at your picture through his already teary eyes, captivating every pixel he could see through his blurry vision.

“Ah-shit..” he whined, bucking his hips forward and soon brought his other hand to his cock, pretending it was yours. That thought just turned him on even more and he was practically trying everything to hold himself back from coming too early.

He glanced back at the picture, his glasses were slightly slipping off his nose but he didnt care. He yanked his head back, his pace going even quicker on himself and he was so, soo, clo–

“Fuck..”

Spurs of white pellucid mixture dripped out of Caleb, most of it getting on his desk and papers all over the desk. He breathed heavily as his violet eyes stared into in the ceiling, rethinking his fucking choices.

A few minutes passed and Caleb took a cold shower and eventually cleaned up himself, and the desk. He sat back on desk, reopening his laptop and quickly went to reply to your email. God, he was worried how he was going to face you the next day.

His fingers hovered over the light keys illuminating through his laptop, a response was stuck somewhere in the back of his head but he couldn't bring it back to him. He pondered for a moment, his mind spiraling with many, many thoughts, none of them were recollecting what he was going to say.

Caleb let out an annoyed groan and hit his head on his desk repeatedly. He’ll just respond tomorrow, when his mind was cleared out.

The next day after his classes were over, Caleb headed to the library to study for a bit. He put his ear buds in and started reading his book. But as he was too distracted by the gibberish of numbers and letters that somehow keeps him captivated the whole time he's studying, he didn't notice a presence in front of him.

A minute passed, and he still didn't notice. That was until someone yanked his earbuds off which caused Caleb to flinch dramatically. He looked up to see who disturbed his peace, about to stand up for himself until he realized it was you.

“What..”

“Why’d you not respond last night?”

Caleb's face flushed in a light pink tone, but he remained calm, a small smirk rested on his lips as he was trying to think of an excuse on the spot. He couldn't just tell you that he got off at the seductive picture you totally sent to rile him up with.

“I was too tired to, sorry. But I saw everything you sent.”

“You did?” you grin, leaning in closer as you stared into his eyes.

“Mhm, everything.”

“Did you like the surprise picture?” you said, a hint of teasing laced in your voice as you watched for Caleb's reaction. He was trying to act tough so badly, but you noticed how difficult it was for him to keep up the tough act and that just made you want to push his limits even further.

“Caleb?” you whisper.

Caleb’s Adam's apple bobbed up and down the second you whispered his name and he avoided your gaze, “..yeah.” he mumbled, his voice dropping five octaves deeper. You smile and pull away from him, looking down at him before shrugging.

“If you read the email–which I doubt you did–I told you to come over to my place tonight to take some practice pictures.”

“Practice? Wait, when did you even say that?” Caleb frantically started typing on his computer and pulled out the email. Embarrassment washed through his whole face when he read the first email which he totally ignored.

“I see…”

“Uh huh, the pictures I sent you last night were for reference, you know? How you’re going to take them and etcetera.” you fan your hands at him and Caleb stared at you for a good minute before nodding and closing his laptop, notebook, everything lying on the desk.

“Why’re you packing up right now?”

“Well? Why don’t we start early? I have studying to do and I don't want to spend the whole night taking pictures of you.”

You open your mouth, hesitant to say something but when no words could get out, you zipped your lips shut and turned around, walking yourself out of the library. You took small glances to see if Caleb was actually following you, when you noticed he was just a few meters away, you nodded to yourself and continued to walk to your place.

A ten minute walk later both you and Caleb end up at the front door of your apartment. You grab the keys from your purse and turn around, looking at Caleb while the key is shoved deep in the keyhole.

“Wait here, and do you have your camera?”

Caleb nods and rests his shoulder against the wall next to him. You nod and head inside your place. Caleb assumed you were cleaning it up so he leaned back and patiently waited as the sounds of shuffling and stuff moving around were getting louder and louder by the second.

A few minutes pass and you open the door letting Caleb in. Caleb looked around your whole place, his eyes darting on every piece of furniture that was definitely your style, and soon averting his gaze to the large window that showed off the view from outside.

It was already close to sunset and the lighting looked amazing to take pictures with. Caleb brought out his camera and tried turning it on when his worst nightmare happened.

“Dead?”

“Dead.”

A minute of silence echoed through the room, you and Caleb looked at each other before awkwardly chuckling at each other.

“I have a charger, be right back.” you say.

Caleb nodded and sat against your kitchen counter, fidgeting the camera around his fingers before you came back and slid the charger to him. He nodded in appreciation and quickly went to put his camera to charge.

“What should we do now?” Caleb asked, glancing at you then back at his camera.

You ponder for a moment then an idea lights up in your head, “Come, i’ll show you more of my photos so you can get an idea on what to do.” you unwillingly grab onto Caleb's wrist and drag him to your bedroom.

Which looked fairly normal, a little basic. Just a desk consisting of two monitors lying on it, a bookshelf, and your bed. You drag Caleb to your desk and you plop on the chair, unlocking your monitor in a quick movement and pulling out your camera roll.

“Some pictures may be weird so don't mind it, okay?”

Caleb nodded and glued his eyes to your monitor.

As the time went on and you were showing dozens upon dozens of photos to him, that's when your camera roll started to look a little too explicit and Caleb swore you were doing it on purpose.

“Oh whoops!” you giggle, letting Caleb quickly look at the explicit pictures of you, and at this point he wasn’t complaining. He wasn’t going to show that he liked it, but something else was about to shatter him from this nonchalant persona.

He watched you scroll through the pictures as his bottom half felt numb. Caleb looked at the bottom of the camera roll and noticed you were almost at the end of it, just a few more pictures to go and he could go to the bathroom to fix the problem down there.

When you finally showed the last picture Caleb nodded and enthusiastically told you how he knew exactly what he was doing and started backing away from your desk. You raise an eyebrow and get up from your seat walking behind him.

“Where's the bathroom?” Caleb asked, looking left and right at the two different hallways that could lead to anywhere. You peered your head up and brushed past him, but mistakenly stumbled over his shoelace and grabbed onto his thigh to catch yourself.

“Cal–uh..”

Your eyes widened and you looked up at Caleb's flushed look and down to your hand which was not on his thigh.

“Don’t move, please…” he mumbled, covering half his face with his hand as he carefully stepped back, but he was too much in a haze to even focus. He tripped on himself and stumbled against you again, making your hand practically rub on his boner.

“Shit…”

“You said you wanted something in return, why don’t I give you the favor right now and then you could take my pictures, how’s that?” you say, looking up at caleb who was still flushed bright red at the situation happening at the moment.

“I- fine..” he nodded and you smiled, sliding your fingers under his pants, slowly pulling them down and stare at his leaking bulge imprinting his boxers. Eventually, you pull his boxers down and let his cock spring out and, Fuck.

You wrap your fingers around his length and pump your fist in a slow, rhythmic movement, letting Caleb savour the time. Loud whines filled the room and you continued the same pace as you watched his reaction.

“Mo–ngh”

“Hmm?”

“More..” he breathed, Caleb's fingers slid in your hair and he pulled your head up so you could look at him. “Please.”

You smirk and fasten the pace on him, after one hand starts getting tired, you bring your other one and do the same movements to his cock. Both your hands were on his hard, sticky length. With one hand circling around the tip and the other pumping his full length Caleb was practically moaning like a virgin.

You slick your thumb on his tip and leaned in closer, about to make your mouth get put to use but Caleb stopped you and shook his head, “not yet..,‘m close” he groaned, his voice echoed through the room which sent shivers down your spine.

“You’re close? Then why don’t you hold it in.” you challenge, pulling your hands away from his cock and staring up at caleb who looked like he was going to die without the feeling of your hands on his.

“Hold it in, can you do that?” you whisper, getting up from your knees and leaned in closer, your hot breath ghosted against Caleb's skin. But Caleb couldnt even spit out any words, his eyes flicker on yours and before you could tease him further he crashed his lips on yours.

Caught off guard, you reciprocate the kiss and push him further against the wall, grabbing onto the sides of his face as you push yourself closer against him. Your bodies were practically molded together and Caleb lightly bit on your lip when he felt you grinding yourself against him.

His fingers made their way to your waist and soon snaked down to your pants, toying with the edges of it before pulling them down. His fingers slid lower on your body and soon reached your soaking, dripping cunt.

He slid a finger inside you and stroked a slow, deliberate pattern, stimulating and stretching you out before he put his cock inside you. He was holding himself back so bad but he lets the last drops of self control drip down him before he rams his cock inside you.

“Let me…” Caleb whispered, pulling his fingers out of you and stared at the mess coated on his fingers. You grunt and press yourself against him, he takes it as an indication that he can put himself inside you and without thinking he does it right away.

“urgh w-wait–” before you could tell Caleb to go to your bed or another room he lifted you up and pressed his tip against your soaking entrance, slowly pushing himself inside. He wasn't even a quarter in and you felt like you were full, you cling onto him as he lifts your body up and down on his cock.

“K-kitchen” you moan, burying your head on his shoulder. Caleb nods and effortlessly walks towards the kitchen with half his length inside you. You felt him press you against the counter and slightly pull himself away so he could see your face.

Caleb stared at you with love and lust filled in his eyes, his glasses were barely on him, his eyes were teary, and fuck he still looked like a beauty. You yanked your head back when you felt him sink deeper inside you, his tip practically hitting every right spot, and you felt like you were in heaven.

You wink your eyes open and get used to your surroundings again and notice the camera was still charging next to you. Caleb watched your every move as you picked up the camera and flicked it on. It beeped for a moment and flashed unlocked.

When the camera was on you smiled and glanced at Caleb who was too much in a daze to know what you were doing and angle the camera directly at his beautiful face. You coo his name and he averted his gaze to the camera that was in your hands.

“Smile.” you manage to get out and notice Caleb smirk before you flash a picture. Your eyes widened as you clicked the picture and he looked heavenly. Caleb chuckled as he continued to ram himself in and out of you, using one of his hands to grab the camera.

“Let me see.” he murmured, resting his fingers on yours which were still on the camera. You carefully gave him the camera and he examined the photo, a menacing chuckle escaped his lips and he shook his head, “don’t I look great?” he chuckled.

“Mhm”

“Yeah?”

You nod again and Caleb angled the camera to you, his hands, which were once shaky weren't shaky anymore and he looked at you before looking back into the camera screen.

“Smile for the picture.”

Before you could let out a smile you felt Caleb shove his full length deep, deep inside you. A wave of shock went through you and you heard the camera shutter when you noticed he took a picture of an expression you made that was most definitely not a smile.

“That’s a good–mmph e-expression! Shit, do it again.” he whined, continuing to ram himself deep inside you, the impact of his hard tip abusing your cervix sent you to a spiral, you stared at Caleb through teary eyes and shook your head.

“Come on, baby.” he begged, still having the camera aimed at you. A loud moan escapes your lips and you roll your hips against Caleb’s. Caleb let out a low whistle and lowered the camera to the view of his cock buried balls deep inside you.

“Look at t-that..” he chuckled, slowing the pace down. He was already close to release and he didn't want to pull away. Caleb kept the camera at the same angle it was at before and brought his other hand to your stretched out cunt, placing his thumb against the clit as he stretched it out and watched the mess pool out of you.

“You’re recording? A-and you-?!” you couldn't even get any more words out. Caleb nodded and apologized repeatedly.

“I'm sorry.. It was on a-accident” he coughed, shaking the camera around as he slowly started pulling himself out of you. The sounds of the slick seeping out of you filled the room and it just turned Caleb on even more, when he was just almost the tip out of you, Caleb angled the camera from your lower half to your face and thrusted himself back into you.

His pace was quick and his moans grew louder at every thrust he gave. Caleb was practically over the moon and the feeling was just something he wished to experience again. Caleb placed the camera down on the counter and aimed it where you both were in frame.

“Can you handle one more–y-yes? Or no?” he asked, leaning in closer to your face, his breath tickling on your warm skin, you nod and Caleb chuckled, lifting your legs over his shoulders and thrusted himself one more time.

“That's good, might as well go until the camera dies again, should we, baby?”

You didn't know how many rounds you both did, you were almost going to pass out midway through sex but Caleb somehow calmed you down and you stayed awake, didn’t pass out once no matter how many times he filled you up, it was like he was magic.

Both you and Caleb just finished getting cleaned up and you both were back at the kitchen. He held onto his camera as he went through the multiple photos and videos he took, the longest video being about an hour and a half long, which resulted in the camera dying just the second before you were going to cum.

Caleb smirked as he looked through the photos and one photo caught him by surprise, he inspected the photo and flipped the camera towards you. “You look good in this.” he said, as a death piercing gaze was locked on you.

“I’m practically clothless in that, what's so special about it?”

“You can keep it for your album of those types of photos…” he shrugged, turning the camera back towards him and looking at the photo again. You shrug and that's when you realized.

“We haven't taken my practice pictures yet!”

“Well, can you still do it, or should I come back tomorrow?” Caleb grinned, stepping towards you and stared into your eyes with a teasing look.

“Let's get it over with, today.”

Caleb frowned, “Okay one second,” He said, angling the camera at you again.

“Smile.”

part 2 of fly into your heart -> next work

[the-most-humble-blog]

🛐 SHOUT OUT TO THE HOBBITS, YO

You think Hobbits were just cute?

Just background filler?

Just middle-earthy comic relief?

No.

Hobbits were the unsanctioned, untraceable, unkillable black-ops death units of Middle Earth. They didn’t flex. They didn’t brag. They didn’t even need boots.

They just showed up where legends got slaughtered and survived anyway.

🧠 Let’s Be Blunt:

If these dudes got sent after you? It wouldn’t matter if you were hiding in Putin’s panic room, in the secret compartment behind the third bookshelf, wearing a Kevlar onesie, praying to whatever gods you had left—

They would still find your stupid body draped over the tub like a jackass.

🩸 HOW I KNOW?

They ripped the most expensive piece of jewelry straight off a literal immortal super-zombie (Gollum) —who, mind you— was spitting some of the coldest nihilistic bars in literary history off the dome, in the dark, while dying of radiation poisoning, and still trying to kill them anyway.

🔥 Plus:

They bodied haters at every turn.

They carried the seduction equivalent of Satan’s engagement ring around their necks without folding.

Never wore shoes — because soft ground and sharp rocks weren’t real enough threats to register.

Didn’t even want your girl — because they had a real one waiting back home, making second breakfasts and setting tables for men who don’t break under temptation.

🛡️ And just for bonus brutality?

They didn't just topple armies. They didn’t just smoke an earthbound demon and his cultists.

They made it back in time for fourth breakfast.

🧠 But Here’s the Hardest Bar Nobody Talks About:

The literal President of Earth (Aragorn — son of Arathorn, King of Men, crown-wearer, sword-lord) the biggest swinging dick in all of human history did not puff his chest at them. Did not treat them like subjects. Did not treat them like side characters.

He kneeled.

He fucking trembled, knelt, and demanded that anyone who even thought about disrespecting them drop to their knees in submission and shame. Right there. In front of the goddamn world.

🩸 TL;DR

Hobbits were quiet Apex Predators.

Hobbits were Super-Delta-Navy-SEAL-Green-Berets of spiritual warfare.

Hobbits weren’t just survivors.

Hobbits were the grim reapers of the impossible.

And they did it:

With no boots.

With no ego.

With no TikTok motivational speeches.

While still making it home in time for fourth fucking breakfast.

🍻 FINAL WORD:

Raise your glass.

Shout out to Hobbits, yo.

The only operatives in recorded mythic history who could body Satan, body death, body temptation, body despair, and body history itself—

then stroll home like it was a casual Tuesday morning run.

💣 CALL TO ACTION:

🔁 Reblog if you know loyalty and survival don’t always wear armor. 🛡️ Save this post if you respect the warriors who didn’t need glory to win the war. 🔥 Send this to the one who still thinks size, flash, or fame means anything in the real arena. ⚡ Bookmark this for the day you realize the small, quiet ones are the ones you should fear most.

Or simply 🔁Reblog to keep my signal to mankind going strong.

⚖️ LEGAL DISCLAIMER: This post is Blacksite Literature™, mythological elevation engineering, cadence-driven survival psychology, and literary psychological warfare protected under the charter of the unbowed.

If you're offended: Your ancestors knelt too easily.

🛡️ BLACKSITE POST STATUS: COMPLETE. 🩸 FULL NEUROCHEMICAL MYTHIC PAYLOAD READY FOR DETONATION.

[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

[demie90s]

Can you write a reader x UConn team and reader has like no filter like they could be in the most serious moment and reader would say something out of pocket

Why she got a mic?

UConn WBB Team x Fem!Reader

MASTERLIST | MORE

Summary: Me. The team’s walking HR violation. No matter the mood, you will say something that has the whole team side-eyeing, laughing, or questioning reality.

Word Count: ~ 0.5k

Genre: Comedy, Team Fluff, Mild Crack

Warnings: Cussing, chaos, suggestiveness, mentions of thirst, reader being out of pocket at all times

The mic wasn’t even all the way clipped to your jersey before you started talking.

“So like…y’all gon’ feed us after this right? ‘Cause I don’t wanna sound ungrateful but that little fruit tray y’all gave us pregame made me feel like a parrot.”

You were dead serious. Meanwhile, the rest of the UConn team was already doing synchronized neck turns to Geno, who stared ahead like maybe if he focused hard enough he could astral project into retirement.

The reporter chuckled awkwardly. “Right, well—uh—let’s talk about the game. You had a breakout performance in the third quarter. What clicked?”

You nodded solemnly. “I had to pee real bad so I was tryna hurry up and get off the court. Y’all saw me running? That was urgency. It’s called motivation.”

Laughter broke out across the room. Aubrey dropped her head into her hands. Nika was crying silently.

Someone else raised their hand—braver than most.

“You guys really shut down USC’s offense tonight. What went into that defensive game plan?”

You tilted your head. “I mean, yeah. I saw that. USC good and all…but not as good as us so like…I don’t really care. Sorry.”

Caroline leaned in with a PR-smile. “What she means is we watched a lot of film and trusted each other—”

“No,” you cut in. “That’s not what I meant. I said what I said.”

The reporter blinked. “A-And uh—Aubrey, you had a great night on the boards…”

You slouched in your chair. “Yeah, and yet still no date.”

Aubrey snapped her head toward you. “Yo—”

“I told her, I said, ‘If God see fit and we win tonight, you gon’ say yes’—and we did. We won. And she still didn’t say yes. So she fake but that’s between her and the Lord.”

KK was wheezing. “You need help.”

You turned to her calmly. “Nah I need a girlfriend. Two different things.”

The reporter next to the stage was beet red now, trying not to laugh into their notes. “Okay, uh…next question—what was going through your mind during that final play?”

You crossed one leg over the other like this was Oprah. “I was thinking, if the world ended right then, we’d all go with it, so I might as well go out with a win. That’s real.”

Geno rubbed his temples. “Jesus Christ.”

You leaned into the mic again, like a closing statement. “Thank you. And please remember to feed athletes. We is hungry.”

The PR rep jumped in so fast her paper nearly flew off the table. “That’s it! Thanks so much, everyone!”

The moment y’all stepped backstage, Geno turned slowly.

“You know they record those, right?”

“Yeah Coach.”

“And they post them.”

“Mmhm.”

“You’re going to get us sued.”

You gave him your most sincere expression. “It’s okay. I got a lil savings.”

He looked like he aged ten years in five seconds.

Behind you, Aubrey shoved your shoulder, laughing. “Yo are you alright.”

You shrugged. “I’m just honest. And single. And hungry. Somebody gone address it.”

Just like that, you were back in the locker room, already hyping yourself up for post-game food and probably more chaos. Because filters are for water—not for you.

@letsnowtalk @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @let-zizi-yap @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey @julieluvspb @non3ofurbusiness @kcannon-1436-blog @kaliblazin @liloandstitchstan @footy-lover264 @yorubagirlsworld @daffodil-darlings @h4untedghOul @followthesvn @hibiscusblu @sevikasleftbicep @swiftie4evr @babyphatbrat @sivensblog @beeop223 @huntedghOul @tpwkrosalinda @lightsgore @em-nems @salemsuccss @villain-ryuk @ihrtsarahstrOng @liyahh037 @sillystarv @somedetailsinthefabric @essence-134340 @mochelisgf @soph1asticated @heheievidbri @unvswrld @breezybellab @planet-ghoulborne @art-ofmusic @toorealrai

[cinnxmxngxrl]

Can you please make a fic about Joel giving birthday sex? (My birthday is coming up lmao) I love your fics all of them are such good reads!!

“Last Present”

Jackson!Joel x f!Reader

Joel’s Masterlist

Summary: It’s your birthday and Joel saved the best gift for the end of the night.

WC: 3.8k

Warning/Tags: smut, minors DNI, unprotected piv, oral (f!receiving), dirty talk, fingering, thigh riding, use of daddy, pussy pronouns, finger licking, unspecified age gap, established relationship

It was late by the time the party fizzled out.

You’ve never liked celebrating your birthday. Most of the memories from before the outbreak are hazy at best, just fleeting flashes of bouncing castles, sticky fingers, and cakes with sweet pink buttercream. You were too little to hold onto much more. And everything after that… it just hurt. Your birthday stopped being a celebration and started feeling more like a reminder, of everyone you’d lost, of how much the world had taken from you.

Another year alive didn’t feel like a motive to celebrate. It felt like surviving—just barely.

But that was before Jackson and before Joel. Before warm meals shared around a crowded table, before morning light through real curtains, before the sound of kids laughing in the distance like the world hadn’t ended. You’ve started to find joy in living again, not just surviving, but living.

In the calm of the town you’ve found people you love, and people who loved you back. A life that’s, somehow, relatively normal.

The lights inside your house were low, the scent of sugar and smoke still hanging in the air from your cake—and from the candles Joel had tried to light too fast. You’d laughed watching him squint down at the matchbook, muttering low “goddamn thing,” before finally cupping his hand over the flame like he was shielding it from a battlefield instead of a soft spring breeze from the open windows.

It was a small gathering, just a handful of your friends from town, Tommy and Maria, and Ellie. Joel stayed quiet at first, the way he always did in a crowd, hovering just behind you with a cup of whiskey in that big hand of his, letting you be the center of attention as you opened the presents from your friends. But every now and then, he’d rest his hand on your back, like he needed to remind himself you were still close. Still his. Not in a jealous kind of way, but in a way of proudly saying "Have you seen her? Yeah, this is my girl."

Now the house was quiet and warm, only iluminated by one lamp still on in the corner. You leaned against the kitchen counter, pulling off your boots while Joel lingered by the couch, watching you with that unreadable look of his, something between awe and want.

“Nice party,” he said after a beat.

You smirked. “Nice cake you got from Maria”

His mouth twitched. “Was still your favorite, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” you admitted, stepping toward him. “Pink buttercream."

Joel looked down for a second, almost shy. “You liked your presents?” he asked, voice gruff but softer than usual.

He’d carved a little wooden cat with his own hands—your cat. The one you had before the outbreak. He’d gotten every detail right: the tilt of the ears, the curve of the tail. You still had a photo of him tucked away, faded and bent, but enough to remember how much you loved him.

And then there was the record. That old rock band your dad used to blast in the car, Joel had somehow found a record, and he brought it back like a piece of your past returned from the dead.

“Love them,” you said, stopping just in front of him. Your voice dipped lower. “I love everything you give me. You always get something special for me, that means a lot."

His eyes met yours, a little darker now, lids heavy with something he wasn’t saying yet. He glanced toward the clock on the wall, then back to you.

“It’s still your birthday,” he said, voice low.

You tilted your head. “Mm-hmm.”

“And I ain’t really given you your last present yet.”

You smiled slowly. “You haven’t?”

Joel stepped closer, big hands settling on your hips. “Was thinkin’ somethin’ just f'you. Somethin’ quiet. No one else 'round.”

“Private, huh? What is this—am I gettin’ a strip show, cowboy?” you teased with a smirk.

“Not exactly a show,” he drawled, eyes glinting. “But there’ll be some strippin’ involved, alright.”

“Can’t wait.”

The groan that escaped his throat was low and rough, like it’d been caught there for hours.

“Been waitin’ all damn day,” he muttered, walking you backward toward your bedroom. “Had to watch you glow like a goddamn angel in front of everyone. Had to sit there and act normal while you smiled at every person in town like you weren’t mine.”

You reached up and touched his jaw. “I am yours. Believe me, they all know it too.”

That pulled another sound from him, something feral and full of need.

"I was hard as a goddamn brick watchin’ you in this pretty little dress o' yours."

He kissed you before either of you could say more, slow at first, like he was still letting it sink in. His hands mapped the shape of you through your dress, over your ribs and down to your waist, then lower, grabbing your ass with a rough little squeeze that made you whimper into his mouth.

He kneaded the soft flesh of your ass, warm under his big calloused hands, tugging you closer until your bodies were flush together. You could feel his thick and hardening cock pressing against your lower stomach, the slow rock of his hips making your breath hitch in anticipation.

Clothes fell away in pieces. You didn’t even make it to the bed at first. Joel pushed you against the wall beside the dresser, lips on your neck, hips grinding into yours while his hands slid over your panties to cup your dripping cunt, holding you like you were the last solid thing on earth.

“You’re so soft,” he murmured, voice raw. “So fuckin’ warm. Look at you, baby, already soaked f'me and I haven't even started yet.”

You gasped when he slid a thigh between your legs, forcing your legs apart as he ground you down onto it without mercy. His hand came up to cup your cheek, fingers gentle even as his body overwhelmed you, guiding your mouth back to his while his thigh pressed up, firm and unrelenting, until you were panting into his mouth, hips rolling with instinct. The friction made your clit throb, your panties already soaked, the damp fabric sticking to your folds as you rocked harder against him, shameless now, chasing more, needing more.

“Look at the fuckin’ mess you’re makin’ on my thigh, girl… Yeah, thassit, keep ridin’ it like that, baby.” he muttered against your ear, his breath hot and ragged, his hands gripping your hips.

“Fuck me now, Joel,” you begged, grinding your hips against his thigh, chasing friction with a desperate little whine. “Pretty please.”

His voice was low, rough, steady. “Not here. Gonna take you to bed… and give you your gift properly.”

When you finally made it to the bed, it wasn’t rushed. He took his time, laid you out like a gift, stared down at you with something like reverence.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” he promised, voice hoarse. “Gonna make this birthday one you remember every damn year.”

Joel’s hands were steady, but his eyes betrayed it, the flicker of restraint, the storm of want barely held back. He looked you over slowly, admiring the way you looked, naked, spread open just for him to see, begging him to fuck you like he was the only man in the world that could keep you satisfied, because he was.

“Been thinkin’ about this pussy all damn day,” he murmured, his fingers paused at the waistband of your pink cotton panties, already dampen with your arousal, dark with the shape of your slick.

“Take your clothes off,” you whispered, breathless. “Wanna feel you. All of you.”

He made a sound low in his throat, a growl or maybe a prayer, and then you were bare before him, the room lit soft by the lamp on the dresser. Joel pushed his shirt off, then tugged his jeans down, his cock already thick and flushed, a little curved upwards, standing heavy against his belly, the tip slick and swollen.

Your mouth parted at the sight of it, hard, already leaking. You couldn’t help it—your hands reached out on instinct, fingers curling around his cock like it belonged to you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, watching you through hooded eyes, chest heaving. “You look so pretty holdin’ it like that.”

You stroked him slow at first, long, teasing glides from base to tip, then back down, dragging your thumb over the slit to spread the precum all over the lenght, making it wetter and slippery.

“This is mine, isn’t it?” you murmured, eyes locked on his dick. “All of it. Only mine.”

“Yeah?” he muttered. "You want this cock only f'you? You little greedy thing."

“It’s already mine, Joel.” You squeezed him tighter, giving his length a harder stroke, just enough to make him shut his eyes and groan deep in response.

"Damn right it is" His voice was rough and low as he climbed over you, broad body caging yours against the mattress.

“Wanna suck it,” you said, flashing him one of those wicked little looks that always made him lose whatever was left of his mind. Your hand didn’t stop moving, wrapping around his cock, feeling it throb under your touch.

“Nnnnghh, no, baby. Not tonight,” he groaned, voice thick with barely held-back restraint.

“But Joooeel,” you whined in protest. There were few things you loved more than pleasing the man you loved with your mouth, to look up at him and watch the way he lost control for you.

"Tonight it's all about you, birthday girl," he said between groans. "Don't ya worry, you'll still get your cock."

You purred softly when you heard his words.

“That what you wanted for your birthday, huh? Cock? My cock fuckin’ you stupid?”

You grinned up at him, eyes dark with hunger. “Your cock is the best gift, Joel. Nothing else even comes close.”

He growled—actually growled—and shoved your thighs apart, not wasting a second. “Good. ‘Cause I’m gonna give it to you all night. Gonna ruin you f’anyone else.”

“Already did,” you gasped as his head found its way between your legs. “No one fucks me like you, Joel. No one.”

His lips were ghosting over your dripping cunt, breath hot against it. “Good. But I want ya wrecked fore I even get inside you.”

Then his tongue was on you, broad and slow, licking a long, deliberate stripe up your soaked slit like he was starving for it, like tasting you was the only thing keeping him alive. He groaned, low and rough in his chest, the sound vibrating straight through your core.

He didn’t rush, he savored like it was his last meal. Each lick was languid, worshipful, like he needed to memorize you with his mouth. The flat of his tongue dragged up your folds again, slower this time, and then he flicked the tip against your clit, light and fast, making your whole body jolt.

“S’fuckin’ sweet. Made f’me, huh?” he muttered, lips brushing your pussy like he was talking to it, not you.

You whimpered, your hands shooting down to tangle in his hair, thighs already trembling from the precision of his mouth. But he wasn’t done. He groaned again—hungrier, louder—before sealing his lips around your clit and sucking hard.

The tight, fast circles from his tongue had your hips bucking off the bed, chasing the feeling of his mouth, but his strong arms locked around your thighs, holding you down like you were prey caught in his jaws as he latched onto your clit, sucking on it like he meant it, like he wanted to pull your first orgasm of the night out of you with his mouth alone.

He didn’t let go for a second. Didn’t let you squirm away. Growled deep and slammed his forearm across your hips, pinning you down like he owned your body. Like you were his to devour, to break apart piece by piece.

“Hmmphf, stay still, sweetheart. Lemme eat.”

And eat you he did, like a man possessed, like you were his only salvation, like your pleasure was his religion and he was a goddamn disciple. His tongue worked your clit with obscene, relentless focus while two thick fingers pushed deep inside your hole, curling just right, dragging against that perfect spot until your vision blurred.

He groaned into you, loud and filthy, like he was the one getting off instead of you, like your soaked cunt was feeding something in him, making him whole.

“Fuckin’ mess down here, baby,” he muttered between licks. “Pussy so wet f’me. Ya hear that? Hear how you're soakin’ my face? Drippin’ for it. Goddamn.”

You were shaking and sobbing. Hands fisting the sheets, his hair, his shoulders, like you were drowning and the only thing keeping you alive was the pressure of his mouth.

“Joel—oh my god, Joel—I’m gonna—”

“Then fuckin’ do it, baby,” he growled, dragging his tongue in a firm stripe before sucking your clit hard again while the speed of his fingers increased. “Cum on my tongue. I want it—” he licked again, moaned again, fingers fucking you faster, “—wanna taste every drop. Don’t hold back. Fuckin’ break f’me.”

Your orgasm hit like a wave crashing through your ribs, curling your spine off the bed, throat torn open in a broken cry, your whole body giving in to the man between your thighs like it belonged to him.

Joel didn’t let you come down.

Not for a second.

You were still trembling, still gasping, your cunt fluttering around his two fingers as he rose up over you, his mouth slick with your release, his eyes dark and wild with hunger. He kissed you hard, filthy and deep, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

He pulled his fingers out of your cunt, soaked and dripping, and brought them straight to your mouth. They glistened in the low light as he touched your bottom lip, smearing a little of the slick across it before coaxing your mouth open, sliding his fingers in deep and slow.

“Mmm, thassit, baby… suck on ’em,” he groaned, watching you wrap your lips around him when he dragged them across your flattened tongue, before pushing in again. “Taste how fuckin’ sweet you are. You know how good that pussy tastes now, yeah? You see why I love eatin’ it so much?"

You moaned around his fingers as he pumped them in and out of your mouth, slow and firm, watching your lips stretch and your throat bob. “So fuckin' good f'me. My good little girl. Wish you could see how good you look now."

He dragged his fingers out of your mouth, a string of your saliva mixed with your slick wetting your chin. Then Joel pulled back just enough to look you in the eye as he lined up his cock

“You said my cock was the best birthday present, baby,” he rasped, voice ruined and ragged. “Then y’gonna fuckin’ get it.”

"You gonna give me cock now, daddy?" You asked him with that sweet innocent voice of yours.

He grinned, and just like that he pushed in—slow, heavy, thick—stretching your still-pulsing cunt inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt.

You moaned loud, back arching, already wrecked from his mouth and still craving more. Your body seized around him, walls fluttering from the aftershocks of your earlier orgasm, trying to suck him in even deeper, like it wasn’t enough. Like it would never be enough.

“Fuuuck,” he hissed through his teeth, buried to the base, unmoving for just a second as he tried to keep from losing it right then and there. Your heat, your slick, the way you clenched so tight around him, it was fucking obscene. "Tight little pussy is cryin' f'daddy, ain't she?"

You whined, hips already shifting, grinding down just to feel more of that stretch, more of that delicious fullness. His hands shot to your hips, fingers biting in to keep you still, his self-control hanging by a thread.

"S-she... she needed daddy." You moaned through muffled sobs.

“Daddy’s right here. Always got you.” Joel hissed through his teeth, hips starting to move, slow at first, deep and grinding, his cock dragging along every oversensitive nerve like he was rewiring your body from the inside out. “Fuckin’ takin’ it so good. Look at ya. Look how messy this pussy is f'his daddy. So full o' me and still askin' f’more.”

Your hands clawed at his back, at his shoulders, your legs wrapping tight around his waist as he started to fuck you in earnest, deep, devastating thrusts, rocking the whole bed, slapping wet sounds echoing through the room every time his balls hitted your ass. You were already soaking him, the slide of his cock brutal and perfect.

“So full, Joel—fuck—you’re so deep—”

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, voice shredded with lust. He grabbed your hand, flattened it over your lower belly. “Feel how deep I am? Feel me all the way up here? All the way in your tummy, baby. You were made to take me like this.”

Your fingers twitched under his, pressing hard to your belly where he was thickest, deepest, pushing into places no one else ever touched. You were soaked, slick dripping down your thighs, his cock gliding through the mess he’d already made of you, and still it wasn’t enough. You wanted more. Needed more.

“You’re mine. Say it.”

“Yours,” you gasped, head thrown back.

He snapped his hips hard, punching a moan from your chest.

“Again. Louder.”

“Yours, Joel—fuck, all yours—”

He growled like an animal, pulling your hips up off the bed to fuck into you even deeper, faster, cruel and possessive and so goddamn good.

“That’s right. Birthday girl’s gonna cum all over this cock. Not stoppin’ ‘til you’re ruined.”

You were shaking and sobbing in pleasure, hands scrabbling at his arms like you couldn’t decide whether to hold him tighter or push him away.

“You’re cryin’ for it, fuck—look at you,” he growled, snapping his hips up suddenly. The slap of skin echoed in the room. Your body jolted, mouth falling open in a soundless moan. “So full you’re gonna lose your mind. My perfect fuckin’ girl.”

He could feel you getting close already, feel the way your whole body tightened under him, your cunt gripping him like it didn’t want to let go, dragging him deeper, begging him to fill you.

“You gonna cum f’me again, baby?” Joel grunted, pounding into you with thick, hungry thrusts. “Gonna make a fuckin’ mess on daddy’s cock, huh? Gonna soak me like a good girl?”

You were incoherent—moaning, babbling, sobbing out pieces of his name as you held on, your nails digging into his shoulders, your legs trembling around his waist.

“Yeah, thassit,” Joel growled, his voice rough and feral. “So fuckin’ tight—squeezin’ me like you’re tryin’ to milk every drop.”

You were gone. Wrecked. All you could do was cling to him, breath catching, mouth open in a shattered moan. “J-Joel—fuck—I can’t—”

“You can,” he snarled against your neck, teeth grazing your skin. “You’re gonna cum again, baby. You’re gonna soak my fuckin’ cock, just like I taught ya. That’s it. C’mon, birthday girl—give it to me. Lemme feel it.”

And you did. You came with a scream, arching off the bed, whole body locking up as your orgasm hit hard and fast, your cunt spasming around him, milking him.

Joel watched with pride as your body convulsed with your climax. He held his breath, counting to twenty, fighting to keep himself from cumming already. He wanted to make it last, make it all about you. After all, it was your birthday present.

You struggled to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly. “Let me ride you,” you murmured, voice thick with desire.

“That right, baby? Wanna fuck yourself dumb on my cock?” Joel growled, pulling out of you and rolling onto the bed, his head resting against the headboard. “C’mere and sit down.”

You climbed over his body, straddling him, your hands sliding over his cock, guiding it to your entrance. Slowly, you sank down onto him.

“Nngggh, fuck, baby,” he gasped.

“Oh, Joel,” you whispered, lost in the heat between you.

You sat down on him until he bottomed out, and without wasting another second, you started bouncing on him, letting your body ride every inch of him, up and down, slow at first, then faster.

“Mmm, look at you ridin’ this cock like you own it,” Joel moaned, eyes fixed on the way your tits bounced with every movement, on your flushed pink cheeks, on the tears on the corner of your eyes. “Enjoyin’ your birthday gift, baby?”

“S-so much, Joel,” you gasped, not stopping for a second, your hands sliding to his chest for support as you kept riding him until your legs trembled, almost giving out.

Joel’s hands found your jiggling tits, kneading the soft flesh, fingers rolling and pinching your nipples until you gasped and sobbed from the sharp pleasure.

“Fuck… fuck—shit, gonna make me cum,” he groaned, sliding his hands down to your hips, gripping them tightly as he helped you grind harder, pushing you deeper onto him.

“Fill me, Joel. I’ll be your good little girl. I’ll take every fucking drop.” You whimpered.

Joel snapped, all that restrained pleasure he’d been holding back so he wouldn’t cum too soon now exploded. His hips jerked up, thrusting deep and violently into you, pounding with raw intensity that left no room for anything else but the passionate way he was fucking you with each slam.

“Fuuuuck, I’m—fuck, I’m cummin’—”

His cock twitched deep inside you, spilling everything he had, thick and hot, flooding you full as his head fell back.

“Take it,” he growled through gritted teeth, body trembling with the force of it. “Fuckin’ take it, baby. So good—so fuckin’ perfect f’me.”

You felt it. The heat, the throb, the full stretch of him thick inside you, twitching as he emptied himself with a growl, cock jerking with every pulse of cum spilling into you, deep and hot and endless.

The way his cock throbbed inside you, the guttural sounds he made, and his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, pushed you over the edge again, ripping another orgasm from your body, the third of the night so far, leaving you trembling and utterly spent over his body.

“There ya go, baby. Take all of it. Every fuckin’ drop. Thassit. So good f’me.”

You collapsed over him, both of you shaking, gasping, slick and ruined and so full of each other.

But Joel wasn’t done. He kissed you slow and dirty while he was still buried inside you, still hard.

“That was the first gift of the night, sweetheart.” He smirked against your lips. “Hope you’re ready for the next one. ‘Cause I ain’t stoppin’ ‘til the sun comes up.”

A/N: Happy early or belated birthday, depending on when this finds you! Thank you so much for your request—I hope this made a good birthday gift🩷🫶🏻

As always, thank you so much to everyone reading, your constant support means the world. Likes, reblogs, and comments are always deeply appreciated!!

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

[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

all fandom masterlist | hp masterlist | read it on ao3

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

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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︶︶⊹︶

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[usedpidemo]

Cherry ((G)I-dle Minnie)

For you, nothing compares to seeing your favorite artist live, doing what they love the most.

For Minnie, nothing compares to the continued echo of a roaring crowd screaming her name.

But when it’s all said and done, nothing compares to the sound of her one and only fan shouting her name while he’s giving every last inch into her.

—————

Checking your phone, you see the posts on social media. While everyone else is still inside that stadium, Minnie is nowhere to be found, disappearing right after her 30 minute set, no-showing the arbitrary farewell walk around to the fans. Not that everyone cares or will give her heat for her sudden absence, but her presence leaves quite a noticeable hole in the venue.

Judging by how she’s opening the door to her hotel room, you can guess as to where she’s gone. 

Looking through your recorded footage, her eyes kept a steady track on you, as if she personally singled you out. Giving you flirty winks, subtle flying kisses in your direction, smiling at you even as she hosts the rest of the audience between transitions—the signs were there all along. You were caught up in the moment of her performance to properly notice.

That, and your intrusive handmade banner is quite easy for her to notice.

Speaking of—Minnie’s been holding your banner the entire ride back, finally setting it aside on the dining table. With every glance at your simple ‘I love you’ message, her gummy smile only widens. It’s heartwarming to see your effort be rewarded in quite the grandiose manner. A simple acknowledgement would have been enough—a simple heart, a wave, a general glance in your direction, anything.

You never expected to share a ride back to her hotel before she personally guided you inside her personal place.

She always points out how cute your handwriting is. That you went out of your way to write in Thai, even if it's evidently using Google Translate, saying that she’ll keep it in her place in appreciation. 

And so, you have to address the elephant in the room:

“Why me?” you ask, as your gaze wanders around her hotel room, quite simple in design and only meant for simple overnight stays. You can see the venue you were in minutes ago from the large window, a lifetime away thanks to the nighttime traffic. 

“Because I saw it!” Minnie replies, grinning, falling into her usual idol posture like muscle memory. Hands folded together, classy, even if her still-worn stage outfit says otherwise. Casually flaunting off her tight figure and toned little belly just for you. It’s hypnotic. “Flew in from far away just to see me perform here? You’re committed.”

“I mean—you haven’t performed in my country in years,” you remark, bitter at the thought. One of your driving motivations is to at least see her if the worst happened. Fortunately, they’re here to stay a little longer. Nevertheless, your patience was far past its breaking point, and you had to take matters into your own hands. “You have no idea how long I waited for you to come back.”

Minnie frowns, apologetic and empathetic over your plight. “Sorry. We want to reach out and perform everywhere, but—”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve heard it all the time, no need to remind me,” you interrupt, unwilling to hear the same rote excuse for the umpteenth time. Of course it’s the company’s fault, and not you for living in an unprofitable market for international artists to perform. “But that doesn’t matter now. If you ever go and tour, I’ll try flying out here again, like I did just for you.”

Almost immediately, her downcast expression shifts into a look of joy. “Aw. I hope it doesn’t mean you’re going broke for us. It’s not worth it.”

“Of course not,” is your reply, as if you anticipated this exact response. “I wouldn’t even think about going on this trip if I knew I’d be eating cup noodles for the next month.”

“Sounds fun,” Minnie jests, approaching you and brushing loose strands of your hair covering your forehead. Cupping a hand on your cheek, she whispers against your other cheek, her breath hot: “I’ll pay for whatever you need. Flight tickets, hotel accommodation, transportation—name it and I got you covered.”

“Everything’s been accounted for, but I appreciate the thought,” you remark, your eyes following hers. Staring into each other’s gaze intently, her warmth and sincerity in full bloom, you’re falling deeper in love with her. “I—I just didn’t think this would ever happen.”

“No one does,” is her remark, tone sensual, pulling your head closer against hers. “Now I want to ask you a question, and I want you to be honest with me.”

“Of course.”

Her breath tickles your ear, sending chills down your spine. “What’s your favorite song I did tonight?”

You pause, give her a subtle smile, which she immediately reads. Like she already has a clue.

“I think you already know the answer.”

She breathes against your skin in the shape of a chuckle and a smirk. The song begins to play moments later, courtesy of her own phone.

Minnie quietly mouths the lyrics in your ear, and you can’t help but lean closer to get a feel of her lips kissing your skin. You sense the ripple of her waist against yours, a gentle rustle of her shrinking skirt. You engross yourself in the moment that you don’t notice her hands dragging you with her in the direction of the living room couch.

Pushing you onto the sofa right as the second line hits, Minnie continues mouthing the words to her own song effortlessly, dancing before you so sexily knowing she’d never try on stage in a million years, even with their group’s more risque concepts. Her eyes demand every bit of your attention—not that you had anything else in mind but her. 

A private performance, meant only for you. Turning her hotel room into a club, you’d be throwing what little money you have for her if you had anything left. 

And by God, she loves it. Relishing how whipped you are for her. Doesn’t matter if it’s one or thousands, she lives for the attention and praise.

As the chorus hits, Minnie drops to the floor, stomach down ass up, kicking her heels up in the air, her stare remaining fixated at you all throughout. Rehearsed and practiced, yet looking so natural. You can only watch in awe, wondering how long she’s been waiting for the opportunity, how many times she’s done this before to others, and how the stars perfectly aligned for you to have this personalized moment.

It’s torturing you right now that you can’t reach out and touch her, even if you wanted to.

Picking herself off the floor, she saunters toward you, your nerves tensing with every moment, every step forward. Fingers digging deeper into the fabric of your pants, it’s all purposeful how she moves: every sway of her hips, her hands running down her svelte figure, the twirl when she’s standing right between your legs, flaunting her petite ass peeking through her skirt before squatting down in front of you, an arm’s reach away.

The lyrics perfectly describe the situation: 

“Oh no, here we go. Watch me shake it low.”

It’s like she’s daring you to take her and make her yours.

Her ass lingers far longer than what you can perceive. No matter how desperate you are, you can’t bring yourself to move a muscle, do anything but admire and watch helplessly even as Minnie offers herself to you on a silver platter. Not for lack of trying; your mind can’t handle what’s happening right now.

She looks over shoulder with a wicked grin, as if this isn’t the first time she’s left someone victimized with her deliberate teasing.

As if that wasn’t enough, when she spins around to face you, she drags your hands off your pants, replacing them with her own. Leaning forward, her hot breath reacquainting with your skin, followed by the faintest of air kisses. Slowly but surely, she clambers onto your lap, creating unbearable heat between your legs. 

There’s no denying it now. 

Instinctively, your hands find purchase on her ass, squeezing them hard, drawing a moan out of her. Minnie responds in kind, rolling her head back, grinding her hips on your lap, fanning the flames. Her tummy right in your face, you bend forward and kiss her, tracing a path up to her crop top, resting between her chest. Her fingers find their way around your neck, inching herself closer to you till you can hardly breathe.

“Fuck, it’s been a while since I’ve gotten to do this,” she sighs, breaking herself free from the immersion of her own performance. Glancing down to find your face between her bra, she pulls on your face, drawing your gaze to meet hers. “Like what you see?”

“Fuck yes, I do,” you huff, returning to kiss her bra. “But I’ve got a feeling this wasn’t the first time.”

Minnie laughs. “No shit.”

“Just you, or do the others—”

“You already know,” she interrupts, cupping your chin and redirecting your eyes back on her, shutting you up. “Now can we go back to the moment?”

Without another word, she leans down and meets you for a passionate kiss. Eyes closed, letting your feelings do all the talking. At that moment, you’re not fan and idol, but two lovers finding solace in each other’s arms. The only break is when she pulls back to lift your shirt over your head before you’re passionately making out to her own song again.  

She doesn’t even bring up the fact that your hands have been on her ass the whole time. If anything, with every squeeze, she moans softly into your mouth, making music.

But you can’t stay like this for long. Not when you’re both close to reaching your natural climax.

Breaking off the kiss for a second time, Miinie takes a moment to admire you, smiling. Her face, flushed with crimson and lust, keeps you in place while she silently unhooks her top, slipping it off her shoulders before tossing it to the floor and joining your shirt.

Before she tries to kiss you again, the sudden music stoppage snaps both your attention. 

“Ah, fuck me,” Minnie whines, quickly climbing off your lap to reach for the phone on the other side of the living room, buzzing loudly as she races to shut it down as quickly as possible. Giving you a proper look at her half-naked body while she hurriedly mashes buttons on her screen, you’re imagining that’s what she normally looks like in the mornings. 

“Well tell them I felt nauseous and had to rush to the hospital,” she says while clicking her tongue seemingly giving instructions to someone over the phone. When her eyes find yours, she grins cheekily, playing off the situation as nothing but a minor inconvenience. “No one’s gonna find out, surely.”

Like you weren’t casually singled out by staff, escorted out of the venue and riding inside one of the artist’s cars before being told to wait inside for a good 30 minutes before you could finally get out. Under any other context, this would have been a kidnapping case.

“Just give them the usual statement,” she whines, annoyed that she’s getting calls at such an unfortunate time. “I did my set, no? That should be enough. No one’s gonna care by tomorrow,” she adds, before cutting the call and the music picks up where it left off.

“Sorry you had to hear all that.” Minnie sighs as she casually lets her skirt fall to the floor, leaving her in only underwear as she saunters back to you. “I probably should have listened when they said this wasn’t a solo concert.”

To save her from further embarrassment, you remain quiet, but your face can’t hide your amusement watching it unfold in real time. One way or another, you’ll never look at her the same way again.

“Gosh, I gotta ask Yuqi how she does it,” she huffs, setting down her phone on the living room table. “Anyway, where were we?”

You don’t know exactly how to respond, nor do you have the answer to her question. And yet you have an idea as to where this is gonna end.

—————

The song continues to play on loop in the background as Minnie guides you to the bedroom, hand in tow, skirt lost somewhere on the living room floor, before falling onto the bed belly first, spreading her legs wide and baring her holes for display. Showing her pussy to you, she is wet and leaking. 

“Fucking use me,” she huffs, looking over her shoulder, voice raspy, losing herself to her most feral desires. “I know you want this as much as I want it.”

“Fuck, Minnie, I—” Not even your half-assed attempt at reluctance stops you from unraveling with her; it’s  laughably unconvincing. Lining your erect cock against her aching core, drawing a prolonged whine from her needy lips, her passionate sigh makes you shiver in anticipation. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You wouldn’t be positioning yourself behind me if you didn’t,” she remarks, pointing a finger toward your cock. “And that thing wanted me the moment I climbed onto your lap.”

She’d plunge your cock straight into her needy cunt if she could.

Instead, she reaches for the tip, gives it a gentle flick, causing your breaths to go haywire. Sparking a fire within you, Minnie only has one purpose in mind: to set you ablaze. You see it in her inviting smile—her eyes—drawing her fingers back, daring you to finish what she started.

Plunging into her cunt without hesitation, Minnie’s cry of pain and pleasure immediately fills the room and beyond. Obscene, obnoxious, you’re making a statement to everyone that you’re gonna fuck her—hard.

Fingers clamped on the headrest, and then onto the pillow, hanging on for dear life. Her muscles tensing and her hips bucking against yours. All while you’re still trying to adjust inside her; you haven’t moved a muscle since entering her. The only thought permeating your mind is how goddamn tight she feels around you.

The idea of unloading everything into her right then and there floats around your mind, but you begin dragging your cock out, now lathered in sheen and slick, before pushing back into her invigorating heat. 

And fuck, Minnie takes every inch effortlessly. Letting you take charge, giving you free reign over her body. With every stroke, every thrust deeper, she fucking screams. Doesn’t matter that you’re leaving gaping imprints on her skin or that you’re hammering into her with reckless abandon, she only cares about the overwhelming pleasure coursing through her veins.

Like a man possessed, you’re throwing your all into her, pounding her balls deep like your life depends on it, like this is your one and only chance—which it may as well be. 

“So incredible—can’t believe you’re letting me do this—” you rasp, pumping into her so hard the bed begins to quake. Both your hands rest on her svelte waist, wrapped like a vice as you deliver one devastating stroke after another. You can only imagine how she looks, but you get a sense that it’s pornographic and salacious.

“It’s been so long—” she whines, her voice cracking and jumping with every word in response to your thrusts. Her own fingers are gripped to the pillows, lifting her head to keep herself loud and clear, like she isn’t making quite the commotion this late at night. “So goddamn big—oh fuck—more—”

With her ass bouncing and rippling with each thrust, you’re left in a state of trance. God, she looks so good with your cock impaled in her pussy, with cum leaking and dripping from her holes. Accompanied by the filthy sounds of flesh slapping flesh, there’s no better sight for your dizzy, tired eyes. It only serves to spur you on, to keep you moving—as if you need any more motivation.

Giving her no respite, maintaining quite the chokehold you have on her, you lean forward against her ear, and your erratic breaths—your little vibrations—sends her into upper heaven. You haven’t uttered a single word, yet your looming presence drives her crazy.

“Pull on it, baby. Please—” Minnie cries, pertaining to her hair, barely held together by a loosened tie and prayers.

As much as you want to say anything back, the vice grip she has on you is just as strong, if not stronger. So intoxicatingly tight, gathering your thoughts into something coherent proves to be an immense struggle. It gets to a point where you don’t know who’s truly in control here.

And seeing as you’re doing exactly that—pulling on her hair as you kiss the helix of her ear, unable to keep up with her tempo—you sense the end is coming. And fast.

Still, there’s no relenting. She feels too good to slow down for even a moment, fearing that if you do, this unreal bliss is lost forever. So you hold on, redirecting all your focus on everything else about her body: exploring her back, lifting her on her fours, twisting her body in your hands—anything to keep your mind off the idea that you’re falling apart. 

Your unrelenting pace supersedes every effort you’re making. It’s a relief that Minnie is fucked beyond coherence right now, losing herself in her own ecstasy. Nevertheless, you’re mentally counting down the little time you have left.

“Almost, Minnie—” you coo into her neck, rolling her on her side, lifting her helpless figure, squeezing on her breast. Fighting with the dying remains of your resolve to keep the fire alive before it fans out, Minnie looks absolutely drained, her body pushed far beyond its limit. “I’m so close—”

“Inside—” she barely manages to whine, palming your back, pulling you into a warm embrace, unwilling to accept any other outcome. Eyes completely shut, just letting pleasure freely flow in and out of her veins, rolling her hips up as you thrust into her, your grip on reality collapsing in real time. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna—”

Her voice goes high, breaks her train of thought as you sense her crumble underneath you, her climax hitting at the apex. The heat of her walls suffocating, putting you in an inescapable chokehold, her legs wrapping around yours—the intention is clear: you’re gonna stay there, cum inside, and lay it all on her. 

It’s only right that your own orgasm follows. 

Holding her through your own end, every second an eternity in itself, as you bury yourself balls deep, letting Minnie milk you for all your worth. Shuddering as your bodies intertwine as one, bracing as every spurt of cum you give her with hits with the same level of impact as the previous burst, like fireworks exploding. Can’t make out a clear visual as your vision goes blurry, so you take solace in her arms as the pulse in your loins gradually dies.

Until the only thing you can hear is each other’s heartbeats.

Minnie’s a delicate treasure, one of one. Despite fucking her into shreds mere moments ago, you can’t go out like this: pressing your weight on her, dangerously close to passing out under the afterglow of your own orgasm.

Fortunately, Minnie sees the scene differently, smiling: “Wow.” 

She’s roaming her hands down your arms, warily glancing at the aftermath between your legs. A fresh puddle has formed on the sheets, now stained beyond repair. “That’s—a lot more than I thought,” she remarks, laughing at herself.

“That’s what you do to me,” you say, brushing her hair side, softly kissing her. As you try to pull back, Minnie sinks further, keeping your lips locked a few more precious moments longer. 

You need to take a breather; blink a few times to let everything sink in: that she’s the one who made the advance. Every single opportunity.

And as the mood slowly dies, as both of you stare into each other’s eyes, uncertain of what happens now, her phone rings loudly in the background again.

You give her this look, as if to say: ‘Seriously? In this ungodly hour?’ To which Minnie merely smirks before rolling out of bed. As if this was expected. Hell, she looks surprised that it didn’t happen mid-climax.

Limping out of the bedroom, making a strong case not to fly out tomorrow, even though she won’t have activities for the next few days. Learning from earlier, she hides herself out away from your view before she returns with her phone in hand, throwing it right in your direction, falling short of landing on your face.

“Not this time,” she remarks, wagging her finger, reading your mind. “And for the record, they completely bought it.”

You can only laugh and shrug as Minnie climbs onto your lap, falling into your arms. —————

(A/N: Kind of a quick one, apologies, not really much time to write filth when you're almost graduating. Currently stuck in thesis hell with only a few weeks left before the semester ends, so please bear with me a bit longer. A few months into 2025 and Blind Eyes Red is still one of my favorite K-pop songs released so far, who knew the lyrics were horny as fuck? That made the rest of the idea a lot simpler. Thank you for reading!)

[gothcsz]

Safety Net: Part I | ~13.8k wc | Co-Written with @ovaryacted | Series Masterlist

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Motivated by boredom, Marcus goes on a sugar dating app and lands himself a date with you, the only person that captured his attention.

CHAPTER TAGS: MDNI/18+. NSFW. Modern AU. Sugar daddy Marcus Acacius/Sugar baby reader. Age gap [Marcus is 50/reader is 25+]. SMUT. Plot with porn. Kissing/Makeout session. Dry humping. Premature ejaculation. Oral (f! receiving). Multiple orgasms. Overstimulation. MARCUS THE MUNCH! Sexual tension. Flirting & banter. First date chronicles. Lots of plot & world building beforehand. Takes place in Chicago. Marcus uses a sugar dating app. Reader is explicitly described as a curvy woman of color: darker skin tone, curly hair texture, etc. Reader has feminine characteristics - wears dresses, heels, jewelry, & makeup. Reader is afab and able bodied. Marcus is recently divorced. Marcus comes from old money and is a businessman. Chivalry isn't dead.

A/N: This has been in the works for far too long but finally, we managed to lock in and cook up some straight heat! This is what happens when you put two yapping hoes on a doc, so we hope everyone who feens for Marcus Acacius as much as we do enjoys the fruits of our labor lol. Reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated. Support your BIPOC writers 🖤

Another lone dinner, nothing but the gritty sound of the song echoing from his record player to accompany him.

Tonight was meant to be a small victory. Marcus had enrolled in a cooking class to keep busy after the divorce, and this meal was supposed to put those new skills to use. But as he chopped, cooked, ate and cleaned, the expected satisfaction never came. Instead, a quiet boredom crept in—maybe even isolation.

It was like his body was moving on autopilot, simply going through the motions.

He brings the rim of his glass up to his lips, eyes falling down to the city below. From his penthouse, the skyline sometimes blurs beneath a soft haze of clouds, making the world below look like a dream. The wealth, the view, the opulence—it’s everything people imagine happiness to be. And yet… loneliness seeps into his bones, slowly debilitating his already precarious joy.

He assumed that divorcing from his now ex-wife would help pull him out of this stupor. They were both in agreeance that their marriage had been nothing but one out of convenience—the best thing for the both of them at that time. No romance, no passion, just a practical arrangement that worked. At least, until it didn’t.

Marcus hadn’t expected her to fight for the marriage, but he also hadn’t expected her to fixate on the prenup. One night, in the midst of her moving out, he’d overheard her gossiping on the phone with one of her friends. It would’ve gotten a lot nastier if I hadn’t gotten what I was owed.

The words hit harder than he expected. On some level, he had loved her. Not in the way a husband should love a wife, but in a way that still meant something to him. There had been care, respect, even a kind of tenderness—out of duty, maybe, but real nonetheless. He even enjoyed being a stepfather to her teenage son.

No resentment was held, not when they were about to part ways.

She was entitled to a payout, and he made sure she got it, wiring the full amount before the lawyers could sink their teeth into the process. No use in dragging things out or turning something empty into something bitter. 

So they ended it quietly and swiftly. One last dinner as husband and wife, a toast to a chapter closing, and then the signing of papers that made it official.

It has been months since then, and Marcus is right where he’s always been. The same life, the same routine—just without the pretense of a marriage. He’s outgrown the bachelor lifestyle and has no interest in jumping back to it. He’s in fifties with a divorce under his belt, family business in his care, and more money than he knows what to do with. 

Most men in his position would see this as a rebirth, an excuse to run wild. He’s seen it plenty—divorcees burning through their wealth to impress women half their age, indulging in recklessness until, eventually, they wonder how the fuck they lost it all.

The thought makes him scoff slightly, shaking his head as he continues to lose himself in his own mind, still gazing over the city.

Ever since word got out that he was single again, the men in his social circle have been relentless. They want him to “get back out there,” find some young thing to do more than stroke his ego and remind him he’s still got it. Their concern isn’t for his happiness—it’s for their own validation. They want him to fall in line, to indulge like they do, to prove they’re all still kings of their own little worlds.

The idea of dating brings a faint migraine thumping at his temples. No way in hell. He doesn’t have it in him to go through first date purgatory of asking the same grueling questions, only to have nothing in common with the person at the end of the night. And his work acquaintances aren’t suggesting anything so conventional, anyway. 

He’s lost count of how many times they’ve invited him to strip clubs or proposed outrageous tropical getaways filled with booze and paid company. They aren’t subtle about their misogyny, either. They brag about the escorts they’ve hired, the women they’ve bought for the night, offering him contact information like they’re handing out business cards. In case you get tired of using your fist all the time, they joke.

The detachment of sex is what he finds peculiar. It’s not about pleasure, it’s about seeking validation from other men while putting another notch at their bedpost. It’s why he rarely accepts their invitations. Avoiding their outings, distancing himself as much as he can… but only to a certain degree. Unfortunately, these men are his business partners, and in his world, he wasn’t exactly given the luxury of full separation.

The act of paying for sex isn’t the problem. He doesn’t care how they get their satisfaction, really, it only grates on him when their vulgarity spills into business meetings, when corporate lunches turn into competitions over who had the best night with the most expensive woman.

Take today, for example, when a longtime partner had sidled up to him as he was headed home for the day, practically shoving the phone into Marcus’s hands.

“Met this chick on that app I was telling you about and scored myself a date tonight. She’s hot.”

Marcus resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the way this grown man was waving the information around as if it were something to boast about. He barely glanced at the screen—a woman in a tight dress posing in front of a bar. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? Congratulations?

Before he had to give an answer, the elevator doors opened. A perfect escape. He handed the phone back and muttered a quick, “Have a good weekend,” stepping out and letting the doors shut on yet another conversation he wanted no part of.

Now he’s here, two and a half glasses of whiskey deep with a curiosity that feeds off his boredom. He retreats from his reprieve at the window, walking into the living room and settling on the couch. Flipping mindlessly through TV channels, nothing seems to hold his attention.

His fingers drum against the side of the glass cup before intrigue gives way, slipping a hand into the pocket of his sweatpants. He pulls out his phone, unlocking it with a swipe of his thumb, his whiskey resting loosely in his other hand. 

With furrowed brows, Marcus navigates through his phone at an infuriatingly slow pace. He squints slightly, trying to read the small text, and his large thumbs fumble across the keyboard, leaving a string of typos that have him muttering curses under his breath. He misspells the damn thing twice until finally, the name of the ridiculous app pops up in the search results.

The little loading circle spins, downloading the application to his phone. When the prompt to open it appears, he hovers, as if contemplating if this is even worth it. A few seconds pass before the liquor in his system decides for him, opening the app with a tap.

The first thing it asks is if he’s the benefactor or the beneficiary. He huffs, taking a sip of his drink, choosing his role as the sugar daddy before ultimately filling in the blanks needed for an account set up. It all feels ridiculous, but what does he have to lose?

Then he reaches the About Me section and stops. The blinking cursor taunts him, he can’t help but scowl at it, whiskey swirling in his glass as he thinks. What do you say about yourself when you don’t even know what you want?

Marcus A. 50+. Chicago. Business Owner. Not sure what to say here. First time trying something like this. I prefer a strong drink over small talk, but I appreciate good conversation with someone who has something to say.

Not his best work, but he doesn’t dwell on it. He skips through the rest of the trivial questions—religion, favorite movies, hobbies. The longer the list grows, the more tedious it feels.

Then comes the photo prompt. Somehow, this feels like the hardest part.

Marcus scrolls through his camera roll and realizes most of his photos aren’t of him at all—just landscapes from his travels, on-site projects, plenty from his trips back home to Italy, but few that actually put him in the frame.

He settles on a lone one from an important dinner a few years back. It’s stiff, formal, but at least it’s something. 

When he’s done, he studies the profile. Sparse. Impersonal. He’s not exactly proud of it, but he’s not here to impress anyone. He’s here to look—nothing more.

The next hurdle? Preferences. 

He frowns slightly, finishing off his drink before setting the glass on the coffee table. He sinks further into the couch, glaring at the screen.

He sets the minimum to twenty-five. Mature enough to have lived a little, young enough that he isn’t limiting himself too much. Local, of course. No sense in complicating things.

With that, he’s finally done.

Marcus isn’t sure what he expected, but the more he scrolls, the less interested he becomes.

The app is filled with beautiful women—plenty of soft smiles, sultry gazes, perfectly angled selfies. Glossy, curated versions of themselves, posed just right, filters smoothing away any perceived imperfection. He sees them in designer bikinis lounging on yachts, captions that all seem to blur together. No hookups. Fluent in sarcasm. Just here for the pay pigs.

That last one gets a quiet chuckle out of him.

Nevertheless, it’s all the same. It bores the hell out of him. He swipes left again and again and again…

He’s about to call the whole thing immature bullshit when he comes across your profile.

No forced captions, no excessive filters, no painfully obvious attempts to curate some idealized version of yourself. You have a natural confidence, an ease in the way you present yourself. The way you talk about your interests—travel, food, new experiences—it doesn’t feel like a list of things meant to impress. 

And then there are your pictures.

Your hair is thick, wild with curls, framing your face in a way that makes you look like you belong in the kind of old-world paintings he admires when he’s abroad. Your brown skin, kissed with warmth, glows under the soft light of a restaurant where you’re pictured, hands wrapped around a glass of wine, a knowing, almost amused look in your eyes. There’s another shot of you at a market, caught mid-laugh as you react to something just out of frame. 

Marcus exhales, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

Damn.

He doesn’t message you. Not yet. 

He told himself that this app was just for curiosity, just to look and pass the time. He hadn’t expected to actually come across someone that made him consider.

The whole damn thing feels ridiculous. He’s a grown man, successful, established. And here he is, sitting alone in his penthouse, scrolling through an app designed to find a sugar baby of all things. What the hell is he even doing?

Without thinking about it, he taps the Super Like and immediately closes out the application.

You probably have a dozen other prospects already lining up in your messages, throwing out their best lines, trying to capture your attention. He’s just another name in the mix, another notification you might just skim over before moving on. 

So be it, he got it out of his system—whatever that was. Some passing curiosity, a distraction fueled by whiskey and boredom. By tomorrow, he’ll be preoccupied with work, meetings, actual obligations, and the whole thing will be nothing more than a brief lapse of judgment. Maybe he should save himself the trouble and just delete the damn app now, wipe his profile along with it before he even has the chance to regret it.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he sighs, pushing himself up from the couch, stretching out the stiffness in his shoulders before making his way toward the bedroom. His night routine is as methodical as everything else.

Yet, as he settles into bed, he finds himself thinking about you and how for a moment, he had felt something he hadn’t in a long time—intrigue. 

The next day flies by quickly for Marcus, swamped with the countless meetings lined up for him at the architectural firm. Overseeing a new development in the city took whatever time he might’ve thought he had, his poor assistants making multiple trips to the coffee shops nearby as the day progressed. He was already greatly familiar with the boost of caffeine running through his veins, growing more on edge with every file that lands on his desk.

By the time he got home, he was damn near slumping against his front door, tossing his keys in the trinket tray by the foyer, tugging off his blazer and throwing it over the edge of the couch while dragging his tired feet to the kitchen. Yanking on his tie and popping it off with one swift pull, he removes his cufflinks and folds the sleeves of his button down up to his forearms, plucking a few of the buttons from his collar to finally allow himself to breathe.

Reaching over to one of the cabinets, he grabs himself a glass, dropping in some ice cubes and taking his favorite brand of whiskey, filling it halfway. The headache building at his temples ebbs away as he gulps down the amber liquid, palms resting on the granite countertop under him. He merely stares at the stone, eyes blank and now deep in thought. A frustrated exhale leaves his aquiline nose, running a hand through his graying curls as the stress of the day radiates through every cell in his body.

He knows he should probably just order something for dinner tonight over cooking, his mind too fried to put together an ingredient list, and the thought of washing dishes was enough to force the decision for him.

Marcus refills his glass and takes his phone to the living room, turning on the TV and leaving the news to play for some background noise as he sorts through his options of what he might be able to stomach.

What was he even in the mood for? Italian? Korean? Chinese? Some lo-mein sounds good, maybe with an egg-roll or two? Yeah, that sounds about fine.

He calls his order in, finding some spare cash and picks it up from the lobby. He didn’t bother to remove his leather shoes when he took the elevator 50 floors down for the handoff, coming back up the same way until he was munching into an egg-roll covered in duck sauce on the couch.

Food long gone and the glass coffee table now cleared of his takeout, the gold watch on Marcus’ wrist reads 10:30 pm when he finds himself weary of the late night news turned mediocre comedy segment. Grabbing his phone and pinning a few emails for him to read over in the morning, he swipes to his apps menu, spotting the new dating application he had completely forgotten about since setting up his profile the night before.

Fuck it, what the hell.

With no thought, Marcus opens the app for a second time, watching the icon load on the screen before he lands on the main page. Swiping to the chats section, his screen explodes with the 99+ Super Likes he had gotten over the past 24 hours. Yet, he could care less of the other profiles he has to sort through. The only match that loads on his screen is from your account, an unread message he had gotten no notification of despite it sitting idly in his inbox for a day. Nervously, he taps at the message box, your icon popping up on the screen along with what you had sent last night.

“So you’re just going to super like my account and not say anything?”

The corner of his lip twitches when he reads that over, his eyes scanning over the sentence more than once with a raised eyebrow. His brain short-circuits as he tries to find a suitable response that doesn’t make a fool of himself. He’s positive he already looks like an idiot by having an account in the first place, but he’s gotten this far, might as well stick around.

After a few minutes of typing and deleting a singular sentence, he triple checks his spelling until he’s satisfied with what he came up with before hitting send.

Marcus A.: “Must’ve missed the chat option when I hit your profile. Didn’t mean to keep you waiting, I’m new to this whole thing.”

His screen updates with the dot under your profile turning green, a sign that you were active again. You definitely saw his message, and the three little dots he notices at the bottom make his pulse spike, anxiously waiting for what else you had to say to him.

“That’s okay. Figured you had other things going on. You look like a guy that has a lot on their plate, Mr. Businessman.”

Now he was smirking.

Marcus A.: “You have no idea.” He typed the reply and sent it, and you responded just as quickly. 

“Try me.”

Should he talk about what he has to deal with on a daily basis with his work? Bore you with how he oversees the blueprints of different construction plans throughout the city and has extensive meetings that last all day? So much for a lasting first impression.

Marcus A.: “I wouldn’t want to bother you with work stuff. It’s not all that interesting.”

“I don’t mind really. I’m a little curious to know what takes up all of your time. Must be something serious if you’re all stressed out.”

No harm in being honest right?

Marcus A.: “Well, usually I have a lot of meetings and paperwork to handle while conducting new building developments in the city. But today was particularly hectic, I was swamped all day, probably drank way more coffee today than I had all year.”

Was that good enough? Not too much, not too little. Didn’t come off as petulant or like he wanted pity. This isn’t too bad, at least Marcus thinks so considering you were working on your reply.

“Sounds like a lot of intense work, lots of brain power. At least you have a team to help you out, takes a bit of the strain off your back. Hope you’re relaxing a bit now.”

Marcus A.: “Yeah, got home late but had some dinner. Just watching the news before I repeat the cycle tomorrow. How was your day?”

Bingo. Perfect bait and switch.

“Boring, honestly. Work was alright for the most part, finished a bit early. Ate a few hours ago, and was reading something before bed when I saw your message.”

Oh? Another avid reader?

Marcus A.: “What do you like to read?”

“A mix of things. Non-Fiction, Sci-Fi, History, Romance. It depends on my mood really, but right now it’s Circe by Madeline Miller.”

Marcus A.: “I read that a while back, it’s a pretty good book. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“It definitely has my interest. I hit the halfway mark, so maybe I'll keep you updated once I finish it. :)”

Somehow, he wasn’t opposed to the idea.

Marcus A.: “I wouldn’t mind listening to your thoughts about it.”

The three little dots appear for a second before vanishing. Marcus stares at the screen for a beat longer, hoping it wasn’t just a fluke. Maybe he scared you off? Said the wrong thing, or something finally gave away just how out of touch he was to all of this. At this rate, he might as well get 50 & Divorced tattooed on his forehead in bright red ink.

There was no point in stressing out about this anymore, it’s late anyway, close to midnight and past his conscious bedtime. Switching the TV and lights off in the living room, he quickly showers and rinses the day off. Changing into some fleece pants and a baggy gray shirt, he brushes his teeth and spits out his mouthwash, flicking off the light as he steps into his bedroom.

As he slips into his too-big king sized bed, he untucks the cream sheets and rests his head on one of the many pillows, glaring up at the ceiling with a huff. Turning over to his side, he catches the lights of the downtown area reflecting by the window, trying his best not to think about how cold and empty the other side of his bed remained. With a sigh, he eases into slumber, hoping that whatever tomorrow brings will be significantly better than today.

The next day in his week was thankfully less hectic, but instead of document packets, his phone had been going off all day speaking to clients, other business partners, and suppliers. And that was only counting Chicago. He got other additional calls from properties in New York, Los Angeles, and now some new construction he’s attempting to get signed off in Miami. He was so preoccupied with his business phone that his personal device was left untouched for the majority of the day.

It was 8:00 pm when Marcus walks through the front doors of his penthouse, repeating the same mundane pattern of tending to his needs and finding something to keep himself occupied until he fell asleep. In the back of his head, he remembers the brief conversation he had with you last night, curiosity getting the best of him as he wonders if you left him something to read over this morning. 

Tensely, he opens up the dating app, heading straight to his inbox to click on your unread message from 18 hours ago.

“Maybe I’ll send you a full book review. Put it in an episode of a podcast. I think it would do numbers.”

The circle on your icon is green now, and he rapidly types something so he doesn’t lose this momentum.

Marcus A.: “Forgive me for the terrible response time, I had another busy day in the office, dealing with non stop phone calls this time.”

The three little dots turn up again, and Marcus sighs in relief.

“No worries. You have things to handle, just part of being a working adult.”

If he wants to take his shot, he knows his best chance is to do it now.

Marcus A: “Actually, I’d like to get your number, if that’s alright. Me and this app don’t mix well. I wouldn’t want to give you the wrong idea and make you think you were being ignored.”

You begin typing before you disappear, the green circle now turning gray. He scared you off, maybe even gave you the ick when that was the last thing he wanted. Marcus was just doomed from the start, and getting on this app was a mistake. What would you even really want to do with an old man like him? It’s pitiful really.

Anxiously, he shuts his phone off and storms off into his bedroom, throwing some water on his face and getting into bed once more. He probably should’ve just went to sleep and left you alone, but his hands itch to see if you answered him. Twisting to get his phone from his bedside table and reopening the app, the empty space in his chest flutters when he sees you had left him a very clear yes with your entire phone number, right there for him to take it.

Copying and pasting your number into his phone, he sent you a quick text letting you know it was him, and you reassured him this was no problem, that you hated the app with a burning passion.

“I’m guessing it’s close to your bedtime now?”

Marcus A: “Unfortunately, I’m an old man remember? But, my phone will be on me tomorrow, so I’ll be around if you want to chat some more.”

“Sure thing, I’ll be around too. Don’t want to keep you up so I’ll let you go. Goodnight Marcus.”

He likes the way you say his name, type it out like it’s yours to say. With one last “goodnight”, his phone is off and his face is digging into the pillow underneath. For once, he is looking forward to tomorrow, and secretly hopes that you’d still be interested in talking some more. Maybe, he might just end up lucky.

Marcus quickly realizes he enjoys talking with you; at least when you both had the time to converse with each other, it was better than scrolling aimlessly on his phone. Texting is convenient for the most part when he can, sending little questions about you here and there, and you feed him breadcrumbs, still holding some control over how you want him to perceive you. He doesn’t mind, he’s mostly on your time, and if you want to play the cat and mouse game, he’ll play.

It was actually you that asked to call him the first time, a laconic talk just to hear his voice, to get a feel of him. Marcus didn’t know what to think of how you reacted to the way he spoke, but he knows hearing your voice might’ve been the catalyst to his growing interest in you. The conversation was short-lived, but it was good to hear you on the other end.

He has enough confidence to call you again later on in the week after work, a more extensive recap of both of your days. In the midst of laughing at a stupid joke he’s made, he’s thinking of the best way to formally ask you out. He’d been mulling over it for the past few days as you both tiptoed on getting to know one another, and he knows if he wants to take his shot, it has to be now.

“Out of curiosity, are you free Friday night?” He inquires, holding his phone close to his ear, anticipating every word you say.

“I might be, unless I just happened to forget my plans. Why?”

Shooter’s shot. 

“I wanted to take you out to dinner. There’s this steakhouse downtown by Kinzie Street, really nice food, intimate setting, expensive wine or cocktails if that’s your thing. Think it would be a good time.”

“You had me at cocktails.” You both chuckled at that notion. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Does 7 work for you?”

“Make it 7:30. A girl needs time to get ready, Marcus. First impressions matter y’know?” It was his turn to laugh despite his hands sweating.

“Then I’ll come by at 7:30 and pick you up. Unless you want to go on your own, I can arrange a ride for you.”

You hummed on the other end of the line, contemplating your choices. Probably assessing what was the smartest way of getting out of the situation if things were to go horribly wrong.

“A ride to the place might be better. You don’t need to see me full of anxiety so early in the night.”

“Well, I want to see you either way. I’ll have my driver pick you up, alright? How does that sound?”

“Sounds perfect. It’s a date then.” There was no question or doubt from you, and he’s glad you were the one that determined what the occasion was.

“It’s a date. I’ll see you Friday night.”

The call ends, and Marcus missed how intense his heart had been beating in his ribcage the entire time. Setting a reminder to call the restaurant tomorrow to place the reservation, he spots the time on his phone screen blinking 11:45 pm on a Wednesday. Two more days until he gets to meet you face to face, and the thought alone brings an eerie sense of restlessness to his stomach.

He’s made it this far, there’s no way he could fuck this up, right?

Friday night rolls around, and the anxiety that’s been bubbling in Marcus’ gut since he asked you out to dinner rears its ugly head. He spent a significantly longer time getting ready, making sure to fit a haircut in during his lunch break and left some room for a beard trim after his extensive shower. Hyper focused on making the most ideal first impression, he dabbles some scented aftershave on his neck and mixes it in with a few spritz of his signature cologne, double checking to ensure it isn’t too overwhelming.

Sorting through the multitude of suits hanging in his closet, Marcus decides that sticking to what he knows would be the best thing for him. He pulls out a classic black suit set and matching dress shoes, foregoing a tie and leaving the first button undone, the skin of his neck slightly visible from the opening. Clicking his golden cufflinks into their designated slots, he finishes his look for the night with his golden watch on his left wrist and slipping on the emerald signet ring on his right pinkie. Before stepping out the door, he takes the bouquet of long stemmed roses he picked out for you, giving his styled curly hair a look over and walking out the front door.

Regardless of how put together he appears, he is anything but composed. Finding himself way out of his comfort zone, his lack of experience in the dating department catches up with him on his drive downtown. His phone rings with a message from you letting him know you’ve been picked up and will be meeting him soon. It was 7:15 pm when you sent that text, and the lump in his throat worsens his breathing the closer 7:30 pm comes.

He’s been mentally preparing for your arrival for the past ten minutes, repeatedly staring down at his watch or his phone to see if you’ve said anything else to him since your last message. Waiting out front, roses in hand, his mind resets to his default settings of methodical overthinking once it hits 7:35 pm.

Did you stand him up? No, maybe something happened on the commute. Must be sudden traffic, it is a Friday night after all. Or you finally came to your senses and your cold feet convinced you to turn his car around and head in the opposite direction.

By 7:40 pm, the familiar view of one of his Escalades rolling into the driveway quiets his mind, brown eyes focusing solely on the figure that steps out from the vehicle.

He is immediately struck.

The dress you’ve chosen is sinful in its simplicity—long-sleeved, form-fitting black fabric hugging every curve, sculpting you like it was made for your body alone. The light jacket you wear does little to hide your figure underneath it; the dress flows over your hips and clings to your waist, cuts off right above your knee leaving your calves bare for him to admire, not to mention the neckline teases just low enough to show the swells of your breasts.

Your curls are pulled back in a half-up style that showcases your beautiful features accentuated by your makeup, leaving the delicate slope of your neck bare—an invitation, a temptation. The golden accents—your earrings, your rings, and the necklace that rests against your collarbone—catch in the evening light, making your warm brown skin glow like you’re drenched in sunlight.

He swallows hard, his grip tightening around the bouquet in his hand as he watches you step forward, poised and self-assured, utterly unaware of the effect you have on him.

He’s staring. He knows he is, yet he can’t help it.

Because right now, with the city lights flickering behind you and that unreadable expression on your face as you scan the area for him, you look like something ethereal. Like a star that shot down from the sky and landed right in front of him, impossibly real, impossibly his for the night.

He stands frozen in awe of you until your glossy lips move, talking to him in the flesh.

“Marcus, right?” you ask, holding on to your purse with one hand. “I’m so sorry for being late, the traffic was more active than usual. I hope I didn’t ruin anything?”

He finally finds his voice in the next couple of blinks.

“No, it’s alright. It’s a Friday night, I forget everyone else has plans set.” That gets you to laugh, and he exhales at the break in tension. “You look beautiful.” It’s sincere as he says it, and from the way you smile at his words, he thinks he’s doing something right.

“You don’t clean up too bad yourself.” You were a witty one, at least from the tone of your voice and demeanor, he can tell this wasn’t your first rodeo. “You didn’t have to get me flowers.”

“I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I came empty handed. A little birdie told me that first impressions matter, remember?” The corner of your mouth curls up at the way he echoes your words from two nights ago, a light chuckle escaping you. He extends his arm to hand you the bouquet, observing your reaction as he did so.

“They’re lovely, thank you,” your voice softens as you speak to him, a faint warmth settling on your cheeks under your makeup.

“Of course. Ready to go inside?” He suggests, and with a nod you take a step forward to the restaurant’s entrance.

As the hostess ushers you through the restaurant, Marcus keeps the steady weight of his palm on your lower back, just the right amount of pressure to not seem too forceful. You are brought to a more quiet section of the place, a few other dining patrons nearby but limited in number. The setting is intended to be intimate with the dim warm-toned lighting, a mixture of stone and archived pictures of an industrialized Chicago decorating the walls around you.

The hostess steps away once you reach your table, and Marcus swiftly helps you remove your thin jacket, placing it on the edge of your chair and pulling it out for you to take a seat, pushing you in afterward. Now situated in your designated place, the older man steps around you, watching him as he undoes the front button of his suit jacket before sitting down, looking in your direction and offering a gentle smile. Mimicking his expression, you drop the flowers at the center of the table, feeling the delicate tablecloth in front of you.

“Have you been here before?” He queries once you are both settled, a waiter coming by to fill your glasses with water.

“No, I’ve been trying to score a reservation here for months but I heard it’s been booked out way in advance. Not entirely surprised you found a way to grab a table so quickly, but color me shocked.”

“I’m a man of many talents. It’s a good thing you found me when you did.” The same waiter from before returns to pass the menu, prepared to give the tailored list of the chef’s specials for the night. “Feel free to indulge. Get whatever you like.”

As tempting as the invitation is, you are more than conscious of what you order off the menu. Playing it safe with a classic salad, a hearty steak, and two glasses of wine that leave you satisfied in terms of appetite. Marcus surprisingly does a good job of keeping you engaged throughout the night with simple conversation, easing into the comfortably of letting his curiosity speak for itself with the questions he asks. Though, he quickly comes to realize you’re charismatic with your responses, almost trained to know what to expect, how to answer and the tone you should be using.

It’s by the time the entree hits your table and you finish your first glass of wine that you loosen up, flipping his questions back to him, finding out more about his career, who he is, his likes and dislikes. Your grin widens more with every sip of your drink, pacing yourself to be sensible in your consumption while you eat.

Now almost finished with your second glass of expensive red, you swirl the last drops that pool at the bottom of the glass. You glance at him from across the table, eyeing him closely with a hint of mischief. He mirrors your expression, his cheek dimpling as he looks at you from the other end.

“You’re an awfully observant man, Marcus.” You remark, a slight edge to your voice, glossy lips staining the rim of your glass as you finish off your drink.

“When something is deserving of my attention, I have a habit of not cheapening out.” He playfully shrugs, his glass running empty a while ago, declining a refill as he’s taking it easy tonight. “Are you in the mood for dessert?”

Whether he meant the next course or something else, that was for him to know and for you to find out. Though, as enticing the prospect is to take it there, you don’t want to misread the situation beyond what it is.

“I actually don’t think I have room for anything else, the steak did a number on me.” An upbeat giggle pours out of you, and he laughs along with you.

“Then unless you want another glass of wine, I can ask for the check. Or…” his voice drifts off, the suspense grabbing your attention.

“Or?” That’s when he sees it, a spark of intrigue that fills him with a boldness he’s been harboring since sitting down at this table.

“Or you can join me for a drink, back at my place, if you’d like of course. If not, I can drop you off at home before heading back to mine.” Marcus is asking you to go back home with him, at least that’s what he thinks. Yet, it almost seems like it’s more than a suggestion, but a subdued command. Not that you’re complaining, you were hoping he’d ask at some point.

“Sure, I wouldn’t mind another drink.”

He tries to hide his surprise at your answer, but after seeing the faint gleam in your eye, his cheek dimples once more.

With a quick gesture of his hand, Marcus whips out his black card and covers the tab, his palm taking its place on our tailbone as you both walk out of the restaurant together. His tinted Escalade rolls onto the street, and he steps to the side to let you in first, closing the door behind him and setting his address as the next destination. Throughout the ride, there is a comfortable distance between you, stuck on opposite ends in the backseat, throwing each other side glances when looking away from the window, a smile here and there. Still, he keeps his hands to himself, thick fingers thrumming on his lap and you hold your bag in yours, the anticipation of seeing where the older man lived incrementing inside you.

Twenty minutes later and a brief dinner recap, he extends his hand to help you out of the car, faintly squeezing your fingers as he does. He remains steadfast in keeping his touch on your lower back as he guides you through the lobby hall, the doorman greeting you both whilst passing him.

Entering the elevator, he taps part of his key on the scanner and presses the PH button at the very top of the selection, what you assume to be the penthouse. He gives you a knowing look, a gleam in his eyes as you’re sent up higher in this modernized building.

Crossing through the hallway that awaits you once the elevator doors open, you are brought to a pair of double doors. Allowing Marcus to formally unlock the door, you step into his space for the first time, and you can’t help the gasp that slips out of you.

Guided through the foyer of his apartment, you find high rise ceilings and earthy tones surrounding you, hints of creams and metallic accents left everywhere to find. The kitchen is fully decked out with modern stainless steel appliances and light wooden cabinets, a marble island taking the empty space in the middle. The open concept layout allows you to see the living room, sunken into the floor at a lower level, spotting a plush dark brown L shaped couch with smaller cream cushions behind a deep wooden coffee table, paired with a twin set of auburn armchairs and an overarching lamp between them. A fireplace is built into the accent wall, a plasma screen TV seamlessly hanging in contrast to the wooden panels that cover that portion of the room.

You can tell there is probably more for you to discover, another hallway that would allow you passage to an office or his bedroom, but that will be left for another day. What really catches your eye is the wall of books to the farthest side of the room, close to the frosted windows and balcony that grant a perfect view of the Chicago Loop area at night. The shelving carries a catered collection of works that were found over the years, and your curiosity piques to see what titles he might have in there.

The space is gorgeous, surprisingly warm and inviting, simultaneously masculine and calming. A harmonization of colors and textiles all in one space. You envy him just a tad for having such a nice apartment, though you might consider this one to be the best interior you’ve seen so far.

“What do you think? Hopefully it’s not too much,” you hear Marcus utter from behind you, taking off his suit jacket and hanging it off to the side. He offers to take off your overcoat, allowing his hands to lightly caress over your shoulders as he tugs the layer off, hanging it next to his. He also grasps the bouquet you’re holding, setting it down on the table closest to the door to grab later on your way out.

“I think you’re a man of fine taste for both exteriors and interiors.” You continue to marvel at your current backdrop. “Did you design all of this too?”

“Partially. Worked with an interior designer to figure out the dimensions of things, what exactly I needed to achieve my vision. But for the most part, the colors, textures and where everything goes was all me. The sunken living room was definitely my idea, did not sit well with the building managers but they came around.”

“I’m amazed you managed to get away with that.”

“You pick up a few things here and there the more you learn about the industry.” He looks at your side profile for a second before he speaks again. “Do you still want that drink?”

“That depends. What do you have?” You turn on your heel to face him, a coy smile on your pretty face.

“Anything really. Wine, whiskey, I can mix a drink for you if you’d prefer that.” For some reason, the potential of seeing Marcus make a drink tugs at your chest. Taking a second to think of a solid option, you settle on a reasonable cocktail.

“You know how to make a whiskey sour?” You watch the way his face quirks up at your choice of drink.

“Sure do. Make yourself at home.”

Marcus wanders off to the kitchen where he has what looks to be a whole bar built into a portion of the sectioned off room. You walk around the space he’s tailored to be his, running your fingertips over the edge of the couch and admiring the paintings hanging on the wall by the bookshelves. Scanning over the varying book titles, you note the multiple accounting and real estate books, some shelves primarily only having that with the rest filled with classics you recall him mentioning to you in passing.

The sound of ice shaking forces your attention back to Marcus whose focus was primarily in making your drink. From the corner of your eye, you see he has his sleeves rolled up his forearm, his bicep flexing as he holds the shaker in his broad hand, moving it with efficiency, a curl falling over his forehead from the effort. You look away when he pops the top off of the shaker, hoping he didn’t see you ogling him longer than you should have.

Playing clueless, your eyes land on a certain part of his book collection, titles relating to history and the world catching your eye, global wars and conquests amongst other things. You were too busy scanning the spines of the different books to notice Marcus observing you as he walked in your direction with a glass in each of his hands. Turning once you feel his presence by your side, you whisper a thank you and take your drink, tentatively sipping through the small straw he offered you, to taste the perfect mix of lime and aged rye.

“How is it? I eased up on the whiskey, figured you wouldn’t want something too strong.”

“You should’ve done bartending instead of real estate. Bet you would be a hit with the ladies, make a hell of a lot of tips.” Marcus chuckles, a pleasant sound that emits through him.

“Guess the mixing classes are paying off.”

A coltish smirk lands on your face in amusement, tilting your head to the bookshelf to grab his attention. “Wouldn’t take you as a history buff.”

“What can I say? I like learning about the world, the past shaping the present and influencing the future. Plus, it keeps me well rounded as one would say, pairs well with traveling.” You hum with a nod, pointing to a specific title you notice.

“SPQR: A History of Ancient Rome by Mary Beard. I was obsessed with Ancient Rome when I was a kid, well that and mythology. Sort of ironic considering you’re from there, you’d fit in.”

“It’s a special interest of mine, but I’m curious about the history of the general area, besides what’s been passed down by family members.” He states casually, letting you wander around a bit more before heading to the couch in his living room, his hand instantly holding yours as you step down into the sunken floor along the way.

With every sip of your cocktail, you find yourself more entranced by Marcus, your eyes drawn to the muscles in his arm contracting when he takes a gulp of his whiskey. Time flies by as you converse more with him, the ice melting in your glass as you sit your empty cup on the coffee table. Your heels are now somewhere scattered on the floor, legs folded over one another as you lean into the couch on your side, facing your date. He stays seated on the corner of the couch, body angled towards the fireplace and his legs spread with his hands on his leg as he listens to you talk.

“You never mentioned it, you know, why you’re on the app to begin with. You don’t seem like the kind of man to bother with this whole sort of thing.”

“And why do you think that?” He twists his head to look at you, curious in your reasoning.

“You’re too smart to be bullshitting around with anything, and I think relationships are the same. Something happened along the way, no?”

Ah, there it is, the feared question. Why was he on that app? Originally it was a joke, he wasn’t taking it seriously, and yet here he is, sitting on the couch with someone from a sugar daddy app of all places. He could lie to you, say he just wanted some company for the night just to save his own ass. But one look at your face and he knew the last thing he wanted to do was use the usual facade that fed the void in his chest. 

He pauses for a beat before finding his words.

“I was married for a few years. The divorce was finalized a few months ago, but feels like it happened way before that.”

“I’m sorry, Marcus.” Your palm flies to his knee in a supporting pat, the action not lost to him as warmth springs from your touch for a moment before taking it back.

“There’s nothing to apologize for. Things just didn’t work out, it wasn’t in the cards.” He fidgets with the ring on his right hand, a nervous tick he’s adopted over time as the air thickens in the room. Moving the spotlight from himself, he flips the question to you. “And what about you? Why were you on the app?”

“Honestly, I forgot I still had an account after doing this a few times, never really worked out in the past. I was about to deactivate my profile when I saw your super like. Didn’t want to pass up the opportunity, so I answered. Besides, I was curious about you.”

“You must’ve had hundreds of profile matches at that point.” You chortle under your breath.

“Oh, please. You open the app and it’s just all up in your face. It’s so…overwhelming. But if it’s any comfort, you were the only account I liked back.”

Marcus’ neck pivots to peer at you, sincere in your confession to him. He fights the urge to have his lips curve upwards, instead he shifts his gaze back down to the floor with a shake of his head.

“You flatter me.”

“I’m serious,” you jest, straightening your back and jokingly slapping his bicep. “You’re sitting here acting like you didn't have hundreds of likes coming out of the woodworks.”

“Seeing that high number took me off guard, I’m surprised my phone didn’t glitch from it and I was spared from getting a headache. But I didn’t really care much for the rest. I liked your account and turned my phone off, called it a day.”

Your eyes bore on to Marcus’ face, staring at him incredulously. “You didn’t.”

“I did. Lots of beautiful women on there, don’t get me wrong. However, I’m more particular about what I like.” He ogles at you, as if he needed to make it any more obvious he found you attractive. The thought brings heat to your cheeks, the alcohol doing wonders to lower your inhibitions.

Your sight detours to his hand where his thumb runs over the emerald signet ring on his pinkie, your curiosity getting the best of you.

“What’s with the ring?” You jut your chin out to point to the shiny piece of jewelry.

“Family heirloom. Been in my family since my grandfather, went to my father, and now passed down to me. Just something I mess with often.”

“Can I see it?” You move your hand towards him, suggesting that you want to see the emerald piece up close.

Marcus offers you his hand, your fingers grazing his palm as you look at the ring. He tries his best not to think too much about the way your touch feels, how your soft fingers sweep his calloused ones as you examine the way the ring circles around his thick digit, running your thumb over the emerald stone at the center.

To his disbelief, you bring his hand to your cheek, his knuckles caressing over your jaw and ear before guiding it towards your neck. The knuckle of his pointer finger rasps the front of your throat and the divot of your collarbone, your fingers circling his wrist and slowly bringing his touch down the middle of your chest. His heart pounds in his ribs when you drag his hand over your midriff before placing it on your waist, comfortably laying on your hip and he gives you a nervous squeeze.

Swiftly, you shift your position on the couch, bending on your knees to crawl towards his lap. Marcus watches you the entire time, leaning backwards and letting you get situated with zero protest. The end of your dress rides up your thighs slowly, your hands on his chest, sensing the tension radiating off of him in waves. He keeps both of his hands on your waist, his head angled back to hold your gaze, concealing the groan that threatens to escape from feeling your body over his.

“Is this okay?” You ask, seeing him nod. “Marcus…” you entice him with a whisper, leaning towards him, the tips of your noses edging together. “I really want to kiss you.”

Marcus’ eyebrows shoot up to his forehead as he gawks at you, slightly tipsy from your earlier drink coursing through your veins. He’s considerate enough to keep his hands on your waist, holding you steady as you stare at him with stars in your vision.

“Can I kiss you? Please?” You press yourself against him, one hand on his chest as your words captivate him. His focus lingers in your hazy eyes, then drifts to your lips, watching how they part subconsciously with every breath. Succumbing to his desires, he nods again, and you tip forward to slot your mouth over his.

It’s the lightest of pecks, brief and sweet enough to not overwhelm either of you, a test of boundaries. You briskly pull away, carefully watching Marcus’ reaction, reading his body language to see whether or not he wants to pause or keep going. He squeezes your waist, and that is all the initiative you need to kiss him again.

With a faint grin, you offer him another peck, then another, and another. After every kiss, the gloss on your lips fades and transfers to his mouth, and by the fourth peck, he pinches your chin and brings you forward to kiss you with more intention. Your body ignites with the prolonged feel of his mouth against yours, the curve in your spine deepens and your hands move on their own.

Marcus lets you lead him into the kiss, following your pace and sighing in content when your fingers thread through the hair on his nape, tugging the strands a little to angle his head differently. A groan rumbles in his chest from your touch, taking advantage of this position and teasing your tongue over his bottom lip, signaling you want to taste more of him.

Granting you passage, his mouth opens to welcome your tongue, curling around his own and keeping your grip on him. Slanting your head to the side to get the right angle, your body inches nearer as your hips press over his. Without much thought, his hands move up your back, the feel of his palms a comfort against your heated skin, trailing lower to cup your ass. The action forces you to gasp, pulling away to find darkened brown eyes staring at you carefully and bringing his hands back to your waist, the start of an apology dying on his lips before you interrupted him. “It’s okay, Marcus. You can touch me.” You coax his hand down to your lower back, fingers intertwined with his and urging him to squeeze your tender flesh. “I want you to touch me.”

He doesn’t need any more convincing, the desire he’s been carrying all night dominates the rest of his self-doubt. Palming your ass with one hand and keeping the other on your side, he swoops in for another passionate kiss, more comfortable in initiating this time around. You simply let him have it, the edge of your dress riding up your thighs as your hips settle over his, the center of you pulsing after another greedy squeeze.

The need for his attention grows more ravenous as you sit prettily over his lap, carding your fingers through his graying strands. Discreetly, your hips hesitantly shift over his hips, feeling the evident bulge developing under your thigh. Marcus bites your bottom lip at your slight movement, pushing his hips closer to yours as his cock hardens in his slacks.

Plucking your lips away from his, you litter kisses over his cheek and the side of his jaw, nipping at the juncture where his jaw meets his neck. He grunts when you finally reach his neck, gliding your tongue over the vein that pulses along with the rest of him. Head thrown back on the edge of the couch, he lets you touch him however you want, kneading your rear with his thick fingers, skimming over more of your bare skin as your dress moves higher up your body. 

It all feels too good, the realization of just how touch deprived he is hits him like a ton of bricks. Here you are sitting on his lap, grinding against him in such a way he can feel your heat through his clothes, your scent wafting under his nose with your close proximity. It’s almost too much for him to take.

And he doesn’t want you to stop.

Controlling your movements over him, you adopt a steady rhythm gyrating your body against his thighs, his hands encouraging you with every push and pull. Your panties begin to stick to you, the gluttony enrapturing you growing to new heights as the erection hidden under expensive material twitches the harder you grind. Decorum out of the window, Marcus fantasizes what it must feel like to be between your legs; imagines if you taste just as sweet as you smell, or if your cunt would tighten and clench around him when he brought you to the edge over and over again until the only thing you remembered was his name.

His own imagination paired with your incessant humping forces his body to hit his peak prematurely, shuddering under you with a rasped groan. You’re stunned as his body betrays him, the bump in his pants deflating once the wave of pleasure is done washing over him, his grip tightening around your hips.

The air around you crackles despite the silence, stiff as you observe the man underneath you trying to catch his breath. You can tell he wasn’t expecting this to happen, much less to feel so much he ended up spilling in his briefs from a little bit of kissing and movement. His bearded cheeks are shaded with hints of pink and his eyes distantly off to the side, avoiding your observant gaze.

“Fuck, I am so sorry,” Marcus starts, the self deprecating thoughts running rampant in his head from his mediocre performance.

He curses himself, thinking he should’ve been better prepared for this, maybe jerked off before the date to begin with in hopes he would last longer. This certainly is a first for him, coming prematurely like a fucking teenager was not something he’s known for, and should be reason enough to bury him six feet under from the embarrassment.

“Don’t be. Honestly, it’s kind of flattering,” you affirm bashfully as the last bits of your arousal settle in your gut. “I think it’s hot.”

“Really?” Marcus flexes his eyebrows, seeking your reassurance.

“Feeling so good you just couldn’t help yourself? It’s sexy. I’ll take it as a compliment,” you express, kissing him sweeter than you had for the past thirty minutes. “I can clean you up if you want…”

Your hushed words make his cock twitch again despite already making a mess in his briefs. His mind is going into overdrive, envisioning you on your knees, pretty mouth wrapped around his length and your manicured nails handling the rest.

Next time.

“No, it’s alright. I’d rather repay the favor.” Sure, it might’ve appeared to be a form of damage control, but the reality is he’s developed a craving that only you could satisfy.

“You don’t have to Marcus, it’s fine really. I don’t mind.”

“I’m not the kind of man to leave a woman unsatisfied. Not in my character.” He kisses you again, reviving the same familiar pulse from between your legs. “Let me make you feel good.”

A whimper threatens to slip past your lips, but you swallow it down. From the way he kissed your lipstick off, you wondered what it would feel like to have his mouth on another part of you, granting you something you desperately needed since getting in the car from the restaurant. Reason had already left your mind a while ago, and your body spoke of your intentions before you confirmed them yourself, muttering an airy okay with a nod.

You barely register how smoothly he maneuvers you, the shift so seamless it feels like second nature. You’re sinking into the couch, your back meeting the plush cushions as he takes control.

Marcus doesn’t rush. He never does. Not in business, not in conversation, and certainly not in bed.

But right now, with you spread out on his couch, looking at him like you’re daring him to take whatever he wants, he feels something hungry unravel inside him.

He moves with intention, mouth against yours in a deep, passionate kiss. Your spine arches, breasts pressed up against his chest, fingers ghosting over his shoulders, clenching when he drags his lips from yours to your jaw, then down your neck.

You smell divine.

He lingers at your neck as he inhales against your skin, your perfume an aphrodisiac that disorients him, fogging his mind. It makes a groan vibrate deep in his chest, the sound sending goosebumps over your skin, your nipples hardening beneath the fabric of your dress.

Marcus cups your tits in his large hands, relishing the weight of them, the way they fill his palms so perfectly. He squeezes, kneading the satin-covered flesh, his thumbs dragging over stiffened peaks.

His deep exhale fans over your plump breasts before he continues downward, dragging slow, open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat. His facial hair grazes your skin, a delicious contrast to the softness of his lips.

He licks the swells of your chest, teeth nipping at the supple skin, making you yelp playfully and you can feel the small smirk that pulls at his lips before he moves lower, veiled brown eyes flitting up to your flustered face as his tongue mouths your nipple over the dress, biting down on it softly.

“You like that?” He asks, already knowing the damn answer, the satin dampening beneath his tongue as he flicks and sucks at the hardened bud.

“Yes, Marcus…” The breathy sigh of his name is like music to his ears, neck tilting back as your eyes flutter close when he repeats the action on your other breast, kneading its twin in his large hand.

“You are so gorgeous.”

He shifts again, going lower, pushing the skirt of your pretty dress up until it’s bunched at your waist. His palms are warm and firm as he trails kisses above your mound, teasing you with his descent. Your thighs twitch under his touch, anticipation buzzing through you like an electric current.

He spreads your legs wide, pushing them up to your chest and keeping you in the position he wants by pressing his hands to the back of your thighs near where your knees bend.

The sight of your barely covered sex is more erotic than if you had forgone the undergarment all together. Short, dark curls tease him over the flimsy hem of your panties and his cock stirs at the sight despite the mess he’s already made in his slacks.

“She’s real pretty.” His voice drops an octave, the rasp in it making the compliment sound wanton. Your hips move on their own ever so slightly, a natural reaction your pussy is having to his tone, chasing the sound.

Marcus hums, a quiet sound of appreciation, feeding off every little tic of yours. His lips part slightly, tongue rolling over them as his attention remains on your thong.

Thin black lace, skimpy. Practically useless.

His fingers toy with the waistband, slipping beneath it, testing the stretch. Then, with a little too much enthusiasm, he pulls and it gives, the sound of the fabric tearing setting you off even more.

He almost scoffs. The material of it feels expensive beneath his touch yet it rips so easily. He could easily buy you a hundred of these. Better.

Your eyes lazily find his and for a moment, there’s nothing but a silent exchange between you—a subtle tilt of your head, the slight arch of your brow, questioning. Are you really going to do it?

His smirk is slow, knowing. A dimple dents his cheek.

Yes.

And with that, he grips the lace and rips the damn thing off, throwing it over his shoulder. The ruined panties fall onto the coffee table behind him, forgotten.

Now you’re completely bare, the lips of your pussy spread from how he’s got your legs parted, sex aching and glistening beneath the dim opulent lighting. A perfect, needy mess just for him.

The soft trail of hair that leads down to your pretty cunt has Marcus leaning in, nuzzling his strong nose against you, inhaling the musky scent that lingers there, letting it invade his senses and seep into his bloodstream like an intoxicant. 

His tongue follows next, broad and slow, dragging up the length of the strip, savoring the contrast of coarse curls against the slick warmth of his mouth. The taste of you spreads across his tongue, earthy and sweet. You let out a drawn out moan, palms sinking into the couch as you attempt to ground yourself amidst the sensation.

“Shit,” the curse word is muttered, barely audible as you feel delirious from feeling him so close to where you need him. You don’t remember how long it’s been since you craved the touch of a man like this, and it doesn’t help that the alcohol you’ve been consuming all night is amplifying your lust.

Your pussy flutters involuntarily, a fresh trickle of sweet arousal slipping lower, trailing down to the curve of your ass.

Marcus is enraptured, taking in your exposed, creamy flesh, how your smell infiltrates his nose and it’s like his eyes gloss over with a carnal desire to devour you, eat you until you’re crying and begging him to stop.

He needs to reel it in, remind himself that it’s only the first night. He can’t overwhelm you too quickly, scare you away before he’s able to show you what he’s truly capable of. Of how good he can actually make you feel.

“So wet,” he mutters as he maps wet, open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs. His fingers sink into the soft, pliant flesh, squeezing, kneading—reverent in his touch. He drags his lips closer, his breath ghosting over your messy cunt, teasing but never quite giving.

“Hard to hold back when you’re spread out like this,” he murmurs, nosing against the sensitive crease where your thigh meets your core. “But fuck, sweetheart… I don’t think I want to.”

“Didn’t get the impression that you could hold back.” The timbre of your tone makes him pause, pulling away slightly to look at you properly.

“If I really let you have it…you’d already be begging me to let you breathe.”

The glint of amusement that flickers through your gaze is gone in a blink, replaced by unguarded desire.

“I can handle it.”

His smoldering stare rises to meet yours, narrowing just slightly, a silent challenge passing between you. His thumbs press into your skin as if testing the truth of your statement.

You’re bracing yourself beneath his touch, muscles tensing in anticipation, as if proving to him that your words aren’t just bravado. You mean them. You want this. You want him.

Good. He wants you to need this as badly as he does.

The first swipe of his tongue is slow, savoring, as if he’s tasting something forbidden, something he’s been denied for too long. But patience? That doesn’t last. It shatters the second he gets his first real taste, and the groan that rumbles deep in his chest is downright filthy.

Marcus is gone.

He buries himself into your pussy, tongue dragging flat up your slit before going taut and flicking up to your clit, testing what makes you gasp and elicit more of those sweet noises that fill his ears.

“Oh Marcus, just like that.” It’s as if he flips a switch that has your words pouring out. “You’re doing so good.”

Your praise melts into him, impassioning him. He’s been craving this kind of lust for years. It’s been too fucking long since he let himself indulge in his roaring sexual appetite.

He swirls your sensitive nub around with his tongue, sealing his lips around the pert flesh. He suckles on it, making out with your pussy, having you wail out like an aching woman.

Marcus thrives off the way your hips rock toward his mouth, groaning like he’s savoring a meal far more decadent than the dinner from earlier tonight.

Your heady and potent taste drowns his taste buds, clit pulsing against his tongue—all of it is enough to make him lightheaded. His big hands curl around your thighs, pulling you somehow closer, the friction of his nose and beard rubbing against your pussy making you keen and further lose yourself in the pleasure he is giving you.

“Fuck don’t stop, oh my god.” Your sounds turn pornographic, tugging at his hair while your other hand moves up to palm your own breast, the fabric of your dress slipping until your chest is exposed, nipples sensitive to the cool air.

The hand at your left thigh traverses up, nudging your hand out of the way and you let him grab a handful of your tit. The growl he emits vibrates against your sex as his fingers begin to roll and pull at the perky bud.

Marcus’ tongue then slips inside your fluttering entrance, fucking into you as his aquiline nose rubs your slick pearl.

The obscene sounds of his mouth working you over fill the room—sucking, slurping, the guttural groans that rumble from his chest every time he dives back in like he can’t get enough. Because he can’t. He’s drunk on you, addicted after only minutes, and the more you writhe beneath him, the more he loses himself in it.

Marcus. Marcus. Marcus. His name becomes a hymn as your orgasm looms, taunting you, threatening to end this beautiful, salacious act despite you wanting to live in this pocket of pleasure for the rest of the night.

You did not expect him to be this good or fucking eager. Most men treat a woman’s pleasure like an afterthought, something to be checked off a list before they roll over and chase their own release. But not him. He’s eating like he’s never going to get the chance again, showing you with every flick of his tongue, every messy, open-mouthed kiss to your cunt, exactly how much he enjoys this.

Your hand moves on instinct, covering his where it grips your breast, your nails raking over his knuckles and the sleek face of his expensive watch, dragging down until you can feel the veins running beneath his skin. His tongue doesn’t slow, doesn’t falter, even as you babble through a desperate plea.

“I’m right there, mmm don’t stop, please.”

You gyrate against his handsome face, claiming him in the messiest, most unceremonious way, coating his chin, his nose, those full lips that have been driving you insane all night. 

He can feel your desperation in how your fingers clench his hair or how your other hand moves to grip the back of the couch, back arching high off the cushions. You’re unraveling for him, and fuck, that just makes him want to push you further.

Marcus doesn’t need his fingers to make you come. Just his mouth. Just his tongue plunging into you, curling, lapping up everything you give him, working you until you’re trembling—until those soft gasps turn into ragged, broken moans.

And when you finally finish, when you sob his name like it’s the only thing you know, Marcus still does not stop.

He takes your orgasm, drinks it down, tongue still lapping at your sex as your thighs snap shut around his head, as if you’re trying to pull him deeper, to keep him there. And he lets you smother him, lets himself drown in you.

It’s overwhelming. Your vision blurs, lashes wet with tears, streaks of mascara and eyeliner running down your cheeks. You’re coming apart under the relentless assault of his mouth again, your second orgasm stretching, rolling, growing into something bigger than yourself.

“I—I—” The words tangle in your throat, lost in the heat of it all, stolen by the wicked, practiced flicks of his wet muscle. When he pulls back, it’s only to drag his tongue over his bottom lip, hollowing his cheeks and spitting filthily onto your throbbing cunt.

“Thought you could handle it?” He taunts before diving back in, both hands returning to keep you firmly against his face.

You can’t think straight, thoughts slipping through your grasp like water. “T-Too much, oh—” you attempt to pull your hips away, body writhing as if you were a possessed woman, the overstimulation of it all feeling like you’re burning from the inside out in the best way possible.

But Marcus keeps you locked down tightly, staring intensely up at you, letting the edges of his teeth graze along your sensitive clit. A white-hot jolt of sensation rockets up your spine and makes you scream so high-pitched, you’re sure the windows of his penthouse rattle from the force of it.

Your back bows violently, stiffening as the pleasure crashes over you, unexpected and devastating. Your release gushes out in a messy, sinful rush, soaking the lower half of his face. Marcus groans deeply, slurping it, shaking his head against your cunt to smear it all over, the primal feel of it all only intensifying with each drop of yours that he tastes. 

Only when you finally slump against the couch, spent and trembling, does he ease up, pressing lingering kisses to your clit, enjoying how your pussy twitches from coming so hard. A thin string of your essence clings to his lips as he finally—reluctantly—pulls back, breathing heavily, dragging the back of his hand across his slick beard.

The blissfully wrecked look on your face is one that’s going to be burned into the back of his eyelids for eternity. It’s in this moment; as he takes in your swollen lips, ruined makeup, and your ravished body, that something in him clicks. It makes Marcus recognize that whatever this is sprouting between you two is something he wants to continue to chase.

He flashes you a lopsided smirk, one that deepens when the single curl falls onto his forehead. Kisses are placed on each quivering inner thigh in an attempt to soothe the tremors still running through your body, before he begins his ascent, reversing the path that led him to the heaven between your legs.

The skirt of your dress is smoothed down with careful hands, his large fingers tugging the fabric into place, covering you as if he’s tucking away something precious. Then, with the same tenderness, he draws the neckline back over your chest. But his lips don’t stop their journey. They find your neck, trailing up to your jawline, the corner of your mouth—teasing—before finally claiming your lips.

The smell of your pussy clings to him as he kisses you passionately, making you taste yourself. It makes the kiss filthier, his mouth moving against yours with the same fervor he’d shown between your thighs. You whimper into him, feeling the lazy roll of his tongue as he takes his time with you. Neither of you wants to break the moment.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, still kneeling between your legs, his hand coming up to cradle your face, thumb grazing your cheek before tugging at one of the curls that’s slipped loose from your updo. “Taste so good, too.”

Your smile comes naturally—not coy, not calculated, but soft, bubbling over, breathless. There’s a twinkle in your eyes, and Marcus feels himself get lost in it, entranced by the way you look at him. If this is what he’s rewarded with every time he makes you come, then he’ll gladly do it over and over again.

“Thank you for not holding back,” you finally manage, your voice still wrecked, but carrying that teasing lilt. Your fingers weave into his curls, tugging lightly as you take him in—his dark, blown-out gaze, the shine of your slick still glistening on his beard. “Even if it looked like I was tapping out there for a second. You’ve got real magic in that mouth of yours.”

Marcus huffs out a laugh. “Thanks.” His brown eyes soften while he wipes the streaks of your makeup away with his thumb. You could stay like this all night, just looking, feeling, letting the attraction simmer until it boils over and you’re tangled in his sheets with his name on the tip of your tongue.

But you both know better. This is something to savor and let breathe, allowing chemistry to take the lead.

“Did you enjoy yourself tonight?”

“More than I anticipated.” 

The answer strokes something deep in his chest, an ego he rarely lets get the better of him. But with you? He allows it, just a little.

“I’d like to keep seeing you. If it wasn’t obvious.”

You sigh, still reeling from his ministrations, tilting your head, unable to stop drinking him in. “Same here. You are a very intriguing man, Marcus.”

“And you are a very fascinating woman.” He gently takes the wrist of the hand in his hair, bringing it to his lips, placing a kiss on your palm. It makes your heart stutter. “I’ll call the driver to take you home if you want to go freshen up.”

You raise an eyebrow, teasing, “Oh? You’re kicking me out?”

“If you want to stay, be my guest.”

The invitation lingers in the air between you, heavy with temptation. And it is tempting, yet despite the fact that he had his mouth buried between your thighs not even five minutes ago, you don’t want to lay all your cards on the table just yet.

“I’ll get out of your hair. My bed beckons me.” 

Marcus stands, offering his hand as he helps you to your feet, pointing you to the direction of the master bathroom. You feel the intensity of his gaze as you walk away, aware of how his eyes track the intentional sway of your hips. You can’t help but smirk.

Only when you disappear behind the door does he exhale, rubbing a hand down his jaw, feeling the sticky remnants of you still clinging to him. He glances at the ruined scrap of lace on the coffee table, sporting a smug smile of his own, grabbing his phone to call the driver.

Once your ride is handled, he moves around the space to gather your things, adjusting himself in his pants, cringing at the reminder of the mess that’s there. 

You emerge a few minutes later, face wiped clean, hair slightly more composed yet just as gorgeous, your legs carrying the delicious remnants of euphoria in every shaky step.

“Mailing you my doctor bill if this problem doesn’t go away anytime soon,” you joke, sinking onto the couch to slip your heels back on.

Marcus smirks, shaking his head as he watches you, holding your gathered belongings in his hands. “Think of it as a souvenir. Something to remember me by until we see each other again.”

“Yeah? And when will that be?”

“You tell me.”

You hum, pretending to consider as you rise to your feet, your body brushing just close enough to tempt. “I’ll have to check my schedule and get back to you.”

You reach for the delicate scrap of lace left abandoned on his coffee table. “You owe me a new pair, by the way.”

He chuckles, helping you slip into your jacket, then handing over your things. “That thing was on its last thread. Surprised it didn’t just dissolve off you with how soaked you got it.”

You roll your eyes, biting down on your lip as warmth creeps up your neck at the memory. He watches the way you react, the way your body still responds to him even now, and it only cements his need to see you again.

Guiding you out of the penthouse, he keeps conversation light, the easy chemistry between you both lingering like an unspoken promise. But the moment you step into the lobby, you feel the burn of the doorman’s knowing stare, his amusement barely concealed as he tips his head in greeting.

“Have a good night, miss,” he says, and you fight the urge to duck your head in embarrassment, thanking him quietly.

Outside, the cool Chicago night air wraps around you as a sleek black Escalade idles in the porte-cochère, waiting. Marcus, ever the gentleman, steps ahead to open the car door for you.

You stop just before getting in, looking up at him, your voice soft. “Thank you for tonight. I had a wonderful time—you’re great company.”

He grins. “Likewise, beautiful. I’m glad you didn’t deactivate your account when you did.”

Your heart flutters at that, and before you can second-guess it, you lean up on your toes, pressing a series of slow, lingering kisses to his lips. He hums against your mouth, his hand naturally finding its place on your waist, the metal of his ring grazing the fabric of your dress.

“Let me know when you make it home, alright?” he murmurs against your lips.

“I will.”

One last kiss, then you pull away, climbing into the backseat. You share a final, lingering glance through the open door.

“Good night, Marcus.”

“Good night, sweetheart.”

You smile, and with that, he shuts the door. The SUV pulls away, disappearing into the city streets, swallowed by the skyline. Marcus watches until you’re gone, your touch still burning against his skin, your scent still clinging to his shirt.

He exhales heavily, running his fingers through his hair before turning back toward the building.

“Have a good evening, sir?”

Marcus smirks, the memory of your body, your taste, your voice still fresh in his mind.

“The best I’ve had in a long time.”

[smutoperator]

Takin' All of Their Air

Hwang Yeji, Aeri Uchinaga (Giselle), Julie Han x Male Reader, 2 original chacaters

Tags: airtight, (lots of) anal, ass stacking, bukkake, couch sex, deepthroating, double penetration, facefucking, faces turning red, floor sex, mounting on top, orgy, out of breath, party, prone bone, (lots of) rimming, rough sex, sixsome, spanking, twerking

Word count: 5696

Yeji, Giselle, and Julie had just finished recording their performance of Toxic. The girls chatted with each other until Yeji suddenly received a message. "What happened?" Giselle and Julie ask her as they see her friend blush.

"My solo just got approved; I'll be debuting soon," Yeji answers. "Oh, that's incredible," Giselle replies. "I think we should throw a party," she continues.

"But we are going on tour soon," Julie warns them. Giselle remembers that's also the case for her, so she asks her friend.

"When are you gonna debut?" Giselle asks Yeji. "March," Yeji answers. "Damn, our tours will be on the way; we won't be around," Julie says. "We need a plan; I still want her to celebrate with us," Giselle says.

"Girls, I've got a plan; let's do it tomorrow," Yeji says. "Alright," Julie replies. "Done," Giselle says as well. On the next day, the girls go to the house Yeji has indicated to them.

"Hello," Yeji greets Giselle and Julie as they arrive. Some black balloons cover the walls, matching the theme of her solo. Yeji pops a bottle of champagne, serving Giselle and Julie as well. "Our special guests will be coming soon," she tells them.

"Hmmm, what kind of special guests?" Giselle asks. "You're always curious, Gigi, just let them come," Yeji answers her. "Oh, I hope we are gonna have a good party tonight," Julie adds.

The girls chat a little bit more, waiting for the guests arrival. "It's taking a really long time," Giselle says. "Don't worry, they already texted me; they are coming soon," Yeji answers her as the girls keep playing with each other and chatting about some really naughty stuff.

The trio of guests finally arrive, you leading your two friends Danny and Johnny as the girls wait on the couch. "Show me your gifts," Yeji says. Giselle and Julie don't get it at first, as you three don't have anything in hand. "What kind of gift is she talking about?" Julie asks.

But soon, the girls get the answer as your cock pops out of your pants, and soon Danny and Johnny also follow suit. "Hmmm, so that was the gift she was talking about," Giselle says.

"Let's go, girls; there is no better way to celebrate a debut than a sex party," Yeji says as she quickly starts bobbing her head on your cock and choking on it. Giselle and Julie follow suit, gagging on Danny's and Johnny's dicks, respectively.

The party has begun; the beautiful shot of three girls bending over on the couch and sucking their partners cocks is an amazing way to start it. While Giselle and Julie take it slow at first, Yeji quickly shows her prowess as a deepthroat queen, taking your cock all as deep as possible in her mouth and moving it hard up and down your shaft, pushing you to the edge right from the get-go.

"You seem really hungry, feeling really motivated by that solo debut, aren't you?" you ask Yeji, who obviously doesn't answer as she turns her whole attention into sucking that enormous pole. "Shake that ass for me," you tell her, Yeji wiggling that tail as she bobs her head on your shaft.

"Your partners got some great asses; you really never miss when it comes to selecting your sexiest friends to join you," you tell Yeji as you take a peek from above at Giselle and Julie's butts almost popping off their pants, while Yeji gets louder and louder with her mouth.

"FUCK," the first cursing of the night comes from Giselle as Danny spanks her fat ass. If you noticed Yeji's friends packed butts, it wouldn't take long for your friends to notice it as well.

Yeji gets on her knees on the floor and sucks your cock louder than ever, harder than ever. "You really like a big microphone in your mouth, don't you? That's why you wanted to debut solo so much," you tell her. Giselle and Julie look from afar, watching her suck your cock and thinking that she must be crazy, quickly trying to follow Yeji's footsteps.

"AHHHH," Giselle loses her breath as you fuck her face while she takes your cock deep in her throat, losing her air for a bit while saliva comes out of her mouth. Julie lines up to her side, taking on Johnny's cock with her perfect dick-sucking lips but still taking it at a very slow pace, Giselle soon joining them as she takes on Danny.

"Suck my balls, slut," you command to Yeji as she makes a mess under your sack, closing her eyes and taking it all in her mouth. "Oh shit," you groan, and so does Johnny as Julie now gives him a no-hands blowjob, still very far from Yeji's sheer insanity, as the new soloist in town takes your cock literally balls deep in her mouth, you shoving your shaft and balls down her throat and making the so-called deepthroat queen gag for real for the first time.

Julie watches the mess Yeji makes on your cock, using it as motivation as she deepthroats Johnny. "It's getting so fucking wet," Julie tells him. Well, not as wet as yours, as Yeji is already turning her face into a mess full of spit. "Look at me and tell me how much you love that cock," you command to her.

"Oh, I love it so much; I can't wait to have it in all my holes," Yeji says. "Then show me," you tell her, fucking her face one more time while Julie has fun with Johnny's balls to her side. "Damn, such a hungry slut," you tell her.

Giselle soon joins the fun, letting Danny shove his cock down her mouth, him grabbing her neck and making her deepthroat it. "Take it, baby, come on," Danny tells her, trying to shove his 9-inch cock plus his balls in Aeri's hungry mouth. On the other side of the room, Yeji is so hungry she has made your pants come completely off, finding ways you didn't even know were possible to suck your cock.

"There you go, baby, take all those fucking balls," Danny says, praising Giselle's cock-sucking skills as she chokes on his dick. "You want it inside you?" he asks her, Giselle answering by nodding her head positively. "Then get it fucking wet," he tells her, shoving it even harder as Giselle's face is the next one to get full of spit.

Giselle's face turns red as Danny's cock in her mouth quickly takes all her air out. The party has just begun, yet she's already losing her senses, slapping his big cock all over her face as she dives for his balls too. "This is the best cock ever," she says, and she's definitely not saying it for the sake of it.

Yeji keeps the insanity going on as she strips you fully naked. You do the same to her, leaving only the fishnets she's wearing under her pants. Your balls are all over her pretty face as she now dives to rim your asshole, not satisfied with the mess she already made on your cock.

"Who told you to eat my fucking ass?" you tell Yeji, regaining control and pushing her face against the couch, plowing it. "I'm gonna take all your fucking air," you tell her, climbing on top of the couch and manhandling her slutty throat, making your huge sword bulge it while her perky tits jiggle with your thrusts.

"Look at her taking all that cock," Julie says about Yeji, pushing Johnny to the couch right by your side as she rims his ass and takes off his and her clothes. "AHHHH," Yeji screams as your cock pops out of her mouth for a bit, her moving her hands towards her pussy to start fingering herself.

Giselle is the last to take her clothes off, the three girls now wearing matching fishnets. Danny can't resist the urge and quickly rips her apart, unveiling Gigi's big fat butt in all its glory. "Oh yeah, look at this fucking ass," he says, marveled, as he starts fingering her anus.

The craziness continues on the other side. Julie tongues Johnny's ass deeper and deeper while you challenge Yeji to take on your cock as deep as possible. "OH FUCK, GOD DAMN IT!" Yeji screams. As Julie stays on all fours, Danny rips her fishnets too, Julie starting to do her signature twerk as soon as her ass is out in the open, while he gives her pussy a little massage.

You take Yeji's air out one more time before taking advantage of all the saliva she left on your cock to open the works by sticking it on Julie's juicy booty, sliding it with ease. "OHHHHH," the Hawaiian girl suddenly screams as she finds your meat stuffed in her asshole. "OHHH FUCKK, AHHHH, OH SHIT, OH MY GOD," she suddenly starts screaming as you drill her ass with no regard, mounting on top of the little big butt cutie while Yeji watches.

"Damn, he's really hungry," Yeji says as you pound Julie's ass. "And I bet you're hungry to taste it," you tell Yeji, finishing the quick fuck to feed your cock straight back in her mouth. "Very dirty, isn't it?" you ask as you impale her throat, Yeji only nodding.

Giselle opens the works on the other side, riding a still-clothed Danny as she sits her pink pussy on his cock, working her big ass out as she rides him. "OH FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK," she moans as his 10-inch monster stretches her cunt out. Julie soon follows suit, taking Johnny in her pussy and twerking her ass, her fast bounces contrasting with Giselle's powerful squats.

"OH SHIT, YES, DO IT LIKE THAT," Julie screams as Johnny spanks her ass while she rides him. "OH DAMN, I'M SO FULL OF COCK," Giselle also screams as she increases the pace of her ride on Danny. Only you and Yeji stay on the throat game, but really, given her crazy cock-sucking skills, it's hard to blame you.

"Look at your friends; I think it's time for you to sit on my fucking cock too," you tell Yeji, ripping her fishnets in one go. "God damn it, you're so fast," she tells you. By her side, Julie keeps riding, her cheeks turning red as Johnny can't seem to stop spanking her fat ass.

"It's not as big as your slutty friends but still a great piece of work," you say to Yeji about her ass as she rides your cock. "OH SHIT, FUCK," Yeji moans as your massive meat impales her cunt, her and Julie bouncing side by side. "Damn girl, you're really fast with that bounce," Yeji says to Julie.

Yeji picks up the pace, you spanking her ass so you two match Johnny and Julie, both couples working hard to see who can fuck the hardest. You two spread their cheeks, pushing their bodies down and sucking their perky tits while pounding them from down low.

"OH MY GOD, HOLY FUCK!" Yeji moans as you pound her. Julie quickly moves to the next challenge, letting Johnny take her in the ass too after you opened it up first, showing why she's the next anal queen in town. Finally, Giselle is rimming the hell out of Danny, getting him ready for his turn to finally fuck her ass.

"FUCK THAT ASS LIKE THAT," Julie begs as Danny stuffs her butt. You do the same but to Yeji's pussy, pounding it harder than ever and then letting her bounce hard. "I want you to stretch that big fat ass," Giselle tells Danny, turning around as she stuffs his 10-inch monster up her butt like a pro, riding it in reverse cowgirl and giving him the best possible angle of her big fat butt getting impaled.

"YES, BABY, STRETCH MY ASS, SHIT, THAT FUCKING DICK IS SO BIG," Giselle moans as Danny pumps her ass upward. "FUCK, I LOVE IT SO MUCH, AHHHHH," she moans as Danny's pounding quickly makes her lose her breath. "FUCK, FILL ME WITH THAT BIG DICK," Giselle begs.

Yeji and Julie switch partners; the Itzy girl is now bouncing her pussy on Johnny's cock while you impale Julie's pussy, wrapping your arms around the Hawaiian girl and fucking her pussy as she twerks nonstop on your cock. Giselle lies on the couch, letting Danny pound her in her favorite position, prone bone.

"I NEED YOUR FUCKING COCK IN MY ASS, PLEASE, PLEASE," Giselle begs as Danny stuffs her asshole one more time, using her big butt as a pillow while landing his hard thrusts. "OH MY GOD, I LOVE, USE ALL MY FUCKING HOLES, TREAT ME LIKE A FUCKING SLUT, I'M THE BEST WHORE YOU'LL EVER FIND," Giselle tells him as Danny takes turns between her ass and her pussy.

"DESTROY ME, PLEASE," Giselle continues to beg as Danny keeps pounding. Back to you, Julie now deepthroats your cock, tasting her wet cunt from it and bobbing her head on your massive pole while Yeji continues to ride Johnny. Julie shows you how nasty she can be, getting down on the floor and tonguing your asshole as you jerk your cock off, sending you to the heavens. "FUCKKKK," you groan as Julie's magic tongue hits your anus, sweeping it to the fullest, her twerking her ass while eating yours.

"GIVE ME MORE OF THAT BIG FUCKING DICK," Giselle begs as her prone bone session keeps going. Yeji grabs Johnny's cock, letting him be the first to take her in the ass. Meanwhile, you pin Julie against the couch and give her a hard mating press as you top her tiny body, destroying her big butt as all three girls now compete to see who can get fucked the best in their asses.

"YEAH, YEAH, YEAH, PLEASE GIVE ME ALL," Julie begs as you pound her ass hard. "YOU'RE GONNA MAKE ME CUM, OHHHHH, FUCK," she keeps screaming as your balls clap her cheeks hard. Danny spanks Giselle's butt hard, choking her as he now switches to her pussy. Meanwhile, your anal destruction of Julie just ramps up, her asshole getting used like a fleshlight as your cock fucks it balls deep.

The sounds of their three butts getting spanked fill the room as the anal pounding of Yeji, Giselle, and Julie continues, each girl's cheeks turning redder and redder. Julie gets even nastier as you let her stop to taste her ass from your cock before her little body ducks under your legs and tongues your anus one more time. "You're getting good at this," you tell her, fucking her face as a reward.

Giselle squirts all over the couch as you and Johnny swap partners once again, you taking your cock right from Julie's ass back to your favorite hole: Yeji's meaty pussy. "Damn, he spanked you really good," you say to her as you notice her very red cheeks. Julie does to Johnny what she did to you, showing her evolving rimming skills on his asshole this time.

"Go fuck her," Danny tells Johnny as they swap Giselle and Julie between themselves, while you attack Yeji's cunt at full speed, sucking her perky tits while she creams all over your cock. Julie moves in Giselle's direction, sitting on her face and suffocating Gigi with her fat ass as she watches Johnny fuck her.

Meanwhile, Yeji is about to get her air taken out once again.

"OH SHIT, THAT DICK IS SO BIG!" Yeji screams hard as Danny's monster cock finds its way into her ass. You and he work in perfect sync, fucking her holes together to perfection right from the start, giving her the pounding she deserves. "Is that what you want for your party, isn't it?" you ask Yeji as she gets double stuffed.

"OH FUCK, OH MY GOD, OH SHIT, THESE COCKS ARE SO FUCKING BIG" is all Yeji can say as she gets her pussy and ass destroyed at the same time, just ducking her head and bracing herself for the wreckage your cock and Danny's impose in her holes. "OH GOD DAMN IT, OH SHITTTT," Yeji screams again as both girls enjoy her getting double penetrated. "Yes, destroy her," Julie says as he watches. Meanwhile, Johnny is having a good time just switching between Giselle's already heavily stretched-out holes nonstop, surveying to see which one he can go deeper.

Julie gets taken by surprise as Danny switches from Yeji's ass into hers, becoming the first one to take on all three assholes. You quickly fill the void, taking your cock on Yeji's ass while Julie gets spit-roasted. "Let's destroy this fucking asshole," Danny tells her. "OH FUCK," Julie screams.

"You're such a fucking bitch," Johnny tells Giselle, hitting her face as he fucks her ass. Julie gets in the couch, Danny pounding her in a spooning position while you drag Yeji around. "OH MY GOD, IT'S SO HUGE, YES," Julie screams as she gets her ass pounded from behind.

"GIVE IT TO ME, GIVE IT TO ME," Yeji begs as she gets on all fours as you hand her to Johnny to fuck her ass next, turning your attention to Giselle for the first time. You quickly show your prowess, choking Gigi and attacking her ass with fast-paced thrusts. Johnny pins Yeji against the couch, mounting on top of her while Danny keeps drilling Julie with his big dick. "OH GOD DAMN IT," Yej screams as she gets pounded like crazy.

Back to you, Giselle kneels down and becomes the final girl to have a taste of your asshole. "If you want me to fuck your asshole more, you better taste mine," you tell her as Giselle quickly obliges and goes down that dirty hole with her tongue.

As Johnny feeds his cock for Yeji to taste, you let Giselle mount on top of yours, taking her pussy first. "Twerk on that dick," you ask her with a little spank on her big butt, Gigi obliging as she is soon riding it like a maniac, you enjoying her bouncing on your cock while Johnny drills Yeji by your side. "OH FUCK ME LIKE THAT," the party host screams as he does a number in her ass.

Giselle's hard bounces on your cock are like an earthquake; she's really strong, and her cheeks hit hard against your crotch every time she takes your full length deep in her cunt. "GIVE IT TO ME, BABY," Giselle begs, matching your thrusts with bounces of her own. By your side, Yeji turns into a squirting machine, fingering her cunt as Johnny pounds it while groping her perky tits, her legs shaking. "ME ME CUM, OH MY GOD, YEAHHHH," Yeji screams, Julie right there to taste the juices erupting from her cunt.

You and Danny decide to do more teamwork, double stuffing Giselle this time. "FUCK, TWO BIG DICKS INSIDE ME, I LOVE IT," Gigi screams as she becomes subject to the same hard DP you two gave Yeji earlier in the night. "AHHHH FUCK, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, THESE COCKS ARE SO FUCKING HUGE," Giselle screams.

"Don't back down; take those fucking cocks balls deep, you big ass bitch," you tell Giselle as you and Danny increase the pace inside her fuckholes, pumping her like a pair of pistons. "USE MY FUCKING HOLES," Giselle begs as the DP gets more and more intense, both you and Danny grabbing her neck.

Meanwhile, Johnny is in heaven, having the four holes of two girls at his disposal. "Fuck her, Johnny," Yeji tells him as Julie stacks her juicy booty on top of her body; Johnny happily obliges, switching between Yeji's butt and Julie's nonstop. "AHHHH FUCK," Julie screams, shaking her ass as she gets pounded, Yeji smiling as she watches.

"Feed me that cock, let me taste that ass," Yeji says as Johnny gives her his cock, Yeji bobbing her head all over it like usual and giving him the lube he needs to fuck Julie's big ass. By their side, Guselle gets spit-roasted, impaling her face on your cock while Danny spanks her big ass and fucks her pussy, putting her arms behind her back. "Eat my ass too, you fucking bitch," you tell Giselle, moving your body for her to rim your asshole.

Julie twerks on top of Johnny, Yeji coming in to get his cock wet from time to time and get her face fucked. "GULP, GULP, GULP, GULP," the sound comes out of Yeji's mouth, Julie turning her face around to watch. "Suck that dick," she commands, enjoying Yeji's face getting impaled before shoving that prick straight into Julie's ass. "OH MY GOD," Julie screams, as Yeji doesn't go for long without a cock to play with, Danny plugging her ass next.

"You fucking cock is so fucking huge," Yeji says as Danny takes the air out of her. On the other side, you're mounting on top of Giselle, destroying her fat ass with powerful thrusts. Each girl now does what he does best: Giselle getting pounded from behind, Julie twerking on Johnny's cock, and Yeji deepthroating Danny's 10-inch meat.

"FUCK, THAT'S SO AMAZING, USE ME LIKE A FUCKING WHORE," Giselle begs as you destroy her ass with all your strength, your cock attacking it nonstop and turning her into your personal anal fleshlight, her big butt getting clapped like crazy as you top her like a raging bull. "Hmmm, hmmm, hmmm," you groan. "I wanna fuck that ass for the rest of my life," you tell her.

You give Giselle a little break and watch her go insane, her taking Johnny and bobbing her head on his cock. "Looks like she's cock-drunk," you say, watching the scene unfold as Giselle suddenly lifts him up and sucks his cock up in the air before flipping him upside down. "WHAT IS SHE DOING?" Julie asks, giggling. "GIGI, ARE YOU CRAZY?" Yeji asks her, baffled at what she's seeing, the two then diving to take on his cock too.

"Oh my God, Gigi is a champ," Julie says as the girls watch her get cock-drunk on Johnny before taking some turns themselves. You feed your cock to Yeji, giving her privileged first dibs on tasting Giselle's ass while Danny goes for another round on it, taking the Japanese girl in a spooning position. "OH FUCK," Gselle screams as his big cock is back inside her sore ass.

"FUCK, FUCK, YOU'RE DESTROYING MY ASS, GOD DAMN IT, YOU'RE FUCKING ME SO GOOD." Giselle screams as Danny claps her cheeks hard. On the other side, you continue your raging bull spree, mounting on top of Yeji this time. "AHHHHHH," the party host screams, your cock feeling too big for her tiny little ass sometimes despite all her experience. You take turns fucking her ass and her face, being rough at all times.

"God, I love your dick," Giselle tells Danny as he keeps fucking her. Meanwhile, you go all-in to tame the wild wolf Yeji, giving her the same anal mating press you gave Julie early on, but this time pushing even harder. "FUCK, FUCK, OH MY GOD, IT'S SO DEEP, YOU'RE PUSHING IT SO HARD," Yeji screams, her face turning redder and redder at each thrust. "YOU KEEP TAKIN' ALL OF MY AIR, AHHH, AHHH, AHHH," she moans as your anal invasion of her continues, as you can't slow yourself, pumping her ass 258 times.

The more Yeji loses her sight, the harder you fuck her; she's nothing but your fucktoy, as you put her feet up in the air and let Julie use it to muffle her moans as Johnny gets back in her ass. "Smack that cock against my face; I love it so much," Giselle begs Danny as he uses his meat as a stick to shove it all over her face. "Choke me too," she continues to beg as he shoves it down her throat as well.

Yeji, Giselle, and Julie's faces turn redder and redder, but they can't stop sucking cock. You grab Julie's face now, making her deepthroat your meat. "Get on the floor," you tell her. But Julie decides to do something better, stacking her body on top of Giselle's as both girls present their big asses for your wet cock. Meanwhile, Yeji takes on Johnny, riding his cock all by herself.

Julie twerks her ass in anticipation, shaking it as she stays on top of Giselle, their holes already heavily stretched out but ready for more, as their assholes wink for you. "AHHHHH," Julie screams as you pound her butt first, attacking it relentlessly before switching to Giselle's. The two girls moan and scream, as your anal rampage makes them see stars.

"OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD!" Julie screams when her next turn arrives. You then go back to Giselle, clapping her cheeks hard and making her scream. Then back to Julie. "Shake your ass, slut," you tell her as Julie bounces on top of Giselle.

"OH FUCKKKK," Yeji screams as she squirts on the couch with Johnny fingering her cunt as he fucks her ass. You keep taking turns between Julie's and Giselle's fat asses, both girls begging you to fuck them even harder. Julie pleads to god while Giselle screams about the size of your dick as you keep pounding their asses.

While you keep having fun with Giselle and Julie's butts, Danny and Johnny turn their attention to Yeji, double stuffing her for the second time in the night. "OH SHIT, DON'T STOP," Yeji screams as she gets double penetrated on the couch again. "OH MY GOD, ALL THAT FUCKING COCK STRETCHING ME OUT," she moans. "YOU GUYS ARE SO FUCKING BIG," she keeps screaming.

"Make her go airtight," Giselle tells you as you switch back to Yeji, feeding your cock into her mouth. "AIRTIGHT, AIRTIGHT, AIRTIGHT," the other girls clap their hands and chant as Yeji gets stuffed in all her holes. "Take all this cock, you fucking bitch," you tell Yeji.

As Yeji's DP session comes to an end, you sit on the couch, Julie going back to rim your ass. "You really like that asshole, don't you?" you ask Julie as she ducks down. "Come back up," you tell Julie, sticking your cock back in her pussy and letting her show you the power of her twerking, bouncing her ass hard on your cock.

"Come here, Danny; her asshole is begging for more cock," you tell one of your friends, who promptly obliges and sticks his cock on Julie's wide-open butthole, making her the final girl to join the DP fun. "FUCKKKK," Julie screams as both your cocks pump her like a piston, clinging to Giselle's tits in her sight while both her holes get destroyed.

"FUCK ME LIKE THAT, HARDER, DON'T STOP," Julie begs as she gets double stuffed. "How do these cocks feel?" Giselle asks her. "SO FUCKING AMAZING, Julie answers, screaming as both of you stuff your cocks all the way deep in her. "OH MY GOD, YOU FUCK ME SO HARD, I'M NOT GONNA BE ABLE TO SHIT FOR A WEEK," she screams as the pounding only gets harder. "Take those dicks; show them you're an anal and DP queen," Giselle pushes her as Julie starts rolling her eyes, her holes getting sore as both your cocks attack them hard, more so than you ever did to Yeji and Giselle.

Julie's DP is over, but you guys still want more. "We aren't finished with you yet," Danny says, spanking her ass. "You said we aren't gonna shit for a week; how about we make it a month?" you tell her, letting Danny start first for another round of rough anal pounding. "OH MY GOD, THAT DICK IS SO FUCKING BIG, AHHHH," Julie screams as Danny sticks his 10-inch prick balls deep in her.

"She's got such a nice asshole; no wonder you guys want to fuck it so hard," Giselle says. "You want more dick in there?" she asks Julie. "Yes," Julie answers as you're next to take a turn in her asshole, giving your characteristic mounting on top of her. "OH MY GOD, FUCKKK," Julie screams. "She really wants some dick," Giselle says, as she also watches Yeji get pounded in her pussy while Johnny chokes her.

"FUCK, THAT DICK IS SO GOOD," Julie screams as you keep pounding her. "GIVE ME MORE, POUND THAT PUSSY," Yeji begs to Johnny as well. Giselle giggles as she watches both her friends get fucked hard. "AHHHHH, AHHHH, AHHHHH," you turn Julie into a screaming machine, showing no mercy for her asshole, knocking her out of breath. "OH MY GOD, ALL THAT DICK IN MY ASS, IT'S SO LONG, IT'S SO BIG, OH FUCK," Julie screams as you wreck her asshole, toying with her massive gape. "FUCK, YES, YES, YES," she begs.

Giselle gets back into action as she sits on Johnny's cock. But you suddenly hit her by surprise. "OH SHIT, OH SHIT, SHIT, SHIT," she screams as you go from one big ass to another, sticking your cock in her butthole for another round of DP. "Fuck, I was so tired to be that anchor guy; I need to pound some ass too," you tell her as you carry your hard pounding of Julie into her.

"THAT'S IT, THAT'S IT, GOD, I LOVE IT, I LOVE IT, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, I LOVE GETTING TWO COCKS INSIDE ME AT THE SAME TIME," Giselle screams as you clap her cheeks hard, Johnny barely moving in her pussy as you do all the action, while Yeji watches.

"How about we do some riding competition next?" Yeji asks the girls after you and Johnny finish double stuffing Giselle. After the trio bends over on the floor a little to suck more cock and eat more ass, Yeji is the first to jump, ready to ride your cock in her ass as you spank her butt. "You really missed it, didn't you?" you ask her. "Oh definitely, she answers.

"Oh Jesus, put it in me, oh fuck," Yeji begs as she lets you pump her from down low, fingering her cunt while you grope her tits. "OH MY GOD, I LOVE THAT COCK, she moans. Giselle is next, riding on Danny's pole, then Julie as she takes on Johnny. The girls alternate between bouncing on the trio of cocks and getting pumped from down low, competing to see who can move faster and squirt the hardest. Yeji takes a little time to deepthroat your cock, almost making you cum, while Julie and Giselle bounce hard on the other guys.

It's been nearly an hour, and the girls are really exhausted at this point, but you keep pumping, attacking Yeji's ass as if things had just started. Julie twerks on Johnny's cock, getting her asshole stuffed one more time. "FUCKKK," Yeji screams as she's the next girl to feel the wrath of your cock when it comes to fucking an asshole, just floating in the air while she gets her guts rearranged by your monster meat. Meanwhile, Giselle takes Danny in her pussy but lets him first in her stretched-out butthole while she rides his prick.

"OH GOD," Yeji screams as you clearly seem to be the most committed of the three guys to ass-fucking all the girls until they are sore. After a while, the girls keep taking a break, but you only transfer your wrath from Yeji's ass to her face, fucking it hard before finally letting her lick your balls. Everybody seems to be on their last legs except for you, showing formidable stamina to pound the party host's asshole, putting Yeji in a spooning position for one more round of drilling.

"MAKE ME SCREAM, BABY, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, DAMN IT, YES," Yeji screams and curses as you pound her ass nonstop, her cheeks redder than ever. You then switch to her pussy, pushing her body in your direction and continuing the fucking, her getting out of air the longer you fuck her.

"Let's go to the floor for one last round," Giselle tells the girls. Julie is the first to take it, getting on all fours on the floor as she lets Johnny fuck her ass. Giselle is next, getting on her favorite prone bone position. Yeji is busy with your balls for a bit but finally follows them.

The three girls get pounded side by side on the floor. They have taken so much cock over the past hour their entire bodies are red after screaming and moaning for so long. You three are also very close to cumming, barely able to hold it for long.

"FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, YES, YES, YES, FUCK OUR ASSES, YEAH, YEAH, YEAH!" the girls scream together. "Where should we cum?" you ask them. "How about you cum all over our host Yeji?" Giselle asks.

"YEJI, YEJI, YEJI," Giselle and Julie start to chant as the guys finish fucking and point their cocks towards the Itzy leader and soon-to-be soloist. She licks Johnny's balls and soon makes him become the first to blast his load in her face. "Feed me with that fucking cum," Yeji says as he glazes her face, letting Julie and Giselle taste his cock afterward. You come next, delivering a bullseye cumshot to Yeji that spills into Julie, Danny finishing with a strong cumshot that spills into Giselle's face.

"Share with us," Giselle and Julie ask Yeji as they stare at her bukkaked face. Yeji happily obliges, letting them clean her cum-filled face while she kisses them, you guys watching and enjoying the scene between the three.

The party is finally over; each girl heads back to their home. As Julie and Giselle embark on their group's tours, Yeji prepares the final touches of her solo, not seeing you for many months until she finally gets to hold her debut showcase and spots you.

"I missed you," you tell her.

"Let's pick up right where we left off. I want you takin' all of my air," she says.

[hhaechansmoless]

OFF THE GRID [TEASER]

pairing: f1driver!scoups x ex!femreader

genre: angst, romance, exes to lovers au, childhood bestfriends / neighbours au

description: Part of the Beyond The Grid series. Four-time world champion Choi Seungcheol has spent years at the top with Ferrari, but as the 2025 season drags on, he can’t shake the feeling that he’s not quite where he used to be. The competition is catching up, his team isn't what it used to be, and for the first time, he’s starting to wonder if he’s past his prime. By the time the season winds down, he finds himself back in his hometown, which isn't quite the same either. But the hardest race was never on track, and sooner or later, he’ll have to figure out what comes next.

warnings: strong language, stressful situations, descriptions of car crashes and physical exhaustion, f1 heavy, miscommunication

teaser w/c: 1.3k fic w/c: 46.5k . Part 1

glossary

a/n: While it is not required to read Lights Out to understand what's going on here, the first half of this fic runs parallel to it. I personally had fun writing the parallels, oh you know, the downfall of one, rise of another. If you've read lights out though, you probably know how this weekend ends, but shush! LMAO. This one's run longer than I expected it to, so it'll be divided into three parts. Again, the glossary helps, so do read it! you can sign up for the taglist here !

ITALY, AUTODROMO NAZIONALE MONZA

Saturday, Qualifying

The roar of the Tifosi is deafening, even from inside the garage.

Seungcheol sits in his cockpit, helmet still on, hands resting lightly on the wheel as the mechanics swarm around his car, making final adjustments. The session clock is still running, but for now, he’s stationary—P3 on the leaderboard, a tenth ahead of Jaehyun.

Outside, Monza is alive.

The Tifosi are everywhere, packed into every inch of the grandstands, a sea of red that stretches as far as the eye can see. Flags whip through the air, massive banners draped across the stands, their messages bold and impossible to miss. Monza is one of the circuits where the grandstands are sold out even during qualifying. There’s something different about this place. Something that doesn’t exist at any other circuit, something even the best drivers struggle to explain. It’s not just the speed, the history, the track itself. It’s this. The weight of expectation. The way Ferrari doesn’t just belong to the team—it belongs to the people. To the thousands in the stands who live for this weekend.

Usually, Monza is Seungcheol’s favourite track. He’s set impressive records here before and the energy of the crowd is always motivating.

Even through the layers of his helmet, his balaclava, and the deafening sounds of the other cars on the track, he hears them chant his name.

At least they haven’t given up on me.

His fingers tighten slightly around the wheel.

He sits in P3 for now. Ahead of Jaehyun, but still behind a Red Bull. A Red Bull on pole.

At Ferrari’s home race.

It’s an insult to their team, a disgrace on their part.

His gaze flickers across the garage, past the blur of engineers watching the monitors, past the mechanics murmuring updates to one another. No one looks at him. Not directly. Not long enough for it to mean anything.

But they’re waiting.

They won’t say it, won’t dare to speak it aloud but he knows what they need from him.

They need him to take back Monza.

They need him to put Ferrari back where it belongs.

Like always. Funny that they need me, now that their new star driver can’t manage to fucking qualify above P5 when it actually matters.

His race engineer's voice cuts through his earpiece, slightly more alert now.

“Track is clear. Sending you out now.”

Seungcheol scoffs, a humorless laugh against the inside of his helmet.

Right. Of course they are.

He presses the clutch paddle, lets the engine roar back to life, and rolls out onto the pit lane.

The television flickers, the glow of the screen casting soft light across the dimly lit living room. You keep the volume as low as possible. Your parents are sleeping, and you wouldn’t want to wake them up because of the commentary at this ungodly hour. 

You hadn’t planned on watching qualifying. It had been a long day and the last thing you needed was to be up at one in the morning, wet hair dripping onto your t-shirt after a bath, on the edge of your seat as you watched your ex-boyfriend qualify for his team’s home race.

You should be asleep, but instead, you sit curled into the corner of your couch, staring at the leaderboard on the screen.

P3 – Choi Seungcheol.

The commentators have been talking about him all session. About how this weekend is crucial, about how Ferrari needs a strong result at their home race. About how Jaehyun is only P5 and how Seungcheol is the only Ferrari in a position to fight for pole.

The pressure is unbearable even from here, thousands of miles away. You can only imagine what it must feel like there, in the cockpit, in that worrying little head of Seungcheol’s.

The camera cuts to the Ferrari garage, to Seungcheol sitting in his car, helmet on, hands loose on the steering wheel as he waits.

Your stomach twists as his engineer’s voice crackles through the radio.

"Track is clear. Sending you out now."

Seungcheol doesn’t respond. Just shifts into gear, rolling out of the garage onto the pit lane.

The commentators barely take a breath before launching into his out-lap analysis.

"This is it, folks. One final shot for Ferrari’s Choi Seungcheol. He’s currently sitting in P3, but can he challenge for pole?"

"He’s had a tough session so far, struggling with the car’s balance, but he’s pulled off magic laps before. Let’s see what he can do."

You exhale slowly, pressing your knuckles against your lips as the camera follows him through the out-lap. He’s weaving aggressively, warming up his tires, testing every movement.

And then, finally—

"Choi Seungcheol begins his final lap."

The screen shows his car flying into a long, sweeping curve, and something tugs at your memory.

"It’s trickier than it looks," Seungcheol had once told you. It was late, the two of you sitting in the dim glow of his kitchen after Monza in 2023. "It’s easy to take it flat-out, but if you misjudge the line by even half a meter, you’re screwed on the exit."

Your breath catches slightly as you watch him now, the Ferrari holding steady, perfectly placed, just like he described.

The timing screen flashes, indicating a purple sector.

The commentators react instantly.

"He’s improving! Seungcheol is on a great lap. Can he challenge for pole?"

Your fingers tighten around the edge of the blanket draped over your legs.

The car flies through the next sector, fast and on the edge. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing. It’s pure instinct, the kind that only comes after years of knowing exactly where the limit is.

Purple again.

"He's still gaining! This could be huge for Ferrari!"

You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath.

The final corner looms. The moment of truth.

"It’s deceptive," he'd said, "the Parabolica. The biggest mistake is to brake early. If you do, you lose all your momentum. You have to trust the car. Trust yourself."

His Ferrari dives in so late you think for a second that he’s overdone it. But who are you kidding? It's Seungcheol. Seungcheol who would never settle for anything less than a front row at Monza. He knows what he's doing.

As he crosses the finish line, the leaderboard updates.

P2.

The commentators erupt—a front row start for Ferrari. The camera cuts to the grandstands, where thousands of fans in red are screaming his name.

You exhale.

Not pole.

But at least he’s ahead of Jaehyun.

The screen flickers back to the garage. Seungcheol removes his helmet slowly, setting it down beside him. He doesn’t look at anyone, doesn’t react to the pats on his back. His expression is unreadable.

Seungcheol is disappointed. Yes, he's out-qualified Jaehyun. But a Red Bull still sits on pole. Another at P3. His teammate's stuck at P5.

He mentally scoffs, A championship contender, that boy.

It's been a hard weekend for Ferrari this year. The Red Bulls have been fast all weekend. All season, but this weekend matters the most and Seungcheol has a chance. To prove to the team, to prove to himself and to win for the fans. 

He watches as Jaehyun gets out of his cockpit, looking thoroughly frustrated for once. 

Good, Seungcheol thinks. He's not going to be able to fight for the championship always, but if Ferrari has any chance of challenging for the constructors then Jaehyun needs to start doing better. Needs to start being harder on himself. 

As his PR manager approaches him, Seungcheol thinks about what this year's driver’s championship winner would mean. If it’s going to be Haechan, which seems to be the most probable case, then that would mean the downfall of Ferrari again. If Jaehyun won against the odds, it would mean that Seungcheol lost to a teammate for the first time in his career.

Ferrari is going to start asking him to play the team game soon. He's not going to have the choice to deny that. He just hopes it doesn't start tomorrow.

He needs that win.

[jimxnslight]

The Odd One Out

Summary: When BigHit faces financial struggles, the unthinkable happens: a girl is added to BTS. For the seven members, the change is unsettling, especially for Namjoon, who doubts her place among them. But for Y/N… it's a chance to finally be seen.

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Genre: idol au

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: I randomly got the urge to write but wasn’t really feeling any of my wips at the moment, so tell me why I opened a new doc and then 3 hours later this appeared? Like damn, I’m not used to this kind of motivation lmao

“This is a joke, right?”

A heavy silence followed Namjoon’s words, the band’s leader the only one with the guts to voice his mind. But really, someone had to point out how ridiculous the plan being proposed to them was. 

“Now I know it’s not very traditional-”

“It’s not breaking tradition that we’re concerned with,” he countered instantly, “it’s the fact that you’re proposing to bring a girl into the group.”

“I think we all just want to know where this is coming from,” Hoseok offered, inquisitive eyes traveling from Namjoon to their longtime friend and producer now sitting before them. 

Beomgyu sighed, taking in the small recording studio packed with the bright and young members of Bangtan. He had half a mind to call Sihyuk and give him hell for making him be the one to propose the solution they’d spent months coming up with. It was more than clear that the members weren’t on board with the plan, some outright rejecting it while others reluctant, which was a problem because only Beomgyu knew that they didn’t really have a choice in the matter. 

“Look,” Beomgyu raised his hands in surrender, not wanting this to fester into something dramatic, “I get it. The thought of someone being added into the group this late is a bit wild, especially that someone being a girl, but that’s exactly why we’re doing it.”

“So it’s a move for attention?” Yoongi commented, unimpressed. A single brow disappeared behind his light grey hair as he leaned back into the small sofa, arms crossing over his chest. Beomgyu could only purse his lips.

“The company’s been facing a lot of financial issues, especially ever since the girl group prior to your debut disbanded. They had hoped that perhaps your last album could have done well enough to keep us afloat until your popularity increases, but even I knew that was a long shot.”

“Then we’ll make a better album,” Namjoon said, determination making his voice firm, but Beomgyu shook his head.

“You guys don’t get it, do you?” 

The boys all gave Beomgyu a curious look, heads tilting and murmurs rippling amongst themselves. Beomgyu watched them all, feeling sympathy for the boys that deserved so much better.

“The Big Three companies have been buying up slots in awards shows and TV programs. They’ve been booking interviews everywhere - anywhere they can get their hands on. There are no places for us to market your group, nothing we can buy up because BigHit has no money. We’re lucky enough that the sales you guys make cover the production costs and some debts, which is way more than what we anticipated.”

He leaned forward in his chair, fidgeting with a stray pen, “you guys have made so many songs that should have been absolute hits, but they never did. Why? Because they can’t gain that kind of trajectory in a company so small. The only realistic thing to expect is to gradually gain popularity - but that takes time. Time we don’t have considering the fact that BigHit is sinking.”

The room was silent, everyone processing the weight of the situation. It made sense, as much as the boys hated to admit it, they were tired of putting all their blood, sweat, and tears into making their albums, only for them to gain minimal traction. They tended to put the blame on themselves most of the time, feeling as though they weren’t good enough, but Beomgyu knew the truth. Had they been in a bigger company, their songs would have been sellouts.  

“Come on, talk to me. You guys are my friends first, and I don’t want you to feel like we’re forcing a horrible decision on you,” Beomgyu begged, especially taking note of how quiet the younger members had been this entire time. 

He was relieved when Jimin sat forward on the couch, running a hand through his black hair slowly, “it’s just… this is weird. Not only for us, but what about the girl too? I can’t imagine she would feel comfortable being in a group with seven guys.”

“And doesn’t this decision seem a bit… permanent? Why not do something more temporary?” Yoongi piped in. 

Taehyung laughed, shaking his light brown hair, “what? Like dating rumours?”

Seokjin grimaced, as though the idea left a bad taste in his mouth. 

“Things like this tend to get a bigger reaction when the consequences are more permanent, or at least that’s what I was told,” Beomgyu offered. He was only a producer after all, most of the hard work had been done by the management. 

“And to answer Jimin’s question… well, the girl has already signed the contract, so she must be fine with it.”

That had all the boys’ heads snapping to Beomgyu.

“She’s already been picked out?” Jungkook asked, doe eyes wide in surprise. They widened even more when Beomgyu nodded, causing a frenzy amongst the boys. 

“You wanna meet her?” He asked with a relieved smile, glad to be out of the danger zone. 

Taehyung was the first to jump from his place on the couch, his leg accidentally bumping into Jungkook who had been sitting on the floor at his feet. He mumbled something in annoyance as his dark brown hair was pushed into his eyes.

“Okay, hold on.” Beomgyu’s words made the boys pause, “technically you’re not supposed to meet her until next week, but she told me she’ll be in the studio to record something for your next album today so I don’t think it’ll hurt to pay her a small visit.”

“You’ve met her already?” Hoseok asked, his tone slightly surprised. So much seemed to have changed in the span of 20 minutes. 

Beomgyu nodded, ushering everyone out of the recording studio to begin their journey to the one down the hall. Taehyung was right behind him, a boxy grin gracing his features. 

“So if you’ve met her, what’s she like?”

He seemed to have been the only one excited by the odd plan from the start, much less skeptical compared to his bandmates. But then again, Beomgyu wasn’t surprised. Taehyung seemed to have a natural liking for anything unusual. 

The other boys didn’t seem to share his enthusiasm, but he could see the hints of curiosity in their gazes. Even Namjoon trudged behind everyone reluctantly, though notably still skeptical of the plan. 

Once they had reached the door, Beomgyu knocked on it twice and then turned around to give them a look. 

“Regardless of your feelings towards this situation, let’s not try to overwhelm her, alright?” He said, his gaze then straying to Taehyung, “she’s a nice girl and she doesn’t deserve to be treated badly.”

Beomgyu didn’t actually believe any of the boys would be rude, he knew them better than that. He just hoped they also understood how nerve-wracking this would be for you, because he hadn’t lied, you really were a nice girl. 

The door behind him opened to reveal another producer.

“Alright then, let’s meet your new member.”

-

-

-

“God, you have no idea how much I’m enjoying this right now.”

Your head tilted in question at the comment, hands coming up to steady the headphones encasing your ears. This was probably your third hour in the recording booth, Hyowon seeming to want to make sure your voice didn’t work before he let you off.

“You enjoy getting rid of my voice?” You asked with an amused smile, the comment making him shake his head with a laugh.

“No, no, that’s not it, I swear. It’s just your vocals,” he explained, “I’m sure you already know we don’t get a lot of high notes around here - I mean don’t get me wrong, Jimin and Seokjin do an incredible job, but there’s nothing like a female high note.”

“I’m assuming you’re a fan of high notes?” You asked, almost bursting into laughter when he nodded instantly. 

“You should ask the guys, they’re sick of me telling them to sing one every two minutes- oh my god,” he exclaimed suddenly, a thought evidently coming to him, “please tell me you can do a whistle.”

You chuckled shyly, a bit embarrassed by your answer, “my vocal coach doesn’t want me to do it much until I get the proper technique down, but I’ve done it a few times.”

“Oh, Y/N. You’re gonna get so sick of me.”

You laughed, beginning to take a liking to Hyowon. It was nice to know there would be at least one person so easygoing and friendly in this company. It was going to make these next few months a lot easier if the other members decided they didn’t like you.

You knew technically it didn’t matter, but that thought had been playing around in your mind a lot lately. The entire situation was weird, even you had to admit, but the moment BigHit had given you a call and proposed the idea, you knew you’d have to be crazy to turn something like this down, especially considering how difficult it’s been trying to stay afloat as a solo artist from a small company.

Unlike what the company had in mind, however, you weren’t planning on staying in BTS forever. Your plan was to just join the group for about a year, ensure your name got out there while you and BTS grew in popularity, and then announce your disbandment from the group with a heartfelt goodbye. Rest assured if any of the guys weren’t a fan of your presence, they would only have to hold out for a few months.

Still, the people pleaser in you was hoping they didn’t hate you immediately. 

“Okay, I think that just about wraps up-”

A knock suddenly sounded from the recording studio’s door, causing the two of you to eye it curiously. 

“I thought there was still 20 minutes left until my fried chicken came, it must have come early…” Hyowon muttered, getting up from his seat to get to the door. 

You slid the headphones off your head with a relieved sigh, satisfied with the work you put in today, though your mind was already racing with ways to improve for next time. You let them whirl as you strolled out of the recording booth and gently placed the headphones back on the table. But when you turned around, you were surprised to find a number of other men in the room.

Not just any men too, but your soon-to-be bandmates. 

And all their eyes were trained on you, making your own widen. 

You’d technically seen them all in photos from the research you’d conducted after BigHit’s call, but those didn’t seem to do them justice at all. They didn’t capture the tender look in Yoongi’s eyes, or the pretty accents in Hoseok’s features. Jin, who you had already thought looked straight out of a k-drama, somehow looked even better in real life, while Namjoon’s aura seemed to exude the feel of a leader. Even though the rest were sort of hidden behind the older members, you could tell they were all attractive; it was so intimidating.

Before you could say anything - or sprint out the door like you really wanted to do right now - you caught sight of Beomgyu in the lineup of men, a friendly smile gracing his lips as he made his way to your side. 

“Hey guys,” he greeted, clapping Hyowon on the back before placing a more gentle hand on your shoulder. It was difficult to meet his eyes when your gaze kept flickering wearily to the boys surrounding you, “we thought it would be nice to drop by and see how the recording was going.”

Hyowon leaned a casual arm on Beomgyu’s shoulder, a testament to their evolved friendship over the years.

“It’s going very well,” he answered, excitement radiating off him in waves, “the high notes in your next album are going to be incredible.”

A series of groans rose from a few of the boys, only two of the seven harbouring amused smirks. It took a moment for you to place their names: Jin and Jimin, Bangtan’s main visual and lead vocalist. 

The latter accidently caught your gaze, black hair and sharp jawline giving him an almost charismatic intensity. But before you could quickly look away, his face broke into a warm smile, soothing a few of your nerves instantly. 

At least one of them didn’t seem to hate you. 

“Well, then…” Beomgyu began, catching everyone’s attention, “Hyowon and I have a couple things we need to work on, so… um, we’ll be right here if you need us?”

Hyowon snickered at the awkwardness before Beomgyu grabbed his shirt and dragged him to the computer across the room, which of course wasn’t that far with how small the studio was. You still missed the comfort of his hand on your shoulder, now feeling very alone while facing people that may potentially hate your existence. 

Still, you had to make at least some effort, right?

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you offered, voice smaller than you meant for it to be. 

A series of greetings sounded from them, some softening at your tone, while others were unmoved. It was difficult to gauge their general feelings on your presence, which only seemed to make you more nervous. 

Taehyung broke off from the group to stand closer, a boxy smile aimed right at you. You tried not to, but even you couldn’t stop yourself from ogling his almost perfectly structured face and the tousled hair that fell so effortlessly across his forehead when he moved.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” he said, and you couldn’t help but smile shyly at his excitement. If you hadn’t been so timid, you might have noticed his lingering gaze on your features, “this is all so cool, isn’t it?”

You’d never really thought about it like that, your views on the situation being controlled entirely by your nerves up until now. But when he put it that way… you supposed he was right, it was kind of cool. 

“I guess so,” you admitted, slowly warming up to the idea. 

“I mean, seriously, this is so crazy!” He continued on, facing the other members,“it’s not everyday a group gets a new member three years in - and that too a girl! This is kinda uncharted territory, you know?”

“That’s what makes it a bit scary,” you admitted with a chuckle. You noticed Jimin’s eyes soften at your words and his lips part to say something, but before he could, Jungkook piped up from behind Seokjin’s broad shoulders.

“You wouldn’t happen to be Y/L/N Y/N, would you?” He asked, his tone almost as shy as yours. You honestly hadn’t even realised he was there, but now that you had, you took in his doe eyes and ruffled dark brown hair. He kept having to push the silky locks out of his eyes, a motion you found insanely distracting. 

You nodded mindlessly, distantly surprised that he knew your last name without offering it. 

“Oh. Cool,” he nodded. Then he noticed your questioning look and quickly rushed to explain, “I think I’ve, um, heard your name somewhere.”

Seokjin’s gaze narrowed as he looked back at the younger boy, “hey, wait. Isn’t that the artist Jungkook listens to like all the time-?”

“So what’s your position?” Jungkook interrupted quickly, a bright shade of pink engulfing the sides of his neck. 

You blinked at Jungkook’s sudden change of topic, though you didn’t miss the slight panic in his expression. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips, slightly amused by his reaction. Seokjin’s comment had not gone unnoticed by you; the fact that Jungkook liked your music was a comforting thought. 

“Vocalist,” you replied, deciding not to tease him over it, which elicited a look of relief on Jungkook’s face, “though Hyowon has said I’ll be doing so much harmonisation work with Seokjin and Jimin that it might as well be my actual position.”

Seokjin chuckled quietly, his plump lips spreading into a charming smile, though his gaze didn’t meet yours. In fact, you started to notice that he was keeping his gaze strictly on the other members even as you spoke. 

“Good, it’ll finally get him off our backs,” Yoongi muttered, revealing a much more laid back personality instead of the cold persona he seemed to emit on camera, “I’m a rapper and that man still tries to get me to put in a couple high notes.”

Hyowon turned from the mixing desk to face the group with an evidently offended huff, reminding you of the producers’ presence. 

“You all complain now, but just wait until you hear the final product. You’ll be thanking me.”

“Sure,” Yoongi deadpanned, turning to you once again, “can you rap?”

You tilted your head in thought. 

“I think I can hold my own if I had to, though it’s not really my style.”

“That’s fine, you’re one of us vocalists,” Taehyung waved his hand around dramatically, throwing a possessive arm around your shoulder as he eyed Yoongi, “no one wants to be one of the rappers anyway.”

“Weren’t you just yesterday begging Namjoon to let you on Cypher?” Jimin raised a brow.

“No.”

“Do you dance, Y/N?” Hoseok asked, interrupting the ridiculous conversation before it turned into a fight, though the way he leaned forward made it clear he was very interested in your answer. 

That question had you nervously rocking against your heels, a hesitant breath escaping your lips before you replied, “definitely not as good as you guys, but I’m ready to put in a ton of work to get better, I swear.”

Unlike the look of displeasure you expected, Hoseok nodded in your direction with a satisfied smile. It was a relief that he was willing to at least give you a chance before jumping to disdain. His gaze lingered as he scanned you from head to toe, assessing your potential with intensity.

“Hard work is a must,” Namjoon emphasised, the first time he’d spoken since walking into the room. Even though no one had been speaking, it felt as though a hush had washed over the group, a testament to the weight of his words as a leader. You’d been noticing Namjoon staring at you from the beginning, the look not exactly scorn, but not very inviting either. It made you squirm in your spot, doubt creeping into your thoughts, “being a soloist is pretty different from being in a group, which means you’ll have to put in a lot of hard work - it’s not going to be easy.”

You straightened, feeling as though you were being tested, “I understand completely. I know it won’t be easy, but I’m ready to put in the work. You don’t have to worry about me being a drain.”

Namjoon’s hard gaze flickered before he regarded you for a moment, no indication as to whether you had passed his mini “test” or not, “alright.”

A soft hand squeezed your shoulder gently, belonging to none other than Jimin. The proximity of his warm eyes made your face heat, something Jimin seemed to notice. His smile became teasing, “don’t say that, no one here thinks that you’re a drain. I think you’re going to do great. And if you have any questions don’t hesitate to-”

“I have a question actually,” Namjoon’s voice sounded once again, gaze still trained on you. You couldn’t help but feel a wave of tension run through you every time he spoke, “I’m curious to know why you agreed to this whole thing.”

You pursed your lips, not entirely sure how to reply. On one hand, you didn’t mind telling them about your plan, in fact, you bet they’d be relieved to hear it. But on the other hand, you were slightly afraid that they might think you were using them - which technically speaking you were, but also technically speaking they were using you too. It was an odd predicament.

“My solo career wasn’t doing as well as I had wished it would - plus, the excitement of something new mostly,” you offered. Only half the truth, but just enough to relieve you of your guilty conscience. 

“Well, the contract’s been signed and you’re here now, so you’re one of us,” Taehyung exclaimed, and you couldn’t help but be grateful for how welcoming he’d been since the start. Not that the others haven’t, Jimin’s presence had been like a warm blanket while Jungkook’s secret admiration had been an honour. And you completely understood everyone else’s hesitation, you’d be weirded out too if someone was randomly added to your group three years later. Still, the warm welcomes had made you insanely grateful. 

Taehyung steered you towards the door of the studio, “and what better way to celebrate than to eat some steaming barbeque and noodles.”

“Oh oka-” You barely had time to answer before you were being steered out the door by an enthusiastic Taehyung, the rest shrugging before following behind with casual chatter and mumbles. Soon the studio was empty, no one but Namjoon, Beomgyu, and Hyowon left. 

Namjoon stood with his hands crossed over his chest, gaze fixed on the door when he spoke.

“The contract’s already signed, huh?” he repeated, gaze shifting to the other two men in the room, “and what if we had said no?”

“Namjoon,” Beomgyu pleaded, his face falling, “please don’t make this harder than it has to be…”

Namjoon’s gaze softened, realising that he was directing his anger onto the wrong people, “sorry. I know this isn’t on you, man.”

“Come on, Joon,” Hyowon said, feeling bad for his friend, “she seems nice, and she’s got an incredible voice. You may not like the situation, but at least she’ll be a good addition to the group, no?”

Namjoon’s gaze strayed back to the open door, letting his thoughts whirl around in his head. He didn’t want to voice them out loud because, technically speaking, he didn’t really have any tangible evidence that went against what Hyowon was saying yet.

He uncrossed his arms with a sigh.  

“We’ll just have to wait and see.”

[engenlvr]

i miss you, i’m sorry | alexia putellas

pairing: alexia putellas x mila crnogorčević (oc)

summary: years ago she messed up the best thing that ever happened to her and now it's back in front of her she won't make that mistake again

tags: angst, fluff, acl's, firstlove!alexia, past relationship, exes that haven’t seen each other in years, orange coloured text means that it is spanish and blue is swiss german. i hate writing games so it will probably be written horribly.

word count: 10k+

it was match day.

an el clásico to be exact. barcelona vs real madrid. champions league quarter final. you’ve been to many of these when you moved to spain from switzerland when you were fourteen.

football was your favourite sport growing up your dad was huge on it he even tried to get you in the sport but it was horrible and you quit immediately. you traded playing the sport to taking pictures of it.

you cousin ana-marie was the whole reason why you were here today, sat next to your friend bella. you were beyond proud of the girl and everything she’s achieved in her career.

today she was going to play in front of a world record crowd for women’s football. thousands of people in one stadium to see the team’s kick a ball around.

when you were offered an invite to see her play you couldn’t decline it wasn’t just a big moment in her career but also yours if you could capture the right moment. there were times where you’d see her play and the stadium barely had any people but today was the stadium was basically full.

the two girls were sat in their barcelona shirts with the name crnogorčević on the back of it. the game was just about to start with just the whistle needing to be blown.

and when it did the twenty two players began to run up and down the pitch. the score was already 3-1 on aggregate but it didn’t stay like that for long with a lovely cross from barcelona’s number four in the seventh minute.

there was something about el clásico no matter what, they were entertaining the rivalry between the two clubs causing that. then came the penalty due to a hand ball which only added to the game. it ended up going in real madrid’s favour with it barely slipping passing pass the goalkeeper fingers.

but it wasn’t till the second half when you got really invested, it wasn’t your cousin getting subbed on the pitch that the game really started to interest you. and a goal from the opposing team, a goal that was a beaut even thought it was hard to say with your barça heart.

but with that goal you knew it was only going to motivate them more and it did. that goal drove the home team to get a few more in their name. but it wasn’t the second or third goal that caught your attention it was the fourth that did.

the way they played was so familiar but you couldn’t place who it was or if your even knew them. the confidence in their movement and passes, their confidence full stop was too similar. the was she bowed to the fans as they all cheered for her. you didn’t have the clearest of views from where you were sat but with that being said whenever you were taking pictures you don’t really pay attention to their face everything was blurred out.

the rest of the game was a blur all your thoughts on the teams number 11 who seemed to be everyone’s favourite and it wasn’t until the final whistle that you snapped out of that trance.

“that game was amazing, i mean all the goals was beautiful” hanna blabbed in excitement over the game as the two of you made your way down to the pitch now that everyone was gone “i mean you have to show me all your photos”

looking at the girl “you always see my photos before anyone else” if there was one thing that the spanish girl loved about you was that you knew someone on the team meaning that you could get her tickets.

the two of you met about three years ago and have been best friends since and it wasn’t until a year in your friendship that she realised that you knew ana-marie but that you were actually family.

“ana! i’m so proud of you” pulling the girl into a hug and not letting her go till she started to pull away to hug hanna.

“you were amazing” the spanish girl complimented completely in awe at the swiss girl’s performance today.

the three girl continued to chat about the match that happened, from the goals to saves that happened. you listed nodding every now and then to the teams number 10 caught your eyes.

“jenni?” eyes full of confusion as you walked to the dark haired girl “what are you doing here? you know when we met and you were all secretive about your job i didn’t know it was because you were a footballer” she pulled you into a hug completely shocked that the girl she thought about a lot after they last saw each other months ago.

“what am i doing here? i could ask you the same thing. i can’t believe your here” her eyes looked at you “you know ana she’s my cousin and she asked me to come see her play. i’m also a sports photographer and it was worth coming i mean it was beautiful to think so many people came to watch you play. but i don’t blame them”

“are you flirting with me?” she joked remembering how you where when the two of you met on holiday “your family is looking at us well more me but still”

you looked back at your cousin and friend who glanced at the two of you “i think she just shocked that i know another footballer i mean she was shocked when i told her that ana was my cousin like she screamed cause she she loves this team”

“and you? do you love this team”

“i guess i do i’ve lived here since i was fifteen and been to may of these games and my shirt” spinning around to show her the your name ( ana-maria’s name ) on the back “love everything about this club, in fact i know everything about it”

“well since you love this club so much out of the kindness of my heart i’ll give you my shirt” pulling the fabric off her body and handing it to you “and the team we’re going out tonight to celebrate the win you should come”

“i don’t want to intrude” shaking your head no “you won’t i promise i want you there and the team will love you”

jenni heard her name being called “look i got to go but please come”

“hanna how do u feel about going to a party tonight”

so that’s how the two of your found yourselves in the club full of professional footballers “not to sound like i’m using you or anything but i love the fact that you know footballers especially barça ones. but how do you know jenni” the dark haired spaniard asked while dragging you to the bar to get shots number, well she didn’t know.

“err, we met on holiday”

her head shot around “you slept with her” the words jumbled up in your throat trying to come up with lie but nothing worked and you knew that she could see right through you so you stopped “no, okay so maybe i did, but it was months ago and a total coincidence that i met her today. i didn’t even know she played for barça”

“well i’m happy that you know them cause girl this place has been booked out for months”

the swiss girl humed in agreement before picking up the shot and downing it clearly needing it after her best friend integration.

the footballers were scatters all around across the club. you have yet to see everyone on the team, only really talked to ana-maria, ingrid, mapi and of course jenni.

“i don’t blame you, she’s really hot”

“thank you, hanna. i’m gonna steal her for a dance” pulling you alonge with her before you could say by to the girl.

“you’re a hard girl to find” she whispered in your ear from behind, the way she spoke with such confidence in everything that she does.

“well i’ve been on the dance floor or at the bar”

your body up against hers, the way her hand run up your bare back due to your backless crop top you wore. the touch that caused goosebumps to appear. maybe it was the alcohol that enhanced all that you felt but you didn’t care, both of you didn’t.

“you look beautiful, your top with that small skirt of yours i love it” her fingers grazing the price of clothing as she named them “it reminds me of that night in kos. you at that club in that tight red dress that compliments you so well” pushing you hair to the side “i still think about that night, how good you were for me all night” her lips meeting your neck peppering kisses on it.

you finally looked away from the girl and looked at the table in front of you. your movements halted as you saw her, you saw alexia after all these years. after ten years you saw her and she was looking directly back at you. those eyes you used to wake up next to, those hazel eyes you loved looking at.

after ten years and she still had the same effect on you as if the two of you still knew one another. god you hated that she did, you hated that she looked more beautiful since the last time you saw her.

looking at her and you suddenly were a teenage girl and in love with girl and the two of you were in her room kissing each other every chance you had.

“i’m sorry, i’ve got to go” running out the club ignoring the calls not only from jenni but from hanna and your cousin as well.

you didn’t remember how you got there but there you were at beach the two of you used to always go to. looking at the rock which had the initials of the two of you and drawings that the two of you have put.

you felt a figure sit beside you, not even having to look as that scent was so familiar. the midfielder sat down beside you and the seconds she did you got up to walk away.

her hand grabbing your wrist to stop you from fleeing.

“no ale—alexia no. you don’t get to come here and touch me like nothing happened. you were horrible to me i stuck with you through everything the highs and the lows but then you took out all your anger on me and i tried to stay but it wasn’t just that. you never showed up. i was there at every important event of yours but you never came to mine even if i told you weeks in advance there was always something to stop you from coming but that night was it. i just couldn’t do it no more”

seeing her just brought everything up again, everything that you thought you had healed all those years ago but it didn’t, it still hurt.

“i don’t blame you” her voice sweeter than ever it still sounded like pure heaven to you but how couldn’t it. it was the voice that told you that she loved you and that she was gonna marry you and so much more. you couldn’t stand that fact that it still did “i would of done the same thing, walking out on me. i was a horrible girlfriend not just after he died but before as well. my need to just be the best ruined what we had and after years of having you by my side i was so used to having you there and i took it for granted and i thought you’d stay, no matter what but i pushed you too far but losing you made me see everything that i done and how wrong i done you. the trophies mean nothing if your not by my side”

her eyes were on you but yours were focusing on the waves and the sound it made it helped you slow the tears falling down your face “seeing you with jenni, my best friend. how close she was to you, her body up against your whispering in your ear and kissing you. i don’t ever want to see that. i used to be the one to do that to you and i want to make things right. there hasn’t been a day no a second where i haven’t thought about you and i’m going to make it right cause losing you made me realise how much i love you and need you in my life”

her words caused you to look at her for the first time since the club. you had a chance to really look at her alexia had changed her hair now blonde it complimented her but you miss her brown hair.

you often thought about what would of happened if you told the girl straight up how you felt whether you’d be at the match for her instead of ana-marie. whether you’d be there after every win and lost. whether you’d still go her family’s house chatting with her mum or going out with alba to gossip or if you’d still be with her.

“alexia i— i don’t think that can happen” her eyes looking a bit sad at your words “no mila i will make us us again i’m not gonna give up on this on us”

standing up from where the two of your were sat, slowly moving away till you were by the right of her to say your last words to her “i’m glad you got everything you ever wanted” walking away but not before glancing back at her one more time.

those words hurt her more knowing you thought that she couldn’t fix this or that you didn’t want her to try at all but she had changed losing you changed her for the better “not everything” she whispered sadly looking directly at you. she let you slip away once but she wouldn’t let it happen again.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

october 2009

it was your first day at school in spain obviously you were beyond nervous, how could you not be in a place where the language wasn’t you first and only understood basic phrases.

if it wasn’t bad enough that you were the new kid you had to be the new kid who joined midway through the the term. everyone already had their established friendship groups and you would be there all alone.

your dad who was a football coach moved us here as being the coach of barça was something he couldn’t turn down, so that’s how you found yourself in barcelona. ever since finding out that you were moving you tried to learn spainsh and catalan but it was harder than you thought.

the halls were crowded with friends walking around making their way for lunch, while you walked in the complete opposite direction. lessons weren’t necessarily bad but you felt like the odd one out everyone speaking rapid spanish while you could only latch on to maybe a few words if lucky. having the teacher speak to the class and then you, which wasn’t to hurt you or make you feel separate but it did.

you had found a secluded space, the football stands. despite not being that good at the sport you felt comfort there. your dad often took you with him when he practiced. though you had never been here, every stand felt familiar and brought you comfort.

everywhere you went you had a camera always ready to capture a moment whether it was a person or scenery, taking pictures was what you were meant to do. your love for sports photography began with all the training sessions your day would take you to. when you were younger you would always complain about how boring it was but then your mum had the idea to give you a camera. and to their surprise the pictures you took were great, great enough to even be used for promo.

a brunette walked on to the pitch with a ball in her hands before going to do some football drills. the girl obviously didn’t notice you seeing as she continued to move effortlessly with the ball.

you could tell she was popular as every time someone walked pass they wave to her or have a conversation with her.

it was beautiful.

a scene worth capturing. she looked beautiful and confident in each stride. so you picked up your film camera and took multiple pictures of the girl who moved gracefully on the pitch.

she was perfected each stride except for the last which went straight for you and totally would of hit you if you hadn’t of ducked “i’m sorry, i didn’t see you there” she apologised profusely while running over to you. the language of that spoke from her lips confused you for a moment completely forgetting that you weren’t in switzerland anymore but spain “it’s okay” you face full of confusion as you didn’t know if you had said the words right.

and she continued apologising well that’s what you thought she was saying as you were completely lost and your face displayed it.

“your the new student aren’t you” finally switching to english which calmed your nerves completely “yeah, i’m sorry i’m trying to learn catalan but i’m not that good yet”

reaching for the ball behind you, grabbing it and handing it to her. you could finally look at the girl, hazel eyes which complimented her brown hair so well. “so why are you here and not eating lunch”

“i don’t really know anyone here. actually you’re the first person to really put in an effort to talk to me” shrugging your shoulders

“well you know me now”

the words spoken with a smile “alexia” putting her hand out for you to shake.

“mila”

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

present day

fate.

that’s what alexia liked to call it whenever the two of you seemed to bump into each other. at the coffee shop, in the middle of the streets, your weekly food shop and more.

obviously she was happy about seeing you but after you hadn’t seen her for ten years it was weird seeing her this often.

you slammed the door shut as you entered your flat which hanna was currently in “mila what happened for you to slamming that poor door?”

glaring at the girl with her comment “ugh i hate her why can’t she just leave me alone”

“who”

“i mean everyday i bump into her and she’ll be all happy acting as if nothing happened. asking me how my day was”

“again i don’t know who your talking about”

“it’s just why do i have to see her practically everyday—“

the spaniard grabbed your shoulders shaking them to stop you from talking “mila who? who are you talking about?”

“alexia” the words coming out slow “okay alexia who alexia jones, alexia smith. mila who’s alexia? i don’t know everything”

“alexia from the bar”

a look of realisation appeared on her face “alexia putellas!” you nodded “you know alexia what did you sleep with her or something how do you know her? why is it you who knows all the barça player and i don’t” whispering the last bit to herself.

“i kinda know her”

“yeah i’ve got that but how?”

“well i kinda used to date her” hanna’s face filled with shock cause if she was in your position she’d be telling everyone she knew “i know i should of told you but the break up was so messy we were so messy in the last few month’s. when we first met it was perfect like i was so in love and it only grew as our careers did. i’d go to her games and she’d go to my events everything was perfect. then her dad died and everything went down hill she’d start arguments over anything i did that showed that i cared. she missed my events and then i just left, couldn’t even tell her to her face or else i wouldn’t go through with it so i left her a silly letter, i left her when she needed me most”

“you used to date alexia putellas, the the caption of fc barcelona” completely ignoring everything but the first sentence

“yes hanna” slight annoyed at her for being up her name again “okay just making sure we’re talking about the same person here”

dropping yourself on the sofa and grabbing a pillow of yours to squeeze. at first hanna was going to make a joke about the two of you but she saw the way you looked over you bumbing into the captain and how much it really effected you in more ways than you wished.

“you want my opinion” looking at you and waiting for a sigh but you stayed still staring at the view form your window “okay well i’m gonna give you it anyway. well it’s clear that she still means something to you wether you want it to or not but you still love her and miss her and what the two of you had. well i don’t know alexia personally but i think if she really didn’t care about you and didn’t feel sorry she wouldn’t talk to you each time she bumps into you. i think you leaving really showed her how wrong her actions were and i think the reason she didn’t reach out is to respect your boundaries even if it hurt her.”

“all i’m saying is that it won’t hurt to at least talk things out so that the both of you can move on” pulling your head to her chests “just think about it okay”

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

february 2010

you learnt very quickly that alexia practically bleed blaugrana. you figured that out practically the first day you met.

at your old school when people found out who your dad was they would always ask for favours. like to meet the players and get stuff signed for them. so they never really wanted to be your friend.

so when you heard that you were gonna move to barcelona you made the choice to go by your mums last name instead of your dads.

though you didn’t want your mind to go there it did. you thought somehow she found a picture of you online and that’s why she started talking to you. but as the days went on she never asked for anything infact when she saw your face when she talked about the club she’d stop.

slowly you realised that maybe she was friends with you solely cause of you and not for your dad. that she actually liked you for you. most of your friends were ones from your childhood other than that you didn’t make any.

normally you wouldn’t use your dads connections for your own personal use. but it was alexia you were talking about, your alexia and seeing the smile that would come on her face would be so worth it.

alexia was gutted that she couldn’t get tickets to that game barcelona vs real madrid seeing as the game was a day after her birthday.

“alexia i have one more gift for you” pulling out the bag for behind you “mila i told you that you didn’t need to get me anything, you being here is enough” seeing as you already got her too much stuff in her eyes from new football boots which she instited that you took back and the only present she truly accepted was the necklace you bought for her.

your face could barely keep your emotions in as you were smiling so much “i know but you’ll love it i swear”

“open it please” pushing the bag more towards her. you watched as she hesitantly opened the bag and her face filled with excitement as she read what was on the paper.

“no you didn’t” she repeated before throwing herself your arms causing you to fall backwards on the floor “mila, i love you. best birthday present ever” she said while placing kisses on your cheeks which caused them to heat up.

her parents watched as the two of you hugged on the floor while her sister picked the piece of paper and showed her parent which only made their smile widen.

you were exactly what alexia needed. sure she had others friends that they thought were good enough for alexia but seeing you with her only made them realise that what they saw before was nothing like what the two of you had.

“but these were sold out how could you possibly get them and the first row” pulling away to look at you through her tear filled eyes before hugging you again “i have my ways and we even get to go on the pitch afterwards and talk to the players” you were meant to keep that last bit in but you couldn’t help it. seeing alexia happy makes you happy

“what did i do to deserve you”

what you didn’t know was the you buying the tickets was the best thing to ever happen to the two of you. after the game which barcelona won of course alexia’s words. you didn’t just get tickets for the two of you you also got tickets for her mum, dad and sister.

the lot of you made your way down the pitch. the clothes you wore which were simply a t-shirt and a pair of jeans and alexia said you should of worn the barcelona top she got you seeing as everyone but you wore one.

dragging her hand as you went on to the pitch and to your dad which she was yet to know was your dad “dad” shouting as you ran and hugged him “hi, i see you we’re finally brave enough to tell her who your dad is” whispering in your ear.

“ale, come here pls” telling the girl who stood confused next to her parents. she was really confused about her her mila knew the head coach of barcelona. “ale i’d like you to meet my dad”

“it’s nice to finally meet you alexia” bring the girl into a hug where she stood still in shock

“your dad. he’s your dad. the head coach of barcelona is your dad” pointing between the two of you “i’m sorry i should of told you but at my last school people only wanted to be friend with me cause of it and i just didn’t want that. i wanted to be sure that you were friend with me cause of me not cause of my day”

she stood still for a second her face emotionless, no tell of what she was feeling “no i get it, i’m glad that you trust me” pulling you into a hug. before you dragged her to meet the players.

safe to say that she need a minute after meeting the players. she pulled you into the bathroom, you immediately sat on the sink as you watched the girl just pace back and fourth thinking about the event that happened in the previous hour.

“mila” finally breaking the silence “i can’t believe that just happened. i always thought about how i would act if i met the players but i didn’t really think it would happen”

she stoped pacing and moved between the the gap of your legs. alexia knew that what she felt for you was stronger than her other friendships. She knew she loved you even at the start of your friendship. whether she meant it in the way she loved her friends or more she just knew that she did.

everyone your age had boyfriends, alexia claimed she doesn’t have one as she didn’t see the appeal. you on the other hand, had boys ask you out which you always declined. that was something that annoyed alexia but she’d never tell you why not that she knew why she hated it. you hadn’t been in a relationship since your boyfriend back in switzerland.

she loved you. your hair, your eyes the way you’d smiled or how you generally were intrigue in the silly stories she tell you. maybe it was the little to no distance between the two of you or the high from meeting her football idols that made her do it. but she did

alexia’s hand went to your cheek which you leaned into. her eyes flickering between your eyes and lips.

her lips were suddenly placed on yours moving but it was your turn to stand still in shock. when you didn’t reciprocate she moved away “mila, i’m sorry that was a mistake. i hope i haven’t ruined this—” placing your lips on hers showing her that you felt the same. your hand wrapped around her neck pulling you closer, wanting to feel more of her on you. the two of you seemed to forget that this was a bathroom as the two of you were lost in each other.

kissing your ex never felt like this, like you were on cloud nine.

“best birthday present ever” alexia spoke between kisses and went to deepen the last when a knock stopped it from happening. causing the two of you to laugh.

“we should go” you murmured kissing her and dragging her out of the bathroom.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

present day

unblock alexiaputellas

unblocked

unblocking was first thing you done since your talk with hanna. you told yourself that you were doing it to finally move on but part of you done it to i guess see her but at the some time not. watch her life from afar.

the second you pressed that button you saw ten years worth of memories that you could of been part of. her first cap for her country, days out with her family, winning the league and the one that hurt most her signing for barcelona. the one you promised to be there for.

milacc

hey

the notification on alexia’s screen caused her to drop her home phone in the changing room once she saw it. gaining looks form all her teammates especially once they saw her face.

alexiaputellas

hi

milacc

we need to talk

i know you have a team meet up tomorrow can I meet you there???

if not we can find a better date

alexiaputellas

no that fine

i’m sure all my teammates will be fine with you coming

milacc

perfect see you tomorrow

alexiaputellas

wait

how do you know about tomorrow?

milacc

ana-maria told me

alexiaputellas

how do you know ana

milacc

she’s my cousin

alexiaputellas

she’s the ana you said you always missed

makes sense now she’s exactly how you said she was

milacc

yeah

anyway i’ve got to go work is calling

bye

alexiaputellas

bye

see you tomorrow

when you texted her yesterday the meet up it was meant to be at a cafe, but once that heard how many people were coming they said the party was too big.

so you got a text from ana-maria saying that it was being held a alexia place. arriving at her place didn’t really setting in till you went inside.

hesitantly you knocked on the door, rocking back and forth on your feet. when the door finally opened it revealed alexia.

“hi” putting her into a small hug a hug in which she missed more than words could describe. she would of held on a little longer if you hadn’t pulled away when something fluffy ran towards you.

“nala, my baby. oh how i’ve missed you”

picking up her dog which couldn’t contain her excitement in your arms and kissing you’re face. now you’ve known nala since alexia first got her. she claimed that she got it for her but she also knew how much you loved dogs.

when nala was little she spent most of her time with you so she got very close to you and you would also joke saying that you were nala’s favorite ( you were ) even though alexia would never admit it.

obviously it wouldn’t be that bad seeing as you’d have ana-maria here with you so if you needed a break you’d could just go to her.

once fully being inside her place you muttered a quick hi to the other girls and giving jenni a small hug before sitting down and the only seat that was left was next to alexia.

once all the greeting and introductions were done you took a sip of the coffee that alexia got for you and it was exactly how you liked.

she remembered after all these years.

“so mila how do you know ana-maria?”

the two swiss girls looked at each other “she’s my cousin” they all looked between them and only then saw the similarities between the two.

you liked the girls they genuinely seemed like nice girls and you got on with everyone. alexia smiled while she watched you talk to her friends and imagined that this was the everyday norm. she imagined that you were her girlfriend and this was normal.

made her want this back even more.

while talking to the girls you had a proper look at her place. you noticed things that the others wouldn’t like the candle holder, the swiss book that’s you loved, flower pot and many more.

after years she still had your things littered around her place as if it was ours. alexia knew that it was wrong but she didn’t have you in her life and this was the best she would get.

jana came back through the bathroom door with a video camera in her hands and a sneaky smile “you’ll never guess what i found?”

alexia looked over at jana and what she was holding and launched herself at jana to grab it but failed “this has old video of alexia”

“jana no” giving the girl a serious look but that did nothing seeing as the girl started to play the video on the tv.

it was video that you instead on taking documenting you and Jaume’s journey to her games. it was a tradition every game you’d vlog your journey.

the clip was half played and you were stood in the stands cheering as alexia’s father recorded the two of you. alexia scored and instead of celebrating with her teammates she ran over to you and kissed you, a type of kiss that makes you lose train of thought.

your eyes stared at the video, frozen in place. you hadn’t seen this video since the two of you broke up.

the next clip cut to after the match where he was recording the two of you whispering sweet nothings to eachother sneaking in a kiss every now and then. so stuck in your own world you didn’t notice the camera turning from you to him saying ‘if alexia doesn’t marry this girl, i won’t believe in love. they’re made for each other”

then the screen went black.

you were stuck in your seat, you have never seen this clip before. did he really think that? that the two of you were made for each other. cause if he did he’d be shocked at how the two of you were now.

“what?” you questioned as jana looked at the you and the the scene repeatedly “the two of you look a like”

the realisation finally settling in for her and just as she was about to ask more questions the door opening stopped her. but what came next answered her question anyway.

“alexia you forgot your phone at my place” a voice called taking the phone from her bag, finally looking up to see you.

“mila”

then her sister shouted in joy before running over to you and wrapping her arms around you, completely forgetting about why she originally came here.

obviously you thought about the possibility of bumping in to her family but somehow it never did.

you loved alba with all your heart and missed her at lot more than you’d like to admit. the two of you got on so well it annoyed alexia seeing as her sister would always steal you from her. but it wasn’t just her you missed it was her family in general especially her mum. her food, her hugs, talks and so much more.

“i missed you so much. why didn’t you call or text i missed you so much but that put aside does this mean that you guys have sorted this out seeing as well in the same room together. oh i can’t wait to talk to mum, she’s misses you so much”

you tried to intervene to stop her from basically telling everyone what you didn’t want them to know but it was to late.

“alba, we’re not back together”

the joy slipped from her face sadness now replacing it. thought the two of you were speaking catalan most of girl’s definitely understood everything.

jenni looked at you, the scene from the club making sense. you walking out once you saw alexia “wait you and alexia were a thing?”

“she’s the alexia that broke your heart” ana on the other hand heard everything when the two of you broke up and let’s just say she didn’t want to be face to face with the girl.

“yeah erm we used to date when we were younger back at school and ana don’t start anything please” seeing the glare that was sent to alexia.

things started to click them for mapi “wait she’s the girl” whispering quietly to her best friends which she only nodded a yes to.

now mapi knew everything from the way the two of you met to how you guys broke up. she was the only one who knew why alexia would reject every girl that came her way, why she was extra quite and sad on your birthday.

grabbing the younger putellas sister and pulling her into the spare bedroom “i’m so sorry, i spoke without thinking. i was just so happy that i saw you two together i just assumed. i’m sorry”

“i’m not mad at you okay. i know you didn’t mean to say all that” smiling at the girl weekly.

sitting down to the bed that seemed to be alexia’s. you thought that your stuff outside her room was a lot but in here there was so much more, even some pictures of the two of you.

“she still loves you, you know” stinging next to you “she knows she messed up, trust me”

you finally looked at alba “you know i was the who found this place. we were looking for places for when barça finally signed her and i fell in love with this place the second i saw it” a small tear falling from your eye’s

“i thought that i could do this, be around her. but i can’t, i don’t know how to anymore”

alba pulled you back into the hug holding just like you held her when she first got her heart broken all those years ago.

and the two of you stayed there for a while, as you didn’t want to let go. her hugs always made you feel comfortable and you needed that right now.

finally re-entering the room with your makeup touched up. the room was a little tense with all that has been uncovered.

“so i slept with the both of you” were the words that finally broke silence. both yours and alexia eye’s widened.

you looked at jenni “oh please tell me your joking” she slowly shook her head no. everyone was quiet expect for alba who found the whole funny minus the part where they were talking about her sisters sex life.

“well at least tell me i was better” telling a joke trying to lighten the situation but jenni couldn’t tell that it was a joke and answered truthfully tilting her head towards you.

“jenni i was joking you didn’t have to answer that i was just trying to lighten the mood”

alexia didn’t think it was as funny mumbling some words in catalan “what” the words slightly harsh.

“it’s just that i taught you like everything” looking at you as if her words were factual “you taught me everything. no alexia who was the who was a virgin when we met not me, you. also i wasn’t the sex crazed one you were”

“no i remember it otherwise but what do i know plus i have proof” her words to the rest of the girls sounded like nonsense and to you as well till it all clicked “omg don’t tell me you still have that, ale. tell me that you deleted it”

the two of you seemed to forget that it want just the both of you and the rest of the team was there as well and well most of them understood everything.

“i forgot, okay”

alba who was currently sat in your lap finally spoke up making a joke as usual “well don’t tell me it was a sex tape?” laughing seeming as it was something that you as well as her sister would never do something like that.

but with the both of you stilling and looking around away awkwardly not meeting her eyes “your joking right”

“it was accidental” was the only excuse you could come up with. but it wasn’t a lie you only put the camera there so you could film her reaction but then one thing led to another.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

june 2010

from that day forward the two of you where inseparable always at each others house. you were always at ale’s games with her dad no matter what. you were there when she made her debut, there when she scored her first goal, there when she won games and there when she lost.

you and alexia were in the best place you’ve ever been. always staying at her place and kissing when ever the two of you were left alone. you didn’t know when you guys changed from best friends to girlfriend??? but the day after that game things changed since then.

you didn’t know what the two of you were but you loved it. the lovesick girls layed on alexia’s bed, with her head in your lap and you stroking her hair.

it was moments like these that you lived for the simplicity of them as all the two girl could think about was each other.

now since then your spainsh and catalan had improved immensely due to alexia who helped you every day with it. the truth was that alexia loved hearing you speak her language it made her love you even more.

“you know no matter what you the most important thing in my life” the brunette girl confessed.

“more important than football” jokingly already knowing that she’d choose football as it was such an important part of her life.

twisting her body to look at you directly at you “yeah, you come first no matter what” you’re face softening at her words that made you love her more if possible.

“really”

“yeah really”

moving up to kiss you, which slowly started to get more heated as she started to pull your shirt over your head and you doing the same to her.

the kiss getting more eager before alba walked in screaming in schock at what the two of you were doing, before covering her eyes. the two of you jumping away from each other and rushing to get your tops on so you were decent.

“the two of you” her finger pointing between both of you “you and alexia. mila and you” still in shock at the scene in front of her which was you hiding your blushed face in her pink pillow and ale glaring at her sister.

yes there was a you and alexia but at the same time there wasn’t as the two of you weren’t exclusive.

“yes alba me and mila. now please leave!”

“oh i’m so telling mum and dad”

“alba!!!”

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

present day

the girls finally left alexia’s home, leaving you alone with her. something that you dreaded being alone with her, something that use to be so normal and comforting for the both of you. but now it was the opposite unfamiliar and uncomfortable.

none of you have said a word for about twenty minutes, just looking at the wall looking at all the things that used to be yours.

“mila” your hands moving up to tell her to stop which she did.

“i don’t even know why i asked to talk to you.” laughing slightly at the situation “i can’t even be in the same room as you anymore without feeling uncomfortable”

alexia eyes filled with hurt as that was never something that she wanted to make you feel.

“hanna said i should listen to your side of this so i can move on. cause she says it’s killing me now.”

killing you

those words rang through her head.

she looked up at you “okay” her words very weak and sad

“i was a shit girlfriend, i remind myself of it everyday. alba reminds me as well and if she doesn’t someone else in my family says how badly i messed it up with you. you were— no you are my everything and i hate the fact i lost site of that. that being the best clouded what mattered most to me. you.”

tears started to fill your eyes even though you really didn’t what them to.

“before he died, and i’m not saying this is an excuse but i was under so much pressure and i just wanted to make him proud before he died. but in doing so i treated you so bad and im so ashamed of it and i deserve every bad thing that comes my way and more”

“he would of been proud of you no matter what alexia. he was so proud to call you his daughter”

tears finally fell from her eyes hearing you say that, cause if you said it it must of been true. on top of that you always knew what her dad thought, the two of you always got alone so well and that was one of the reasons alexia loved you.

twiddling your hand in your lap “why didn’t you ever try to reach out”

“i wanted to respect your boundaries even if it hurt me not to and i really wanted to but if you wanted to talk to me you would of and you clearly didn’t”

“i love you enough to leave you alone if that’s what you want”

and it was. at least that’s what you thought you wanted. and any time you thought otherwise you remembered exactly why you left all those years ago. but that wasn’t really her and you knew that but what’s gonna stop her from acting like that towards you again. so you said that even if you didn’t truly mean it.

“yeah that’s what i want”

the words not sounding convincing to any of you but neither of you said a thing. you got up and went home free of any thoughts of alexia and she only ended up having more thoughts of you even though every bone of her body tried not to.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

july 2012

everything slowly went downhill with the more goals she scored and games she played, the more she changed. while alexia career was growing so was your as you stated to post your photos online as it got recognition.

at the start she was happy at every achievement you had seeing just how happy it made you. whenever you had an exhibition and if she was free she was there and if she couldn’t her family we always be there no matter what.

slowly she would start missing them even if she had a day off and it was fine at the seeing as she had a packed schedule and was probably tired but after the fifth time it just became annoying her family would ask you where she was a you would have to come up with some stupid excuse seeing as you didn’t even know why.

then her dad died which expectedly changed her seeing how close she was to him. his death hurt you as over the years the two of you created a bond going to alexia games together. you kept it together until she was out, but instead of crying as everyone else did she took it out on you.

“ale, it okay to cry. it’s a natural thing to do you don’t need to hide that from me”

“god mila! why can’t you just leave me alone twenty four seven your on my case. i can never have a moment to myself. your always there even when i’m out your texting me every second trying to see how i am”

the words coming out of her mouth with no look of regret in her eyes or an attempt to apologise to you. “sorry, i’ll just go for a walk” your words said small and barley to be heard if it wasn’t for her being right next to you.

you tried to play this off as a one time thing but it wasn’t. it happened every day and a you put up with it until it was all to much.

you had to leave.

so while she was with her family one night you packed all your things leaving behind all the photos that you put up of the two of you, the decorations that you found and put up to fill the rooms and make it feel like home.

only leaving behind a letter.

alexia came home late that night going straight to the bed and stopping agh the door seeing as you weren’t laying in it, her eyes roaming the room to look for a sign of you only to see the wardrobe empty of your clothes. she rushed through their place searching every room for a sign of you but each one she saw less with each piece of your stuff being gone but a letter addressed to her.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

present day

it was late when you got the call. the ringing jolting you awake from your sleep. at first you were annoyed, who would call you at this hour but then you saw the contact name.

my albs 💞

she hadn’t called you since you broke up with alexia, so it must be important right? her words sounded all jumbled up due to your tiredness and the only words you got was.

“alexia, she’s hurt. please come”

and how couldn’t you, not when alba sounded like that, so you got on the next flight to england. your bags had clothes that didn’t even match due to how you just chucked your clothes in there.

when you got to the hospital, you saw both alba and eli standing outside of a room. the second alba saw you she ran into your arms holding you tight making sure you wouldn’t leave. the second you pulled away you immediately pulled eli into a hug from the first time in over ten years. that hug only made you realise just how much you missed her.

“what happened?”

“she’s done her acl” you paused when you heard that, obviously you knew how bad an acl was, ana knew a few people who did theirs and she would talk to you about how severe it could be. how it was something no footballer wanted to do in their career.

alba looked at you with guilt all over her face “i know that you said you wanted her to leave you alone, but she doesn’t want the surgery and we can’t convince her. she’s saying she deserves it and i don’t know why she would think that. but i know she’ll listen to you and do it if she asks you”

glancing through the glass at alexia who was sleeping and well she looked peaceful. she looks the same as she did when she was younger and you two would sleep at each other.

looking defeated “fine, i’ll do it. but only cause you asked”

opening the door and you were just about to enter when a hand grabbed your wrist “thank you mila” eli spoke softly really appreciating what you were doing even though she knew it wasn’t easy for you.

sitting on the edge of her hospital bed, gently grabbing her hand and whispering her name sounding hesitant which you were. you said you never wanted to see her again and here you are sat beside her going to convince her to get the surgery just to leave again.

after saying her name a few times her eyes started to open, blinking a few times to make sure she was really seeing her and it wasn’t the drugs she was on.

her voice was weak, barely to be heard “mila”

“yeah i’m here alexia, im here”

hearing these words she finally broke down, tears rolling down her cheeks as she collapsed in your lap.

“do the surgery ale, please” she immediately shook her head no “alexia please just do the surgery. you need to get it done okay”

“i can’t mila, i can’t. i deserve it okay i deserve this acl for every bad thing that i’ve done in my life” finally looking up at you “for everything i’ve done to you, this is my karma and im okay with that”

“alexia just do the surgery please. i’ll never be able to live with myself if you didn’t do it cause of me ale. so don’t do it for yourself do it for me please?”

she nodded weakly she could never say no to you even when you were teenagers. she held on to you tighter than even scared you were gonna disappear if she ever let go. but after a while the drugs did get the best of her making her fall into a sleep.

outside the room alexia’s family were met with some of her teammates who came to see how she was doing.

mapi was the first to speak up about what everyone was thinking “so she’s the girl alexia still in love with. also how’d you get her here cause last i heard she wanted nothing to do with ale”

“she doesn’t. i begged her to come because i knew she was the only one who could convince her”

their gaze fell on to the two of you. your hand stroking alexia’s hair as she rested in your lap. to alba and eli they just saw the teenage version on you guys, as they’d always catch you two like that. and to her teammates it looked like two girls who are still very much in love.

gently you picked up alexa’s arm trying your hardest not to wake her up. once free you glanced at her seeing her stir around for a bit then finally settling again.

alba and eli looked at you with a little hope in their eyes “so, did you get her to do it?”

nodding yes “she thinks she deserves it because of what happened between the us.”

“thank you, mila. i know this isn’t ideal so thank you for convincing her to do it” eli hugged you tightly to show her thanks.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

july 2012

dear alexia my love,

i’m sorry.

i tried to stay strong and stick with you but i couldn’t. each day i leave the house and i dread coming back knowing that the second i walk through that door your going to complain about something that i’ve done or that i annoy you to much and care about you to much. i’m sorry that i make you feel that way all i wanted to do was try and give you some sort of comfort in this hard time.

i don’t think in knew that i was gay when we first met but i knew that you were going to be an important part of my life. i think that i’ve loved you since that day.

i miss when we’d actually go out for dinner or even go to your parents so i could see your family who i’ve grown to love over the years. i miss when i’d got to your games and it would be care free seeing you balance me and football.

losing your dad was the hardest thing you’ll ever go through and i miss him to i haven’t show you as i try to stay strong for you but i miss him and i feel guilty saying that seeing as he’s your dad and he was only ever i guess my girlfriends dad. but i miss our weekly drives to your games where we’d laugh about anything and he’d teach me some more phrases in catalan as i’m still not completely fluent and in return i’d teach him some swiss german and even though his pronunciation wasn’t the best his heart was in a good place and he put in an effort.

in a time where you need me the most and need the ones you love most around you, well i think i’m one of them at least and i know deciding to leave you now of all times is cruel but i can’t go on like this.

i wish i could stay strong and make it through this rough patch but we weren’t good even before he died you’d miss my exhibitions you said you were going to and wouldn’t even tell me why and i’d have to lie to your family as to why you weren’t there but i can’t do this anymore i’m so sad in our relationship. i really did try to push through but every day i do something wrong in your eyes and i just let you shout at me.

that not healthy.

so goodbye ale i wish you the best in your life and i’ll love you forever. i really wish we could be better but maybe we’re just not meant for each other and that okay. in another lifetime we got married and had kids, you’ll get every award for club and country ( i still think you can do it in this one ) and i’ll be right by you’re side. but it’s just a dream, a what if.

i’ll never regret meeting you.

love from

your mila or just mila now i guess

and for the first time in weeks alexia cried.

she cried for you at first but slowly it was for her dad and then for her actions towards you. she saw it now and in the time where she needed you most to hold her and tell her it was alright you weren’t there and it was all her fault and she knew it was.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

present day

not that any of you guys saw it but alexia tearing her acl had one good thing come out of it and that was you talking to her again.

at first it was checking up on her, seeing how she was even making some food for her on her worst day.

you were the only person she let see that side of her.

being in her life again made it all worth it in her eyes. you actually smiled at her again instead of groaning in annoyance whenever you saw her.

the world finally saw alexia in love in her documentary. they saw the genuine smile that you brought to her face. they saw a side of alexia they’d never seen before, her being in love.

it showed you two just doing little things nothing that would indicate that you were together, but enough to know that she cared about you deeply.

the fans fought it made sense alexia ‘dating’ the coaches daughter of the men’s teams. it made sense to them why he’d always had a closer relationship with alexia, how he sent her a birthday wish or even how she’d be seen at the men’s game more than the others.

you’re dad never talked about her not after the first time where you burst out crying.

one episode stood out to her fans specifically it was an evening at eli’s place the two of you sat next to each other your head resting on hey shoulder. alexia whispering some joke about her sister in your ear which made you hit her saying that it was rude. then there was a clip of you dancing with one of her nieces while she looked at you like a lovesick fool.

it was late at night when she said she wanted to take you somewhere.

“is the blindfold really necessary” you laughed while alexia hand guided you making sure you didn’t trip or fall. which was no help as you still managed to do so.

“yes now shush”

you finally came to a stop “okay perfect”

she gently pulled the blindfold off and place was too familiar. it was where you first met her.

looking at the pitch and seeing just how much has changed since you’ve last been here “how’d you ever get us in here”

“i said i’d come one day and talk to the team” you both knew how much she hated public speaking but if this worked it be worth it.

“so any reason you took us here of all places. we both know how much you hated school” and she did the only positive about going was that she got to see you.

and then she said it.

“i did it on purpose” you looked at her completely confused about what she was talking about “i kicked the ball at you on purpose”

“i saw you sat up there and you looked so cute and i just wanted to talk to you and the first thing that came to my mind was to do that cause then i’d have to come up and apologise”

you busted out in laughter at the confession and her rosey cheeks “i know” causing her face to be full of embarrassment.

“what”

“i’m not dumb okay. i saw how controlled you were on the pitch you wouldn’t make a silly mistake like that if it wasn’t on purpose. i just never said anything cause i knew you would be embarrassed”

her gaze was now anywhere but you. all these years you knew and you never said a word till ten years later. if alba found this out she’d be dying of laughter at how awkward her sister can be at times.

scratching the side of her neck “i thought i was was slick about it but i guess not”

“i found it cute” making her checks go ever darker “but i’m still confused as to why we’re here”

“yes i nearly forgot” talking a deep breath in to calm her nerves “give me another chance”

your eyes widened. sure you thought about alexia like that again since the two of you started talking but what if that happened again.

“i know that our story hasn’t been the easiest but your the love of my life okay. being without you all those years was torture and seeing you with my family only makes me want to be with you more. but i don’t want to rush you, i wanted to show you that i’ve changed and that i’ll never treat you like how i did before”

“so mila crnogorčević please be my girl again”

option one ) you could say yes and do what you honestly wanted to do since talking to her again. you were still very much if not more in love with her than ever. it would end with the two of you would get married and have kids or breaking up again but then at least you’d know it wasn’t meant to be.

option two ) say no and keep your heart safe from what you felt all those years ago.

you were torn you wanted to say yes but at the same time you didn’t.

but the truth was that you missed her. you missed when she’d grab your hand when she could tell you were nervous. you missed waking up from her kissing your back. you missed when she’d run straight for you after a match. you ever missed her annoying you over the littlest thing.

you just missed her.

“mila—” she didn’t even get to finish the sentence before your lips placed themselves on her’s exactly like her’s did in the bathroom in camp nou all those years ago.

“so i’m gonna take that as a yes” speaking between kisses not wanting to stop at all “yes alexia now shut up and kiss me”

and she did without a second thought.

[starlostjisung]

hi! can i request stray kids 9th member au, where the reader has been feeling down and the boys plot to make her feel better?

hiiii!!!

i loved this idea, thanks for sending it and i hope you like this 🩷

learning to breathe again

PAIRING: skz x 9th!member (platonic)

GENRE: angst, comfort

WC: 2.1k

CW: reader is overworked

SUMMARY: with a new comeback just around the corner, you felt everything: the pressure, the chaos, the anxiety. you pushed yourself through it but you needed the guys to help you breathe again

you had known from the start that being in a co-ed group would be difficult, especially when that group would consist of 8 boys and just 1 girl. this had never happened before.

however, you had known the boys for a long time, after being a trainee for almost as long as chan. that’s why when chan told you that he was choosing the members for a group and he wanted you in it, you agreed. immediately. there was no doubt in your mind that you could do this with the boys, and that you wanted to do it.

fast forward to almost a decade later, you had it all. or at least a lot of things you had dreamed about when you started. you had debuted, released a lot of albums, won awards and went on tours many times. you still had a lot of things that you wanted to achieve as a group, but there was also a lot of pride in all of the things you had achieved already.

it was thanks to the love and support of fans, family and friends. you knew that of course. but it was also thanks to the hard work that all 9 of you put. because you worked. a lot.

you loved your job, you would never change it for anything nor would you take it for granted. but there were times when it could be suffocating. when instead of motivating you to go on, it would only push you to the ground and make you think this wasn’t meant for you. that you didn’t fit in this world. especially when you felt like the world was demanding more of you just because you were a girl in a group full of boys.

the good thing about being in a group is that whenever one of you was feeling down, when that person felt the weight of the world on their shoulders, there would be 8 other people taking that pressure from their shoulders and grabbing their hands to walk the same path together, not leaving anyone behind.

and that was the case for you at the moment.

you were working on your next comeback, which was coming very soon. this is always an exciting time but it’s also really stressful and tiring.

comebacks meant recording sessions, dance practices, shooting music videos, photo sessions for the album, interviews, promo, travels… and right now, you were not feeling it.

you had been in the studio all evening recording with bang chan and changbin. the three of you were recording some parts that were missing in a couple of songs. you were all exhausted but you had to do it.

“okay, y/n, you ready?” chan asked you as you went inside the booth to record

“yeah, ready”

he played the track and you got ready to sing your lines. the first time you did it you came in late, so you started all over again. the second time, you were early. the third time, was good but you felt you could do better.

this went on for some time until you finally hit it right, “okay, this is perfect, we got it”, chan said

however, you were not completely sure, “you sure chan? i think i could do better with another try”

“i-i mean, it was perfect y/n, but if you’re not happy and want to do it again, it’s fine, there’s no problem”, changbin said

you looked at them and saw how exhausted they were, not because of you, but because of all of the work you had been doing these last few weeks or months, you didn’t even know at this point

“well if you’re both happy with this take we’ll leave this one, yeah, let’s go with this one”, you told them and left the recording booth

“right, so we have to mix the harmonies of this part and then add the chorus, and this one would be done” you heard changbin and chan talking with the producer so you took that as your cue to leave

“guys, if you don’t need me anymore, i’m going to go home, if that’s okay”

the boys shared a look because this wasn’t normal, you would always stay with them and watch them work on the songs once you were finished recording your parts. it was like a tradition you had with 3racha

“mmm, yeah, if that’s what you wanna do you can go home y/n” chan said

with that, you said your goodbyes and left the studio, leaving the boys a bit worried about you

“okay let’s go from the top, ready? 5, 6, 5, 6, 7, 8” the choreographer said

the music started and you all got into positions. you were practicing the choreo for the title track of the comeback. you were going to shoot the video for it next week, so now you were all immersed in learning the choreo and different movements and positions you would have to do throughout the video.

your choreos are always demanding and need a lot of energy, but you had never had any problems remembering or learning them.

of course you would slip here and there, but that was expected, you were human. but your brain was not cooperating with you today. at all.

you saw the moves, you tried to learn them and do them, and you did. but you felt like you weren’t doing them right. that you were late with the music. that you moved the wrong way. that you went to positions that weren’t yours.

the boys could see that. they could see that even though you were giving your all today - just like any other day- something was wrong with you, and had been for a while, ever since chan and changbin first realised it that day in the studio.

the song finished and you felt like you were going to collapse, “okay, let’s rest for a bit, we’ll be back in 5”, the choreographer said

as soon as he left the practice room, a bottle of water was firmly placed in your hand

“drink it, you look like you’re going to faint”, it was lee know, always looking out for you

“i feel like i’m going to”

“are you okay? you look a bit out of it today”

“i don’t know, i feel like even though i’m trying, i just don’t get there. i’m late with the movements, i mix the places where i have to be, i’m confused with everything”

“y/n, it’s normal, we’re still learning the choreo, this is new”

“but this has never happened before minho”, you were getting really frustrated now

“not every choreo is the same, nor do we learn everything easily y/n, you should know this by now”

“i know but it’s just-“

“just nothing, y/n, don’t beat yourself up for this. we still have time before we shoot the video. take it easy, don’t push yourself too much”, and with that he left to get ready to start practice again

“okay, everybody ready? let’s start the track”, as soon as the choreographer was back, you all got into position and started again. you tried to remember what lee know had told you, but you just couldn’t do it. you had never had this type of problems, you had always been perfect, so why weren’t you perfect now?

this went on for a couple of weeks and all of the boys noticed this. they noticed the mistakes during dance practices, the many takes you wanted to do each time you recorded, the early morning and late nights you would spend at the company practicing alone, whether it was the choreos or the lines you would have to record that day.

they knew they had to do something before you broke down completely.

that’s why they decided to spend the day off with you, trying to cheer you up and make you forget everything that was pushing you down. hopefully their plan would work out.

they decided you would all have a lazy and quiet day at home, you were all exhausted and that’s what you all needed. they knew you weren’t going to wake up early - you were definitely not an early bird - so all of the guys went to the dorm you were sharing with seungmin and felix and started to get everything ready.

they were going to cook some cupcakes because they knew they were your favourite - well chan and lee know were going to cook, seungmin and felix weren’t allowed anywhere close the kitchen even though it was their dorm.

the rest of the boys were in charge of the living room. they had to prepare the sofas, blankets, snacks, tv ready with your favourite show. everything you would need for a day when you didn’t have to leave the couch, unless it was to go to the bathroom.

surprisingly, they were able to prepare everything on time, cupcakes included, so when you finally woke up and went to the living room you were surprised to say the least.

“wh-what’s all this?”, you looked around, surprised to see not only felix and seungmin, but all of the guys there, and your living room turned into a… well you didn’t know what it was but there were blankets and pillows everywhere. and snacks. and cupcakes.

“we’re having a day off all together!”, han told you

“yeah, just like we did just after we debuted”, hyunjin continued

it’s true, whenever you had a day off after you debuted - a rare occurrence to be honest - you would just lay around in your shared dorm and do absolutely nothing. just being together and talking and joking was enough. you were happy with that and you missed it.

“but why? why did you do all this?”, you asked them while pointing at the food, the living room, everything

felix grabbed your hand and guided you to sit down next to him, “y/n, we know you have been feeling down for a bit, you know you can always come to any of us and we will always help you, we are a family, and we will always be there for each other”

you looked him in the eyes and felt yours watering, “i know it’s just… i don’t know what’s wrong with me, i’m usually not like this. comebacks are always stressful for all of us but i never have any problems with them but this time around… i don’t know, i feel like i can’t do it and i just didn’t want to put more in your plates, so i thought that i would just push through it and it would go away but i can’t do it anymore”

and that’s when you broke. you let it all out. the stress. the fear. the exhaustion. you knew you were in a safe place to fall, the boys were there to pick you up. but you just needed to let it all out. you needed to breathe.

“hey, y/n, look at me, it’s okay, we got you, we’re here”, it was chan’s now, who was sat on your other side. he pulled you to him and hugged you, “it’s completely normal to go through difficult times, but please, let us know when this is happening. you’re always there for us, and we want to be there for you the same way, okay?”

you nodded against his chest

“pinky promise?”, you saw changbin placing his pinky right in front of your face

you laughed at his antics, “pinky promise”, you told him while lacing your fingers together

“you’re one of the strongest people i know, you’re gonna get through this, i’m sure of it”, it was han this time

you saw all the boys agreeing with him, and felt chan hugging you a bit tighter

“okay, it’s time for breakfast now, come on everybody let’s eat those cupcakes and don’t worry y/n, seungmin and felix didn’t cook any of this so there’s no risk of suffering indigestion or something like that” i.n told you and you saw seungmin getting up to hit him, “ouch”, he said while rubbing his arm

“you deserved it”, seungmin told him

you laughed at the two maknaes of the group and felt truly happy for the first time in a long time.

you looked around the room and saw all of the boys eating, joking and playing with each other, and that’s when you knew everything was going to be fine.

you could finally breathe again