#let me know if i need to take this down and put it on my own blog

[gallusrostromegalus]

Feeling despair over the general state of things? Blorbo from your shows not enough to hold the horrors at bay? Need something healthier to be insane about? Need to go outside more?

Want to become a pokemon trainer like you dreamed of when you were ten?

MERLIN BIRD ID APP BY CORNELL UNIVERSITY

It's a fun little app that lets you use your phone to identify birds by song. You hear a song, open the app, let it listen for a moment and it tells you what the hell is making that noise (if it's a bird), and shows you a picture of the little feathery bastards, so you can squint at the surrounding shrubbery with a better idea of WHAT you're looking for.

After thinking "Man, I wish I had that app to ID that lovely bird song!" and then completely forgetting that I wanted to do that by the time I got back to WiFi approximately five million times, I have finally managed to install it.

Friends.

I am becoming a pokemon trainer.

This is very literally like the Pokemon anime where Ash would find some godforsaken beast in the shrubbery and immediately whip out his Pokedex to Identify it. I will be out walking the dogs and will hear... Something? And now I can find out what the hell it is! Curiosity immediately rewarded!

And that's one hell of a dopamine hit.

You can increase the immersion into the pokemon trainer by also having Dogs (TM) with you. It's like having a starter pokemon, if your starter refused to go in the ball and was less keen on battling wild pokemon so much as generally yelling at, attempting to micromanage, or just straight-up eating them.

My dogs (functionally an off-brand Houndoom and Yamper-if-it-was-a-psychic-type) are thrilled that they're getting this much walkies, if somewhat confused by my stopping on the trail at random intervals to wave my phone around. They're Very Excited by me taking new, circuitous routes around the lake to get closer to trees and bushes to pick up songs because my phone was old when the pandemic started and the mic sucks. I'm pretty sure it's a matter of time before one or both of them figure out that I'm following birdsong and then I'll really be up shit creek because they fucking LOVE going on a hunt for something, and know that if they alert at something correctly at least a few times, I'll believe them when they pretend to alert at something. Like say, pretending they hear another bird, no I promise it's real you're just a comparatively deaf-ass human no I'm not trying to extend walkies how could you say that-

FURTHERMORE, Merlin Bird ID will keep a life list for you.

That's right.

You can put Birds in your Pokedex to fill it out.

And boy fucking howdy does my autistic ass love collecting things/completing sets, and that "congratulations, new lifer!" Thing lights up my brain like nothing else. I saw a blue grosbeak for the first time ever last night because the app told me ITS BLUE LOOK FOR SOMETHING BLUE!! AND BEHOLD, IT WAS THE BLUEST OF BIRDS!! I sailed through breakfast with my in-laws, a normally harrowing experience, on that high and I'm still going.

Granted, once the Blue Grossbeak took off and I was released from its enchantment, I realized that Herschel was rolling in half of a dessicated fish carcass while Charleston was attempting to work down the other half at speed, but that's just the joy of pet ownership.

...what I need to do now is figure out how to enter birds I can see that are not making noise into the list. There's so many ducks here, and all of them shut the hell up whenever the hounds and I are near.

Anyway,

MERLIN BIRD ID APP BY CORNELL LABS!!

Go insane in a way that makes you go outside and touch grass!

[cityselcouth]

it isn't midnight yet

pairing: caleb x reader

summary: when you realise the shift in your feelings for Caleb isn't as new as you thought and nowhere as fleeting as you hoped, wanting him turns unbearable. now, it's fifteen minutes to midnight, his birthday is almost over, and all you know is that you don't want to spend any more time avoiding what could be.

themes: childhood friends to lovers, complicated relationship dynamincs, fluff, explicit smut, so much sexual tension and build up, yearning, canon compliant, petnames, profanity, lots of making out, implied first time but whatever, nipple sucking, fingering, oral (fem receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, floor sex like seriously they fuck all over it lmao, a smidge of edging, multiple rounds, yapping during sex, praise kink, mentions of events from farspace deprivation and references to his other cards, mc is painfully desperate which is accurate for this card, they match each others freak

wc: 16.3k (don't look at me i'm ashamed)

playlist: why by shawn mendes, i wanna be yours by the arctic monkeys, dress by taylor swift, ride by somo, birthday dance by josh levi

lyns notes: IGNORE HOW LATE THIS IS PLEASE AND THANK YOU. remember when this was supposed to be short? yep. this is my very self-indulgent adaptation of no-return night! i've watched the kindled so many times it should be considered shameful and needed to be insane about it. i've unlocked levels of down bad previously unknown to man, and i have channelled those exact vibes into mc. happy birthday caleb. god bless.

For as long as you could remember, Caleb had always been just out of your reach. 

In a literal sense, that was completely incorrect. Growing up with him under the same roof meant that all your earliest memories had him embedded in them in some way or another. He had always been around, always ready to catch you if you fell or show you the way back home if you ever got lost. Older, dependable, constant; there was no end to the number of ways you could describe his presence in your life. 

But for the past couple of months, the one you’d say fit the best would be confusing.

“Sooooo, when are you going to be in Skyhaven?”

You gripped your phone a little tighter, pressing a finger to the scanner of your door and pushing it open. “Who said I was coming to Skyhaven?”

“You’ve asked me about my schedule, and my birthday is this week. It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.” Caleb’s voice took on that teasing lilt you were so familiar with, and you knew the face he was probably making right now: a knowing grin paired with a raise of his eyebrows. 

“So much for trying to surprise you,” you muttered, kicking off your shoes by the doorway and walking into your apartment. “Can’t you let me at least think I’ve succeeded for once?”

“No can do. Let me know when you’re arriving so I can pick you up.” You could practically hear the smile in his voice. You unzipped the front part of your hunter uniform and tossed the corset into the laundry basket, rolling your shoulders to release the tension you had been carrying around. 

“No.”

A pause. “No?”

“The least you can do is let my arrival be a surprise.” 

He chuckled softly, and for some maddening reason, the sound made you stop whatever you were doing and listen. “Alright.” He relented, light and airy, “I can’t wait to see you.”

The drop in his tone, the way he stressed the word, something about it all made you bite the inside of your cheek hard. “Me too,” you admitted after a second, ignoring how your throat had gone dry. “I uh….gotta go. Bye, Caleb.”

“See ya.”

Ending the call, you heaved a sigh of relief and collapsed onto your couch. You pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes and stayed like that for a couple of minutes, trying your hardest to calm the hammering of your heart. The feeling was similar to when you were running high on adrenaline while facing a particularly dangerous wanderer.

But why on earth were you experiencing that now? 

Well, it wasn’t just now. He’d say something sweet, or stare at you for a beat too long, and it would feel as if all the air had been knocked out of your lungs, which confused you to no end. You had always known Caleb was a charming person; it was pretty obvious from how popular he had been in school as well as during his university days, but for the most part, you had been fairly immune. 

Lately, however, it seemed like that immunity of yours had worn off, and with it, the rose-tinted glasses you had been wearing your entire childhood when it came to him. As a child, you had thought that his tendency to hover around you and need to always be by your side was simply because he was fond of you. He was the older kid who had to take care of you, and for a while, you had assumed he looked at it as some sort of duty.

But now….

Caleb was the most important person in your life. When the explosion took place and he had been ripped out of it, the grief you felt was insurmountable. You could hardly process the fact that the boy you had turned to for everything was gone, leaving you with a gaping void in your heart that you couldn’t fill, no matter how much you tried. Even throwing yourself into your work hadn’t helped soothe the pain of losing him, because he was so intertwined with everything that made you you, from the way you carried yourself to how you held your gun. 

And then he returned from the dead, except he hadn’t ever actually been dead. The light in his eyes had dimmed, and he donned a uniform that turned him into someone you hardly recognised, but it was still him. The very same Caleb who faced danger with you now tried his hardest to keep you from it, terrified that he’d lose you. He held you tighter, kept you closer, and the way he looked at you was the same as it had always been, but there was something much more intense about it. Less subtle.

It wasn’t like you were any better. All the secrets he seemed to be keeping drove you crazy, and even when he was right in front of you, it still felt like he was worlds apart. You did everything you could to keep him as close as you could, to understand him better, even when it consisted of putting yourself in danger. The fiasco with the chip had been impulsive and risky, but he had gotten you out of it and still didn’t know you remembered everything that had happened. 

Perhaps it was the shock of losing him and then getting him back that caused something to shift inside of you. Now, you noticed how he lingered, feeling it in your bones every time he was around. His touch would have you freeze and hesitate in ways you never would have before. It wasn’t just innocent admiration you held for him anymore; it was much deeper than you thought it could be. At first, you told yourself it was just because you were so relieved to have him back, but as they grew more intense, you knew that those feelings were here to stay.

The territory you were navigating was so unfamiliar, and as a result, you shied away from your feelings time and time again. He’d get closer, and you’d take three steps back, forcing yourself to turn a blind eye to what was right in front of you in order to avoid messing up what you already had. You so badly wanted him to let you in, but constantly stumbled back whenever you felt yourself getting too close to the truth.

And Caleb never crossed the line. It didn’t matter how long he stared or how close he’d pull you, the moment you hesitated, he’d let you go. 

You weren’t as hopelessly oblivious as you let on; you were aware of how he felt because his feelings were a mirror of your own, even if you refused to look at them. You could see it in his eyes, how they’d narrow and go slightly hazy when he looked at you for too long. How his jaw would clench and his throat would bob, like he was fighting a war with his mind. 

Being with him was the most natural thing in the world to you, but it was moments like those that made you feel greedy for more. Your feelings for him weren’t platonic anymore.

And maybe they had never been platonic in the first place. Not really, anyway. Just friends didn’t use your body wash because it smelled like you, or promise not to get a girlfriend because you and Gran were all he needed. Friends didn’t pretend to date each other to ward off other people, and they definitely didn’t get jealous when the other paid attention to someone else. 

Opening your eyes, you aimlessly stared at the ceiling as thoughts of Caleb rolled around in your head. Thinking of him like this had originally filled you with immense guilt, considering the history you shared and how fragile everything had seemed when he reappeared. It felt almost forbidden to want more, a fruit you desperately wanted to taste but were instructed never to touch. It hung from a tree whose branches were much too high for you to reach, even when you stood on your tip-toes.

Just out of reach. 

Sitting up, you pulled yourself together and decided to focus on the task at hand. Caleb’s birthday was in less than a week, and you still had absolutely no idea what you were going to give him as a gift. Frustratingly enough, Caleb was the type of person to never talk about the things he wanted. The two of you had spent almost every birthday together, so you had pretty much given him every gift you could think he’d like, and you didn’t think he needed another three thousand-piece model to put together.

Your life would be so much easier if he were straight with you and just said what he wanted.

About gifts, of course. Nothing else.

“Should I call Gideon?”

Caleb sighed, leaning back in his chair as he examined the hologram reports in front of him half-heartedly. “Why?”

“What do you mean, ‘why’? He’s your friend, that’s why.” You snickered on the other end of the call. He could hear you shuffling around in your apartment, knowing how you could never stay still for more than ten minutes. 

“And?”

“I’m trying to plan a party for you.” You said, so obviously exasperated by his demeanour. “Can you not make my job harder?”

He smiled to himself at your grumbling, “Where's the fun in that? Besides, I don’t even want a party. Who else would I even call? Liam?”

Your silence spoke louder than your words ever could. “Right, but I still want to do something big for your birthday.” The pout that was undoubtedly on your lips was audible in the way you spoke, stubborn and insistent. “I want it to be special. It’s the first time we’re celebrating your birthday after… you know.”

Of course, he knew. 

“Have you considered that I only want to celebrate with you?” 

The statement was reckless, but he couldn’t help but indulge in that selfish wish. His twenty-fifth birthday had been one he spent up above the clouds in Skyhaven, alone, and supposedly dead to all who knew him. Honestly, he couldn’t have cared less about other people, but not having you by his side was the thing that hit him the hardest. Now, most of the people he had once called friends still thought he was dead, and his old life was nothing more than a distant memory.

You were all he had.

“Are you sure?” 

You sounded uncertain, like you couldn’t fathom the idea. When you were younger, he always had a party of some sort, and with his high school popularity, he was constantly surrounded by friends, but none of them ever held a candle to you. At the end of each birthday, it would always just be him and you, sneaking off to be away from the crowd and only with each other. As time went on, this tradition dwindled until the chance to get away from it all disappeared.

Even now, it sometimes felt as if he was running out of time; every second with you felt fleeting and precious. He wanted so badly to make up for the ten months he had been out of your life for, because when he found you again, there was so much he realised he didn’t know anymore. 

“It’ll be special if you’re there,” he swiped the reports away. “That’s all I want.”

There was a time when he was sure he’d never be able to let himself want more, even when he subconsciously let himself have it. Every time he pushed against the boundaries he had set for himself, you let him through without a single complaint, even pulling him closer when you didn’t quite understand what you were doing. 

“You’re always so greedy when it comes to my time.” The affectionate lilt in your voice made itself known even through the forced annoyance. He smiled

“You always let me be.”

To say you were frustrated would be an understatement. 

Caleb’s birthday, on all accounts, should have been considered a success. He wore the outfit you had gotten him, he loved the cake, and even the movie screening you had planned worked out pretty well, even if the movie was pretty boring. He seemed overjoyed at every little thing you had done, but to you, the day had felt like a repeat of every other birthday you had celebrated in the past. 

And as a result, as any well-adjusted person would, you had acted like a total lunatic the entire day. 

Instance number one: When he hugged you and said that the new outfit needed your scent on it for people to know you were together. You heard those words and instantly froze, your brain running at a mile a minute at the implication of it, even when you knew that the two of you weren’t actually together. 

Number two: “Eyes on the road.”

Getting caught staring at his chest had to be one of the top ten most embarrassing moments of your life. Honestly, who could blame you when that robot had announced it so loudly? Curiosity was a natural thing, and you were simply fulfilling that, but you were sure he hadn’t missed the follow-up glances you had taken, even if you had done your best to be subtle. Perhaps he hadn’t called you out those times for your sake. 

You didn’t even want to think about the way you shivered when he confessed he was always jealous. Pathetic. Mortifying. You were sure you were going insane, or something along those lines. 

Number three: your incessant questioning. Asking if he was enjoying his birthday, if it had all been to his liking and if he was having a good time over and over again, so anxious. He even asked you if the answer to that question was important to you for some reason. 

Damn him for being able to read you so well. As always, he was right, but it wasn’t the question that you felt was important, but rather the answer that would follow. You desperately wanted to know if he was content with how his birthday was going so far, or if he wanted more. 

But then you glanced at his shelves and caught sight of all the frames, each one having pictures of him and you. You on his back, another with you kissing his cheek at your graduation, him holding the back of your head as he looked down at you with a look in his eyes so achingly familiar that it made you snap out of it. You recalled how, instead of telling him why the question was important, you began talking. 

“Before…” you trailed off, swallowing the knot that appeared in your throat every time you spoke of the explosion. “I took you for granted. You were like the sun, and the sun is just in the sky, always shining. It’s a part of my life, so I assumed it would always be there.” In all honesty, you weren’t sure if you were making any sense, but you couldn’t exactly stop now.

A half smile laced his lips. “I see we’re talking about a very serious topic now.” 

You did your best to appear as casual as possible, ignoring the way your heart hammered in your chest as you shrugged slightly. He instantly saw through the facade, and in typical Caleb fashion, poked your cheek playfully, leaning down just a little bit. “The sun doesn’t cease to exist just because you forgot to look up. It’ll always shine wherever you can see it.”

You stared at him when he said that, taking in everything about him. The reassuring squeeze on your shoulder, the gentle way he said it, and in that moment, you saw the Caleb you grew up with. The boy who did his utmost to protect you at every corner, the one whose hand you held onto whenever you had a nightmare and couldn’t go back to sleep without him crawling into your bed and holding you. Admirable, dependable, something worthwhile looking up to. 

“But back then, I never thought about how the sun might feel a little lonely, up there all by itself.” Always waiting on you to catch up, but never making it an expectation. You glanced down at your lap as he exhaled in surprise at your revelation, thinking of how even now, just like the sun, he felt so out of reach, even though he was right next to you, forbidden for you to touch. 

“Maybe what drew me in was never the sun or its light. It was just you, Caleb. Even if you’re a dim white dwarf, a supernova, or a bunch of ruins….I wouldn’t care.”

Everything you said felt wrong. Too heavy on your tongue. A confession that would burn your tongue if you ever stripped it back and spoke the truth of it out loud. You didn’t even know if it was okay for you to say all this, however much you draped it in metaphors and flowery language. 

He seemed to be stunned into silence, and taking advantage of this, you forged on. “No matter what happens in the future, I just want us to stay like this.” You wrapped your arms around him, settling into the familiar cocoon of his embrace. “To be able to hold you close.”

There was something so painfully delicate between Caleb and you. A fault line of sorts that you usually tread on as carefully as you could, but today, you had stomped all over it without any grace whatsoever. 

“Y/n.” He breathed out your name after what felt like ages, leaning down until his mouth was just by your ear. “Time and time again, you’ve always allowed me to want more than what I thought was possible.” You could feel his breath on your skin, making your mind go completely blank with its warmth, your own breath hitching as he hugged you back. 

It still wasn’t enough.

That conversation replayed in your head, frustration churning around inside of you until it felt like it was at a boiling point. How else were you supposed to explain any of that behaviour, other than chalking it up to utter lunacy?

Freshly showered, you now stood in front of the mirror, feeling more ridiculous than ever. A sense of restlessness simmered in your veins like an itch you couldn’t quite reach, warming your skin with an insatiable heat. Moonlight streamed through the windows of your room, illuminating the space enough for you not to have to switch any lights on as you inspected your reflection. 

The dress you had on right now was a gorgeous baby blue number that stopped a little above your mid-thigh, made of tastefully shimmery fabric. The straps were black ribbons, tied in pretty bows on top of your shoulders and wrapping you up like a present, deliberately chosen by you for that very detail. It matched the outfit you had picked out for him, but you hadn’t dared to wear it earlier. You even had shoes on, a pretty pair of black Mary Janes that tied the look together.

So there you were, all dolled up after showering and feeling like a total idiot, because what insane person made themselves a gift for someone they weren’t even with? The decision to purchase it had been an impulsive one, the result of another night filled with pent-up yearning and a need for your best friend that you still didn’t dare acknowledge.

Because he was Caleb,  those violet eyes you’ve grown up being watched by and that mischievous grin you had imprinted in your mind, completely impossible to forget. Your Caleb, but not exactly.

If Caleb was the sun, then you were Icarus.

And now, it was eleven forty-five p.m.

Fifteen minutes to midnight. Fifteen minutes until his birthday was over, and as the seconds passed, you could feel yourself being pulled away from the magic of the day. Your cowardice had won, keeping you from acting on all the feelings you had for him out of fear of ruining what you already had. 

Perhaps this was how it was meant to be. What you were so afraid to want was an idea you had only ever let yourself entertain in your dreams, and dreams belonged to the shade of night. Tomorrow would come, those dreams would be forgotten, and everything would go back to normal. Briefly, you allowed yourself to wonder if he was thinking of you right now, like you were thinking of him. When he closed his eyes tonight and fell asleep, would he dream of you too?

You turned away from the mirror and looked around the rest of the room, feeling extremely foolish. Crouching down, you began to unbuckle your heels when–

Footsteps.

You stilled, knowing that the only person the footsteps could have belonged to was Caleb. You had thought that you were the only one awake, but it seemed like he couldn’t sleep either. 

Was there a chance that he was awake for the same reasons as you? Momentarily, you wondered if he was just as frustrated as you were with how today had gone; exactly the same as all the years that had come before– all except for one little thing.

He hadn’t called you Pipsqueak. 

All your life, you had been his Pipsqueak, Pips, his one and only.  You couldn’t remember where the nickname had come from or when he had started using it, but it was a constant in the same way his presence was. You didn’t think you’d tolerate it from anyone but him, but now that you thought about it, he hadn’t called you that for a good while. It had just been your name, plain and simple.

Shutting your eyes, you let yourself be pulled back into that moment from an hour ago, with him holding you in his arms like letting you go would be a crime. You could still feel the warmth of his body through the layers of his clothing, and his heart beating in his chest. You could smell his cologne, and feel the sensation of his breath on your cheek as you held you close, so painfully aware of him as he overtook your every sense. 

The memory wasn’t enough, and right there, with fifteen minutes left for his birthday to be over, you knew that it would never be. 

Greed was a sin, and you were guilty. You wanted more than just the fleeting stares and charged tension that drove you crazy with anticipation for something you knew was never going to come. You were sick of waiting around when it was so clear he wanted what you did, too: to cross that line you had been balancing on for so long now. You wanted to feel his skin underneath your fingertips and sink into your emotions instead of hiding them. 

You wanted him.

The moonlight reflected off the candy tin that sat on your bedside table. Refusing to let yourself overthink this any longer, you picked it up and made your way to the living room.

Caleb was leaning back on the couch, legs spread, one arm draped over a cushion as his fingers drummed against it, and the other toying with the dog tag of his necklace. He hadn’t noticed you standing in the doorway just yet, his eyes trained on the tag pendant with something akin to reverence. He hadn’t even changed yet. 

The sight made your breath catch.

How many nights had he sat like this, looking at that necklace the same way he looked at you? You didn’t want it to be the only part of you he thought he had, because you wanted him to have it all, just as you wanted all of him. 

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you padded over to him. Immediately, his attention snapped to you as he let go of the pendant, a faint smile tickling his lips at your intrusion. 

“Is this the post-credits scene?”

Of course, he’d make a movie pun. Typically, his goofy one-liners would soothe any frayed nerves, but nothing of the sort happened this time.

“I just….remembered I haven’t given you your gift yet.” You said, mentally chastising yourself for how awkward your voice sounded. His eyes trailed over your figure appreciatively, taking in the sight of you in the dress that so obviously matched what he wore. 

“Right.” He sat forward, rested an arm on his knee, and looked away from you to collect himself, before that easy-going demeanour of his resurfaced once more. The switch was so subtle that if you weren’t so well-versed in every little thing about him, you might not have caught it.  “Well, I’m here.” 

Biting your lower lip, you took another step forward and held out the tin of candy. A minute ago, using it as your excuse had seemed like a good idea, but not anymore. More than anything, you just felt silly. 

Caleb blinked, taken aback at the way you thrust the tin in his direction. Scepticism bled into his expression as he stared at it, and then up at you, trying to figure out what you were playing at. He knew you like the back of his hand, and that included your tells for when you were hiding something, all of which you were currently exhibiting. From your shifty eyes to the way you were biting the inside of your cheek, he had seen it all before. 

He took the candy tin from your hand but kept his eyes on you. The intensity of his stare made that hesitation you were fighting against surge back, and suddenly, you were once again questioning if this was a good idea at all. What if it was too soon? 

“Now that you have your present, I should get to bed.” 

You stumbled over the words clumsily, wanting to get them out as quickly as possible so you could leave and abandon what you had started. Honestly, why on earth did you never think turning yourself into his gift would be a good idea? More importantly, where the hell did you get the short-lived confidence to go through with it? Spinning on your heels to leave the room, you felt an embarrassed flush of heat curl up your neck and travel to the apples of your cheeks, ashamed of yourself. 

He caught your wrist.

All these years, and nothing had changed about you when it came to wanting something but being too shy to ask for it. He had played dumb the whole day, despite being well aware of why your behaviour was so erratic. You were a language he was fluent in, and if there was one thing he was well-versed with, it was wanting you, and from the familiar look in your eyes that reflected what he so often saw in his own, he could only assume one thing. 

But he didn’t do a damn thing about it. At the end of the day, assumptions were just that, no matter how glaringly obvious the answer might have been. He held you close, but he had the patience of a saint and would wait as long as you needed him to.

For a moment, he loosened his grip on your wrist, giving you an out. The silent question was crystal clear through his actions: you could leave if you really wanted to and go to bed….or you could stay.

The two of you had spent your lives running after one another, pulling and pushing, locked in a stalemate of your own making. This was the first time you had ever tried to break free from it, and the first time he had ever tried to keep you there with him. Every other time, he had taken a step back the moment you were spooked, but now….

You didn’t take another step.

When he sensed that you had made your decision, he tightened his fingers around you and pulled you back, closer, until you were perched on one of his legs. You flailed for a second, steadying yourself by placing a hand on his shoulder, the sudden closeness making your mouth go dry.

“You used to always watch me open your gifts.”

He was too close. He wasn’t close enough. The low, knowing timbre of his voice made your head swim, and you barely even noticed how he wrapped his right arm around your waist until he tugged you even closer while he spoke, “And say how much I like them.”

Suddenly, your nose was right by his, almost brushing against each other. Your sharp intake of air wasn’t lost on him, nor was the way you rushed to compose yourself, readjusting your position on his lap so that you weren’t all up in his face. His arm remained secure around your waist, helping you maintain your balance on his thigh. 

Caleb popped open the lid of the tin and held it out to you, pinning you in place with a single look. “It’s not midnight yet. Don’t leave me, not until my birthday’s over.”

Keeping you close had always been of utmost importance to him. You had grown accustomed to him asking you to stay, not to leave, as if he lived every day thinking that you might. 

You were determined to prove him wrong. Picking up a yellow piece of candy from the scatter of other colourful ones inside, you pressed it to the seam of his lips and fed it to him, not daring to break eye contact even for a second, lest it break the spell both of you seemed to be under. Caleb winced once it was on his tongue and narrowed his eyes at you playfully, but there was no mistaking the heat that lay just under the surface of his gaze.

“Lemon flavoured,” he scoffed, equal parts disbelief and amusement, placing the tin on the coffee table. “Whenever you give me candy, it's always the sourest one.” 

Hand back on his shoulder, you succumbed to his gravitational pull and leaned a little closer. “Don’t you like sour things?”

Growing up, you had watched him always grab the sour-flavoured things, from candy to even the sodas he had. Every time he needed to concentrate on something, he’d chew on a lemon slice. He had even suggested that little trick to you several times, insisting that it worked, and you watched and took it all in, just like you did for everything about him. You tucked the information away in your mind and subconsciously made use of it. 

So now, with the way he called you out, you found yourself wondering if he even liked sour things. Caleb saw through your misconception immediately, biting back a smile at your evident uncertainty. The tartness of anything sour helped him focus and grounded him to the moment, but it was by no means a preference. If anything, it was a reflex, one he had developed over the years of denying himself anything sweet.

And the sweetest thing of all was you.

“I think I’ll look forward to more changes after we celebrate this birthday.”

Emboldened, you brought your hand to his mouth, gently brushing the pad of your thumb over the plush of his lower lip. “You can give it to me if you don’t like it.” 

This was as explicit as you were going to get when it came to asking for what you wanted so bad, and he knew it. The ball was in his court, and there was no turning back from here, not anymore. You watched as his gaze sharpened, peering into his horizon coloured eyes as his pupils dilated at the invitation concealed in your words.

His palm found your jaw with such gentleness that it astounded you, causing you to stiffen under his touch. It wasn’t as if he had never touched you before – your relationship (or lack thereof) had always been pretty physically affectionate, so the proximity should not have made you so nervous, but this was so starkly different from every other time he had invaded your personal space. This felt far more intimate than anything you had ever experienced before, and your breath hitched in your throat when he leaned in, a quiet sound escaping him. 

Helpless, frantic even, needing you like he needed air to breathe. It encompassed everything you felt for him and more. For a brief moment, the world seemed to stand still. Time wasn’t real and didn’t have any impact on either of you as your breaths mingled and a heavy silence settled. His gaze, dark and telling, dropped to your lips, ones you had swiped lip gloss on in naive hope of this, his own parting as he looked into your eyes once more. 

And then, when the clock of life resumed its course, Caleb dipped his head and pressed his mouth to yours. 

You had imagined this happening dozens of times, even before you fully understood the depth of your feelings for him, but your little daydreams didn’t come close to the real thing. Your mind screeched to a grinding halt the moment it happened because holy shit, Caleb was kissing you. 

But the rest of you? The rest of you acted on instinct, all that pent-up yearning for this exact moment coming out all at once. His lips were slightly chapped, but you didn’t care. There was an unmistakable sense of tentativeness to the way he kissed you, only going so far as to press his lips to yours over and over.

You could hardly believe he was actually kissing you, after all the times it had almost happened, only for him to pull away last minute, and that disbelief translated into your body language. Hesitantly, you lifted your hand from his shoulder, letting it hover there awkwardly for a couple of seconds as you kissed him back. Your scattered thoughts slowly came back to you, coalescing until all you were thinking of was him.

When you were sure it was real, you curled your fingers around the nape of his neck and pulled him closer.

Something shifted in that moment, something that neither of you could ever come back from and didn’t particularly care to. A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he slanted them over yours, before pulling away just enough to be able to look you in the eyes, half-lidded and swirling with longing. He dragged his thumb over your cheekbone, caressing you like you were a work of art, a marble statue that he was lucky enough to touch, and tilted his head to the other side, capturing your lips once again.

There wasn’t a single trace of his earlier hesitation in this kiss, and the contrast made your head spin. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you melted into him, hyperaware of every little thing he did, and how he tugged you into him. Caleb sucked your lower lip in between his, his tongue sweeping across the plush of it and chasing after yours. You could taste the sour aftertaste that lingered as he plundered your mouth with a desperation that mirrored your own and was still, somehow, controlled. His grip on your face tightened ever so slightly, and you faintly registered him gulping. 

Did he just–

Did he just swallow the fucking candy?

When the two of you broke apart, you knew right then and there that everything had changed. One glance at him revealed to you just how wrecked he was from the kiss, breathing heavily and eyes burning with an intensity that had your lungs empty themselves of all the air inside them.

“Y/n.” Caleb’s voice had gotten lower, huskier.  “I know that’s not your gift.”

Of course, he had figured it out. It wasn’t like you had been subtle about it, but you felt caught nonetheless, cheeks flushing with tell-tale warmth. Your flustered state only seemed to egg him on further, with him tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear as he continued. “I’ll twist your words on purpose and use them to catch you.” 

Although he phrased it like a confession, it wasn’t like this was the first time he was doing it. You were well aware of his habit of driving you into a corner to get you to speak your mind, after all, he had done it all day today, and yet you still indulged him. He and you were two sides of the same coin, crazy about each other in ways that others would never be able to understand, but unable to let it show outright for the longest time. Now that it was all out in the open, a newfound sense of confidence surged through you.

“Go on then,” You pushed him onto his back by his shoulders, your hair falling around your face and framing it like a halo as you gazed down, savouring the surprise that flickered in those all-consuming eyes of his. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Caleb’s earlier self-assuredness seemed to fade at your assumption of control in that moment as he stared up at you, wide-eyed and wanting. You took advantage of the moment, for it wasn’t very often that you left him tongue-tied, your palm cradling the side of his face. 

“Wherever you are, what I always want is for you to be drawn to me…” The words left you in a delicate whisper, like a sinner confessing to her wrongdoings, kissing him chastely as if you were trying to imprint the moment into your memory. “With the weakest gravitational pull.”

Now that was a real confession, one that he had spent most of his waking moments wishing for but never expecting to happen. One edge of his mouth curled upwards in a half-smile.

“Gravity can’t be held responsible for people who fall in love.” The statement took root in your very soul, and it was like a weight had rolled off your shoulders at the acknowledgement. You loved him, so deep and true, and had spent what felt like an eternity fighting against those feelings. In this moment, however, you felt as light as a bird, as if that gravity he had so rightly accused you of blaming had vanished. He reached up, tracing the side of your face with such devotion that it made your chest ache. 

“I’ll remember more than just this.” A promise that he sealed by pressing your knuckles to his lips affectionately. “I’ll always remember that these things came from you.”

You, who were his every dream and wish for as far back as he could recall. All those years of wishing for you on his birthday, hoping that he’d one day have you like this as he blew out the candles, had turned into reality. When morning came, he wouldn’t have to hold onto rapidly fading memories of that fleeting dream anymore. 

You descended upon him eagerly, resuming getting lost in him before he even had the chance to hold you properly. While Caleb had years under his belt when it came to practising restraint and keeping his feelings in check, yours were painfully fresh, effervescent in ways you couldn’t control just yet. They bubbled over the top, bursting forth like soda from a thoroughly shaken bottle.

When the two of you inevitably rolled off the couch, you almost laughed at the absurdity of it, but he didn’t give you the chance with how demanding his kisses were. One hand cradled the back of your head to make sure that you didn’t get hurt, because he was your protector first, and everything else came after. You barely registered one of you hitting the edge of the coffee table, causing the candy tin to fall off, all its contents scattering around on the floor. 

Nothing else mattered, just you and him. 

Caleb braced himself over you, pulling away from the temptation that was your mouth to look down at you. Fingers intertwined with yours as he pressed the back of your hand against the floor, he couldn’t stop doubt from rushing back in, because how could this be real? It felt too good to be true, even though the warmth of your hand under his told him that he was wide awake. He focused on how your hands looked when interlocked, thinking back to all the times he had only let himself hold your hand in secret, when you were asleep and none the wiser.

A single piece of hard candy rolled over to where your hands lay – lemon flavoured, because of course it was. A scoff escaped him at the irony, but its clattering pulled him out of his scepticism-addled mind. 

“See?” He lifted your other hand and pressed it to his chest, the spot right over where his heart lay. “This is how you draw me in every time without fail.” 

He took your chin between his index finger and thumb, not allowing you to respond as he kissed you again, but it was different this time. It was slow, like he was taking his time to memorise how you felt against him. The pendants of his necklace clinked against each other and grazed your collarbone, the cool metal serving as an anchor and keeping you somewhat grounded.

There really wasn’t much space between the coffee table and his couch, which resulted in the position both of you were in right now, with him in between your folded legs. The realisation made the temperature in the room go up several notches, and you squeezed his hand before whispering against his lips. 

“Happy birthday, Caleb.”

His breath hitched as he pulled away, making a show of leaning back to sit on his heels and rubbing a hand over his face. “Y/n….” 

The heat in his voice was not lost on you, making you grin. You propped yourself up on your elbows, batting your eyelashes innocently, as if you were completely unaware of what you were doing. “What? I can’t wish you now?”

But Caleb was well-versed in all your little games, having been the one to play them for the majority of his life. “You can,” He murmured, resting a hand on your knee. “You know very well you can do anything you want to me.” 

What the hell. How could he say such a thing so casually? You felt positively insane at the combination of his words and his palm on your skin, your dress riding up your thighs just a tad. He knew what you were playing at, and if the air between him and you had been heavy with unresolved tension before, it was borderline electric now. 

“This is more about what you want. It’s your birthday.” You reminded him of the fact, waiting with baited breath for the choice he would make. It was probably past midnight at this point, but you didn’t care, and the sentiment remained the same.

He hummed, his hand slipping down your leg to your calf, over the thin fabric of your knee-high socks. “I think I want to kiss you all night.”

An indignant sound from your end. “Thats it?”

You were pouting. He couldn’t help but chuckle at how adorable you looked right then. 

“You underestimate how long I’ve been waiting to kiss you,” He said earnestly, before his tone switched into something much more patronising. “What? Were you expecting something more?”

You sat up properly, pulling your legs to yourself and levelling him with a glare. “You’re so–”

Caleb tutted immediately at your withdrawal, knowing fully well he was pushing your buttons and enjoying every second of it. He reached out, hands on your waist as he pulled you towards him once more– and you let him, quickly adapting to his lap. “Play nice. Can’t be mean to the birthday boy, now can you?”

“The birthday boy is annoying.”

“And you’re still here, aren’t you?”

As if you’d rather be anywhere else. As if you’d choose anyone else to be with. You huffed, spreading your hands out over his chest as you tried to tune out the impatient voice in your head that wanted you to take his jacket off. You settled for straddling him instead. “I can leave. Go to bed.” 

“You won’t.” The smirk that decorated his mouth, a mouth that you had just kissed, was nothing short of devilish. If you were standing, your knees would have buckled at the mere sight of it. “You don’t want to.” 

Well. He got you there. 

Caleb let his fingertips wander, slipping under the hem of your dress and caressing the skin there with a maddeningly light touch. Leaning forward, he turned his head to your neck and let his lips brush against your earlobe, delighting in the shiver it sent through your smaller frame. 

“Do I get to unwrap my present now?”

Any smart retort you had about wanting to leave flew right out of your mind at his question, the smooth cadence of his voice having anticipation thrum through your veins. It was the way he sounded so sure of himself that riled you up even more, that previous heat rushing back and dancing in the minimal space between both of your bodies, present even with his incessant teasing.

All you could manage was a sharp nod, your desperation for him returning with a vengeance. The heat emanating from your skin was like a drug to him, one that he couldn’t help but indulge, his lips brushing against your pulse point and breathing against it, making you feel near feverish.

“Words,” he instructed, like they were an easy thing to form while he slowly made you lose your train of thought. “I need you to say you want this, pretty girl.”

He was insane to think that you didn’t. You wet your lips, flustered. “I want it.” 

You could feel his lips curl upwards against your skin, one hand sliding up your side and to your shoulder. He then paused, simply toying with the ribbon there for a couple of excruciating seconds, before finally tugging and undoing the bow you had tied. One side of the top of your dress slipped a little lower, and all you could do was bite down on the plush of your lower lip as he repeated the action on the other side, simultaneously loving and hating how he was taking his time. 

The shimmery blue fabric dropped to your midriff, revealing your second surprise: a pale blue lacy bra adorning your skin, a pretty thing you had purchased for the sole purpose of driving the man you were currently sitting atop crazy. He pulled away from your neck, his eyes widening by a fraction as his gaze turned smouldering, his entire form stiffening as he took in the sight of it. 

“Fuck,” he rapsed out, “Are you trying to kill me?”

“You don’t like it?” You cocked your head to the side, knowing damn well the opposite was true and acting coquettish to cover up just how violently your nerves were acting up despite that fact. 

“I like it too much. That’s the problem.” He pulled his gaze away from your lace-clad chest, forcing himself to look you in the eyes and allowing you to see the depth of the emotion that lay in his. It felt as if you were looking right at the heel of a fire as it consumed everything in its path, molten and heavy. To call it desire would have been a disservice, because it was clearly so much more than just that. It was barely concealed longing and awe, and the very thing you had been fighting for as long as you could remember. 

It was love.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he repeated, his hand coming up to cup your jaw with tenderness that had your heart stuttering. “God, you have no idea how long I’ve been imagining this for.” 

Vulnerability cut through the haze of lust that had enveloped him and you, and you were struck by just how quiet his voice had gotten. How he looked at you like you were some divine being he had the blessing to be in the presence of, devoted and mesmerised all at once. Had he always stared at you with such reverence?

“Caleb…” He shook his head as you trailed off. 

“I just–” he swallowed thickly, struggling to get the words out. You recognised the look in his eyes, that barely concealed restraint they always possessed when you got too close, just before he’d pull away and shut down. “I don’t want this to be just–”

“It won’t be. It isn’t.” You caught wind of where he was going with this and shut it down immediately. “Caleb, I don’t just want this, I want you. All of you.”

Exhaling slowly, he let his hands drop to your waist, squeezing lightly. When he spoke, his voice was gravelly. “I’ve imagined you saying that too.”

You wrapped your fingers around his tie, tugging him closer until his nose brushed against yours and you were almost kissing again, but not quite. He was in his head, and you were determined to pull him out of it and bring him back to the present. “Show me what else you’ve imagined?”

He didn’t have to be asked twice.

Caleb met you halfway, kissing you like he was making up for all the times he couldn’t. His lips travelled down your jaw and to your neck, every little nip he gave your skin sending sparks shooting down right to your core. You squirmed in his lap, tipping your head to give him easier access, your obvious eagerness earning a groan in response.

Like a flip had been switched, he lifted you off of him, resuming his earlier position of him being on top as your back met the carpet on his floor once more. His kisses turned hot and open-mouthed, leaving trails of warmth along your fevered skin as his lips moved lower, teeth grazing the junction where your neck and shoulder met. The simple, barely there contact had a shudder run through your body, and you gripped the lapels of his jacket, needing something to hold onto you. 

“Can I touch you?” He asked softly, never wanting to cross any lines you weren’t comfortable with. The thought of him touching you made your head spin, and at your dazed nod, he slowly pushed the skirt part of your dress up, letting it bunch up around your waist. Arousal pooled in the pit of your stomach, hot and sticky, its tendrils spreading through your lower body and leaving your panties damp. 

Panties that, upon seeing, had him cursing under his breath. They matched the bra you wore, telling him just how much you had thought about because– shit, you were in a matching set of lingerie. 

“Yeah, you’re trying to kill me,” he muttered, dropping his head to your chest. You couldn’t help the breathy giggle that left you, the strands of his inky hair tickling the skin of your collarbone. “You’re stunning. Is this all for me?”

“Do you see anyone else around?”

“Good to know you still insist on sassing me even like this,” he muttered wryly, his hand wandering up your thigh and dipping onto the inner side of it. Before you could think about refuting that statement, he began kissing the swell of your breast, trailing downwards and then wrapping his lips around your clothed nipple. Wetness from his tongue seeped through the lace as he swirled it around the already-stiff peak, and as if on instinct, your legs fell further apart, eyes screwing shut. 

He hummed, evidently pleased at your reaction, tugging the bra cup holding your other breast down, exposing the pillowy flesh underneath. Shifting his attention from the one he had been teasing, he gave your other nipple the same treatment, licking, sucking and teasing until you were writhing underneath him, breathing shaky and uneven. 

Caleb dragged his fingertips up the tantalising expanse of your inner thigh, inching closer to where you wanted him most as he continued his ministrations on your breasts. Running his teeth over your nipple, he gently bit down on the sensitive peak, catching you off guard and drawing out a needy whimper from the back of your throat. 

“Caleb,” you barely recognised your voice with how whiny you sounded. “Please just–”

But the rest of your impatient plea would never be heard, because he chose that exact moment to slip his hand up the rest of your thigh and press his fingers against your clothed core. You sucked in a sharp breath, your hips jerking into his touch desperately. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he mumbled against your overheated skin. “Have you been like this the entire time?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, far too turned on to be embarrassed by the fact. “Please hurry up and do something.”

He shot you a wolfish grin at your whining, rubbing the pads of his fingers against your covered folds and gaining a feel for just how desperate you were for him. You looked so fucking pretty like this, spread out and wrecked even when he had barely done anything to you yet, and still begging him for more. The sight was something straight out of a wet dream to him, every bit as sinful and perfect as he had imagined. “So impatient. Won’t you let me take my time with my gift?” 

“We have the whole night for you to take your time,” you shot back, and the implication made his eyes darken considerably. Without wasting another second, he pushed your soaked panties to the side and dipped two fingers in between your folds, letting out a disbelieving puff of air now that he could feel how wet you were directly. Slick collected on his fingers, he swiped it through, bringing it up to your already sensitive clit and applying just the right amount of pressure to make you mewl. 

“The whole night, huh?” Caleb kissed the hollow of your neck, and then higher. “Showing you everything I’ve imagined might actually take that long.”

You scrambled to grasp at his arms as he began to rub your clit, your entire body reacting to the touch it was programmed for him and him alone. He watched in fascination, drinking in every lovely sound you made, from delectable sighs to restless moans. It wasn’t like he intended on being a tease, but he couldn’t help it, drunk on your reactions and wanting to see how many he could draw out of you. 

Caleb let his finger wander back down your folds, swiping it up, down, and through your wetness over and over until you were squirming. The wet sounds had your cheeks burning, nails digging into the stiff fabric of his blazer as you whined. 

“Stop–”

“Stop what?” he taunted, his nail pressing into the underside of your clit. The sound that evoked was one you didn’t even think you were capable of making, eyes going wide and desperate.

“–teasing,” you breathed out. “Stop teasing. I need more.” More of this. More of him.

That was all it took. 

He slid a finger in, almost hypnotised by how smooth the glide was, a disbelieving scoff leaving him as he once again acknowledged just how wet you were. Your mouth fell open, a satisfied gasp escaping it as he buried said finger knuckle deep inside of you. Around him, you were warm and wet and so unbelievably tight that he felt himself grow harder, straining his pants but not caring about it for a second, so transfixed with you. 

His finger was longer than yours, brushing against spots that yours never could. He moved it slowly, pumping in and out of you at a pace that was both dizzying and infuriating before easing in a second one. 

Just when you were about to complain again, he crooked his fingers inside your cunt, and you moaned, “Oh fuck.”

“Feel good?” he pressed a kiss on the spot under your ear, breathing the words against it. “This what you wanted, baby?”

The new nickname had you clenching around him as you nodded furiously. He smirked triumphantly against your skin, increasing the motions as he finger fucked you, revelling in how your body responded so compliantly, truly made for him.

“Yes, yes. Please don’t stop.” You hiccuped, too lost in the sensation of his fingers dragging against your walls to form a coherent thought. It was the way you were looking right now, half-closed eyes caught between intense desire and a certain drowsiness only pleasure could bring about, dress all bunched up around your midriff– a mess, but a beautiful mess regardless.

Caleb had always been terrible at refusing you, so why should he start now? If you asked for something, he’d do anything to get you ten of them. Spoiling you was his favourite pastime, but he was starting to realise that he loved it even more like this, when you were begging him for something only he could deliver. 

When your legs began to tremble, his resolve steeled further, wanting more than anything to push you over the edge. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he mumbled, greedily mouthing at your breasts again. “Love making you feel good.”

His thumb found your engorged clit, rubbing deliberately heavy handed circles onto it. The squeal you let out was so cute, and he angled his fingers a little bit, watching as a shiver spread over your body and your eyes widened. 

A broken wail of ecstacy made its way past your lips as you tumbled over the edge, gushing around his fingers and growing so tight that it had his cock throb at the thought of being inside you. Your pussy was like a vise, sucking his fingers in deep, and he shamelessly indulged you, helping you ride out your high. Once he was sure it was over, he pulled his fingers out and nearly groaned at the sight of your release coating them.

Suddenly, the heat was unbearable. He shrugged off his jacket and grabbed at the knot of his tie, holding part of the fabric between his teeth and yanking the other end until it came undone. 

Witnessing this had two things happen to you at the same time: the first being your sharp inhale, and the second being the rush of desire that flooded your system all at once, shocking yourself with the magnitude of it all. Entranced, you watched as he discarded the tie and popped his collar, only snapping out of your reverie when you felt his fingers curl around your ankles and tug you closer. 

Fuck. 

Within seconds, his shirt was off, allowing you to unabashedly stare at the definition of his abs. You let your eyes wander because, wow, Caleb had always been extremely attractive, but the effects of it seemed to be hitting you all at once.

Having rid himself of part of his clothing, he turned his attention back to you, taking note of the appreciative glint in your eyes. You were perfect, so perfect for him in every single way, and he was going to make sure you knew it before the night was over. He found the mess of your dress and tugged it up and over your chest, uttering a single instruction.

“Up.”

You obeyed immediately, sitting up and letting him pull the material off of you, letting it join his discarded clothing without another care. After all, it was always meant to be peeled off of you, the perfect wrapping paper. Your shoes came off next, and you didn’t know which end of the room they landed up in. Left in only lingerie that barely left anything to the imagination, you had never felt so exposed and somehow still in control at the same time, because being vulnerable with Caleb was like second nature to you. 

“You look so pretty,” he cradled your face in his palms, voice soft and sincere. “I almost don’t want to take it off.”

“Almost,” you noted, teasing. He smirked down at you, snapping the strap of your bra against your shoulder.

“Almost,” he repeated, confirming that he was going to take it off anyway. He knocked your knees apart and settled in between them, resulting in you being eye-level with his chest, the silver of his necklace glinting in the dim lighting of his living room. 

And oh my god.

“Holy shit,” you muttered, a little awed. “It actually has gotten bigger.”

Caleb laughed, flicking your forehead as he gently pushed you back down, climbing over you and planting a kiss at the place he had just struck. 

“Did you think the robot assistant lied?” Amusement coated every syllable, a little muffled as he kissed your cheek, and then your lips, propping his index finger underneath your chin to angle your head better. 

“No,” you finally responded when he shifted his attention to your neck, sucking at the skin and leaving pretty little marks that would turn purple all over it. “Just confirming. You didn’t exactly let me check earlier.” You could feel his lips curve into a smile as he kissed down the valley of your breasts.

“Been thinkin’ about that all day, have you?” He glanced up at you from where he was, eyes alight with mischief. Caught, you decided to evade that question, sighing blissfully as he continued his path down your body. 

Until you realised where he was heading. 

“Wait, what are you–?”

“You have no idea,” He whispered reverently against your skin, methodically working his mouth over every part of it he could, like your body was a map he was attempting to commit to memory. “Just how long I’ve wanted this, wanted you.” His tongue flicked out occasionally, grounding you to the moment every time you felt yourself fall deeper into a daze. “Was sitting here and thinking of you, cravin’ you so bad. I do it almost every night.”

Every night. The idea made you positively woozy, cementing the fact that all the insanity you had felt in your apartment back in Linkon– it had been mutual. On some level, you had always known it had been, but hearing it like this, in such an intimate setting, made you feel braver. 

“Me too.” A breathless admittance, and it was the truth. It had always been the truth, even before you knew it.

Caleb looked up at you, both his hands slipping underneath your shins and gripping lightly. “I’ve wanted to hold you for so long, to kiss you and hold you and taste you–” he said in a manner that made it seem like he didn’t quite believe he was doing so now, rambling earnestly. “–fuck, can I taste you?”

He paused, letting the question weigh down on you. His path down your body made sense now, and you swallowed, trying to ignore how your pussy ached at the thought of it as you meekly whispered.

“You don’t have to.”

“Have to? Baby, I want to,” he kissed the spot just above your hip. “I’d beg if you asked me to.”  

You were so incredibly shy all of a sudden, overwhelmed by the sheer level of power he constantly loved placing in your hands. You recognised this was his way of ensuring you knew he was unequivocally and absolutely yours, and it set your blood on fire. Before you knew it, you found yourself surrendering.

“Okay.”

Without wasting another second, he pulled those pretty panties of yours off of you, albeit a little regretfully, and tossed them to the side as he settled in between your legs. Faced with your bare pussy, Caleb was convinced that he had died and gone to heaven already, unable to get over just how pretty it was, all flushed and glistening with need. You felt intimidated by how intently he was looking at it, trying to squirm away, but he held you there, large hands keeping you nice and spread out as he began peppering kisses over the expanse of your thighs. 

Then, without so much as a warning, he positioned your legs over his shoulders and licked a stripe up your cunt. Your gasp rushed straight to his head, much like how all his blood seemed to rush south. The taste of your slick made him groan, the sound so uncharacteristically filthy that you could feel yourself flush at hearing it, flattered and scandalised all at once. 

His tongue was tentative in its exploration of you at first, lapping at the wetness that seemed to trickle out of you uncontrollably like it was the finest of wines. He dragged over your entrance and up to your clit, flattening against it. 

“Oh,” you mewled, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging lightly. “Oh, fuck.”

The sensation of your nails lightly scratching against his scalp sent a delighted shiver down his spine, and he tightened his hold on you. He stroked his tongue over the bundle of nerves, once, twice, and continued doing so until you were whimpering uncontrollably. You were still sensitive from your previous orgasm, and this was almost too much too soon, but it felt too good to protest.

Caleb looked at you from where he was, as your fingers carded through the front of his hair and pushed it back, giving him the perfect view of you. Maintaining eye contact, he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked harshly, a deep sense of satisfaction spreading through his chest when he saw how your eyes snapped shut in pure ecstasy and your jaw fell open, crying out his name so loud.

Your back bowed off the ground, heels digging into his shoulder blades, torn between pulling him closer and attempting to push him away. He was determined to make sure you knew how much he was enjoying this. He groaned, and the vibrations from it elicited a moan from you in return, the two sounds coming together and forming a harmony of pleasure. 

“Caleb,” the way you whined his name was so perfect and breathy, he nearled cummed right there and there.

His wicked mouth continued to work you over the edge, and when you felt his finger prod at your entrance again, you squealed. The sounds coming from your pussy were borderline obscene with how wet you were, your slick mixing with his spit, coating your inner thighs as well. You felt that tug in your gut again as the coil pulled tighter and tighter, on the precipice of shattering.

It was so, so good, but greedy as you were, you wanted more. 

You tugged at his hair, gently at first and partly out of your need to hold onto something tangible to grip onto to stay grounded, before pulling harder, guiding him away from your cunt. 

Amusingly enough, it looked like he was offended at being parted from it, but maintained his gentle tone. “Somethin’ wrong?” 

“I think I’m close again.”

Caleb raised a singular eyebrow. “Sounds like everything was right then.” The pout on his lips would have been kind of adorable if not for the way your arousal coated his lips and chin, a sight so erotic it made you wish you could capture it somehow. 

You let your hands drop to his neck, pulling him back up from between your legs. “I want to come with you.” 

A hungry look entered his eyes, and he tongued his cheek. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you echoed, trailing your hands down his chest and abs, your nails grazing his skin with just the right amount of pressure to get him to shudder lightly. You stopped at his waistband, toying with it as your gaze flickered between it and his eyes, silently asking for permission. The ability to have an entire conversation with a single look was something he and you had mastered a long time ago, and this was no different. 

Caleb swallowed and nodded. “Okay, okay. Yeah. I want that too.”

You pushed him to the side, catching him a little off guard as he settled on his back. Sitting up, you straddled him once more, busying yourself with unfastening the button of his dress pants and unzipping them. He caught the slight tremble of your hands and smiled softly, pushing your hair out of your face and pressing a shockingly tender kiss to your forehead. Considering the situation, the contrast of it coaxed a nervous laugh out of you. 

“You’re distracting me,” you mumbled, turning your face into his hand and leaning into his touch. He played coy, thoroughly amused.

“Am I?”

“You know you are,” your hands were splayed out on his lower torso as you took a breather, overwhelmed. He didn’t care in the slightest, pulling you closer and resting his forehead against yours.

“I love being your distraction,” he hummed. “That’s how I know you’re paying attention to only me.”

A kiss to the side of your mouth brought all that confidence back. You straightened, pushing his pants down past his hips and repeated the action with his boxers, revealing his erection.

Flushed and painfully hard, it stood up against his stomach and made your eyes widen, because – holy shit – he was big. Your mouth went dry at the mere sight of it, and he tilted his head to the side, continuing in that soft cadence. “You okay?”

Shit – maybe you should have been the one asking that, because being that hard for presusmably this long had to have been extremely uncomfortable for him. Still, there he was, checking in on you instead. 

Your sweet, perfect boy. The man you loved. 

“I’m good,” you wet your lips, meeting his eyes and finding out just how much he was holding back right there, the purple of his irises almost entirely gone with how blown out his pupils were. “Can I– can I touch you?”

You caught his Adam's apple bob and wanted to bite it. 

I’ve only ever been yours to touch, his thoughts screamed back at him as he watched you wait for his response, but his tongue seemed to have trouble catching up to his mind at the moment. Everything about this was surreal to him, with you reciprocating everything he felt and showing it for the first time. “Yeah, you can.” He said after a beat, and then, as an afterthought, he added, “Please.”

Gently, you reached out and wrapped your fingers around his cock, feeling the weight of it in your hand. You didn’t miss the way he inhaled sharply, sucking air in through his teeth at the touch. His eyes fluttered shut, long eyelashes that you envied kissing the skin under his eyes as he tipped his head back. 

Seeing him like this spurred you on even further. You moved your hand a little, up his length, teasing his tip and the slit that leaked precum, spreading it around with your thumb. It made a mess on your palm, but made it easier for you to glide back down his cock, relishing the way he hissed in pleasure. 

Caleb jerked his hips into your fist instinctively, evidently trying his hardest to hold back his sounds, only letting the slightest of moans slip past his lips. You were having none of it, tightening your hold on him as you moved your hand, suddenly feeling playful. Leaning forward, you brushed the tip of your nose along his neck before pressing a kiss against his heated skin.

“Let me make you feel good,” you mumbled, syrupy sweet in your manner of speaking. It was the same tone you used to use with him every time you wanted to get your way, but instead of your usual puppy eyes, you settled for planting lazy kisses on his neck. 

“God–,” he sounded so strained, “Wait, I– fuuuuck”

You were aching for him at this point, now that you could feel him and imagine how he would feel. You ran the pad of your thumb over the vein on the underside of his cock teasingly, sucking on his pulse point, tasting the salt of his skin on your tongue. Briefly, you entertained the thought of lowering your mouth even further, until you had his tip in your mouth and–

Caleb caught your wrist, panting heavily. “Okay. Stop. No more.”

“I barely did anything?!” You protested, and he chuckled airily.

He breathed out your name, and it was completely intoxicating, an octave lower than usual and rough. “If you do anything more, I’ll come.”

“But–”

He turned his face, nose brushing yours as he breathed against your lips. “I’m not coming on your hand the first time we do this.” 

Assertive. Firm. Your train of thought came to a sharp halt, puddling into a mess of incoherence as lust took over. You nodded eagerly, crashing your lips to his again in a messy kiss, all tongue and heat and a desperation for each other that somehow hadn’t burst at the seams yet, but was about to. 

Another roll over, and the two of you were so far away from the spot you started in. Caleb was on top again, both of you caught up in your feverish lip lock. Your hands were in his hair as you pulled him as close as physically possible, and he reached behind you, finally unhooking your bra and letting it fall off, joining the rest of your discarded clothing. 

Caleb lifted your legs and hooked them over his hips, his fingers pressing into the flesh of your thighs as he licked into your mouth. He pushed his hips forward, pressing his cock against your dripping folds and rocking aimlessly, coating himself in your slick. The feeling of the head of his length rutting against your clit had you make a keening sound, one that he swallowed greedily, echoing with his own moan. 

This was real. It wasn’t a dream, your nails scratching against his biceps told him as much. You bucked your hips up against his, and the feeling of you, so wet and soft, was enough to make him feel delirious. 

“You’re perfect,” he said drunkenly. “My perfect girl.”

Oh.

Hearing him say it like that was something else. Calling you his, speaking it into existence to remind himself of the fact as much as it was to remind you, not bothering to ask the question first because there was no need to. Asking you to be his was trivial, especially when both of you knew you already were. 

He hiked your legs even higher as his tip caught at your entrance, nudging at it but not pushing in just yet. Those few seconds were torture, almost what you wanted but not quite. Not yet.

One more kiss. A dulcet whisper of ‘yours’ falling from you.

When he finally sank into you, it was slow, and you could feel it everywhere, your nerve endings on fire. The stretch burned deliciously, a momentary flash of discomfort that he distracted you from with another intense kiss, until it melted into pleasure. Your pussy eagerly welcomed him, hot and velvety around his cock as he inched his way in, even when taking his time was proving to be a difficult task. You felt unimaginably good, and when he glanced down between the two of your bodies, the sight of him half buried inside of you was enough to make him go a little light-headed. 

Caleb buried his face in the crook of your neck, deeply inhaling your scent as you pawed at his arms, producing pitchy little whimpers that sounded like music to his ears. A particularly impatient rut of his hips later, he was finally all the way in you. All you could manage were shallow breaths, feeling so full that it made it hard to think straight. 

“Y/n,” there was that drunken lilt to his tone again, muffled against your shoulder. “God, fuck, you feel incredible. I could do this all night” 

His words came to life in your mind, and you moaned, positively high off the praise, your walls pulsing around him happily as you adjusted to his size. “Yes.”

“Yes? You like the sound of that?” He encouraged you to elaborate, even though he knew how your state of mind had to have been then, reduced to nothing more than a puddle. Your entire body was impossibly flushed, and he massaged your hips soothingly, feeling how tense you had gone, clenching hard.

Caleb moved his mouth to your ear and whispered, “Relax for me, baby, you’re squeezin’ me so tight.” 

You forced yourself to let go of some of that tension, breathing deeply to keep yourself at least a little bit relaxed. He kissed your pulse point, feather light, as he pulled all the way out until only his tip remained inside of you. The loss made you whine pitifully, feeling uncomfortably empty now that you knew what it was to be full of him. Lifting his head from your neck, he couldn’t help but smirk when you wiggled, silently begging for more. 

“So impatient,” he tutted condescendingly, squeezing your waist. The glare you threw his way was weak.

“You–”

He promptly shut you up with a deep, measured stroke, ensuring that you felt every single inch of him as he did. Whatever scathing quip you were about to fire at him flew right out of your head, replaced with a humilatingly wanton cry of his name, nearly sobbing in relief when he repeated the action. He had always been like this, pushing your buttons until they were completely undone. 

“I…I don’t think I’ll last long,” you warned breathlessly as he rolled his hips into yours, arching off the floor when you felt him even deeper than the last thrust. Your previously building climax had resumed its course, all that sensitivity coming back all at once. 

“I know, I can feel it.” His hand slipped down your thigh to the curve of your ass, lifting your hips slightly and leaving absolutely no space between the two of you. 

As if to prove his point, you felt yourself clench around him again, getting even wetter when the head of his cock briefly brushed against a spot inside you that had you seeing stars. You lolled your head to the side, shutting your eyes as you focused on how he was fucking you. He dropped back down, his body dwarfing you as he buried his face in your hair, hips rocking against yours. The space between you, or lack thereof, felt heavy with your mutual need and something else.

Bodies flush against each other, chest pressing against his– suddenly, this wasn’t about pleasure anymore. Your breaths and heartbeats converged into one, skin to skin and connected in the way both of you had longed for, all that waiting and wanting coming to a head in this fragile, beautiful moment. Every gasp was a proclamation of your feelings, spilling clarity over them in a way that words never could. He was yours just as much as you were his, two souls melding into one. 

You would never be separated again.

The words sat on the tip of your tongue, a mere eight letters forming all three of them. They should have been easy to say, but you found yourself holding back, not wanting them to come out like this. Caleb's fingers found yours, intertwining with them and squeezing as he pressed the back of your hands into the carpeted floor. Heavy emotion mixed with the sheer levels of bliss coursing through your veins as he moved inside you, steadily climbing to the peak of its crescendo.

When you came, it was much more intense than the first time, your mind dissolving into a jumbled mess and a ragged moan of his name leaving your throat. You got so tight around him, causing his pace to stutter, and then slow down a little bit, switching into shallower thrusts. For your sake, you realised.

“We– we can stop if it's too much,” he muttered, but the desperate rutting of his hips against yours told you a different story. He hadn’t come yet, and though you were so sensitive to every little movement of his now, it felt too good to want it to stop. You felt insatiable, wanting him to fall apart just as you had and to be the one he fell apart for. 

So you choked out hoarsely, “More.”

“Fucking hell,” his voice had taken on a tone you had never heard before, “Are you sure?”

Instead of responding verbally, you locked your legs behind him, dragging him deeper into your soaked cunt and mewling at the feel of him. 

And then, because you could never resist pushing his buttons, you purred, “Didn’t you say you could do this all night?”

Caleb’s eyes snapped to yours, narrowing slightly at the taunt. The air crackled with a newfound intensity, contrasting the sweet intimacy that you had just shared with him, slipping into darker territory. “I did,” he drawled, pulling out completely before snapping his hips to yours again, the roughness of the move a stark difference from his previous gentleness. You were helpless to the intense waves of pleasure washing over you while he fucked you, succumbing to them with an enthusiastic groan. “You want that, huh? Want me to fuck you all night?”

The way he phrased it was filthy and so wrong in all the right ways, a dark lilt injected into his tone. Seemingly knowing the effect it had on you, he let go of one of your hands, cupping one of your breasts instead. Instinctively, you arched up into his touch, and he grinned, rolling your nipple under his fingers before pinching it. He savoured the way you whined, wishing he could permanently imprint the sound in his memory as he continued to tease the pebbled bud, tugging and flicking it. His ministrations only amplified the ache between your legs, despite you being quite literally stuffed full of him.

“Come on,” he taunted playfully. “Say it. Say you want me to fuck you all night.”

A rush of shame curled around you, the vulgarity of the statement having you exhale sharply. You reached up and pulled him back down into a kiss, hoping it would distract him, and for a couple of seconds, it seemed like it did. He hummed contentedly, but then broke away and pinched your nipple again, this time harsher than before. 

“Say it, or I stop.” 

That was wholly counterintuitive, especially since that meant he would essentially be blue-balling himself. However, your ability to think logically had flown out the window a long time ago, and you shook your head desperately when he actually began to slow down a little, rolling your hips upwards and babbling.

“I want it– want you to fuck me all night.”

“Good girl.” 

Oh, you definitely liked that, judging by the way your pussy fluttered around him so eagerly. His messed-up hair fell into his eyes as he set a punishing pace, groaning at how silky smooth the glide was. At how you fit together so perfectly. 

And god, you looked absolutely debauched, a vision with your flushed skin and red marks littered all over your neck and chest. The sight of you like this had to have been the very definition of sin, glossy eyes and pathetic little whimpers falling from kiss-bitten lips that encouraged him to fuck you even harder. He forced himself to look away, glancing down at the spot where the two of you were connected and watching how his cock disappeared in you, your cunt hungrily gripping and sucking him back in every time he rocked away. 

“Look at you,” He crooned, notching himself in you completely and staying still for a few, cruel moments.. “Look at your pretty little pussy taking my cock so well. It’s like you were made for me.”

Your sensitivity from the overstimulation had circled back to pure need by now, and an agonised moan left those swollen lips of yours at the stilling of his movements. Your nails dug into his skin, the sting making him hiss. His cock throbbed inside of you, so, so close to coming undone. When you curved off the carpet, he splayed a hand over your stomach and took a moment to admire how large it looked against you, before pressing down firmly. 

“Caleb, please,” the look you threw his way was addictive, so desperate and wanting. How could he ever refuse you, especially when you were looking at him like that? 

“Anything,” he dropped his mouth to yours, breathing out against it and pinning your hips down. His hand on your stomach slid lower, dipping into your folds, dragging your slick up to your engorged clit and rolling it between his fingers. Your shriek of surprise and pleasure was nothing short of delightful. “I’ll give you anything and everything you ask for.”

Caleb began rutting into you again, angling his hips slightly differently now, going even deeper. As a result, he brushed against that spot that had you seeing stars once more, and you cried out. 

“Oh my god, right there– please don’t stop, please, please–!” 

His grip on your hips turned bruising, sure to leave marks, but neither of you cared in the slightest, lost to the overwhelming pleasure. He fucked into that spot over and over, lewd, wet sounds echoing through the living room every time his body met yours. Your vision blurred as you clawed at him, so far gone. 

“Won’t stop,” he groaned, reassuring you that he was now done teasing. “Y/n I– god– stay with me, okay?” He was borderline frantic with his thrusts now, his composure having crumbled away completely and leaving you with a frenzied man, chasing his high and determined to give you another, drowning in the depths of his own emotions. “Don’t ever leave me.”

It was a statement he had spoken several times before, between the lingering stares and tight embraces that lasted a little too long. Constantly asking you to never leave him, holding on so tight in fear that he’d lose you. Somehow, in the midst of the haze of bliss you were caught in, you managed to catch on to what he was saying. 

“Never,” you whimpered, cupping his face and holding him close. “I’m never leaving you, I’m yours.” 

Caleb nuzzled into your touch and pressed his forehead to yours. “And I’m yours.” 

He littered burning kisses over the expanse of your neck, pressing them to your chin and cheeks as well, spilling his affections onto every bit of you that he could. Your fingers found purchase in his hair once more, tugging and using your hold to angle his face so that you could kiss him again.

With one final pass of his fingers over your clit, your third orgasm slammed into you. You sobbed out his name through the waves of euphoria that crashed through your body, setting your entire body alight from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. Caleb helped you ride through your high, grinding into you and drawing out the white-hot pleasure that licked at you so tantalisingly. It felt as if you were falling into the abyss, but as always, he was there to catch you.

Caleb came shortly after, unable to hold off any longer with the way your pussy clamped down on him, tight and hot and demanding in the most delicious way. His thrusts slowed down as he lazily rode his high, pumping into your trembling form slower. Your walls spasmed, and he grunted, pressing his lips to yours and muffling your whines. 

The kiss veered into something much softer, just a breathless brush of your lips as you calmed down, head descending from the clouds. He pulled out gently, humming softly when you hissed and pressing his lips to your forehead in lieu of an apology. 

“You’re incredible,” he said quietly. Silence ruled the room for a couple of seconds; the only thing you could perceive was the quickened beating of your heart, and every spot where his skin touched yours. Nothing but him existed in the little world you had created for yourselves, and the two of you stayed like that for a bit, basking in each other's warmth. 

“Caleb,” you murmured his name, the syllables feeling heavy on your tongue. The words you wanted to say so badly stuck in your throat, and your vocal cords refused to cooperate. Those sunset eyes of his found yours, captivating in every sense of the word, and he lifted your hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it tenderly. 

“I know.” He whispered. “I know.”

But he didn’t. How could he, when you had taken so long to figure it out yourself? He looked at you so lovingly that it made your chest hurt, and you let out a shaky sigh, overwhelmed by how ardent your feelings for him were, how real and messy and intense. You felt like a lone ship out at sea, but Caleb was that lighthouse in the distance, leading the way back home. He was the sun high up in the sky that brightened your days, coaxing you out of the dark and into the light, and you’d gladly burn just for the chance to stay close to him.

And so when your lips met and your thighs straddled him once more, there wasn’t any teasing. He smiled into the kiss and cradled the back of your head as you descended further into the darkness, into your feelings and into him.

The sun was rising. 

Early morning breeze slipped through the gaps in the windows of his balcony, but you barely felt the chill, focused on the way the glass reflected your figures. The slowly brightening sky made it seem as if both of you were bathed in a warm glow, and with how you were leaning back against him, you felt that glow within, too. You traced the outline with your finger, feeling the condensation catch and drag, dripping down the window panes. 

Caleb pulled you back into his arms, lying down with you, his hand rubbing soothing circles on the small of your back. You settled on your stomach and propped yourself up on your elbows. In the hazy morning light, you took a moment to study him.

“It feels like a dream.”

His gaze was steady when it found yours, his voice soft in an almost awestruck manner. “You dreamed about me before?”

“Of course. I dreamed you called yourself a dummy and promised to follow me around like a little tail.” You couldn’t help letting a quip slide now that the heat from just minutes ago had subsided. Now, you were clad in his shirt, the very same one he had discarded so eagerly, and he had on pants, but was shirtless. You reached out and touched the dog tag pendant of his necklace, toying with it between your fingers. 

Caleb was a man of his word; you always knew that, but you had learned just how determined he could be that night. As promised, he remained entangled with you all night, until your joint gasps and moans of pleasure had imprinted in your memory. It was the culmination of all those years of waiting, hoping, and wanting so hopelessly, and he showed you all of it. You let him, digging your heels in the dirt and refusing to run away anymore. 

He scoffed in amusement, trailing his touch upward and gently massaging your shoulder blades. He looked so lovely like this, dishevelled hair and cheeks flushed pink from the exertion of your earlier activities. A choked-up feeling invaded your throat as you got serious, dropping the pendant.

“I also dreamed that your signal was lost in a tunnel. There was only darkness, nothing else…” Your eyes hardened as you thought back to your fear of losing him and how badly the explosion had shaken you. Part of you didn’t know why you were bringing this up again, but the other half made it crystal clear: all that grief and fear was a fundamental stepping stone in your relationship with him. In order to admit it, you had to let it all out. “And then….I couldn’t find you anymore.”

Your voice was small and unrecognisable. You interlaced your fingers together and swallowed the lump that was steadily building in your throat. You felt him shift a little closer, closing his larger hand around both of yours and squeezing.

“That day will never happen.”

His touch was comforting, the motion of his thumb rubbing against the back of your hand bringing you an inexplicable sense of peace. “Losing signal, not being able to see what’s around me– none of that matters.” He dipped his head closer to yours, his lips curving upwards just slightly. “My flight path is in your hands, and I already know my destination before I take off.”

His voice was soft, like he was afraid to speak any louder lest it break you. Your breath caught, lower lip quivering at how sweet he was. You were speechless, but that was okay, because he wasn’t done. “There’s only one place I want to reach. It doesn’t matter what obstacles stand in my way.”

Caleb lifted one of your hands, pressed a kiss to your knuckles, and you almost fucking cried from how tender the action was, the emotion in your chest practically bursting out of it. Then, he pressed your palm against his heart and whispered, despite him and you being the only two people around, so reminiscent of the way he’d let you in on secrets when you were children.

“Its coordinates have been recorded here a long time ago.”

How had he dissolved all your lingering anxiety so easily? It felt as if he had caught it and tucked it out of your sight. Suddenly, you felt light again, and everything you had been trying so hard to say burst forth. Keeping those feelings to yourself for any longer would drive you crazy, and you needed him to hear them coming from you straight. 

“I love you.” 

The three words tumbled out of you gracelessly, but that imperfection made it real. Your vulnerability made your voice tremble, but you didn’t care, and neither did he. You saw the light in his eyes brighten and his grin widen as he pressed your hand against his chest harder, letting you feel how his heart sped up. 

You had called him the sun, but if he was the sun, then to Caleb, you were the moon. Incandescent, radiant, beautiful and for the longest time, it truly did feel like he had been chasing you through the skies, only to have to settle with glimpses at interludes and intervals when the evening reigned. Having to keep his love for you to himself during the day and letting it breathe during the night, when no one could see it in the dark. Now, those two celestial bodies collided, and the result was a supernova.

And it was as easy as breathing for him to say: “I love you, too.”

A watery giggle left you as you leaned forward and rested your head on his shoulder, nuzzling against him. He turned his face, resting his cheek against your forehead for a couple of seconds.. 

“I didn’t get to make a wish before blowing out the candles at the restaurant. Can I make one now?”

A perplexed look took over your features, and he had to resist kissing the furrow of your eyebrows away. “You had your eyes closed for so long, but you didn’t make a single wish?”

Although you were making fun of him for it, you got to your feet and padded to the kitchen, ignoring the soreness between your legs as you grabbed a cupcake. Finding a candle, you inserted it on top and lit it, before making your way back. As you plopped down, you asked, “Do you want me to sing ‘happy birthday’ again?”

He sat up and shook his head. “No, it's okay. I already know what I wanna wish for.”

Caleb cupped your hands that held the cake, leaning forward. The flame on the candle flickered as your only witness to this precious moment, and his infectious smile spread to you. You could see yourself grin in the reflection of his eyes, and it only made you smile wider, subconsciously leaning in as well. 

“I wish we’ll always fly under the same sky and be in each other’s lives.” He glanced at the candle. “And I’ll wish that every year, I’ll follow these coordinates on this day as I venture through the darkness. All because they’ll lead me back to you.” 

You were beaming when he blew the candle out, eyes shining with how deliriously happy you were. It was a look that, up until this point, he had only ever seen in his dreams. Placing the cupcake down, you drew closer and settled into his arms again. It was a new day, his birthday was over, and he was a year older, but none of those changes were the ones that mattered. This was the only one that did.

“In that case,” you whispered, nose brushing against his as you looked into his eyes. “I’ll wait for you to find me every year.”

The sun had risen, and for the first time, Caleb didn’t have to wake up.

fin.

[peachesofteal]

Like Real People Do previous + masterlist + AO3 Simon Riley/female reader - hospital au CW: sexual harassment, posessive/protective Doctor Riley

"Are you the primary for crib A?"

“Yes.” The new resident scans the length of your body, and smiles. Except it’s not friendly or kind, it’s pointed and almost predatory.

“We need to get an art stick and then I want to start the Furosemide Doctor Riley and I talked about earlier.” Okay…

“Okay. Once the order is in I’ll-”

“I’m giving it to you now.” Your eyebrow raises. The protocol up here is very clear. Verbal orders may fly in the ED, but not in the NICU, and for good reason. You can do an arterial stick fine, but you’re not starting a new med without an order.

“I know but you’ll still need to put it in before I start it.” His upper lips curls and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. Here we go.

“The last time I checked,” he looks at your badge, locates your name, and smirks, “Daisy, you’re a nurse, and I’m a doctor. It’s your job to do what I tell you to do.” This dude better be joking.

“I understand my job perfectly fine,” you mimic him, looking at his badge and slowly dragging your eyes back to his, “Doctor Beckert, which means you’ll still need to put an order in before I start the medication.” Please god let this not be his speciality. If it is, being stuck with him for years is going to suck.

Residents like this give the rest of them a bad reputation. They're more likely to be nice, excited, and eager, fresh and ready to learn. Med students and residents always excite you, they reignite the why that sometimes gets lost, but some of them carry a chip on their shoulder and it makes them mean. Entitled, like this one. He sighs, and something unnerving flashes in his eyes as he leans in. Something worrisome.

“Be a good girl Daisy, and get the medication, okay? By the time you get around to it, the order will be in. How does that sound?” You grit your teeth. You can’t afford a complaint from a provider, so you swallow your tongue and nod.

“Okay.”

“I’m scared.” The little girl grips the mask in her fingers so tight her knuckles are white.

The OR is in a dance around you. Lights, camera, action. They’re all taking their well known places, performing their well known duties.

You’re not even supposed to be in here. Doctor Riley is not even supposed to be in here, but the patient on the table, sweet little four year old Sophia, has a very specific heart defect leftover from her being born at twenty nine weeks, and Doctor Riley is the only one who has experience repairing them on this side of the country.

He’s standing at the table, talking to Doctor Beckert, and Doctor MacTavish is being you, checking dosages and pumps and everything else, stopping to give you a look. You don’t need to be an OR nurse to interpret it. It’s time to go to sleep.

“You know, I know a little girl who had a surgery just like this.” Okay it’s a lie. Not quite like this but you’re going with it.

“You do?” You pull the mask from her surprisingly strong grip and smile.

“Yeah. You know what she told me after it was over?”

“What?”

“That she had the best day ever because she got to eat all the ice cream she wanted, and the nurses let her watch her favorite movies that night.” Sophia’s eyes go wide with wonder.

“Wow. Will I get to do that?” Your vision turns fuzzy for a second and you see Riley on the table, small and fragile. You shake it loose. Focus.

“You will. But only if you go to sleep. Do you think you can do that?” Her apprehension is mostly gone now, soothed.

“I want chocolate ice cream.” She insists, little brows coming together in determination.

“Okay.” You squeeze her arm encouragingly, and then hand her the mask, keeping your palm over it to guide her. “Deep breaths for me, okay? And then I’ll see you afterwards.” She holds out her pinkie.

“Pinkie promise?” You loop it through yours and nod.

“Pinkie promise.” She goes down after that without issue, and when you stand and turn back to the room, Doctor Riley is watching you. In his scrub cap and mask, only his eyes are visible, and they bear down on you with enormous pressure, that gentle-tender thing in them from the other day framed by barely there blonde flecked eyelashes. It's confusing, it's frightening, it's chipping away at you and making your needs weak. You swallow.

“All good?” He never drops his gaze from yours, even with the flurry of activity spinning in a circle around him.

“All good.” You whisper, but somehow, it’s loud.

You’re circulating.

And sweating.

Thank god the OR scrubs are dark blue because you’d have stains right now. Plus the cap is tied so tight to your head, too tight probably, and it’s giving you a bit of a headache.

Of all the things in the unit you’ve learned or are still learning, the OR is the biggest, but you’re doing okay. You might be stressed on the inside, but you’ve got the room under control.

It helps that Doctor Riley is a meticulous pro. He never drops anything. He never questions anything. He’s methodical, and you’re learning to anticipate his needs pretty well, like the lap pads. You notice they’re getting low and grab a refill, replacing them silently and sliding back to your space without a word. No one even notices... which is the problem when Doctor Beckert looks up at you and asks for them. You incline your head to where the refreshed stack is, but he misses the cue.

“Are you deaf?” Your mouth drops open behind your mask.

“They’re right-”

“I asked you for more lap pads.” Oh my god this fucking guy. Doctor Riley’s head shoots up.

“Is there a problem?” He looks at his resident and follows his line of sight to where you’re standing, flustered and taken aback. For a split second, a nanosecond, his brow wrinkles before smoothing back to normal, his attention going right back to where he has a small child’s chest open, her beating heart under his instruments. “Doctor Beckert?”

“I asked Daisy for more lap pads.” You know he’s sneering at you, you can see it beneath his mask, and your tongue turns to sandpaper. It won’t matter that you’ve already provided them, it won’t matter than they’re sitting right there. All that will matter is that he’s an MD and you’re a nurse and you’re pissing him off, and there will be consequences.

“Daisy? Lap pads?” Doctor Riley asks, clearly not realizing either, which you don't fault him for.

“I-” You lose your words. Something about you is breaking. You’re not yourself. There are chinks in your armor you've never seen before. Doctor Riley is chipping away at your foundation, your control, and you hate it.

No one else says anything. They know the drill, they see the ticking time bomb that is this resident.

“Daisy.” He says sharply. He’s maintaining focus on his work, not bothering to look, which of course, is the correct action. Doctor Beckert snorts.

“I think your nurse is defective.” Doctor MacTavish inhales sharply, and his stool creaks beneath shifting weight.

“Daisy!” Doctor Riley barks this time, and you suppress your flinch. The OR is so silent you could hear a pin drop.

“They’re right there.” You whisper, staring at them. He finally looks, finally, and his chest expands with a deep breath.

“Have they been here the whole time?” You nod. You don’t say anything. You can’t. “Doctor Beckert,” he says slowly, returning to his work, “next time, let’s actually take a second to look at what we’re asking for before insulting one of my nurses. She’s clearly paying attention. I’d like you to too.” Doctor MacTavish chuckles, and the OR breathes a quiet sigh of relief.

You’d be relieved too, if the next thing that happened wasn’t Doctor Beckert scowling at you, his eyes holding a promise.

He makes good on that promise.

On top of putting his orders in one at a time, he’s been asking you to do things like find him a pen, or get him a coffee. He's made comments about your ass more than once. He locked you in a supply closet. He criticizes you at every turn, so much so your coworkers have started to notice, and Key is frequently frowning at you.

She probably thinks you’re a fuck up now too.

Being treated like a waitress, the comments about your ass and tits, even being locked in the supply closet... they're not the worst things. The worst thing is the stuff he says to you when no one else is around, when he corners you in a hallway, or ends up alone with you in the break room. He brushes up against you, he calls you a slut and whore, whispers things in your ear like maybe sucking dick is all that you’re good for. You've told him to fuck off, to stop, but it does nothing.

But you let it go. Let it roll off your back. You aren’t going to let this asshole get the best of you, trip you up.

You have it handled. You have it under control.

“Daisy.” Doctor Riley calls down the hall, and you tense, turning towards the sound of his voice. “My office.” You’re fucked. You’re fired. You’re getting sent back to the ED. You’re losing this pay raise. Key intercepts your death march.

“It’s going to be okay.” She looks sad, and she probably is. She put so much work into you, tried so hard.

“What?”

“Just tell the truth, alright?” About what? You give her some kind of numb response, and then you walk the plank.

“Is there an issue with Doctor Beckert?” Shit. He probably complained about you, reported you for something. You don’t know what to say, so you lie.

“No, there’s not. Or at least I don’t think there is?” Doctor Riley is half sitting on the front of his desk again, legs stretched out, his thighs straining in his scrub pants with his arms across his chest.

“Did he not lock you in a storage closet?” Your mask slips with surprise. You didn’t think anyone knew about that.

“I think it was an accident.” You need to sell it, assure him.

“How long has this been going on?” His voice is icy, frozen to the core, and you don’t know what to do. You don’t see a way out of this.

“How long has what been going on?” His jaw flexes. It’s one of his signals, a warning that tells you his patience is growing thin.

“The harassment, Daisy. How long has he been harassing you?” It’s going to be okay, Key’s voice floats in your head, just tell the truth alright? You had it backwards. He didn’t report you at all, she reported him. “Keona says she thinks she overheard him talking about your body, and Isa says she saw him touch you. Is that true?” Your blood ignites in shame, your mouth falling out of sync with your brain, and you can’t catch up. “Is that true, Daisy?”

“He’s… he’s said some things, but…”

“But?”

“I need this job.” You blurt, and his head snaps back like you’ve struck him.

“Excuse me?”

“I need this job. I took it for the pay raise, and I know I’ve been underperforming. I didn’t want to… make waves. I can handle him. He’s not my first asshole resident.” He’s quiet for a long time. Long enough you start to squirm, study the carpet until the rich, rough cadence of his voice fills the room.

“I don’t know how it is on other floors, but in my unit, I don’t accept anyone being harassed for any reason. It doesn’t matter if you’re a resident, a nurse, or a bloody scrub tech. That’s not how it works here.”

“Okay.” You whisper.

“But I guess that doesn’t matter to you, since you can handle him. You have it all under control, right?” It's like he's cast a line under your skin, hooked some vulnerable piece and is starting to reel it towards him, coax it to the surface. You nod and he stands. An alarm blares in the back of your mind and suddenly it’s hot in here, too hot, and he’s too close to you, taking all the air in the room. “And you don’t need help, do you Daisy? It doesn't matter that he's called you a slut, because you're fine.” You nod again, on autopilot. You're in control. You're fine.

“I don’t need help.” You, agree but it feels wrong, and your voice should be steel, but it wavers. Just enough to be there, surprising you.

“You can handle him. You can handle someone touching you," like a switch has been flipped, his gaze turn murderous, dark with anger and your heart pounds. "After you've said no. After you've told them to stop, because you don't need help." You’re on that ledge again, the small flicker of need in your heart growing a little bit bigger, a little bit bolder, begging you to let go. He's in your head, like a hunter familiar with his prey he senses it, striking and sinking his teeth into your soft flesh. “Did you think I would let someone do that to you? That I would let someone say those things to you? That I would let him touch you?" You can taste his mouthful of rage in the air. It’s shocking. Confusing. Makes you dizzy as he stands directly in front of you, sterile soap and freshly peeled orange surrounding you, going to your head. You have to hold onto the chair to keep from losing your balance, tipping from one side or the other.

You can't breathe. This weight will crush you.

“I'm going to fix this Daisy," He's all around you and there's no escape. Not here. "But I want you to admit to yourself that you need it, that you need help with this.” You hang your head in shame. It’s more than just admitting it. It’s a white flag, it’s defeat. You’re not strong, you can’t do it, you don’t have things under control. You’re failing. Riley, yourself, Tess and Liam. Everyone. Everything.

Slow, methodical fingers fold over yours, the heat in his skin forcing your grip on the back of the chair to loosen as his thumb rubs careful, encouraging circles into your skin. This isn't cold or clinical, this is not the surgeon you've known. This is the paradox, an illogical side of a coin that you somehow always knew existed.

“Tell me what you need Daisy.” The breath you’ve subconsciously been holding leaks from your lungs, and you tip your head back, searching for a lifeline, only to find him.

And in that moment, that one fluke of a moment, that one this is never happening again moment, you acquiesce. You fall.

“I need help.”

You open your email when you get to work the next day to find a unit wide message reminding everyone about harassment policies for the hospital and the NICU specifically.

Below that, is a personnel announcement.

Doctor Beckert has been fired-

and that small flicker in your heart turns into a flame. 

[ggukivrse]

THE ART OF PRETENDING - JJK | 07

summary. when you and jungkook show up to your much anticipated graduation trip and realise neither of you had the guts to tell your friends about your recent break up, there’s only one thing you can do to keep the trip from falling apart: pretend.

but somewhere between fake kisses and real feelings, you start to wonder if letting go was ever the right choice at all.

pairing: jeon jungkook x f!reader

genre/warnings: exes to lovers, fake dating, idiots to lovers, mutual pining, swearing, fluff, angst, they finally communicate yayay, (1) pov switch, (2) cliche kdrama scene, (eventual) explicit sexual content, ft. seokjin, namjoon, hoseok, jimin, taehyung, yoongi + four female ocs

word count: 7.7k

notes: one more chapter to go!!!! i hope this one explains everything :< if it doesn’t, please do drop by in my asks so i can over-explain everything until you guys are sick of it lolol. likes, comments, reblogs, asks and feedback are very appreciated!! enjoy reading my darlings <33

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⤷ chapter seven — zombie girl

"maybe i've been getting you wrong / i cover you with questions / cover you with explanations."

“Jungkook. You’re a fucking idiot.”

Taehyung’s voice is blunt and tired as it carries across the quiet living room.

Jungkook doesn’t respond right away. He’s still lying on the couch, one arm flopped over his eyes to shield them from the grey haze of early morning light seeping in through the wide windows. His neck hurts. His back’s worse. And the blanket he grabbed last night is too damn thin. But more than anything, it’s the weight in his chest that keeps him from sleeping again.

Well, that and Taehyung who's crouched by the coffee table, in sweatpants and a plain top, his hair sticking up in multiple directions. He’s holding two mugs, and one gets plunked onto the table in front of Jungkook.

“I mean it,” Taehyung says, settling onto the floor, legs crossed like he’s gearing up for a lecture. “Like actually. You're an idiot.”

Jungkook sits up slowly, wincing as something in his shoulder clicks. Despite looking comfy, the couch had felt like concrete to sleep on last night. He takes the mug and mutters a thanks, even though he knows he’s not off the hook.

“Fuck, Kook.” Taehyung drops his head back and groans into the ceiling. “Okay. Let me get this straight. She said she wouldn’t take back an ex, in a game, while she was acting like your girlfriend, and instead of thinking ‘oh maybe she’s just playing the part’— which, by the way, is what you literally asked her to do— you spiral like you just got dumped or something?”

When he puts it like that, it does sound stupid, so Jungkook doesn’t answer. He just takes another sip of coffee.

“I need you to hear how insane you sound right now,” Taehyung adds, pointing at him. “You’re acting like she tattooed the words ‘I hate Jungkook’ on her forehead.”

“You don't get it, hyung. I— I kissed her,” Jungkook says quietly.

Taehyung’s mouth snaps shut. He stares.

“And then she said that. Or didn’t say anything. Whatever.” Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, tugging slightly at the roots. “I know it’s stupid. But it felt… like I was wrong for thinking it meant something. Like I got my hopes up and she was just being nice. Or drunk. Or— fuck, I don’t know, trying to keep things from getting awkward.”

Taehyung leans back on his palms. He doesn’t say anything for a while.

Jungkook keeps talking.

“But it's fine now. I'm giving her space. Clearly she doesn't think of me in the same way anymore and fuck— it sucks but I'll learn to live with it.”

Taehyung exhales slowly. “Okay.”

“I just… I miss her. All the time. Even when she’s right there.”

Jungkook sets the mug down and leans forward, placing his elbows onto his knees. There’s something about saying it out loud, finally, that makes his chest feel like it might breathe again.

Taehyung watches him carefully with that frustratingly calm stare that always comes out when he’s being more perceptive than people give him credit for.

“You do realise you're fucking leaping to conclusions here, all based on something so miniscule.”

He opens his mouth, then closes it.

“I’m just trying to do what’s best for her,” he says eventually, voice quiet.

“Then just stop trying to protect her from yourself and talk to her," Taehyung says, voice laced with exasperation. "Maybe you're right after all — though I seriously fucking doubt it — but you'll never know unless you talk to her.”

“I can't."

"Why?"

“Because if I do—” Jungkook sighs, leaning his head back against the couch. “Then I have to hear her say it. That she’s done. That she doesn’t love me anymore. And, hyung, I don’t think I can handle that. I really don’t.”

Taehyung is quiet for a long moment. His eyes are unfocused, like he's thinking through a million things at once.

“Okay.” His voice is calm, but Jungkook knows him too well to miss the edge underneath. “Let’s say you’re right. Let’s say she doesn’t feel the same way anymore.”

Jungkook shifts uncomfortably, but doesn’t interrupt.

“Let’s say the kiss meant nothing to her,” Taehyung continues. “Let’s say she’s over it. Over you. That all of this”— he gestures vaguely between them —“is just her being polite and going through the motions.”

He pauses, watching Jungkook carefully.

“If that’s true... don’t you think she would’ve walked away by now?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer, but something in his chest twists.

“She’s not stuck here, Kook,” Taehyung says, voice softer now. “She’s not trapped. We’re not kids. We’re all adults, and she doesn’t owe anyone anything — not even Jin hyung and his proposal plans. If she really didn’t want to be around you, she wouldn’t be. She wouldn't have agreed to your plan in the first place.”

Jungkook swallows hard. “I never said she hated me. I just… I don’t think she loves me anymore. Not like she used to.”

“Yeah?” Taehyung raises a brow. “And what makes you so sure?”

Jungkook doesn’t respond. Because the truth is: he’s not sure. Not really.

"You can't keep pretending that you know how she feels because it's easier than actually finding out, Kook. You can't just avoid her under the guise of giving her space that she never asked for."

Jungkook scrubs a hand over his face. “When you say it like that, I sound like a coward.”

“You are being a coward,” Taehyung says plainly. “But I also get it.”

That surprises him.

“You do?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung says. “You’re scared. That makes sense. You’ve always loved hard, and you’ve never really figured out how to deal with the idea of it not being returned.”

Jungkook looks at him, something almost defensive rising in his chest, but then it fizzles. Because it’s true.

He has always loved hard. Maybe too hard. Maybe in a way that’s always been just a little too much.

“And maybe she’s scared too,” Taehyung adds. “But she’s still here. Still trying. And it's not fair if you don't try either.”

Jungkook’s throat feels tight again.

He thinks about your voice last night. The way it cracked, just slightly, when you said he couldn’t kiss you one day and ignore you the next. He thinks about the way you stood in the living room and asked if you could talk, like you were still trying to hold onto something.

Maybe she’s scared too.

That thought sticks.

“She deserves better than this,” Jungkook murmurs, barely audible.

“Then stop making her guess how you feel,” Taehyung says simply. “Be honest with her. With yourself.”

Jungkook leans forward again, elbows digging into his knees. His hands are clasped, jaw clenched. There’s a thousand thoughts running wild in his head, none of them helpful. But under all of it — under the fear and the guilt — there’s one quiet thought that keeps returning.

She’s still here.

Taehyung watches him for a second longer, then pushes up off his palms and stands, stretching his arms overhead until his back gives a quiet pop. He groans at the sound, rolls his shoulders, and then grabs his now half-empty mug off the table.

“I’m serious, though,” he says, glancing down at Jungkook, who’s still hunched over like the weight of the entire conversation is settling into his spine. “You don’t have to figure it out right this second. But whatever you do, just don’t hide from her.”

Jungkook nods absently. Not a promise, but not nothing either.

Taehyung takes a few steps toward the kitchen, then stops and glances back.

“Oh,” he adds casually, “and maybe be careful around the girls today.”

Jungkook finally lifts his head, brows knitting. “Why?”

Taehyung smiles over his shoulder. “Apparently Jimin overheard them planning to fight you if ____ needed them to."

Jungkook blinks.

“They were very enthusiastic about it,” Taehyung says, disappearing into the kitchen. “Might wanna watch your back.”

Jungkook huffs out a soft laugh despite himself, dragging a hand through his hair. Rain has started to tap against the windows again in a steady manner, and he's starting to find the glum weather to be rather mocking of the situation and everything going on.

He finishes up the last of his coffee in one, bitter sip before standing with a sigh and moving into the kitchen. His legs are stiff, muscles tight from sleeping in the wrong position — or maybe not from sleeping at all. He doesn't really know anymore.

He finds Taehyung leaning against the counter, phone in hand, scrolling aimlessly while sipping from his mug with the other. The sliding glass doors are to his right, blurred slightly by the rain dotting the glass. It’s not heavy. Just enough to leave streaks down the panes and a soft grey veil over the view outside.

Jungkook makes his way over to the coffee machine, and nudges the kettle into place. His mind feels weirdly quiet now. Not peaceful, but blank in an odd way. Like there’s nothing left to think until something new sets off the spiral.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

“Speak of the devil,” Taehyung mutters.

The tone pulls Jungkook’s attention immediately. He glances over, brows furrowing. “What?”

Taehyung doesn’t answer right away. Just lifts his chin toward the window.

Jungkook follows his line of sight.

Out on the sand, maybe a few metres from the lazy ocean, sits you. Hood down. Legs pulled to your chest. Arms wrapped around them loosely. Your hair’s getting damp from the light rain, sticking slightly to your skin, and you're just sitting there.

No umbrella. No towel. No rush to move.

Jungkook watches for a few seconds, expecting you to shift, to stand, to brush off your jeans or shake your head and head back in, but you don’t.

You just stay where you are.

Taehyung exhales next to him, tapping the edge of his mug with his thumb. “She been out there long?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know. Instead, he simply says, "She's gonna get sick."

Taehyung hums noncommittally, eyes still fixed outside. “Yeah. Probably.”

The rain’s light but steady, enough to soak through clothes if you sit in it long enough. Which — judging by the look of it — you’re doing. You're not curled up for warmth or sheltering your head with your arms. Just sitting, with your back to the house, posture unreadable, and from here, Jungkook can’t even make out the expression on your face.

That bothers him more than he’d like to admit.

“She doesn’t even have a jacket,” he mutters. His hand hovers near the kettle, but he doesn’t go for another cup.

Taehyung leans against the counter, casual as ever, and sips from his mug. “You think she’s out there because of yesterday?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer.

Because what’s he supposed to say? That he doesn’t know? That he hopes so, because at least then it means you still care — but also hopes not, because it means he really fucked up?

He looks down at the floor briefly, and shakes his head. “Maybe.”

Another beat of quiet.

Then Taehyung says, like he’s thinking out loud, “Or maybe she just needed to be alone.”

That makes Jungkook hesitate.

Because yeah, maybe you’re out there for space. And maybe walking out with an umbrella and a few soft apologies isn’t what you need right now. He could keep doing what he’s been doing — hanging back, trying not to make things worse, convincing himself that silence is safer than saying the wrong thing.

But where has that gotten him?

Nowhere good.

The kettle clicks behind him, but Jungkook doesn’t move to fill his mug. Instead, he sets it down on the counter and walks toward the door, eyes flicking briefly to the umbrella stand that’s been sitting there since the trip started, untouched.

He grabs the handle of the nearest one. It’s a little worn at the edges, slightly bent near the tip, but it’ll do.

He stands there for a moment, the umbrella resting loosely in his grip. He still doesn’t know what he’s going to say when he gets to you — if he says anything at all. Maybe you won’t even want to hear it. Maybe you’ll ask him to go. Or maybe you won’t say anything, just let the silence stretch between you the way he did last night.

But watching you from behind the glass, doing nothing, feels worse.

The air that greets him as he pulls open the door is cool and damp, the scent of sea salt drifting in with the breeze. He steps out, closing the door behind him, and pops open the umbrella with a soft click.

The sky is painted a murky blue — too dark to be morning, but too light to still be night. The kind of early where the world feels like it has come to a still.

You sit in the sand, your knees drawn up, your fingers tangled together just to keep them still.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been out here. Long enough for your plaid pyjama pants that you hadn't bothered to change out of, to get damp where they press against the ground. Long enough for your fingers to start going cold. The rain has softened to a mist, barely more than a whisper now, but you’re already soaked through at this point. Still, you haven’t moved.

You should. You know that. It’s not warm, and you didn’t exactly dress for sitting in wet sand like a ghost of your former self. But movement feels like a thing that belongs to people who have direction. And right now, you don’t.

You just feel untethered.

Not angry. Well, not exactly.

Just tired in a way you haven’t let yourself admit until now.

The past few days have been a slow unravelling. And yesterday — yesterday pulled at the last few threads.

You think back to the living room. The sound of rain tapping against the windows. The way you stepped in front of him, heart in your throat, trying to speak. Trying to say something — anything — to bridge the space that had suddenly, grown between you.

"I’m sorry the kiss didn’t mean anything.”

The words still sting.

You don’t think he meant it to sound cruel. Jungkook doesn’t weaponize words like that. But it definitely landed cruel.

Because it did mean something. It had to. Or maybe you just wanted it to so badly, you convinced yourself it did.

You glance down at your hands in your lap. Sand clings to the skin between your fingers. There’s a bit under your nails. You brush at it absentmindedly, then give up.

If you're being honest, this isn't really about the kiss. Or the argument.

It’s about how he’s been holding you at arm’s length ever since.

You keep trying to understand it. What changed. What line you must’ve crossed in that kitchen or at the beach or in the thousand unsaid things between you.

You try to make sense of his silence in the morning, of the way he ignored the coffee you made, the way he got up from the couch when you tried to sit beside him, and you keep circling back to the same hollow conclusion: he’s done trying.

But if he’s done trying, why does it still feel like he’s watching you every time you’re not looking?

You sigh, pressing your thumb to the inside of your palm, grounding yourself in the motion. Your eyes drift to the grey ocean that stretches out in front of you. It reminds you of Jungkook in that way. Always steady. Always showing up. Even when you didn’t ask him to.

Even now, after everything.

A part of you still feels like you’re waiting for something. For him.

And maybe that’s the worst part — not knowing if you’re waiting to forgive him, or waiting to finally let him go.

You hate that it’s not clear.

Because you don’t hate Jungkook. Not even close.

You’re hurt. You’re confused. You feel like you’ve been spinning in circles while he holds all the answers and refuses to hand you even one. But you don’t hate him.

You can’t.

He was your best friend before he was anything else. He’s still the person you catch yourself thinking about when something funny happens. Still the person you instinctively turn to in a crowd. Still the name your mouth almost forms when you’re half-asleep and dreaming about something soft and good.

And maybe that’s why all of this feels so impossible to sit with.

Because loving someone that much doesn’t always fix what’s been broken.

You close your eyes.

You don’t hear the sliding door or the soft crunch of footsteps in damp sand. You’re too far out to notice much of anything but the breath of the ocean and the thrum in your chest that won’t quite settle.

The rain stops rather abruptly.

Or at least… it stops hitting you.

You open your eyes, confused.

There’s an umbrella above your head.

And beside you, a quiet figure crouches, a little out of breath, holding it over you like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to be here.

Jungkook doesn’t say anything. His clothes are damp, his hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows. The shadows under his eyes and his hair seem to almost match in colour.

You look at him, but don’t speak.

He meets your gaze briefly. Then drops his eyes to the ground.

“Can I?” he gestures, motioning to the space beside you, his voice soft.

You don’t answer. Instead, you simply turn your face back toward the water like the question never left his mouth.

The space between you is narrow but it feels impossible to cross. And still, you feel him hovering there beside you, like he’s waiting for a sign you’re not going to give.

He hesitates before sitting down, the action almost cautious.

You hear the shuffle of damp fabric, the gentle thump of his weight settling into the sand. He angles the umbrella to cover the both of you, his arm stretched awkwardly behind you to keep it in place. You can feel the tension clinging to him in every movement.

The rain ticks against the nylon of the umbrella and the ocean murmurs. You can hear the faint sound of him breathing. You don’t look at him.

Not because you’re angry — okay, maybe a little — but because you don’t trust what might happen if you do. You’re too raw, too exposed, and you’re still trying to figure out if the ache inside you is grief or something worse — hope.

You’re tired of hoping.

Seconds pass in silence that slowly melts into minutes. You start to wonder if he's going to speak at all, or if he's continue his bullshit from yesterday when you hear him sigh quietly.

“I thought you were talking about me,” Jungkook says eventually, voice low, almost embarrassed. “When you said you’d never take back an ex.”

Your stomach twists as the realisation dawns on you.

“And I know I shouldn’t have assumed,” he adds quickly. “I should’ve asked. Or at least waited. But I didn’t. And it felt like… you were drawing a line. Like the kiss meant nothing to you.”

He shifts slightly beside you. You don’t look, but you can feel him angling toward you, tentative, like he’s bracing for impact.

“I didn’t say it to hurt you,” he continues quietly. “What I said last night. I just—” He sighs again. “I was hurt. And confused. And scared that I was the only one who still cared that much.”

You blink slowly, eyes on the sea.

He sounds sincere. He always does. But sincerity doesn’t patch holes. It doesn’t rebuild trust. Not when you’re the one who’s been standing in the wreckage for weeks, waiting for answers that never came.

“I didn’t know what to do when you didn’t answer me that night,” Jungkook says after a beat. “When I asked if you meant it. You just… went quiet. And I panicked. I thought maybe you were just being kind. Or that you were too drunk to really mean it. Or worse — that you were trying to keep things from getting awkward. And then I started thinking about what you said during the game, and I just—” He breaks off. “I spiralled. I thought I’d made it worse. That maybe being close to me again was just... exhausting for you.”

You still don’t look at him.

Not yet.

He sighs again, softer this time. “So I pulled back. I thought it was what you wanted. I thought, if you didn’t care anymore, then maybe I was just in the way. And I couldn’t take the risk of asking. Because if I asked and you told me straight out that you didn’t care for me anymore in the way I cared for you, I— I wouldn't have been able to handle it."

You finally turn to look at him. Just slightly. Just enough to see the way he’s holding himself — like everything inside him is tense and tired and barely holding together.

“You think I don’t care about you?” you ask quietly.

He blinks, startled by your voice, by your words, by the fact that you’ve finally turned toward him.

You shake your head slowly, incredulous. “You think I’d agree to your stupid plan to in front of our closest friends if I didn’t care about you in the slightest?”

“I didn’t know what else to do,” he says.

“I let you kiss me,” you continue, voice a little stronger now and sharp with disbelief. “I let you touch me like nothing had changed. I’ve spent every night in the same bed as you, Jungkook. Do you honestly think I would’ve gone through all of that if I didn’t care?”

He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

“Do you know how hard it’s been? Watching you treat me like a stranger one second and like something you still want the next? Pretending it doesn’t bother me every time you walk away when I try to sit beside you, or when you ignore the coffee I made, or when you act like I’m the one who created this distance?”

His jaw tightens, expression pinched like he’s finally hearing all of it — the hurt, the confusion, the vulnerability you’ve been biting back since this trip started.

You look at him then. Fully. And it takes everything in you not to cry from the weight of finally saying it.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he says quietly. “When we broke up.”

The more he speaks, the more questions that form in your head. You look at him, brows furrowed in confusion. His eyes are fixed on the ocean now, like he can’t bring himself to meet your gaze again.

Your voice is low when you finally speak. “The right thing?”

He nods once, but doesn’t elaborate.

You wait.

And when he still doesn’t say anything, you ask, “For who?”

He doesn’t answer right away.

Then, after a long beat, he says, voice so quiet that the sound is almost lost to the wind, “For you.”

That stings more than you expect. Because if this is what him doing what’s best for you looks like, you don’t want to see what the opposite would’ve been.

You want to speak, but you stop yourself. You want to hear the whole story — no more fragments, no more half-truths — and you want him to want to tell it.

Jungkook sighs again, rubbing at the back of his neck with his free hand. His other arm is still outstretched, holding the umbrella over both of you. You wonder how long he’s going to keep it there before his arm gives out.

“I know you’re mad,” he says finally, softly. “You have every right to be. I just… I needed you to know it wasn’t because I stopped caring. I never stopped.”

But that isn't enough anymore. You've learned to realise that caring and choosing are two different thing, and he chose to walk away for reasons you're still unsure about.

The silence between you stretches long and thin. You return your gaze to the sand in front of you, but you can feel him in every fidget and every glance he throws your way.

“Then why did you?”

He doesn’t ask what you mean because he knows.

And maybe that’s the worst part — that he’s known this whole time, that you’ve been drowning in confusion for weeks and he’s been standing on shore with the answers in his pocket.

His voice is hesitant when he eventually speaks. Almost as if he never wanted to say the words out loud.

“I saw the email.”

Your brow furrows before you even realise it. You glance at him, and he’s already looking down, lashes low, jaw set.

“What email?” you ask.

“The one from Berlin.”

Your stomach drops.

You hadn’t told anyone. Not back then. You were still trying to figure it out yourself — if you could do it, if you even wanted to.

You never imagined he’d seen it.

“How?” you ask, a little sharper this time. Your heart racing now.

“You left your laptop open. You were in the shower.”

Your lips part slightly. “So you… read it?”

“Just the subject line.” He looks guilty. “The name of the program. The ‘congratulations.’ That was enough.”

You look away, back to the ocean. You remember the moment now — coming out of the bathroom, finding him on the couch with his phone in hand, your laptop screen closed.

He must’ve seen it and said nothing. Carried it and let it snowball.

You blink slowly, trying to process. “You should’ve asked me about it.”

“I know.”

“Instead, you—” You stop yourself. Swallow hard. “You broke up with me?”

His answer comes quickly this time, like he’s been holding it in ever since.

“I didn’t want to hold you back.”

It’s so simple. So clear. So frustratingly stupid.

You let out a short, humourless laugh and shake your head. “So you just made the decision for me?”

Jungkook goes still beside you.

“You didn’t even ask what I wanted,” you say, voice soft but steady. “Didn’t give me the chance to choose.”

“I thought—” He breaks off, then runs a hand through his hair. “You’ve talked about wanting to live abroad since freshman year. About how you’d take any opportunity you could get if it was the right one. And that program? It was a huge deal. You worked your ass off for that email. I couldn’t be the reason you turned it down.”

“But I did,” you say, not looking at him. “I turned it down.”

He’s quiet.

“I turned it down before we even broke up,” you add, and there’s no satisfaction in saying it. “I read it, I thought about it, and I knew I wasn’t ready to leave.”

You glance at him, and he’s staring at you, frozen. “You didn’t even give me a chance to tell you that.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Because you didn’t ask.”

Jungkook lets out a shaky breath. “I thought I was doing the selfless thing.”

You finally meet his eyes. “It wasn’t selfless. It was cowardly.”

He flinches a bit, like you hit him, but you don’t take it back.

You don’t enjoy saying it. You don’t want to hurt him. But it’s the truth, and the truth matters now more than ever.

You look away again, toward the sky and the dull curve of the horizon. Your voice is quieter when you speak. “You say you never stopped caring. But caring about someone means you talk to them. You trust them to make decisions with you, not for you.”

“I didn’t trust myself,” he admits. “Not to be selfish. Not to ask you to stay.”

Fuck. In a way, he's right in that sense — you would've stayed if he'd asked you to and you're not sure if that makes you proud or foolish.

You draw a shaky breath and hug your arms tighter around your knees.

“Do you know what it felt like?” you ask, voice just above a whisper. “Thinking I wasn’t enough?”

Jungkook’s voice is immediate. “You are.”

“It didn't feel like it, Jungkook. It felt like— like you just realised one day that I wasn't good enough so you left. That I was something you could just throw away without looking back.”

“I just— I didn’t want to be the reason you stayed.”

Your chest tightens. You wish he’d said that weeks ago. You wish you didn’t understand it now.

The umbrella has started to dip, though Jungkook doesn’t seem to notice. His shoulders are slumped, his hand shaking slightly where it grips the handle. You don’t reach out. You don’t steady it for him.

Instead, you stare at the ground.

Because for the first time in weeks, you feel like you’re finally getting answers. And for the first time, you wish they didn’t hurt this much.

For a while, neither of you speak. You simply watch as the ocean laps at the shore gently, trying to quiet your mind.

Jungkook shifts slightly beside you, the umbrella angling just enough that a light drizzle brushes the edge of your shoulder. Still, neither of you move. He must feel it too, but maybe, like you, he’s not sure if he has the right to fix anything anymore.

You tuck your chin against your knees.

“I thought you were going to propose.”

He freezes.

You don’t look at him. Just keep staring down at the sand, wet and rippled and full of small, wavy lines. “I found the receipt from the jeweller. A few days before it happened. You’d left it in the glove compartment.”

His breath catches, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I didn’t know if I was imagining it,” you continue. “But… you were acting different. Distant and like, nervous. You’d been asking Tae weird questions. I figured maybe you were just waiting for the right moment.”

Another beat passes, and you let out a soft, bitter laugh. “And then you left.”

You finally glance at him.

His face is tight with something like regret. Shame, maybe. His eyes are focused on a point in the distance, jaw clenched so hard you can see the tension in his neck.

“I was,” he says, voice low. “Going to propose.”

You swallow hard, throat dry. “Why didn’t you?”

He hesitates. “Because I saw the email, and I panicked. Everything just—shifted.

“I thought if I proposed, it would be selfish. Like I was tying you down. Making you choose me over something bigger. Something more. And I didn’t want to be that person.”

“You weren’t tying me down,” you say. “You were supposed to be part of the future. Not the thing standing in front of it.”

Jungkook’s eyes finally flicker to yours.

“I know that now,” he says. “But at the time… all I could think about was what if you said yes because you felt like you had to? Because you didn’t want to hurt me? And then a year from now you’d wake up in some apartment with me and wonder what could’ve happened if you’d left when you had the chance.”

You blink hard, trying to keep your voice from cracking. “You should’ve trusted me to make that choice.”

“I didn’t trust me,” he says. “I loved you so much it scared me. I still do. And it felt like— like too much of me was wrapped up in you. Like I couldn’t be objective anymore. I couldn’t think straight. I just—”

He breaks off, eyes cast low, voice thinner now.

“I thought letting you go was what I had to do.”

You breathe in slowly, trying to steady your pulse. “So you let me go. Without asking. Without warning.”

“I know,” he says. “I know I handled it all wrong.”

You nod once, slowly. “You did.”

“I kept waiting for you to call,” you admit. “I thought that maybe you’d change your mind. That you’d wake up and realise it was a mistake.”

“I did,” he says, instantly.

The wind brushes past you, loosening strands of hair from behind your ear.

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” you ask, quieter now. “Why didn’t you reach out?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I guess I thought if I stayed away, it’d be easier. For both of us.”

You look down at your hands.

As stupid as it was, he thought he was being selfless. But really, he was afraid. Of being the one who made you stay. Of being the reason you didn’t go. Of being loved too much, and losing it anyway.

You don’t know what to do with all that.

You’re not sure if it’s something to forgive, or just something to live with.

The umbrella’s starting to tilt. His arm’s been outstretched too long.

You glance at it, then at him. He’s not complaining — just sitting there, jaw tight, fingers white-knuckled around the handle.

You reach over without thinking and adjust it yourself, steadying the angle so it stops dripping at the edge. Your hands brush, and his flinch is barely perceptible — not from the touch, but from the way it happens so easily. Like it always used to.

The umbrella rights itself. The air between you doesn’t.

God, this would've been so much easier if you didn't still love him. If you didn’t still want to know how he’s doing first thing in the morning or wonder if he’s eaten. If your body didn’t still tilt toward his in a room without meaning to, like it forgot what happened.

But you do. You still love him.

And love — the kind you had, the kind you have — doesn’t just go away.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t make the hurt disappear either.

You lower your hand, letting go of the umbrella. Letting go of him, too, just a little.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” you murmur.

Jungkook swallows hard. “I don’t want you to say anything you don’t mean.”

“I mean,” you start, then stop. “I need time.”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just sits a little straighter, arm still raised, rain still pattering gently over the both of you.

You continue, voice careful. “Not because I don’t care. I just… I’ve been so tangled up in everything that happened, and in what you did and didn’t say that I haven’t had a second to think for me.”

You draw in a deep breath. “And I need that.”

Jungkook finally lowers the umbrella. Not all the way, but just enough that the edge dips again and the mist kisses the back of your neck. He nods slowly, like it hurts, but he understands.

“I want to be honest with you,” you say, softer now. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t know if we’ll fix this. But I do know that pretending we’re fine, or jumping back into what we had— it wouldn’t be fair. Not to either of us.”

Jungkook blinks fast and nods again.

“But I meant what I said the other night,” you add. “When I didn’t move away. When I let you kiss me. It did mean something to me.”

He exhales shakily. “Okay."

You don’t say anything after that. Neither does he.

The sky has slowly started lightening into morning. You know you're going to regret sitting out here later — you can already feel the ache building in your back. But for now, you hug your knees a little closer to your chest and stay.

The stars are bright tonight, painted across the dark sky in constellations. A soft breeze rolls through the open balcony, and the air is cool against your arms where they rest along the wooden railing.

Up here, it’s quieter than usual. Everyone's gathered around in small groups as you stand a few steps off to the side.

Your body relaxes into the railing, elbows hooked over the edge. You haven’t really spoken to anyone tonight. You’d slipped back inside after the beach and crashed on the bed without a second thought. It’s the first time all week your mind hasn’t been a mess of things you don’t want to admit out loud.

Now, you feel the last of it — the fog of that sleep — still lingering at the edge of your awareness. You blink slowly, eyes tracing the way the light spills over the floorboards, how it wraps around Namjoon and Aria as they talk quietly near their door. Jimin’s halfway through telling a story to Hoseok, animated as ever, and Yoongi keeps interrupting with deadpan commentary that earns a laugh every time. Kiara rests her head against Hoseok’s shoulder, her hand absentmindedly playing with the sleeve of his hoodie.

They’re all waiting.

Yasmine isn’t here. She’s with Seokjin and Haeun, probably directing the last-minute touches for whatever proposal magic he's cooked up. She swore everyone else wasn’t allowed downstairs yet. “You'll ruin the surprise,” she said earlier, shoving Jimin back up the stairs when he tried to sneak a peek.

Your gaze drifts over the group again, pausing for a beat on the spot where Jungkook isn’t.

You haven’t spoken to him since this morning. You hadn’t meant your words to sound like a wall going up, but maybe they had. He's been giving you space ever since, and you'd taken it.

You’d gone inside and slept like you hadn’t in days. And now you’re here, awake and still somehow tired, unsure what to say even if you knew where he was.

You rub a finger along the edge of the railing just as you hear footsteps from behind you.

Jungkook comes to a stop beside you, close enough that you catch the scent of his cologne — faint and familiar, buried somewhere in your memory alongside sun-warmed sheets and midnight conversations. He rests his forearms on the railing, mirroring your stance. There’s a careful sort of quiet that settles between you, more comfortable than awkward.

“You slept,” he says after a moment.

You nod. “Yeah. Knocked out.”

His voice is soft. “Good. You needed it.”

“I think my body gave up arguing.”

He hums in agreement. “You looked peaceful.”

You glance sideways at him. “You were watching me?”

He shrugs. “Just… passed by. The door was cracked.”

You hum and let the silence return, not rushing to fill it.

Down the line, Jimin says something that makes Kiara burst out laughing. The sound is warm, and it pulls a small smile from you too.

You don't notice Jungkook moving until he's pulling something from his hoodie pocket. “Hey, um— before you say anything,” he starts, holding up his hands a little, “this isn’t me trying to win you over or anything. I just… I got you something.”

You blink, turning to him more fully.

He holds out a small bundle wrapped in crinkled tissue. “I actually bought it the day we went into town. That’s why it took me so long to ‘get water.’”

You stare at the bundle, then slowly reach out and take it from his hand.

“I saw them and just… thought of you,” he adds quickly. “That’s all.”

You unwrap the paper. Your fingers pause when you see what’s inside.

Earrings.

Small pearls that are almost identical to the ones you lost.

Your breath catches, but you don’t say anything. You just hold them in your palm, letting the weight of them settle, letting the quiet linger while your heart does something you’re too scared to name.

You turn the earrings over in your hand and the light catch on the glassy stones. They glint, just like the pair you used to wear.

“They’re almost the same,” you murmur.

Jungkook leans a little closer, arms still resting on the railing. “Yeah. I thought they were, too.”

You glance at him, catching the faintest curve of a smile before he looks away.

“Thank you.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

You brush your hair back and slip one earring in, then the other. They’re light, barely there. A part of you wonders how long he had them tucked away. How long he’d been waiting for the right moment — or maybe convincing himself there wouldn’t be one.

When you glance at him again, he’s already watching you. His eyes flicker to yours for half a second too long before he looks away, clearing his throat.

“They look good on you,” he says.

You smile, small and real. “You always say that.”

His mouth pulls into something like amusement, but there’s something else there too. Something quiet and tender.

He doesn’t say anything else.

For a few long seconds, you both watch the stars. And in the quiet, you feel it again — that thing that’s never fully left. The pull. The ache. The way being near him still feels like second nature even when everything else feels unsure.

The earrings catch the light as you turn back toward the sky, your profile soft in the glow of the overhead bulbs. You don’t say anything else, and neither does he. Jungkook stays still beside you, watching the curve of your cheek, the gentle sway of your hair in the breeze.

He lets out a slow breath and shifts his gaze forward.

There’s a strange peace in this moment; like standing on the edge of something that used to be home, knowing it may never be again, but still loving it anyway. He’s not sure what to do with that.

Then, from the stairwell behind them, Kiara calls out, voice bright and breathless, “They’re coming up!”

Everyone turns, chairs scraping and voices rising.

Jungkook doesn’t move right away. He watches as you straighten up, tucking your hair behind your ear. You walk forward a few paces, toward the centre of the balcony, just as Seokjin and Haeun step up into view.

“She said yes!” Seokjin beams, his hands thrown up in triumph.

Haeun laughs, eyes glassy and shining. “Of course I did, idiot.”

The group erupts — cheers, clapping, congratulations tumbling over each other. Jimin shouts something about planning a bachelor party that immediately makes Yoongi groan. Namjoon pats Seokjin on the back so hard it nearly knocks him forward.

Jungkook stays back, leaning against the railing.

He watches as you move forward and wrap Haeun in a hug, then Seokjin too. Your smile is wide — real — the kind that lights up your whole face. It hits him all at once: how beautiful you look in this moment. How easy it is to picture a future like that with you.

How close he’d come.

His hand twitches at his side.

He remembers standing in a jewellery store with Taehyung a few months ago, holding a ring box in his hand and wondering if you’d cry when he asked. He’d imagined this exact scene — your friends around you, stars overhead, your arms wrapped around him instead.

But it hadn’t happened. Because he hadn’t let it.

Because he’d thought he was doing the right thing by letting you go before he became something that held you back. Before he became the reason you said no to the rest of the world.

And yet here you are.

He swallows hard, pushing the thought down. It’s not just regret — there's something more than that. Something like almost.

Almost asked.

Almost said yes.

Almost forever.

Jungkook exhales slowly, and from across the balcony, you glance back at him.

It’s only a second, but he can tell you feel it too.

You look away first.

Only because Kiara calls your name, reaching out to pull you back into the circle forming around Seokjin and Haeun. Jungkook watches as you step into it easily, your laughter mixing with the others’, your hands clapping as Jimin demands a full retelling of the proposal, as if none of you saw it coming.

Jungkook doesn’t move right away.

He lingers at the railing, hands buried in the front pocket of his hoodie, eyes still trailing after you. There’s something familiar in the way you laugh at whatever ridiculous thing Seokjin is saying, the way you throw your arms around Haeun without hesitation, nudging Seokjin with a mock-scolding look. Like nothing’s fractured. Like you belong there.

You always did.

And maybe that’s what makes it hurt — how natural it still feels to love you in silence.

Eventually, he moves. Makes his way over with a grin that feels steady enough. He wraps both Seokjin and Haeun into a hug, murmuring something that makes Haeun laugh and Seokjin say, “Took you long enough.”

Just as he steps back, the first firework cracks open above.

A deep, thunderous sound fills the air before gold floods the sky, scattering into a trail of light that fades into falling blue sparks. Instinctively, everyone presses in toward the railing, crowding together. In the quiet jostling, you end up beside Jungkook again.

Neither of you speak.

You’re watching the sky like it’s something brand new. Head tilted back, arms loosely crossed on the railing, lips slightly parted. The reflection of the fireworks dances across your face in flashes; amber, silver, a soft lavender that makes your eyes seem even softer.

Jungkook doesn’t watch the sky.

Not really.

He watches you.

In the brief pause between bursts, he sees your lashes catch the light, your expression unguarded.

How are you still the most beautiful thing in a sky full of fire?

Another firework blooms — gold again, then violet, then a wave of silver sparks that make the whole group gasp.

You exhale slowly, like you’ve been holding your breath.

“It’s so pretty,” you murmur, just loud enough for him to hear.

Jungkook doesn’t look away. Not even for a second.

“Yeah,” he says, eyes only on you. “It really is.”

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[strawberrynightmere]

Fearless Manager [KPDH x Female Reader]

TW⚠️: canon divergence, reader isn't afraid of Gwi-ma, reader isn't aware of much, chaotic saja boys, etc.

A/n: For some reason, some of you asked me to tag you in this. Also, this is gonna be in parts

🌸Tags: @gremlinartstudio @chaos-inperson @alys-oli @rory1939

You stood still, processing your surroundings. You aren't by the vending machine anymore, yet that bill in your hand gets folded as you put it back in your pocket. Multiple eyes on your back, but you only concentrate on the dark part where no one was.

A frustrated deep sigh leaves you before you turn to the purple-magenta flames. "This could've been a phone call, I gave you a phone for a reason." And there it is again, multiple eyes on you, whether it was out of fear or amusement with how you address their master.

The bunch of flames coughs and tries to change the subject. "I have summoned you here to take on that favor." But tired little ol' you didn't let go. "And this couldn't be a phone call because?" And the ancient lord still avoided your question.

"I need you to take on the job as a manager."

"If you're having trouble Jelly can help, he knows how to use a phone."

"Enough about the phone! I need you to manage a demon boy band."

That's when you look to your left and see five demons dressed the same, you look at them individually and then turn back to Gwi-ma.

"I'm not saying that I won't, but what's the plan," You stop to motion to the demons on your left, "here."

"They play as a K-pop group in the human realm and I get souls fed to me."

"That checks it. Alright, why not." Unbeknownst to you, those demons were staring at you in bewilderment over how casually you were speaking to Gwi-ma. Any other human would be trembling in fear before having their soul taken away, and any demon would be destroyed by him in an instant, and yet here you are, alive and well.

Jinu studies you intently. You are just a regular human, however, Gwi-ma lets you talk to him like you were on equal ground. His starting didn't go unnoticed as you glanced at him before continuing your conversation.

Interesting.

He found you interesting.

You got transported back to your apartment with the five demons. A moment of awkward silence passes before you decide to speak. "You guys can make yourselves comfortable. I just need to go do something quickly." You say walking out the door, but you stop. "And if you break something, you have to pay for it."

Cut to Mystery, holding a fragile object before setting it down.

And then you run back to the vending machine you were at earlier.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

"Yes! It's still here." You exclaimed, taking the folded bill from your pocket and inserting it in the vending machine, pressed some buttons and watched the machine threw down the last candy bar.

"Yes."

As you are about to take out the candy bar, an invisible force shakes the air and evening in it's reach.

"The heck?" The force had pushed you onto your back and turned off the light from the machine. From what you could tell, it came from... up there. You're not sure what up there is, it's dark. You grab the candy bar and climb up whatever there is.

When you get on top you see a girl around your age with a thick long braid that reminds you of a scorpion, she was clutching her arms that were littered with familiar marks.

"Excuse me! Miss demon?" That seems to get her attention. You continued. "Whatever you're going through just caused a small outage."

The girl was now freaking out, trying to think of something to say.

"Is everything okay?" You ask.

"How do... how do you..." She tries to ask a question you already figured out.

"Well... I tend to know things... and more things."

A moment of silence passed between you and then you spoke again. "Whatever it is, it's most likely not from the marks."

"What?"

"Well at the top of my head... something you bottled up?" She didn't confirm nor deny it but from the looks of it, you might've hit the hammer on the head.

You sit down and with a flat hand tap on a spot next to you and the girl cautiously sits next to you. The city lights at night were always a sight to see.

You handed her the candy bar. "Sweet to calm your nerves." You might regret it, but then again you can always go to a store and buy this candy.

"Uhh..."

"It's gonna melt." You say in a sing-a-song way, you decided to be generous, and you probably won't see her ever again. In the end she did take it.

"Anyway, talk to your loved ones, don't bottle things up, be kind to yourself... and... enjoy life? I dunno... let's get down. I need to go and you need to go home too."

You two ended up parting ways with you saying "Bye whatever your name is." Which left her confused. You wonder why.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Once you came back, you saw those five demons poking at your TV. You cough to get their attention, and you got it. You gestured to them to take a seat, which they did. You stood in front of them.

"I guess introductions are up for grabs. Alright!" You clapped your hands together. How you hated doing introductions. "I don't know if the old man said anything about me, but... hi, I'm [Name], and I'm gonna be your manager." You try to sound enthusiastic.

'Old man?!' The demons though in unison.

One of them decided to speak up. "Uh, I'm Abby." Abby? Were his parents expecting a girl before he was born? "And I work in choreography." That's neat.

A demon with good hair then spoke overconfidently. "I'm Romance, and I'm the group's heartthrob." Wait, that's not an actual name. Whatever, the less that you know about them the better.

A demon with mop hair introduced himself. "Mystery." Short and descriptive enough, you might like this guy.

A baby-faced demon spoke, rather uninterested. "I'm Baby, and I'm the rapper." Wow, his voice didn't match his face, also you just realized that their names correlate with the stereotypes they will be playing.

"What's with that face?" Baby asked, eyeing you with some judgment. Shoot, you were unintentionally cringing. "Nothing! Sorry!" You apologized wanting to quickly move on. You're almost afraid of what the last guy is gonna say.

"I'm Jinu and I'm the leader of the group." You sighed in relief. Finally, someone normal.

"What?"

"Nothing!"

You try to change the subject. "Anyway, you guys probably planned this before pitching it. So what's the group's name?" There was no answer, but a flyer appeared in you hands.

SAJA BOYS

That seems fitting for them.

"And I can assume that everything was set up a while ago?"

"You assume correctly." Jinu answered. Grate! You're not sure why the old man wanted you to manage them, they seem capable to do things themselves.

Right then, Baby shoved Abby off the couch and a fight broke out with Mystery jumping in, barking for some reason.

That must be why.

"Not again." Jinu sounded exhausted. The fight rolled behind the couch. You went to the kitchen. "You just scared our new manager on her first day." Romance provoked them which ended up with three of them dragging him behind the couch. Jinu just rubbed his temples.

You come back and set a glass of water in front of him and offer him a pill. "Ibuprofen, for headaches." You're not sure if make things better, but it was worth a shot. Jinu takes it from your hand and downs it with the water.

"Good, now cover your ears." He reluctantly did what you said. You pull out a plastic container containing some rocks and go behind the couch. Soon enough, an unholy rattling noise separates the four demons.

This might be way more work than you initially thought.

"It's late for whatever this is. I'll pull out the sleeping bags... and talk to you tomorrow."

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The next day arrives and the guys get their human forms ready and you examine them.

"Y'all look like an ice cream store exploded, which is fitting for what you are going for." You stated.

They didn't know if that was a compliment.

"Alright, Jelly came by earlier and helped set the flyers and all that jazz. All you have to do is show up on time and do your jig and then announce you'll be participating in that show... whatever its name is. Are you guys listening?

It didn't seem like it, since aside from Jinu, they all were occupied with something; Baby was using a tablet, Romance was fixing his hair, Mystery was growling at the mirror, and Abby was flexing.

As you were about to continue, the buttons from Abby's shirt flew off. Luckily, you ducked in time, but they ended up braking your window.

"I want that fixed when I'm back." You say before walking out the door.

Yep. These boys are gonna be a workload.

A/n: that's it for part one!

[gilmourtheapatosaur]

Body: Sun is now set, time for bed, already shutting down

Me: Ok just need to brush my teeth and put on pajamas.

Body: Eyelids now closing for the night.

Me: Ok I’m tucked in bed now.

Body: Oh you were taking so much time trying to stay awake so I did you a favor and have now restarted all systems. I’ll let you know when I’m ready for sleep.

Me: …

im suuuuuper tired. i think ill stay up for another 5-24 hours

[heartyluv]

hi! can u yap abt cam!caleb being blue balled by his own daughter? like sudden wake up and knocking on their locked door.. i just thought abt out it when i read the last installation of the series where in baby Sloane is asleep and so on...

quick note: the way they’ve been on my mind sm lately. i’ve aged sloane up in this too, sooo she’s like four or something. i hope you like, bae!

i imagine caleb would wake you up with his head in between your thighs. this man can’t help but be horny when he wakes up to his beautiful wife every morning, and what better way to show his love and appreciation than licking your pretty pussy until your eyes open? his mouth is on you, hungrily sucking your clit and licking between your folds as he presses hip hips into the mattress.

it doesn’t take him long to wake you either, and he’ll smile with kisses grazed along your inner thighs when you hum with pleasure the more you become conscious of the bliss building in your tummy from what he’s been doing to you.

“good morning,” he mumbles, his nose inhaling your intoxicating scent the more you push your hips up to try and soothe that ache he’s been happily instilling.

“c—caleb…” you whimper. “that’s…mm..morning…”

“you’ll let me fuck you good to start our day off right, won’t you pretty?” he begins to trail up your body, smooching your plush stomach and flicking your nipples with his tongue the higher he gets. he’s already naked like you are from last night, the brief yet delicious sex you had putting you to sleep so fast that there was no time to do anything else.

he knows he’s insatiable, but the fact that you’re just as ready for him at all times is what causes him to be this way without remorse.

“hmm,” you smile up at him when you’re face to face, cupping his in your hand and biting your lip when he turns to kiss your wrist. “you know i will.”

his cock brushes up against your cunt as you clench around nothing in anticipation when he presses into you, excited for the way he’ll fill your tightness.

just as he grasps his length, kissing your lips and smirking as you giggle, there’s an interruption.

knock. knock. knock.

“no,” he whispers, his breath shaking as his head falls between his shoulders. he tries to wait and see if that was just his imagination—until they sound again to swipe away that possibility. “no. no, no, come on..”

they’re soft—gentle, and both of you already know who it is.

“mommy…” your daughter sloane mumbles on the other side of the door. you nearly panic when you hear the knob rattle before caleb assures you that he locked it before he started tasting you.

“daddy…” she calls out next. “i’m ready to brush teef. and i hungry..”

the knob shakes more in her sweet efforts to see her parents, but caleb can’t help but look at you with begging eyes.

“i’ll be quick,” he promises. “please, baby. just…ask her to give us a minute. that’s all i need.”

“caleb, hon,” you coo, bringing him down to press your mouth to his. “we can’t do that to her. our girl wants us now.”

“mooommyyyy…daaadddyyyy….” sloane draws out with impatience, starting to announce your names to her in a sing-song way to make you giggle, but caleb is so hard and ready to take you that everything is far from funny right now.

your husband closes his eyes and breathes out with dissatisfaction before opening them again to see your pretty face that gives him understanding.

and a leaking dick.

“later,” you promise. “i’ll be all yours later. let���s not make her wait anymore, yeah?”

even if caleb is about to lose his opportunity to have morning sex—one of his favorites—he’ll never trade moments like this for anything.

knowing that both of his girls are happy and safe? he’ll deal with blue balls to make sure it stays that way if need be.

“we need to have her spend time with her grandparents soon.” he rolls off of you, his cock twitching when he watches you crawl out the bed to slide your panties and robe on.

“you in’orin’ meeee,” sloane whines, still tapping on the wood as you wait beside it for caleb to cover himself.

“we’ll work something out,” you wink. “be good for me? clothes on.”

yeah, he’s absolutely gonna need to rub one out. “go ahead without me for now? i’ll cook us something when i’m…done.”

the tone of his heady voice tells you everything and it makes your cunt throb.

“okay,” you nod. “but, record it for me? i wanna watch it with you tonight.”

maybe he needs to come twice if he’s going to be functioning properly at all.

on your way out with the sheets covering his body, he answers you, his gaze fixated on the jiggle of your ass beneath your silk cover up.

“yes ma’am…”

a/n: forgive me if this isn’t great. it was quick LOLLL

[dollilacs]

Beg For It. ⋆˙⟡

Pairing: Namgyu x Fem!Reader | Squid Game

word count: 836

cw: 18+, language, unprotected piv, degrading, hair grabbing.

masterlist taglist

Namgyu searched everywhere for that damn cross and he couldn’t find it.

He needed his pills badly and he needed it now.

He knew the last person he was with was with you in that stupid hide and seek game.

It was lights out and namgyu was the only one awake.

He couldn’t sleep without his pills.

Namgyu got up from his bunk and walked over to yours, he gently shook you.

“hey..” he whispered, trying not to alarm anyone else.

“hey!” He whispered louder, shaking you more aggressively.

You groaned and turned to your side, facing him “what do you want you junkie..?” You said hazily.

“H-have you seen my cross?” Namgyu asked, shakily as he rubbed his hands over your arms.

“Hold on..” you said, rubbing your eyes and sitting up “okay now- what are you talking about?”

“My cross!” He said a little bit louder than before “shh..! You son of a bitch..” you grumbled.

Namgyu grabbed ahold of your legs “please- did you see anyone take it?” He whined out.

Your lips curved into a smirk “maybe.” You said, tilting your head.

Namgyu blinked rapidly “if-you have it please just- give me my fucking cross.” He said once again.

You smacked your lips together before pulling out the cross from under your pillow “is this it?” You asked, holding it out in front of him.

“Yes- oh my god thank-” you took it away from him before he could grab it “what the fuck are you doing you crazy bitch!” Namgyu shouted.

“Is that any way to talk to someone who has something you desperately want?” You said, Namgyu licked his lips and looked down.

“Fine- I’ll give you anything! I’ll- I’ll fuck you just give me my cross.” Namgyu pleaded, crawling on your bed and looking into your eyes.

You cocked your head to the side, putting on a fake thinking face.

“Hmm.. you know for all the time I’ve been here- I haven’t had much pleasure..” you hum out, looking him up and down.

“I’ll work for it- just give me my cross after this and you better keep your word you bitch.” Namgyu says, getting on top of you and locking your lips with his.

You held the silver cross in your hand while your free hand was tangled in his long black hair.

Namgyu tilted his head to the side, deepening the kiss.

You whined against his mouth as his hands roamed down your body, he began untying your sweatpants along with his.

Your sweatpants along with your white silk panties were pulled down to your knees.

“You’re a fucking bitch you know that?” Namgyu gritted through his teeth as he tugged down his boxers and lined his cock up to your entrance.

You giggled “I’ve been told that more than once.” You said, Namgyu slid his cock inside of you with one swift move.

Namgyu let out a low groan, feeling your wetness coat his cock.

He places one hand on your hip and his other hand in your hair.

He leans down and scrapes his teeth with your neck causing a moan to rip from your throat.

“You like that you pathetic bitch?” Namgyu whispers in your ear as he gives you one smooth thrusts, you snickered “you’re the one fucking me for a cross, who’s really the pathetic one?” You snap back.

Namgyu’s thrusts become more frantic and rough, you crawled into his back, breathing against his neck.

“You’re such a pathetic loser- you think I never noticed you always stick around thanos namsu?” You said, namgyu snapped his hips into you “g-gyu!” He corrected you.

You let out a breathy laugh “right- namgyu.” You wrapped your legs around his waist, trying to shove his cock deeper inside of you.

“Shit- you’re fuckin’ tight.” Namgyu whimpers in your ear, the feeling of your gummy walls clamping around his twitching cock made him feel over the edge.

You kissed right beneath his earlobe “that’s it namgyu.” You praised, nipping at his earlobe.

He bites down on your neck, snapping his hips faster into you.

The whole room was spinning with pleasure, all you could hear was Namgyu whining into your ear and your bed creaking.

Namgyu digs his nails into your hips, leaving a deep red mark.

“Beg for the cross namsu.” You whispered, holding out the cross in front of him once again.

He lifts his head up, looking at the cross with his pupils blown “pl-please give me the cross.” He begs.

“That’s it namsu.”

“It’s gyu!” He cries out before releasing inside of you.

You curse under your breath, following him a few seconds later. Your back arches off your bed as you moan out his name.

You both stayed silent for a moment, catching your breath.

“Please- give me the cross back.” He pleads, looking into your eyes.

You sneered, handing him the cross “all you had to do was ask nicely the first time, silly boy.” You said, ruffling his hair.

nini’s chit chats: starting to get back into kdramas guys.. so be prepared for more kdrama fics.

© 2025 dollilacs rights , do not copy my works or post on different platforms. <3

note: dividers or pictures do not belong to me!! Credits go to original owners/creators!!

[popcornpoppypop]

You're a Good Man, Jack Abbot

Summary: Ashley suffers from Endometriosis and Ovarian Cysts. When she's having a bad flare-up on a day when her partner, Jack Abbot, is covering another department, she has to deal with dismissive doctors.

Warnings: Endometriosis, ovarian cysts, vomit, medical neglect, surgery

A/N: I thought I had posted this forever ago, but I guess I forgot. Anyway, enjoy some protective Jack "I stand ten toes on business" Abbot.

The pain had hit hard and fast, something that Ashley was familiar with. She had Endometriosis and ovarian cysts on top of that. She knew pain, it was a constant visitor. Tonight it was different, worsening to a point that she hadn’t dealt with. She was barely able to stand upright; that was the final straw. She tried to stay away from the hospital as much as possible. When she got serious with Dr. Jack Abbot, he made that more possible. He took care of her at home most of the time. He was currently on shift, helping cover in the ICU.

Ashley made her way slowly but surely to PTMC. She wasn’t unfamiliar with the staff, but she hadn’t hung out much with them. Being a social worker for foster children kept her pretty exhausted, her and Jack crashed most nights. When she walked in, Lupe clocked her immediately.

“Hey, girl what’s got you coming in?” She smiled.

“Hi, Lupe. I’m in a lot of pain. Not sure what’s going on.” Ashley gritted her teeth.

“Let’s get you back, Ash.” She buzzed the door open and Ashley hobbled her way back.

“Hey! Ash! Shit, you look bad.” Mateo greeted her as he brought a wheelchair towards her.

“I feel it.” Ashley groaned as she sat down.

“Did you let Abbot know you’re here?” He wheeled her over to a private room, knowing that when Abbot eventually found out she was here, there would be hell if she didn’t have her own room.

“Not yet. Wanted to see what was going on first.” Ashley got into the bed with Mateo’s assistance.

“Make sure you tell him that when he comes down. We all like our heads on our shoulders down here.” Mateo chuckled.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll protect you guys from big, bad Dr. Abbot.” Ashley laughed but was overcome with pain and bent over in pain.

“Whoa, take it easy. I’ll dial down the charm for you, no more laughing.” Mateo put the monitoring leads on her. “Vitals all normal, heart rate is a bit high but not bad. You’re probably getting one of the interns tonight, just so you know.” Mateo gave her an apologetic look and shrugged.

“Well, they gotta learn some time, I guess.” She sighed. She had a hard enough time getting regular doctors to listen to her, let alone students.

“We’ll do our best to keep an eye on them. Let me know if you need anything.” Mateo sauntered off for his next patient.

Ashely couldn’t get comfortable at all. She flipped and flopped and turned in every direction, nothing helped.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Whitaker. I’ll be taking care of you today.” A young, blonde boy walked in. Ashley was already unamused.

“Hi. Can I get something to help with the pain? It’s getting worse.” She winced.

“Once I do my exam, we’ll discuss options.” He gave a thin-lipped smile that she recognized as disbelief.

“Yeah, sure.”

“What’s going on today?”  He gloved up and started looking over her body.

“I have endometriosis and ovarian cysts, so I thought it was just a flare-up. But the pain is worse than it’s ever been. It keeps getting worse and none of my regular remedies are doing anything.” Ashley yelped as Whitaker pressed on her abdomen.

“Okay, well I’ll order some blood tests. But I think you’re right, it’s just a flare-up and there isn’t much to do.” He nodded.

“No, this isn’t what my flare-ups feel like. Something is wrong.”

“Well, let’s get the blood going and we’ll go from there.”

“I want an ultrasound at least.” Ashley groaned.

“I don’t think that’s necessary at this point. I’ll have Mateo bring you in some Tylenol.” He nodded and left. Ashley groaned in frustration. She was about to text Jack when a wave of pain made her double over and drop her phone. She knew she couldn’t get out of bed to grab it. The call button was nowhere to be found, wrapped on some far-off piece of equipment.

She felt the bile building up in her throat; she fought it as hard as she could, but another crash of pain made her vomit over the side of the bed.

“Okay, Ash- oh shit!” Mateo came running over to help her sit back up and wiped her mouth.

“S-sorry.” She whined through the pain.

“No, nothing to be sorry for. Damn, this is bad.” Mateo cleaned up the mess and saw how sweaty and pale she had become.

“Mateo…call Jack…Please…” She choked out, pointing to her phone. Mateo ran over and brought it to her. She unlocked it and handed it back. “Can’t…talk…hurts…” She cried.

“Okay, okay. I got you. I thought Whitaker had more brain cells than this.” Mateo grumbled as he hit Jack’s contact.

“Hey, Honey. I’m not getting off for a few more hours. What’s up?” Jack answered.

“Dr. Abbot, it’s Mateo-”

“Why the fuck are you on Ashely’s phone?” Jack’s voice was stern, angry and worried.

“She’s in the ED. She’s in a lot of pain. I think you should come down here.” Mateo handed Ashley an emesis bag.

“On my way.” Jack hung up the phone before anyone could reply.

“I’m getting Ellis until Abbot gets here. Tylenol ain’t gonna cut it.” Mateo ran out of the room. Ashley cried as the pain wracked her body, she began shaking.

“Oh shit. Yeah, Mateo let’s her some morphine, now.” Ellis came in, her blood ran cold at the sight of Ashley. She ran over and started assessing her.

“T-thank you…”

“I’m sorry, Ash. I’m ordering an ultrasound. We’ll get to the bottom of this.” Ellis said. The door flew open, and Jack came barreling in. “Jesus! Honey!” He took in the pale, shaking form of his girlfriend and was filled with worry and rage. He ran over to her, brushing the sweat-matted hair from her face.

“Got the morphine on board.” Mateo said as he came running in and administered the drug.

“What the hell is going on that she looks like this!?” Abbot barked.

“Whitaker was on the case. I thought he could handle it.” Ellis said, standing in wait for her dressing down.

“Clearly not! Mateo, get him in here. NOW!” Jack yelled.

“Grab the ultrasound for me, too,” Ellis instructed as Mateo did everything he could to not be in that room.

“I’m so sorry, Honey.” Jack held her shaking hand in his. “The morphine isn’t touching her. Fuck.” He started grinding his teeth.

“Dr. Abbot? Mateo said you wanted to see me?” Whitaker came in, the fear evident on his face.

“What the hell would possess you to give such half-assed treatment to a patient?” Jack growled.

“I-I did what I thought was best practice.”

“In what world is a woman pale, shaking in pain with her history being treated with Tylenol and blood work, no ultrasound, no imaging at all, best practice!?” Jack stood, his anger radiating off of him.

“I thought…I didn’t know your relationship.” Whitaker cleared his throat.

“Why does that matter? I want your reasoning for treatment.” Jack’s voice was low, controlled and dangerous. Ellis had her arms crossed and head bowed, knowing she would be next.

“I thought she was drug seeking.” Whitaker tried to sound confident. It fell flat. Jack marched over, toe to toe with the boy. Jack wasn’t a tall man, but he didn’t need to be; he knew how to make people feel small.

“You’re not to touch her, look at her, speak to her again. You are off her case. You will learn to treat people better, Dr. Whitaker.” Jack growled, his breath making Whitaker’s eyes water from the closeness.

“Dr. Abbot…I don’t think you can make that call with how close you are to the patient.” Whitaker was trying to stand his ground and it was not going well.

“Whitaker, stop talking.” Ellis snapped.

“The only cases you will have from now on are constipation and enemas. Until you can be trusted to properly treat pain and care for patients in distress, scut work.” Jack hissed. “Get out of my sight!” Whitaker ran out of the room.

“Got the ultrasound.” Mateo wheeled the machine in.

“I’ll deal with you in a minute.” He pointed to Ellis as he got the ultrasound ready.

“Mateo let’s up the morphine dose.” Ellis instructed.

“I got to put pressure on your belly, I’m sorry Baby.” Jack said as he pushed the wand across Ashley’s abdomen. She let out a cry as he moved it across her body. “Shit.” He sighed.

“Ovarian torsion. Dammit.” Ellis looked over Jack’s shoulder at the screen.

“You’re going to have to get surgery.” Jack said wiping the gel from her belly.

“Just make it stop.” She sobbed.

“I know, baby. I’m going to.” He kissed her forehead. “Call up, get Walsh to put her to the front of line. If she gives lip, tell her she can come down here and talk to me.” Jack told Mateo who nodded and scrambled out of the room.

“I thought he knew better. I should have been in the room with him.” Ellis shook her head.

“Where the fuck were you?” Jack sighed, crossing his arms as he turned to her.

“I had a febrile toddler.”

“Is that patient also being neglected now?”

“No, sir. She just had an ear infection.”

“Good.” Jack paced in front of her. “I expect more from you, Ellis. You’re better than this. You dropped the ball tonight. If I hadn’t been upstairs, what would have happened? If it wasn’t Mateo, who knows her history and keeps an eye on everyone, what the hell would have happened!?”

“I need to keep better track of my students. I’ll be making sure all treatment plans are run by me for approval from now on.” She nodded.

“That should have already been the standard! Your job is to teach AND supervise! Do better! Get out of here.” Jack sighed.

“Ashley, I’m so sorry.” Ellis sighed as she left.

Jack sat next to the bed, doing his best to console Ashley, knowing it was fruitless with the pain she was in.

“If I wasn’t in so much pain…I’d jump you right now. That was hot.” Ashley gave a weak smile.

“Oh yeah? Next time you drop off my coffee, I’ll make sure there’s an intern around to yell at.” Jack chuckled.

“No, you standing up for me when I couldn’t.”

“I’ll always do my best to take care of you.” He kissed her forehead. The door opened and Dr. Walsh came sauntering in.

“Abbot. Thought I’d come down and escort our VIP myself.” She said, her tone laced with sarcasm.

“You dare to mingle with us ED weirdos. You’re too kind.” Jack smirked.

“Ashley, let’s get you out of here so we can both get some peace and quiet.” Walsh nodded to the nurses to start wheeling her out of the room. “You’re not allowed in the OR. Just setting boundaries.”

“No. I couldn’t do that anyway.”

“Can’t handle it?”

“Not with her.” Jack said as he let go of her hand. “I’ll be waiting for you when you wake up.” He called after her.

Jack marched back into the Pitt, his anger not diminished. He saw Dr. Shen exiting the break room and zeroed in.

“Hey, Jack. Thought you were upstairs.” Shen’s smile started to fade as he realized the anger that was rushing toward him like a freight train.

“You are the attending tonight, yes?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“So, do you want to tell me how one of your interns ordered Tylenol and blood work for an ovarian torsion case? No pain management, no imaging.” Jack looked like a raging bull, puffing air out of his nose to try and keep his temper in check.

“What? We don’t have an ovarian torsion case-”

“Yes, you did! Ellis dropped the ball; you are supposed to pick it up. Where were you!?”

“I was just…I, um, making coffee.” Shen hung his head, knowing that was a stupid excuse.

“Coffee. Ashley was writhing in pain, and you were making coffee!?”

“Oh shit. It was Ashley? Jack, I didn’t know!” John put his hands up.

“I have given you grace for too damn long. Robby and I will be discussing how to rectify your lackadaisical attitude.” Jack growled as he turned and stomped off.

“Fuck.” John sighed. He was shaken, having never been yelled at like that by Abbot.

“That man is terrifying. Like, for real.” Mateo shook his head as he walked by. “Glad it wasn’t my head on the chopping block.” He laughed as he went back to his patients.

Jack did his best to get back to work, making sure the ICU was taken care of. His mind was in the operating room with Ashley.

“Jack, we’ve got everything taken care of. Ashley will be out of surgery soon. Go, we can cover the rest.” One of the ICU doctors came up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah, okay.” They scoffed. “Well, I don’t need you and Gloria will have my ass if I keep a doctor overtime more than necessary. Go.” They pushed his shoulder toward the elevator.

“You’re a dick.” Jack smirked. “Fine. Thank you.” He nodded his gratitude and made his way up to the surgery floor.

Jack was never good at sitting in waiting rooms. He was used to being on the other side of the door, preferred it that way.  Luckily, at this time of night, or rather morning, no one else was there. He paced back and forth, his mind starting to take off with itself.

“You want to stop burning a hole in the tile, Abbot?” Walsh came through the doors.

“Everything okay?” Jack ran up to her.

“Who are you talking to? Of course, it went okay.” Walsh smirked. “She did fine during the surgery. We were able to repair the damage to the ovary and fallopian tube. I can’t guarantee there won’t be some troubles with it in the future if you two ever decide to procreate. God help us if you do.”

“Easy, Emery. I’m not my usual sunshiny self tonight.” Jack warned.

“Okay, okay. Since you are her medical proxy, I should also tell you that she’s going to need another surgery at some point. Jack, the endo was everywhere. I don’t know how that girl isn’t rolling around in pain every day.” Walsh shook her head. “I got out as much as I could but we went in laparoscopically. We weren’t prepared for it to be that much.”

“Fuck. She’s been having a harder time, but she never mentioned feeling that much worse.” Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. “Thank you.  Can I see her?”

“Yeah, she’s just waking up.” Walsh led him down the hall.

Jack tiptoed into the room, and Ashley was starting to blink awake. Her head lolling back and forth as she fought the remnants of anesthesia. Jack moved the chair closer to the bed and held her hand.

“Jack?” Ashley groaned, scrunching her face in discomfort.

“Hey, how you feeling?” He brushed the strands of hair from her forehead.

“Mmm…like they cut me open and flipped my insides around.” She sighed.

“Yeah, that sounds about right. How’s the pain?” Jack ran his hand up and down her arm, the sensation soothing to Ashley, grounding her and helping her wake up.

“S’okay. I’ve had worse.” She smiled up at him. “When can I go home?”

“We’ll send you home in about an hour. I trust Jack to make sure your taken care of at home.” Walsh nodded.

“Thank you, Dr. Walsh.”

“Ashley, the Endo is getting worse. There was a lot when I was in there. You need to let your provider know when it’s getting bad. There’s no reason for you to be in that much pain all the time. No more downplaying your symptoms.” Walsh warned.

“Okay. I promise.” Ashley nodded.

“I’ll have the nurse come in with discharge instructions in a bit.” Walsh made her way out of the room.

“She’s soft on you.” Jack chuckled.

“She has to be hard around you. She’s a woman in a man’s field. If she was soft downstairs, she wouldn’t hear the end of it.” Ashley tried to adjust but stopped as the pain pulled at her abdomen.

“Fair point.”

“How many people did you yell at downstairs? Are they all shaking in their boots?” She chuckled.

“The ones that deserved to be yelled at were dealt with.” He stated, not wanting to go further into detail. Ashley had a knack for making Jack feel bad for reprimanding his residents and interns.

“They’re still learning. I don’t think they’ll forget this lesson, though.” She chuckled. “I thought you were going to pop a blood vessel.”

“Seeing you like that made my blood run cold. I never want you to be in pain, but Jesus, Ash, you were so pale. I couldn’t stop the panic.” Jack shook his head. Ashley reached over and held his face in her hand.

“I’m okay. I’m here and I’m okay.” She told him, knowing that he had a hard time seeing her sick. It would, on occasion, cause his PTSD to act up. Jack leaned into her touch.

“There is no excuse for how they treated you. I don’t want this to happen to anyone else, especially if I’m not there to rectify it.” He took her hand, kissing the palm of it.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Jack leaned over to kiss her.

“Even if all of this means I can’t give you a family?” Ashley’s voice cracked. Walsh telling her that the endometriosis was getting worse, something she knew would happen, reminded her that it was a slim chance they would have.

“Ashley. I love you. You are my family. You are all I need, all I want. If we have a kid at some point, that’s great. But it’s not a caveat for my love. I’m fulfilled with you and our life.” He promised. Ashley pulled into a wet kiss, her tears streaking down her face.

“You’re a good man, Jack Abbot.”

“I try to be, for you.”

[yuckyyuna]

WHERE DID YOUR SHIRT GO?

yuckyyuna notes : saw this and went kinda crazy, like actually i wrote this so quickly...

warnings : smut, mdni, suggestive

JINU

the nervous idiot (suggestive)

• you had taken it upon yourself to clean the house before the other boys got back

• and jinu, being the wonderful boyfriend he is, decided to help where he could.

• "yeah, my arms hurt tho. abby dragged me with him to the gym yesterday" he said as he picked up an empty can drink.

• what jinu didn't realize was that the more he worked out with abby, the more muscle he had on him

• he stood up straight and stretched his arms up toward the ceiling with a small groan from tiredness.

• "pop!" "pop!"

• "oh..." his buttons on his shirt opened and he rubbed his neck embarrassed as blush crept up his ears

• "sorry, i didn't-" before he could finish, you had your gloves tossed to the side as you walked toward him.

• "Wait, what are you-" your palms pushing him down on the couch behind him as you sat to straddle him.

• his hands instinctively holding onto your waist as your finger traced over his stomach as you rolled your hips on top of him.

• now if you knew this is how your demon boyfriend looked underneath all that clothing, you wouldn't be cleaning in your free time.

• he had his head thrown back and his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he had never seen you like this.

• he is definitely going to work out more with abby.

ROMANCE

confused (suggestive)

• romance was facing the mirror, grabbing his shirt to put on.

• "rome, i saw these face masks, i wanna do-" as you entered the room, you froze.

• "we can do them whenever you want, love" he responded as he turned around and nodded.

• "scratch that, face masks can wait" you said as you dropped the shopping bag on the side and he looked at you so confused.

• you walked towards him, hands sliding around his neck and his arms pulled you closer, his fingers already working the knots in your back out of love.

• "what's got you so worked, mhm?" he whispered as he got close to kiss you.

• you quickly looked away and shook your head "you always take care of me, let me do the same for you"

• romance didn't know how to react, he was used to pampering you, not the other way around.

• your hands ran down from his neck, trailing lightly towards his pants as you got down on knees looking up at him.

• his breathing slightly changed as he stared down at you as you kissed his clothed thigh, and he exhaled heavily.

ABBY

he knows he's hot (suggestive, mentions of reader being a girl)

• "pink or yellow?" abby asked as he held out two shirts and you sat on the bed pretending to listen.

• "focus, my eyes are up here" he continued as he smirked and put down the shirts

• "huh? i like the pink one." you said as you shook your head.

• abby simply laughed as he got closer to you, his finger on your chin as he made you look up at him.

• his eyebrow raised as he tilted his head.

• "you said you wanted to help me pick an outfit, not imagine me between your legs" he said as his thumb pressed against your bottom lip and you unintentionally squeezed your legs together.

• he had to go to a promotional ad but work could wait right now

• he pulled you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as his hands squeezed your thighs.

• who was he to not give his girl exactly what she wants?

• "You're gonna have to stay quiet unless you want the others to hear you?"

MYSTERY

the slow one (suggestive)

• you lay on the bed as mystery was beside you. you were watching a show on the laptop together until you checked just how late it was.

• "i'll be back, i'm gonna take a quick shower." you said as you got up and walked towards the bathroom.

• you heard shuffling behind you

• mystery was simply taking off his shirt and your jaw dropped at the sight.

• he tilted his head in confusion. "what?"

• "why are you taking off your clothes?" you asked as you stared at him. (totally not feeling your body heat up)

• "you said you're showering, i need too as well." he said as he shrugged his shoulders and tossed his shirt to the side

• "no, you cant shower with me" you said as you pointed at him and stopped moving.

• "but-" "no, we are not going to end up showering." you said flatly as you shook your head.

• he thought for a bit and ended up with a small smirk on his lips.

• "i have self control, you don't." he said as he stepped closer and you stared at his body. his pants hanging loosely around his waist.

• you cleared your throat and he laughed as he walked past you into the bathroom.

• "let's go shower"

BABY

the flirt (suggestive)

• the heat was killing you as you sat in the living room watching a horrible romcom

• "where did you put the lollipops you bought?" a voice erupted from the kitchen.

• you looked up from you seat to see baby leaning against the counter, his shirt long gone.

• baby was the one member you never really spoke often with and seeing him shirtless was something you never expected to see (not that you're complaining)

• he stared at you waiting for an answer, your eyes dragging over his torso and he smirked.

• next you found him stand in front of you, the pink smoke around him, indicating he appeared here.

• "you’re staring." he said with a smirk and you looked away, rolling your eyes.

• "no, I'm not."

• "yes, you are."

• "i'm gonna slap you, shut up."

• "do it, i might like it."

• you immediately froze as you stared at him and he shrugged his shoulders.

• "hit me up when you wanna, im down." he said as he turned on his feet and walked away back to the kitchen, leaving you hot and bothered (and annoyed)

I was so serious when I said I wanted to draw them shirtless!(WIP) Fic writers I'm counting on you to make headcanons out of this lol♡♡

[confessionsandcreampies]

o. aiku relationship headcanons

he flirts with everyone, but is only serious with you—he calls the waitress ‘sweetheart’ and the fans ‘baby’, but when it’s you? his voice dips. his smile shifts. his hand lands low on your back. “you’re my only girl. they get the show. you get the real thing.”

overprotective without being controlling—if someone flirts with you, he’ll raise a brow, put an arm around your waist, and smirk at them while kissing your neck. they leave fast. he whispers, “you looked hot getting hit on, not gonna lie. but i look better making you mine.”

big on hygiene and looking good— he will absolutely shower with you. offers to wash your hair. rubs your thighs. ends up fucking you against the tile. “i was gonna be a gentleman, but you started moaning.”

the king of lazy cuddles—shirtless on the couch. legs wide he pulls you on top of him like a blanket and doesn’t let go. strokes your back and mumbles praise into your hair.

he doesn’t talk about his feelings until he has to—he’ll avoid it until one night he just blurts, “i didn’t think i could ever have something this good.” and now he’s quiet, breathing shaky and holding you like you’re fragile.

filthy mouth—says the nastiest things mid-stroke, right in your ear, “you hear how wet you are? all for me.” - “tight little pussy can’t get enough, huh?” - “you were made to take my cock, baby.”

he’ll eat you out for hours—face buried in your cunt, groaning. hands holding your thighs down while you sob. “you’re not done. not ‘til i say so.”

slight dom. high stamina. knows how to wreck you—he’ll have you folded, pinned, ridden hard and overstimmed while smiling. “you wanted this, sweetheart. c’mon, give it to me.”

light degradation and heavy praise combo—“my needy little slut.” but also, “you’re perfect. fucking perfect. look how good you take me.” he’ll say both in one breath.

he finishes deep inside every time unless you beg otherwise—grunts into your neck. holds your hips down. then watches it drip out with a lazy smirk, “my favorite view.”

aftercare is hot but real—he wipes you down and lets you curl into him while he runs a hand through your hair. “you okay, babe? need water? round two?”

oliver aiku is the man you shouldn’t trust with your heart. but he handles it like it’s the only thing that’s ever mattered.

[demie90s]

Please Focus

Nika Muhl x Rich!Reader

MORE | NAVI

Summary: Nika’s just trying to finish her homework. You’re just trying to see if you can make her cum before she finishes typing…you can

Word Count: ~1.6k

Warnings: SMUT. Fingering, lap play, teasing/orgasm denial, light restraint (chin holding/wrist gripping), semi-public (living room), praise, begging, lowkey control kink, rich reader behavior

Vibe: Silly rich menace x focused basketball baddie, lap-sitting tension, luxury domination, soft-spoken control

Nika’s nestled between your legs, cross-legged on the couch like she not sittin’ in the safest, most dangerous spot possible. Laptop open, fingers flying over the keyboard, hoodie riding up just a little at the back.

You lounged behind her like a villain who got the girl and the funds to waste the rest of the week on pleasure. Legs spread like a man with a throne, thighs bracketing her sides. Your arms lazy but not still. Never still.

At first, it’s soft.

You lean forward, chin hooking over her shoulder, watching the muted TV like it got your attention, but it don’t.

Not when she’s warm and pressed up like that. Not when she smells like that faint-ass cocoa butter and laundry sheet mix that always lingers when she’s been posted at your place too long.

Your hand slides onto her thigh. Idle. Unbothered. Just resting. But your fingers don’t stay still. They tap, glide, rub slow at the crease where her leg meets her hip. Innocent touches with not-so-innocent weight behind ‘em. You lean forward more, and your other hand curls under the hem of her hoodie like it belongs there.

“Stop,” Nika mutters, shifting just a little.

You freeze. “Stop what?”

“That.”

“I’m not doin’ nothing,” you say, voice smooth, fake-innocent.

“You never ‘doin’ nothing.’”

She’s right. Because while she’s tryna hit a deadline, you unbuckle patience.

Your fingers drift up her stomach, teasing the hem of her shirt. Not quite under until they are. Skin warm, a little goosebumpy. Her back arches just slightly when your nails rake up slow, brushing against the bottom band of her bra.

You hum. “You cold?”

She sucks her teeth. “No. You just touchy.”

You grin behind her, already sliding the clasp of her bra apart so quick she don’t even catch it. Just a little pop—nothing dramatic. The band loosens and your hand is gone again, tracing slow, wandering lines back down her ribs, under the fabric, over the dip of her spine.

She pauses her typing for half a second. Then: “Did you just—”

“Mmm?” You tilt your head like you’re confused. You’re not. You just know she feels that shift. The weight gone from her chest. Her bra loose under the hoodie. Vulnerable.

You take her hair out next pull the scrunchie free and let those soft brown strands fall around your fingers like silk. You thread through it, let your nails drag over her scalp like you love her thoughts and want to ruin them at the same time. Then you grab a handful and tug not hard. Just enough.

She gasps.

“You gon’ do the whole assignment for me too?” you whisper, lips against her temple.

“You tryna get put out.”

“I own this apartment.”

“…So?”

You grin again and don’t answer. Both hands now back under her hoodie, one resting low on her waist, the other sneaking higher up to cradle her side. Then… lower. You ghost over the top of her thigh, over the dip where fabric tightens at her crotch.

Not pressure. Not yet. Just heat. A tease.

She stiffens. “Yo…”

“Shhh. I’m not touchin’ nothing. You got a dirty mind.”

“You’re literally palming me.”

You make a small, amused noise. “Palming is crazy. My hand’s barely there.”

You apply just a feather-soft pressure. Not enough to distract. Just enough to undo.

Her breathing changes. She shifts like she needs to get comfortable again, but she ain’t fooling you. That laptop’s lookin’ a lot less interesting by the second.

Your other hand presses flat to her belly, keeping her still, as you lean into her neck. “You ever get to that part of your homework where it say ‘lay back on your girl and let her spoil you’?”

“No.”

“Well. You missed it.”

She exhales hard, hips pressing slightly into your touch.

You let your fingers wander again up her stomach, back under the shirt, then down, knuckles ghosting just above her waistband. You don’t go in. Not yet. You just remind her you could.

“Rich ass,” she mumbles.

“Sexy ass,” you murmur back.

“You annoying.”

“I know,” you say, tugging her hair again just a bit harder this time.

She moans low more frustration than pleasure, but it’s bleeding into both.

Your hand cups her again firmer this time. She jolts just slightly, and you press your lips to her cheek like it’s nothing.

“I said non-sexual,” she growls.

“You said focus. I’m focused.”

“On my pussy.”

“…,And?”

You grin when she throws her head back against your shoulder, frustrated and flustered, laptop sliding just an inch forward on her thighs. Her eyes flutter shut for a second, then open again when your hands settle one at her stomach, the other back to ghosting heat between her legs.

“I’ll book us flights tomorrow,” you say casually. “Kalua pork and ocean air. You need it.”

She exhales, defeated. “You need help.”

You chuckle. “Nah. I need you. And maybe a plate or two. That’s it.”

She turns her head, brown hair spilling over her cheek as she looks back at you. “If you don’t finish what you started…”

You raise a brow, fingers still poised, teasing. “You threatening me?”

She nods once, slow. “Deadass.”

She really thought she was gon’ work.

Nika sighs, long and dramatic, as she lifts the laptop again from where it slipped during your little teasing war. She adjusts herself in your lap, trying to sit up straight, like her body ain’t still humming from your hands.

Her hoodie’s bunched up around her waist now, bra undone, hair loose and wild like she just got out a situation and in a way, she did.

But she wanna act like she’s composed. Like she in control. Cute. You let her get back to typing. For now.

She got maybe six strokes in before your hand slides back under the waistband of her sweats.

“Y/n,” she mutters, already breathless. “Seriously?”

“I am serious. You said we was focused on the pussy.”

“You said that—”

“I meant it.”

Your fingers dip lower. Skin hot, soft. You push past the cotton barrier of her panties like it’s nothing, like you belong there. Truth is… you do. She don’t even stop you. Just closes her eyes for a second and exhales, deep, shaky.

That laptop’s still open.

You drag your fingers up the center of her heat, featherlight, until they find that slick spot waiting for you. Warm and ready. She tries to type like it ain’t happening. Her hands shake just a little over the keyboard. You catch it.

You curl forward, lips near her ear, voice low as sin. “You always this wet when you do homework?”

Her fingers pause. Keys click slower now.

You stroke her slow. Two fingers, smooth rhythm, light pressure. She twitches in your lap. Thighs tense. But she’s still pretending. Still trying to play through it.

God, you love this girl.

“Keep goin’,” you whisper, biting her earlobe just a little. “Don’t stop working. You can type and take it, right?”

Her breath stutters. “It’s not dick.”

“Feels like it, don’t it?”

She moans under her breath quiet. Real quiet.

You speed up a little, fingers curling just enough to make her arch. Your free hand wraps around her waist again, anchoring her, keeping her locked tight against your chest. Your thighs spread wider under her, cradling her body between them like a throne.

She stops typing. Hands frozen.

You grab her chin, firm but gentle, tilting her head to the side so her mouth is right by your ear. Her eyes are glassy now, her bottom lip caught in her teeth like she don’t trust her own sounds.

“Let me hear it,” you whisper, dragging your fingers harder, deeper.

Her body trembles. Her hand flies back to grip your wrist, fingers digging into your skin like that’ll help her hold back, but it won’t.

You got her. She’s so goddamn sexy when she’s falling apart.

“Mmmf—fuck,” she whimpers.

That’s it. You press your lips to her temple.

Her legs start to close around your hand, thighs squeezing together as her orgasm creeps up fast. She’s trying to hide it. That little shake in her belly, that clench around your fingers. But you feel everything.

Just when she’s about to let go…You stop. She gasps.

“W-what the fuck?” she pants, hips stuttering.

You smile slow. Wicked. And stroke her again. Once. Deep. Then stop again. She groans, head falling back to your shoulder, body twitching like she don’t know whether to cry or curse you out.

“Oh my God—”

You do it again. And again. A slow rhythm of tease and denial. Touch. Pause. Touch. Pause. Watching her squirm and beg with her body. It’s beautiful. She’s beautiful.

“Please,” she whispers. Real low. Like it hurts.

You finally push your fingers in all the way, curling up slow. Her moan punches out against your neck, shaky and raw. Her hand tightens on your wrist.

“That’s it, baby,” you murmur, holding her chin, pressing her against your chest. “Let me hear it. Come for me.”

When she does, it’s everything. She melts into you, soft, trembling, whimpering right against your ear. That pretty voice crackling with every wave of pleasure. Your fingers don’t stop this time.

You help her ride it out, slow and steady, holding her close like you don’t want a single inch of space between you.

She’s a mess now. Laptop forgotten. Legs still trembling, hoodie pushed up, hair clinging to her cheeks, face red and glowing and so damn fine.

You kiss her temple again, fingers finally pulling out, slow and wet. You wipe them on the inside of her hoodie like the menace you are.

“Homework done?” you ask, smug. She doesn’t answer.

Just slumps back against you and mutters, “You’re disgusting.” You smile.

“Love you too.”

@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 @mrsarnold @prettyyyinblack

[bsturnzmtts]

Lucky you - Chris Sturniolo

Pairing: fwb!Chris x taken!reader

Summary: Your old bsf with benefits finds out you have a new boyfriend and decides to show you no one can please you like he can.

Warnings: rough sex, cheating, unprotected sex (on the pill), creampie, big dick!chris, pet names, oral sex, doggy, teasing, etc.

You're at home alone, laying on the couch scrolling through your social media when you receive a text from Chris. "I'm outside, let me in"

You freeze, your heart skipping a beat. You haven't seen or talked to Chris since you started dating your boyfriend, Jake. You quickly put down your phone and go to the door, taking a deep breath before opening it. Chris pushes past you without a word, his tall frame towering over you.

Chris turns to face you, his piercing blue eyes locking onto yours. "Long time no see," he says, his voice low and rough. "I heard you have a boyfriend now."

You close the door and turn to face Chris, your arms crossed over your chest defensively. "Yeah, I do," you say, trying to keep your tone steady despite the way your heart is racing. "What are you doing here, Chris?"

Chris takes a step closer to you, his gaze intense. "I came to see for myself," he says, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch sends a shiver down your spine. "If this Jake guy can really satisfy you like I used to."

You swallow hard, trying to ignore the way your body reacts to his touch. "That's none of your business," you say, stepping back to put some distance between you two. "We're not friends with benefits anymore, Chris. I have a boyfriend now."

Chris smirks, taking another step closer to you. "I know," he says softly. "But I can't stop thinking about what we used to have." He reaches out and grabs your waist, pulling you against him.

You press your hands against his chest, trying to push him away but he doesn't budge. "Chris," you say, your voice barely a whisper. "We can't do this." Your body betrays you though as you feel a familiar heat spreading through it.

"Why not?" Chris leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. "You used to love it when I would fuck you again and again until you’ve lost track of how many orgasms you had. How does Jake do it? Does he take care of you like I do? How many times does he make you cum?"

You bite your lip, trying to hold back a whimper as he describes the way he used to fuck you. "Shut up," you say weakly, feeling your pussy throbbing at his words. "It doesn’t matter. I'm with Jake." You know you can’t admit the truth, that Jake hasn’t been able to make you climax like Chris used to, or even made you climax at all.

Chris chuckles softly against your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "You're so full of shit," he says, his hands tightening around your waist. "I bet Jake doesn’t even know how to touch you right. Does he eat your pussy like I used to? Does he even make you cum?"

"Stop..." you whisper, feeling your knees go weak at his dirty words. The truth is, Jake never goes down on you, always making excuses about not liking it. And as for orgasms... you haven't had one with him yet. Chris can clearly see your resolve crumbling.

Chris pulls back slightly to look into your eyes. He sees the desire there, the need that hasn't been satisfied by Jake. "I can make you feel good," he says softly, his thumb rubbing against your hip bone. "I can make you cum all night long."

You close your eyes, trying to block out the temptation. "Chris, don't," you say, but your voice lacks conviction. Your body is aching for him, craving the pleasure he knows how to give. You can feel your nipples hardening against his chest, betraying your arousal.

Chris leans down and presses his lips against your neck, sucking hard. You gasp, your head tilting to the side to give him better access. "Open your legs," he demands, his voice firm. "Let me remind you how good my tongue feels on your clit."

You hesitate for a moment, knowing that opening your legs for him is a line you shouldn’t cross. But your body is on fire, desperate for the release that only Chris can give you. Slowly, you part your legs, giving him the silent permission he needs.

Chris groans against your mouth as he feels how wet you already are through your jeans. He knows he has you now. He picks you up and carries you to your bedroom, laying you down on the bed. He gets on his knees slowly unzips your jeans to find a red stamp saying ‘lucky you’ he lets out a small chuckle and takes your jeans off completely. Then he spreads your legs wider, pulling your white lace panties aside.

Chris buries his face between your thighs, his tongue immediately finding your clit. He sucks and licks like he’s starving, his fingers spreading you wider apart. He knows exactly what you like - the pressure, the rhythm. Your back arches instantly as you feel the first real pleasure in months.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you whimper, grabbing his hair as he eats your pussy like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. Your boyfriend never does this, never goes down on you like this. He knows your body better than anyone else, and it shows. He slides a finger inside you and starts pumping in and out, curling it upwards to hit your G-spot. "Chris..."

Chris hums against your clit, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through your body. He knows you're close, and he's not about to stop now. He adds another finger, stretching you wide as he continues to suck on your sensitive nub. "You like that?"

"Yes," you gasp, your hips moving on their own to grind against his face. You can feel the pressure building inside you, your body tensing as you approach the edge. "Don't stop, Chris. Please don't stop." You're so close, closer than you've ever been with Jake.

"Cum for me," he whispers against your soaking pussy, knowing exactly how to destroy your self-control. His tongue swirls around your clit faster, his fingers pumping harder. He can feel your walls tightening around him. "Show me who makes you feel this good."

With a final thrust of his fingers and a hard suck on your clit, you shatter completely. You scream out his name, gripping his hair tightly as an intense orgasm rips through your body. Chris keeps his mouth on you, licking and sucking through your entire orgasm until you’re trembling and soaked.

Chris slowly pulls his fingers out of you, licking them clean as he crawls up your body. He kisses you hard, letting you taste yourself on his lips. "I missed this," he says, pressing his cock against your thigh. You can feel how hard he is for you.

You look into his eyes, still panting from your orgasm. The sight of his hard cock pressing against you makes your body ache for more. You know you should stop this, but the pleasure is too intense to resist. You reach down and rub him through his jeans, feeling his length and thickness.

Chris groans deeply as you touch him, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. He quickly unbuckles his belt and pulls his jeans and boxers down, freeing his hard length. He's bigger than Jake, thicker and longer. He grabs your hand and wraps it around his cock.

He guides your hand, showing you how he likes to be stroked. "Feel how hard I am for you?" he asks, his voice husky with desire. You can feel the heat radiating from him, the way his cock pulses in your hand.

He suddenly flips you onto your stomach and spreads your legs. He lines himself up with your wet pussy and slowly pushes in, filling you completely. You moan loudly at the sensation of him stretching you open. He starts moving slowly at first, but soon picks up speed, pounding into you from behind.

"Fuck," you cry out as he hits spots inside you that have never been touched before. His cock is so big it feels like he's hitting every nerve ending possible. He leans over and bites your shoulder gently while continuing his relentless rhythm.

One hand grips your hip tightly enough to leave marks while the other reaches around to play with your clit again. The dual sensation of being stretched fully by his cock and stimulated directly is too much. You're already close to another orgasm from just him fucking you raw and deep.

"You're so fucking tight..." he breathes out, his pace becoming more intense. He can feel your walls clutching around him, your moans driving him crazy. "Is this better than fucking Jake? Being stretched open on my cock?"

His dirty words send a new wave of pleasure through you. You can't help but nod, your voice broken by moans. "Yes... oh god, yes..." Your body is completely at his mercy, another orgasm building rapidly.

Chris suddenly pulls out and flips you onto your back. He lifts your legs up high, pushing them back towards your chest as he slams back into you. This new angle hits even deeper, his balls hitting your ass with each thrust.

"Look at me," he demands, his eyes filled with pure lust. "Look at who's fucking you now." His movements are fast and hard, the room filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and your moans of pleasure. He leans down to capture your lips in a rough kiss.

You break the kiss to gasp for air, your hands gripping his muscular arms for support. "Chris... oh my god, Chris..." You chant his name like a prayer as he fucks you into the mattress. Your eyes are rolling back, your body trembling with impending release.

"That's right, baby. Say my name." He smiles wickedly against your neck, biting down gently. "Come for me. Let me feel you come all over my cock." His thrusts become even more powerful, his hips snapping forward in a punishing rhythm.

With a final, deep thrust, you feel your orgasm crash over you like a tidal wave. Your pussy clenches tightly around Chris's cock as you scream his name. He buries himself deep inside you and releases his own load, filling you with his hot cum.

"Fuck... did Jake ever make you feel this good?" He continues thrusting slowly through your orgasm, milking every last wave of pleasure. "You're way too precious to be settling for just his tiny dick." He leans down and catches your bottom lip between his teeth. "Break up with him..."

Taglist pt 1:

@blahbel668 @bernardsbendystraws @sturnzsblog @deffonotjae @suyqa

@mattsturniololover1 @mattsturniolosgf @annsx03 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @strnzzvsp

@mattsfavbitchhh @yourenogoodforme-blog @mattshighway @lauren-222 @slvtformatts

@megamorgan44 @xaristhings @ariestrxsh @sucretwin @tisiablack

@sturniololover69 @wakeupitschrizz @jessie-essie @freshlov3 @sturniolofreakk

@lydi2718 @chrisstvrns @le4hsblog @pip4444chris @chris-hallelujah

@esioleren @namelesssav @ilovemenwithlonghairr @ribread03 @valkatriee

@sturniolofreakk @izzylovesmatt @lolastrniolo @pip4444chris @idrk2292

@strnilolover @2prcntmilkluvr @chrissbows @chrissweetheart @strvnolin

@nelxoxo14 @miasturn1ol0 @mattssslutbby @sophsturns @sturnberrys

[simplequietude]

Florida native here, adding my own experiences. This is a bit of a long post, but I promise it’s all important.

Firstly, and most importantly, DO NOT substitute electrolyte drinks for water. Your body needs water to process those electrolytes and sugars that keep you running. A good rule of thumb is for every one bottle of electrolytes, drink 2-4 bottles of water. I know of people who collapsed because they drank too many electrolytes and not enough water. ELECTROLYTES ≠ HYDRATION

Secondly, and equally importantly, NEVER LEAVE ANYTHING LIVING IN A VEHICLE THAT IS NOT RUNNING. If it’s 80°F outside, it will be at least 100°F inside the vehicle. Children have died because of this. Take your child with you or, if that’s not possible (i.e. a pet), leave the car running. I don’t care if it uses up gas. Spending more money on gas is infinitely less costly than spending money on your child’s funeral. (For cold numbers, it’s ~$60 for a full tank of gas. It’s ~$2,500 on average for a single grave plot — not including the casket, vault, funeral arrangements, headstone, and lawyer fees for going on trial after killing your child. You do the math.) (And if it was a pet you killed, you can still get tried for animal abuse. You’ll need a lawyer for that, too.)

Now, depending on your AC type — and if you’re living in a hot area, this should be one of your biggest investments — do some basic maintenance before the heat starts. Call a technician if you don’t know how. Check your air filters and vents to make sure they are clean and clear. If there are blockages on the inflow or outflow areas, it will make the AC work harder and increase the risk of it breaking. You do not want your AC to break in hot weather.

However, if your AC does break, or the power goes out for whatever reason (hurricane, thunderstorm, brownout, etc.), your second best investment is to have a good supply of fans and frozen/cool water bottles. Put a frozen/cool water bottle in front of or behind a fan and it will cool the fan’s air down. Use a water-filled spray bottle and spray it in front of the fan to imitate those cooling misters you see at theme parks. Even dump water on yourself and stand in front of a fan to let the evaporation cool you off. In the heat, fans and water are your friends.

If you can, get a personal fan and bring it everywhere. (I like ~8-inch ones with USB plugs, makes it easier to use battery packs and carry around.) There is nothing worse than still air in a hot room. Even moving hot air is better than nothing, because it helps your sweat evaporate faster.

If you’re in a subtropical area like me, where rain is semi-regular in the afternoons and early evenings, make sure to time your activities to this. Summer rainstorms rarely last longer than two hours, and can cool down the temperature by as much as twenty degrees. This is the peak time to do anything outside, even better than before noonish when the world is still heating up. Ignore the muck and mud. It’s better to be damp and muddy than to risk heatstroke or heat exhaustion.

As for humidity, OP is right: humidity is not your friend. For the same reason soaking a long time in a bathtub will dehydrate you, being in high humidity for a long time will also dehydrate you. Drink water and electrolytes. If you are in a building with little-to-no AC and it’s humid, you still have to stay hydrated. It’s not the sun here that’s the cause of humidity, it’s the hot, wet air itself — especially air without movement. High humidity inside a hot building can be worse than high humidity outside in the heat.

Avoid going into the attic. This should be a no-brainer, but sometimes it’s gotta be done for whatever reason. Attics are humid hellscapes in the summer. Drink water. Take regular breaks. Move slowly. Do not spend more than half an hour up there at a time. If your skin is slick with sweat, it’s past time to get out of the attic and somewhere cooler. Rehydrate.

Also, cloudy skies does not necessarily mean it’s safer outside. UV doesn’t care about clouds, you will get sunburned if you aren’t careful. Cover up, stay in the shade, and if you have to be in the sun, wear the highest SPF sunscreen you can find. (In a pinch, mud works as a rudimentary sunscreen.) And remember, sunscreen must be reapplied every two to three hours, no matter what kind it is. I forgot that once at the beach and my sunburn was so red it was almost purple.

Look into getting an umbrella with a SPF rating of at least 60+ if you don’t like sunscreen. That way, you’ll be covered, rain or shine.

If you’re out and about for a while, especially if you’re with kids, bring a cooler full of water bottles, juice/electrolytes, snacks, and ice packs. You burn a lot of energy in the heat, eat to replenish that. Use the ice packs and water bottles to cool yourself off; wrists, thighs, upper chest, upper back, neck/throat, insides of elbows and knees, and armpits are good spots to put something cold when you need to cool off fast. Same rules for icing a bruise: twenty minutes on, twenty minutes off. Be very careful you don’t induce shock from the rapid temperature change. Start cooling your extremities (thighs, wrists, elbows/knees) first before cooling your core, especially your neck/throat and upper chest.

Wear light, pale colors. Dark, vibrant colors trap heat. If you wouldn’t wear it walking on the street at night because a driver might not see you there in the dark, don’t wear it on a hot day.

Finally, when it’s hot out, move slowly. Do not rush if you don’t have to. Faster movement equals more heat. If you’re a jogger, a cyclist or something similar, consider finding a gym membership for at least a few months. If you can’t/won’t, then go slower. You will burn just as much energy as before simply battling the heat.

Be smart, people.

Water your outdoor plants in the evening or at night if you don’t get rain.

Carry collapsible pet bowls and extra bottles of water if you have a furry/scaled/feathered friend.

Consider getting your furry friends shaved/trimmed or buying them heat-blocking booties.

Furry friends with little fur can still get sunburn, prepare accordingly. This includes birds and reptiles.

Make sure any outdoor ponds with fishy friends have optimal clean water levels; evaporation can cause toxins to become concentrated.

Avoid wearing layers, as this will trap air, and thus heat.

Unless you need to, try not to wear socks; socks are just gloves for feet, and trap heat accordingly.

If you are outside for more than twenty minutes, you need to wear sunscreen.

Don’t forget to put sunscreen on your ears, your hands, your legs, and on top of your feet if you’re wearing open-toed shoes.

Being in the ocean/pool/water will not protect you from sunburn.

Your scalp can get sunburned, too: wear hats.

Sand can get very hot; wear flip-flops or water shoes if you’re at the beach.

Avoid walking barefoot on concrete or asphalt.

Be wary of hot concrete around pools.

Grass is cool in the morning and hot in the afternoon.

Avoid anything metal or leather/pleather; boat-friendly/marine metal is usually ok.

If you’re getting ice cream to cool off, drink lots of water to go with it.

Keep your blinds closed when you can.

Don’t open doors and windows longer than you have to; your AC can’t cool both your house and the outdoors.

Avoid going upstairs; heat rises, and upstairs will always be hotter than downstairs.

Check the freon levels in your car’s AC regularly and refill them if necessary.

Cooling off in your car is best done when the car is moving. Cars can overheat too, especially because most engines are at least partially air-cooled.

If your car is overheating, press the gas to race the engine if you are parked, as well as turn the AC temperature up until it’s hot. This will allow things to circulate and cool off. If this isn’t working, something is probably wrong with your car’s cooling system.

Getting chills when it’s hot out is a sign you are close to becoming dangerously overheated. Stop whatever you’re doing, get somewhere cooler, and rehydrate. Eat something.

And for the love of whatever god you hold dear, consider getting one of those big refillable thermoses you can carry around so you’re never stuck without water.

Hopefully this helps. A lot of it may seem common sense, but better to say it than to assume somebody already knows it.

For all of the northerners that stood up for Texas during our freeze and said, "Don't make fun of them, they've never dealt with this before. Their infrastructure isn't made for snow and freezing."

This one is for you.

Where I live 108°F with 80% humidity with no wind is normal.

Pacific North West is dealing historic best waves 35-40°C or 95-105°F.

First of all. Don't make fun of them for bitching about the heat. Just like Texas isn't built for a freeze and our pipes burst, Pacific North West isn't built for heat and a lot of their homes don't have AC.

If you live somewhere with a high humidity like 80+ HUMIDITY IS NOT YOUR FRIEND. The "humidity makes it feel cooler" is a lie once it gets beyond a point.

If you live somewhere with a lower humidity, misters are nice to cool off outside.

Once you get over 90°F (32°C) a fan will not help you. It's just pushing around hot air. (I mean if you can't afford a small AC unit because they're expensive as hell, by all means a fan is better than nothing).

If you have pets, those portable AC units aren't safe. If your pets destroy the outtake thing, it'll leak CO2. Window units are safer.

Window AC units will let mosquitoes or other small bugs in. Sucks, but that's life.

Now is not the time to me modest. If you have to cover for religious reasons, by all means. If you don't, I've seen people wear short shorts and a swim top. It's not trashy if it keeps you from getting heat stroke.

If you do have to cover up for religious reasons, look for elephant pants or something similar. They're made with a breathable material.

Shade is better than no shade, but that shit it just diet sun after some point. Don't think shade will save you from heat stroke.

I know the "drink your water" is a fun meme now, but if you're sweating excessively you need electrolytes. Drink Gatorade, Powerade, or Pedialite PLEASE. I don't care if you're fucking sitting in one spot all day. That shit WILL save you from heat stroke.

Most importantly. RESEARCH THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN HEAT STROKE AND HEAT EXHAUSTION PLEASE!

If you're diabetic and can't drink Gatorade, mix water, fruit juice, and either lite salt or pink salt

If you can afford it, cover windows with thick curtains to insulate the house

If you have tile floors, lay on them with skin to tile contact. If you don't, laying your head on cool counters works too.

If the temperature where you're at is hotter than your body temperature, don't wear heat wicking clothing. Moisture wicking is safe though.

Check your medication labels. Many make you more susceptible to sun and heat

-Room temperature water will get into your body faster. This is something I learned doing marching band in high summer in Georgia, and it saved all of our asses. Sip it, don't gulp it, especially if you're getting into the red; same goes for whatever fluid you're drinking. And just in general drink during the day.

-If you are moving from an air conditioned space to an un-air conditioned space, if at all possible try to make the shift gradual. When my dad and I were working outside and in un-ac houses a few years ago, he'd turn the air down to low in the truck about ten-fifteen minutes before we got where we were going. This way your body doesn't go from low low temps to high temps. S'bad for you.

-If you can, keep your lights off during the day. Light bulbs may not generate a lot of heat, but the difference is noticeable when it gets hot enough. I literally only turn my bedroom light on in the evening when it gets too dark.

Don't be afraid to just like... pour water on yourself if you need to. The evaporation will cool you off.

Put your hand to the cement for 15 seconds. If you can't handle the heat, it'll burn your dog's paws. Don't let them walk on it.

Dogs with flat faces are more prone to heat stroke. Don't leave them out unsupervised.

Frozen fruit is delicious in water.

Wet/Cold hat/handkerchief on your head/neck will help you stay cool.

Pickle juice is great for electrolytes! You can even make pickle juice Popsicles!

Heat exhaustion is more, "drink water and get you cooled off." Heat stroke is more "Oh my god call 911."

Image Description provided by @loveize

[Image description: an infographic showing the difference between heat exhaustion and heat stroke. The graphic is labeled "Heat Dangers: First Warning." Signs of heat exhaustion: faint or dizzy, excessive sweating, cool, pale, clammy skin, rapid, weak pulse, muscle cramps. If you think you or someone else may be experiencing heat exhaustion, get to a cool, air-conditioned place, drink water if conscious, and take a cool shower or use cold compress. Signs of heat stroke: throbbing headache, no sweating, red, hot, dry skin, rapid, strong pulse, may lose consciousness. If you think you or someone else may be experiencing heat stroke, call 911. End description]

Be safe.

-fae

[e1e4n0r5]

Got a Lil Sugar: Chapter 1

Fandom: Arcane: League of Legends

Pairing: Sugar Mommies Cait & Vi x Sugar Baby Reader

Words: 3184

Synopsis: In dire financial straits, you ask your friend Mel for advice. Unfortunately you have a rocky start.

Warnings: Financial distress, mentions of illness, discussions of sex work, creeps on the internet, lesbian reader has to flirt with men

Notes: Sex work is a very complicated industry with a lot of nuance. There are positives, and there are negatives. This fic does not shy away from the negatives, and there will be times when Reader is uncomfortable. I know this fic is just a smutty piece of fiction, but I don't want to glamorise what can be, at times, a very difficult job. Please read, and enjoy, at your own discretion.

The cappuccino in front of you was the prettiest, most luxurious thing you’d seen all week, all perfect foam and dusted chocolate, served in a ceramic cup you couldn’t afford to break.

You could barely afford the bus ride home.

Across from you, Mel sat with her phone face-down on the polished wooden table, perfectly at ease in her designer coat, and heels that probably cost more than your rent. She smiled faintly, like she always did when she saw you looking at the little gold bracelet on her wrist or the new bag over her shoulder.

“Stop staring,” she teased, blowing across her own latte.

You blinked, snapping out of it. “I’m not. Not like that. I just…It’s nice. You look as nice as always. You look happier too?”

Mel quirked a brow, amused. “I’ve got a new Daddy, he’s so nice. Actually cute, too.”

You laughed at that, because she always said it so breezily, like it was just another line on her résumé.

Mel Medarda: Professional Sugar Baby of 5 years, references available on request, glowing reviews.

When the barista swung by with the cheque (because this place was fancy enough that you didn't have to pay up front) Mel waved you off when you reached inside your bag. “Oh no, sweetheart, this is on me,” she said. “New Daddy’s footing the bill. He’d be so upset I let you pay.”

You smiled and said ‘thank you’, but something in your chest twinged as she signed the receipt, even though you knew you couldn’t afford the drink anyway.

“Mel…” you started, watching her tuck the receipt away.

“Hmm?”

“How…How did you get into this?”

Her head tilted slightly. “Into…?”

“This,” you gestured at her designer coat, her perfect nails, the delicate gold decorating her wrist. “You know…Being a Baby. Or whatever you call it.”

That got you a full grin. She leant back in her chair, drumming her nails on her coffee cup in amusement. “Why so curious?”

You shifted uncomfortably. “I need money.”

Her face immediately sobered, sitting forward again.

“My rent’s due in three days and I'm more than half short. They're putting it up next month too, and I don’t have the new difference leftover each month. My account’s barely holding two figures as it is. Plus, my bills are almost overdue; the insurance company is gouging my pay for the medical bills, and the interest is constantly climbing…” You rubbed your temples, stressed tears starting to form in your eyes.

Her face softened. “Angel, I could help you-”

You shook your head firmly. “No. No, absolutely not. I’m not taking your money.”

“Well, how much do you need? I’m doing really well-”

You couldn’t help but scoff lightly. “Six figures, Mel. And I don’t just mean 100k.”

Her hands clenched around her mug. “Fuck cancer.”

“Well, I did,” you smiled. You toasted your cups together in celebration of the battle you fought for two years and ultimately won.

But it was time to finally swallow your pride.

“Things are just really bad right now and I don't know what else to do. Plus, I’ve always kind of wondered what it’s like. You make it look so…”

“Easy?” Mel supplied, laughing. “It is, most days. But it won’t be at the start,” she warned.

You sipped your cappuccino just to have something to do with your hands.

“Do you think,” you ventured, “Someone like me could even do it? I mean, I don’t have a designer wardrobe or whatever.”

Mel studied you for a moment, eyes a little sharper now. Then she shook her head with a low chuckle. “Oh, angel, being a Baby isn’t about already having all the pretty things. That’s what they’re for.”

She leant in across the table, her voice becoming warm and gentle as she held your hand. “I’ll help you. Show you the ropes, set up a profile for you, coach you through it.”

Your heart skipped a little. “I’m serious,” you said quietly. “I really need the money. I trust you.”

Mel grinned like the cat who caught the canary, reaching over to squeeze your hand. “You’re going to be just fine. Let’s finish our drinks and then go back to your place. We’ll get you started tonight.”

The door to your apartment stuck, like it always did, and you had to give it a little shove with your shoulder before it finally swung open.

“I always hated this place,” Mel groaned, stepping inside behind you and glancing around. “Why did we let you move in here?”

“Don’t,” you muttered, kicking your shoes off and placing them on the wobbly little shoe rack by the door. “It was all I could afford when I moved.”

She shook her head, looking at the cramped living room with its thrift store couch, second-hand rug with a hole in it, and one too-small window that barely let in any light. “We’re getting you out of here. Alright,” she said, setting her tote down on the coffee table, “Let's get to work.”

You sank into the couch and opened your laptop, as Mel sat elegantly beside you, already pulling out her phone and opening an app.

“Rule number one,” she started, holding it up like a teacher, “This isn’t a dating app. You are not here looking for a girlfriend, or a wife, or your soulmate. You are here to provide companionship and affection – and maybe more, if you’re comfortable – in exchange for being financially taken care of. Period. It’s okay to like the people, but do not get attached.”

You nodded, leaning in as she scrolled through an app.

On her screen was a slick, clean-looking interface with profiles. Every profile had photos, some with nothing but a name, others had a few teasing lines. You catch glimpses of headlines like “Looking to spoil someone special”, “Discreet arrangements only”, “Full sex services available”, and more than one bio that makes your ears burn.

Mel started showing you how it worked – how to set up your own bio, how much detail to give, what pictures are best to use, and how to keep your boundaries crystal clear from the start.

“So, to start off, you should include a close-up photo of your face; a full body shot; something a bit sexier but not too much; then – now, don’t freak out about this – your feet too.”

You gawked at her. “My feet?!”

She shrugged. “Feet is one of the most common kinks out there. I know Babies who only do feet content, and they’re loaded.”

“But I don’t want to do…Foot stuff,” you grimaced.

She raised an eyebrow. “What if someone offered you $100 just for a single photo?”

You paused, remembering the numbers on your debt spreadsheet. “Okay, feet too. Got it.”

Mel chuckled. “What’s your age limit? Realistically speaking. Not necessarily for full sugar, but what could you realistically be comfortable with chatting to, or going on dates with?”

“What’s yours?” you asked.

“I don’t have one. There are some lovely widowers out there who just want companionship. It might be worth leaving it quite high, but it’s up to you. Plus, you can also choose what you’re willing to provide based on age when you talk to people.”

You had to admit that was reasonable. Plus, you weren’t really in a position to be choosey. “Okay, no limit,” you adjusted the setting on your new profile.

“And – here’s the hard question – are you willing to include men?”

You couldn’t help but grimace.

“I know you’re a lesbian, sweetheart, but if you’ve got bills to pay and medical debt to work through, could you face sending some flirty messages to men if it earns you some spoils? Plus the majority of Sugars are men, you’d be cutting off a huge portion of potential benefactors.”

You pondered again, wringing your hands together. “Just messages?”

“Remember, you can always choose how you interact with each person individually,” Mel advised. “It’s your choice. But what if you come across a man wants to give you $50 a day for a sexy photo? You could always tell him that you won’t want to meet up in person.”

You weren’t happy about it, but you ticked all the boxes for sex and gender.

“Never say you’re ‘open to anything,’” she warned, clicking through a few examples. “Even the most confident, experienced Babies have limits; everyone has limits. Manage their expectations from the start. Next: be sweet, be charming, but also make sure they know that you know your worth. No desperation, no haggling, and always let them come to you. You’re doing them a favour by letting them take care of you. If you say a photo is $100, it’s $100; not 80, not 75. Do. Not. Haggle,” she said firmly, wagging her finger at you.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at that. “Got it. No hagglers.” You were quiet for a moment, watching her scroll and type as a message came through on her profile. Then, hesitantly, you asked, “How do you tell the real ones? You know, from the scammers and the creeps?”

Mel actually grinned at that, like she’d been waiting for you to ask.

“Good girl,” she said approvingly. “That’s rule number two. Trust your gut, and don’t believe anybody who promises big money right away. Someone offering 10k for your first date and another 10k every week after that? Not real. Real Mommies and Daddies don’t flash cash in the first message. They ask about you. They care about what you want. They respect your limits. Scammers, on the other hand?”

She snorted, flipping through her inbox and showing you a couple of examples: ridiculous promises of thousands a week just for texting, requests for bank info before even meeting, weird links they say you need to click in order to get paid.

“Block. Block. Block,” she said with a tap of her manicured finger. “Anybody who pressures you to move off the app too soon? Block. Anybody who can’t spell ‘allowance’? Block. Anyone who complains about the vetting process? Block. Remember: the good ones want to be vetted. It shows them you’re being safe.”

You couldn’t help but smile a little at her attitude: sharp and sure, like she’d done this a hundred times.

Mel noticed your look and smirked. “What?”

“Nothing,” you said softly. “You’re just really good at this.”

“Damn right I am.”

She pointed to your laptop and nodded at the empty profile. “Alright, sweetheart. Time to write your bio. Start with something sweet: one or two lines about you, what you’re looking for, and what you want in return. Be honest but keep it classy.”

Mel helped you write your bio and choose pics from your gallery – though you did have to take a fresh feet pic, cringing the whole time. By the time Mel finished tinkering with your profile, you were already emotionally exhausted.

“See?” she purred, nudging your shoulder with hers as you sat side by side on your sagging couch. “That’s a good start. Sweet, just a little flirty, and clear about your boundaries.”

You swallowed, rereading the words she helped you craft.

Looking for someone who knows how to take care of what’s theirs. I’m attentive, affectionate, and eager to please. Not looking for one-night stands. Photos/videos/voice notes available for tips. Open to discussing arrangement details once vetted.

Mel winked at you as you hit “Publish” on your profile and grinned at the little blue tick that came up next to your name once the system finished checking your details. She got up and poured the two of you a rum and cola – both ingredients the cheapest the store offered – to celebrate.

And then, not five minutes later, the first messages started coming in.

She stayed with you for another couple of hours, lounging with her legs curled up under her, one perfectly manicured finger flicking at your screen now and then to help you compose polite declines or playful replies.

hi bb u like cashapp? – Block.

Can I send you pics? – Block.

I wanna own u – Block and report.

But there were a few nicer ones – men and women who seemed polite enough, who asked how your day was going and didn’t jump straight to nudes or numbers. Mel made you save a few of them to look at later, and for a little while, sitting there next to her, you even felt a little excited.

When Mel’s phone buzzed with a sharp little chime, her expression shifted into something sly. “That’s my cue,” she said, gathering up her coat. “New Daddy’s taking me out tonight. Are you going to be okay? I’ll call you later when I get home.”

You nodded automatically, though the pit in your stomach was already forming as you watched her leave.

“You’ve got this, sweetheart,” she said at the door, hugging you tightly and kissing your forehead. “Just remember what I told you. Don’t do anything you’re not comfortable with, and don’t you dare settle for less than you deserve.”

And then she was gone.

The quiet in your apartment felt loud after that.

You curled up on the couch with your phone and tried to keep up the same energy Mel had drilled into you – polite, charming, firm – but after the first few hours on your own, it all started to wear you down.

So many of the messages were gross. Or pushy. Or straight-up insulting.

You should be grateful for whatever I give you

girls like u don’t get to make demands

Send pics now or I’m blocking

Come over tonight and I’ll test drive you

You blocked. And blocked. And blocked again. But each one chipped away at you just a little more.

And before long, your eyes were stinging, your throat tight, your stomach rolling.

For the first time you let yourself wonder what your parents would say. Not that they’d spoken to you in years. You couldn’t think about them. You couldn’t let the guilt and shame settle in and fester. You didn’t deserve that.

You looked back to your laptop again. Messages kept pouring in.

A new one blinked at the top: Baby, you’ve gone quiet. Can I spoil you a little more?

You stared at the words for a long time, fingers hovering over the keys. Your cheeks burned, but your bank account was growing, and your rent was due.

So, you took a breath. And you typed back:

Yes please, Daddy

The next morning brought more messages.

You woke up to the little notification bubble glowing on your phone screen – 48 new messages overnight, some payments made to your new cash app account that Mel had told you was safe for Babies to use.

You read through all the messages, your mood already feeling conflicted.

Most of them were basically the same thing: Good morning, gorgeous. Did you sleep well? Hope you have a good day. I sent you $20, did you get it?

Which was nice. But then you got the others:

What would it cost to see that body without the dress?

How much for a quick video of you moaning my name?

Why don’t you show me those tits and I’ll send you something

Some of the spoils in your account were for small requests - $10 for a video of you brushing your teeth. $30 for your skincare and makeup routine. $10 for a little ‘outfit of the day moment’. All of those you fulfilled as you got ready for work.

On the bus to work you scrolled through the rest of them, trying to keep your face neutral despite the stranger sitting beside you who definitely glimpsed over at your inbox.

You started typing out polite no’s, or simply blocking the ones that made your stomach twist.

By your lunch break, you already felt frayed.

One man had offered $100 if you filmed yourself ‘doing something fun’ with a pillow between your thighs.

You didn’t want to reply to that one. But you had bills to pay, so you messaged back with some clarifying questions – how long did he want the video? What did he want in it? What exactly was he looking for?

Your coworkers chatted around you at lunch while you anxiously picked at your crappy sandwich of cheap bread and even cheaper jam, trying to shake the hot embarrassment off your skin.

When you finally got home that evening, the weight of the day hit you all at once. You dropped your purse on the couch, sat down at your little kitchen table, and buried your face in your hands.

The screen of your phone lit up again and again as you left it face-down on the table, little dings marking incoming requests, compliments, and demands.

You felt dirty. And tired. And angry with yourself for feeling dirty, when you knew this was exactly what you’d signed up for.

Your phone buzzed again, and you forced yourself to flip it over. Another message:

Princess, you there? Don’t leave me hanging. I already sent you the money. You owe me.

Your chest tightened at that word. Owe.

You shoved the phone away and leaned back in your chair.

You were glad Mel couldn’t see you now, sitting in her your apartment, blinking back tears, feeling smaller than ever.

You whispered to yourself, “You need the money. You can do it.”

But even then, you weren’t sure you believed it.

You stood under the spray of hot water far longer than you needed to.

The steam clung to the cracked mirror, the air thick and wet, and still you lingered, scrubbing your arms, your neck, your chest like you could somehow wash off everyone else’s words.

You felt gross. Not so much for what you’d actually done – a few tame photos of your neck and feet; a breathy little voice note moaning someone’s name; one leg shot that you’d agonized over before finally snapping it and sending it. That wasn’t so bad, you told yourself. It was more how fast people demanded, and how entitled they sounded, and how you found yourself agreeing just to get the money.

Because you needed the money.

Halfway through rinsing your hair, your phone buzzed on the sink. Again.

You leant out of the shower to glance at the screen, water dripping from your elbows. Three more payments had come through. You sighed.

When you finally stepped out and wrapped yourself in a towel, your inbox was a mess again, dozens of new messages blinking at you.

Did you get my last request??

Don’t make me wait, girl

Show me something real this time, not just a tease.

I’ll double it if you send me something dirtier.

The words made your stomach tighten, and you put the phone down again to finish getting dressed into your softest, cosiest pyjamas.

You sat cross-legged on the couch, hair still damp against your shoulders, trying not to cry. Your fingers hesitated over the screen for a long time before you finally opened your inbox again.

Taglist: @sevikas-whore, @djstinkyfartz, @jinririz, @abbyandcaitlover, @ayuxiru, @bebeluvvv, @youdoyou-andiwilldome, @kittymrtnezz69, @wyprettylilone, @jlb20416, @autisticratbagtm, @theoreticalfreak, @riotstemple29, @zaunite-516, @zmbieeee, @godhatesgoodgirls, @yoyo-w, @milanyas, @unknownomgg, @bella-but-not-hadid444, @marvelwomenarehot0, @nenoino, @opalundercover, @beggingonmykneesforher, @qlelwow, @loneliestafterparty, @flowersareup, @niceminipotato, @fruitfulfashion, @dut1fuldyk3, @youngtastemakerfart, @trinityobsessesovatings, @barmaideneeveewrites, @c1sne, @geminideathrose, @nuianced-tck-enby, @all-things-lilac, @m0ss-gremlin

[miange1]

～LITTLE IN THE MIDDLE♪⁠～

owners dish: sugar daddy x bratty(spoiled) male reader

side dish: untold love for one another, spoiled and bratty themes, patois(translations at the end), all my oc's got big dicks, d/s relationship, spanking, brat taming, size kinks, rough sex, age gaps, daddy kinks, he can't use a phone, reader is a virgin

owners note: got this idea from a janitor ai bot except the bot was white. i never proofread. this is a little longer than my usual fics

sugar daddy, who had met you through some cheap tech job you worked at. he couldn't figure out this thing that had been happening to his phone, it was slow and it was becoming an annoying issue for him. while you were helping him, he had been looking at you the entire time. barely listening. he left with his phone still being slow. it was alright, he could just get a new one

sugar daddy, constantly visited you. he wouldn't want to call himself a stalker, just someone who would talk and visit you frequently where you worked until he'd just slide himself into your life. he didn't want to manipulate or take advantage of you, but once he found out you weren't entirely financially stable..well, take an opportunity if it's given to you.

sugar daddy, who would give you an offer. an offer of buying you whatever you'd like in exchange for pleasures he couldn't get himself to feel any longer all on his own. he almost cackled seeing the look on your face. "like..a sugar daddy?" were you two even that close? "mh..yah eff dat a o yu waah fi put ih, den fine. sugar daddy." surprising to you, and not so surprising to him, you accepted. hell..you needed the money, you were gonna get evicted from your apartment that didn't deserve the amount of rent it gave. plus, he was attractive. win-win.

sugar daddy, who could practically feel your nervousness even before he'd touch you. you'd ask if you were allowed to get things, ask if you could do this and that with the money he was throwing at you. he'd assure you to pick what you wanted, he had billions all for you. just for you. you'd pay him back anyways, no need for you to worry.

sugar daddy, who lived off of how nervous you got. put some use to yourself, let loose! you're real rich now. "wah yuh tense from? cum yah." he had been manspreading at the edge of the bed, his two fingers extended and curled for you to come here. those golden rings glinted in the light and it seemed to drag you towards it all. you didn't know what you were supposed to do, you weren't sexually active like that.

sugar daddy, tried his best to be soft and gentle with you. tried to talk you through it sweetly, touches light, but each mewl and moan got to him. each little movement of sensitivity was driving him crazy. "fuck..yuh wa mi fi be gentle but den yuh act dis way wid me?" he flipped your pretty self over, his squeezing your thighs and forcing them open. he'd lick his lips seeing how much you were leaning, your tip sensitive and swollen and your cock twitching just from him looking at it. "yet yuh bady all tight an perfect fi mi, mi cyaa resist.'"

sugar daddy, who made you feel like there was a weight in your stomach had you arching and rolling that little body all into his, trying to morph yourself deeper into the feeling like his dick penetrating you with overly harsh thrusts wasn't enough. when he would lean down his beard would tickle your skin, his hand touching your stomach with the only intention being to press at the hard outline of his cock at your tummy. he loved it, ate it up. "i–its too big, i can't!" he'd only tsk and shake his head, "nuh run from dis, yuh taking daadie nice an well." little bit of encouragement.

sugar daddy who'd watch you get all bratty from time to time. get demanding, acting like some spoiled brat now that you had what you wanted. but shit, this was like heaven to him. he'd see you all dolled up, one extend of your hand told him all he needed and a wad of cash would be slapped into your palm. but sometimes you needed to be put in check, needed to learn that your place wasn't to be in control like you thought that you were.

sugar daddy who laughed and smiled when you were squirming and whining on his lap your ass bruised a different shade and a clear pinch mark from his rings. "oh nuh be all whiny like a baby, tek yuh punishment like a gud bowy fi daadie," but you couldn't do it, even when you knew what happens when you got all full of yourself. "ow–!" you'd help and complain, but knowing this would leave a mark from him is what truly had you going.

sugar daddy, was aware this was a little more than a sugar daddy and sugar baby relationship, and you knew it too. but for now, you'd enjoy what the two of you currently had.

translations:

mh..yah eff dat a o yu waah fi put ih, den fine. sugar daddy: mh, yeah. if that's how you want to put it, then fine. sugar daddy.

wah yuh tense from? cum yah: what are you tense from? come here.

fuck..yuh wa mi fi be gentle but den yuh act dis way wid me?: fuck..you want me to be gentle but then act this way with me?

yet yuh bady all tight an perfect fi mi, mi cyaa resist: yet your body all tight and perfect for me. i can't resist.

nuh run from dis, yuh taking daadie nice an well: don't run from this, you're taking daddy nice and well

oh nuh be all whiny like a baby, tek yuh punishment like a gud bowy fi daadie: oh don't be all whiny like a baby, take your punishment like a good boy for daddy.