#it would work and it did work for the old you though!!! go back /silly

[gf2bellamy]

not to break your heart and make you sad but how do you think dad spencer wouldve coped in prison away from his kid(s)

girldad!spencer strikes again.

spencer would not cope well in prison. at all.

his mind would be consumed by thoughts of his daughter. the idea of missing out on her life, of leaving you to raise her alone, would eat at him constantly.

he’d feel physically ill, every time he remembered he wasn’t there to tuck her in at night.

when you visited, you’d bring him drawings she made for him. he’d try so hard to keep it together, but the second you handed them to him, his breath would hitch. he’d hang them up in his cell, but every time he looked at them, his eyes would burn.

they were his only comfort, yet they also reminded him of everything he was missing.

you’d never bring her to see him in prison, and he’d never ask you to. the thought of her seeing him behind glass, in a jumpsuit, surrounded by guards, it would destroy him.

he’d rather she remember him as the man, the one who carried her on his shoulders and read her stories, not like this.

at home, she’d ask about him. "where’s daddy?" 

you’d kneel down, brushing her hair back, forcing a smile. "he’s just working, honey. he’ll be back soon."

sometimes, you’d buy her a new toy or book and say it was from him, just so she wouldn’t forget how much he loved her.

he’d write her letters, pages and pages of them. filled with bedtime stories, silly jokes, and promises of all the things they’d do when he got home. when you read them to her, she’d giggle, hugging the paper like it was him. and when you visited spencer, you’d recount every detail, how her face lit up and how happy she was.

the worst moments were the quiet ones.

lying on his bunk, staring at the ceiling, wondering if she was crying, if she was scared, if she even remembered his voice. he’d press his hands over his face, shoulders shaking, because the guilt was suffocating.

he keeps track of her age down to the hour. he knows exactly how old she is at any given moment.

“4 years, 7 months, and 6 days,” he’ll murmur to himself like a mantra, over and over.

he re-reads her letters and drawings until the pages are worn. he knows every scribble, every crooked heart by memory. sometimes he traces the lines with his fingertip, pretending her tiny hand is in his.

he dreams about her constantly. sometimes it’s her running into his arms in the backyard. sometimes it’s a nightmare, her calling out for him and he can’t reach her.

he tries to teach her through his letters. little lessons disguised as stories: "did you know butterflies taste with their feet?"

he wants her to always feel like he’s still guiding her, even from far away.

he imagines your life at home constantly. he pictures you making her breakfast, tying her shoes, buying her new dresses. he imagines you brushing her hair the way he used to, and he can’t decide if it makes him feel better or worse.

he feels crushing guilt. even though it wasn’t his fault. even though you tell him every visit: “you did nothing wrong.”

he still blames himself. for leaving you to do everything alone. for leaving his daugher to grow up without a dad. even if it was just for 3 months.

you’re his anchor. your voice. your smile during visits. the way you tell him stories, “she made a new friend at school.” the way you never stop believing in him. he’d fall apart completely without you.

he can’t let go of the image of her the day before he was taken away. whatever she was wearing, whatever she said. he plays that day over and over. he didn’t know it would be the last time he tucked her in for who knows how long. if he had, he would’ve held her longer.

he swears he’ll make it up to both of you one day. he doesn’t know how, or when, but in his mind, he builds a future where you’re together again.

[bitterballad]

the roommate agreement.

━━━ © bitterballad

PLOT! You and Eren were assigned to be roommates in a co-ed dorm. Your opposing lifestyles lead to some amusing clashes, but over time the two of you find a way to co-exist with one another. That comfortable rhythm turns into something more once someone flirts with you at a party.

WARNINGS! modern!au. college!au. slight praise kink i think... overstimulation, PROTECTED sex (always wrap before you tap)

NOTES! hiiiii eren is silly in this fic bc i said so. i also made him a sports medicine major bc i wanted to. word count is 4.3k. enjoy!

You were going to kill your roommate. It's six in the morning, you fell asleep maybe three hours ago, and he's awake rummaging around his side of the dorm. He does this everyday: up early, headphones in listening to god knows what, and waking you up with his antics.

"Where is it?" He muttered to himself. His words were too loud for your liking, though most would say his everything is too much for your liking.

You press a hand to the bridge of your nose, pinching it lightly. "What the hell are you doing?" You asked, voice groggy.

Erens head shot up, looking at you for a second before he goes back to rummaging. "I can't find my other sneaker."

"So?" You counter.

"I need it to run."

"Run barefoot for all I care. Just be quiet." You groan, wanting this conversation to be over with so you can go back to your lovely dream. 

He huffs at your words. "I am being quiet."

"Be quieter!" You pleaded. Whether it was with him or god, you didn’t know.

He gave you a tight-lipped smile, and went back to his previous actions. He attempted to be quieter, but that just wasn’t enough. You tossed and turned, trying to find a spot on your twin sized bed that was farthest away from his noise. Obviously, that didn’t work.

It’s times like these you regret accepting the co-ed dorm. Sure, none of the other dorms had room, and this one was way cheaper. But you would take expensive girls over Eren.

This noise will never end. You knew it at the bottom of your heart. So instead of wasting time trying to fall asleep and failing, you sat up in your bed, got one of the books laying face down next to your legs, and began studying. Your computer was already open from last night, and you had highlighters and pens littered across the blanket. 

“If you must break the law, do it to seize power: in all other cases observe it.” You mumble, eyes scanning through the words on the page, barely comprehending this. Why the fuck did you choose Pre-Law?

Eren’s head shot up. “What are you doing?” He asked you, eyes and voice full of curiosity. This is the first time he’s seen you like this. He usually witnesses you study at your desk for a brief moment before his Physiology class. Other than that, it’s passing moments. This time, he’s taking you in, analyzing everything about you.

“Studying. I have a test tomorrow and I can’t sleep.”

Your eyes had already diverted back to your computer, but he stayed trained on you. As he slipped his shoe on (yes, he found it) he noticed the bags under your puffy eyes. Was this his fault? 

Guilt flashed in front of him and coursed through his veins. Of course this was his fault. He’s a loud 20 year old boy. He should have some manners when living with a girl.

Digging through his nightstand, he placed a bottle of something on your desk before heading out.

The bright rays of the laptop burned your eyes. With each scan of a sentence your eyes itched more. You sucked in a large breath before slamming the laptop shut, groaning with a mix of annoyance and crankiness.

Your eyes dart to the nightstand, landing on a small, purple bottle of melatonin gummies.

A smile graces your lips.

You pop two gummies into your mouth and lean back against your headboard, letting the artificial strawberry taste settle on your tongue.

He's already gone, the door shut behind him a few minutes ago, but the echo of his presence lingers. You stare at the door for a moment longer than you mean to, the corners of your mouth twitching.

Stupid, thoughtful bastard.

The next few weeks fall into a strange rhythm. Eren still wakes up too early. You still stay up too late. But now, he leaves you small peace offerings—sometimes it’s melatonin, other times it’s an extra protein bar tossed onto your desk without a word. You never say thank you out loud, and he never asks for one.

Instead, you start leaving the window open before you sleep because you know he likes the fresh air after a run.

You catch him glancing at you more often. Not the usual up-and-down guys do when they’re checking you out, but the kind that lingers like he’s trying to read something written on your face. You pretend not to notice. You’re both pretending.

Then one night, it changes.

You come back to the dorm earlier than usual, slumping in with your bag dragging behind you. You’re exhausted, your notes are a mess, and your brain feels like overcooked pasta. You don't even bother turning on the light.

You expect to be alone.

Instead, Eren’s sitting cross-legged on his bed, headphones in, scribbling something in a notebook. When he sees you, he pulls the buds out. “Hey.”

You grunt a tired hello.

He watches you toe off your shoes and collapse face-first onto your bed. “Rough day?”

You answer with a muffled noise into your pillow.

There’s a pause. Then: “Wanna talk about it?”

You lift your head just enough to glare at him. “Since when do you ask if I want to talk about things?”

“Since I got tired of you pretending you’re fine when you’re obviously not.”

You blink.

He shrugs, trying to play it cool, but you catch the way his fingers twitch in his lap, the way his jaw clenches like he regrets speaking.

You sigh. “Law is eating me alive. I have two midterms, a paper, and a TA who literally sighs every time I open my mouth.”

“Want me to kill them?” he asks casually. Too casually. Maybe you’re living with a serial killer.

You snort and ignore the thought. “Yeah. Bury the body in the woods behind the gym. No one would find it.”

He grins, and just like that, the weight in your chest lifts a little.

You sit up slowly, rubbing your temples. “You’re not…bad at this, you know.”

“At what?”

You hesitate. “Being…someone I can count on.”

That gets him. He freezes for half a second before he looks away, color blooming on his cheeks. “Don’t get used to it,” he mutters. “I’m still a pain in the ass.”

You smile tiredly. “Yeah. But you’re my pain in the ass.”

The words hang in the air like a held breath.

He looks at you then, really looks at you. The light from his desk lamp casts shadows along his jaw, his cheekbones, and something softer in his eyes.

That moment doesn’t end. Not really. It stretches over the next few days like a string pulled too tight—neither of you breaking it, but neither of you acknowledging it either.

You tiptoe around it, side-stepping the way Eren starts waiting up for you after your late-night study sessions, the way he always asks if you’ve eaten, the way he starts playing music you like when you're both in the room.

And you? You stop wearing headphones when he's around. You start taking his hoodie off the chair and wearing it when your laundry’s overdue. You don’t mention it. He doesn’t either.

You're both cowards, really.

One night, you’re both in the room, coexisting in your usual not-quite-comfortable silence. You’re curled at your desk, typing up a paper with a half-empty cup of tea going cold. He’s lying back on his bed, his sketchbook balanced on his knee.

It’s been an hour since either of you spoke.

Then he says, out of nowhere, “Do you think we would’ve been friends if we weren’t roommates?”

You look up from your screen. “What?”

He shrugs, still not looking at you. “Just wondering. You kind of hated me at first.”

“I still kind of hate you.”

He grins. “Yeah, but now you make it sound cute.”

You toss a pen at him. It bounces off his forehead. “Asshole.”

He tosses it back. “So? Would we have?”

You pause. He’s being serious. It’s in the way he fiddles with the spiral of the notebook, the way his gaze is fixed on the ceiling like he’s afraid of what your answer might be. You don’t want to lie. “I don’t know,” you say honestly. “I don’t usually let people like you get close.”

“People like me?”

“Loud. Relentless. Hot.”

He turns his head toward you so fast he nearly gives himself whiplash. “You think I’m hot?”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t take it back. You go back to typing instead, as if you didn’t just drop a hand grenade into the center of your shared space.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, and you try not to squirm under the weight of it.

Then he says, soft enough that it’s almost a whisper, “I wouldn’t have minded chasing you a little.” Your fingers pause on the keys. He clears his throat, pretending to be more casual than he is. “You know. If we hadn’t been roommates. If I’d met you in class or something.”

Your chest tightens. You don’t know what to do with that kind of honesty. So instead, you do what you do best: pretend. “I would’ve ignored you completely,” you say without looking up. “Blocked you on all platforms. Reported you to campus security.”

“I’d find a way.”

He says it like a promise.

The next weekend, Jean invites you both to a party off-campus.

You don’t want to go. Parties aren’t your scene, and the idea of standing around in a too-small apartment trying to shout over music while nursing a warm drink sounds like the seventh circle of hell.

But Eren gives you that look—wide eyes, raised brows, that barely-suppressed grin that says I dare you—and suddenly you’re digging out a clean pair of jeans and brushing your hair like it’s a real event.

When you step out of the bathroom, he’s leaning against the doorframe waiting for you, and the way his gaze flicks up and down your frame is not subtle.

You roll your eyes. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says, biting back a smirk. “You clean up okay.”

“You’ve seen me with crusty eye bags and ramen breath. Don’t pretend I’m suddenly cute.”

“You’ve always been cute,” he says, not missing a beat.

You open your mouth to fire something back, but nothing comes out. He walks ahead of you before you can figure out what to say.

The party is a blur of noise, cheap vodka, and body heat.

Jean’s apartment is packed with people you vaguely recognize from lecture halls and campus cafés. You get separated from Eren almost immediately, and you don’t panic—but you also don’t stop glancing around for him every few minutes.

You’re standing near the kitchen when a guy approaches you. He’s tall, grinning like he’s used to getting what he wants, and he leans in close when he talks. Too close.

You’re trying to politely brush him off when you feel a warm hand slip around your waist.

“There you are,” Eren says, voice too casual. “Been looking for you.” The guy backs off immediately, muttering something under his breath as he disappears into the crowd. Eren doesn’t remove his hand. You don’t ask him to.

“Thanks,” you say quietly.

He looks down at you. “You okay?”

You nod, then gesture to the living room. “Wanna get out of here?”

He doesn’t hesitate.

Back in the dorm, there’s a quiet that settles between you. Not awkward—just…waiting. You sit on your bed, shoes still on, and watch him toss his jacket onto the desk chair. “I’m sorry,” he says suddenly.

You frown. “For what?”

“For dragging you there. Should’ve known you’d hate it.”

“I didn’t hate it,” you lie. Then you sigh. “Okay, maybe I did. But it wasn’t your fault. That guy was a dick.”

His jaw tightens. “You sure he didn’t touch you or—?”

“He didn’t,” you say firmly. “You got there just in time.”

He exhales through his nose, the tension leaving his shoulders.

“Eren,” you say softly. “Why do you care so much?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he walks over, slow, careful, like he’s approaching a wild animal. He stops when he’s standing in front of you, close enough that you can smell the faint citrus of his cologne.

“I don’t know when it happened,” he says, voice low. “But somewhere between you hating my guts and stealing my hoodies…I started thinking about you all the time.”

You swallow.

He takes a step closer. “It’s stupid. We’re roommates. It’s messy. But I can’t stop.”

Your heartbeat is deafening in your ears. You whisper, “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I think I’m already in too deep. And if you don’t stop me now, I’m gonna kiss you.”

You stare at him. Then you lean forward.

Your lips slot into his like puzzle pieces. It's messy, anxiety inducing, and above all it's addictive. He’s addictive. Eren Jaeger is your own personal brand of heroin, and fuck you were feining for a syringe. 

His lips go from yours, to your cheek, jaw, and then trail down your neck. Your breath is heavy and your mind is blank. All you can think of is Eren. 

“You good?” He mumbles, lips still on your neck. “Got all quiet.”

You blink, and the words come out breathless. “I’m good.” Hands meet his brown hair, gently pulling him away from your neck. It’s ironic, considering you don’t want him to stop. Regardless of what you want, he goes back to your lips, humming as you happily accept it. 

The pain in your legs must be mirrored in his, cause he quickly pulls you onto his bed, sitting you on his lap and letting his hands rest just above your hips 

His hands flex against your waist, thumbs pressing into the space between your ribs and hips like he’s trying to ground himself. Almost as if hes trying to prove that you’re actually here, straddling him, kissing him like you’re a starved woman.

And maybe you are. Maybe you’ve been hungry for this, for him, for longer than you would like to admit.

Your fingers stay tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan into your mouth, He’s warm beneath you, heat radiating from every inch of him, and when your hips shift forward without thinking, the sound he makes nearly breaks you.

It’s anything but holy, but you would worship it if given the chance.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, voice low, gravelly. “You can’t do that unless you want me to lose my mind.” You do it again anyway, hips rolling slow, just to feel the way his breath stutters. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his pupils blown wide, cheat heaving. “You’re not playing fair.”

You smirk, eyes hooded. “Wasn’t aware this was a game.”

Eren leans forward, mouth ghosting the shell of your ear. “Then I’ll make some rules.”

And just like that, you’re on your back, his hands splayed on either side of your head, his lips crashing into yours again like he can’t stand the space between you. It’s less polished now, more desperate. Tongues, teeth, the slow drag of your bodies pressed together as the kiss turns hungrier than before.

His hand slides up beneath your shirt, fingers grazing over your stomach, hesitant. He breaks the kiss long enough to search your face. “Tell me if you want to stop.”

“I don’t,” You whisper, breath catching.

That’s all it takes.

He kisses down your collarbone, slow and reverent, while his hands explore the shape of you like a map he’s memorized in dreams. You arch into him, and he exhales a shaky breath against your skin. 

“Been thinking about this,” He confesses into your shoulder, voice wrecked. “About you. For months.”

Your hands trail down his back, nails dragging lightly along his spine. “Then stop thinking.”

He shivers at the contact and then looks up at you, eyes burning. “Yeah?”

You nod, pulling him back down with a kiss that’s all heat and need. His mouth is on yours before you can even catch your breath. His hands roam, bold and greedy, as they explore the new skin he’s been denied for too long. You’re gasping into his mouth as his fingers tail up your ribs, brushing the edge of your bra.

“Can I?” He asks, voice rasped against your lips.

“Yes.” You breathe it like a secret.

He makes quick work of the clasp, calloused fingers surprisingly gentle, and you feel the fabric slip off your shoulders. The moment your chest is bare, he pauses, only for a moment, to take you in.

“Jesus,” He murmurs, more to himself than to you. “You’re so fucking pretty.”

You feel heat rise to your face, but before you can say anything, his mouth is on you. Hot. Wet. Slow. He kisses down one breast while his hand kneads the other, and the contrast of the warmth and pressure sends sparks racing down your spine.

You arch up, hips grinding against his thigh for friction, and he groans. It’s low and rough and into your skin, and the sound of it makes you want more.

“Eren,” You whisper, nails digging into the back of his shoulders. A silent plea.

He pulls back, lips swollen and glossy, eyes almost as dark as sin. “Yeah, baby?”

The pet name knocks something loose in you. Your hips roll again, this time with more purpose, and you feel the harm press of him between your thighs. “You have too many clothes on.” You pant, tugging at his waistband. 

“I’m working on it,” He chuckles, breathless. “I was a little preoccupied.”

You help him kick off his sweats and boxers in a messy tangle, your underwear and his shirt discarded somewhere along the way. Then you’re both bare, skin to skin, nothing in between. Suddenly the air shifts, the tension isn’t playful anymore. It’s charged. Heavy.

He leans over you, one hand braces beside your head, the other sliding down your thigh. His fingers dipped between your legs, and when he finds how soaked you are, his breath stutters hard. 

“Shit. You’re-”

“Don’t say it,” You gasp, already writhing from the way his fingers are teasing you. “Just, please, Eren.”

He doesn’t make you beg.

Two fingers slip inside you, slow and deep, curling just right as his thumb circles your clit. Your back arches off the bed and a broken moan escapes your lips.

“God, look at you,” He whispers, kissing your cheek, your jaw, your throat. “So fucking perfect like this. Falling apart.”

Your hands grab at him blindly. His hair, his arms, anything to anchor you as his fingers pump into you with a steady pace. It’s filthy and deliberate and you love it. He watches every twitch of your body, every gasp that tumbles from your lips, almost like he’s memorizing this.

When you’re trembling beneath him, thighs shaking, he withdraws his fingers. A whine escapes you, but he ignores it. “You ready?” He asks, voice hoarse. 

You nod, unable to form words at the moment.

He fumbles for a condom in the drawer, tears it open, and rolls it on. Then he’s between your legs again, hand guiding himself to your entrance, and he pauses just long enough to meet your eyes. “Last chance” He murmurs.

“Please.”

That’s all he needs.

He pushes in slowly, inch by inch, until he bottoms out. Still, it’s not enough, Not for him, not for you. He gorans low in your ear as you clamp around him, your body greedy.

“Fuck. You feel so fucking good,” He grits, pulling out halfway before snapping his hips forward again, harder. “I knew you’d be like this.”

A gasp escapes you, nails digging into his shoulders once more. He sets a pace that's deliberately slow, but deep. Every thrust knocks the air out of you. His hips grind against your clit with every stroke, sending jolts of pleasure sparking through your core.

“So well. Takin’ it so well.” He mumbles, dragging his teeth along your neck. “Didn’t think you’d let me fuck you like this.’

You let out a broken moan. “Didn’t think—fuck—didn’t think I needed this.”

He groans against your skin. “You do need this. I can feel how badly you need it. Just look at you.” He adjusts his angle slightly and drives into you harder, You arch, legs wrapping around his waist instinctively.

“Eren!”

His hand comes down to grab your thigh, spreading you wider. “Right there? Tell me.”

“Please. Right there, don’t stop—”

“I’m not stopping,” He says, panting now, sweat slicking his brow. “Not even close.”

You come hard, harder than you expected, the orgasm pulling a cry from your throat and a shudder through your whole body.

But Eren doesn’t let up.

While you’re still trembling, oversensitive and wrecked, he slows only for a moment, just long enough to kiss your cheek. “You’ve got another one in you. I know you do.”

You blink up at him, dazed. You open your lips to protest but all that comes out is a soft moan. He doesn’t give you time to protest

His hand slides between your bodies, thumb circling your clit again with cruel precision. “C’mon. Let me see you fall apart again.”

You’re already on the edge. He picks up the pace, rougher this time. The drag of his cock against your still-sensitive walls makes you cry out, hips twitching as your body fights between escape and need.

“Too much?” He mumbles against your ear, but the way he keeps fucking into you say thats he knows the answer. You shake your head, biting your lip to keep from screaming. “Then take it.”

Your second orgasm crashes into you like a wave, this one messier, tears welling in your eyes as your body convulses around him. You sob his name, legs shaking around him like a vise.

“Fuck—baby—gonna come.” He pants, losing rhythm. “You’re unreal.”

He groans your name like a prayer as he thrusts deep, hips stuttering. He comes with a grunt, burying himself in you to the hilt as you both shake.

But even then—even then—he doesn’t pull out. Instead, he kisses you, slow and dizzying, letting your breathing sync.

Then you feel his hand trail down your stomach again.

You flinch. “Eren—”

“Please,” He whispers, almost begging. “Wanna see you fall apart one more time.” Your hips lift to meet his touch. He kisses the corner of your mouth, then lower. Your neck, your check—as his fingers slide back between your legs. “You can take it. You’ve been so good. Please.”

You cry out as his fingers circle your clit again, slick from both of you. The stimulation is brutal, your nerves frayed, thighs trembling.

But God, the way he watches you—like you’re his favorite thing in the world, like you’re his to break and rebuild—it keeps you from wanting to stop. He slips two fingers inside and curls them just right, and this time, when you come, it’s with a full-body quake. Your vision whites out. Your voice breaks. Your hands fist the sheets like they’re the only thing keeping you grounded.

And Eren?

Eren looks at you like he just saw a god.

Your body is limp against the mattress, chest heaving, skin flushed and slick with sweat. Every inch of you aches in the best possible way. Eren’s hovering over you, barely holding himself up on trembling arms. His hair is a damp, wild mess that falls into his eyes. He looks completely ruined. Like he gave you everything he had. And somehow, he still smiles.

“Holy shit,” He says first, breathless. “You good?”

You huff a laugh, dazed. “I’m not sure I exist anymore.”

Eren chuckles and collapses beside you, flopping dramatically on his back. “You absolutely exist. You just don’t have bones right now.”

You roll your head toward him, barely able to lift an arm. “Didn’t know you had that in you.”

He shoots you a smug, sideways grin. “I’ve been holding back.”

You raise a brow. “That was you holding back?”

“I didn’t even tie you up.” He shrugs, trying to sound casual, but clearly holding back laughter.

“Yet.”

That gets him. His gaze snaps to yours, and there’s a flicker of something. Anticipation, amusement, and a little fear. “Hold on. That sounded like a threat.”

You turn your body toward him just enough to poke a finger into his bare chest. “You ever pull that ‘just one more’ thing again without warning me, and I will be the one in charge next time.”

Eren grins. “Is that supposed to scare me?”

You blink at him, deadpan. “You should be terrified.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then he throws an arm over his eyes and groans. “I’m so into it, it’s disgusting.” He says embarrassed. 

You both laugh, soft and breathless, wrapped in the aftermath of everything you just did and everything that might come next. The silence that follows isn’t awkward. It’s warm. Comfortable.

He rolls onto his side, propping his head up on his hand, watching you like you’re still a little unreal. Then, quieter: “You’re staying here tonight, right?”

You give him a look. “Eren. This is our room.”

He blinks. “Oh. Right.” A pause. “Still felt like I should ask.”

You smile, slow and fond. “Of course I’m staying.”

“Good,” He says, tugging the blanket over the both of you. “But I’m sleeping in your bed tonight. It smells nicer.” He doesn’t make good on his word, pulling you into him instead. 

A chuckle comes out. “Try it and I’ll smother you with your own hoodie.”

He grins like he’s never been more in love with someone in his life. And as the two of you sink into the covers, tangled, sore, and completely satisfied, neither of you bother pretending anymore.

tag list: @ickbite @halfwayhearted @pedriache

[o-i-w-u]

i feel like we've lost the whole eclipse coming back different and wrong thing here. like yeah hes the same guy but also.... not really? his memories aren't his, he is not that eclipse anymore, and he never was really

iirc a lot of eclipse's redemption arc was about the fact that he wasn't really the eclipse that did all of those awful things, he was just based off of him. like yeah hes still an awful person and he sucks but they're not really the same awful person that did all those horrible things to you.

he acts like he lived through those things and its his fault, but he... didn't and its not??? i dunno man it feels like we're back tracking here and not in a good way

(more ramble silly stuff in tags wowie)

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine being Caleb's non-mc significant other. part3

Imagine the way Caleb stopped sleeping in beds. It was too soft. Too still. Too big. He found himself on floor, against the walls or sometimes on an old couch with springs that dug into his spine. He stopped drawing the curtains. He didn't want the dark anymore neither did he want the light either. He just wanted nothing. In the morning, if he could still call them that, he would sat on the kitchen floor with a cold cup of something he never finished. And sometimes he talked to no one in particular. Just words, soft and broken coming out of his mouth. "I'm sorry." He would say. "I'm so so sorry." Because that is all he had left now, words that didn't matter, and time he couldn't spend with you.

Imagine the way he became cold. Not cruel.. just quiet in a way that people get when they're trying not to fall apart. Caleb started turning his mirrors around. He didn't like what he saw. Not just the tired eyes or the cracked lips, or the weight loss. But the look in his face that said. 'I did this. I let this happen.' He barely spoke unless he had to. He only smiled when it made other people feel better. He kept your name locked behind his teeth because every time he said it out loud, it made you more real. More gone.

Imagine the apartment was gone. It was reduced into nothing but ash but in his mind, it was still full. Full of your scent, full of your laugh echoing down the hallway, your humming from the kitchen even though you thought he wasn't listening. In his mind, your sweater was still draped over the back of a chair. Your silly collections on top of the cabinet still lies in there. Everything was still there... in memory. But memory is cruel. It doesn't keep him warm.

Imagine he would stood where the front door used to be. He imagined you fumbling with your keys, holding your phone in the other hand. He imagined your tired smile after a long day. He imagined that final moment, the second before the blast. Alone. Scared. Thinking he had chosen someone else over you. The way he dropped on his knees on that sidewalk, screaming for your name like it would matter. Like you might hear it somehow. Like it would rewind the clock. But the world just kept going. Cars passed. People talked. A dog barked. And Caleb sat there in the rain. With the colorless world buzzing around him, trying to figure out how to keep breathing when the very reason for it had been turned to ash.

Imagine there was no funeral. Not one he could attend, anyway. He stood from a distance, dressed in clothes that no longer fit him the same. And when they lowered you into the ground, the only thing he could think was, You had died thinking he didn't choose you. And that thought became his prison.

Imagine the grief didn't sit quietly with Caleb. It screamed, it bled into every bit of his bones, carved into his muscles and made a home in his throat. People tried. Pips, MC tried. A few old friends. They sent messages, knocked on doors, left food, sat beside him without speaking. But none of it reached him. He wasn't there. Not anymore. He had gone down with the fire. Caleb wasn't angry at the people who did it, not really. It is just that it would require energy. Hope and maybe even vengeance. But all he had was this heavy, dead weight where his heart used to be. They said grief is a process. Not for him.

Imagine his grief was not a wound that was forgotten over and healed with time. His was a decision. A stone. Something he placed at the bottom of his soul and built his new life around. Grief wasn't leaving. It was him now.

Imagine years passed. Seasons changed. The world kept turning, as it always does. He went back to work, trained new recruits, took missions. He comes back, breathed and slept when he could. Ate, when he remembered. He functioned but he wasn't living. He moved like a man underwater, everything muffled, slow, cold. He visited your grave once a year. Same day, same hour, same flowers, same path. Every year he stood in front of your name and imagined what could have been. How you would have aged, how your voice might have changed, how many more hours he could have memorized your face if only he had stayed.

Imagine the way his hands do not shake in missions. He wasn't reckless, he doesn't want to die, not really. But he didn't care if he did. MC noticed. She didn't say anything for a long time, but she saw it in his face. The way he didn't duck as fast, the way his reflexes were dulled, like he was living underwater. Like pain didn't scare him anymore. Like consequences were someone else problem. And then one night he finally told her without warning.

"They died thinking I chose you." MC’s breath hitched. "They didn't know." He wanted to cry, really. But at the same time, he doesn't know how. "About the threat. I told them it was you… I didn’t explain. I didn’t stay. I thought I was saving them." He looked at his hands and flexed them like he couldn't remember how they were supposed to feel. "They died thinking I left them again." MC cried for him. And he didn't.

Imagine Caleb, he never fell in love again. He didn't even try. Women smiled. Men lingered. But Caleb never reached back. He never leaned in. He never looked too long. He did not have anything left to give. Everything that once lived inside him, the laughter, the gentleness, the clumsy warmth. All of it had been burned away. People asked him once in passing if he was seeing anyone.

"No." He replied. "I don't think I can love again." It wasn't dramatic. It wasn't sad. It was just true. You were it, you were the love story. The first chapter, the middle, the end. And now, there were no more pages to turn.

Imagine Caleb was never the same again. He stopped talking about you but you were in everything. The way he tied his boots. The songs he skipped. The movies he couldn't watch. The way he smiled politely at joy but never let it all the way in. He kept you close, but hidden like a secret he didn't want to heal from. And maybe that's how love lives, when the person is gone. Not in photos or keepsakes, or places but in the habits you never unlearn. In the pain you don't ask to be free from.

Imagine Caleb did not believe in happy endings anymore. He believed in you. In that movie night. In your trembling voice. In the way you held his hand even when it hurt. In your laugh when you were tired. In your humming in the kitchen. In the way you looked at him like he wasn't broken. That was what he carried. That, and the weight of everything unsaid. There was no healing for him. No sudden realization that life must go on. Caleb never truly returned. Because you were the return point. You were the home he was always trying to get back to. And the moment you were gone, the map disappeared.

Imagine he never moved on. He never wanted to. Because in the end, Caleb accepted that you would never come back and that he would never be whole again. But he also accepted that it was worth it. That loving you, even for a moment, had been enough even if it killed him slowly. Even if it burned everything else away. Even if he died with that love, quiet and buried and unspoken, still holding your name in the dark. Because you were the only one and he would carry you always. In grief. In silence. In peace.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

: i never thought expanding my vocabulary after the grammar police would lead me quite poetic. So wtf.

: i finish this tonight, I'll have the rest of the boys queued so XD don't come after me. *peace out*

[cantharel]

Whenever Simon spent a lot of time away in a mission, the two of you almost had a ritual when he's back, one that Simon loved with all his heart.

Every time he came home, he craved your food. Each time, he felt his stomach rumble when he smelled what you had prepared for him. And don't even mention dessert, because he loves that vanilla cake that only you know how to make.

He loved the feeling of having sex with you after so long away. The feeling was stronger than ever. But that wasn't all, what he loved even more was having you in his arms, so the first thing he did was hug you, tuck you into his arms and stay that way for a good few minutes.

Simon didn't say anything. He just hugged you and smelled you, a comforting smell, uniquely your own, that made him feel at home.

It took him a while to let go of you, and as soon as he did, he would spend time looking at you, a small smile on his face as he kissed your forehead.

He loved you so much, you could already tell by these actions. A silent 'I love you' every time he kissed your forehead, looking at you tenderly even though he was exhausted.

His favorite part was when you pampered him. He would never admit it out loud, but by God, he loved it when you bathed him, massaging and kissing his body while you gossiped about what had happened while he was away.

His hands on your hips, a warm, lazy smile on his lips as you told him that the neighbor had done something in her apartment. Which always fell on deaf ears. He didn't give a damn about the old lady. He just wanted to hear your voice.

He wanted to hear something that would give him peace, something that was different from the gunfire and explosions of that last mission. You let him grounded, reminding him that he was home.

And when it was finally time for him to rest with you, all he did was throw himself on the bed, and he allowed himself to be the little spoon in these situations. It seemed silly, but Simon felt safe when he was in your arms, the feeling of being held by you calmed him down, and when he was tired like that, he would settle down in the comfort of your embrace for a good night's sleep. And it always worked.

But first, he gave your ring hand a gentle kiss, smiling slightly when he saw the wedding band on your fingers, and then he whispered a "I love you," letting tiredness overcome him. He had married the right person, that was enough to make his heart light, to give him a reason to be happy after getting back from a mission.

He has a reason to come home now. And he's more than content with it.

Simon didn't know how long he would be at home, but he would certainly enjoy most of the time with you, his love.

Omg!!! 100 followers! Tyyyy! Thank you so much!💖💖

[melloeyed]

Gaslight District X Mom!Reader Headcanons

Part Two

(Reader is Butcher Ken’s wife and Mel and Breadhead’s Mama.)

• Being the wife of a mafia boss while being the mother of a human and a yeast golem is pure insanity, but when it comes to the love for your family, there’s nothing you cannot handle.

• You mostly spend your days tending to The Whale Belly Butchershop while Ken and Mud are on their missions with the kids, but it’s not unheard of for you to join them.

• Mel would always be the first person to bounce into your arms after a successful killing mission, rambling about how awesome the trip was and how she helped the gang. She would always love hearing your words of praise after putting up with Ken’s endless bickering for her safety.

“…and then I used the chainsaw! Pretty cool, huh, mom?”

“Oh-ho-ho! I wish I was there to see it, sweetie!”

• You would always quickly tend to Mel whenever she was injured after a mission.

• Like Ken, you were severely worried about your daughter’s safety, considering how you and your husband are the only people who know she’s a human. Though, unlike him, you’re not as overprotective.

• And Mel absolutely loves you for that. She would often use you as leverage for winning arguments with her dad when it comes to her safety.

“Mel, I always told you not to-!”

“Oh, c’mon, Ken! You never let me go outside on my own! Mom always lets me!”

“DON’T BRING YOUR MOTHER INTO THIS!”

• Breadhead is a total mama’s boy and will always look forward to at least spending time with you every single day. The silly bread man just loves your guts. You’ve been nothing but sweet to him since he was a bun in the oven and he’s always willing to return the love.

• Anything his mama says, he’ll do it. Do chores at work, he’ll do it. Bring a souvenir from one of the missions, he’ll do it. Cement the man that insulted your cooking, he’ll do it.

• Just like how Mel wants Ken to be proud of her, Breadhead can’t get enough of you being proud of him.

• There was a time when you joined the Smiling Dead on a mission and Breadhead was bubbling with excitement. He was twice as excited to fight with his mama and often turned to you for praise after brutally mutilating a random Rotling.

“Mama, did you see that? Did you see what I did?”

“Of course, honey bun. Mama’s so proud!”

“Heh heh! Mama’s proud of me!”

• Even though you don’t join missions, you’re just as insane and demented as the rest of the crew. Though you do a better job at hiding it than the others. Ken and Mud find you fun to be around because of this.

• Your kids would be busy ripping apart their latest victim and you would be just watching them, unfazed with a calm yet proud smile, completely splattered in the victims purple blood.

• Ken would always plan date nights with you whenever your schedule was open. Slow dancing in the closed butcher shop with soft music in the background was always his go-to for a romantic night.

• You and Ken were the undead Bonnie and Clyde of the town, but better. You, Ken, and Mud were the only members of the Smiling Gang before Mel and Breadhead were born.

• Mud would often reminisce those days. He would always bring up how he missed those good old times when it was just you three and how much more exciting and crazier the missions were back in the day.

“Ah, Mel. You should’ve seen (Y/N) back then when she was in the crew! She was one crazy bitch!”

“Watch it, Mud! But yes, I quite was…”

• Mud often tends to steal your things just to rile you up. He knows that pissing you off is like playing with fire, but hey, what’s more fun than bickering with his sister-in-law?

• Being the wife of a mafia don always has its perks. Ken never stops spoiling you after making a good amount of scarab from work. Dresses, jewelry, custom-made knives, he always knew what you wanted.

• He happily remembered how you squealed with joy and covered his face with kisses after he gave you a torture rack as a gift on your 4th anniversary together.

• And just like Ken, you know how to spoil him too. Cooking his favorite meals, gifting him a new car and weapons, giving him a divine massage after a long and hard day of work, and always being there for him when he needs a hand.

• Ken feels like the luckiest man on earth whenever you have his back. He always tends to solve his own problems when it comes to crooks that try to mess with his family, but when his wife does it for him? He has hearts in his eyes for you.

• There was a time when a random creepy guy tried to grope Mel in the butcher shop. Before Ken could skin the fool, the creep was already bleeding on the ground, shrieking for mercy from you. But his pleas fell upon deaf ears.

• The other residents of the shop nearly pissed icicles from the smiling death stare you gave to the creep while slowly torturing him. Your calm threats to him didn’t make it better either. While Mel watched you slowly eviscerate the creep in excitement, Ken swooned at the sight of his beautiful wife defending their daughter.

“PLEASE! I’M SORRY! I WON’T DO IT AGAIN!”

“…If you ever try to touch my baby girl that way again…I’ll tear out your spine through your dickhole and mulch your shit body into steaming mush…repeatedly and SLOWLY…”

• And yeah. That turns Ken on.

“Uh, dad? Why are you looking at mom like that?”

“Oh, Mel…your mother sure knows how to disturb the peace…in my pants…”

“AUGH! GROSS! TMI, DAD!”

[starsofang]

Single Dad!Simon who vowed to never trust another woman again after his failed past. He was locked up with the key thrown away, permanently off of the market.

At least that’s what he’d told himself for years. Now, he was beginning to have cold feet.

Simon needed a nanny, one that he could trust completely. He didn’t play about his child, and he’d be damned if he got set up with someone of ill intentions.

But, he was desperate.

Price needed him back periodically, even after his retirement, and he agreed. After all, money was tight when he parented on his own with a growing child.

That was when you came in. Soap had been a pal and recommended an old family friend, somebody he knew Simon could trust with his kid. Simon was skeptical, of course, but Soap had never done him wrong. Reluctantly, he agreed.

Simon wanted to have a trial period to see if you were truly built for the task. He wouldn’t let you off easily. His child was his world, and women weren’t exactly in his deck of cards when it came to trust.

You were as sweet as honey upon the first meeting with a smile that could outdo the sun. Your voice was soft as rain, flowing out of you like a summer song. You spoke to him with the upmost respect, and even more so with his child.

Simon knew he could trust Soap in guaranteeing somebody safe. You were the perfect candidate. He just didn’t know it would lead into him feeling emotions he’d buried a long, long time ago.

Attraction. Interest. A crush, dare he say, like he was a stupid high school kid that just saw the prettiest girl in class and fell head over heels.

He had a silly crush on his child’s nanny when he fully intended to keep it short and professional. That was the way he operated. He was like a working machine, and you had undone his mechanics so easily to the point he struggled to function.

Seeing you with his child only caused his attraction to fester deeper. His child became attached to your hip, smiling more than they had ever done, rambling nonsense to him every time he returned home and you left to go to yours.

It was becoming hard to deny it. You opened an old wound of Simon’s, awakening that deep and dreadful loneliness he felt every passing day. Every smile, every laugh, every Mr. Riley even though you were close in age, all of it had him on the edge of his seat.

He wanted more. He was tired of denying himself happiness. The idea of pushing away every woman was still very vivid in his mind, but denying you just seemed criminal the more time passed.

“I never got to thank you for allowing me in to your home, Mr. Riley,” you told him one day, ever so sweet.

“Thought I told you to call me Simon,” he grunted, avoiding your eyes as the two of you stood in the doorway.

“Right. Simon,” you corrected with a radiant smile. “You have quite the kid, I’ll tell you that. I always look forward to coming over. It makes my day seeing the two of you.”

Simon could feel his heart pattering against his ribcage. His hands were sweaty, and he prayed you didn’t notice him swipe them along his jeans.

“Both of us?” he hummed.

“Of course. You’re just as exciting to see, too, Mr. Ri- Simon.”

Simon’s lips quirked up the slightest bit, but his heart was in his ass. For the first time in a long time, a woman was making him shy and nervous, and it didn’t feel as bad as it did before.

“You’re always free to come over for dinner,” he offered.

“That sounds great, I’d love to have dinner with the two of you!” you exclaimed, beaming.

He didn’t understand how you could be so bright yet so oblivious at the same time.

Simon cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably on the balls of his feet. “I meant, the two of us.”

You stared at him like he’d grown two heads, and he nearly slammed the door in your face from the sheer anxiety that spiked in him. He couldn’t read your mind or what you were feeling, and Simon wished he had never said anything to begin with.

“That sounds wonderful,” you said instead. Now it was Simon’s turn to stare at you crazy. “I’d love that.”

Simon realized he was staring too long, so he cleared his throat once again, giving you a brief nod and looking away. “Alright. I’ll text you a day and have Soap pick up the little monster for the night.”

When you agreed and left with the smile that made his heart ache, he didn’t waste a second in texting Soap, telling him he’d be on nanny duty for one night that week.

Soap was quick to agree, but not without a little “You’re welcome ;)” text back.

[jjjjisun]

Pre-Game Ritual (Part 1)

Minju X Male Reader | 16075 words

TW: Incest

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Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

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They were at it again.

Y/N and his girlfriend were always cautious when their parents were around, but if it was just his little sister Minju left in the house, they didn't have a care in the world. It was funny, too, because Minju and her brother never had the 'you won't tell Mom and Dad, will you?' conversation. She could have easily just hinted to her parents what was going on after they left the house.

But ultimately, Minju wasn't going to do it. Her brother was usually sweet to her. Besides, if ever Y/N did something to piss her off, she had his afternoons with that awful girlfriend Eunju to hold over his head.

Eunju let out one more dramatic moan, and she couldn't take it any longer. Minju grabbed her phone and running shoes and made for the door. As she closed it behind her, she was relieved to hear only the breeze blowing through their front yard.

Running was Minju's way of taking her mind off things. As soon as she took her first stride, her frustration began to melt away. The fact that her big brother was inside fooling around with his obnoxious girlfriend didn't matter anymore when her favorite song came up on her beloved running playlist.

Her routine kept her sane, and it was also why Minju was one of the fittest girls she knew. At 5'-6" and 105 lbs., she was proud to be in such good shape; it made a hard run all the easier. And though she hated to admit it, seeing the eyes of neighborhood boys and husbands follow her as she ran by was a rush.

Minju didn't have a boyfriend; that was probably part of her frustration with her brother and his bedroom antics. It wasn't that she didn't want one; it was more that nobody had come along with whom she felt compelled to start a relationship. Either they were silly boys her age, eighteen and immature, or they were older and with transparently lustful intentions toward her.

Minju could see what Eunju saw in her brother. He was twenty, smart, handsome, and yet very unassuming. Being a quarterback on his college football team probably didn't hurt, but he wasn't a colossal jock the way most might have expected. Family-oriented, driven, respectful... Y/N was the works. Why couldn't more boys like him approach her than the guys she was used to?

That's also why she held such high standards for him. Not only was he handsome, with short brown hair and masculine features that already resembled her dad, but he was just an all-around good guy. Eunju didn't deserve him; Minju always felt that Y/N had just fallen for her fast like he always did and that he liked the quarterback cheerleader cliché, too. Whatever, she thought, he'd only been with her a few months, and she could always hope things wouldn't work out.

Minju wondered if maybe her brother would set her up with one of his friends when she rounded the corner heading back to their house. She was intimately aware of how much her boobs were bouncing in her workout top when she passed Mr. Taylor's house; he was such a creep he might as well have blown her a kiss as she passed him while he was watering his flowers.

Minju's tits... They'd been trouble since they showed up in her early teens. Boys at school stared like they'd never seen breasts before in their lives. Men, too: men who were way too old to be gawking at a teenager would pretend they weren't trying to get a look down her shirt. Even her brother! Sometimes, he would stop in the middle of a sentence if she accidentally showed them too much. Maybe 'accident' wasn't the right word. Y/N was the only one she teased on purpose, perhaps because she knew he could do nothing about it.

When she ran up to the driveway, Y/N and his bimbo were on the front porch.

"Good luck tomorrow, baby," Minju heard her say.

"Thanks," her brother replied, "I'll see you after the game?"

"You'll see me at the game!" Eunju said, standing up tall to kiss her brother on the lips.

"You know I don't look over there. I can't be distracted." Y/N reasoned.

"Yea, yea, I get it. Mr. Quarterback can't take his eye off the ball," Eunju said, lovingly touching her brother on the chest.

Minju couldn't help but laugh at the flirty way Eunju said it. She'd tried her hardest to get to the door, but she was thirsty and didn't want to listen to it anymore.

"O...M...G...ARE-YOU-DONE!" She chanted, mocking one of the standard cheers, "CAN-I-GET-IN-THE-FUCKING-DOOR?"

Y/N laughed at his little sister's attitude. He'd seen her running up and knew he'd get an earful when his girlfriend left.

"Very funny, Minju," Eunju said, unimpressed, "Though I hope that's not what you'll be trying out with next year."

"Ugh..." Minju sighed, cocked her hip, and fluffed her ponytail "Should I dye my hair blonde instead?"

Minju shot a nasty look at her brother. He was NOT supposed to be telling anyone on the cheerleading team that his sister would try out it if she got accepted at his school. Even though she couldn't stand many of the girls on the team, she still loved cheering. Being close to the game, getting the crowd engaged, and staying in shape - all of it appealed to Minju, and she had her eyes on doing it for her brother's team if she got in.

Content with the frown on Eunju's face, Minju simply shouldered past her brother and headed inside. He took a moment to say his last goodbyes before following his little sister into the kitchen. He had to take a deep breath when he saw her tilting the bottle back and witnessed a few drips falling onto her chest as she gulped it greedily. The light glisten of sweat on her abs, the tight-fitting workout clothes...oooph. Despite having recently fooled around with his girlfriend, a hot girl was a hot girl, related to him or not. Sometimes, he wished his sister understood that the way he did.

"Why do you always gotta give her such a hard time?"

Minju almost laughed out loud, wanting to say something about her brother giving the dumb blonde a 'hard time' himself.

"Hey, if you are gonna bring your ditzy girlfriends around the house when mom and dad aren't home, I'm gonna reserve the right to make fun of them."

Y/N had difficulty arguing with that. He admired his sister's tenacity most of the time. She knew what she wanted, and she was vocal and rambunctious - everything he wanted in a girlfriend. She was probably right anyway. Eunju didn't knock him out with anything but her looks. And even then, the girl standing right before him was far more attractive. He was sure he could find someone that was right for him; Eunju was simply right for right now.

"Hey, Minju'," he said to her. She wanted to be mad at him, but she loved it when he called her that. "I'm sorry about the cheerleading thing. Eunju put two and two together, and I told her you'd probably try out."

"Two and two huh? Did Eunju finally pass remedial math last semester?" Minju quipped, narrowing her eyes after she'd said it.

Even though he could see her glare, Y/N knew she wouldn't stay mad at him. She only had a few hours each week, if that, to see her brother. He'd come home on Friday and stay the night before his Saturday game. They lived close enough to campus that he would be off before she awoke the next day and went to see him play. Eunju was a part of the weekly routine, but Y/N always got rid of her before it even got dark.

She always wondered how he managed to do it. Minju felt like girls were pretty dramatic when it came to quickies like Eunju seemed to come over for. One weekend, she'd heard the stupid blonde say something like, "...if it helps you play better, then I don't mind!" She hadn't made much of it then; Minju was glad to hear Eunju saying it on her way out.

"Yeah, yeah, I forgive you," Minju said, walking towards her brother and stopping when she smacked the almost empty water bottle against his chest and held her hand there, "I'll be picking the movie tonight."

Y/N rolled his head back and smiled, glad everything was cool between him and his little sis. Maybe he'd even convince her to give him a back massage later if he played the "It'll help me play well tomorrow" card.

Things went as they usually did that night. Minju even agreed to massage her brother's shoulder for a bit, even though she made sure to get a dig in about how he wasn't even a starter. Y/N had fought hard with his coach for his nights at home. Sure, seeing his girlfriend when most other guys were forbidden was a big plus. But he loved seeing his little sister and was so glad she always freed up her Friday nights for him before the game.

They just got along so well. Close in age as they were, Y/N and Minju had a lot of common interests. Football and video games, music, and crappy TV, they typically had a blast every Friday and Y/N went to bed once again, happy to spend time with his little sister. Their parents always did date night on Friday, so they'd only be home shortly before he went to bed.

Sometimes Y/N felt guilty, but more and more he was seeing his little sister in a... different light. She'd grown up fast. Not only was she more mature, but her body was too. He was often confused by how much he enjoyed having her around. He tried to reason that being near a pretty, youthful brunette would always be desirable. She just happened also to be his sister, and as long as he kept his hands to himself everything would be fine.

Typically, that's the way things worked out. Yet, Minju felt just as comfortable as her brother did around her. So, as she sat there massaging his naked shoulder and seeing how huge and muscular he'd gotten since starting college, Minju had some of the same issues her brother did. She also loved being around him, and not just because of how much he made her laugh or how she could talk to him about anything. She loved massaging his back because it was the closest she'd gotten to an attractive guy, and this one didn't try to touch her ass or her boobs whenever he got the chance.

She was only wearing a crop top and her favorite sweatpants, which she rolled and wore low at the waist when she remembered her brother had commented dressing inappropriately around him. Minju had brushed it off... and then wore seemingly less every time he was over after that. Hey, she thought, if he could get off while their parents were out and then get a massage out of her, she could at the very least, feel sexy and comfortable at the same time. His stare didn't bother her one bit.

The next day was incredible. Y/N wasn't a starter, so he'd begun the game uniformed but sitting on the bench. He was only a sophomore but next in line to start as quarterback for the prestigious college team. Things weren't going well for the starter. He fumbled in the first quarter. The offense struggled and only got one field goal out of four or five possessions in a row as the first half was nearing its end. When the QB threw his second interception, and the whistles sounded at the end of the half, Minju was buzzing in her seat that her brother might get his chance.

He'd played before, but only a quarter or a few minutes here and there. They entered the locker room, and Minju's mom touched her shoulder.

"Wouldn't it be great if your brother started the second half?" She said, looking excited.

Minju's heart beat faster. "You think he will, Dad? Do you think Oppa is going to start?"

Her dad raised his eyebrows and said, "I know what I'd do if I were the coach... he just might."

"You think he's ready?" Minju's mom asked her father.

A passing memory took Minju as her parents chatted about her brother's workout routine. Eunju had said something that other day when she'd overheard them. "...gotta make sure you're ready," she'd said, or something like that. Why was she remembering that now?

Sure enough, as halftime ended Y/N ran out of the tunnel with his helmet on. He was going to play.

He looked shaky as he lined up for his first snap. This time, seeing him on the field felt a little different. They were coming from behind, and her brother wasn't just a quick substitution; he was meant to be the solution.

He handed the ball off twice, but they still had a few yards to get the first down. It looked like they were keeping the ball out of the air and in the unknown hands of her brother. But when they lined up and Y/N called for the ball, he dropped back to pass it.

Minju held her breath the whole time.

'Pass it Oppa...!' she screamed inwardly.

... COME ON PASS IT!

And then he did.

It was a beautiful throw - a bullet right across the middle.

The receiver was brought down right away but well beyond the first-down line. The whole crowd cheered, and Minju and her parents locked arms and jumped up and down. He'd done it; she was so proud.

After that, Y/N was everything he needed to be. They didn't do anything too crazy, and he was playing pretty safe, but in no time, they were near the end zone, and Minju was clenching her mom's arm tight until he threw a perfect pass to the back corner for a touchdown.

Minju felt like she knew exactly why girls were so drawn to quarterbacks at that moment. Here she was, screaming like a complete fool and jumping up and down in her team sweatshirt, yelling her brother's name and practically in tears. Dam,n does he look good in that uniform, Minju thought as he trotted off the field to let the kicking team on.

The rest of the game was a haze. She was so excited to see her brother finally playing as she was, but Minju almost couldn't handle it that he was leading them to a win. When the final second ticked off the clock, and it was her brother holding the ball, she giggled outright as he threw it up in the air in his excitement.

The team rallied and celebrated on the field, and her family was allowed to walk on while the rest of the crowd shuffled out of the stadium. Y/N hugged their mom and dad, picked Minju up, and spun her around in a circle. Minju could feel the sweat on his pads and the heat radiating from him until he set her down with a huge smile.

"I think it was all because of the shoulder massage, Minju," he said, "this ball's for you."

Minju felt him push the ball into her midsection like she had the water bottle into him the day before.

"You were so awesome, bro," Minju praised, "but you better take this thing back before somebody tries to tackle me."

"You mean like me!" He said, bending down to grab her waist and picking her up again, slinging her over his shoulder like it was nothing. Minju screamed and kicked, but he didn't set her down until he'd made her sufficiently dizzy. Their parents looked on and laughed the whole time.

Minju saw her brother's girlfriend looking at them from afar, clearly displeased that she wasn't getting all the attention. It gave Minju an odd sense of satisfaction, even if their relationships with her brother differed.

"You better go do the same thing to Eunju," Minju whispered when her brother put her down. She looked jealous."

Y/N sighed knowingly and gave his sister a hasty, final hug. Saying goodbye to his parents and Minju, Y/N ambled over to talk to his cheerleader-girlfriend. Minju couldn't help but notice him looking in her direction over Eunju's shoulder as she was leaving.

-

After that, things blew up. People went on and on about how poised her brother was in the game despite having minimal experience. He started in the away game the following week, and they won. It was a close game, and Y/N made some mistakes, but watching him on television, she couldn't help but see all of the strengths that people had been touting in the write-ups of his first big performance.

Minju congratulated her brother via text, and he quickly responded that he was looking forward to a Friday at home the following week.

-I bet you would have made that pass at the end of the first half if you had a shoulder massage!-

[I bet you're right. Do you think I'm a big loser for wanting to hang out with my little sister on a Friday night?]

Minju blushed, even though she was alone in her room with the lights off.

-Are you kidding, a loser? Did you SEE the game I just did?-

-Oh, that's right... you were that stud quarterback who WON it!-

[Thanks Minju, I can't wait to see you next week.]

God did he love his little sister, Y/N thought. He was in a cab on the way out to celebrate the victory that night, and all he could think about was how great it would be to talk through all the plays the way he had on the phone with Minju after his first game. Inevitably, there would be a thousand girls throwing themselves at him that night, but Y/N felt sure none of them could match his little sis. Maybe he was wrong, but first and foremost, they were hungry to sleep with a football player, and most of them wouldn't even be as attractive as Minju. If only she wanted that too, then he'd have the whole package. 'Ugh,' he shook off. It was probably the booze talking.

Minju wished they'd seen his potential from the very start. Her brother started and won every game for the rest of the season, which was already more than half over when he'd first come out onto the field for that fateful second half. Because they had enough losses before that, there wasn't much left to make of their season when Y/N stepped in, but there was a lot of talk about the season to come.

And each week, each home game at least, Minju and Y/N hung out just the two of them for as much time as they could. She couldn't stand that he insisted on Eunju coming over, hearing them in his bedroom after she got home from school, but glad to see her leave shortly after. Y/N had insisted that their parents give him time to himself (with Minju...and Eunju), and they'd obliged, given his success on the field.

Their time together was usually the same: a movie and a lot of talking about what was going on in their lives. But for Minju, her feelings were slowly evolving. She couldn't help it. Everybody was talking about him. Her parents were so proud, and girls at school went on and on about how hot he was. Being that he was the quarterback of the state college team, the exposure meant constant reminders of him everywhere Minju went.

So her attitude toward him was gradually changing whether she knew it or not. She'd often lay on top of her shirtless brother for a long time after kneading his back, just enjoying the deep bass in his voice that vibrated her chest as they bantered. Minju began to crave that time with her brother, cuddling seemingly closer every week when they watched a movie. She simply wanted to be with him.

And Y/N was no dummy. Despite being a big, burly football player, he was quite smart, or so he told himself. It wasn't as if he didn't notice that his little sister was not so resistant to touch his back anymore or that she was wearing seemingly less and less every time she came downstairs for their movie. Yet, it still felt... natural. Many girls were throwing themselves at Y/N nowadays, but Minju had earned his attention rather than exploited it, and he liked giving it to her.

There was this one day he'd almost called her out for it. She might as well have been naked... well, not quite, but perhaps the fact that he'd never seen her naked, and this was as close as he'd get, was why he kept his mouth shut.

The underwear was enough to make him shiver: an orange-ish pair of panties, simple but tight at each curve and the gap between her thighs. They had a white edge that he followed with his eyes as it wrapped around her tiny waist and those damned legs of hers. But then the shirt, or was it a sheet? This draped white thing with a big curved neck exposed her almost from shoulder to shoulder. The tiny sleeves were all that held it up. And, of course, it didn't reach more than halfway down her upper half. His little sister's entire midsection, perhaps one of his favorite parts of hers, was left entirely to his view.

Both of the small pieces of clothing looked somewhat transparent. Y/N wanted to look long enough to determine whether he was seeing the dark circles of Minju's nipples or the tiny dark slit at the gap between her thighs, but he tore his gaze away before it became inappropriate. He couldn't believe that you could buy clothing like that or that his little sister was wearing it around him. Did it look that good on other girls because Y/N was practically hard during the entire movie, and wondering why his sister would be so brazen around him? Did she know how attracted to her he was that night?

Suddenly, he couldn't get Eunju out of the house fast enough on Fridays, though he believed he needed the release the night before the game. More and more, it seemed like she was just happy to be the girlfriend of the star quarterback; he got a little release when he needed it, and she got to parade him around when she wanted to.

And just like that, the season was over.

The hype continued for a few weeks after their last game. He had to do some interviews and a couple of articles for newspapers and magazines. He was no international star, but the college team fanatics demanded plenty of him. The holidays came and went, and we were busy as usual. Before they knew it, Minju and her brother were well into the second half of the school year.

Sometimes, he couldn't make it on Friday nights to be home with his little sister. Y/N had loaded up his second semester with classes to make the workload easier during the football season. He felt awful, but she understood, making him love her even more.

But when he did make it home, it was awesome. Every time he saw her, Y/N seemed to get closer to his little sister. And she just kept getting more beautiful. She was only recently eighteen, and every day, she became more aware of her body and how to carry herself. Each day on his way home, Y/N guiltily looked forward to what his little sister might wear that night.

Sometimes, he wondered if the two of them were toying with each other, playing with the possibility that one of them might do something rash. But he knew how happy it made Minju to have someone like him that she could entirely rely on to make her feel comfortable; he didn't want to ruin that. He didn't know that Minju was struggling to respect him similarly. But they loved their time together so much that it didn't matter.

They were starting to talk on the phone regularly or at least text when he hadn't seen her in a while. They were so busy with schoolwork, sports, and training that they marked their weeks by the time they talked to or saw each other. Sooner than both Y/N and Minju could have imagined, pages of the dog calendar their mother hung in the kitchen flipped by, and the summer was upon them.

Y/N had trained almost daily for the upcoming football season. He'd never expected his responsibilities to become important to him, his coaches, or his team. Add to that, finishing up a semester of college, and his schedule was chock-full. The first week of summer would be a much-needed breather, but then it would be off to summer training camp. He even had time to spend with his family and a few days hanging out with only his little sis. They took a day out on the lake together, went to dinner one night, and even agreed to go shopping with her the day before he left for summer training camp.

"I don't want you to go," Minju said, her big, green, puppy-dog eyes looking teary. She dreaded that this would be the first summer she didn't get to spend with her brother.

"Do you have to?" Minju asked sadly, feeling her brother's big, strong arms wrap around her in the middle of the department store.

"I don't want to leave you, Minju, but I want to be at my best for next season. It's gonna be a big year for me." He said regretfully, holding her close enough to catch the subtle shampoo scent in her soft, brown hair.

"We can talk or text any time you want," he promised, pulling back and staring into her sad eyes.

That only made her feel marginally better, but she shook her head knowingly. Y/N held his sister for a while as they walked through the store. She picked out a new pair of sweatpants that admittedly excited Y/N, reminding him of how she usually looked when she'd be wearing them and the time they spent together... how they rode low, and her hip bones were often revealed to his wandering eyes as she laid in front of him on the couch.

"What do you think? She said, coming out of the changing room for the third time.

Minju saw her brother jump when he looked up from the green sweatpants he recognized as the ones she'd picked out. Suddenly, he was looking away like his eyes were burning.

"Minju!" He said, looking back toward her through his hand.

"WHAT?" She mocked, giggling.

"You can't wear that out here!"

He was probably right, she had on the sweatpants, as low as she possibly could wear them. The lines of her toned abdomen led down to what was likely a totally bare pussy based on what her brother could see. But the top wasn't a top at all. It was a sexy, black bra. The lace revealed much of her breasts to her brother's eyes. He'd always been totally caught off guard by how amazing his sister's tits were, but this was more than she'd ever let him see.

"Oh you can look Oppa, stop being such a wuss."

He did slowly look back in his little sister's direction, but it felt like he shouldn't. Yet, as soon as he saw how the black lace pushed his sister's breasts upward and most of the demi-cup left her chest bare, Y/N wasn't about to look away.

"So... what do you think?"

"Incredible..." he said, unwittingly. Minju's breasts had been amazing for years, and now that the rest of her body had caught up, he was like a helpless puppy.

"The sweatpants and the bra?" she asked with a huge grin.

Y/N was so embarrassed. He'd literally just complimented his little sister's tits, her beautiful body... no question there. Thank god she'd let him off the hook.

"I think you should buy them, both of them." He said without flinching.

Minju had never felt sexier. As her brother pretended, poorly, that he wasn't looking up and down every inch of tanned skin she'd revealed to him, she realized how loved it made her feel. Plenty of guys had complimented her before, but nobody made her knees feel weak the way that Y/N did. She turned around and headed back to the changing room after being sufficiently convinced that he'd liked what he saw. Y/N almost exploded when he saw the dimples in her lower back and then their eyes met quickly before Minju perked her little butt up for him once and then closed the door behind her.

Y/N had to take a deep breath. What on earth had gotten into him? And what about her? God damnit did she look breathtaking in even the simple two pieces of clothing. Why did she insist on flaunting it in front of him, and why was he feeling so much like touching her?

Minju walked out of the dressing room wearing what she had on before she went in. Somehow seeing her clothed now got him just as excited. Even the cute flannel shirt and tank-top she was wearing made her beautiful, and he wondered if he'd see the bra and sweatpants she was holding in her hand again before he left.

When Y/N stood, his little sister stopped him before he could exit the changing rooms. Nobody was around; it felt private... intimate as she placed hand on the middle of his chest.

Minju rested her head against him and wrapped her free arm around his back. Everywhere she touched he was just...solid. When his arms encircled her she felt that familiar tingling coursing through her, made stronger as she sensed the strong beat of his heart against her hand.

"I'm really going to miss you, you know that, right?" She said quietly, like she didn't want anyone else to hear.

"I know little one, I'm going to miss you too."

Before he could do or say anything else, Minju stood up tall and kissed him right on the lips. His face had been downturned and his eyes closed as he held her; he didn't even know it was coming.

But her lips were so soft. There was a hint of sweetness on them, and they moved ever so slightly. He shouldn't have been kissing his little sister that way, with his hands around her and the kiss lasting longer than it could have. But nobody could see them, and nobody had to know who they were. In that moment, the kiss felt like the best way to say goodbye.

Minju dropped back from her tiptoes and finally took a breath, realizing how fast her heart was beating. She hadn't planned it, but all of the sudden their lips were together and she didn't want it to end. 'Why did he have to go?' she repeated in her head again and again, knowing the answer but still feeling frustrated.

They didn't get much more after that. They talked and laughed and played around for a bit longer before it was time to go. Even after the kiss, everything just felt ...normal...right. She hated that pulling back into the driveway meant they were all that much closer to her brother leaving for the summer, but she was finally coping with it. She lay awake that night listening to her dad and brother talk in the other room as he packed until she finally drifted off to sleep thinking of Y/N.

Minju went with her dad to take Y/N to the airport the next day, but there would certainly be no more kissing her brother the way they had the day before. She looked down at her feet as her dad was shaking her brother's hand and wishing him good luck before heading back to the drivers' seat.

"Hey," he said, putting his finger below her chin and lifting it up to him. His heart almost broke apart to see that Minju had tears in her eyes. "Ohhh Minju', come on, you're killin' me."

She half giggled, half sobbed as their gazes met.

"I love you little sis, and it's only a few months," he assured her.

"I know," she sighed, "it's just...ughhhh!" Minju stomped her foot on the ground like she was going to throw a fit. She was so upset to be losing her best friend, even if it was only temporarily.

"Just go... you big jerk."

"I'm already marking our Fridays on my calendar for next year, and I'll see you on the sidelines too."

"Okay," Minju agreed half-heartedly, knowing she still had to make the cheerleading team but flattered her brother just assumed she would.

"I love you too," she said finally.

She jerked when her brother kissed her cheek and then squeezed her side like he always did. Watching him walk away, she felt like it was going to be a long summer.

-

It was tough without him, but not unbearable. A couple times a week they would text about what was going on at the football camp or how Minju was choosing her schedule, this and that. She'd gotten into the state college during Y/N's amazing football season and knew she'd be going there from the minute she opened the letter. The program they had for her major was one of the top in the country, so she didn't feel like she was just following her brother to the same college.

In fact, she was looking forward to them being at the same school. Y/N was going to be a junior and Minju a freshman. Despite being very independent and proud of it, Minju had already made some friends due to Y/N's newfound fame. Every time somebody recognized her last name in the programs and orientations she attended over the summer, she felt proud to call him big brother.

Minju looked forward to the times he would call her on the phone. It was always late at night, sometimes waking her up, but Minju was so glad to see his number pop up that she awoke immediately an answered with an excited "hey big bro!"

Y/N could sometimes hear his sister waking. He imagined that she was wearing one of those outfits from their Friday nights at home. Laying in her bed, maybe in just a tiny pair of underwear she felt sexy in, Y/N could hear his little sister yawn and he pictured her tiny frame stretching out under the covers.

Sometimes late at night, their conversations felt so private, almost secretive. Whether it was the fact that they were both in a darkened room with nobody else around or that they weren't wearing much or something else, to Minju it felt kind of naughty. She thought that the way they talked was more like the way she imagined talking to a boyfriend, one she didn't have of course.

And Y/N didn't have anybody but Minju. Eunju would call now and again, but she was... not all that interesting to talk to. Usually, when he hung up with his girlfriend, he couldn't go to bed until he talked to his little sister, hoping to have some meaningful conversation before he finally turned in.

"Hey Minju', how come you never let any of those boys you tell me about take you out on more than a date or two?" Y/N asked her one of the nights when they were both talking in bed a couple hundred miles away from each other.

"Well that's a little personal, isn't it, Mr. Nosy?" she responded.

"Well, seeing as how you asked what Eunju looks like naked, I think we're past being bashful about stuff like this," Y/N chided back.

He was probably right; Minju was feeling competitive one night when her brother told her he'd just hung up with his girlfriend and she wanted to know. She was now confident that her body, especially her chest was sufficiently more appealing to her brother (apparently, he was a "breasts man")

"FINE..." she replied, "I dunno, I guess I just... I haven't met anybody worthwhile yet. And they all want to get in my pants on like, the first date. It's exhausting."

"Aww shoot, Minju, I didn't know that. I mean, you gotta give the guys a little slack though you know?"

"Why would I do that??" Minju asked, frustrated

"Well, you're... I dunno... you're really..." he couldn't seem to get the words out.

"I'm what Oppa?" Minju asked, sort of expecting her brother to say something about her being too stuck-up or bitchy.

"How do I say this..." he continued, hoping she would give him an out.

Minju just waited in silence, wondering what he was trying to say.

"Ugh, fine." he started, "You're hot, Minju. Guys are going to want to hook up with you when they first see you. Frankly, I'm worried about it for when you start at school with me."

"Oh..." Minju said. Y/N wished he could be there with his little sis so they didn't have an unknown, uncomfortable silence on the phone. He was glad when she continued:

"That doesn't mean they can just be dogs all the time though. One guy actually pulled the car over and asked if I would blow him on the way home from our second date!"

"Whoa..." Y/N let out, sounding upset, "That's not okay... Who is he? What's his name?"

Minju smiled when she heard her brother getting mad. As much as she would like to see her brother pummel that douchebag Hyunmin, Y/N wanting to defend her was reward enough.

"Oh, relax Oppa, you'll never need to see him, nor will I."

"Hmmph..." He sighed, sounding unsatisfied, "So...did you?"

"Did I what?... OH GOD NO!" Minju gasped, "Did you need to ask?!"

She could hear her brother laughing on the other end. "No, I figured. I just wanted to rile you up."

Minju giggled, too. He did always knew how to push her buttons.

"Can I tell you something Oppa?"

"Sure Minju', anything."

"I've never done... 'it'... before."

Y/N paused a few seconds, trying to process what he'd just heard. Though he hadn't thought his little sister would ever share something like that with him, a small part of Y/N was happy to hear that she was a virgin.

"Oh..." he responded, "You know that's totally okay right? A lot of girls get all worried about it but you shouldn't be."

"I know," Minju said, "but I just don't want to come off as really prude like I'm above it or something; I just haven't found the right guy."

"...and that's awesome." Y/N assured her, "I think it makes you even more attractive. Like you know what you want, and it means something to you."

Minju curled up tightly in her bed. She bit the tip of her thumb, thinking about what her brother was telling her. Not only was someone she loved and wholly respected telling her not to worry about something she'd spent all too much time agonizing about, but he was also telling her that it made her more attractive.

"What about you?" Minju asked, "I mean I guess I know you've done it before."

"Yeah, I guess you do..." he said, knowing that Minju had heard him with Eunju before and feeling somewhat bad about it now that she'd told him she was a virgin. "But I wish I thought about it the way you did or that I could."

"What do you mean?" asked his little sister.

"Well when you have a boyfriend or a girlfriend and you have sex, things can just kind of change. Sometimes I wish I could really take time to care about someone before jumping into it. You can do that, at least."

He paused, seeming to be hung up on his feelings.

"Eunju and I...well... I don't want to talk about her.

Minju could hear some hurt in her brother's voice. She felt terrible for razzing him all the time about his girlfriend.

"It's okay Oppa, I know things can be complicated sometimes."

He was quiet.

"Do you know how much I love you?" Minju asked.

"No, how much is that?" Y/N said, smiling again.

Minju put on the most innocent, girly voice she could, "LIKE...sooooo much," she said. He could almost hear her smiling through the phone.

"I love you too Minju." Y/N told her.

For the moment of silence that followed, both Minju and her brother truly wished they weren't talking over the phone but instead being there with each other. It wasn't just that he knew his little sister would be wearing very little and stretched out alone in her bed. It was also that he wanted to hold her so she could understand how much he meant that he loved her. Minju, too wondered how he might touch her if they embraced right then. Her skin tingled, wondering what her brother might look like after the months of workouts he'd been telling her about. Something told her she'd be intimidated by how big and muscular he'd gotten.

She wanted to say something more. The tingling sensation working its way from her core out to her fingers and toes made Minju speak without thinking,

"I wish you were here with me," she said. Her fingers traced a path from her neck down to the curve of her breast.

Y/N could hear something more in his sister's voice, and though he knew he shouldn't, he wanted her to feel the same thing her words doing to him.

"I wish I were there with you too Minju."

Minju's whole body was feeling warmer. She didn't know what to think about how he was making her feel.

"Goodnight little sis," Y/N said after waiting long enough.

"Goodnight big bro," she said, not meaning to sound quite as sexy as she did.

"Two weeks," Y/N said right before he hung up, hearing his little sister say sleepily, "I can't wait." as he hit a button to end the call.

Was he going crazy? Was he supposed to feel like if his little sister was in the room right then he would have been unable to help himself touching her all over, running his hands over her body: those wonderful breasts he longed to see, kissing her beautiful neck and shoulders, caressing her legs. Did she know that he'd hung up the phone and found himself fully hard, thinking of her in a way he knew he should not?

She was just so gorgeous. Even over the phone he was conjuring up all the times he'd looked at her and marveled at her beauty. What was he going to do when they were finally going to school together? What if he had to watch guys talk to her, flirt with her, even make a move. Y/N knew he wouldn't be able to fall asleep until he took care of his erection. Strong as his feelings were, he couldn't force the images of his barely clothed little sister out of his mind. When he finally released the pent up excitement he'd discovered in talking to Minju, it was to the image of her lying in bed.

He couldn't possibly know, but his little sister had done the very same thing, imagining that Y/N came home and finally helped her understand what it might feel like to be with a boy.

-

Two weeks flew by. Both Y/N and Minju had fully packed schedules before he was to return home. When their heads hit the pillow at night, they were lucky to even exchange a few texts before falling asleep.

Then, Minju came home from the gym one day during the week before school started and almost fainted at the sight of her brother. Not only was she so unbelievably glad to see him, but he looked incredible. He was tan from all the time out in the sun. His hair had grown longer and unruly. He even had a dark scruff on his face, so he looked considerably older. And he was huge! He filled out an old t-shirt so it looked stretched across his muscles. His chest, his arms, his abs! Minju felt so guilty when she sensed herself getting wet as she approached him.

And Y/N was in for even more of a treat than his sister, or at least he thought so. She had obviously spent some time in the sun, but her body... God was she even more beautiful than he remembered. It had been less than three months and he wondered if it was the same girl. Or perhaps he was seeing her differently, still unbelieving that such a beautiful girl could also be his little sister.

Her stomach was flat as ever, with a hint of her abs showing when she ran over to jump into his arms. She wrapped her toned little legs around him and squeezed him tight. Y/N remembered talking with Minju about the size of her boobs compared to his girlfriend's and he knew as she pressed them against him, even in a sports bra, that Minju's were bigger.

"Are you ready for school next week?" He said excitedly, setting her cute bottom on the counter top. Y/N was glad their parents weren't around because he was definitely taking some liberties with his hands, leaving them on her hips as he set her down.

Minju shook her head, 'Yes,' looking anxious and adorable at the same time. She had imagined her brother coming home so many times, and this was even better. She couldn't help herself from leaning in and planting a quick peck on his lips.

They were quiet, contented, for a while. Neither of them really cared to speak. Y/N was standing between his little sister's legs and holding her close enough that he was glad he hadn't gotten hard...yet. Even thinking about it worried him that Minju might soon be feeling something she shouldn't pressing against the tight fabric of her workout shorts.

"I know you're going to hate me for this, but I have to be at school 24/7 before our first game in a week and a half.

Minju's mouth dropped open. She was half-pretending, she'd expected it based on everything he'd been telling her over the phone. When he saw his little sister crack a grin instead of the big grimace he expected, Y/N narrowed his eyes at her.

"I know, I won't give you too much shit about it. I'm just really happy you're home!" She said, hugging him again. Y/N was truly worried she might feel something in his shorts.

"...And so BIG!" she fawned, seeing his worry disappear as she put her hands on his shoulders and rubbed them. He could tell she was giving him a hard time, acting like one of the many girls he expected to encounter on his first week back.

"Will you come back on Friday before the game?"

"Well the coach made a big deal about it, but after telling him it was my ritual every time last year... and then you know... we won every game... he gave in."

Minju showed her beautiful white smile, and it was all Y/N really needed to see that day. He was so glad to be holding his little sister and to know that nothing had changed about how they interacted, even though he knew the way he felt about her had.

-

The week before school started, tryouts for the cheerleading team were held. Minju had been working all summer for her big moment, and she knew she was ready. Y/N had even walked with her from her dorm to the facility and given her a big hug before sending her in. She felt all the more confident that he believed in her.

"Can I watch?" Y/N had asked.

"NO!" Minju fired back. She did not want him to see just in case she didn't make it.

"Aww, Minju, you know you're going to kill it, right?" he said, hugging her and pushing her through the door. His touch on her lower back was comforting; it lingered even as she walked out into the gym when her name was called.

She needn't have been nervous. The panel of four girls, a coach and an assistant coach were all that was there to watch her do her routines. There were a few routines they published online weeks before, and one that Minju was supposed to compose on her own. Everybody had seemed pleased after she completed the pre-selected routines, but everybody had cheered and clapped when she finished her own. Everybody but one... Eunju.

Even though she felt like she'd nailed every part, the fact that someone on the panel had held their applause made her nervous. She hated to admit it, but Minju really was getting her hopes up for being on the cheerleading team. If she was really good, they might even let her cheer for the football team in her first year, but she had to be truly impressive.

She was ecstatic to get a callback that day, and to be told that practice started that weekend. Y/N told her he knew she'd make it, and that he'd be shocked if they didn't put her on the field with him.

When the Friday before his first game finally came around, Minju rushed home—the first week of school had been crazy. She'd started all of her classes, been really successful at cheer practice and she was really hopeful that she'd make the first team and maybe cheer during one of the earlier football games. She didn't look forward to hearing or seeing Eunju, Minju thought as she pulled in the driveway, but she was out of control excited to spend her first Friday catching up with her brother.

When he entered, there was no noise, no sign of her brother's girlfriend, and the house sounded pretty quiet. She heard a bowl clinking in the kitchen, so she followed the sound inward.

"Hey you, where's your girl?" Minju asked

"She's not coming today," Y/N said, sounding strange.

"Oh...um... is everything okay?" Minju continued, coming up behind her brother and putting a hand gently on his shoulder.

"Yeah," he said, sounding exhausted, "I don't think either of us will be seeing her much anymore."

"Oh no, I'm sorry Oppa, did something happen?"

"Don't worry about it, Minju. I'm not. It was a long time coming, " he said, but she could tell it was wearing on him. Minju draped herself over her brother's muscular shoulders, and she could feel him start to relax. She knew he was upset but was desperate to do anything that would make him feel better.

"How about you can pick the movie tonight? And if you're really lucky I'll even throw in a back-rub."

He knew she would do that anyway, but it made him smile to hear her offer. Y/N always liked that Minju didn't only talk about football with him, especially right before the game. She might ask a few questions about who they were playing, but she didn't get him all anxious the way others might if he didn't hole up at his house. It was just one more reason why he liked being around her so much.

They both had work to do before they could hang out, but around the time it was getting dark and their parents would be meeting after work for their weekly dinner date, Y/N waited for his little sister in the TV room. It had been a long time since they last did this, and he was a little nervous about what might happen since their relationship had progressed.

He had to keep his jaw from dropping when she came bouncing down the stairs, or rather her breasts did. Just as she promised, she was wearing the outfit that she'd tried on right before he went off to training camp months ago. Was it possible that she filled out her bra even better than before, because she certainly looked it? And the pants, hanging like they might fall at any second but for the drawstring around her waist.

This wasn't going to be easy. Now that he didn't have the typical release of spending an hour or so with his girlfriend, spending time with his far hotter little sister seemed like it might not be as easy. It worried him even more as he watched her perfect, round breasts shudder and threaten to escape her struggling bra with each step she took down the stairs.

It was nice to have his eyes on her like that again. Minju hadn't felt so desirable since they'd last had real alone time, and her brother's gaze was more than welcome. Just being in his company and him in hers made the two of them buzz with love for each other and excitement about being together.

"Lie down over here will ya?" Minju asked after they'd been watching the movie and chatting for a while. She could tell he was tense, far more than expected and she just wanted to help.

Y/N obliged, sucking in a breath when he felt his hot little sister straddle him. He was truly glad to be lying face down, because the thought of her perched on top of him in that outfit was driving him nuts. She was actually quite good at massaging him, seeming to know all of the tight spots after doing it many times. Y/N was finally starting to feel a lot better when she'd been doing it no more than a few minutes.

At some point, when Minju was trying hard to get him in the right spots on his back, she shifted over and the back of his leg as pressing against her mound. She hadn't meant to, it had just kind-of...happened. She couldn't help that it felt really good. But as she moved around, pressing her hands into different spots on her brother's muscular back, it just kept arousing her more and more.

Y/N had no idea it was going on either, he was in a sleepy state after how good his sister's hands were making him feel. He heard her breathing heavier, thinking she was just exerting herself as she pressed harder on him.

It never took her very long, especially not when she was really turned on; Minju should have known better. She was just sitting down harder on her brother, leaning into him to 'get more leverage on his back,' or so he might think. Minju didn't know what had gotten into her, but within only a minute or two of feeling her brother's leg pushing against her pussy and her little clit being trapped and stimulated just the way she liked it, she was lost. She had to try hard beyond measure not to make a sound, yet she couldn't stop herself squirming.

It only took a moment, and Minju managed to stay quiet. Her arousal that had built up in the time she spent apart from her brother did the brunt of the work. All it took was a little push, back and forth, of her hips and then suddenly she was clenching her legs. She bit down hard on her lip, desperate not to reveal what she'd just done and feeling embarrassed as a short but powerful orgasm took her.

Y/N came to when he heard his sister take a few sharp breaths atop him. He couldn't see her face, but he would have seen her coming down from her orgasm and trying to catch her breath. Her hands weren't doing much anymore.

"Tired little sis?" He asked.

From the tone of his voice, Y/N didn't know anything. She felt guilty, but Minju thought maybe she could get off without him knowing and without experiencing any of the embarrassment.

"Uh huh," Minju lied. She lifted her hips off of him so he wouldn't feel it if she'd gotten too wet.

"What if I took a turn for a change?" Y/N asked.

It was the only thing Minju could think of to put her out of harm's way, or at least her brother's discovery.

She agreed and laid down on the floor where he'd just been. After cumming, her skin was sensitive and crawling for his touch. Even when his fingers grazed her, Minju could feel it through her whole body. He started slow, and then worked his fingers into the tight spots on her shoulders. His hands felt terrific - big and strong, and a little bit rough from all his hard work.

Maybe Minju didn't know she was doing it, but Y/N absolutely loved the way his little sister was letting out adorable sighs and moans when he touched her just right. Y/N was probably getting just as much enjoyment as his little sis from his touching her.

He wasn't sure why he thought it would be okay, but her bra was simply in the way. In one quick motion, Y/N unclasped his little sister's lacy top. It sprung open and revealed her back to him, and Minju quickly opened an eye to look backward at him. When he didn't offer an explanation, she stayed quiet.

The tension seemed more incredible then, but his hands felt even better. Y/N could see his little sister's tits spreading out from her thin frame as she lay against the floor. He wanted to touch them; he even got close a few times with his fingers. Minju was fully aware of every square inch of her body that he felt: the way his fingers daringly slipped just beneath the waistband of her sweats, or how he grasped the tops of her hips a few times like he wanted to pull her towards him. After only a few moments, both of them were totally turned on, though neither was about to admit it to each other.

If Y/N hadn't seen it, they would have been totally screwed. The flash of headlights shown in the room for only a second.

Their parents had walked in on them watching a movie before, even when Minju was wearing relatively inappropriate clothing. But in the position they were and with Minju's suggestive bra unclasped, it would have looked a bit more...naughty. Minju didn't even know what hit her before she was being scooped up and flipped around into her brother's arms as he took two stairs at a time up to her bedroom.

"Oppa what th...!" Minju gasped as he manhandled her. Her hands darted to the dangling bra that she'd only just managed to hold on to. Then she was twisted around and had her legs wrapped around her brother's wide frame before she could speak another word. As they hit the top of the stairs, she heard her parents at the door.

Y/N dashed into his sister's room and then stood quietly, both of them being very still in their utterly suggestive position. Even in their haste, both siblings could intimately sense Minju's loosely covered breasts against Y/N's chest, and she couldn't be sure, but was something extra trapped between their hips?

"Kids, we're home!" Their mother called out as she came in.

"Up here, be down in a minute!" Y/N called back.

When he was sure they were in the clear, he flopped back onto the bed and took his first deep breath. Minju laughed first; of course, she would find that funny.

"Oh my god that was close!" She said, giggling.

"Well we wouldn't have to be worried if you were still wearing your bra!" Y/N said righteously.

"Um excuse me, I wasn't the one who took it off," Minju said.

By the time they'd reached the bedroom her bra no longer covered either of her breasts. It was still trapped between them, but looking down Y/N could see the full weight of his little sister's chest held between his and hers. They were big and hanging down slightly as she propped herself up to look at her brother. With an adorable and mischievous look on her face, she looked irresistible, perched on top of her brother with both her knees on the bed.

"I didn't mean anything by it, I was just..." he started, obviously not knowing where he was going with it.

Minju smiled at him, "I know you didn't," she said, letting him off the hook. She wiggled her hips playfully as she said it, and Minju was almost positive she could feel her brother's cock tucked up between their two connected hips and at least partially hard. The way it was pressing against Minju right where Y/N definitely shouldn't have been made Minju desperate to know if she was the cause or not. Whatever it was, her brother felt big.

Knowing that their parents would be waiting for them downstairs, Y/N spoke first, breaking the silence caused by the way the two of them lay on Minju's bed.

"You should probably cover those up," he said, half-heartedly looking away.

Minju reached for her bra and finally sat up on top of her brother. For a split second, her breasts were neither covered by her hands or her bra, and Y/N must have seen, because Minju felt her brother throb against her where he was touching below. Not wanting to be captive and helpless to his beautiful sister, or so obviously showing her his affection with his growing stiffness, Y/N reached up to his sister's enticing sides. She was about to inhale profoundly and let him touch her, but instead, he only savored her soft skin for a second before he forcibly tossed her off of him onto the other half of the bed.

"HEY!" she shrieked

"Time to put some clothes on, little sis," Y/N said callously. See you downstairs."

And then he left. She watched him walk out, still holding her arms up to cover her breasts so he didn't see, but a part of Minju wasn't entirely sure she didn't want him to.

This was uncharted territory for Minju and her brother both. As they spent the rest of the night around their parents, both tried hard to wrap their heads around what was going on between them. On one hand, they were still spending time together on Fridays like they always did, laughing and conversing with the same fantastic level of comfort that seemed to make Minju's weekend. And when Y/N woke up in the morning he was smiling and simply glad to have had the time with his baby sis despite the anxiety of a big game ahead.

On the other hand, both siblings had gone to bed thinking of each other in ways that they weren't supposed to. But imagining Minju wearing even less on top of Y/N than just the pair of sweatpants she had been was a dream they both shared that night, 'supposed to' or not.

Just before the game the next day, Minju got an email that she was to attend a different cheerleading practice on Monday. She was going to be cheering on the football field at their home game in two weeks! Minju was ecstatic and wanted badly to tell her brother, but decided to let him focus and wait until after the game.

There was a lot of talk about how the football team would play in their first home game. There was equal coverage of Y/N and how he would perform starting his first full season. Minju was perfectly confident that he would blow the competition away.

And he did... for a time. He started strong, very practiced in every play. They went into the half leading, but Minju's dad wasn't impressed.

"He looks a little off today, don't you think?" said her father.

"You know honey, I noticed that too. What do you think is up?" Minju's mom asked.

She wracked her brain. Suddenly, Minju hoped that the way she'd teased her brother wasn't the cause. She felt guilty all of the sudden. Perhaps it hadn't been fair to him for her to flaunt herself like that. It was selfish. His attention made Minju feel good and she hadn't taken him into account. It was especially bad considering Y/N wasn't with his girlfriend anymore.

"Did you notice anything last night Minju?" Her mother asked.

"No, not really mom. He was just as happy to be home like he usually is." Minju assured them.

And she wasn't lying. Aside from being a bit downtrodden about breaking up with Eunju, he'd been very playful and content with her the night before.

Yet, when he came out for the second half, the same rustiness seemed to be staying with him. Perhaps it was the team. Nobody seemed to be blaming Y/N for the way their offense was playing, but before long they were losing. And then the fourth quarter was nearly over. And then... the whistle blew for the end of game and Y/N's team had not done enough.

He was understandably bummed when they met him on the field after the game.

"Sorry bro," Minju said compassionately, feeling him wrap his arm around her side and walk toward the locker rooms with their parents. She looked cute in her little, team t-shirt, but Y/N wasn't really in the mood to check her out just then.

"Yeah... " he said dejectedly, "I don't know why we couldn't pull that one out... damn."

"Don't beat yourself up too much about it, you promise?" Minju asked, looking up at him hopefully.

"I won't." He said. "Maybe I'll just beat you up."

That elicited a smile from his sister, but Minju could tell his heart wasn't in it. She felt bad for him; he was probably internalizing what was just the whole team's off performance.

"See you soon?" Minju asked, "Next Friday at the latest?"

"...away game," Y/N sighed. "But the week after for sure."

He squeezed Minju's side before breaking contact and saying goodbye to their parents. Minju watched him jog back to the lockers and hoped he wouldn't be depressed about the loss for too long. She hadn't even told him about her cheerleading spot, but that could wait until later when he might be more willing to share in her excitement.

-

That week went by even faster than the last. It was Minju's second week of school and she was loving every minute of it. She only got to sit down to lunch with Y/N once before he was off to the away game, and when she'd told him her news he had been so happy for her. She wished furiously, as he hugged her, that she might someday find somebody who cared about her the way Y/N did.

It turned out that Minju hadn't just been brought onto the football cheerleading team, but she'd replaced someone. Of course, it had to be Eunju. And making the team wasn't the end of it.

"You know you're going to fuck this up right?" Eunju had asked, confronting Minju on the way to class one day that week. Minju wanted nothing more than to get away from her so she just kept walking.

"You don't belong in my spot, you little bitch." Eunju spat, obviously annoyed that Minju didn't intend to engage.

"Oh and tell that second string quarterback you call your brother to enjoy being tended to by his sister instead of his girlfriend... a lotta good that'll do him."

Minju didn't quite understand, but she wouldn't let Eunju talk bad about her brother.

"The only one who's second string here is you... bitch," Minju flung the blonde's words back in her face, "you were NEVER good enough for him. You were just EASY."

With that Minju turned on the path and headed into the Math & Science building. It took her a few minutes to calm down, and almost half the period to stop thinking about what Eunju had said...'tending to her brother.'

-

The away game did not go well. This time, Y/N did look bad. It was like he just couldn't find his stride. He gave up one interception in the first half and one in the second. The rest of the team could have played much better, but they simply didn't have that momentum that everyone had seen driven by the star quarterback. There were whispers that Y/N would be replaced if he kept playing like that, but that's all they were.

There was something that Minju heard in the locker room after cheer practice one day that week that put pieces together for her. It was hard for her to believe, but Eunju, whom she'd overheard, had made some sense.

"You know why he's playing like that?" She'd been gossiping out of sight in another part of the locker room near the showers, "because he doesn't have me."

"Oh come on," another girl on the team, who sounded like Tamara, laughed, "I know you two had your thing, but you weren't exactly throwing the ball for him!"

"Think what you want, but he's the one who insisted that I come over on the day before the game... he said having sex helped him play better."

"Yeah, right," Tamara said, "that's a myth."

"You say that, but we did it before every game last year..." she'd continued, but Minju didn't want to hear it.

No way. No way hooking up with that blonde bimbo before their Friday nights together was helping her brother win.

Minju kept repeating that to herself all week until Friday arrived. But at some point, she didn't believe it anymore. He'd always been so quick to shoo Eunju out the door on Fridays, but he HAD invited her there week after week anyway. And she was right; as far as Minju knew, her brother hadn't been hooking up with anyone else. Minju had only succeeded in teasing her brother with her skimpy clothing, certainly not helping him get any relief. Could it be her fault? It seemed ridiculous.

And then came the next thought - far more questionable than the last. Who was going to 'tend to her brother' now that she couldn't expect Eunju to do it before she came home that Friday? As far as she knew, Minju would be the only girl around, the only one Y/N was technically allowed to see. He could start seeing another girl, but she knew her brother, and he didn't just start sleeping with somebody because he needed to get some ass.

The thought that it might be up to Minju to... relieve him... and more so than just giving a back massage seemed crazy to her. Y/N would never go for it. They were brother and sister; no way! Minju thought.

But by the time she arrived home on Friday, Minju had debated with herself a thousand times about it. She'd been hinting at her brother toward something for a long time, always knowing that he'd never cross the line with her. But what if she told him it was okay to? She'd sensed that he was hard that one day on her bed. She'd seen him looking. She'd felt his hands touching her back in ways a brother wasn't supposed to after he'd unhooked her bra. What if he wanted something, and she was just naive or self-centered? What if it was way easier than she was making it out to be.

Y/N could tell something was up with his sister when he got home, despite her pretending.

"Do you know how excited I am to see you on the sideline tomorrow Minju'?" he asked, eliciting a massive smile from his sister.

The way she looked right then was how he wanted to picture her always. A big smile, flashing her teeth because she couldn't help herself. A cute, white tank-top, comfortable little shorts and her body language telling him that she'd been waiting to see him all week. It was crazy that they didn't see each other more often, going to the same school and all, but they were just so busy with the beginning of the school year and their respective activities. Seeing her now, with that radiating energy she carried with her everywhere she went, her perfect breasts stretching the neckline of her top, and legs that went on forever... he wondered why he didn't find the time.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Are you kidding," she said confidently, "I was ready for this since your first game."

"I knew it," Y/N said, "good because I don't need anyone else messing up out there on the field." He sounded somewhat anxious.

How on earth was Minju going to bring this up? By that point, she'd imagined and even gotten excited about the possibility of doing something for her older brother that his girlfriend might have done behind his bedroom door upstairs. She'd wondered what his cock might look like in her hand, what she would do with it if she got it there. Would he find her attractive enough to get hard. Minju had felt a boy before, even had one in her mouth once when she got a little too drunk, but the thought of doing that with her brother made her heart flutter. It made her shift in her seat and feel an unexpected tingling between her thighs.

Yet, she was hopelessly lost on how to propose it. It would be just for his benefit so he could play better the next day... She only wanted to help him win...

"I feel really bad," Minju started. I was always so mean to Eunju, and now I've taken her spot on the team."

Minju told her brother about the day Eunju had confronted her on the quad. She conveniently omitted the part about 'tending to him,' but he seemed impressed with his little sister's defense.

"Yeah, don't worry about her, Minju'. She's probably just mad at me and taking it out on you,"

"For breaking up with her?" Minju asked.

"Well, that... and I might have had something to do with you taking her spot."

"YOU DIDN'T?" Minju cried, fearful that she hadn't deserved the advance.

"No, no, no!" he stopped her, "it's nothing like that. I discovered she was intentionally sabotaging your chance of making the field team. A couple of your teammates told me she was talking shit to the coaches and voting against you for no reason."

"So what did you do?" Minju asked, hanging on his words.

"Well...I might have told the coaches that Eunju was making it personal." Minju was squeezing her brother's arm tightly as he leaned over the table. "I guess they agreed because pretty much the next day, I found out they had replaced her with you!"

Minju's mouth was agape. She had no idea.

"Don't worry about it, Minju. My spies told me that everybody wanted you on the field team, and this wasn't the first time that Eunju had created drama. Apparently, it was time for her to go, and they were waiting for someone talented enough to help them go through with it."

"I don't know what to say... Oppa..." Minju hesitated before throwing her arms around her brother and kissing him a few times on the neck.

"Thank you," she kissed him, "thank you, thank you, thank you."

Minju giggled as her brother tried to shrug her off.

"Alright, already," he said, feeling that he liked his little sister's kisses more than he should have.

If Minju thought she owed her brother something before, now she was overcome with the desire to repay him. Not only had he been spending time with her on Friday nights and being the perfect brother, but there was more. He'd gone to bat for her with the cheerleading team, risked losing his girlfriend, and then eventually lost her and any of the physical aspects that came with... all for his little sister. Her handsome, strong, and unflinchingly loving brother, Minju, was enamored as she looked at him.

Yet, it took her until hours later, when he was lying face-down in his usual spot on the carpet in the living room before she could build up the confidence to say anything. Feeling guilty, Minju hadn't changed into anything more revealing. Unbeknown to her, Y/N had been drooling over her since the minute he'd walked in the door. But now, she wondered if she should have put something on to make him more agreeable.

"Oppa," she said timidly, straddling his back. "can I ask you something?"

"Duh," he joked, his face pressed halfway into the carpet.

Minju paused. Her heart had been beating faster in anticipation of this moment, but now it felt like it might explode.

"I heard something... the other day..." she started.

"... yes?" Y/N prodded

"I heard some girls talking about you..." she continued. Y/N could hear the concern in her voice, so he maneuvered quite impressively under his sister's straddled position and faced her. She looked enticing with her legs spread right over his lap and her shorts bunched up even higher on her tanned legs. Y/N thought immediately that he might have made a mistake now that his manhood was getting the full brunt of the eighteen-year-old's sexiness.

"...and...what did they say?" Y/N felt like he was dragging it out of her.

"They seemed to think you weren't playing well because... you weren't..." Minju hesitated again, seeing her brother look up at her impatiently.

"...getting any."

Y/N laughed. It was a standard theory. Y/N somewhat believed the sentiment himself; that's why he'd always asked Eunju over to the house before he expected to hang out with his little sister, who would inevitably be tempting him throughout the night. Of course, people at school would speculate that his breakup with Eunju was causing him some issues.

"So what, you're wondering if it's true? If Eunju is the reason I'm not playing well? I bet she's the one you heard saying that in the first place, right?"

Minju paused for so long that he had to shake her hips with his hands to get her to speak.

"Well, yes, but that's not it. " Now for the hardest part. Again, she paused.

"Come on, Minju', spit it out!"

"I thought that, maybe... you know... I could help you if you needed."

At first, Y/N didn't say a word. His brain seemed to go numb with disbelief. His first reaction was to look at her, his gorgeous little sister, perched right on his lap. He couldn't believe she was suggesting it, even if he'd been secretly lusting for her. What was she telling, that he just do what he wanted with her... take off that tiny tank top of hers and reveal her small, naked body to him like he'd imagined. Both of them felt his cock throb beneath Minju's seated butt.

"Minju... I... we..." he stuttered, "No way, we shouldn't... I mean, we can't."

Minju had no idea what to expect. Her daydreams had all gone so much differently. One way, she'd imagined him simply flipping her over and tugging off her bottoms. She'd never had sex before, but he could fix that in one steady stroke, and she'd wanted it so bad. In another, she'd sucked on him in the kitchen right when he came in, convincing him that she needed to do it so he could win. In all of her scenarios, even now, Minju had trouble admitting that she wanted him and hoped that he wanted her, too. And now it seemed that he didn't.

"I didn't mean...I just thought that you might need it," she said, trailing off, disheartened, into a whisper.

Y/N didn't know what to say to her. He struggled not to let the image of his little sister being on top of him in a much different way enter his mind. He worried that she could feel him stiffening through his shorts that he would send her a different message when he needed to be simply saying no.

"I'm sorry," Minju said quietly, "I wasn't thinking, it was stupid."

There was this long exchange where the two looked into each other's eyes. In a moment that should have been uncomfortable or strange, they made a connection that shouldn't have been there after Y/N's reaction. Minju could feel that Y/N was trying to do the right thing. She hadn't thoroughly thought through what she was asking of him. Once again, she was being unfair.

"I'm gonna shower before Mom and Dad get home," she said after not too long. Do you want to eat all of that pie Mom left in the fridge before they do?" she asked, trying to lighten the mood.

Y/N smiled sideways, "I'll have it ready when you get back,"

With that, Minju lifted herself off her brother, unsure whether to be disappointed or glad they hadn't crossed a very unsteady line. She scampered up the stairs, not wanting to look back at her brother and give away that she wished he'd chosen differently and didn't just want to help. She wanted him.

Y/N lay his head back in the same spot on the carpet. What was he thinking? He wanted her... he wanted Minju so badly. He'd spent countless nights leading up to that, either falling asleep thinking about her or dreaming of her in ways he'd feel guilty for in the morning. He'd wanted to see her naked little body, put his hands on the breasts that were incredibly generous for her frame, hold her hips as he discovered how tight she was... Now she was offering him a free pass, and he was just going to turn it down?

He knew that she had been so disappointed; that was the worst part. He kept seeing her face when he'd first said no: it had changed immediately from one of apprehension and hopefulness to complete embarrassment. How could he do that to her? She just wanted to help! He had to smooth things over, at the very least.

Y/N didn't know how long he lay there, but eventually, he built up the courage to talk to her and practically ran up the stairs. He wasn't thinking, opening the door behind which he'd heard the shower running in one swift motion,

"Minju, I didn't mean I didn't want you to; I just..." but then he stopped.

Minju was just bending over to take off her shorts. She was wearing an incredible pair of panties, cute, purple, and lacy, but only that. She was topless, and now that her shorts were off, nearly bottomless as well. Minju quickly covered her breasts with her arm, but her brother had seen them unclothed.

It took him too long to realize that he was staring or had stopped in the middle of a sentence. He'd never seen Minju entirely so revealed to him; he hadn't been prepared. Y/N's brain searched for words, but it seemed entirely too focused on what his little sister looked like in front of him and what it made him want of her.

Minju had not expected him either. She had wanted to take a shower because she simply felt... dirty after asking if her brother wanted 'help' and then being denied. But now he was there. He was staring at her shamelessly, and whether he knew it or not, he fully hardened in the time it took him to gather his wits.

"Minju I came to tell you..." he started, watching his little sister walk towards him and stop but a foot away.

"Shhhh," she said. "you don't have to say anything."

Minju removed her hand from her chest and watched her big brother's eyes widen. She was giving him an uninhibited view of her breasts; she knew that he'd wanted it badly.

"It's okay Oppa," she said. He took it as permission to look at her, up and down. He took in every inch that he could see, from the beautiful tits she was baring for him, to the perfect, little pink nipples that graced them. He saw her abs, strong and smooth, the way her sides curved to her soft-yet-thin hips. He longed to know what she looked like without those adorable bottoms on, but hadn't he come in to say something to her? At the moment it felt like he was just there to look.

"It's okay Oppa," Minju repeated, "you can touch me." She took his hands and brought them just below her chest. He grasped her, making it clear that he didn't expect to let go. Minju guided his hands upward over each tit before letting him do it on his own. His eyes rolled when he finally got his hands on them.

Minju surprised him with a kiss. She'd leaned in while he was distracted and planted it on his lips. Firm and knowing, it lingered for a few, meaningful seconds. Upon breaking, Minju slowly bent at the knees.

She held on to her brother as her knees made contact with the thick bathmat in front of the sink. Carefully, watching him, she pulled the waistband of his sweats over his cock. He did not protest.

She knew he didn't wear underwear beneath them! Minju thought victoriously. 'But ohmygod was he more than I was prepared for,' Minju thought. Perhaps she'd had some idea that he was big, but her brother's cock was much more than she'd seen before. It looked like she could hold it with two hands.

So she did, watching her brother intently the whole time, Minju gently moved her hands toward him. As they slid up his thick quads and lingered an inch or two away, Y/N's cock throbbed in anticipation; he needed her to touch him.

That made Minju smile wide. It was comforting; he wanted her. Seeing his little sister happy to finally take hold of him, Y/N felt like this was what he had truly come upstairs for.

"Minju'" he breathed, unbelieving that her hands were now wrapped around him.

Again she smiled and held him firmly. The contented little teen slid her hands up and then down, watching how the surface of his shaft followed the path of her grip. Y/N thought she was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen with the look of pure wonder and excitement on her face.

A couple times she slid her hands intently back and forth. He was so warm; Minju could feel the flowing heat in his penis. Every stroke or so she could feel a throb in his cock, and by look on his face it must have felt good. The fluttering feeling in Minju's tummy returned with intensity each second that their eyes held. Her hopes had been only temporarily dashed. It was hard to believe that she'd come this far, but clear to Minju that she was glad her brother was finally in her hands.

"Am I doing okay," Minju asked him sweetly, lovingly and wide-eyed.

"God Minju', yeah... is this... are you sure..." He was never lost for words, Minju thought.

"It's okay Oppa," she assured him, "I'm just helping you for the game tomorrow. You can relax."

It was a lie, but somehow pretending it was just this once aroused both Minju and her brother. As if they could just pretend tomorrow on the field that Minju, the cheerleader, had not taken new duties to relieve the quarterback the night before.

Minju had begun moving her hands around differently, she was gracing the skin around him with light touches and then testing his tip with firmer ones. Her brother flinched when she ran her palm carefully over his head and closed her fingers over it. It didn't seem enough to her, yet it was Y/N who spoke first.

"Minju, ohgodMinju...will you put it in your mouth?" he asked.

Minju was stunned. And yet, he was used to calling the shots; it was good to know he was playing along. It made her feel sexy to hear her brother finally asking for more.

Minju shook her head 'yes.'

It seemed like the right move. Perhaps he would do better, play better, tomorrow if Minju were to take his cock into her mouth. Perhaps that, or maybe he simply wanted his beautiful little sister to go a bit further. In truth, he wanted to take her up to her feet, set her on the vanity and remove her cute panties to see what she hid underneath. He could line up and ask her if she wanted to...

"Oh fuck Minju," Y/N let out involuntarily. She'd pushed him inward past her lips and was swirling her tongue around his tip amazingly. "your mouth feels so good sis."

Minju would have smiled if her brother wasn't a few inches in. She had to open her mouth wide to fit him, but the mischievous little brunette was determined to make her brother cum. She wanted to be better than his girlfriends, than anyone he'd been with before. She didn't know that she had already surpassed that with her alluring beauty, and that being his little sister was going to bring him to orgasm even faster.

Minju continued sucking on him. She couldn't fit the whole thing in her mouth, perhaps not even half. Yet her sincere attempt had Y/N wanting her more than ever. Hadn't he been so dedicated to holding them back only minutes ago? But here he was loving every second that his little sister was stroking her hands up and down while she bobbed her mouth upon his tip, about to release.

"If you keep doing that...mmmnnhh... I'm gonna cum Minju," he warned her.

"Oh yeah?" she asked innocently after popping her mouth of him with a slurp.

"Are you gonna cum for me Oppa? Is your little sister gonna make you cum?"

He could only groan. Minju leaned close and licked the head just under his tip once again, twice, sending hurtling to the edge.

"Cum on my tits Oppa, it's okay...please, I want you to." She said, pushing him over. He looked down at her in disbelief and deep affection and she held his gaze, not looking away for a second.

The 18-year-old jerked him intently as his breaths got very heavy and then he took a single, sharp inhale. His eyes closed, and his cock throbbed perceptively against her palms. She sat up to direct him right at her youthful breasts, but not before taking the tip of her brother's penis in her mouth right as she felt the first pump on the underside of his shaft.

Minju didn't stop moving her hands as the first shot splashed against her tongue. It was hot, plentiful and he was only just starting to release when she popped his tip out of her mouth and pointed him toward her proud teenage breasts. Each stroke elicited another pulse of his white sperm onto her chest. It was the most amazing thing she'd ever felt; Minju savored every stretch of her skin that he covered.

Y/N was treated with the view of his topless little sister grinning naughtily as he winced and let out the last of what she was squeezing from him. His brain, teetered on the verge of consciousness as he watched the young brunette swallow the first taste of sperm she'd daringly taken into her mouth. Minju felt as if she'd gotten everything she wanted, and the messy tops of her breasts and wet streaks of her brother's cum up to her neck were evidence of that.

God was she beautiful, and she'd been a perfect little sister, just helping out her big brother when she knew he needed it. For a moment, they simply stayed as they were, breathing heavily and taking in the forbidden sight of a little sister splashed with her brother's cum, almost to the point of disbelief. Y/N took one of Minju's hands from his shaft and pulled her up to her pretty feet. Her other hand slid gently off of him, stimulating him one last time before falling to her side.

He wanted to say how much he loved her... that he wanted her to know how good she'd done and that she could ask anything of him, even if it was to never do that again. But that wasn't what either of them wanted, and he couldn't say it all at once so he said it with a kiss. Pulling her face toward his, feeling her silky brown hair between his fingers, he kissed her.

Was this just once? Would they wake up tomorrow and decide that it had been simply a crazy, impulsive thing that had happened and didn't need to happen again? It didn't feel that way when her brother's tongue was asking permission at her lips. She gave it with the touch of her own, and for a moment they kissed like lovers... for a moment.

"I better take a shower," said Minju, pulling away from him and watching the look of surprise on her brother's face. "I've got to clean off all this sticky stuff before mom and dad get home. You sure cum a lot big brother." She finished, running a finger over one gleaming rope and the testing it against her tongue.

Minju's mother had taught her to always make a boy work for her affection. She doubted that her mom had intended her 18-year-old to use it so effectively on her brother whose spunk now covered her breasts, but nonetheless... Y/N was left wanting more.

"Do you think that will help Oppa?" She asked blamelessly with that nickname he'd hated until now. It sounded more like she had just finished a backrub and not sucking her brother's cock. She let him take a good look at her before turning towards the shower.

"Minju, you are unbelievable..." he said, still in shock and still incredibly hard.

She knew she'd done well. Everything he said, everything his eyes and body told her verified it. The proud brunette walked to the still-running water, leaving her brother there to gather his pants. As one last tease, she seductively slid her bottoms over her pushed-out butt as if she'd forgotten Y/N was still in the room.

"I can't get enough of you sis," he said as he realized she intended for him to let her shower alone.

She smiled one last time as she stood back up. Her little pink lips teased him through the darkened gap between her thighs. The room wasn't brightly lit enough and he cursed it, wishing to truly know what Minju's young opening looked like.

"And to think..." Minju led him, "there's so much more."

She bit the side of her pouty, bottom lip before stepping in the shower and pulling back the curtain. Y/N would dream that night of what he might have done if she had invited him in.

[cerisereids]

𝗛𝗮𝘀𝗵 𝗕𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗻, 𝗘𝗴𝗴 𝗬𝗼𝗹𝗸, 𝗜 𝗪𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗔𝗹𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗬𝗼𝘂- 𝗦.𝗥.

Pairing- mom!reader x s18!Spencer Reid

WC- just under 1k

Summary- Spencer enjoys a quiet moment with his wife and child. If he would have known 20 years ago he’d ever be so happy, he would’ve laughed hysterically.

Contains- just a bunch of dad!Spencer fluff, one super quick Maeve mention, Spencer being the best dad ever, not proofread we die like men

A/N- divider from @thecutestgrotto!

Spencer Reid, an accomplished man of three PHDs, is on cleanup duty. The sleeves of his linen pajamas are rolled up to the elbow, his hand gripping a wet dish cloth. It's just as well, really. Cooking with a three year old activates his need to clean immensely.

"Do you want to crack the eggs?" his wife asked, gripping two white ovals in her dexterous fingers. The sight alone is enough to make his stomach turn, let alone the idea of his baby girl trying to not get shells in the egg mixture. He loves them both with everything in him. That doesn't mean he's confident in their coordination.

"Yeah!" She yells in excitement. He can't help but smile, despite his anxiety.

"Alright, you have to be really careful. No shells in the bowl now, got it?" She holds up a finger to baby Diana's chubby face, slowly handing off an egg.

Diana is oh so careful. Her two chubby hands cradle the egg, balancing it in her right hand. She hits it once, twice against the counter, a bubbly shriek spilling from her lips when it cracks.

Spencer's heart swells at the two loves of his life, working so hard on making the perfect Sunday breakfast. They have the same crease of concentration between their eyebrows. The sight feels like the sun has taken home in his chest, warming him from the inside out.

"Good job! Now crack it over the bowl!" His wife instructs, and she pulls apart the shell, the gooey liquid sloshing in the bowl.

"No shells!" She squeaks, a fierce look of pride on her face.

"Atta girl!" Spencer holds his hand up for a high five, his wife's hand running up and down her back. She kisses Diana's head before cracking another one, giving Diana the last one.

He grabs a fork, whisking the eggs together as his two girls move on to the pancake batter. His wife pours powdered Bisquick in the bowl, giving Diana measuring cups full of milk to pour in.

She approaches Spencer, sleep still lingering in her eye. Her hands graze his waist as she passes, whispering a soft, "Do you want some coffee?" in his ear.

"Please," he nods, placing a chaste kiss on her lips before she goes.

He moves to his baby girl next, his hands wrapping around her soft tummy. She's still little enough for both his hands to fit all the way around her. That won't be for long, though he tries not to think about it. The way she sprouts up gives him at least ten gray hairs a day.

"Daddy look!" She squeals, ever so proud of her work. "Pancakes!" She claps her hands in excitement, splaying powder as she did.

Spencer sneezes at the contact, and a peel of giggles spill from her lips.

"Dada!" She gasps between laughs. Spencer can't help it, he laughs too.

"Diana, was that silly?" He asks, pressing his lips to her head.

"Yes! So silly Dad!" she throws a hand up to her face, like she can't even help herself.

She's too much, so much that he scoops her up, long fingers digging into her tummy in a vicious tickle. She screams even louder, her giggles multiplying in speed and pitch.

"What is going on over there?!" His wife asks as the coffee begins percolating. The strong earthy scent fills the kitchen, easing his uncaffeinated system.

"Daddy is being too silly!" Diana breathes as Spencer slows his attack.

"He loves to be silly, he's good at that. Don't fall for it, he'll still get you!" She waves a spatula at Diana, who just snuggles into him.

He watches his wife, the early morning light filtering through the kitchen window. It cloaks her in a golden haze, like their own personal angel.

Spencer gets a quick flash of the past 20 years, of everything that's led to this moment. Joining the bureau, his eventual decision to leave, accepting a linguistics position at Georgetown, meeting the prettiest European literature professor, his wedding and the birth of Diana...he's baffled.

He thought love like this only existed for other people. He'd seen his colleagues earn it and lose it, seen them grieve and celebrate. He'd learned to be fine without it, especially after Maeve. He just accepted he was one of those people it didn't happen to, that he was always meant to be alone. He'd seen the beauty in it, the freedom in doing whatever he pleased.

It was all well and good, but the love that fills his kitchen now is thick, sticky and sweet. It fills him up like warm cocoa. His wife reaches out for the two of them, wrapping them both in her arms as far as they'll let her. For the first time in his life, Spencer Reid is truly content.

[megwritesriddles]

Sweetest Nectar ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Fem! Reader / You

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

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

Word count: 11.1k

all fandom masterlist | hp masterlist | read it on ao3

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

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

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you,” you whisper shyly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, you… saved me,” you shrug.

“Saved seems dramatic,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Loads,” you sigh into his t-shirt.

“I do too,”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hogwarts is a total perv,”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

hey you! want to get tagged in my work when it comes out? click here! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

xoxoxo

[kxsagi]

Hii can I request a reader that is always loud, laughing, joking (darkest and driest jokes) but actually serious and responsible in work, like she’s always being silly, but suddenly getting serious when it’s come to her assignment, feel free to do with any BLLK characters but can you include Karasu and Yukimiya?

Thank you so much ily 🥰🔥

“𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬, 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐜𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬”

a/n: OKAY THIS READER DESCRIPTION IS SPOT-ON ME, LIKE THIS IS LITERALLY ME

anon are you on my alt??? 

ft. karasu tabito, yukimiya kenyu, isagi yoichi, kaiser michael, mikage reo, itoshi rin, itoshi sae

karasu tabito

the first time he met you, he genuinely thought you were a walking meme compilation. you were doing a deadpan reenactment of your funeral, complete with “my last words will be ‘sybau’ while laying on the floor like you were auditioning for a broadway tragedy. karasu’s like “yo... what is wrong with her 💀” “nothing, what’s wrong with you for being alive during my performance?” his soul left his body. instant love. 

but the day he saw you working for the first time? jaw-dropped. you were elbows-deep in paperwork, planner color-coded, firing off deadlines, and actually emailing people back like a normal adult? you even hit him with a “can’t talk right now. i’m working.” in the most monotone, CEO voice ever. karasu just blinked like, “… where did my unhinged girlfriend go???” 

he finds the contrast sexy as hell. like yes, joke about your own funeral, but also please help him organize his taxes because he hasn’t done that in three years. 

he will literally follow you around going, “say something messed up” like a fanboy just to hear you hit him with another “if i got run over, would you keep the pieces as a souvenir?” 

sometimes he gets whiplash. you’ll be laughing at a meme, and then suddenly turn to him with “babe, did you turn in your PR proposal? the deadline’s 3PM JST.” and he’s like, “how did you– bro i forgot that even existed…” 

yukimiya kenyu

he thought you were deranged at first. you met at a charity gala, and you made a joke about "selling your soul to capitalism, but at least doing it ethically.” he laughed, but cautiously. like you were a tiger in clown makeup. but then you were laughing so hard at your own joke, and the way you wheezed like an old radiator made him soft. 

what really made him fall, though, was seeing how responsible you were behind all the dry jokes. you handled all the event logistics like it was second nature, emailing sponsors, correcting billing issues, and still cracking the occasional “if i die from stress, make sure my ghost finishes the job” in your corpse-dry voice. yukimiya was like, “wait… so she’s the brains and the chaos???” 

he’s a bit of a perfectionist, so he really respects your ability to flip the switch. when he’s spiraling about a brand deal or a photoshoot, you’re the one who calmly reminds him that “you’ve already survived worse. remember when your hair got fried in that one ad? and you still slayed.” 

he listens. because underneath the sarcasm and your “i hope the earth explodes” humor, you always get things done. 

the two of you are basically opposites: he’s elegant, poised, and a little dramatic; you’re loud, meme-obsessed, and unfiltered until it matters. he thinks you’re the perfect balance of chaotic good and responsible queen. “i love that you’re insane, but i also love that you scare HR with how efficient you are.” 

isagi yoichi

his first impression: “she’s hilarious, but needs to be monitored at all times.” you were making jokes about tax evasion and pretending to haunt people through google docs. “i wrote ‘i’m behind you’ in size 2 font at the bottom of every spreadsheet.” “WHY.” 

but when the blue lock PR team asked someone to help manage the team’s community outreach campaign, you went full commander mode. suddenly spreadsheets, schedules, polite corporate emails, and you booked everyone’s appointments like a pro. isagi was SHOCKED. “wait, you’re actually a professional???” “i am literally linkedin-certified. don’t play with me.” 

isagi now just lets you talk your insane talk as long as you walk the walk (which you always do). but he does sometimes worry when you casually say things like “if this deadline kills me, cremate my body and mix it into office coffee.” “love. are you okay?” “no, but i’m still doing my job better than everyone else.” 

kaiser michael

at first, he thought you were annoying. too loud. too sarcastic. too many disturbing jokes. until one day he caught you managing your own press schedule, negotiating deals over the phone like a shark, and drafting a marketing deck for your brand in the same breath as “haha if i get hit by a bus at least make sure it’s a mercedes.” 

kaiser’s respect for you skyrocketed. because that’s his energy – joking around, acting like he doesn’t care – but being a monster at your craft? that’s how you earn his interest. now he just follows you around like a smug little bodyguard. “you’re a menace. and you’d probably make a million dollars scamming me in a powerpoint.” 

when you two work together on anything serious, it’s absolute power couple energy. he’ll be leaning against your desk like, “are you done being hot and responsible?” and you’ll deadpan, “no. but your face is delaying my work productivity.” 

mikage reo

honestly? he was enchanted from day one. you were cracking jokes like “if i win the lottery, i’m investing it in haunted dolls,” while organizing a full event on your phone and replying to work emails with scary speed. reo watched with his jaw dropped like “are you even real???” 

he’s used to people who joke around, but flake out. you are the rare breed that jokes harder and works harder. he finds your duality fascinating. you’ll clown someone to their face and then finish your budget projections by 3 AM. “how do you have so much chaotic energy and still have a retirement plan?” 

reo is obsessed with your balance. he calls you “joker boss” because you’re both unhinged and terrifyingly capable. he’ll 100% show you off at events like, “yeah, she made our whole business plan… while doing a bit about eating drywall.” 

itoshi rin

you physically hurt him. not because you hit him, but because the first time you met, you made a joke so vile and deadpan, he choked on air and stared at you like you were a walking red flag in human form. something like: “i hope the company burns down, but like... on a friday so we don’t have to work monday either.” “what the actual f–” 

he genuinely thought you were an unserious clown. like the kind he’d never tolerate. until one day during a group project, everyone was slacking off and joking around… and suddenly, you flipped into hyper-efficient, eyes-glinting, do-it-or-die mode. you whipped out a laptop, started outlining deliverables, assigning tasks, and saying terrifying things like “i’ve already emailed the supervisor your excuses. now pick up the slack.” rin was stunned. aroused. slightly afraid. 

now he just watches you in silence whenever you’re in your serious mode, trying so hard not to look impressed. but then you break the tension by going, “anyway. if i die tomorrow, bury me in a blazer and tell god i was productive.” and rin's brain just short circuits again. he thinks you're mentally unwell. he's also never been in love like this. 

you actually motivate him. he’s already serious about his career, but you’re the only one who outworks him and makes him laugh like a man losing brain cells. 

sometimes he hears you laughing at your own jokes at night and just sighs into the pillow like, “she’s so weird.” then goes back to cuddling you tighter because you’re his weird. 

itoshi sae

sae heard your laugh before he ever saw you. loud. wild. from the gut. he turned around like “who let a maniac in here?” then you walked past him saying something like, “if i disappear, tell my manager i ascended. into the void.” he watched you leave and muttered, “what the fuck...” 

but the next time he saw you, you were on a work call, serious voice on, notebook open, calling shots and speaking like the CEO of a fortune 500 company. and when the call ended? you dropped your pen, leaned back, and went: “anyway, if this job doesn’t kill me, i will.” sae almost choked on his drink. 

this man is dry. so dry. but you? your humor is even drier, darker, and more sarcastic than his, and it physically pains him to laugh at your jokes. like the one time you said, “my toxic trait is being really responsible while secretly hoping society collapses.” “... that’s so stupid.” but then he’s laughing five hours later on the team bus because of what you said. 

he secretly loves watching you flip from “chronically online chaos gremlin” to “scary competent adult.” he’ll watch from a corner, drink in hand, smirking while muttering, “they’re not ready for her. poor bastards.” 

you stress him out when you’re too funny during serious moments though. “sae, if you die mid-game, can i have your bugatti?” “no, and i’m blocking you when i haunt you.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[dissolved-g1rl]

༻ ♡ ༺

He’s never considered himself to be a religious man. Not in the 40’s and certainly not now. Though….he does feel the slight guilt when he’s with you. Like there really is a big man above wagging his finger because he’s dating a twenty something year old. Dating as a centurion just feels icky. Like touching something sticky, or stepping on a wad of gum. Even the word “boyfriend” makes him cringe. He’s far past the stage of “boy” and he’s sure it makes people expect some college aged brat, and not well…him. He’s a congressman now, dating at his age is…embarrassing to say the least. He feels less embarrassed when you’re giving him kisses and attention, irrelevant. You got carded when he took you out, carded, he didn’t get checked—well he did just in a judgy sort of way.

He would’ve courted you if he had gotten the chance. Would’ve asked your parents for permission and picked you up to go out to the theatre or to a carnival. Though things never seem to work out the way he wants. He’s rubbing your back as you lie on his chest scrolling on your phone, taking the time to show him something silly that made you laugh. The little tank top you’re wearing isn’t jarring, he’s gotten used to 21st century fashion. Still, he knows, had this been his early twenties it would really make his head spin. You regularly keep him on his toes.

He sighs, which makes you look up at him. “okay?” You ask, he smooths your hair down and nods. “Fine, little sleepy.” He murmurs, getting you to lay your head back down. “You wanna go to sleep?” You ask and he shakes his head, he feels like an old man enough, he doesn’t need a bedtime. You go back to lying down and he feels like a worm again. The softness and smoothness of your skin, god, you aren’t even calloused. Just never worked a day in your life have you? He wants to make sure you never have to. You’re not some midlife crisis, he’s ready to ride or die. Both probably soon, he doesn’t worry about it that much anymore, you’ve done a lot to ease his worries. He’s knows you aren’t a baby, you’re a modern lady, and he’s trying to be your modern man.

credit to @cursed-carmine for dividers

[lazysoulwriter]

I already had the book. - pedro pascal. ── .✦

requested! thank you. ♡ content: Pedro Pascal x reader, slow burn fluff, bookstore romance, soft obsession, mutual pining, bookworm energy, silly excuses, months-long buildup, eventual confession, cozy domestic ending.

—

You noticed him the second he walked in.

Not because he was Pedro Pascal — though, yes, that too — but because he looked just slightly lost. That quiet, wandering kind of lost, like someone who wanted to be found but wouldn’t say it out loud.

You kept shelving. He wandered closer. Pretended to inspect a table of fiction paperbacks, eyes flicking up to you every few seconds.

“Can I help you find something?” you asked, smile soft.

He cleared his throat, voice lower in real life than you expected. “Uh. Yeah. Actually. I was hoping you could recommend something.”

You stepped down from the stool and crossed toward him, brushing your hands on your skirt out of nervous habit. “What do you usually like?”

He scratched the back of his neck. “Honestly, I’ll read anything if it comes with a good pitch.”

So you gave him one — a novel you loved, the kind that stuck to your ribs. You explained the plot in a few sentences, then trailed off with, “It’s weird, but it’s warm. And I don’t know, it feels like a late-night conversation with someone you trust.”

He blinked. Smiled. “You’re good at that.”

“At what?”

“Making a book sound like a person I want to know.”

You looked away, heat blooming in your cheeks. “I’ll ring it up for you.”

What you didn’t know: he already owned a copy. First edition. Dog-eared. Highlighted.

But he bought it again anyway, just so he had a reason to come back.

The next week, he was back.

“I finished it.”

You looked up from the register, blinking in surprise. “Already?”

“I’m a fast reader. Plus, you made it sound like falling in love.”

You swallowed hard. “Did you like it?”

“Loved it. Got anything else that’ll wreck my heart a little?”

You stared at him, unable to keep from smiling. “You’re really asking for that?”

“From you? Always.”

—

It became a routine.

Every week, he came in. Asked for a recommendation. Bought it without hesitation. Sometimes lingered by the counter a little longer than necessary, asking you questions about the author, your thoughts, if you’d ever write one yourself.

You started looking forward to his visits. Dressing a little differently on Tuesdays. Wearing the perfume you liked. Recommending your favorites — not just what sold well.

He never said anything… but you caught the way his eyes lingered when you laughed. How he always leaned in to listen, like your voice was a secret.

—

Six weeks in, he finally asked.

“So… if I asked for a recommendation that wasn’t a book… like, a good restaurant for a date… would you go with me?”

You blinked.

“I mean. With me,” he added quickly, already flustered. “Not just give a rec. I—I’d like to take you out. If you want that.”

You tried not to smile too wide. “I’d love that.”

—

Three months later.

You were curled on his couch, a blanket tucked over your knees, reading something he swore you’d love. He returned from the kitchen with tea, then sat down beside you — eyes crinkled, a little too proud of himself.

“What?”

He shrugged. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

He set down the tea, leaned into you, and whispered: “I already had half those books.”

You looked up. “What?”

“First one you gave me? Already owned it. The second one? Read it twice. I just—”

“You what?”

“I just wanted a reason to talk to you.”

You stared at him.

“Pedro…”

“I know, I know, pathetic—”

“No,” you said, setting your book aside and crawling into his lap, “romantic.”

He kissed you slow. Like he had all the time in the world now.

And he did.

Later, he picked up the first book you ever recommended and smiled at the cover like an old friend.

“You made this one better.”

—

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

—

taglist: @sarahhxx03 @lloydmustache @lolareadsimagines @greenwitchfromthewoods @silksepia @pascalswiftie @itstokyo-cos @mani-pedro @llsister @authorbriannarae13 @introvrtedjellyfish @aj0elap0l0gist @spencercmlover @cixrosie @cherrqbaby @cup-half-full-of-anxiety @kellyxo1 @freakbobcult @sunlightpleasure@barnes70stark @mooniscrying @ohnaurshayla @croissantbakerylws @nellispunk @kasienka @taylorswiftsrep-blog @emerencedaily @byzyz @noovaarq @kristend512 @alltounwell @libbyaller @beaagiannelli

[junezsq]

so obvious

harry james potter x fem!reader

summary: hermione has always been smart, but you never would’ve thought she’d so quickly figure out who you have a crush on… or were you just being really obvious?

warnings: none!

word count: 1.2k

a/n: p2 of my short 3 part yule ball series!!! i’m so excited to get to the last part you guys have no idea what’s in store xx

── ᵎᵎ ✦

you had always found peace in the hogwarts library, the steady hum of distant whispers and the comforting scent of old parchment enveloping you. the warmth of the room was a stark contrast to the chilly late autumn evening outside, and you couldn’t help but appreciate the cozy atmosphere as you sat hunched over your history of magic essay.

hermione was beside you, quill flying across her paper, writing faster than you could keep up. you had always admired her dedication to getting everything perfect, but tonight, your mind kept wandering. the yule ball was fast approaching, and while everyone else seemed to be preparing for it, you hadn’t given it much thought. that is, until now.

you glanced up from your parchment for a moment, catching sight of harry at a nearby table with ron. the redheads face was scrunched up in confusion as he scanned through a pile of books, while harry was bent over his own work, furrowing his brow, the mess of his hair falling even more haphazardly into his eyes. you couldn’t help but smile at the sight. it was silly, really, but your heart did a little flip in your chest every time you saw him.

hermione’s quill paused as she sensed your distraction. she glanced up from her essay, a knowing look in her eyes. “you’re thinking about something else, aren’t you?”

you blinked, pulling your thoughts back to your paper. “what? no, I’m not.”

“you’re not fooling me, you know.” she raised an eyebrow at you, clearly not buying your response.

“alright, you got me” you let out a small, nervous laugh, fiddling with your quill. eventually you quickly scribbled something about the goblin rebellions; at least you’d gotten something done. hermione raised an eyebrow but didn’t push it. instead, she focused back on her own work, though the flicker of curiosity in her eyes didn’t go unnoticed.

after another moment of silence, you decided to break it. “so," you began casually, tapping your quill against the edge of your parchment, "have you got a date for the yule ball yet?"

hermione paused, her quill hovering over her paper as her gaze flickered toward you. you tried to keep your expression neutral, but the question seemed to make your heart race just a little bit faster. you were fully aware that the yule ball was approaching, and with it, all sorts of questions about who would be attending with whom. you had yet to ask anyone, not that you really had the courage to. hermione, however, seemed unusually quiet at the question. you glanced up at her, surprised to see a faint flush on her cheeks.

"well," her voice was soft and unsure. "i’ve been thinking about it…” she sighed, tapping her quill against her paper. “i don’t know. i haven’t decided yet.” she gave you a playful look. “you’d think i’d have someone in mind by now, but…”

you leaned in, eager for any hint of gossip. “but... what?”

she shrugged, her cheeks tinged pink. “it’s just… complicated. i don’t really know what to do about it.”

“complicated how?”

hermione bit her lip, clearly avoiding a direct answer. “it’s nothing,” she muttered. “i’ll figure it out.”

you smirked, not letting her off the hook so easily. “come on, you can’t just leave me hanging like that. who are we talking about? is it someone i know?”

she shifted in her seat, clearly uncomfortable with how much you were pressing her. “i don’t know. maybe it’s not worth thinking about right now,” she said, but you could tell by the way she was avoiding your gaze that she was hiding something.

“well, I’m not going to stop asking until you tell me.”

hermione smirked, shaking her head. "i’m not telling you unless you tell me about your date first."

your smile faltered, and you quickly tried to divert the conversation. "i — i don’t have one yet" you admitted, your heart skipping a beat as you glanced toward harry again, who was now arguing with ron about some part of the essay.

"i bet you do," hermione pressed, her grin widening. "you’ve been eyeing someone for weeks now."

your face went hot, and you scrambled to find words. "i — i’m not eyeing anyone! i’m just—" you stopped yourself before you said something too embarrassing.

"come on. you can tell me. who’s got your attention?" hermione’s eyes sparkled with mischief, her voice soft but teasing.

you opened your mouth, then closed it again, your thoughts a whirlwind. it was harry, of course. he was the one you were always looking at, the one whose smile could make your heart flutter. but you couldn’t just say that out loud, could you? not when it felt like a secret that was yours and yours alone. especially since you were such close friends, and you couldn’t mess that up.

before you could answer, there was a sudden loud noise; harry, having knocked over a stack of books, was frantically trying to gather them up, and you couldn’t help but laugh, "smooth, harry," you muttered, barely holding in your giggles.

hermione giggled, too, and for a moment, the tension of the conversation melted away. "he’s definitely not the most graceful, is he?" she remarked, eyes twinkling with amusement.

"no," you agreed, unable to suppress your grin. "but it’s... part of his charm, i suppose."

hermione smirked, her voice dropping to a whisper. "well, if you’re not going to ask him to the ball, maybe i should."

you froze, staring at her in horror. "what?"

she burst into laughter, and you quickly realized she was just teasing you. still, you couldn’t shake the heat rising to your cheeks. "i’m only joking," hermione said between giggles, "you like him, don’t you?”

you felt your face heat up instantly. “what? no! i mean, maybe — no, i don’t—” you fumbled over your words, flustered beyond belief.

hermione raised both eyebrows, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “oh, you definitely do. it’s so obvious.”

“you’re impossible.”

“you just need to be brave enough to ask him.” hermione shrugged, clearly not letting you off the hook that easily.

your stomach twisted at the thought. "yeah, right. like i could ever do that."

"you never know unless you try."

you shot her a look, shaking your head. "you’re terrible."

“i’m just giving you some friendly advice.” she grinned. “now, let’s get back to this essay. but... if you do decide to ask harry to the ball, I’m happy to help you practice.”

you sighed dramatically, but secretly, a smile tugged at your lips. hermione’s teasing was both comforting and utterly terrifying. but no matter how much you tried to ignore it, the thought of harry — and the yule ball — lingered in your mind.

as the two of you got back to work, the library’s peaceful ambiance returned, but something had shifted. it was no longer just about finishing the essay. it was about what might come next — what might happen at the yule ball. and maybe, just maybe, you’d find the courage to ask harry. but for now, you were content to sit here, with your friends, in the quiet of the library.

and who knew? maybe this year’s yule ball would turn out to be a lot more interesting than you ever imagined.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

SOUNDTRACK // must be love, niall horan

TAGLIST // @callsigncrushx @moonjellyfishie @pussyslayerhd @accio-mayachhiato @ezrafrss @iyskgd @bakugouswaif

[lizzyk137]

It's A Date- A Spencer Reid Fanfiction (Spencer X Reader)

Description: Spencer does not want to go to the BAU picnic but goes because he has a crush on you and suddenly Spencer is good a baseball which shocks everyone. Warning: None, just pure fluff

Want to read more, visit my Masterlist!

Two minutes.

Just two more minutes.

Only two more minutes until the entire team could leave for a fun filled afternoon together without the worry of trying to catch a serial killer.

Hotch could see how restless the team was after having five back-to-back cases with no break and too much paperwork. So, he set some time aside for a small break for the team to relax and have some fun. A picnic at the park with some team friendly games.

You were excited, ecstatic even, about being able to enjoy an afternoon in the sun and just relax. Everyone was bringing a dish to share and even though you weren't great at sports, you were excited to play a few games with everyone.

The clocked chimed as it hit three o'clock and everyone cheered, quickly grabbing their already packed items before heading out the door, Hotch reminding everyone to meet at the park at four and to remember their food dish. You looked around smiling as everyone hurried to the door before stepping inside and turning to face the front as you saw Spencer, your best friend and long-time crush, dragging his feet as he made his way to the elevator.

Morgan and Emily called out to him to pick up the pace, as Hotch pushed the open-door button to keep the elevator from moving. Spencer finally stepped inside, chest to chest with you, a fake smile placed on his face. You knew he wasn't thrilled to be going, that he would rather go home and read or visit the outdoor theatre to watch an old film. You finally convinced him to go that it would be fun to try new things, him reminding you that playing any sport wasn't new or fun to him, the memories of gym classes still haunting his mind.

You had just patted his back reminding him that the team were not his old classmates and trying to play something without dreading it was something new to him. He just shrugged and agreed to go after you flashed him your puppy dog eyes, a look he could never say no to.

The park was right by your house, so you decided to walk over, seeing almost everyone was already there and helped set up the picnic table full of food with Penelope and JJ. It felt nice to chat openly with everyone about life and pure silliness without having to worry about keeping it short between solving a case. Everyone was sitting down to eat when you realized someone was missing. Spencer.

You reached for your phone when you heard his voice behind you. "I know I'm late, I'm sorry." You looked up at him from your spot on the grass with a smile, taking in his work clothes that he was still wearing.

"I'm glad you could make it! I saved you a spot." You patted the spot next to you and he sat down next to you before you bumped your shoulder with his. "Are you ready for a fun night?"

He sighed before stealing a chip off your plate. "Honestly, not really."

You gave a sad smile and offered your plate to him to pick off of. "At least try to keep an open mind to it." He just hummed his response and took half of your sandwich, laying his head down on your lap for you to play with his hair.

----

You were playing baseball with everyone, Spencer still seated on the grass, reading a book with occasional peek up at you. He wasn't excited to play baseball but he enjoyed watching you get excited, your laugh echoing through the air, your smile bright. He loved it when you were happy, your smile always getting lost in the gore of your job. He noticed you looking at him, worry buried between your brows, and he knew you were worried about him not joining in. An hour into the game, he sighed and set his book down then made his way over to you in the makeshift dug out area.

He poked your shoulder, something he always did to let you know he was there when he came up behind you. "Are you joining?" A hopeful look on your face when you asked. He nodded and gave you a small smile. He didn't want to join but he just couldn't say no to you.

It was your turn to bat, and you struck out every time, a playful pout on your lips as you shuffled back to him, resting your head on his arm upset you didn't hit the ball as he patted your back. JJ was up to base and she hit one pitch, making it to first base, making it Spencer's turn next.

He stepped up to base, Morgan smirking at the pitcher's spot, a knowing look on his face. An easy three throws and Spencer would be out, his team a step closer to winning. Spencer got into his stance, Morgan throwing the ball at lightning speed and the clunking sound filled the air as the ball flew through the air way past Hotch who was out in the far field.

You screamed with the rest of your team as Spencer sprinted toward first and second base, a quick glance to the out field as he saw Hotch grab the ball, and he made a rash decision to keep going, pushing JJ out of third base and forcing her to head toward the home base with him as the ball zoomed through the air towards home base, JJ and Spencer narrowly making it.

Silence filled the air for a second, everyone dumbfounded on how Spencer got a home run on his first try, before Penelope and you erupted into cheers as you ran up to Spencer jumping up into his arms, him easily catching you, a laugh easily released from his throat as he spun your around.

The next hour was filled with laughter, smiles and cheers as the game went on, Spencer helping you with your stance, helping you get to third base. You had never seen Spencer so carefree, and it took everyone by surprise, earning a lecture on physics in how you can easily figure out the speed in which you need to hit the ball in order to get a good hit in.

The night was closing in and everyone decided on a quick game of soccer, something Spencer couldn't figure out with his brain but you pulled him over to your team, your hand fitting perfectly into his. The game quickly began and you laughed at how Spencer tried to recreate the fancy tricks Morgan and yourself were pulling, earning a few grass stains on his white dress shirt. Your team somehow won and Spencer pulled you into a hug after you scored the winning point, something you weren't expecting.

Both of you helped clean up and everyone was leaving with the promise to have another night out next week from Hotch, when you were asked a question you didn't think Spencer would ask.

"Can you teach me how to play before next week?"

You turned around, confusion on your face. "Um, why? I thought you didn't like playing sports?"

"I-I don't but you like playing, and I didn't have enough time to watch soccer games before I came to impress you." His voice just a whisper.

You chuckled, your face heating up. "I can teach you, but was that why you were late?"

"Yeah- I, um, watched some baseball games to figure out what to do." Spencer squeaked out as you walked up to him a teasing smirk on your lips.

"Well, it was certainly impressive." Spencer eyes grew big.

"It-it was?"

"Mhm, it was." You stopped a few inches from him and looked up at his chocolate coloured eyes. "So, are you going to walk me home?"

The smile on Spencer's face grew and he laced his hand in yours, like he's done it hundreds of times before, and pulled you close as you walked out of the park.

You were almost to your apartment complex, the silence comforting and your hands still intwined. "I think I'll need lots of lessons with you."

"Lessons in what?" You teased, a smirk on your lips as you poked his cheek. His cheeks turned a bright red along with the tips of his ears as he shook his head.

"I-I meant with soccer, Y/N."

You pouted your lips playfully. "Boo, I thought you were talking about something else."

He abruptly stopped and turn to you. "I didn't think you'd want to do that. Not saying you could not want it but we're friends so I-I didn't think that you'd want to further our friendship, especially with me, would be possible. I was talking about soccer, because you seemed so good at it and I fell quite a few times, but if you do want to do want physical relations, I-I'll try my best to-." His rant silenced by your lips on his.

You pulled away after a few seconds, Spencer body still, his eyes large as he watched you look up at him a big smile lighting up your face. "I've been wanting to kiss you for years." Your cheeks flushed pink, and Spencer could feel his heart clench at how adorable you were. "Saturday, pick me up at three, it'll be a date."

Untangling your hands, you made your way to your complex's doors with a smile on your face, your cheeks warm, embarrassed that you just shut him up with a kiss.

"Y/N!" You turned around to the sound of your name to see Spencer running up to you. One of his arm's circling your waist, pulling you closer to him as his other hand tilted your head up as he cupped your cheek before he brought his lips to yours for a sweet kiss that left you breathless. He pulled away, a devious smile on his handsome face, he gave a small peck to your lips again. "It's a date."

[telephoniii]

Malleus copes with you leaving.

Malleus knows this is best for you.

It was your decision to make and yours alone. Lilia sat him down and thoroughly lectured him on it. He couldn't hold you back from happiness. Yet the heartache he felt only grew.

What was the point of all the late nights spent with you? The secrets whispered in the winds? The kisses shared past midnight?

Why would you provide him with such memories only to leave?

The second you stepped through that mirror, disappearing from his sight, Malleus felt sick. His whole world had been changed. He foolishly placed all his love and more onto you. Now that you’re gone, he’s directionless.

Malleus feels Lilia pat him on the shoulder. His voice isn't as playful as it usually is but still carries a chipper tone. “You’ve got centuries to find another!… Learn to let go.”

Let go?

Was this how relationships worked? You put in your all just to inevitably let go? How cruel.

He secluded himself from all of Diasomnia for a week, including his bodyguards and Lilia.

Malleus felt your absence everywhere. The starry nights are more silent than ever. Ramshackle reverted to an old, dusty dorm. He wonders what happened to your cat companion once you left.

The Gargoyle Research Club is canceled until further notice. Not that anyone else attended. Without your smile to invade the room, Malleus felt no desire to ramble about the complex history of his favorite subject.

Everything felt dull. And he despised it.

One night, he made his way into the abandoned dorm of Ramshackle.

He found your old room, your old mirror. Malleus thinks he’s going crazy. He swears he saw your reflection in the dinky glass.

It's amusing in a way. How one human had impacted his life so much.

Malleus wonders how you’re doing without him. Is it better? Living in a world where you could never see his face again?

He remembers you talking to him about your real family, reminiscing on bad and good memories. That was the first time he felt compelled to hold you. To comfort you. To make all the pain go away.

He would've never guessed you would soon be the source of his pain.

Malleus resents how easy it was to lose you; how easy it was for you to let him go. But another, louder part of himself knows that he could never hate you. When you left, you took a part of him permanently.

He longs to see you again.

For you to prance by his side at his club. For you to text him silly messages throughout the day on his tiny device. For you to come to him asking for help in finding Grim.

Malleus is unbearably lonely without you.

Then he hears a thud. It seems as though the wind had knocked an item in your room over. A journal. Malleus can’t help but observe the little notebook.

Your name was written on the cover. He immediately opens to page one.

The date at the top was the exact day he remembers first meeting you. You write about a handsome stranger you met at night. Based on your words, you felt as though you had intruded on his space.

Malleus soon finds himself spiraling, reading page after page of you describing your time at NRC; the people you met, the memories you created, and the fae you fell in love with.

He feels a surge of disappointment as he quickly reads through it all, soon reaching the end. His eyes widen as he turns to the last page. A mere two sentences were written in ink.

“You’ll always be my love. Even if we’re dimensions apart, Tsunotaro.”

Malleus’s grip on the leather cover tightened. You knew he’d find this. He’s partly amused. You are always full of surprises.

He rips out that last page addressed to him, letting the notebook fall to the floor as he does.

Malleus transforms the torn paper into a delicate, green rose. That flower will now always hold a piece of his magic.

The fae places it in front of the mirror in which he stares at his reflection.

~

“I, Malleus Draconia, vow to never love another like I did you, my dearest child of man.”