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ssa-dado · 24 days ago

Text

Booty Call

Aaron Hotchner x fleabag!reader Genre: Excruciatingly drawn-out mutual pining followed by some office-lit smut Summary: The last time you saw Hotch, he came in his pants in 30 seconds. Now he’s inviting you to his office, pretending that didn’t happen - only to end up fingering you against a door. Warnings: SEXUAL CONTENT. MDNI!! In-office ladyfingering, Hotch peacocking for reader’s attention for 70% of the fic, objectification of the Hotchner body, affectionate bullying, and indirect mentions of Haley (RIP queen) Word Count: 6.1k (sorray) Dado's Corner: A very long fic… but you know what else is long??? The wait!!! because I was busy surviving finals. This is technically a pt2, but not really (no need to read the first one). I provide all the context because I support commitment issues and believe in standalones for the emotionally unavailable Proofreading, creative consulting, and emotional damage control generously powered by @hotchology and @softtdaisy <3333 thank you, my loves <3333 I am but a shell without you. (EDIT: forgot to mention this was inspired by THIS request by my lovely Y anon <3 I'm 629 months late, I'm so sorry)

masterlist

Sometimes a “u up” text isn’t a late-night booty call. Sometimes it’s a “you could come into my office” from the FBI dilf whose soul (and pants) you annihilated in under 30 seconds.

Naturally, the mere possibility of you coming (you choose to interpret “could” very generously) is enough to make you blow ten dollars worth of gas just to haul ass all the way to Quantico.

(AKA Copville.)

Now, in fairness, the texts leading up to this divine invitation weren’t exactly dripping with lust – but more like:

btw remember when my landlord tried to evict me because I stopped paying rent in protest over him not fixing shit, and you helped me draft that letter?

(You very graciously leave out the part where he fled your apartment after coming in his pants.)

(Not that you’re trying to shame him. He’s probably been thinking about it every night since - alone, full of regret. And lotion. Hopefully.)

well… he’s escalating things legally. I might need your help.

(It’s giving: You haven’t texted since, but I’m desperate and legally vulnerable now. Help me, Obi-Wan.)

But also - are you really desperate? Or are you just responding logically when he replies - immediately (thirty minutes later) - with:

aaron hotchner (work, no nudes): Sure. Here’s the number of the best housing lawyer I know. - A.H.

Which is clearly a move. That’s not “don’t bother me.” That’s “please bother me, but I’m terrified I’ll embarrass myself by creaming my pants again the second you make eye contact.”

That’s basically textbook damage control.

Because you are his biggest problem (no pun intended - except, yes, exactly that. The kind of problem that causes a very noticeable shift in his posture. The kind he has to hide behind file folders and moral codes and Section 12B of the FBI conduct manual.)

So no. He’s not pushing you away. He’s playing hard to get. Bureaucratically.

Hence why you followed up with:

it’s very veeery urgent

Because what is urgency, really, if not the slow, unbearable throb of two mutually sexually repressed adults - one of whom hasn’t fucked since dial-up internet - desperately trying not to desecrate government-issued upholstery?

And sure enough, he responds:

aaron hotchner (work, no nudes): I’m still at work. Buried in paperwork. Even if I want to help, I can’t right now. I’m stuck. -A.H.

Ah. The ‘I’m-still-trying-to-play-it-precious’ act.

Naturally, it leads you to reasonably reply with:

how can I help you come unstuck?

And that is what finally gets you the invitation of the century:

aaron hotchner (work, no nudes): You could come into my office. -A.H.

Yeah. He wants you. Desperately. And he’s so bad at hiding it.

Especially because from the moment you utter the magic words - “I’m looking for Agent Aaron Hotchner’s office” - there’s this weird little ritual of welcome that kicks into gear.

The receptionist visibly straightens her spine, picks up the phone, nods a few times before politely redirecting you to the correct elevator so you can reach the Prince’s Tower without too many obstacles.

It’s all so seamless, so orchestrated, the man is practically leaving breadcrumbs to his office.

You half expect rose petals. Or armed guards. Instead, when the elevator doors glide open on the sixth floor, you’re greeted by one of his minions - clean-shaven, suited, radiating “I’ve been briefed” energy - waiting to escort you to the throne room.

Aaron is clearly pulling every Type-A string in his alphabetized folder of delusions, doing everything in his power to maintain an air of federal professionalism - probably to intimidate you.

Probably to get you to forget the fact that he once came in his pants for a couple of grinds.

Nice try, Commander Creamsicle. You’re not exactly impressed.

Especially when you have to pass desk after desk, climbing a bureaucratic Mount Olympus - one, two, three… definitely more than ten steps - until there it is. His door.

Aaron Hotchner.

Gold brassy nameplate in – shockingly - an almost friendly rounded serif (DIN, maybe.) Soft. Wholesome. Kind of like his moans.

You knock. Twice. (You don't want to jump-scare the Supreme Leader.)

Nothing.

"Hotch will be right back...” the minion says.

(Hotch. Oh, no. That’s what he goes by? A cutesy diminutive of a last name carried by maybe twelve people in North America? For fuck’s sake. You’re dealing with a man whose entire personality hinges on being a limited edition. A cry for individuality wrapped in a kevlar vest.)

“…He’s in a meeting with the Section Chief,” the minion explains, professional but pitying. “He’ll be back as soon as possible. You’re welcome to wait inside.”

So you wait.

Long enough for everyone else to pack up and leave.

Long enough for the lights in the bullpen to go dark one by one.

Long enough to steal bandwidth from his federal office so you can stream ten-minute commentary videos on hyperspecific topics you’d never admit to caring about. All without touching your sacred monthly data.

You sit in his chair. Then on his desk. Then back in his chair because it swivels and you’re a simple creature with no impulse control. You spin once. Twice. Kick off the floor and make yourself dizzy just to cope with the fact that you’re here.

In his space.

Alone.

…Unsupervised.

You snoop. Obviously.

You poke around his perfectly aligned fountain pens and - because you were put on this Earth to create chaos - you tilt each one just slightly off its original axis. You test them out on a sticky note (which, for some reason, is bright pink - another unspeakably erotic detail).

You start doodling. Then you try cursive. Then you try writing your name next to his like a middle schooler.

You look at everything.

The picture of his ex-wife (RIP). The photo of him and his son. The solo picture of his son he keeps right on the desk.

The drawings - so many - lined up like a proud museum of fatherhood on the bookshelf.

The bookshelf itself, housing an ungodly collection of law texts you don’t even pretend to open.

The plaques. The trophies. The commemorative papers he felt the need to frame with words like “commendation” and “valor” and “outstanding service” printed in fonts that scream male validation.

His diploma from Georgetown Law (summa cum laude, of course). And the notation of academic kiss - because God forbid this man gets through any institution without someone formally rewarding him with affection.

You take it all in, every shiny, sterile, perfectly arranged detail. Anything to distract yourself from the fact that the last time you were alone with him the only sounds were the wet friction of desperation and the humiliatingly gorgeous groans he tried (and failed) to smother.

Like the low creak of the door hinges cracking open now.

“I thought it was obvious I was being ironic when I told you to come all the way here,” says Aaron - no, Hotch now, Unit Chief in full (Terrifyingly light on his feet. You didn’t even hear him coming. [No pun intended.]),

(…No comment on the irony thing. If you open your mouth you might cry, and you still need to keep up the illusion that you’re cool. Chill. Unbothered. Unflappable.)

(You don’t know why he’s earned the privilege of you pretending to be someone you're not just to impress him - but here you are. Still doing it. Still hating yourself for it, a little.)

You shoot up from his chair like you’ve been caught committing a felony (which, in his eyes, sitting in his chair might as well be), and the motion actually makes him chuckle.

(Great. That’s why you’re doing this. That sound. That exact sound. That’s your motive. You want to be the kind of person who gets that sound out of him.)

Back into the designated guest seat you go - grinning, sheepish, trying to play innocent (or at least get away with charm) like you didn’t just defile his sacred leather throne.

Aaron Hotch lingers in the doorway a moment longer, eyes on you with what you - very generously, possibly delusionally - choose to interpret as fondness.

He shrugs off his suit jacket - holding eye contact the entire time (um. okay?) - and drapes it neatly on the coat rack by the door.

Now it’s just the crisp white shirt. No undershirt, from what you can tell (and you are, in fact, trying to tell), and that $200+ navy tie still perfectly knotted, deliberately untouched. A little too perfectly.

Over the sound of your rushed heartbeat and the crushing silence between you, something small clinks to the floor - a pen, slipping from the inner pocket of his grey jacket and landing just inches from your seat.

Before you can even flinch in the direction of helpfulness, he’s already bending to retrieve it - smooth, efficient, depriving you of the gallant honor of playing his humble page.

Which means you’re left with only one option: bear witness.

To the controlled, scoliosis-free descent of his seasoned federal spine. The unmistakable flex of triathlon-earned muscle beneath a white shirt that was absolutely not designed to contain this level of upper body storytelling.

Fabric straining. Shoulder seams threatening to revolt.

His tie swings forward as he leans down - a small, ridiculous pendulum momentarily distracting you from the sight of his thick fingers closing around what might be the daintiest pen ever engineered (literally just a standard BIC pen.)

His neck angles, and his long-ass nose dips perilously close to brushing your thigh.

You’re frozen. Outmatched. Possibly hallucinating.

Especially when his grey slacks pull taut over his thighs - shapely, is a word that unfortunately comes to mind - and for your sins, you’re treated to a clear silhouette of what can only be described as... the topography of his [REDACTED].

(Do not ogle. Do not ogle. You're not strong enough for this.)

And when he rises – slowly and cruelly moving at half speed - you’re left nose-to-crotch, with nothing in your cone of vision but the aggressively unholy outline of everything.

Only once he’s confirmed the sacred feng shui of his office has been restored does he glance at you - just once, just briefly - after the bend-and-snap that may or may not have triggered a pelvic floor event.

Then, and only then, he crosses the room. Sits across from you like nothing happened. Back straight. Hands folded. Brows slightly drawn.

(Okay. Now he looks scary again. Sort of. If you ignore the ghost of his dickprint still burned into your retinas.)

Well… shit.

“I’m sorry,” you both say at once.

You blink. He… doesn’t (not a surprise) - just stares at you, visibly thrown, like he can’t quite fathom what you could possibly have to apologize for.

“For-“ staring at your crotch “-sitting in your chair,” you offer quickly, just as he says, “For what happened the other day…” (Oh. So Mr. Thirty Seconds wants to talk about why he earned that title. Immediately. Bold.)

A smile tugs at his mouth. “It’s alright,” there’s something so gentle in his voice. Affection, perhaps. (You choose to interpret it as affection.)

“And about the other day… I owe you an apology for-” (creaming my khakis?) “-what I said. It was unwarranted. And unkind.”

Oh, right… that little moment (before the disaster) where he told you - flat-out - that your advances are the most obvious thing in the world, but you hide behind irony because real rejection would annihilate you. Or something along those lines.

(Not that you think about his exact words every night before falling asleep.)

And it’s definitely not because he only said all that while practically foaming at the mouth with jealousy over a guy he sent you on a date with. (One of his subordinates, no less… so-)

“I want you to know,” he continues, a stick up his ass, while reaching into the top drawer of his desk. He retrieves a leather case, unclasps it in full view, and pulls out - oh no. Wireframe glasses.

“-that none of what happened has impaired my judgment. My decision to help you with your landlord is entirely separate.” He slips the glasses onto the bridge of his nose, adjusts them with one finger then looks back up at you through the lenses.

You don’t say anything. Not because you’re speechless - okay, maybe a little - but because you’re busy… trying to decode his choice of words. Yes. That.

By “none of what happened.”

By “impaired.”

By “separate.”

Separate from what, exactly? His ethics? His self-control? His rapidly crumbling ability to pretend he hasn’t been mentally edging since the last time you touched?

Because let’s be honest - fuck the landlord. That’s just the excuse you both agreed to rehearse. Everyone knows it. He definitely knows it.

This is not about helping you deal with your landlord-

But helping himself deal with the fact that neither of you has stopped thinking about what it felt like to be pressed together, mouths reckless, hands worse, bodies one sigh away from a full-blown catastrophe.

Helping you? Please.

He’s trying to repress round two. You’re just here to speed up the inevitable.

“I’m… mortified about what occurred afterward. Between us.”

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Re………………yhhhhhhhh______________________________________________________________________ [my cat typed this… honestly #same]

And he does, indeed, look mortified - at least in the very specific way he rolls his shirt cuffs back, one meticulous turn at a time. Slowly. Painstakingly.

Mathematically leads you to ponder for what practical reason could there possibly be for baring those veiny forearms except to flex them directly in your line of sight?

To let the dim overhead lighting graze over the glint of his Submariner Rolex. A glint you might call obnoxious - if it weren’t mostly swallowed by the amount of dense, fluffy arm hair he's somehow made look distinguished. (Is this supposed to intimidate you? Seduce you? Declare tax bracket superiority?)

“It’s fine,” you say.

It is, objectively, not fine.

Especially not when he leans forward to grab a stack of files from the desk, one inch from where your hand rests.

As if you wouldn’t notice the vein curling down from the bend of his elbow, branching toward the base of his palm.

As if you wouldn’t clock the faint dent where a wedding band once lived.

Or the black ink smudged across his palm, streaked through with the fading chaos of blue, pink, and yellow marker.

Or the two wonky little smiley faces on the pads of his index and middle finger. One of them has a moustache.

Or the way your brain short-circuits the moment he starts actually listening to your increasingly incoherent ramble about your landlord, because suddenly all you can focus on are his unnaturally natural Barbie-pink lips.

How they purse, ever so slightly, when he’s thinking. How he licks them - absently - like he’s preparing them for a sentence that never quite finds the courage to leave his mouth.

He adjusts his glasses.

Then slides them down to the very tip of his nose so he can look at you properly, directly, the full weight of his attention leveled just above the frames.

He nods slowly as he listens, scribbling notes in that looping, elegant cursive of his.

Repositions the glasses back up with one finger, clears his throat, and offers apologetically, “Forgive me. Just a moment.”

Hotch rises from his chair and steps toward the bookshelf, reaching his left arm across the full span. His back arches (beautifully, by the way), and the fabric of his shirt pulls tight across his shoulder blades.

The cuff at his elbow slips back, casually scandalous, revealing the sharp cut of his forearm, the tension blooming beneath his skin as he flexes (not unnecessarily, but undeniably) to grasp one specific legal tome teetering on the farthest edge of the shelf.

He could’ve taken one step to the left and saved himself the whole burlesque routine.

He hasn’t.

Peculiar.

Even more peculiar is the way he splits the tome open (you next), right at the middle, licks his thumb, and starts flipping through the pages.

When he finds what he’s looking for, he sets the book down between you, slides it forward, plants his finger firmly on the page - then recites the passage aloud, straight from memory.

Legalese, in his voice, sounds like poetry.

Not the kind you slap onto Facebook captions next to a blurry sunset-

The real kind.

Archaic.

Written by dead men for other dead men, and yet somehow still breathing when it leaves his mouth. It’s dense. Impenetrable. Sacred.

You don’t understand a single fucking word.

But he understands you, and that’s worse.

Because he sees exactly where your eyes land - on the way his finger holds the line, on the stark contrast between the neat, delicate typeface and the breadth of his fingertip.

Between the thin, trembling page and the solid weight of his hand. Between the line he's pointing to - and the one you desperately want him to cross.

So he pauses. Looks up. Smiles. Then translates it into plain English, even though you (both – hopefully) know that’s not the language your body’s speaking right now.

And still, he makes it sound simple.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxz A cx>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> [My other cat insisted on joining too. Ermetic. He’s two months old and already knows how to write. I’m sending them both off to Yale. I fear their potential.]

So simple that everything he’s been saying - whether for five, fifteen, thirty minutes, an hour? - boils down to something similar to:

“Your landlord is the dumbest fuck on the face of the earth, yada yada *legalese*, yada yada. If he’s dumb enough to take this to trial, it’ll be the biggest mistake of his pathetic career, *legal jargon*. I know everyone in the justice system and the very few I don’t know are terrified of me, so even if you were in the wrong, you’d still come out on top - because I’m the hammer of God, and I’ve decided you’re worth protecting.”

Ah, the American justice system.

Broken, terrifying, occasionally kind to you if you’ve got a Hotchner in your corner.

Of course, he can’t just say any of that plainly.

Because Commander Creamsicle cannot speak on any subject without circling it three times, lacing it with a vocabulary that makes you question your grasp of the English language, and probably inventing two or three Latin words on the spot just to make sure you know he scored higher on the SAT than you.

And yet - after all that legal tap-dancing - he finally rounds it out with a good old-fashioned, glasses-tuck-accompanied:

“I’ll do everything in my power to make sure that man pays the maximum penalty available to me under the law.”

And somehow… you actually feel calm. Safe.

Safe enough to stop being hypervigilant for once in your goddamn life - and as a reward, the universe punishes you by letting you miss the moment the room shifts. Something settles in the air between you - not quite tension, not quite relief. Something heavier.

Like finality.

Or closure.

Or maybe just the AC finally kicking in.

(Though, to be fair, the AC is doing its job a little too well.)

(It’s cold as fuck.)

(You can see his nipples through the shirt.)

(Sharp little distractions, twin North Stars peeking through cotton, stolen from the night sky and the firmament just outside the window, guiding absolutely none of your moral compass.)

You try – earnestly - to redirect your gaze, because objectification is bad and you’re not trying to be a fake feminist, but he’s making it impossible (those peaks have gravitational pull. [This is your excuse.])

The moment Hotch says your name, you realize-

yep, your eyes are very much locked on the constellations instead of the conversation.

“...What?” you blurt, very coolly, very calmly, in your most convincing display of composure. (Which is to say: absolutely none, given the way he chuckles immediately afterward.)

Then, without comment, he stands and moves to lean against the desk beside you, effortlessly invading your personal space like he owns both it and the federal building you’re sitting in.

“I asked if you want some coffee before you head home. It’s a long drive. I’d rather not risk you falling asleep at the wheel.”

It’s shockingly natural for him to sound so concernedly paternal.

(In a good way!! Like- concerned. Like- in a caring way. Instinctively protective.)

(You’ll return your feminism books to the library next week. You promise.)

It doesn’t help that, standing like this, he’s towering slightly - just enough that you’re forced to look up (at that perfectly filled-out A-cup shirt.)

“Um. Yeah. Why not,” you mumble, smiling. (Did he offer coffee just to flex his in-office espresso machine? Absolutely. Are you complaining? Absolutely not.)

After all, what could possibly go wrong with him playing sexy barista - busy hands and naked forearms flirting with domesticity as he wrestles an industrial-grade coffee pod into place?

(You’re not thinking about it. You’re definitely not imagining him doing this in sweatpants and nothing else.)

He turns, casually. Half a smile curling at his lips, steam rising from the cup in his hands. Ceramic meets tabletop.

You open your mouth to say thank you-

-but don’t make it that far.

Because you're already wrapped – caught - by the overwhelming heat of his hand, his calloused fingers brushing your jaw, guiding your face toward his.

Lips collide.

The kiss doesn’t even pretend to be romantic. It’s rushed. Hot. A little desperate. (And after being edged for hours by his whiplash professionalism, you’re not in the mood to make it sweet.)

Your hand, once politely resting on his shoulder, drifts down the broad plane of his chest- maybe lingering, maybe teasing, maybe giving his A-cup a curious little squeeze in silent appreciation.

(Not that either of you acknowledges it. Because, apparently, it’s still socially weird to worship a man’s body like that. Which is unfair. Because look at him.)

Then your fingers find the knot of his tie - and you yank him down, hard, into the gravity of where you’re still perched in the guest chair.

Apparently, he’s very into that. Because the next thing you know, he’s deepening the kiss - mouth fuller, hungrier, less controlled - just as something that’s unmistakably a whimper slips from his throat.

(A sound he tries [and fails] to bury in the kiss.)

His hands move fast - one guiding you up from the chair, the other slipping down to cup your ass, anchoring you against him. (Okay. Wow.)

And for some reason - a reason you definitely can’t name right now - you feel the urge to break the kiss.

Not because you want to.

Definitely not because you’re overwhelmed.

And absolutely not because you’re starting to feel something stupid - like the hot guy with huge hands just squeezed your ass, grazed your breast, kissed you like he genuinely gives a shit, and now you’re hearing the chime of direct-struck idiophones inside your skull.

No. It’s because (obviously) you’re just not built for this level of cardio. Unlike him, you haven’t spent your life training your lungs for high-speed chases, chronic emotional repression, and three recreational sports.

That’s clearly why. It has nothing to do with wanting to look at him.

Not to see the flush rising on his cheeks. Not to watch his lips part, kiss-drunk and panting.

Not to see his hazel eyes, darker now - wide and wrecked.

(Nope. This is about oxygen. 100%. Definitely not about the soft, terrifying thing blooming between your ribs.)

So you ask, “Is the door locked?”

Even though you already know it isn’t. But it’s something to say. Something to break the silence before it starts meaning more than it should.

“No,” he replies, then crashes back into you, pulling you in even closer than you already were. In fact, he manhandles you backward until your spine meets the door with a thud.

(Problem solved. The door’s now locked - courtesy of your combined body weight. A tactical solution. This is why he’s Unit Chief. Strategic. Efficient. Excellent under pressure. Fuck, he’s great.)

As a token of appreciation for his outstanding thinking skills, your hand abandons its usual post at his tie, sliding down, unapologetically, to cup the obvious situation straining against his slacks.

He exhales sharply at the contact, hips twitching forward but somehow still manages to keep it together. At least enough to start removing your most prized emotional support object (read: his tie) with that pesky, showy precision.

One inch from your face.

(Unit Chief by day, burlesque performer by instinct. Truly, a man of range.)

He stares straight at you as his fingers work the knot loose - you wish those fingers were working your waistband instead, but alas, budget cuts.

His gaze drops to your mouth as he slides the tie free, undoes exactly one button of his shirt and moves your very enthusiastic, very busy grabby hand off his crotch (rude).

(Was he about to come again? You may never know.)

Then he pins both your wrists above your head with one hand and leans in, mouth dragging down your neck.

You're not prepared for it.

You're really not prepared for how accurately this man is fulfilling every half-baked adult novel fantasy you've ever privately entertained on a walk home, in a waiting room, during a particularly boring grocery trip.

So much so that a breathy, involuntary cry slips from your lips before you can catch it.

He chuckles - fucking delighted - his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You need to keep quiet, or else we’ll both be in trouble,” then seals the warning with a kiss pressed exactly where his words just burned - and he’s back in front of you, eyes locked on yours. “Can you be quiet?”

(Hell no.)

“I hope so-”

Another smirk from him. And then you hope absolutely nothing the second his hand slides down, past your waistband, and straight into your underwear.

Because suddenly, it’s just him and his fingertips sinking into soaked heat like he already knew exactly where to go. (Basic human anatomy, sure. But still- impressive. For a man.)

He doesn’t even glance down. His eyes stay locked on yours, hungry through thick lashes, as one finger finds your clit-

(A man! A man locating and engaging with the clitoris! In this economy!)

-and starts circling with just the right pace.

No frantic button-mashing and hoping for the best. No guesswork. He knows exactly how to move. (Thank you to the ex-wife - smiling sweetly in that framed photo on the bookshelf behind his desk, posed between him and their son - who clearly put in the hours and trained this man like a goddamn service dog.)

And he keeps watching you. Watches the way your face scrunches. The way your lashes flutter. The way your lips part around a breath you forget to take.

Watches the little hitch in your chest, the twitch of your hips when they instinctively chase more friction.

Watches the exact moment you have to pull against his grip just to keep yourself from making a sound.

And he loves it. You don’t need him to say it. You can feel it. (And you can see it too - clear as day. The thick, unforgiving outline in his slacks doing absolutely nothing to hide how much he’s enjoying the show.)

“You’re soaking my hand, you know that?” he murmurs, deadpan brilliance.

(Okay, Sherlock. Edged for hours. No shit you’re wet as fuck. Totally unnecessary observation... and yet - please say it again. That was so hot.)

Then he gathers the wetness with lazy satisfaction, fingers dragging through the mess between your thighs without slipping in - just enough to make you feel it. To make you hear it. The slick sound of your own arousal echoes off the walls of a federal office.

(Shit.)

And only once his smug, unbothered, power-drunk ass is satiated - then - he slides one thick (-very thick. Like, three-times-the-bullshit-Bic-pen-he-uses-to-sign-federal-paperwork thick.

A full goddamn inch of “how the fuck is this just your finger” thick.) finger inside.

You’re so wet he barely has to try. It sinks in effortlessly, your walls fluttering helplessly like they can’t decide whether to pull him deeper or push him out just to miss the feeling and beg for it back.

And then he starts to move.

Each thrust is deep just enough to make your stomach clench with every slow grind of his fingers. Slow enough to make you ache for more, controlled enough to make you feel every second of it.

Every withdrawal is precise, angled so his finger drags right across your clit - just the right pressure, just the right speed. And every curl on the way back in finds that soft, swollen spot inside you like he’s memorized it.

Like he’s practiced this.

With you. (Of course.)

Dreamed it - maybe just as often as you have - idly, hungrily, while filing taxes or running out for just one pack of noodles, while he’s maybe on the next aisle buying some miserable all-natural, unsweetened, preservative-free cereal for his son.

(Hopefully his son wasn’t next to him while he had these thoughts.)

Just… everyday errands, haunted by the thought of this exact scenario:

Your cunt wrapped tight around his fingers. Your breath catching against his mouth. His hand working you exactly the way it’s working you now - expert, relentless - while his mouth drifts wherever it can reach: your neck, your collarbone, the hinge of your jaw.

He’s everywhere.

And you-

you’re dizzy.

Struggling to stay upright, to stay quiet, to stay even vaguely human as he drags you closer to- (calculus, you try, math, equations, something-) but all your brain can manage is: one finger = 1.7 of yours.

(...Almost two.)

(...holy fuck.)

Mr. Magic Ladyfingers apparently comes with built-in precognition, because just as your self-control teeters on the edge of total combustion - he cuts it off with a kiss.

Like it’s nothing. Like he’s your boyfriend. (He’s not. But it’s romantic. And you’ll take it. Fuck, you’d take all of him if he let you.) His mouth claims yours – overwhelmingly tender - right as he eases in a second finger.

“Shit,” you pant against his lips, because the stretch - fuck, the stretch is unreal, it burns in the best way, it’s so much-

“I know.” (You hate him. What kind of answer is that??) “Just keep quiet, I got you.” (And just like that, he’s got your daddy issues wrapped around his finger[s] too - congratulations, Agent Hotchner.) “Bite my shoulder if you need to.” (Okay. Better. Hot. You’ve been waiting for an excuse to do exactly that since the very first time you saw him. hallenge accepted.)

He pushes in deeper, faster - fucking into you with enough force and precision that your knees actually start to buckle.

Effortlessly, his free hand slides around your waist, pulling you in tight - anchoring you to his body, to the warm, steady press of his well-defined A-cups, holding you upright.

You’re so, so close. Clenching around his fingers with every pulse, every thrust, every curl that lights you up from the inside out.

“God,” (Hotch mentions God count: 1. You were starting to worry he’d forgotten to name-drop Him.) “I can feel you dripping down my hand,” he murmurs. “Shit - feel what you’re doing to me.”

So you do. You try - through the fog of overwhelming, fucked-out pleasure - to get your hand back down between you. Fumble your way to his crotch.

Shit.

It’s a miracle his pants haven’t burst at the seams. Or maybe it’s worse - because the second your thumb presses against the unmistakable wet patch, hot and damp through his slacks, you realize he’s already halfway gone.

Soaked in his own precome. Cock straining hard against the fabric, twitching under your palm -and the second you press into it, he falters.

And that’s what does it. That noise. That sharp, guttural, involuntary fuck of a sound he tries to swallow.

You snap.

You hate yourself for it - hate how the orgasm hits not with fireworks, but like a tide, pulling you under. It’s not cinematic, it’s inevitable - and it shatters you anyway. The way his fingers fill you, the pressure, the stretch, the filth of it - he’s just too fucking big, too fucking good, and you’re just… weak.

Weak for him.

A broken, half-annoyed “shit-” spills from your lips as you come, thighs shaking, forehead pressed to his shoulder.

But he doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t rush. He just slows his thrusts, dragging each one out - making you feel every twitch, every aftershock, every unbearable second of overstimulation that sends your body spasming around him again.

And again.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathes. “You’re- God, you’re gorgeous.” (Hotch mentions God count: 2)

You’re fluttering.

(And - poetically, of course - so are your walls.) It’s ridiculous.

It’s absurd. This should be just fingering. Just an impulsive fingering in a federal office. Just you, post-orgasm, wrecked, barely upright, trying not to collapse against a goddamn filing cabinet that probably holds national security secrets.

But it’s not. Not even close.

Because somehow, he’s still there.

Not rebuttoning his shirt in a panic. Not fumbling for a tissue or retreating behind polite avoidance. Not slipping his tie back on like this was a temporary lapse in judgment to be buried under paperwork.

He stays. Still holding you. Still watching you like you haven’t just ruined something. Like he hasn’t.

And now… what? Do you just grab his jaw and kiss him like it means something? Or like it doesn’t?

Do you say thank you? (God, no - except maybe you will, because you’ve never been touched like that in your life and he deserves something, doesn’t he?)

Do you keep holding his gaze like this while he looks at you like you’re not a mistake? Like you’re not just a late-night regret he’ll shove into a drawer and lock up tomorrow morning?

Do you lean in again? Just to see what he does? Do you run? Do you crack a joke? Do you cry?

Or do you say nothing and wait for him to break first?

You could ask him to stay. Or ask what happens next. Or - God forbid - ask if he felt it too. If he feels it now.

His eyes are saying something, but they’re hard to trust - too soft, too open. They might as well be lying.

“Are you okay?” he asks and unknowingly deepens the dangerous sense of emotional attachment you’ve somehow managed to form around his fingers. You nod - half-hearted, dazed - and he takes it as enough.

He excuses himself, opens a drawer, and returns with a packet of wet wipes. Then - giddily, somehow, like he’s just remembered something sweet - offers, “Jack’s been drawing a lot lately. I usually show up here with crayon masterpieces all over my hands.”

(A cute story. Definitely real. Also, definitely told to clarify that the wipes aren’t… y’know… for this kind of thing. That he doesn’t do this. Here. Ever. Not that you’re together or anything, but still. The accidental monogamy of it makes you feel safe.

Special.

God, you’re disgusting.)

He checks his watch, sighs. “Oh. It’s getting late. I should… I should be getting back.” (Never mind.) “Let me walk you to your car. Or - down to the lobby, at least.”

Add a little awkward “Oh, no, don’t worry - I mean… yeah. Okay. Sure.”

And suddenly you’re just… standing there. Beside him. Watching the mighty prince reassemble himself like a Victorian widow preparing to re-enter society.

He starts with the tie, of course - God forbid he be seen in the wild without one. (Scandalous. The Unit Chief with his throat exposed. Think of the headlines.)

“Sorry to keep you,” he murmurs, as he loops the knot into place. Straightens his collar. Apologizes again. Grabs his suit jacket and slides some folders into his briefcase. Apologizes a third time.

You focus on the rhythm of your steps as you walk beside him, trying to block out every small, gallant thing he does - each one a little more lethal than the last. You know you’d fall blind, stupid, hopelessly in love (With. A. Cop.) if you gave yourself even a second to think.

He even presses the elevator button for you. Lets you step in first. And then-

Doors close.

Just you. Just him. Six floors to the lobby. Five square feet of sealed-off space.

“We’ll be down in about thirty seconds,” he reassures you.

Thirty seconds. What couldn't you do in thirty seconds? (Make out against the mirrored wall. Drop to your knees. Get your hand down his slacks again just to check if the wet spot’s still there-)

…Oh.

Right.

There’s a camera.

Never mind.

SORRYYYY SORRYYYYY

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#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x reader smut #criminal minds #aaron hotchner imagine #hotch x reader #aaron hotch x reader #joe mama x reader #my cats x reader #fleabag!reader #ladyfingers in my mouth noww!!!

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jinxvex · 8 months ago

Note

heyy! if u take requests i was wondering if you would make an enemy sevika x reader, where they treat each other like shit until sevika has enough and fucks the shit out of reader 💪😊

♱ enemy. (enemy!sevika x reader) ♱

enemies to lovers is lowkey my fave trope so, let’s go!!

also sorry i haven’t posted! finals week… 🫠😓

cw: nsfw, kink city LOL!! sevika is v rough + punishes reader, possessiveness, BDSM elements, BREEDING KINK (oops), name-calling (slut, whore, bitch, etc), degradation/praise, cursing, arguing, a tiny bit angsty, spanking, she slaps your cunt once, choking, hair-pulling, doggy position, she eats you out!! it's sweet towards the end dw!

there's def more but OOP-

wc: 4.2K! (oops)

sevika hates you.

1. she hates the way your hips sway when you walk.

she’s definitely ALWAYS looking at your ass.

2. she hates how you talk and how you giggle under your breath when you laugh at something you shouldn’t. your voice sounds like music, like wind chimes in the spring that cause her vision to blur.

3. she hates the way your skin glows in the sunlight—as rare as it is in the gloomy grey atmosphere of zaun.

4. she hates how you dress and style your hair. you stand out. you personally customize your clothing, adding your own detailing on platform boots, jeans, jewelry, belts, accessories, tops, and jackets. your uniqueness annoys her beyond belief.

“what a fuckin’ show-off! this isn’t a fashion show,” she mutters under her breath to get a rise out of you.

5. she hates the way you talk back to her, even when she starts an argument first.

“well maybe you could learn something, you wear the same shit like… every day,” you respond briskly, already sick of her berating you as you’ve just walked through the doors of silco’s office.

she’s older than you, you should show some respect! you act so high and mighty like nobody can crack that tough persona you put on to protect yourself from the dark and dangerous streets of zaun.

she scoffs. her thumb and index finger pinching the bridge of her nose to alleviate the stress you’ve subjected her to. she cannot believe this.

“see? this… child is so incompetent! fuckin’ impossible to work with! she’s probably late to this meeting because she’s too busy playing dress up to actually do her job.” she directs towards you although not looking at you, opting to look at the tall chair covering silco’s body as she sits in the chair across from his.

silco sighs, clearly annoyed at both of your antics. he swivels around in his chair to face you both.

“actually, she was doing something i assigned her to. last minute, but she always gets the job done.”

sevika’s eyes flicker to you, and you smirk at her assumption that you were accidentally late.

she scoffs again and drags her grey-ish eyes back to silco as she leans to the left, almost trying to get away from you standing at her right with your arms crossed.

“you see… you two are my best. i cannot afford to have you both acting like children when doing business. it could threaten everything i’ve—we’ve built. one wrong move could tarnish this.”

you and sevika stay quiet as you avoid eye contact with each other, you taking a newfound interest in the bookshelf as sevika’s eyes burn holes into the ground. you knew deep down that silco was right.

“it's time you’ve both gotten along, for all of our sakes. don’t disappoint me again.”

…

you haven’t seen sevika since silco’s ‘lecture’ he gave you two a couple of days ago.

it's evening in zaun, streets and bars filling with people as the night threatens to begin.

you sat on the couch in the living room of your tiny yet, surprisingly homey apartment. your legs resting on the coffee table and you busy munching on cheap snacks, reflecting on the conversation that took place not too long ago. you were livid.

i mean, what else more did he want from you!

sevika was impossible. you tried to get along with her in the beginning but no matter what, she hated you!

she constantly finds new ways to poke fun at you, belittle you, and insult your intelligence. she obviously thinks you aren’t worthy of being a part of silco’s inner circle and that offends you.

and yes, she’s incredibly hot, but all of that was overshadowed the moment she decided you were a piece of gum on her boot!

you sigh incredulously, “damn… i need a drink.”

…

a few minutes later, you’re walking into the last drop and making a beeline for the bar.

as you sit down, your hands graze the edges of the countertop and you close your eyes briefly to let out a breath you’ve held in your throat for…

who knows how long?

that garners the attention of thieram, the kind bartender whom you’d had polite conversation with in the past. you’d taken quite a liking to his kind personality in the past.

“what would you like tonight, miss?” he smiles at you.

as you rummage through your mind for something to order, there isn’t much.

you aren’t a big drinker so it was hard to decipher what was good and what wasn’t because you simply don’t know.

“she’ll have the whiskey, best you've got.” you hear a gruff voice come from behind you. you hear the person’s rough steps come to a stop beside you and they sit.

“ugh.” you scoff out loud and roll your eyes dramatically as you avoid looking in her direction to your right.

sevika.

“coming right up…” thieram, not even wanting to know, swiftly walks off to make your drink.

“what do you want?!” you huff out in annoyance as you finally bring your head up to make eye contact with her.

“nothin’… just enjoying you strugglin’ to order. jus’ was painful to watch, doll.”

your eyebrows raise as your mouth opens and closes, you not exactly knowing how to respond. especially to "doll".

although her tone indicates that she was merely joking, you retaliate against her anyway for the way she’s treated you in the past.

“i- you know what?! if you’ve just come to gloat and make me feel like an idiot just go right ahead and fuck off!” you state. causing a vein to pop out of your forehead and your left eye to twitch in pure anger.

“i’m not in the mood for your shit” you restate your previous point.

“y’know? you’re such a pain in my ass. always bitching and complaining about everything, always in the way, you’re unbelievable.”

you pause your movements, surprised at the lengths she’s going to make you feel terrible.

“i think you look weak.” she finishes, smirking as your eyes threaten to spill with tears out of rage.

“you’re such. a. fucking. bitch.” you emphasize the b in the word bitch as you leap off your chair and stomp out of the bar, trudging back to the comfort of your own home.

thieram walks back over to the side of the bar you were just at and his face scrunches in confusion.

“uh… where’d she go?” he questions as he raises his hands, one hand occupied with your drink.

sevika is still sitting with her mech hand pressing into a tight fist on the counter and her human hand tightly squeezing the bridge of her nose.

she makes up her mind as she stands up and makes her way to your apartment, already having memorized where you lay your head at night.

tonight, you’ll learn respect. obedience.

…

you’ve just made it back to your apartment and you’re slamming the door shut. as you pace back and forth from your kitchen to your living room you’re met with complete and utter silence that taunts you.

“how do i let her get to me? every. single. time.” you’re thinking, mentally cursing yourself for being so stupid. for letting her see you upset.

you hear a loud knock at the door and you pause all moments, as you make your way to answer it, your thoughts race with ideas of who may be at your doorstep at this time of night.

you open the door and you’re met with none other than the sight of sevika. both of her hands clench into fists at her sides as she gazes at you darkly.

it’s almost eerie, her silence. you sense something in her demeanor that is different than usual. it feels… scary.

you both say nothing as she pushes her way into your home, back turned to you as she stops in her tracks.

“wha- what the fuck? g-get out!” you scream out.

her head cocks over her shoulder, one eye looking back at you in a silent warning.

you slowly back up against the door as she turns her full body around to corner you against it. her stare pierces deep into your soul, you feel as though a knife has been jabbed into your gut.

sevika is a scary woman. you know you stand no chance against her strength. that frightens you slightly but you hold your head up high and maintain eye contact with her to stand your ground.

her hands are placed on either side of your head, pressing into the rough, wooden texture of the door. you hear the wood creaking when she leans in, nose brushing against yours. the silence is deafening.

"hmm..." she cocks her head to the right, still looking deep into your irises.

"sevika, l-let me go. what are you doing?!" you try to reason with her but she is unwavering as she takes her mech hand and trails it dangerously slowly up your body from your thigh to your bare stomach, then your arms.

it lands on your neck and wraps around it loosely as a scare tactic. it works as your eyes widen and your shaky hands come up to move the machine off you.

your legs start to weaken and your eyebrows furrow as your underwear pools with your desire.

"so fuckin' pathetic, you are..." she growls, tightening around your neck, not too tight. but tight enough to where your breath hitches in your throat and you're slightly gasping for air.

"y'know, was gonna try and get along with you tonight, doll."

the pet name makes the wetness in your panties become unbearable.

she continues, "ordered you a drink, cracked a joke 'n everything..."

"but, you're a brat to your core, aren't you? should make you apologize..."

an idea pops into your head, another way to disrespect her. you ponder in your head about how you shouldn't. against your better judgment, you say it anyway.

"make me, then,” your eyes flicker down to her lips.

her cocky expression falters slightly—her eyes threatening to look down at yours as well. and if looks could kill, you would die instantly.

"show me your fuckin' bedroom. now."

you're then peeling yourself off of the door. she takes her hand off your neck and backs up to let you pass. you drag your feet, walking slowly to irritate her further. she doesn't like that one bit.

you feel a hand brush the back of your head and she's harshly pulling you up against her chest by your hair. you feel her warm breath tickling your ear, getting ready to humiliate you even more.

"f-fuck! ow!" you yelp out in pain.

"nuh-uh. hurry the fuck up. move." she whispers into your ear.

sevika lets you go, roughly pushing your head forward to emphasize her point. you decide not to push her as you speed up.

as you enter your room, you let out a shaky breath, scared yet excited about the events about to take place. you're not facing her when you hear your bedroom door slam shut. you stop dead in your tracks.

"what-uhm, what's gonna happen?" you question.

you gasp out in surprise as she spins you around to face her and pushes you onto the bed. your ass rests on the edge of it and you're sitting up straight. sevika towers over you, way taller than usual. she looks like she could devour you as she's undressing you with her eyes.

"gonna hurt you, sweetheart. gonna punish you for being such a mean little brat." she smushes your cheeks together with one hand, causing your saliva to pool from your mouth and wet your lips.

"should've done this ages ago... maybe you'd be better behaved by now."

"p-please. i-'m sorry."

it kills you inside, that you secretly love this. you secretly love the idea of her touching you. punishing you, hurting you until you’re utterly ruined.

you’ve dreamt about this moment in light of all the arguments, yelling, and fighting.

in one swift movement, she stands you back up and takes your place on the bed looking up at you hungrily.

“bend over my knee,” she demands.

you feign disgust, and fear, “wh-what?! n-no i-”

“lay the fuck down, and bend over my knee before i spank your ass raw.”

you obey. she scoots back further on your bed so you can maneuver your way to lay your stomach across her thighs. your upper body and legs rest on the bed as your ass is slightly positioned in the air.

you can’t see her face, but you know sevika’s smirking as she’s finally got you where she wants you.

she coos at you, tugging slightly at the loose shorts you threw on after you got home from the bar, “look at you in these little fuckin’ shorts, so slutty.”

she slides her hand up your outer thigh, moving closer to your ass.

all of a sudden, she pauses her movements.

she leans down, her mouth next to your ear, “we can stop at any time. jus’ let me know, doll.”

your heart clenches at her words, feeling the intense emotion behind them and now knowing deep down that she doesn’t want to actually hurt you.

it turns you on even more.

“want it vika, p-please.”

she lets out a sound that’s of a groan and a growl, “fuck yeah, baby. gonna punish you—gonna make it hurt,”

“gonna take it? gonna be a good girl for me?”

“ye-yes! yes!”

sevika hooks the fingers of her human and mechanical hand under the waist of your shorts and roughly tugs them to the floor.

“fuck… no panties too? my god,” she admires you.

you say nothing as her hand finds its way back to moving up your thigh and finally grips your ass, kneading the plush flesh.

“gonna actually do anything or?…” you get cocky, too impatient to feel her hands on you.

a loud ‘SMACK!’ sounds throughout the ambient space of your bedroom, the pain searing into the skin of your right asscheek, making you scream out into the bedspread.

“fuckin’ brat, like i said.”

you’re met with another ‘SMACK!’ in the same spot. you scream out again except this time, it sounds a hell of a lot more like a moan.

“can’t believe you’re gettin’ off to this. bein' my little painslut…”

she hits you again, “you like when i hurt you? don’t you, baby?”

“yes!” you’re repeating, face still smushed into the blankets.

“what was that?” she presses further as she tangles her hand into your hair and yanks it upwards.

“f-fuck! yes, yes!”

she spanks you again and again, alternating between each cheek until you’re sobbing.

although she hadn’t spanked you more than 15 times, you felt as though it was 10 times that much.

she’s soon rubbing a soothing hand over the expanse of your ass, attempting to calm the ache in your ass while neglecting the one in your cunt.

“my girl. did so good for me, baby. so, so good.”

she sits you up and props you up next to her. you wince as your ass meets the surface of your bed.

“we’re not done. gonna make this pussy feel so good, i’ve been neglecting her haven’t i?”

“mhm…touch me please.” you’re out of it, eyes lazily gazing into hers.

“suppose i should reward you?”

her hands caress the sides of your neck and she captures your lips in a gentle and passionate kiss.

as her lips meet yours, the world is silent, all you can think of is sevika.

the kiss soon turns sloppier, needier. your tongues clash against one another causing saliva to drip down both of your chins.

it’s disgusting really, the definition of swapping spit.

neither of you seems to care though. you both moan through the kisses, gripping at each other.

she breaks the kiss to tear your shirt off your body.

“such pretty tits… so beautiful.”

you lean in and peck her lips, “want you bad, vika. please just fuck me already,” you beg.

“you’re beggin’ me?”

“yeah,” you respond.

“fuckin’ beggin’ me, huh?”

“fuck yeah, baby,” you respond another time, your bedroom eyes never leaving hers.

this back-and-forth dirty talk makes the both of you so wet, that the need between you increases with each exchange.

“you don’t even realize how much of a whore you sound like when you say that shit, baby."

oh, you know.

“i love it,” she doubles back.

“gonna eat you first, get you ready for my cock.”

you pause.

‘she didn’t… did she?!’ you exclaim in your head, incredibly surprised she brought an entire strap-on to your house.

“mm… back the fuck up, lean up against the headboard.”

you do as she says, spreading your legs for her in the process.

“good fuckin’ girl.”

she kisses down your neck, stomach, and thighs—her mouth now dangerously close to your naked cunt.

“perfect pussy… so pretty and wet.” she blows cold air on it, admiring the way you clench as she does so.

she laughs out loud, “you’re clenching around nothing, baby… you need this dick in you.”

you don’t even notice you’re looking up at the ceiling, you then look down at her between your thighs—you notice her pants are pulled off. her mech hand is gripping her black plastic cock through her boy shorts.

it’s huge. you’re not sure if it can even fit inside you and that makes you crave it more.

you moan at the sight, “mhm! yes! need it in my pussy. wanna cum on it.” you manage out. your brain is mush!

“soon,” she promises.

she suddenly delves into your pussy, tongue experimentally licking around your folds, then your hole, and your clit.

you’re on cloud 9. your cunt twitches with need because you can feel every detail of her mouth dragging along your heat.

your moans are uncontrollable as she’s practically making out with your cunt, her spit drips onto your clean bed as she’s sloppily eating your pussy out.

she’s nasty with it, spitting on it, getting it dripping wet for you to take her.

“fuck! please!! gonna cum!” you yell out.

all of a sudden, you’re met with cold air. and your cunt is met with a thought to be forgotten ‘SMACK!’

you yelp out in pain and pleasure, the mix too overwhelming for your poor pussy to handle.

“you cum when i fuckin’ tell you to. ask me if you can come next time.”

“‘m sorry vika! promise i won't do it a-again.”

“yeah, yeah. turn around.”

you whine at the loss of her mouth on you; it just feels so good. but you listen anyway.

you’re in doggy facing the headband with your back slightly arched as you look back at her behind you.

she lifts her shirt over her head; she has nothing on underneath, giving you a full view of her sculpted abs. you graze them with your fingertips, amazed at how beautiful she is.

“beautiful, gorgeous…” you state to her and your eyes meet hers once again, showing her you mean what you’re saying.

she huffs out in…shyness? she looks down at the bedspread below you two and she tugs down her boy shorts, throwing them next to all of the other clothes that are splayed out on the floor.

“gonna put it inside, alright? gonna make you feel it.”

you look forward and your eyes trace the design of your headboard, anticipating her cock pushing inside of you, anticipating the delicious pain.

she eventually does push the toy inside of you, bottoming out quickly.

she gives you a moment to adjust. you both are breathing heavily and your nimble fingers grip at the sheets, mouth forming into the shape of an o because she’s so fucking deep.

one of her hands comes up to force your face into the pillows. she starts to move her hips slowly.

“fuuuuck, doll. arch that back,” she can feel the slow grind of your hips on her clit as you press back into her and arch slightly.

it’s not enough for her. she presses her other hand into the small of your back to truly get it so she’s as deep as she possibly can go in this position.

“oh my f-fucking god!” you’re moaning into the pillows, still as loud as if you were screaming.

she’s sped up now, her plastic cock digging into you swiftly yet deliberately.

“yeah…arch that shit, gimme that pussy, baby.”

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” you’re still moaning into the pillow. you can feel every ridge, every detail of her.

your pussy twitches with need, your slick dripping down your thighs, cunt squelching and eyes rolling to the back of your head because of the rough way she’s handling you.

“can feel you around me, i swear. you’re so tight, baby, s-shit…”

she’s bullying your cunt relentlessly and her dirty talk is making you so unbelievably wet.

“you love this dick, don’t you? you love when i fuck this pussy, huh?”

“yes, vika! yes! just like that! love it!”

“say you’re sorry. say you’re sorry for being such a bratty little bitch.”

“hmmph!” you defy her, for fun perhaps.

she slows down tremendously compared to the pace she set before, giving you shallow thrusts to match your attitude.

“say you’re fuckin’ sorry or I’ll make sure this pussy never cums again. you’re only cumming from me, so you’ll do what the fuck i say.”

whew.

“c’mon, baby say you’re sorry so i can give you this dick. gonna make you cream on it so good if you just let go,”

she continues, “i know you want it… know you want it in your guts. know you want my cum in you," she's delirious.

gripping your hip with her free hand and your hair with the other, she lifts your head out of the pillow so she can hear you better.

you cave.

“i’m sorry, i’m so so sorry, baby. i promise i’ll be good! pleeease just fuck me! need you. need your cum…”

she leans down and kisses the small of your back, “see, now how hard was that?!”

she moves her hips at a faster pace than before, seemingly deeper as well. your face has found its way back down, voice muffled into the sheets.

“yeah, baby, take this shit—take it aaaaalll in this fuckin’ pussy. pussy’s so good for me.”

“oh f-fuck, ‘s so deep!” you look back at her once again. her teeth are biting into her bottom lip, hips snapping against your ass as she stares down at you wildly, watching the toy disappear inside of you.

you then meet her eyes, completely cockdrunk. you beg her again, “please v-vika… need your cum in my pussy. need you to knock me up.”

“give it to me, give me your cum! want it deep in me, wan’ it!”

she growls out, “f-fuck shit’s gonna make me cum.”

“fuckin’ pussy is sucking me in, gonna make me get you pregnant, baby,”

her hips are still pistoning into you, the room filling with sloppy wet noises and smacking skin.

“i’m b-begging you to let me cum, p-please!” you’re still looking into her eyes, kindly asking her for permission to soak her faux dick.

“who’s fucking you then? say my name, doll.”

“you, sevika! you!! you’re the only one,”

“fuck yeah, you whore. ‘m the only one that’s gonna be in this shit from now on. that’s right…”

“plea-”

“cum. i want you to cum on this cock, make it yours. cum all over it,” she’s thrusting against your g-spot as deep as she can with one of her legs on the bed and her hands on your hips. you have no choice but to just, take it.

her words cause the coil in your tummy to snap, your orgasm crashing down on you like a brick to your head. like if a large rock were to crush you and kill you instantly. it’s rough, it’s overwhelming.

“fuck!!” you scream through it.

“i’m cummin’ too!! not gonna pull out. i’m gonna put a baby in you, get you nice and full,”

“mhm!! yes!”

the combination of you urging her on and the pressure of her hips and your ass fucking back onto them causes her movements to stutter, “s-shit!”

her orgasm washes over her much like yours, both her hands on your hips making it easier for her cock to kiss your cervix and for her clit to feel it.

you both eventually come down from your highs. sevika pulls out of you and quickly yanks the toy off.

you’re still in the same position so she presses down on your back to get you to rest your body on the comfortable and soft surface of your bed. you’re expecting her to tug her clothes back on and leave, but she doesn’t.

she praises you for the rest of the night, rubs aloe gel on your ass to soothe the welts, and loves on you as if she’d never hated you in the first place.

“you did so good, baby.”

“i’m so proud of you, you’re amazing.”

“you’re so pretty… you’re mine now.”

…

needless to say… she’s ruined you for everyone else. your petty rivalry long forgotten and replaced with the feelings that you’ve both been hiding. and as you’re both waltzing into silco’s office for a second meeting, he’s hoping for but not expecting for there to be a change in your relationship.

he is stunned when he’s met with no more eye rolls, scoffs, and bickering.

‘wonder what’s gotten into the two of them…’ he wonders.

well, something has definitely gotten into you.

…

I AM SO SORRY I HAVEN’T POSTED!! finals are over so i am free from the shackles of college! (for now…)

hope you guys like it! tbh this took me forever because i couldn’t figure out the plot LMFAKOW😭😭

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ihangelic · 8 months ago

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KISS CULTURE ꒱ m.jaehyun

synopsis. after his xmas date doesn’t go to plan, you’re now taking care of a sick and clingy jaehyun that’s determined to get you under the mistletoe despite everything. (alternatively: jaehyun’s sick, horny, and very persuasive.)

pair. jaehyun x afab!reader

genre. smut but also lots of fluff, small attempts at humor

warnings. established relationship, jae’s endearingly annoying, no pronouns used for reader, petnames (baby, ‘princess’ used twice), switch vibes? (not sure but it’s hot), making out, reader wears knee-high socks & jae really likes them, kitchen sex, oral (reader receiving), hardly mentioned exhibitionism? (you fuck in front of a window but nobody can see), jae licks your thighs lol, creampie, aftercare

wc. 4.7k

note. #thighmanjaehyun (>u<) please consider reblogging if you like this! it helps spread an author’s work and gives us motivation to write more. <3

it’s 7:30 in the evening. by this time jaehyun thought he’d have your hand in his and your cup of hot coco in the other, walking while looking at the christmas lights and displays— probably stopping every so often when a cute little shop catches your eye. and then jaehyun would take the opportunity to ‘coolly’ pick up whatever you’re admiring right after you set it down, insisting on buying it for you.

well, he certainly isn’t looking very cool right now and neither does he feel it— because you have him lying down in your bed, wrapped in 3 layers of blankets despite him sincerely trying to tell you he’s not even cold.

“i knew there was a possibility we’d end up in bed together by the end of the night, but i didn’t think you’d be the one to make the first move.” jaehyun jokes, signature puppy smile and laugh suddenly disappearing when a cough distorts his features.

“oh my gosh, baby. just shut up and lay down.”

you nag like a worried mother as you try to make jaehyun lay against the angled pillows you’ve tentatively arranged— rather than sitting up on your headboard like he currently is.

“wow, so desperate. not even gonna do a little foreplay before you get in my pants?”

“jaehyun!”

he giggles, all maniacal and cute like usual, making it all the way through without coughing this time.

“see that!” your boyfriend points out the small triumph, sitting up again right after you finally got him to lay in the right position. you don’t withhold your sigh of disapproval.

“i don’t even feel that bad! it’s just a little migraine and drainage. i can still take you out, baby.”

“no. going outside will probably just make you worse. we’re staying in and i’m taking care of you.” you insist.

jaehyun pouts, looking up at you with boba eyes that beg for you to just let him take you on the date he came over to execute. his cute little face almost convinces you if it weren’t for his ‘shining’ eyes that eventually drip from how watery they are, realizing it’s from irritation.

“i’ll go get you some tissues.” you say with concern, standing up immediately as the first tear streaks down his cheek. jaehyun groans and his cheeks burn in embarrassment, cringing at his failed attempt to ‘woo’ you into having his way while rubbing at the moisture with his sleeve.

you return quickly with a box of tissues cradled against your body, a bottle of medicine and cup of water in either of your hands.

“nooooo!” jaehyun childishly whines, flopping his head against your pillows and splaying his arms for extra dramatics. you’re not sure if the reaction is because he’s anticipating the gross taste of the medicine or if he sees taking the liquid as admitting defeat; that yes, he is in fact sick— and that means taking you out for a date is totally out of the question.

“yunie, come on. be good and take your medicine.”

he responds with a sigh, but otherwise gives in without any fight, surprising even himself with a sudden wave of weakness. (and…okay, maybe he isn’t feeling at his best right now.) so he begrudgingly lets you play nurse, defiant wiggling against the sheets coming to a stop— but it isn’t without a grumpy pout on his face as he refuses to look at you.

(you can't help but find his avoidant eyes and immature act a little cute.)

“good boy.” you say without thinking, focusing on opening the childproof lid of the medicine bottle.

but your boyfriend definitely notices the little pet name, his heart jumping as his eyes flick to your face for just a second before he remembers he’s supposed to be pouting, looking back down to his hands resting over his blanket covered chest.

unbeknownst to your boyfriend's inner struggle, you pour the thick purple liquid inside the cap until it reaches the measuring line, sitting the bottle down and slowly bringing the medicine to jaehyun’s mouth. he responds exactly how you thought he would— which isn’t well.

jerking his head to the side to escape the cursed purple sludge that the bottle’s wrapper swears is flavored ‘bursting berry blast’ (whatever the fuck that means? jaehyun doesn’t want his berries to burst nor blast), he simultaneously grabs your wrist that holds the cap.

you’re not annoyed— honestly you’re still pretty endeared by your crybaby of a boyfriend. but you do actually want him to take the medicine. he needs it. so you try to put your foot down, sighing a little more roughly before speaking.

“baby, please don’t make this difficult. i think you’ll survive one swig.”

“i hate that stuff, y/n! it makes me gag!”

you poorly resist laughing at how ridiculous jaehyun looks as he desperately tries to puppy-dog eye his way out of the situation again, in the back of your mind wondering how often you’ve let him have his way for him to repeatedly try this trick on you.

“tough it out, princess.”

“God, you’re so mean to meeee!” he whines and squirms, abruptly stopping with a gasp as you can tell an idea has struck him.

“wait, i know!”

“what?” you ask suspiciously, having this funny feeling that his idea probably doesn’t involve him actually taking the medicine and has everything to do with distracting you.

jaehyun’s bright expression turns into a proud smirk as he lifts a brow while looking at you. “kiss me and then i’ll take the medicine.”

(…well, you were partially right— kinda.)

“take the medicine and then i’ll kiss you.”

and jaehyun (ever the beggar and evidently not the chooser of tonight) agrees. “fine. but pour it down my mouth quickly so i can take this nasty shit like a shot.”

you smile smugly at getting your difficult boyfriend to agree and jaehyun is forced to see your stupidly cocky (yet undeniably pretty) face as one of your hands grasps his tilted chin to make sure he stays in place. leaning closer until your chest to chest (which must excite jaehyun a little, because you swear you hear and feel his breathing pick up at the press of your breasts against his pecs, hand moving to rest on the small of your back), you raise the cap to his lips and he obediently opens them (thank God). doing as he asked, you pour the liquid quickly into his mouth. jaehyun swallows it with a grimace, gagging immediately after.

“quick, kiss me!” he cries as though your lips on his will take the bad taste away.

you pull yourself out of his hold before he can force one on you— jaehyun’s squeezed shut eyes opening wide while he watches with clear betrayal as you get up from the bed to put some extra distance between the two of you.

“you…lied to me?” the boy asks, and you’re shocked at how much guilt strikes your heart when he speaks in such a soft, surprisingly heartbroken sounding tone.

“i’ll still kiss you. i just didn’t say when i’d do it.”

despite trying to say it gently, jaehyun’s eyes still sadly sink to the floor, a pout yet again forming on his lips as he turns on his side and lays down against the pillows. you wait for him to whine and complain so you’ll know he’s back to normal and not legitimately sad— but he doesn’t.

walking forward to the side of the bed he’s occupying, you kneel down, his sad little squished face revealed to you. “baby..when you get better i promise to give you all the kisses you want. you wouldn’t want to get me sick too, would you? then i wouldn’t be able to take care of you.”

“i really don’t think i’m sick though. it just feels like bad allergies.” jaehyun softly rebuttals, shiny eyes looking at your soft gaze adorably. (and at that moment you really do wish you could kiss him.)

combing your nails through his hair as you speak, jaehyun’s eyes flutter shut at the soothing sensations before blinking them slowly open again.

“can’t risk it.” you whisper. “i’m sorry, baby.”

“it’s okay.” he reassures you, moved by your genuine apology. “i was just really looking forward to this evening. while we walked around looking at lights, i wanted to buy you hot coco and stuff from the shops. n’ after i wanted to take you to the pavilion at the square.”

you coo, heart fluttering at how romantic jaehyun can be. “aw, that’s a really good date idea, baby. i bet they have the pavilion decorated all pretty for the holidays.”

“yeah, they do. there’s even mistletoe hung on the ceiling. wanted to kiss you under it while surrounded by all the pretty lights…”

you pause, cheeks warming at his soft confession as giddiness fills your heart. goosebumps cover your arms despite feeling very warm.

you press a kiss against his forehead, unable to help it. jaehyun’s tiny frown turns into a soft smile instead.

“i love you. fuck, you’re the sweetest. don’t talk like we can’t do that anymore just because you’re sick right now. the moment you’re healthy again you better take me on that date.”

jaehyun giggles softly, even when a small cough interrupts it— there’s still a smile on his face.

“you got it, princess. i love you too.”

you wake up in the morning to the soft smell of eucalyptus, the scent left over from the vaporizer you turned on for the night in hopes it would help jaehyun’s drainage.

normally you’d feel the comforting weight of jaehyun’s arms around you, but you don’t. confused, you turn over to see the spot next to you empty. rising from the bed with the intention of finding your missing boyfriend, the moment your feet hit the cold hardwood floors you’re pausing the search to put some high socks on before immediately going back to your pursuit. (it doesn’t take long to find him, being that your apartment isn’t the biggest.) you somewhat groggily walk through the hallway and end up in the kitchen— where you see jaehyun standing over the stove, sizzling something in a pan.

“morning, beautiful!” he smiles, all chipper and completely awake. “do you want an egg over your rice?”

“…aren’t you still sick?” you ask, morning voice apparent— and jaehyun notices it, judging by the teasing little spark in his eyes, but he doesn’t act on it as he responds to you.

“nope, i feel great! all back to normal. i told you it was just allergies, baby.”

“well, i’m glad i was wrong.” you smile, walking closer to wrap your arms around his middle and rest your head on his back. “and yes, i’d like an egg with my rice please.”

“i gotchu, baby. while i finish our breakfast why don’t you go brush your teeth? i recall being promised ‘all the kisses i want’, but i can smell your morning breath from here.”

you gasp with offense and softly slap your hand on jaehyun’s back, the boy laughing as he looks down at your playfully annoyed expression.

“mean!” you whine, failing to conceal your smile.

“i’m just trying to get back at you for last night.” jaehyun defends, apologizes tacked on after to make sure you know he’s genuinely kidding— but regardless you do descend to the bathroom to wash your face, brush your teeth, and rangle with your bed head— not bothering to change out of your cozy pajamas.

you and jaehyun eat his yummy breakfast at your small dining table, the room lit up by the light reflecting off the snow-covered ground outside, shining through your frost framed windows.

after tag teaming the dishes, you’re finishing washing the last plate when you realize jaehyun has left your side.

“jae?” you murmur, setting down the white porcelain and turning your head, only to see your boyfriend absolutely cheesing it up with a sprig of mistletoe between his fingers, holding it above his own head like an adorable idiot.

“oh my God,” you giggle, fondly shaking your head as you abandon the sink and fully turn to face him. “where did you even get that?”

“i may or may not have snuck out early this morning to buy it…” he admits in an almost sheepish tone before quickly covering it up with a ‘flirty’ (endearingly goofy) raise of his brow. “now kiss me! it’s going against culture to not!”

“what culture?” you ask in an incredulous yet obviously amused tone. despite acting difficult, you slowly inch closer and closer to jaehyun.

“chr- christmas culture? saint nick’s? fuck if i know, just kiss me!”

“are you sure you’re not still sick? you sound pretty delirious to me.”

“i’m not!” jaehyun whines dramatically.

you’re unable to control your teasing, even as your feet are about toe to toe with him. “really? i swear your eyes still look a little watery.”

“because, y/n! i’m about to cry if you don’t fucking ki—“

granting him sudden mercy, you wrap your arms around his neck and plant your lips on his.

kissing jaehyun is always amazing, but in this moment it really hits different. the air is warm with the thermostat set high, but your skin remains slightly chilled, creating a heat between the meeting of your mouths. it sends a pleasurable tingle throughout your whole body— and so do jaehyun’s hands, which must have dropped the mistletoe, because they’re roaming all across your back and squeezing appreciatively at your waist and hips.

you’re not sure who’s fault it is for the way things take a turn, the sweet kiss becoming desperate and hungry. maybe it’s the slight chill driving you to want more warmth— the way your nipples remain hard against the rough fabric of your button up pajama shirt, even as jaehyun’s warm hands slip beneath the material to cup your breasts.

all you’re sure of is that you really want to keep kissing jaehyun— but with less clothes.

he must have the same desire because he’s backing you up without breaking the kiss until your back meets the counter, lifting you up and setting you down on it. you wordlessly spread your legs so jaehyun can stand between them, the man humming appreciatively before he eagerly leans into your lips again. his hands work blindly to unbutton your shirt— and judging by the sudden brush of air against your chest bone, he’s doing a good job at it.

when jaehyun parts from your lips to trail his kisses across your jaw and down your neck, a string of spit connects you before shortly breaking. you moan as jaehyun sucks a mark onto the soft part of your neck; the area he knows is your weak spot; that gets you wet and desperate for him every time— while he gently pushes your opened shirt off and lets it slowly fall down your shoulders.

“mmm, jaehyunie. more.” you shudder, your boyfriend responding by grazing his teeth over the sensitive skin of your throat, causing your thighs to tremble with want as you whimper and fist your hands into the material of his shirt.

“look who’s whining now.” jaehyun smirks, his voice taking that deep tone that’s so different from the higher pitched voice he usually speaks with. it sparks a fire in your belly, and suddenly all you want is for him to keep kindling it.

“pleease, yunie. touch me more.”

“okay, baby.” he whispers, leaning down to give one of your nipples a quick peck, leaving it glistening.

jaehyun takes one step back to pull his own shirt over his head, your eyes immediately dropping down to his toned stomach— and then even lower, to his hardened length that’s tenting in the confines of his pants. you’re about to express disappointment that he hasn’t removed them yet, but the words die on your tongue when his hands go to your own waistband.

he takes his sweet time, teasing you by slowly pulling them down. when the peek of your white socks are revealed, starting just below your knees— jaehyun’s trek pauses, eyes zeroing in on the sliver of fabric showing.

“jaehyun?” you ask faintly, the words floating in the air like a snowflake that’s about to dissolve. still, it breaks jaehyun somewhat out of his reverie, previously slow pace gone as he impatiently tugs your pants completely off and drops them carelessly to the floor.

“what are these?” he questions breathlessly, both hands holding your calves tenderly.

“my..socks?” you answer, but your tone sounds like it’s a question— confused as to why your boyfriend seems to like the clothing item so much. they’re just plain, no little bow or detail to them at all. “my friend bought them for me.”

“i like them.” jaehyun confirms, one finger slipping beneath the band of one sock to pull it back and snap it against your skin. an airy gasp escapes your lips at the sensation, feeling your clit pulse between you legs.

“you look so sexy in them, baby.”

“y— yeah?”

“yeah.” he says, a little throaty as he bites his lip, eyes roaming from your calves; thighs; to your pantie covered core. he pulls you by the crook of your knees until you're at the edge of the counter, his hot breath puffing between your legs. “but i think they’d look even better framing my head while i eat you out.”

your heart thrums in surprise as jaehyun pulls your panties to the side and immediately attaches his mouth to your wet pussy, groaning at your taste that coats his tongue as he swipes it through your folds.

nudging at your thighs, you understand his signal as you move your legs to rest on his shoulders. you do think it looks sexy; your legs working as a frame— not because of you, but because of your boyfriend’s face stuffed in your pussy while his usually puppy-like eyes now stare up at you wolfish and hungry. you’re glued to his gaze, unable to look away as your mouth drops open with a moan, jaehyun flicking over your clit with his tongue. the action resounds with a wet sound that has your cheeks burning and toes curling with pleasure as you lean back against your hands.

“please, jaehyunie. please, please.” you beg, mind dwindling into too much of a mess for you to even decipher what it is you’re asking for. but of course your boy seems to understand, slipping a single digit into your wanting cunt.

jaehyun easily pushes in knuckle deep, your eager pussy practically sucking him in— so he adds a second finger and looks back up just in time to see your eyes roll back.

“ah, that’s what princess needed, isn’t it? pussy needs filled up?”

your brain short circuits for a moment before you nod your head, opening your previously squeezed shut eyes to look at him. the second you do, he rewards you with his mouth back on you again, licking and sucking at your clit and folds, moving his head up and down with his enthusiasm. his fingers pump and curl inside your cunt expertly, finding yourself losing control of your reactions and coming closer to release.

jaehyun feels your legs trembling before you’re suddenly hooking your ankles and clenching your thighs around his head, the man moaning in ecstasy as the squishy flesh of your thighs press against his cheeks and create a dizzying pressure on his skull.

his fingers plunge deeper inside of you as his lips stay wrapped around your clit, determined to have you gushing in his mouth— and you do, falling apart with only a wanton whine to warn him as your back arches and eyes close in pleasure.

jaehyun practically growls when he watches your lewd expression as you cum in his mouth; how your hips start to grind against his tongue and fingers as you ride out your high. your skin is now burning hot beneath his fingertips; hair unstyled and a sexy sort of mess as it got disheveled amongst your pleasure; the white light shining through your windows like a halo above your head. (jaehyun’s sure he’s never seen something so beautiful.)

you’re panting when you finally come down, chest heaving and eyes half-lidded as jaehyun licks at his lips, savoring your taste as he stands to his feet.

“still got it in you, baby?” he asks as he looks at you with dark eyes, hand groping himself over his pants.

your pussy yet again clenches with need at the dirty display.

“yes, yunie. want your cock in me.”

at your words, jaehyun pulls his drooling dick out, yanking his pants and underwear down just enough so his balls are free. you slip your panties and socks off (causing jaehyun to curse under his breath at the arousing sight) before getting down from the counter, instead turning around to bend over it. it’s only then that you notice how your windows have the blinds raised up, leaving the two of you completely exposed.

“shit, jae! you just ate me out with the blinds open!”

“yup. and now i’m about to fuck you with the blinds open.”

you lightly flinch when jaehyun slaps his cock against your cunt, smothering it in your juices despite how he’s already lubed up enough by his own slick. despite your muttered words of embarrassment for him to shut the blinds, your back arches as you present yourself to him, causing jaehyun to smirk from behind you.

“nasty little thing, talking like you don’t want to be seen when i can literally see you clenching for it.”

(realistically, you’re on a high floor and the windows are foggy from the temperature difference outside. no one should be able to see you two. but still, the idea excites you and has your pussy pulsing tightly as jaehyun slowly pushes inside.)

“fff— fuck, oh,”

“that’s it.” jaehyun hisses between his own clenched teeth as he looks down, watching how your cunt sucks him in so eagerly— how it molds perfectly around his cock. his sexy voice does nothing to help your quivering and sensitive insides; how your skin almost tingles with arousal. you only lose more control as jaehyun makes his first deep thrust, falling forward onto the counter as your breasts press against the cold marble.

“shit— please!” you choke, but there’s no need to beg as jaehyun sets the pace.

his fingers find home in the softness of your flesh at the bend of your thigh, holding you in place as his balls slap against you with momentum.

you’ve lost all shame, crying out in pleasure as his hard cock invades your insides, cupping your own tits with your hands to play with your peaked nipples. you can hear jaehyun’s pants behind you— which are turning more moaned and broken by the second.

turning your head to see your gorgeous boyfriend, your eyes lock, and it’s evidently your turn to see his eyes roll to the back of his head.

“fucking shit— fuck! baby, you..you look so g—“ he’s unable to even finish his sentence when you clench tighter around him, cutting himself off with a groan as you’re already reacting to his praise before he’s fully said it. “i— i’m..g— gonna cum if you keep doing that. oh my God.”

“do it, jae.” you croon breathlessly, but jaehyun swears it’s like a siren’s call, sinking him further into delirium. “be a good boy n’ cum in me.”

you watch and listen as your boyfriend lets out another string of expletives, fingers tightening around your hips as he snaps into you even deeper— harder. your mouth hangs open in a silent whine as one of your hands keep working at your bud, moving the other down to swirl around your clit. jaehyun’s cock pulses inside you and you feel the electricity in the air; a band of energy pulling so taught it has to snap.

“give it to me, yunie! please!”

and the band breaks— you and jaehyun’s throaty sounds echo in your apartment as he floods your pussy with his cum, your own release dripping down your thighs. your legs tremble yet you still push back against his cock, getting slower and slower until he has to pull out from sensitivity.

you stay in your bent over position, too tired to move but also appreciating the cold of the counter as you lean down and press your cheek against it. you can barely see jaehyun from the angle before he drops to his knees, slightly trembling hands holding onto your thighs. you lift your head, thinking his knees have given out and about to start asking if he’s alright when you feel a stripe being licked up the inner part of your leg.

“jae?”

“just lemme clean you up, baby.” his hot breath puffs against your skin.

you lightly gasp as you feel his hair and nose brushing between your thighs, tongue so close to your heat as he licks up your juices until it’s all gone— and all that remains is a light trail of his glistening saliva from his tentative care.

after tucking himself back inside his pants and grimacing at how dirty he feels, he helps you off the counter and into his arms as you lean against his chest, still finding your strength.

“we need to clean up.” jaehyun whispers reverently, his hand brushing little shapes and swirls into your spine, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead.

“m’ too weak.” you hardly mutter, letting your eyes fall shut.

“baby…did you forget you’re butt-ass-naked in the kitchen right now?”

your eyes snap open. “oh shit.”

“yeah. but don’t worry about it.” jaehyun says, stopping you with a gentle hand when you try to reach down for your clothes that were previously dropped to the floor. “we’ll take a shower together, hm? i’ll help you.”

another tender kiss to your forehead, a little bit of coaxing— and then you give in, letting yourself be led in jaehyun’s arms to the bathroom.

after showering, more kisses, and getting dressed; your energy has returned— and so has jaehyun’s.

“can i take you on the date now!” he exclaims, practically bouncing off the walls in excitement.

“baby, it’s not evening yet. we won’t even be able to see the christmas lights when the sun’s out.” you reason, and luckily that doesn’t dampen jaehyun’s spirit.

“oh, right! well— then we should marathon some christmas movies while we wait!”

your smile is so big you have to bite your lip to try and contain it, as always finding jaehyun’s usual enthusiasm absolutely heart striking and infectious. you nod your head ‘yes’ and he’s already taking your hand to walk you out of the bedroom and into the living area, rambling on about snacking on popcorn; popping some cookies in the oven; and asking if you have eggnog.

but all his words come to a halt when you sneeze behind him, and it’s like you could hear a pin drop or a snowflake fall.

turning his head and looking at you with eyes so wide they look like they’re about to pop out of his skull, jaehyun’s voice shakes. “please, for saint nick’s fucking sake— please do not tell me you feel sick.”

you hold it in for as long as you can, trying to play the act well and appear as though you’re just as afraid and shocked as him— before you can’t do it anymore, bursting into a fit of laughter as you grab onto your boyfriend’s arm while doubling over.

“i’m just kidding, i’m kidding!”

“oooh, real funny, y/n.” jaehyun responds, rolling his eyes despite the fond smile on his lips. “keep going like this and you’re gonna be on my naughty list.”

“oh?” you smirk, giggles somewhat dying down as you raise a playful brow to your boyfriend. “and what happens if i get on the naughty list?”

“want me to show you?” he challenges, the spark in his eyes mirroring your own, promising mischief.

you never really know how a day’s going to go when you’re with jaehyun, he’s always full of surprises. but one thing you are rather sure of is that this boy is going to make all your christmas wishes come true.

taglist. @zynz0 <3

note. again, plz don’t just like but reblog! thanks for reading <3 i might write another ‘version’ of this fic about the date jaehyun describes wanting to take reader on! all fluff! but i might do a different member, not sure. if you have a preferred member lmk.

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nereidprinc3ss · 10 months ago

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do you believe me now? | 8

it's the morning after. spencer reid suspects you’re left with some doubts after losing your virginity to him. he has to figure out why—which is hard when you're keeping secrets.

series masterlist

this series is 18+ warnings/tags: fem!reader, blood related to losing virginity (dramatized for the drama duh), super vague allusions to the BAU being hungover, mild blasphemy if anyone even cares, pondering god bc am I really a fanfic writer if I don’t get a little religious w it, emily AND hotch are here and nobody knows why pls don't pay attention to that bc we are imagining like season 11/12 spencer and I'm inconsistent w who is unit chief in this series apparently, spencer slut lore, spencer emotional wounds lore, Spencer is a traumatic situationship survivor a/n: DADDYS HOMEEEEE (me and dybmn not spencer) anyway missed these little guys and am happy to be writing for them again!! idk what my upload schedule will becoming back to this but pls lmk what u think of this part, I have no idea how you will respond but I'm being brave and ily

Friday morning Spencer comes into the office fifteen minutes late (he tried his best), in yesterday’s suit (everything in his go-bag had been too wrinkled), hair messy (no doubt from your fingers), coffee cold (he’s exhausted) and overall, in an excellent mood.

The rest of the team isn’t faring quite as well—Spencer gathers they stayed at the bar celebrating Derek’s birthday a lot later than he had. It shows through sallow skin and dark circles and the grimaces he receives on the way to his desk that are probably supposed to approximate good morning’s.

Honestly, he doesn’t mind the dull mood—he doesn’t need the teasing and the prying questions that would be sure to come if his co-workers were at peak performance and were able to put together his unusually perky demeanor and disheveled appearance. At least Prentiss doesn’t appear to be paying him any mind. She’s always the one who can read him like an open book and has no shame in doing so aloud. Echoes from years of, ‘so who was the lucky girl, last night, Reid?’ Still ring through his mind and it’s like he can feel her finger prodding at his side.

The Emily of it all makes him smile, though the rest of the memory leaves a metal tang in his mouth. Back in those days, there were sometimes a lot of girls, but even then he was consciously aware he wasn’t necessarily doing something he enjoyed. He spent a lot of time, actually, staring at his bedroom ceiling, psychoanalyzing himself. Repetition compulsion. The insatiable desire to repeat or reenact emotionally painful experiences. Maybe he thought if he could teach himself to subsist off of emotionless hookups, he could in some way heal from his experience with Elle. Though, he’s hesitant to think of it now as healing—it’s not like he didn’t know what he was doing when a few nights after she said I don’t feel the same I’m sorry he opened up his front door for her. It’s not like he didn’t know what he was doing every time after that. So, maybe heal isn’t the right word, when one doesn’t have the right to be injured. Or when the injuries are, in a manner of speaking, self-inflicted. At the very least he could tell himself that this time around, meaningless sex was a choice he was making for himself. Spencer hates when things just happen to him.

But you—you’re different. You were a complete surprise. At first, a cute and unexpected complication. After a few painful and short-lived attempts at real relationships, Spencer decided he was simply not to be trusted with emotional intimacy of any kind, including that which inevitably develops from physical intimacy, and would resign himself to a life of celibacy. He tried not to like you, but you were just so damn likable. Magnetic, to use a trite and perfectly honest turn of phrase. All that to say: he doesn’t regret you at all. There is no filter of putrid shame or anguish over his memories of last night.

Just you. Perfect. Starlit. Glowing softly around the edges like you’re not even real.

I love you I love you I love you. A hymn with no melody. You, always reminding him exactly why he is decidedly not a man of faith. At least, not in the typical sense of the word.

How God became the idol and not Mary is lost on him. That’s why, Spencer supposes, tapping an eraser on his desk, marriage and sex were forbidden for so many ecclesiastics. After all, if they knew what it was to love a woman, specifically to love you, he doubts they’d feel like spending much time in the pulpit. Love. Humans had that long before they had any gods. It’s primeval. It’s the most natural manifestation of devotion and worship. It will always have come first. Isn’t it a better kind of religion when a man realizes he can kneel in front of a woman rather than an altar?

A heavy hand falling on his shoulder jolts him from his theological musings—which are in all practicality useless. What’s that saying about blasphemous thinking on the FBI’s dime? Right. There isn’t one.

“I’m scared to ask,” Morgan says as Spencer jumps slightly in his chair.

“What?” He mumbles, looking up from the document he’d only sort of been reading.

Morgan just looks at him, strong brows furrowed and a ditch between them, angles his head and glances to the side as if Spencer is missing the obvious. He almost follows Derek’s eye-line. When that doesn’t work, Derek just says your name. Like your status is somehow in question.

“Did you two work things out, or not? It looked pretty bad when you guys were leaving last night.”

People often misunderstand an eidetic memory. It’s not like things can’t slip his mind—Spencer can actually be quite forgetful. It’s made worse by the fact that last night at the bar feels like months ago. For a moment, he has no idea what Derek is referring to.

“Oh. Oh! Right, we—right. Yeah, we, uh—we worked it out.” Before Derek has a chance to read his face, no doubt as incriminating as his fumbled speech and an ill-timed throat clearing, he turns back to his paperwork. “Thanks for keeping an eye on her at the bar. I appreciate that.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and Spencer’s lips twist as he can feel the incoming inappropriate comment.

“Is that the same suit you were wearing last night?” Morgan quips, his wide grin audible. Spencer can practically hear the cartoon gleam of his friend’s bleached teeth.

“No.”

“You dog.” Derek is still smiling as he claps Spencer’s shoulder again. “What did you say to her that worked so well?”

Spencer clears his throat again and tries to look extremely involved in logging onto his computer, speaking quickly as if he’s beyond disinterested and can’t wait for the exchange to be over.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m actually trying to work so if you wouldn’t mind going back to your desk that would be great.”

“Uh-huh. I’ll let you work. But I see you, pretty boy.”

Spencer tries not to blush like a teenager as he refuses to look up.

Naturally the rest of the day is a slow descent into dread and madness as all those good feelings with which Spencer had started his morning begin to harden into something much worse, chilled by your lack of response to the text he sent you earlier. Which was essentially a rehashing of the note he left on your bedside table.

Maybe it was too much. It should’ve been one or the other, but not both. He’s overwhelmed you.

Okay, so maybe this is what religion is for. A last ditch effort when you can’t talk to your girlfriend so you have to try talking to God.

But Spencer knows you, and he knows something is wrong. You wouldn’t just ice him out so blatantly if everything was okay. He catches himself glancing up toward Hotch’s window to see if the blinds are drawn, and considers faking an illness to get out of work early and go check on you. But he powers through the remaining hour and a half that he is obligated to stay at work, he bounces a pencil between his fingers, drums at his desk, and gets nothing else done. As soon as 4:59 rolls around, he’s out.

Spencer can hear shuffling on the other side of your door as he stands in the hallway. A pot clatters. The walls hum with the rush of water through the pipes to your sink. He knocks, relieved that you’re okay and at the same time struggling with that weight on his chest—something cold that leans over his shoulders and whispers into his ear—so she just didn’t want to talk to you.

Suddenly all sound from inside your unit ceases. For a few long seconds, Spencer’s confusion only grows exponentially.

“Who is it?” You finally call, voice wavering. Also odd. Usually you just open the door.

“Um… Spencer?”

“As in my boyfriend Spencer?”

He frowns, bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly as he tries to decipher your sudden paranoia. “I hope so?”

The click and jingle of several locks precipitates your much-anticipated reveal.

“Come in,” you say breathlessly, more harried than usual and not giving him the tender greeting he’s selfishly become accustomed to—barely even giving him a second to look at you. But he steps inside, watching on in concern as you do up every single lock—the one on the knob, the deadbolt, even the chain. Is this really all because of his little comment last night about anyone being able to get in? He certainly hopes not. He didn’t mean to terrify you.

When you finally turn, he takes stock of your appearance. Big hoodie, pajama pants patterned in little hearts. Hair pulled back hastily. Your skin is sort of dull where you normally glow. But you’re beautiful, like always. It always aches just a little bit to look at you. Spencer’s always been like that. Going breathless at a particularly good piece of art or pretty girl. Like yourself. Mostly you.

You quickly turn to hurry back into the kitchen. “I was trying to make dinner, I—”

“Hold on,” he interrupts, stopping you with a hand on your stomach that is so non-demanding it’s really mostly a suggestion. He tries to clear his head, though you make it hard. “You didn’t talk to me all day. Not that you have to, but… I was worried.”

You glance at the floor and mumble, “I lost my phone,” with so much embarrassment he believes you’re telling the truth. “Did you, um—did you text me?”

Insecurity. Spencer knows well what it looks like on you. He softens. You weren’t ignoring him—but you’d been left in a vulnerable state without any ability to contact him or anyone. That couldn’t have been comfortable.

“Of course I did.” He pauses to observe you. Still anxious. Still prepared to run at any second. Something, and he’s not sure what, did a number on you today. Maybe it’s sheer exhaustion, maybe it was the anxiety of not having your phone. But he has to figure out what it is so he can undo it. “What? What’s wrong?”

He watches your breathing pause—watches your eyes gloss over with tears and a frown contort your features. Oh, god. He’s done something terribly wrong. It’s been thirty seconds and he’s done something wrong.

“Can we sit down? I don’t feel very good.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we can. Whatever you need.”

You cast a baleful look at him and now he has to wonder what that means. Spencer sets his bag on a pulled out dining chair and follows you to the couch where you settle on opposite sides—you’re curled up in the far corner, hugging a pillow to your chest with your legs folded in front of you. Spencer’s heart is beating fast. He doesn’t know what’s going on with you and he can’t figure it out just by looking and you don’t seem eager to tell him.

He’s exhausted all his typical ways of collecting information, and now he’s at a loss.

Eventually, the anxiety comes bubbling up.

“Please talk to me,” he pleads. And you do. Almost instantly, like he stepped on some sort of landmine.

“I know it’s my own fault for not having my phone on me and not being able to see your texts, but it really sucks that I had to find out from my creepy neighbor that you snuck out in the middle of the night without saying goodbye.”

The whiplash is so strong it’s almost a broken neck. Spencer reels, frowning deeply as he tries to process your impromptu speech, the sudden confrontation. What creepy neighbor?

“I… didn’t. I went to grab my stuff from the car around one, but I came right back. I left at 7:30. You don’t remember me saying goodbye?”

Your brow furrows, and your eyes dart over the design on the rug like you’re watching memories go by. He sees it in your eyes when you recall some hazy image of him holding your face, kissing your cheek more times than was necessary and whispering sweet things against your lips before he had to go. You shrink into the couch, clearly struggling under the combined weight of relief and embarrassment.

“I forgot. I thought… he said…”

A moment passes and it’s clear you’ve abandoned the sentence. Spencer is concerned about this shadowy male figure who put malicious untruths into your head. He slides his hand under yours and twines your fingers together. Finally, finally you meet his gaze.

“Someone made you believe I left without saying goodbye.”

And he almost wishes you weren’t looking at him as more tears pool before falling down your cheeks. You nod, and don’t make a sound.

“No, honey. I didn’t do that. I’m sorry that’s what you’ve been thinking all day.”

“I was worried that you… or that I wasn’t…”

His chest aches. You’d woken up alone, no recollection of his goodbye, and without the comfort of even a text.

“You didn’t see my note?”

The way you look at him then is heartbreaking. Eyes wide and wet and sad, lip trembling.

“You left a note?”

Murphy’s Law. Anything that can go wrong, will.

It must’ve fallen off the bedside table, or maybe he just hadn’t positioned it obviously enough.

A lost phone, a missed note, and not even a memory of his departure. While none of these things are verifiably Spencer’s fault, he feels so, so guilty.

“I did,” Spencer says gently, scooting closer and pulling you into him, head pressed to his shoulder as you try not to cry, and he rubs your back slowly.

Your sulky words are muffled by his shirt. “I didn’t see it. What did it say?”

“A lot of very nice things about you,” he whispers. Spencer thought maybe he could get away with giving you all the sincere compliments you can’t accept face to face through a note you could read while he wasn’t around. That way you couldn’t refute them or stop him. It was a good plan.

He feels the sigh of relief leaving your body against his neck.

“I didn’t know.”

“I know. I’m sorry. That’s not… I should’ve just stayed. This is my fault.”

You keep your cheek pressed to his shoulder as you speak.

“It’s not. You have a job. A really important job. You can’t just call out whenever I want you around.”

Logically he knows you’re right, but he doesn’t always think logically around you.

“I could’ve made it work. I could’ve come in late, or the team could’ve called me if there was a case, which there wasn’t—”

“Spencer, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. Don’t worry about it.”

He pulls back slightly, frowning at your tone. You do look relieved, much less plagued than you’d been when he arrived minutes ago, but something heavy still weighs you down. The burden of it darkens your eyes and dulls your expression. When he cups your cheek, you glance up at him, and then away once more.

He speaks softly. “Is that all you wanted to tell me?”

Again he earns a moment of your eye contact, but it’s fleeting. He watches the words spin around your head as you try to figure out what to do with them—and then choose to remain silent.

There is in fact something you’re keeping from him.

Spencer hates to use work tactics on you, but he doesn’t speak either, hoping that you’ll feel compelled to fill the silence with the truth. Knowing how you’re not entirely comfortable with quiet.

And you try, lips parting and the sound delayed as you wrestle with something you clearly don’t know how to talk about.

“I… my neighbor,” you say, frowning like you don’t quite know why you’re speaking. “The one who told me he saw you leaving in the middle of the night. He also—he said…”

Spencer brushes hair away from your cheek with a thumb, stroking the high point in gentle passes as your words taper off. Now that he’s thinking about it, he did encounter a man in a dumpy robe standing in the courtyard and smoking a cigarette when he left you tangled in sheets and dozing contentedly to get his bag from the car. In fact, they rode back up to your floor in the elevator in mostly awkward silence. Spencer was sure his outfit told a story—shirt untucked and hastily buttoned only partway, no belt, shoes barely tied, duffel slung over his shoulder—he wasn’t really expecting to run into anyone at such an hour, to be honest, but he hadn’t particularly cared what this man thought of him, so it didn’t cross his mind again.

Now he remembers.

Long night, huh? I remember those days.

It was an inappropriate comment, but given his job he’s used to ignoring those. Mostly his mind had been preoccupied with the idea of returning to you, who gave him such a warm and sleepy welcome when he climbed carefully back into your arms several minutes later that it was like he’d never known anyone else at all.

Now he resents that he hadn’t said anything, he hates the idea that you spoke to this man and he said something to upset you and Spencer wasn’t there. Usually he tries not a judge a book by its cover (metaphorically, of course) but he’s been around enough bad men to know when he’s looking at one. Last night he hadn’t even been cognizant enough to realize they got off on the same floor.

“What did he say, angel?” Spencer whispers, incapable of being anything but soft with you at the moment. Even though he senses something a lot like a tide of preemptive anger rising in his chest, painted over with layers of anxiety and guilt. He should’ve found a way to stay with you this morning.

You sniffle and let your head fall again, forehead resting against his collar. Instinctively his hand slides to the back of your neck and even at the awkward angle he finds a way to press his lips to yours hair. “Can we talk about it later? I don’t feel good.”

If it’s making you this uncomfortable, Spencer really wants to know what passed between you and this neighbor. In fact, he’d be willing to bet a lot of your strange behavior this evening stems from something that occurred which you don’t feel comfortable telling him yet. But he manages to bite back anymore questions. He doesn’t want to make you feel interrogated.

“Yeah, you mentioned that,” he says eventually, kindly, hand tracing down the length of your back and up again. “Why don’t you feel good?”

He doesn’t miss the way you reach up to discreetly wipe your cheek. But he won’t make you talk about anything you don’t want to talk about until you’re ready, and it seems like you’re already having a rough day. Which is not what he wanted. This is so far from what he wanted for you. He’s cursing himself for how he handled this whole situation.

“Um, I just… I don’t know. I feel… bad. I’m sorry I’m being so weird.”

“You’re not being weird, honey. You had a hard day. You’re having a normal reaction to an abnormal set of circumstances.”

You sit up, sniffing and wiping your tears like you can just make the whole thing go away.

“No, I am. I am. It’s all okay now, right? So I don’t know why I feel like this. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He watches helplessly. “Nothing is wrong with you. We’ve… it’s been a big couple of days. Mostly good, but I think you’re probably really tired. Emotionally and physically.”

You bury your face in your hands and nod silently. He still feels like he’s shooting in the dark, but you’re not entirely comforted yet, and it’s killing him.

“Whatever you’re feeling is okay. If this is… about last night, or this morning, or something entirely different—regardless of what it’s about, you’re not going to be… in trouble with me if you’re having complicated feelings. And you can talk to me. But it doesn’t have to be right now. We don’t have to figure it out all at once, okay?”

You press the heels of your palms into your eyes, and for a moment, his words sink into silence. When you do raise your head, nodding, the evidence of your discomfort is all over your face—reddened eyes, cheeks polished with wiped tears. But you take a deep breath and try to project whatever it is you think he wants to see.

The back of your hand is soft under his thumb as he sweeps it, as if he could draw forth more information that way. People speak when they’re ready.

“Is there anything I can do?” He tries, all ramped brow and soft spoken.

You’re looking at where he’s tracing swirls on your hand as you swallow and blink the last of your tears away.

“Um… you can say no, but—do you think it would be okay for you to maybe stay again tonight?”

Spencer sucks in a breath, painfully aware that he’s about to let you down.

“I… I haven’t been home in a week. I’ve been wearing this suit for two days straight and I don’t think I would want to share a bed with me again until I shower.” He watches you wilt and lifts a hand to stroke your hair. “But I do want to spend time with you… do you maybe want to come stay with me instead? No pressure—”

“Okay. Yes. Is that okay?”

Spencer’s brow knits. You seem even more enthused about the idea of going to his apartment, like now that the opportunity has presented itself you can’t wait to get out. Maybe you have some sort of black mold problem.

“Of course. Do you wanna grab a few things and then we can go?”

“Um—I also haven’t showered today. Do you mind waiting?”

“Sure. Or you could use mine. With supervision, this time.”

Spencer is attempting to make a joke about your unplanned (and unmoderated) stay at his apartment last week after he left—but looking at your face now he’s wondering if he touched a nerve.

“Like… one at a time? Or…”

He thought maybe you’d be more comfortable around him after last night—and it’s not like he hadn’t seen you naked before then, either.

“Do you wanna do it one at a time?” He asks gently.

There’s this sparkly sort of longing in your eyes that he’s seen before, but you tamp it down like always. You’re so cautious. About everything. Even the things you’re curious about. It’s sweet and a little sad.

“I’ve never… showered with anyone.”

The corner of Spencer’s mouth twitches as he pushes hair over your shoulder. “I know. You don’t have to. We could save like 100 gallons of water depending on how long your showers typically last, but—”

“Spencer—”

“Sorry, sorry—I didn’t—I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not trying to pressure you. You absolutely can take your own shower. You can go first so you get the hot water.”

“No,” you laugh, and it’s like a sparkling cloud of gold has settled around you, fractals bouncing off the shine of your cheeks and eyes—the sound of your laughter, the look of it, is such beautiful relief he can’t believe how good it feels, but it fades from you quickly. “It sounds… I think I want to, I just… I don’t wanna, like… do… anything.”

For a split second your veiled language mystifies him and then he realizes what you’re trying to say without saying. Something has changed since yesterday, when you brazenly referred to it as fucking, and today, when you can’t even say sex. He’s gotten as far as it being something your creepy neighbor said. Maybe. He needs to know what.

But that’s not the topic at hand.

“We don’t have to. I didn’t mean to imply that we would do anything like that. I don’t expect anything from you.”

You swallow.

“Okay. I wasn’t sure.”

About what?

He says your name. No response.

“Can you look at me, please?”

It takes you a moment, and your head raises like you might need some oil in your hinges, but eventually you manage. Spencer hopes the way he’s rubbing your leg is comforting.

“You know I’m never, ever going to make you do anything you don’t want to do, right?”

To his horror, your answer isn’t an immediate and resounding yes. Instead you look back down and cover his hand with your own, fiddling nervously with his fingers.

Eventually, you reply, “Yeah… I know. I just thought… I’m not sure. Maybe it’s supposed to be different now.”

“It doesn’t have to be. Nothing has to be different. We’re still doing everything on your schedule, okay? And as for the next few days, at least—I think it might be a good idea to take sex off the table altogether.”

Your eyes narrow and you hesitate. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want you worrying about it. And I don’t think it would feel good for you right now. I think there are things we need to talk about, but… we’ve probably tried enough for a while, hm?”

You give him a shy nod and hum your agreement. For a moment he lets his hand linger on your leg and then pulls it back.

“Okay. Do you want my help packing a bag, or should I wait out here?”

“You can wait. It should only take a minute.” You pause, halfway up to look pensive. “Um, Spencer—do you think it would be okay if maybe I… if I stayed tonight and tomorrow? I just—I wanna get out of here, for a bit.”

He frowns but doesn’t hesitate. “Of course. Can I ask why?”

“It’s just… suffocating sometimes,” you call as you turn and hurry down the hallway to the bedroom. “Feels like my neighbors are on top of me, like they’re… breathing down my neck, half the time.”

Sure, bigger apartments exist—but it’s not like you’re in a studio. And you’ve never mentioned feeling that way before. That bad feeling is starting to come back—like you’re not telling him something he needs to know. But is it worse to let you deal with it yourself until you’re ready to talk or to force it from you?

A few minutes later you return, a duffel of your own over your shoulder and full to bursting.

“So I’m an idiot. My phone was literally in the pocket of my jeans on the floor.” You drop the bag as you bend down by the door to pull on your favorite slippers. “Oh—I think I forgot my charger, can you grab it? It’s by my bed.”

Spencer of course obliges, and is secretly pleased to be in your room again, in the light this time, so he can see better. It’s sweet. The pictures on the walls, the plants and the knickknacks and the sticky notes scrawled with messy reminders on every surface and the sweater hanging over the back of a chair—the one you’d been wearing at the cafe all those months ago—it all feels so you. He wonders why the two of you don’t spend more time here.

He lets himself linger for only a minute before remembering his task, but as he reaches down to unplug your charger, whatever dopey smile he’d been wearing evaporates. The sheets have been stripped from your bed, and he can see why—there’s a striking stain of dried blood, and several surrounding dots, soaked into the mattress. Not much, but enough to make him feel horrendously guilty. He cringes, imagining what it must’ve been like to wake up all alone to nothing but your own blood. Poor girl. Of course he’d noticed some, last night when he was doing his best at cleaning you up, but it had been dark, and he was exhausted, and he hadn’t done enough.

“Where’d your sheets go, baby?” He asks once back by the front door with his own bag on his shoulder, setting a gentle hand on your lower back and holding out your charger for you. You jump slightly, and he makes circles on your back, wishing there was something he could do to settle you.

“Oh! They—they got ruined. I threw them out. It’s fine. I have others.”

So you didn’t have enough energy this morning to walk a few feet to your shower, but stripping your bed, getting dressed, and walking down to the trash chute at the end of the hall had been top of your priority list.

You swallow as he undoes the locks and holds the door open for you, and pretend like you’re not doing surveillance to either side as you stand in the hallway, locking your door again like you can’t get out of here fast enough.

Spencer casts a sidelong glance at you and wonders if you’re intentionally avoiding eye contact. He tries not to think like a profiler. He tries not to assign meaning to your actions, but he can’t help it. He can’t not notice.

He can’t not worry.

And he can’t not wonder what you’re not telling him.

part nine

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic

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parfaitblogs · 10 months ago

Note

(totally not based on my day) but a simple request for spencer helping reader out with a bunch of chores bc she's overwhelmed with life and she decides to thank him with like the quote "best head of his life" and he's like "its okay you dont have to do that" and she's responds "but i am anyways"

it will come back ❀ s. reid x reader

in which spencer reid helps you when you're (very) overwhelmed, and you might need to return the favour. pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: comfort & smut (18+ mdni) tags: oral (m receiving). praise. established relationship. reader's overwhelmed overstimulated overworked... very enthusiastic head giver!reader. use of honey and angel. they love each other a lot. i love them a lot. i don’t think there’s d/s dynamics but if there are it’s soft dom spencer (nobody’s shocked). word count: 3.1k a/n: thank u sooo much for reading my brain ily i need to give spencer reid head asap. new format/layout for requests sort of its the same as my normal post layout... do we like... i sure freaking hope so. as always lmk if u liked this or even if u didn't but preferably if u did!!

You were exhausted. For three weeks straight, you had been working nonstop, with a wondrous total of eight hours in between shifts. You were hardly sleeping, you had hardly had a social life, hell, you never even had time to enjoy the simple pleasures of an everything shower. You felt groggy, and cramped, and everyday felt like an awful repeat of the last. A nightmare that never ended.

Never mind the fact that you hadn't seen your boyfriend.

Always home too late to be with him in the evenings, and up too early to get coffee with him before your days started. Spencer was so patient with you, regardless. He knew it would end eventually, and he would get his girlfriend back. It was just for the month, was what you would text each other whenever the other began feeling particularly lonely. He didn't even like texting, but the time for a simple phone call wasn't available to you anymore.

And your apartment. Every time you stepped into it you swore a new dirty dish materialised in your sink, or a new pile of clothes sat themselves in your bedroom floor. Which was odd, because you had rotated between the same two outfits for the last eighteen days — your work uniform, or your pyjamas.

You were overwhelmed with it all. Even as your hectic work life came to an end, and you were waking up to the sunlight pouring into your room, instead of an alarm clock while the moon was still up. You were acutely aware of the mess of your apartment, and just the thought of it all left you lying motionless in your bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Tears stung your vision as you felt the seconds tick into minutes, and nothing happened. Attempting to will yourself to get up, and yet you simply couldn't. Exhausted beyond belief, with limbs sinking into the mattress and melding to the sheets.

You faintly heard the click of your front door lock, and if you had any more motivation in you, you'd probably get up to double check it was the only other person who had a key to your apartment, and not a burglar. Thankfully, you didn't have to, for Spencer was calling out your name, gently.

Too exhausted to even reply and alert him of where you were, you lay still until he had found you in your bedroom, his bad dropping by the doorway, feet shuffling against the rug.

"Good afternoon," he said, finding a seat on the edge of your bed, hand resting atop your thigh, gentle circles being rubbed into the skin.

"Is it already afternoon?" you asked him, voice quiet.

"Yeah. How long have you been awake in bed?"

"I don't know," you answered, voice awfully small as you felt the thick weight of frustration with yourself blanket over you. "I need to get up. The apartment's a mess."

"It's allowed to be," he said. "You've been doing sixteen hour days."

"Yeah, but I'm not today. I have the day off."

"Your first day off in weeks. I'd be concerned if you'd spent it productively."

You stared at him, unsure if the irritation that settled in your bones was because of his insistence that you not doing a thing was okay, or your exhaustion. Logically, it would be the latter. You did know that, deep down.

Upon seeing your eyes delve into something a little more desperate, he sighed, hand sliding up to your own, gently tugging you up into a seated position. His eyebrows knitted together at your exhausted look, and you could see his brain ticking behind his eyes.

"Do you want to split the tasks?" he finally asked.

"You don't have to," you shrugged your shoulders. "It's my mess."

"Honey, you're already overwhelmed, and all you've done is wake up," he answered, thumb drawing circles on the top of your hand that he still seemed to have clasped within his own. "Let me help."

"It's really gross."

"I've seen mutilated dead bodies."

"I'd argue my kitchen sink is worse."

"Oh would you?" his eyebrows shot up, lips twitching in amusement, that you found solace in, distracting you slightly from your overstimulated mind. "Do you want to have a shower?"

"Yes," you nodded your head, brain ticking over all the personal hygiene tasks you had been neglecting over the past few weeks.

"How about you go shower, I'll start cleaning up, and you come join me when you're feeling better?"

Despite your aversion to anybody but yourself tackling the mess of your apartment, you knew better than to deny Spencer any further — he had set his mind on helping you.

Sighing, you nodded your head in defeat. He had coaxed you up off the bed, gotten you to the bathroom, even found you a fresh set of clothes to wear, and waited with you for the water to warm up. It was really only once he was absolutely sure you had gotten into the shower, did he leave you be, and disappeared from the bathroom.

Eventually, the apartment had been cleaned, with efforts from the both of you getting it to where it now was.

You were a lot less exhausted, and your brain was a lot less fried now that you didn't have a million tasks catalogued within it to get done.

You were lying in your freshly made bed — courtesy of Spencer. Your head on his chest, fidgeting with one of his hands as he used the other to wave around as he rambled about something you were no longer following. It had started as a simple explanation for why you had been so overwhelmed in the first place. Which you had asked as a rhetoric, but didn't have the heart to stop him when he began explaining.

"You're not listening, are you?" he asked, free hand poking your side and emitting an involuntary laugh from you at the feeling.

"I am, I am! I'm just not following anymore."

"Sorry."

"It's okay," you replied, turning and poking your head up to be level with his. "I like hearing you speak, anyways. Doesn't matter if I don't understand."

He only hummed as a response, and the two of you stared at each other for a beat, before you were breaking out into a smile.

"Hi," you chirped.

"Hello," he answered, perhaps a little too amused by your sudden energy. "Would you like something?"

"A kiss?"

"After all that labour I just put in for you?" he mused, but he was already lifting his head to brush his lips against yours, and was most certainly not pulling away when you eagerly connected them properly.

You pulled back after a few moments, searching his face. "Do you want something for all that labour?"

His hand trailed up your spine, fingertips triggering a shiver to run up your back. "What do you have in mind?"

"I could give you the best head of your life."

He was clearly not expecting that as an offer, perhaps because you never had offered such a thing before. It wasn't even something you had talked about, which was bizarre (in your mind), considering he was quite enthusiastic about using his mouth on you.

"You don't need to do that," he shook his head, but with how close your faces were, you could see the instant dilation in his pupils.

"What if I want to?"

"Then that's very nice of you, but my point still stands," he replied.

"Spencer, let me do something in return," your voice was nothing short of a whine, and if he was any less turned on, maybe it wouldn't have made his firm footed denial falter. Maybe you knew that.

"You could do anything but that."

"So a handjob?"

"Or that."

"You're such an awful liar," you huffed. "I can see your pupils dilating. I know you're turned on by the thought of it."

"It could just be because I'm looking at you," he answered, voice hoarse, no doubt from the arousal he was attempting to deny was there. "Romantic attraction triggers the same response in our hormones."

"But it's not."

He fell silent for a few moments, before he allowed his resolve to slip, shaking his head in agreement with you. "No. It's not."

"See! It's okay if you want it. I'm quite literally offering myself to you," you spouted.

His eyes fluttered shut, and he exhaled through his nose, words coming out through almost gritted teeth. "That's not a sentence you should be saying."

"Why not?"

His only response was to say your name chidingly, and when he reopened his eyes, he was met with the shit-eating grin on your face.

"Brat," he mumbled, lips seeking yours once again.

"Who gives really good head," you hummed against his mouth. "And would really love to show you."

"If you're insisting—"

"Which I am," you quickly interjected, staring back at him as yet another amused smile stretched across his lips. Then, he was nodding his head, and you were quite cheerfully kissing him all over again.

It wasn't that you kissed him with much fever at all — in fact, you were melting into his lips with a gentle hum. It was simply that he was kissing you back with a desperation you should be accustomed to. You weren't.

Every kiss you received from him always felt like he was chipping away at your soul, claiming a piece of it. Maybe he was.

You mewled when his teeth nipped at your lower lip, and he was quick to take the opportunity of slipping his tongue into your mouth. Though, alerted by his sudden control over the situation between you two, you reluctantly pulled your face away from his before it could go much further.

"Excuse me," he breathed out, scoldingly, only to be met with your hundredth grin of the day as you descended down his body. He'd take it — you smiling, albeit cockily, was much more rewarding than the concerned look you had been sporting for the majority of the afternoon.

"I don't do this very often," you told him as you lifted your gaze to his, absentmindedly tugging his pants down his legs.

"I hope not. You've never done it for me, and we've been together for quite a while."

"You know what I mean," you grumbled, and he was forced to poke his tongue into the inside of his cheek to keep the smile off his face.

"Is this comfortable for you?" he then asked, having noticed your constant adjustments of your positioning between his legs. From nerves or comfortability, he didn't know.

"Um. I guess so," you replied. "I've never done it lying down."

"We can do it however you prefer to do it, angel."

"Oh. Okay. Cool," you mumbled, sitting up straight and grabbing his hands within your own, tugging him over towards the edge of the bed.

You sank to your knees on the rug, tapping his knees with your hands to part them so you could situate yourself comfortably between them.

You were a vision if he'd ever seen one, and you weren't even doing anything. Perhaps you had noticed the effect you had on him, or maybe you were just largely enthusiastic about doing something for him, and only him.

Your tongue darted out to lick your lips, eyes flickering up to meet his face, and if this was the last sight he saw before he died, he would have no complaints.

"Have you ever gotten head before?" you mumbled, eyes fixated on him as your hands trailed up the sides of his thighs, resting at the waistband of his boxers.

"Yes."

"Okay," you whispered, quietly, tapping his hips so he could lift them, and you rolled his boxers down his skin.

"Okay?" he parroted.

"Okay," you confirmed with a nod of your head. "I just wanted to know if this is going to be completely new for you or not."

As you spoke, your fingertips dragged along his inner thighs, lips following soon after, kissing up the skin.

"I don't think that's going to matter, honey," he answered, voice breathless.

You smiled, not needing to ask what he meant. You lifted your head back up, studying his face. He gave you a nod, a silent confirmation to allow you to go further, and you took a beat to compose yourself. It's not like he would be mad at you if it sucked, but you had had a far too awful day to not do something good.

You hadn't done this in a while, it was true. So your hesitance came more from your brain figuring out what it actually needed to do, than your insecurities (they were there too).

Insecurities that melted away within an instant, for Spencer's thighs tensed beneath your hands that were now holding them apart the second your lips made contact with his cock, and through your lashes you could see his head tipping back.

Your cheeks warmed at how easy it was to get him to respond, and you wondered if the satisfaction settled in your chest was anything similar to how he felt when he did this to you.

You started hesitant. Gentle kitten licks at his tip that probably shouldn't have been garnering such a large reaction from him. But it was, and you had to preoccupy your mouth to keep the smug smile off of it.

Wrapping your lips around the head, he lets out the breathiest moan you think you've ever heard come from him, and your mind goes hazy. Newfound blind confidence wills you to take more of him in your mouth, and it's a quiet 'Fuck' that compels you even further.

In hindsight, he knew he'd enjoy it. It was you after all. He knew from the world shattering arousal that the simple sight of you on your knees was. He had, in a few short seconds, mentally prepared to enjoy this.

But not this much, and certainly not this quickly.

"I've been too selfless," he muttered as you lifted your head back up, tongue licking a stripe up the underside of him as you did. When you met his gaze in question, he added, "I mean never asking you for this. I should've."

You hummed as a response (it was all you really could do), and the gentle vibrations shot heat throughout his body. A shuddering moan rocked through his body, and if not for your quick response time in pushing his hips down, they would've knocked against your face when he bucked them up.

You hollowed your cheeks, lowering your head back down, and emitting the loveliest of moans from Spencer, whose hand found its way to your hair. Upon the lack of your protests, he made a loose ponytail with his fist, gently tugging on it upwards so you could lift your head.

You flattened your tongue on your ascend, successfully making his already weak grip on your hair go slack, within only seconds of him having grabbed it. Swirling your tongue around the tip of his cock, his hips bucked up again, and you flinched.

"Jesus—fuck, sorry, honey," he rasped, though his guilt was quick to dissipate as he saw your thumbs up against his thigh. Your movements weren't hesitant, anymore. Just slow. Tortuously slow. "Can I..." he trailed off, seemingly becoming unsure of what it was he was asking of you within seconds, but the retightening of his hand in your hair gave you all you needed to know.

You nodded your head the best you could, and he mumbled a quiet 'thank you', allowing you to set a base pace, before taking over.

"So good. Jesus Christ, angel. Where did you learn this? Don't answer that. Don't tell me. Shit."

His rambling was sharp sentences, that didn't really sound like they belonged together, and certainly didn't sound like they should be coming out of his mouth. They weren't the most articulately structured phrases he's ever come up with. A thought that comforted you, because you were doing that to him.

"Fuck," he breathed out, once more, and you came to the mental conclusion you've never heard him swear so much in his life. The thought made your stomach flip.

Fingers dug into your scalp, though not too harshly to hurt. In fact, you were letting out a quiet moan of your own at the feeling, hips wiggling. Even in his state, Spencer noticed, and he smiled.

"You—ah—okay, angel?" he asked you, and you relished in the fact that he couldn't get out sentences without moaning.

Your response was yet another hum, and he was bucking his hips. Again.

You knew he was close for a multitude of reasons; the fact that he had quickened his gentle-turned-firm guidance of your head, his fingers tugging on your hair a little harsher than before, and the ever so lovely, "Jesus Christ—please—oh," leaving his lips, breathlessly.

It was a few more moments of that, before the fingers in your hair went impossibly tight, and the muscles in his thighs locked beneath your hands.

The fact you had never discussed doing this, meant neither of you knew the other's stance on what to do. Thankfully, Spencer was rendered so frenzied that he couldn't do anything.

It was a sickeningly lovely sight; you pulling back and swallowing, some of his come painting your bottom lip. His fingers twitched, before they dropped back to the mattress on either side of his body, his chest heaving just as much as your own.

Lightheaded, you slowly brought yourself back up to your feet, and Spencer's arms were quick to wrap around the backs of your thighs, pulling you into him.

"Best head of your life?" you asked, lowering your lips to brush against his.

"By a mile," he replied.

"Just one mile?"

"Maybe two."

Shooting him a glare, you huffed, and he laughed. "You're never getting head again, then."

He nipped your lower lip. "Okay."

"I'm putting my foot down," you retorted, disliking his lack of belief in your words. "Never again."

"I believe that."

"You should."

"Oh, I do," he hummed, sarcasm in his words making you frown. "Are your knees okay?"

If his goal was to distract you, he succeeded, for your eyes were instantly dropping to your knees, indents from the threads of the rug evident.

"They're okay," you confirmed, squirming as his thumbs rubbed circles into the skin on your thighs.

"Tell me if they're not," he instructed, and you nodded. He stood up, hands sliding up to your waist. "Shower?"

"Shower," you confirmed with a nod, despite the fact that you had showered only a few hours prior. "Can we watch a movie after?"

"Yes."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

#lia’s fics ♡#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid comfort #spencer reid fluff

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rafesbuzzcutseason · 4 months ago

Text

wicked game

chapter 1 - welcome to kildare college

synopsis: y/n is sarah’s roommate and the embodiment of sunshine. rafe, on the other hand, is her complete opposite. when the boys place a bet that he can't win her over, rafe takes the challenge without hesitation. after all, he never backs down from a dare. the closer rafe gets to y/n, he finds himself drawn to her warmth in a way he never expected, and for the first time, he wants to be more than just the guy with a bad reputation.

but secrets don’t stay hidden for long, and when y/n finds out the truth, rafe is left to face the consequences. now, he has to prove that somewhere along the way, the bet stopped mattering, because losing her was never part of the plan.

masterlist

here it was. the day you had been counting down too for the last 6 months.

you took a deep breath, and entered the room the resident assistant had told you was yours.

the room was already half-decorated. fairy lights strung along one side, polaroids pinned to a cork board, and an expensive looking tote bag tossed on the bed.

before you could even process it all, a blonde girl spun around from where she was unpacking, eyes lighting up. “oh my god! you must be y/n!”

before you could do more than nod, the girl was pulling you into a tight hug.

“i’m sarah cameron, your official roommate and new best friend” she said, grinning.

you laughed, already liking her energy. “nice to meet you sarah. i'm y/n."

“so, tell me everything. where are you from? do you have a boyfriend? what are you studying?" she asked.

you shook your head but smiled. “well, i'm from south carolina, i do have a boyfriend, and i'm studying education as i want to work with kids!"

sarah gasped dramatically. “a boyfriend? oooh, tell me everything. long distance? is he at KC? is he hot?”

you laughed, shaking your head. “yes, no, and… yes."

sarah smiled. “that's cute. and studying to be a teacher? even cuter. you're a little ray of sunshine."

"i get told that a lot." you smiled back.

she leaned forward, eyes gleaming with curiosity. “okay, real talk. how do you feel about frat parties?”

you hesitated, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “uh, i mean… i’ve never really been to one.”

sarah’s jaw dropped. “never?”

you shrugged. “not really my scene, i guess.”

sarah gasped like you had just confessed to a crime. “okay, nope, we have to fix that. there’s a huge party at kappa tau tonight. it’s basically a ‘welcome back to chaos’ event. you have to come with me.”

you hesitated, nerves starting. “i don’t know-”

sarah gave you a squeeze. “come on, y/n. you don’t have to love it, but you can’t start the semester without at least going to one.” she nudged you playfully. “i promise i’ll be your personal bodyguard if the frat guys get annoying. plus i have a few friends who came here as well who you'll love.”

you sighed, already knowing you were probably going to cave. “fine. but if it’s terrible, you owe me coffee in the morning.”

sarah grinned. “deal.”

before you could respond, a loud ding! came from her phone. she glanced at the screen and groaned.

“what?” you asked.

“ugh. my brother,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “he’s already texting me about the party.”

you raised an eyebrow. “you have a brother here?”

sarah sighed dramatically, falling back onto the bed. “unfortunately.”she continued. “year above. he’s a frat guy, the frat guy. throws wild parties, and thinks he’s god’s gift to campus.” she shot you a look. “so, if he or any of his little minions try to charm you tonight, run.”

you laughed. “duly noted.”

"good. he's a pain in the ass."

a/n: first and foremost, my baby @darlingstarkey deserves every ounce of credit here possible. she is my own ray of sunshine and i can't thank her enough for how much she helps me and lets me throw all my ideas at her. i love you my cherub

secondly, first chapter AHHH scary. hope u guys are ready for this one <3

🏷️: @heartzshiftamy @hoefordrewstarkey @luvrclub @yesterdaysproblemm @leleee3 @yktayy9669 @miumiuestmoi @anacamofficial @cokewithcameron @bloodofadoll @shorttandsweett @mysticbby2009 @emmiesummers @wintercrows @drewrry @starkeyxcameron @xxbirkindoll2 @stoned-writer @drewstarkeyslover @hannieskzzz @verycherryblossomhideout @letstryagaintomorrow @jjsbbg7 @mariamadison6-blog @laniirackssss @xeneasworld @countryclubwhore @drewsphswife @mattyskies @moonywhisp3rs @starkeygirls @lmaolmaos @thereallifebambi @emeloyy @vcnillafairy @rafecameronswhoore @st8rkey @angeldiaryy @therealfairybatman

#smau #rafe cameron #obx #obxsmau #boyfriend rafe #outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #wicked game #frat boy!rafe

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lilac-verse · 10 months ago

Note

Could u do a fic similar to ur mustang fic, but the storyline being she moves next to him and her brother and him get close cos her mum begins to become friends with his mum so she has to come over a lot and ends up being obsessed with him

୨୧﹕ privacy .ᐟ oneshot

pairing ; au!nicholas chavez x fem!reader contains ; 80s alternate universe , brother’s best friend , tension. a/n ; 1980s alternate universe where nicholas is a rich kid. summary ; after y/n’s family moves house, her neighbour (and brother’s best friend) catches her eye.

THERE’S SOMETHING SO attractive about a man who is forbidden. maybe it’s the fantasy of it: the yearning for something that is just out of reach. it’s almost as if you’re looking at him through a glass wall, but all you can do is look.

y/n laid on her bed in front of her window, looking into the house next door. coincidentally, nicholas’ bedroom window was opposite her’s. she wasn’t sure he realised yet, but she sure did, and the lack of curtains on his end didn’t help.

she’d glance outside her window for a moment sometimes and be met with the sight of him and a girl, a different one every time. and it’s not that y/n was nosey, but what type of jerk brings a new girl home every other day?

whatever, it was none of her business. her fingers absentmindedly twisted a strand of hair as her mind wandered. suddenly, the shrill ring of the house phone cut through the peaceful haze of her afternoon. she groaned, tossing the magazine aside, and reluctantly swung her legs over the edge of the bed. It was always a race to answer the phone before someone else picked up or, worse, before the answering machine clicked on. downstairs, she heard it ring again, and she bolted for the hallway.

her feet hit the marble steps, carefully rushing down them in order to not slip (trust me, she’s learned her lesson) as she took them two at a time, and she reached for the phone just as it rang a third time. the long, coiled cord dangled like a snake as she brought the heavy receiver to her ear.

“hello?” she sighed.

“hey, y/n, it's me,” her brother's voice crackled through the line.

the girl rolled her eyes. he had been out all day, probably hanging out with his basketball friends from down the street. “what do you want?”

“i, uh... i left my watch at the chavez'.”

“okay?” she leaned against the doorframe, already regretting picking up the call.

“in the bathroom,” he added sheepishly. “i kinda need you to go get it for me.”

y/n rolled her eyes. “you want me to go to the neighbors' house and ask them for your stupid watch?”

“please?” he sounded desperate. “mom’s gonna freak if she finds out i lost it again. it’s the one grandma got me, remember?”

y/n sighed dramatically, twisting the cord around her fingers. she hated doing her brother’s errands. “why don't you go get it?”

“i'm, uh, not really around right now.”

“not around?” she scowled, though she knew he couldn't see it. “what, are you in another dimension or something?”

“i'm at the arcade,” her brother admitted. “and i can’t leave right now i’m with someone”

y/n gasped jokingly before mocking him, “you’ve got a girlfriend, you’ve got a girlfri-”

“shut up” he responded.

“why don’t you ask nick?” she moved on.

“if i call their phone his mom might pick up and i’ll have to explain and then she might tell-” he rambled before being cut off by the annoyed groan of his sister.

she could practically hear the grin on his face, knowing he'd dodged responsibility again. she thought about arguing but decided it wasn't worth the effort. “fine,” she huffed. “but you owe me.”

“alright, thanks bye!” her brother said quickly, relief flooding his voice before quickly hanging up on her.

with that, she made her way across the manicured lawns toward nick’s place. his family’s house, a massive mediterranean-style mansion, was just a short walk away. she’d been over a few times for pool parties and get-togethers, but it was always when his parents were throwing some lavish event. now, though, it was quiet, and she wasn’t sure if anyone was even home.

the front door was open slightly, and y/n knocked, stepping into the cool air-conditioned hallway when there was no answer.

“nicholas?” she called out, but was greeted by silence, except for the distant hum of music playing from somewhere upstairs.

the girl figured he must be in his room or something, so she headed up the grand staircase, walking down the hallway towards the bathroom her brother had mentioned. the marble floors were cool beneath her feet, and the whole house had that expensive, freshly cleaned smell that only rich homes seemed to have. don’t get me wrong, y/n was rich, but not this rich.

as she reached the bathroom, the door was slightly ajar, steam seeping out into the hallway. before she could knock, the door opened, and there stood nick, freshly out of the shower, a towel hanging loosely around his waist, his skin still glistening with water droplets.

y/n froze.

his eyes widened, clearly just as surprised to see her. his hair was damp, hanging messily over his forehead, and the sight of him standing there, looking every bit like a golden god, left y/n momentarily speechless.

“y/n?” he said, his voice smooth but amused. “what are you doing here?”

she swallowed, trying to find her voice. “um, my brother… he left his watch here earlier. i came to get it.”

nick chuckled, leaning against the doorframe, his towel shifting dangerously low on his hips, revealing his very noticeable v-line. “ah, the infamous watch.” he nodded back toward the counter inside the bathroom. “it’s right there.”

she glanced past him and spotted the watch sitting next to the sink. but her eyes didn’t stay on the watch for long, not with nicholas standing right in front of her like that, all muscles and damp skin. she could feel her cheeks heating up, and she hoped he didn’t notice.

“thanks,” she mumbled, stepping forward to grab it, but not before catching the faint scent of his aftershave. it was intoxicating.

just as she reached for the watch, he shifted, his arm brushing against hers. she couldn’t help but look up, meeting his eyes, which were gleaming with that signature smirk of his.

“you know,” he said, his voice low, “you didn’t have to come all the way over here for that. i could’ve brought it over later.”

her heart was racing now, and she tried to play it cool. “i didn’t want to bother you”

nick raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “bother me? y/n, you’re never a bother, you’re my best friend’s sister after all.” his gaze lingered on her for a moment, the air between them thick with tension.

she quickly snatched the watch off the counter, stepping back. “well, i’ve got it now, so I’ll just…go.”

the boy chuckled, taking a step forward, his eyes never leaving hers. “you don’t have to rush off. why don’t you hang out for a bit? i was about to make some food, and i could use some company.”

she hesitated, the idea of staying here, alone with nick, both thrilling and terrifying. the way he was looking at her — like she was the only thing in the room that mattered — made it hard to think straight.

“i don’t know,” she said, biting her lip.

he grinned, stepping even closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “come on, y/n. stay.”

it wasn’t really a question.

and before she could talk herself out of it, she nodded.

#nicholas chavez x reader #nicholas chavez x y/n #nicholas chavez fanfiction #nicholas chavez #nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez fanfic #ʚɞ chrrymlks

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ellieputellas · 8 months ago

Text

the bird | a.putellas (2)

tags: troublestudent!Alexia, modelstudent!reader, angst, fluff, religious guilt, forbidden love, friends-to-lovers, smut, cunnilingus r&alexia!receiving, fingering r!receiving, semi-public sex, all explicit scenes will have warning before it warnings / notes: will contain homophobic sentiments, religious themes, emotionally heavy angst and scenes, might come off sacrilegious at some times

‎ㅤㅤ⠀⠀ chapter index — chapter one 🕊 chapter two 🕊 epilogue

note: all explicit scenes will have the warning before it! you can use that as a guide for when you want to skip such parts or if you wanna skip everything else and read just smut lmfao anyway u can read this chapter alone if u just want the smut lol but i urge you to read chapter 1 to get the plot! with that said. minors please dni still!

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ACT IV. Damned to End from the Start (cont.)

When you finally pulled away from Alexia, you felt your chest rise and fall as you tried to catch your breath and gather your thoughts. Alexia looked into your eyes, flickering between them as if trying to read your expression.

“You…” Her voice trailed off as she kept her hands on you, resting on your waist.

You bit your lip. Your hands slipped down her arms, gripping on to them as if you’d melt on to the floor if you weren’t.

The silence filled the air as you stayed like that for a moment. Alexia gnawed on her own bottom lip, unsure of what to say. “So, what now?”

You exhaled deeply, locking eyes with her, searching for answers you didn’t have. “I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I was hoping you’d have it figured out first.”

A nervous chuckle bubbled up from inside you, shaking your head. Alexia blinked at you in surprise before a chuckle escaped her lips too. Once you two stopped with the giggles, Alexia reached for your hand again cautiously, holding on to the fingertips. “So… I assume you don't hate me.”

You shook your head, the words spilling easily. “I could never…”

She gave a small, thoughtful hum, her gaze dropping to where your hands intertwined. “That doesn’t necessarily mean you like me, though…”

You chuckled and moved closer, reaching out to take her face in your hands. “Was the kiss not enough of a clue?”

Her lips parted, her gaze flickering back to yours, then down to your lips. “Well… maybe another one would make me sure.”

You rolled your eyes, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you leaned in and captured her mouth in a tender kiss. When you pulled back, you grinned against her lips. “That good enough for you?”

Alexia’s quiet laugh sent shivers through you. “Maybe I need a few more.” She teased, causing you to give her a playful slap on the arm.

Another silence befell the two of you for a moment until you finally admitted, “That was my first kiss.”

“I know, angel.” She responded as she tucked a loose lock of hair behind your ear. “I hope it’s worth it.”

You nodded enthusiastically. “Of course, of course,” you said. “It felt… it felt like the best thing ever.”

Alexia smiled faintly but quickly glanced away, a nervous edge creeping into her demeanor. The weight of the day pressed on her — the endless lectures from the nuns, their harsh words ringing in her ears as they condemned homosexuality with fervor. Not to mention the heavy looks of judgement of the girls who probably found out about her situation, having witnessed her and Jenni being escorted to Sister Philomena’s office.

She didn’t buy into the whole “gay is evil” shit for a second, but the thought of dragging you into that kind of judgment made her chest tighten.

You, with your reputation as the model student, didn’t deserve to face the judgement she'd endured. Alexia knew she could take it, but she wasn’t sure she could bear seeing you hurt by it.

“Hey,” you said as you noticed her deep in thought, a facial expression that appeared more and more anxious.

Alexia looked up at you and your angelic face, your warm eyes. It would pain her to see you suffer the same judgement. “What now, monjita? What do we do now?” She said, repeating her question from earlier.

“I don’t know,” you responded in a low voice. “All I know is I like you and you make me happy and I love your presence.”

Alexia’s shoulders relaxed slightly as she nodded. Your words calmed her heart a bit but doubt still lingered. “Aren’t you scared?” she asked after a beat, her voice small. “Of god? Of what everyone will think?”

It struck her how quickly you’d shifted — from a tearful, conflicted mess minutes ago to the calm determination that now anchored you. But now, that same silence felt different... like quiet approval, like peace.

You shook your head slowly, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “No,” you said, your voice steady and confident. “Not anymore.”

After the rain had calmed down, you two made your way back to your dorm room, changed into your pajamas, and cuddled in Alexia’s bed. This time, you were seated up with your back against the wall as Alexia rested her head on your lap, allowing you the chance to brush her hair through your fingers.

“...And you were laughing so hard that your nose was all wrinkled up and you were practically snorting,” Alexia said, recalling one of your random nights out at the prayer garden. “That’s when I knew it wasn’t just a happy crush.”

“That was like months ago, Alexia…” You said, shocked by the confession.

She hummed as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Yeah, well… I mean, I’ve always thought you were pretty.” She paused, her tone turning smug. “And I knew you thought the same about me, even before you realized it yourself.”

You rolled your eyes, though your cheeks betrayed you with a faint blush. “No way.”

“Oh, please,” Alexia teased, chuckling. “I’d catch you staring at me, and your face would turn bright red. It was adorable.”

You chuckled nervously. “I was not that obvious.”

“Sure,” Alexia said, her voice dripping with mock disbelief. “Especially after football. You’d hang around, so quiet and fidgety, like you didn’t know where to look. I’d brush past you or touch you and you’d practically jump two feet in the air whenever our skin made contact.”

A laugh burst from your lips as you tapped two fingers lightly against her forehead, playfully reprimanding her for teasing you. “Oh, so you were doing that on purpose? The accidental touches? And don’t think I didn’t notice the way you’d always raise your arms or lift up your shirt during training, just to show off your abs.”

A mischievous grin spread across Alexia’s face. “What I’m hearing is… you like my abs.”

You playfully smacked your two fingers on her forehead again lightly. “Shut up!”

For a moment, the room was filled with laughter, but soon the energy settled into a quiet stillness. Your fingers continued their slow path through Alexia’s hair, and the weight of your thoughts pressed against your chest.

“Alexia…” You began softly. “Can I ask you something?”

She tilted her head to look up at you, her hazel eyes curious. “Of course.”

You hesitated, unsure if you should even bring it up, but curiosity and something heavier pushed you forward. “Jenni,” you said carefully, the name hanging in the air like a delicate thread. “The girl who snuck into the school earlier… what’s the story with her?”

Alexia took a deep breath. “Jenni and I…” she started, her voice soft but steady. “We were best friends. Ever since I moved in with my grandparents when I was young... after my father got sick and my parents couldn't take care of me anymore.”

You nodded, recalling that aspect of her story but you stayed silent, letting her continue her train of thought.

“She was always open about her sexuality, even when we were way younger,” Alexia said with a faint smile. “She was so brave about it, you know? Like, she didn’t care what anyone thought. I admired her for that.”

Her smile faded as she continued. “We were the only two queer girls in our school. At least, the only ones we knew about. So, I guess it was kind of inevitable that we ended up dating.” She said with an unreadable expression. “She was funny and we both loved to play football but… I don’t think we were ever compatible, as a couple.”

You nodded, sensing there was more to the story.

“It was… intense,” Alexia admitted, her voice faltering slightly. “Tumultuous, really. She’d get jealous easily, and I’d get frustrated about little things just as fast. We’d fight, makeup, and fight again. My grades slipped from all the stress, hers too. It was hard, but we were young and stupid, and I thought that was just how it was supposed to be.”

Her voice grew quieter. “It all came crashing down when my grandparents found out. I’m not even sure how they pieced it together. Maybe it was the way we looked at each other, or how much time we spent together. But they knew. And they… they weren’t happy.”

You could feel the weight of her words settling into the room. “What happened?” you asked gently.

“Well, you already know that they’re devout Catholics,” Alexia said with a bitter laugh. “So, they hated it. They gave me an ultimatum. Break up with Jenni or be shipped to boarding school.”

“Oh,” You said. “So, that’s why you’re here?”

Alexia hummed. “Kinda… but not really,” she paused. “Because I broke up with her.”

She breathed, inhaling until her lungs filled completely before exhaling shakily. “I hated how my grandparents were so against me being gay, but it also felt like a blessing in disguise.” She said as her eyebrows knit together. “I wasn’t happy with Jenni anymore; I just wanted to go back to being best friends. So, I wanted to use my grandparents’ disapproval as an excuse to split up with her.”

“Then… then how’d you end up here?” You asked.

Her jaw clenched. “After I broke up with her, she tried sneaking into my house to beg for a second chance and they caught her.” She paused. "My grandmother caught her climbing into my window and she was just…”

Alexia took a beat to breathe, the story obviously something heavy for her to recount. “It was bad. They acted like I was the devil incarnate even when I tried to obey them.” She stared blankly at the ceiling. “It wasn’t even my fault.”

Your heart ached for her as she let out a shaky breath.

“So, they sent me here,” Alexia continued, gesturing vaguely to the room. “Far away from everything I knew, far from home. They thought this place would fix me, cleanse me, or whatever. Stop making me gay,” She scoffed. “But it didn’t. Obviously.”

A chuckle bubbled up between the two of you. When the laughter dissipated, her eyes finally met yours, vulnerable and searching. “I don’t want you to go through that. I don’t want you to suffer because of me.”

You softly placed a hand against Alexia’s cheek, using your thumb to brush against her soft skin. “It won’t happen to us.” You reassured. “We’ll be careful. Don’t worry.”

For a while, Alexia and you were careful.

No one really blinked an eye when you two held hands considering that you’ve always done it before and it was common for friends to do so. Even the girls who had heard of Alexia’s stint at Sister Philomena’s office stopped judging her too harshly based on the sole fact that you were hanging out with her. If the ideal, angelic student was her friend, then that just probably meant Alexia wasn’t the evil homosexual they thought she was.

To take extra cautious measures, Alexia and you only ever kissed in the bedroom, which sometimes felt like it wasn’t enough for you. You’d think about her lips, her touch all the time. Instead of listening to Bible study, your brain had resorted to fantasizing about her kisses, especially those neck kisses you grew to love so much.

It mostly got unbearable during football practice or games. The sight of Alexia running around, muscles flexed and face serious, always got you squirming in the grass. She was so attractive and you were so smitten by everything she did on the pitch.

It was particularly worse whenever you had to join her at the showers. After confirming that you did love the sight of her abdomen, Alexia started taking her shirt off a lot in front of you especially after training when they were particularly prominent from all the physical activity.

This time, when Alexia took her shirt off, you felt your lips tuck between your teeth, inhaling as you saw the familiar sight of her shirtless torso. Alexia chuckled at your obvious reaction. “You’ve seen me shirtless countless times and you’re still this flustered.”

You rolled your eyes before quickly looking around to check the vicinity. The shower room was empty since the other football girls had already taken a bath while Alexia was still on the pitch, cooling down with a jog and some stretches. Once you’ve confirmed that no one was around, you practically jumped at Alexia, taking her lips with yours.

Alexia chuckled at the sudden affection but welcomed it, resting her hands on your waist as she kissed you. She hummed out loud when she felt you bite her lower lip, shocked that you were being the bolder, more forward one this time.

You licked Alexia’s lower lip, just like she had with yours, as if to ask permission. Once Alexia parted her lips, you let your tongue slide between them, deepening the kiss.

Alexia felt proud, feeling just how quickly you’ve improved at kissing when just a week ago, you jumped at the feeling of her tongue inside your mouth. Now, it was you who was leading the French kiss.

It didn't take long until you were breathless. You pulled away, looking into Alexia’s eyes, seeing her pupils blown out. “Ale, do you wanna skip the shower and go back to our room?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

As soon as you and Alexia entered your room, you took her shirt off again and pulled her towards your bed, stumbling back to lie down as Alexia propped herself on top of you.

Alexia was quite shocked that you were making out on your bed, instead of hers. She was quite accustomed to it but she didn’t complain or question anything, too fixated on pressing her lips against yours.

Aside from kissing your lips, Alexia’s favorite part to kiss was your collarbones. She loved how you’d whimper and moan whenever she’d kiss them, gently to not leave a mark. She moved her lips slowly from your mouth to your collarbones, planting a kiss on your cheek and neck on her way down.

You moaned out as soon as you felt the Catalan’s teeth graze against your collarbone, kissing and sucking harder than she had before. “Alexia…” Her name felt so natural in your mouth. It felt so good moaning it out.

Alexia continued to kiss your collarbone as you felt her hand slip under your school shirt, touching the skin of your waist. While you’ve seen Alexia topless several times, you haven’t really revealed that much to the girl. You have changed in the same room a lot of times but never in this context.

Alexia was always respectful of your boundaries, often waiting for you to make the move first. But this time, that slipped out of her mind as her hand moved up and down your waist, feeling your skin. She couldn't hold back when you were being so cute with your moans.

“Alexia, take it off.” You whimpered out. She looked up at you, hazel eyes warm and excited. You smiled. “Please, help me take off my shirt.”

You sat up and let Alexia lift your shirt up as you raised both hands to make it easier for her to do so. She bit her lips as she saw the sight of you in just a white, balconette bra with lace details. She exhaled, eyes flickering between your chest and your face.

The warmth spread from your chest to your face as you grew flustered. “Ale…” Your voice trailed off, timidly. You placed both hands on her shoulders, holding onto her as you batted your eyes at her.

“You’re so beautiful.” She looked into your eyes with her pupils blown out. “Can I…?”

You nodded. “Yes. I give you my permission.”

Her lips curled into a smile before she leaned forward to kiss your lips, putting one hand on the small of your back and the other one cupping your breasts over your lace bra. You wrapped your arms around Alexia, trying to keep yourself up as you moaned into her mouth at the feeling of her touch.

Alexia kneaded your chest gently as she kissed you passionately, hungrily. Soon, her hands were pushing their way under the white fabric and pulling your breast out to spill out of your bra. You gasped, breaking the kiss.

She took this opportunity to lay you down on the bed as she crawled back on top of you. She cautiously took the other breast out so that they would both be spilling out of your bra. Her eyes gazed back at your face as she lowered her face down to your chest.

“Let me try something,” she said in a hushed voice. “I’m sure you’d like it.”

You trusted Alexia. When it came to intimacy, you had no knowledge. All prurient media and literature were banished from the school, making it impossible for you to know anything about sex. The only encounter you had to learn about it was through a Jude Deveraux erotic book that slipped through the nun’s scrutiny. You were so shocked by the contents that you barely got through it before quickly turning it over to Sister Catherine for her to dispose of. (Though, it seemed more like the nun kept the book instead of throwing it away.)

At this moment, you grew regretful at never reading through it. Maybe it would have prepared you better for what was about to happen.

You immediately moaned loudly as soon as Alexia’s mouth wrapped around your nipple. She gave it a cautionary lick with her tongue before she continued to suck it. Her other hand proceeded to play with the other chest, using her fingers to roll your nipples between them.

You whimpered, trying to choke down your moans as you felt the pleasure intensify. Alexia was incredibly skilled with her tongue, seemingly knowing exactly how to make you feel good. You tried pressing your legs together, to ease the sudden ache and discomfort you were feeling in your nether regions but you couldn't as Alexia was still in between them.

It was taking everything in Alexia not to suck too hard and to leave hickeys to mark you; she would stop herself every time, giving a precautionary look at your skin just to be safe. She was a contradiction – wanting both to be careful and gentle but also wanting to consume you whole.

But she knew even the act of planting gentle kisses all over you was already overwhelming for a good, Catholic girl like you. You were already practically going crazy under her. She feared for how loud you’d be once she actually got to properly touch you.

She lifted her head up. “Monjita,” she whispered out. “Can I touch you?”

You blinked, looking down at Alexia. “Touch me?”

She nodded before letting her hand go from your breast to in between your legs. Alexia pressed her palm flatly on your core. “Here.”

You bit your lip, unsure of what to feel. Though you didn’t know of the details, you already knew the concept of sexual intimacy. Of course, what you knew was that it was dirty, impure, and sinful. But with Alexia, you just couldn't fathom how it could possibly be a bad thing. How could something so tender, born out of love and passion, ever be wrong? It felt as though the very idea defied everything you had been taught.

“We don’t have to…” Alexia said as she saw the hesitation in your face.

You quickly shook your head and cupped her face with your hands. “No,” you said as you looked deep into her eyes. “I think I’m ready.”

Alexia smiled warmly, her eyes sparkling as she did, sending butterflies to your stomach. You smiled back. “If I were to do it,” you said softly. “I’d want it to be with you.”

Those words warmed Alexia from the inside. She moved back up to capture your lips in a tender kiss before sitting up. She cautiously held your waistband, pulling off your skirt as you lifted your hips to make it easier for her to remove them. Alexia nearly moaned at the sight of your pure, white underwear absolutely drenched at the crotch with your own nectar. She felt a chuckle bubble up.

You grew shy. “W-what?”

Alexia shook her head. “You’re so beautiful, my angel.” Alexia said in a low voice, admiring your body. “How did I get so lucky to have an angel laid bare before me?"

Your cheeks grew crimson with Alexia’s words and with the way she stared at you, taking in your entirety. She ran a hand through the smooth of your hips and up to the curve of your waist before leaning in again to capture your lips. As she pulled away, she locked eyes with you. “Monjita, you can tell me to stop any time, okay?”

You nodded, feeling incredibly full of trust for Alexia. There was not a single doubt or hesitation in your mind at that moment.

Alexia sat back up before placing both thumbs underneath the side of your underwear, slowly pulling the fabric off of you.

“God,” Alexia whispered under her breath as she saw your slick stick to the fabric, forming a stretched line before breaking. You were utterly soaked, and it was all for her. Pride surged through her veins, mixing with a deep, insatiable hunger.

Growing shy, you pressed your legs together, feeling vulnerable under the intensity of her stare. Alexia let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head as her warm hands gently coaxed your legs apart again. “No hiding, angel,” she murmured, her tone coaxing yet commanding. “Let me see all of you.”

Alexia was so gentle with you. Her touch was tender, almost reverent. She kissed her way across your skin, her lips a soft prayer as they met every curve and hollow, easing you into the rhythm of her care. Her mouth lingered on yours in a final, lingering kiss before she began her descent, leaving a trail of warmth as she made her way down to your core.

When her head settled between your thighs, your heart hammered against your ribs. The sensation of her warm breath against your bare skin sent a shiver up your spine.

Slowly, the Catalan spread you with her hands and parted her mouth before capturing your clit with her mouth. You gasped, putting a hand on her head. “Alexia! That’s dirty!”

She paused only for a moment, lifting her gaze to meet yours with a soft smile. “No part of an angel could ever be dirty,” she murmured, her voice a soothing promise, before dipping back down to continue her devotion.

Your hands tangled in Alexia's hair, gripping gently as her tongue lapped up your core, savoring every drop of your wetness. Her movements were unhurried, deliberate as if committing the taste of you to memory.

Alexia nearly chuckled at the memory of the nuns telling all of you about how to never waste food — not a single grain of rice, not a single drop of honey. Alexia smirked at the thought. She’d taken that lesson to heart, but now, she applied it differently—making sure not a single bit of your sweetness went untasted. Not a single drop of it was wasted.

The sensation of Alexia eating you out was something you’d never felt before. It was exciting and intense. With every flick of Alexia’s tongue, you could feel yourself unravel more and more.

Her tongue would move up and down your entire length before flicking against your clit quickly, causing you to grip the sheets as you clenched your body to the sensation. You loved it when Alexia wrapped her mouth against you, sucking you in a consistent and steady pattern. It sent a shudder of pleasure through your body as your lower stomach warmed.

“Oh God!” You cried out loud, making Alexia chuckle against your core at the irony. “Oh my god! Alexia, don’t stop.”

Alexia paused to shush you. She loved hearing you get so riled up by her but the last thing she needed was for people outside to hear you. After all, it was only afternoon.

Alexia couldn’t resist you, wanting to press her fingers inside you and feel your tightness around her but she knew she had to warm you up, which she didn’t mind. She loved your taste, loved the way your hips pressed up against the warmth of her mouth.

Slowly, she moved her mouth to your opening before slowly sticking her tongue inside you. The warm sensation of her tongue sent an electrifying jolt through your body as it pushed inside of you. You nearly shouted at the overwhelming feeling but your hand went to your mouth, muffling your own moans.

Pleased by your reaction, Alexia bobbed her head to thrust her pointed tongue inside you. Each deliberate motion was paired with the subtle brush of her nose against your clit, an added spark that made your head spin. The dual sensation was intoxicating, a feeling you didn't even know could be possible.

Alexia’s devotion was evident in every motion, her focus unwavering as though she were worshiping you with her tongue. To falter, even for a moment, felt unthinkable to her —not when she was blessed to have you, her angel, unraveling beneath her.

Alexia lifted her head up to look at you from below. “Angel, I’m going to put a finger inside of you.” She said with a low and reverent voice. “If it hurts, let me know, okay?”

All hesitation and apprehension was gone at this point as you eagerly nodded. “Yes, please, yes.”

A soft chuckle escaped her lips, laced with affection. She found your eagerness both cute and sexy. Returning her attention back to your clip, she enveloped her mouth around your clit again to form a steady suction, just to make sure you were sufficiently wet and prepared.

Soon, she carefully took her finger and teased your opening with it, taking her time to soak the finger with your juices. Once she was covered with your slick, she cautiously pressed it against your opening.

Your back arched at the slow intrusion; it felt new and overwhelming. A soft wince escaped your mouth. Alexia paused and lifted her head. “Breathe, angel," she soothed. "Relax, baby. It's just me."

With a deep exhale, you felt your muscles loosen, allowing her to press further inside. The stretch was unfamiliar but not unpleasant, and when her finger was finally fully inside of you, a soft moan escaped your lips. Alexia smiled. “Good girl.”

You hummed as you felt your eyes shut close, savoring the pleasure. Alexia took this as a sign to start thrusting. She put her mouth back on your clit as she slowly pumped her finger in and out of you, feeling you tight around her.

For Alexia, this moment was more than just sexual passion; it was communion.

Being your first filled her with a profound sense of warmth and connection. With each gasp and shiver that escaped you, she felt her heart flutter. You had her entirely, completely, and Alexia wouldn't have it any other way. She didn't mind that you had her wrapped around your finger.

She wanted to be yours anyway.

Alexia increased the speed, carefully pressing against your sensitive spot with every thrust inwards. The combination of her mouth and fingers was driving you insane, struggling to keep your moans from slipping out of the hand you pressed against your mouth.

As the pleasure intensified, you cried out, removing a hand from your mouth. “Alexia, you have to move away.” The words escaped your mouth in a rush. “I think I’m gonna pee.”

Alexia chuckled, fully knowing what you meant. She took it as a sign to move faster and harder against you, pressing a tongue against your throbbing clit. “A-Alexia, I’m serious, uh.”

Your concern soon dissipated as you felt yourself clench around her fingers. Your knuckles grew white as you gripped the sheet with your hands, feeling the intensity build up.

And with a loud cry of Alexia’s name, you came undone, breathing heavily as you felt the pleasure make waves through your entire body. Alexia helped you ride out your orgasm before pulling away, wiping her soaked hand on her shorts before moving to your side to cuddle up to you, spooning you.

You smiled and let a chuckle out as you tried to catch your breath, absolutely consumed by the feeling. You turned around so that you’d be facing Alexia, looking into her eyes.

“That was…” You smiled breathlessly. “Alexia, I think I…”

She smiled as you paused. She knew what you wanted to say but she understood your hesitation, knowing you might not have wanted to say it after the heat of it all. She reached out to you, tucking a hair behind your ear before pressing her lips on your forehead. “I know, monjita.” She whispered.

You moved closer to her, resting a head on her shoulders as you wrapped a hand around her side. She felt extremely warm against you.

“Hmm…” Alexia hummed thoughtfully.

“What?” You asked.

“Nothing,” She said before teasing you. “I just found it funny how you thought you had to pee.”

You playfully smacked her arm. “Don’t tease me! I’m a virgin, okay?”

Alexia laughed as she shook her head. “Not anymore, angel.” She beamed with pride as she snuggled you closer to her. You rolled your eyes and chuckled before nuzzling your face in her chest.

You wanted to stay like that forever, wrapped around each other, feeling each other’s warmth, laughing at each other’s jokes. It felt so addicting just being this close to each other.

You knew you had to get up soon, actually have a shower and get dressed to go for dinner. But for now, you just wanted to fantasize about being completely alone with Alexia, with no worries or fear. Just the two of you, free to love and make love and kiss and be yourselves.

We have to get out of this school.

It was as if the heavens heard your prayers because you were getting a chance to leave the school.

Well, at least for the weekend.

Alexia and the rest of the football team were gearing up to have their first away game against a nearby girl’s school. All the girls from the football team were beyond excited to spend the weekend outside the confines of the boarding school.

While the trip was solely for the football team, Sister Catherine requested that you accompany the team. She said it was just because she wanted to show you appreciation for all that you did for the dorm but they weren’t so subtle about making sure you would keep an eye on Alexia, as if she was some problematic student.

You didn’t mind though, because it just felt like a free trip with the girl you liked.

So, after you and Ingrid gave your respective interim replacements as Dorm Heads a short orientation on things to do and expect, you were both gushing to each other about the trip, excited to see what the outside world has to offer.

“I feel more excited about this than when we took that long trip to see the cloistered nuns,” Ingrid recalled. “All we did then was take a useless three-hour bus ride to pray and eat stale cookies. Now, we get to actually go outside and enjoy the outside world.”

You chirped. “I know! Sister Catherine said we’ll all get a budget for when we have a free day out in the nearby town.” You sighed at the thought. “Can you believe that? We get to taste outside food and buy stuff for ourselves.”

Ingrid smiled widely, feeling warm at the sight of your face glowing with happiness. You two were quite close before but you never bothered to show this much emotion to her before; you were far more reserved and guarded. Now, you seemed carefree, younger too.

“You seem really happy lately,” The Norwegian said as she nodded approvingly. “I’m so glad to see more of this side of you.”

You blushed, feeling vulnerable at the comment. “Thanks. You seem happy too, Ingrid.”

She nodded and you locked eyes in quiet contentment before you two started joyfully chatting again, beyond excited to get out of this place even for just a few days.

You were beyond annoyed when you found out that you would be sharing a room with Sister Catherine instead of Alexia for your trip.

The nuns explained that all the athletes would be staying together in bigger rooms of five while the nuns get bigger rooms meant for faculty. (Apparently, the sisters thought it would be a good idea to have them bond with each other the night before the match.)

That meant you had to either dorm with the moody Sister Jude or the more relaxed Sister Catherine. You opted for the latter.

So much for looking forward to doing it on a new bed, you thought.

Alexia laughed when you told her the news which made you frown. She cooed as she summoned you over to her bed where she was sitting. “C’mon, don’t give me the sour face. It’s just kinda funny…”

You pouted feigning annoyance as you stood in front of her. “So, you’d rather stay with four of your teammates instead of with me?”

She put her hands around your waist, before lowering you down to straddle her on the lap. “Monjita, of course, I wanted to be rooming with you but I kinda expected this to happen.”

She planted a soft kiss on your chin. “At least we’d have a whole day to ourselves.” She said before planting another kiss on your neck and then your collarbones. “We can pretend to be a normal couple for a day — go to a farmer's market, hold hands, kiss in public.”

You hummed. “You do know we still have to wear our school shirts and the school sweatpants," you reminded. "Nothing a normal couple would wear."

Her chuckle vibrated against your skin as she kissed along your neck. “We can just wear a huge jacket over it,” she suggested. “Pretend we’re girlfriends who like to match clothes.”

“Hmm… girlfriends…” You whispered, letting the word hand in the air.

Neither of you had explicitly labeled what you had, and it had never seemed to matter. You thought Alexia wasn’t the type to care about having a label either, well, until now.

Alexia hummed back and pressed a kiss on your jawline. “Yes, does that sound great?”

You smiled before lifting her head up with your hands. “Sounds good to me,” you responded before pressing your lips against hers.

After a long bus ride, where you were forced to be beside Sister Catherine, you begrudgingly took your stuff to your shared room, hating having to stay in a totally separate building from your girlfriend.

Sister Catherine gushed about how lucky you were to be in a room with just her, a luxury not afforded to the athletes who had to be bunked together in groups. But really, you would have preferred to be with them instead of with the junior nun.

You liked Sister Catherine; she was nice and clean. She certainly was one of the more chill and laid-back nuns. Sometimes, she made you laugh with her corny jokes. She was certainly your favorite among the sisters.

But she was no Alexia Putellas.

Alexia could instantly see the sour expression on your face when she met you for dinner out with the others. She swiftly ran up to you. “Angel, why the long face?”

She linked her arm with yours as you two walked side-by-side. The entire team was heading to a nearby fast food joint, buzzing with excitement. It had been ages since any of you had indulged in greasy, guilt-laden junk food.

You leaned your head against Alexia’s shoulders as you walked. Alexia stiffened up with the sudden public display of affection but remembered that you were with the more junior nuns who were incredibly way more chill and also, trusted you with their lives.

“I missed you,” you murmured softly. “It’s the first time since you came to Santa Eulalia that we won’t be spending the night together.”

Alexia let out a quiet sigh. “I know,” she said, her tone gentle. “But hey, at least on Sunday, we can do whatever we want after mass.” She nudged you slightly. “Do you have anything in mind?”

You shook your head, a wistful smile tugging at your lips. “No plans. I just want to wander aimlessly with you… pretend we’re an ordinary couple in the city.”

Alexia chuckled. “I’d really love that, monjita.”

You sighed again, your voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Don’t know how I’ll sleep without my goodnight kiss.”

She laughed softly. “You seemed to manage just fine before we started dating,” she teased, giving you a knowing look. “You’ll survive.”

You pouted. “I doubt that.”

Alexia tilted her head, pretending to ponder. Then she leaned closer and dropped her voice so only you could hear. “How about this? Meet me outside your dorm around 11 pm, when everyone’s asleep. I’ll sneak over and give you that kiss.”

You hesitated, your brows knitting together. “Don’t you need a good night’s rest to play well tomorrow?”

She smirked, her trademark confidence shining through. “We’re playing against another boarding school, not an actual football club. I could run circles around those girls in my sleep.”

You rolled your eyes at her cockiness, though you couldn’t deny how much you adored it. Alexia’s self-assurance was always backed by her skill. She had every right to be with the way she played. “Okay, how else can I say no to a good night kiss?”

When you finally reached the fast food restaurant, the team erupted with excitement, clamoring over the menu and debating what to order.

The greasy, salty aroma filled the air, a nostalgic comfort after years of the same slop the kitchen always prepared. You joined in, laughing and indulging along with everyone else, savoring every bite.

But at the back of your mind, all you could think about was kissing Alexia later. No french fries or ice cream sundae tasted better than your girlfriend’s lips

Your heart was practically beating out of your chest once the clock struck 10. For the next hour, you spent your time silently brushing your hair and spritzing on a bit of perfume, moving quietly as the nun was fast asleep.

Thank god for food coma, you thought as you remembered Sister Catherine and Sister Jude indulging in a huge serving of fries and burgers. For a moment, everyone had forgotten that gluttony was a sin.

By 10:55 pm, you were already tiptoeing out of your shared room, slipping silently into the hallway. The faculty dormitory where you stayed was on the far side of the building, separate from the student athletes’ quarters. You couldn’t help but wonder how Alexia planned to sneak all the way here without getting caught.

Soon, you could see the familiar shadow of your girlfriend climbing up the stairs adjacent to your room. You beamed as soon as you saw her. She pressed a finger against her mouth, telling you to remain quiet before gesturing for you to follow.

Biting your lip, you glanced back at your dorm door one last time before slipping away with her. Alexia took your hand, her grip warm and steady, as the two of you moved through the dimly lit building. She led the way with quiet confidence, navigating the halls as if she were a seasoned spy.

You let her lead the way and ultimately, you both ended up in the basement which had a huge room converted into a chapel.

“You could have just given me a kiss right outside my door,” You teased as you turned toward the Catalan who was boarding the wooden door of the room behind her.

Without hesitation, Alexia grabbed your waist and pinned you against the door, capturing your lips with hers. She pulled away after a minute of liplocking. “Wanted to do more than just a good night kiss.”

Her lips quickly met your again in a passionate kiss. You wrapped your arms around her as you felt yourself melt in her kiss, ready to come undone once again under your girlfriend’s touch.

It felt vaguely nostalgic to be kissing in a chapel again but this time, her kisses were more intense and passionate than the first kiss you had shared.

Alexia didn’t take long to slip the straps of your nightgown off of your shoulders, letting the soft fabric slip off your skin and fall to the floor. Your small yelp was muffled by Alexia’s lips as you felt yourself suddenly get exposed.

You felt so vulnerable and naked being pressed between the wooden door and your girlfriend, clad in just your white undies. Alexia’s hands were suddenly gripping your waist as she deepened the kiss.

The opportunity to catch your breath came when your girlfriend eagerly moved her mouth to your neck and down to your collarbones. You held on tightly to her as continued to hungrily nibble at your skin.

Alexia was more eager than she ever was. It felt exciting to her, being this intimate outside the confines of your tiny dorm room. She knew you two weren’t getting caught but the possibility of it made her heart beat faster against her chest as she felt her growing arousal.

“A-Alexia, are you sure we won’t be caught?” You said with some hesitation. Once your girlfriend had moved her mouth to your neck, her head no longer obstructed the sight of the altar staring right at you. “We’d be in big trouble if we get caught.”

Alexia pulled away for a second before looking around. “Monjita, no one’s gonna catch us.” She responded. “Why don’t I make you feel better so I can distract you from your worries, hmm?”

It didn’t take long to convince you and before you knew it, Alexia had slipped off your underwear and carried you over to the pews.

Alexia had you sitting on the edge of the seat with one foot perched on the seat beside your body and the other flat on the floor, feeling the cold wood on your bare butt as she kneeled in front of you, eating you out.

You moaned out loud as you felt your girlfriend’s skilled tongue draw circles around your clit, causing your legs to shake. “Oh my god, that feels so good.”

Alexia continued to eat you out, hungry for the taste of your juices. She loved hearing moans and whimpers exit your mouth as she continuously traced shapes with her tongue on to your core.

Your hips bucked as you felt her tongue graze against the small part of your clit, feeling extremely sensitive against the warm sensation of her mouth.

Your arms held on to the back support of the wooden pew as you arched your body against Alexia’s mouth. “Alexia, I’m cumming.” You moaned out.

Alexia smiled before slowly lifting her head up from your core. Before protests could even escape your mouth, Alexia had moved up to capture your lips again, tasting yourself on her mouth.

She pulled away, hazel eyes scanning your face. “I wanna touch you from behind. Is that good, angel?”

You blinked, clueless as to what Alexia meant by that. Being a virgin from a Catholic boarding school meant Alexia always had to introduce you to new things, new positions — stuff you had never even imagined. But, you just trusted Alexia to know what’s best and how to make you feel good.

You bit your lip and nodded, causing your girlfriend to smile widely before helping you up from your position.

Alexia delicately guided you, slowly instructing you to lean over the back support of the pew in front of you. You felt slightly awkward bent over like that, breasts hanging as you held onto the seat in front you. Alexia kept your butt lifted high, rubbing it slightly.

She cursed under her breath, incredibly aroused at the sight of you bent over like that for her, so submissive and vulnerable under her touch. She felt like she was corrupting you but this time, she didn’t feel so guilty. How could she when you were bent over so obediently, so willingly in front of her?

“Tell me if you feel uncomfortable and we can stop,” she ordered. “Okay, angel?”

You nodded but felt a sudden slap against your butt, not too hard to give you pain but hard enough to surprise you.

Alexia tutted her tongue. “Use your words, angel.” She ordered. “I need you to be more vocal when I can’t see your face, okay?”

“Y-yes, Alexia.” You responded as you felt your own slick trickle down your leg. Something about Alexia being dominant and strict turned you on even more.

Your eyes fluttered shut and a gasp escaped your lips as you felt two fingers enter you. It was a completely different sensation from being on your back; it felt tighter.

“God, angel, you’re so tight.” Alexia uttered between grit teeth. “You’re taking me in so well.”

She held onto your hips to steady you before she began pushing in and out of you at a steady pace. You moaned every time you felt your girlfriend’s fingers enter you since your position made it easier for her to reach your g-spot with every single thrust.

Alexia was growing more and more turned on as she fucked you from behind, turned on not only by the feeling of you tight around her fingers but also the environment. It felt forbidden, it felt wrong, which made it all the more better.

Alexia leaned over, keeping one hand inside you and the other snaking its way to your chest. Her strong hands held you up, which gave you a better angle to see the sacred imagery in front of you. You felt guilty doing what you were doing in the position you were in but the guilt didn’t linger long as the sensation of your girlfriend pounding behind you had dissipated whatever thought remained in your brain. All you could focus on was the sweet sensation of her fingers.

You cried out loud as you felt Alexia push more into you, fingers curling inwards with every thrust. Alexia smirked at the sound of your moans — a series of raggedy sounds and animalistic grunts. You could no longer control your voice but Alexia didn’t seem to mind.

“You’re all mine, angel.” Alexia grunted as she continued to thrust into you. “Say you’re mine.”

You moaned, finding it too difficult to get her name out as you were over the edge. “A…ale—”

SLAP.

You grunted at the sting of your girlfriend’s hands against your butt. It definitely hurt but something about it felt so satisfying. “Try again, angel.”

You took a deep inhale, trying not to get too distracted by Alexia’s consistent fingering. “I’m yours, Alexia,” you grunted out. “I’m all yours.”

Alexia felt the pride and warmth spread through her body and fuel her up to keep fucking you until you were a disheveled mess.

It didn’t take long until you were slowly feeling that familiar build up again, feeling yourself clench and tighten as your girlfriend continued to thrust into you. You moaned out loudly, causing Alexia to hush you.

“Oh my,” you blubbered out as you felt the pleasure reach its peak. “Oh my god!”

With that, you came undone, feeling yourself clench around your girlfriend a couple times as the pleasure rippled across your body. You would have fallen limp, draped on the church pew, if Alexia hadn’t lifted you back up to prop you on her lap as she sat down.

You wrapped your arms around Alexia and kissed her lips, softly as you were still breathless. “Alexia, you were way too naughty this time. I swear.”

Alexia teasingly tutted her tongue. “It’s not good to swear inside a chapel.”

You playfully smacked her on her forearm, earning a chuckle from her. “Great, now, I’d have to go back to my room all hot and bothered.” You complained.

Alexia raised an eyebrow at you. “Who said we were going back already?” She smirked as her hand found its way back in between your legs again.

You pouted and closed your legs tightly. “No more, Ale, I’m tired out.” You complained. “Plus, you have a game tomorrow. You need to get some rest.”

She frowned. “Don’t you think I need motivation for it?”

You rolled your eyes, feeling the soreness in between your legs already, and as you were about to reprimand your girlfriend for being too horny and greedy, you got an idea.

“Okay, we can have more fun,” you said but quickly pushed your girlfriend away as she was about to lean in. “But, I want to be the one to pleasure you this time.”

Alexia’s lips curled into a smile. “Angel, pleasuring you pleasures me, come on —” You stopped her again from leaning in.

“It’s either you let me or we go back up.” You said. “Come on, Ale. I wanna know what it feels like too… I wanna taste you.”

Alexia bit her lips as she scanned your eyes, seeing nothing but genuine curiosity and eagerness.

She sighed. “Okay fine, but don’t be disappointed if you don’t make me cum,” she warned. “It’s your first time and… it can be a lot to handle.”

The nerves kicked in as Alexia said it but you figured you might as well try now. You carefully got on your knees, feeling the coolness of the tiles against your legs.

You bit your lip as you slowly untied Alexia’s pajama pant strings before removing it from her body, together with her underwear. It wasn’t the first time that you’ve seen Alexia’s bottom half naked but it certainly felt different being within such close proximity to it. It felt so hot being on your knees in front of her nakedness. Alexia decided to add fuel to fire, lifting her top up to bite onto the hem to expose her defined stomach.

Eagerly, your hands made their way to her legs, separating them so that Alexia would be completely exposed to you. Her folds glistened under the dim lights, practically shining in its wetness. You nervously looked at Alexia’s core, running a steady finger through it just to get familiar to the touch.

Alexia inhaled sharply as your fingers stopped just against her clip, tentatively rubbing up and down then in circles. She watched you look at her pussy, almost calculating, as you moved your fingers through it.

After a few minutes of trying to rub against Alexia’s core, you decided to use your fingers to further spread her apart, nervously gulping before you leaned forward and captured her clit with your mouth. You mimicked Alexia’s movements whenever it was her who was eating you out, trying out a suction around her clit before ultimately licking it in various strokes.

Alexia bit more into the fabric of her shirt as she felt you graze against her swollen clit, seemingly knowing exactly what to do with it.

You looked up at her, lifting your head up to pause. “Alexia,” you started as you locked eyes with her. “Let me hear you, please.”

How could she resist you with your wide-eyed gaze, naked and vulnerable on your knees as you desperately tried to pleasure her?

Alexia nodded, letting the fabric of her shirt free from her mouth.

You eagerly put your mouth back on her, trying to recreate all the things she did with you. Soon enough, a series of moans left your girlfriend's lips. First, tentative and hesitant, low and quiet. But as you grew more and more accustomed to eating her out, Alexia’s moans grew louder and more delicate.

It was the first time you were hearing Alexia moan like that; you were accustomed to her occasional moans and grunts whenever she topped you but this was something new and something you definitely could get used to.

You felt Alexia’s hands find their way to the side of your head as she moved her hips up to grind against your mouth. Taking it as a good sign that she was close to an orgasm, you continued to suck at her clit with a faster yet steady pace.

How is she doing this on her first try, Alexia thought. She’s insane.

Aleia started to feel her climax approaching, shutting her eyes and throwing her head back. You continued fucking Alexia with your mouth and soon enough, she was twitching underneath you, mouth opened with no words or sounds escaping them. Pleasure had fully consumed her body.

You slowly looked up, watching your girlfriend’s chest rise and fall as she tried to catch her breath. After a few breaths, she looked down on you. “Where’d you learn that?”

You chuckled at her reaction. “Learned from the best.”

Alexia laughed, shaking her head before guiding you back up and propping you back on your lap. She gave you another soft kiss on the lips as she held you close.

“Thanks for that angel,” she smiled as her hazel eyes gazed into yours. “I felt like I was in heaven.”

Your cheeks grew red from the compliment, too flustered to say that that’s what she made you feel every single time you’ve been intimate before.

Alexia sighed, contentedly. “I’m so ready to win tomorrow.” She smiled at you. “Might be greedy of me considering I already won tonight.”

You shook your head and rolled your eyes at your girlfriend’s teasing. Though, you were sure she wasn’t completely joking then. Her eyes were filled with passion and energy; you were certain she’d channel all of that on the pitch.

You felt like you were floating after that night with Alexia at the basement chapel. It must have done the same to Alexia because she played on that field so effortlessly, moving through the opponents flawlessly.

You cheered from the stands, the only one from your school aside from the benched players cheering for your school.

Alexia scored a beautiful goal. Then, did a couple wonderful assists. Before you knew it, the team had won 5-0.

You screamed with joy, running onto the pitch as soon as the team huddle broke apart. Your heart soared as you wrapped your arms around Alexia, pulling her into a tight hug. Every fiber of your being wanted to kiss her, to celebrate this moment with her in the most intimate way, but you knew better. A kiss would send you straight back to the institute and to Sister Philomena’s office.

To not seem suspicious, you also ran to Ingrid to give her a congratulatory hug, complimenting her defending skills.

Before you could linger too long, Sister Ruth, the team’s coach, called the players over for another quick meeting before they headed to the showers. As Alexia turned to follow her teammates, she glanced back at you, subtly gesturing and mouthing, common room.

You nodded, understanding immediately, and made your way toward the dorm building where Alexia and the rest of the team were staying. But as you walked, you realized that you had no idea where you were going. The campus was unfamiliar, and you quickly found yourself looking around, lost and more than a little clueless.

A voice cut through your thoughts, smooth and teasing. “Are you lost, pretty girl?”

You turned to see the source of the voice — a girl with brown hair, warm brown eyes, and freckles dusting her cheeks. Your eyes quickly flickered to her shirt, noticing that she was one of the players from the home team.

“Ah, yeah…” You laughed nervously, rubbing the back of your neck. “My best friend told me to meet her at the common room in the dorm building where our team is staying in, but, uh… I have no idea how to get there.”

The girl tilted her head, biting her lip slightly as she watched you. Her eyes lingered on your lips a second longer than necessary. “Well, lucky for you, I happen to live in those dorms. I can walk you there if you’d like.”

You perked up, completely oblivious to the way she was checking you out. The thought didn’t even cross your mind—you were only ever hyperaware of flirtation when it came from Alexia.

“Really? That would be amazing!” you said, your face lighting up with gratitude. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

Her lips curled up into a smirk. “Ona,” she replied, her voice a tad deep and smooth as silk.

As Ona walked you towards the common room, you learned a lot about her. She was a couple years younger than you were and had stayed in this academy for a while but she was planning on moving out to train with a bigger school that was more geared towards sports.

“You must be really good then,” you nodded.

Ona chuckled. “Well, I don’t know if I could say that after my team lost five-nil.”

You shyly nodded. “Don’t be too hard on yourself,” you comforted. “Alexia was just really on fire today and I didn’t anticipate her to go as hard as she did today.”

Ona nodded, watching your expression carefully. “Alexia… uh, the girl with the number 11?” She asked. “She’s on another level. I’d expect to see the likes of her in La Masia or some other football academy, not in a nun school — no offense.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Yeah… she’s something else,” you said, warmth spreading through your chest at the mention of Alexia. “She deserves better training, that’s for sure.”

Ona was quick to notice the shift in your voice, raising her eyebrows. “Wait, so is she your —” She let the question hang.

Your breath hitched but you tried not to be so obviously taken aback. “My best friend?” You quickly added. “Yeah, she is.”

The brunette laughed, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. “You do know we’re a secular-run school now, right?”

You blinked, tilting your head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Ona chuckled, her tone light. “I mean, technically we’re still a Catholic school, but we’re not as strict as you guys. Well, at least, ever since the nuns left us,” she explained. “So, everyone here is pretty open-minded.”

You bit your lip, knowing fully well what she was hinting at but you just had no clue what to say. You remained guarded; you still weren’t sure if she was to be trusted.

Ona studied your silence with curiosity before raising an eyebrow. “Wait, don’t tell me you’re a homophobe—”

“No! No!” you blurted out, your hands shooting up in defense. “I—I don’t have a problem with that. Gay people are… they’re great. The best, actually. But Alexia, she’s just a—”

Ona burst out laughing, cutting off your rambling with her genuine amusement. “Okay, okay, chill,” she said, shaking her head as if to put you out of your misery. She pushed open a large wooden door, revealing the bustling common room where a few of her teammates were hanging out. “Come on in.”

The student common room in this school was a stark contrast to the common room in your boarding school. Everyone was chattering loudly. A bunch of the other girls had already taken off their shirts, hanging around in their sports bras. The place wasn’t untidy but it certainly appeared a bit more cluttered with photos tacked all over the bulletin board and random trinkets all over the shelves.

A couple girls approached Ona, taking notice of you, still dressed in your school uniform. A shorter girl with light-colored eyes smiled.

“Ona, don’t tell me you’ve called dibs already,” she teased Ona, eyes flickering to your school emblem embroidered on your button up. “On the enemy too.”

Ona chuckled. “Shut up, Pina. She’s just here to hang out until her team comes over.” She told the shorter girl. “Be nice cause we want them to think we’re cool.”

Pina rolled her eyes. “They’re never gonna think we’re cool after they beat us 5-nil.”

“That’s just cause the captains and our goalkeeper are all sick,” A shorter girl with curly hair said before taking a sip of her jug. “We would have crushed them if we hadn’t gone to that sushi place just a few days back.”

“And who exactly recommended that sushi place, Vicky?” Pina said as she stared pointedly at the shorter girl.

Vicky shrugged. “I didn’t hear you complaining when you pounded back that rack of 5 euro sashimi.”

You chuckled at the banter, feeling a little more at ease. Without warning, Ona slipped an arm around your shoulders, her touch light yet deliberate, and began guiding you toward the sofas at the far end of the room. “Yeah, let’s get away from those two before they give you a headache,” she said with a soft laugh, her voice low and warm. “Want a drink?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. What do you have?” you asked, awkwardly perching on the edge of a worn leather couch positioned beside a refrigerator cluttered with magnets and Polaroid photos.

Ona hummed thoughtfully as she opened the fridge. “Let’s see… we’ve got soda, orange juice, beer—and some kombucha that Aitana’s been brewing. Pretty sure that’s for her stomach problems, though. Oh, and chocolate milk.”

You blinked, taken aback by the casual mention of beer in a boarding school. “Beer?”

“Beer it is,” Ona said with a playful grin, completely misinterpreting your surprise as enthusiasm. She grabbed a can and handed it to you. “Never would’ve pegged a girl from a nun school to be a beer drinker, but here you go.”

You took it cautiously, unsure of how to politely decline. “Uh… thanks.” You said as you carefully ran your fingers through the rim of the can.

Ona seemed to catch your reluctance as she plopped down beside you, her thigh brushing against yours. “Oh, my bad. Where are my manners?” she said, reaching over to take the can back. With a deft motion, she cracked it open, a slight smirk tugging at her lips. “Here you go, pretty.”

You smiled nervously and took a small sip. The bitter taste hit you immediately, and your face scrunched up in response, unable to hide disgust.

Ona noticed and laughed softly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Not a fan of beer, huh?”

You shook your head, feeling a little embarrassed.

“No worries, I’ve got you,” she said, effortlessly taking the can from your hands. “I’ll finish this, and I’ll grab you some water. Sounds good?”

You nodded, grateful. Ona leaned back against the couch, bringing the can to her lips. She paused deliberately, taking a slow sip from the same spot you had. Her gaze flickered toward you, a playful glint in her eyes. It was obvious she was trying to flirt, but the meaning went right over your head. All you could think was how friendly and helpful she was.

As she stood to grab you some water, she looked over to you. “So, how’s nun school treating you?” She asked before handing you a glass of chilled water. “You must have stories to tell.”

You chuckled. “Well, it’s… okay,” you said cautiously, tucking a hair behind your ear. “I mean, I’ve been there all my life so it’s all I’ve ever known really.”

Ona’s eyes widened. “You’ve been in nun school since you were a kid?” She said with an incredulous tone. “I go to this school and I already feel crazy sometimes. I can’t imagine how I’d survive your school.”

You told Ona more about your life at Santa Eulalia, and just how strict it was — the curfew, the rules on leaving the premises, the uniform rules, the rules on visitation, and how rare it was that you got to see your family.

“And our common rooms have to be pristine,” you shared. “We can only have decorations if it’s related to Christianity. So, crosses and doves — all that.”

Ona shook her head. “No way.”

You nodded, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips. “Oh, and no music either, unless it’s spiritual or instrumental — like piano or violins,” you explained. “Some of the girls tried sneaking in iPods with instrumental versions of popular songs, but the sisters caught on and banned those too.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Ona said, looking genuinely horrified. With a playful glint in her eye, she reached over, taking your half-empty glass of water and replacing it with her can of beer. “Okay, I’ve changed my mind. You need to drink this. Live a little.”

You shook your head, laughing at her antics. “I’m fine, really,” you said, but there was an undeniable warmth in her playful insistence.

“So, what changed?” Ona asked, leaning closer, her curiosity clear. “You said you didn’t think of it as strict and overbearing until recently. What happened?”

Well, I met Alexia, you thought but kept to yourself.

Before you could come up with an answer, the sound of excited greetings filled the room. Your heart leapt as your teammates entered the common area, and your eyes immediately found the familiar sight of your girlfriend among them. She looked like she had just taken a bath, hair down and damp, and changed into a fresh set of clothes.

Your lips curled into a smile.

But Alexia’s expression was far less cheerful. Her brows knitted together as her gaze landed on you sitting so close to Ona. Her eyes flickered to the girl’s arm stretched across the back of the sofa, inches from your shoulder, and then to the can of beer in your hand.

Alexia’s jaw tightened. She was never the jealous type, but something about the way Ona looked at you — smug and a little too comfortable — set her on edge. She figured she was just protective because of how sheltered and clueless you were.

She walked towards you and Ona. You both stood and Ona offered a hand to Alexia which Alexia reluctantly shook. “You played great,” she complimented your girlfriend, making you smile at the fact that Alexia was being appreciated.

Alexia nodded stoically. “Thanks,” she said before turning to you. “Monjita, what do you have there?”

You looked down to your hands and chuckled. “Oh! It’s beer,” you said shocked by the sight of it. “I tasted it but didn’t like it. You want it?”

You thrusted the can towards your girlfriend who took it reluctantly.

Ona smiled, “I’ve drunk most of it already while this pretty girl,” she wrapped an arm around you, “barely even had a sip.”

Alexia’s jaw clenched, annoyed by the shorter brunette. Why is she sharing a beer with this girl?

She set the can down on a nearby table. “Do you wanna go on a walk with me, monjita?”

You nodded enthusiastically as you trailed after Alexia, giving Ona a polite goodbye and thanks for her warm accommodations.

As you moved closer to Alexia, it was her turn to wrap an arm around you and throw a quick, snide look at Ona.

“I thought you guys would never come. Y'all were taking so long,” you told your girlfriend. “Thankfully, the other team was incredibly nice. Ona seems really cool too.”

“Yeah, real cool.” Her voice said, dripping with sarcasm.

You looked quizzically at your girlfriend but didn’t prod anymore. “You did so good, by the way.” You hummed as Alexia led you back to the room she was staying in with the other girls. “You played like a pro. It was insane.”

Alexia hummed as she shut the door behind you two. Just as you were about to part your lips to say something, Alexia’s lips crashed into yours, kissing you.

She pulled away and a smile finally appeared on her face. “I just had to do that to feel better,” she said.

“W-what?”

“That Ona girl was all over you,” Alexia said as she walked over to what seemed like her bed, grabbing the brush she left on top, unable to brush her hair earlier as she had rushed out of the showers to head to you. “It made me feel a bit jealous.”

You smirked as you walked up to her. You sat on top of Alexia’s lap and grabbed the brush from her, doing the brushing instead. Sure, given your position, you weren’t doing a great job at brushing but Alexia didn’t mind. She loved having you on top of her.

“Why would you be jealous, Ale?” You cooed. “You know I’m yours already.”

She huffed, feeling a tad insecure, which made her feel silly. She was the one who had just won and the one who had a beautiful girlfriend on her lap but she still felt uneasy.

What if she’s only with me because I’m convenient, the doubtful thought flickered in Alexia’s mind.

You noticed your girlfriend’s gloomy expression. You grabbed her face and forced her to look at you. Your eyes flickered through her face. “Ale, you know I only love you, right?”

“Hmm,” she smiled, all worries dissipating. “You love me?”

You smiled back before planting a kiss on her lips. “Yes, silly,” you said. “I love you so don’t be jealous anymore.”

Alexia leaned forward to catch another kiss from you. “I love you too, monjita.” She said warmly.

You continued to brush her hair as she held you close to her. Alexia sighed. “I just really worried about seeing that girl interested in you,” she said. “She seems like she’d be your type.”

You laughed loudly. “My type? Alexia Putellas, you’re my type.”

Your girlfriend looked at you with a pouty expression which you just chuckled at. “I didn’t even have a crush until you came along.” You reminded her. “How can I have a type who isn’t you?”

Alexia’s worries were eased. “Okay, okay,” she said. “Maybe I was just being ridiculous about it.”

Her eyes fluttered to your lips. “It wouldn't hurt if you kissed me to remind me again that I’m your type.”

You rolled your eyes but shifted your position so that you’d be straddling Alexia. You dropped the brush to your side before you leaned in to capture Alexia’s lips with yours.

Alexia’s hands hiked up your long skirt, pushing it up so that the long fabric wouldn’t be that in the way. She put her hands underneath the skirt and held your ass with both hands. You gasped against her mouth once you felt her squeeze them.

You continued to kiss your girlfriend deeply, parting your lips to let her slip her tongue inside you. You moaned as you grinded your hips against her lap.

The kiss was just starting to heat up when the doors suddenly creaked open. You two suddenly jumped from the bed, apart from each other.

You looked over to the door to see Maria and Ingrid, looking just as confused as startled as you were. You felt your heart pound against your chest as you quickly shook your head and held your hands up in defense.

“We… we were just…” you stammered, your hands flying up in defense. “I was helping Alexia brush her hair.”

Maria closed the door behind her, slowly shaking her head. “Uh-huh,” she murmured, clearly not buying a word. She turned back toward you and Alexia, her expression unreadable. Ingrid’s gaze darted between you two, her lips pressed in a thin line.

Feeling the silence stretch on, you blurted, “Alexia, she just had—”

“Monjita,” Alexia interrupted, shooting you a warning look.

You blinked, looking at Alexia then her two roommates, still confused. “W-what? Are you going to tell Sister—”

Ingrid stepped forward, raising a hand to cut you off. “Relax, darling,” she said calmly, though her tone was firm. “We’ve always known you two were… a thing. And no, we’re not going to tell anyone.”

You exhaled shakily, relief mixing with disbelief as you tried to process her words. “How did you…?” You trailed off, looking between Ingrid and Maria. “When did you…?”

You threw a look at Alexia who looked just as startled. Ingrid smiled at you. “You two weren’t exactly the most subtle,” she said before looking at Maria. “Well, to us, anyway.”

Alexia glanced at Ingrid and then Maria before it clicked inside her brain. “Oh!” She said. “You two are also—”

“Yep,” Maria confirmed with a nod, crossing her arms. “Since Ingrid moved to Santa Eulalia.”

It took you a moment longer to process, but when it clicked, the realization hit you like a ton of bricks. The two had always been inseparable, practically glued to each other’s side, but you’d chalked it up to just being teammates.

“Oh!”

Ingrid chuckled at your stunned expression. “I’m sorry we didn’t tell you,” she said, stepping closer to take your hand reassuringly. “But we didn’t know if you’d… be okay with it. You know how it is.”

You nodded, still dazed.

“But I’m glad we can finally be open about this now,” Ingrid added with a warm smile before pulling you into a tight hug.

When she pulled away, her expression grew serious, her gaze shifting between you and Alexia. “Okay, now that the gushy part is over…” she began. “I need to scold you two.”

“Yeah,” Maria chimed in, rubbing the back of her neck. “Kissing with the door unlocked? Rookie move.”

Ingrid folded her arms, her tone sharpening. “Look, we’re happy for you, truly. But you two need to be more careful.”

Maria nodded in agreement, her voice quieter but equally firm. “Not everyone’s going to be as accepting as we are. You can’t even trust people who seem okay or cool. It’s not worth the risk.” She looked at Alexia. “Which is why we never told you, even if you reeked of gay.”

Ingrid laughed at her girlfriend’s comment as Alexia just shrugged and raised her eyebrows.

Ingrid sighed and looked back at you. “Just be careful, okay?” She hummed. “People can be cruel. Trust us… we know.”

You nodded cautiously. A growing anxiety filled you even though your friends had practically reassured you. You looked over to Alexia who looked just reassured.

Even if you got lucky now, with just Ingrid and Maria finding you, you know you had to be more careful later on.

You and Alexia agreed to keep the PDA on the low while you were around peers, taking a page out of Ingrid and Maria’s book wherein while they were always together, it would be hard to decipher they were a couple.

It was difficult for Alexia especially when everyone agreed to have a makeshift party after dinner in the common room with the other team. While most of the more conservative girls from your school opted out and chose to turn in early instead, a few decided to let loose and have fun with the girls from the hosting school.

Her annoyance primarily came from Ona constantly hovering around you, obviously taking an interest in you. You weren’t having much fun either, being apart from Alexia most of the time so you turned over early, using the excuse that Sister Catherine wouldn’t be pleased with you staying out too late.

Alexia watched Ona become deflated and annoyed as her attempts at flirtation had gone unappreciated, which just made Alexia feel in a better mood.

But as the night wore on, with everyone having fun and letting loose in the common room, Alexia just wanted to sneak over to your room again and just hold you. No sneaky business this time; she just missed a proper cuddle. But she knew there was no way that that was happening tonight.

Sighing deeply, she sat on the unoccupied couch after grabbing a beer, savoring the taste of it fully knowing it would take probably a year for her to taste alcohol again. To her dismay, Ona walked over to her, plopping beside her.

“So, tell me,” the shorter girl asked. “How’d you manage to bag the hottest girl in your school?”

Alexia’s jaw clenched, her expression unreadable as she brought her beer to her lips. “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied coolly, her voice void of any emotion as she took a swig of her beer.

Ona chuckled knowingly. “Come on, it’s so obvious. You were practically glaring at us the entire time we were talking,” she teased. Her grin widened as she added, “That’s the only explanation I’m willing to accept. There’s no way someone like her wouldn’t be into me unless—well, unless she’s already taken.”

Alexia hummed, smirking. “Maybe she just doesn’t like you,” she shrugged before downing her beer. “She might just like someone taller and less full of herself, that’s all.”

Ona scoffed with a breathy chuckle, not offended but just amused at the passive-aggressive statement, as she watched Alexia stand up and walk over to Ingrid and Maria to join their group which was playing a silly drinking game.

At the moment, Alexia felt like it was such a mic drop moment but she was quick to regret downing that last beer, along with the other drinks she had after, the next morning when her head was pounding.

Her teammates basically had to drag her out of bed the next day to get dressed and attend the mass. Arriving at the chapel, they were forced to slink into the back row, earning a few stern glances from the sisters at the front.

Slouched in her seat, Alexia pressed her fingers to her temples, trying to ignore the hammering in her skull. But as the initial prayers began, her gaze wandered, drifting to the front row where you sat.

You were impossible to miss. The bright lights directed at the altar bounced against the wall, streaming onto you with a soft glow. Your hair was styled in a neat half-ponytail, and your pristine uniform was ironed perfectly. Alexia couldn’t help but stare, her heart skipping a beat at how angelic you looked.

She leaned back slightly, trying to mask her dazed expression, but her mind was far from the mass. Instead, it replayed the events of the last time you both were in this chapel. A rouge tint covered the Catalan’s cheeks as she smiled at the memory. How she would have loved to be beside you at that moment just to teasingly raise her eyebrows at you and watch you get flustered.

Alexia could barely pay attention to the mass, mind shifting from thinking about you to internally complaining about how painful her head felt. She wished she grabbed a bottle of water before rushing to the chapel to feel at least a bit less dehydrated.

She tried to appear less hungover and dehydrated when it was time for communion when she had to pass by the first row where you and the nuns were sitting. As she passed the first row, her eyes flicked to you again. She could feel Sister Jude’s sharp gaze on her and heard the nun mutter something under her breath about Alexia’s appearance — something about her “unironed shirt” and “unkempt hair.”

But Alexia didn’t care.

Her focus was entirely on you. Your eyes met hers for the briefest moment, and your cheeks flushed a soft pink as you quickly looked away. The sight of your bashful expression made her forget the ache in her head and the disapproving glares of the sisters.

If she could, she would have teased you right then and there — raised her eyebrows suggestively or whispered something cheeky just to see you flustered. But with Sister Jude’s watchful eyes on her, Alexia forced herself to keep moving, a small smirk tugging at her lips.

As she reached the altar, she thought to herself. They can glare at me all they want. None of it matters as long as she looks at me like that.

When the mass concluded, the nuns called everyone over to the courtyard to discuss the rules for the much-anticipated day out. The group shuffled into a loose circle, the excitement palpable despite the stern expressions of the sisters.

“And girls, remember,” Sister Ruth said in a firm voice. “You are wearing your school shirt with the school emblem. This means you carry the identity of the school with you so you must uphold the values of our beloved institution.”

The group nodded obediently, though you could sense the collective impatience bubbling beneath the surface.

Sister Jude stepped forward, her sharp eyes scanning the students. “Please pair up and ensure at least one of you has a watch to keep track of time. Anyone who arrives at the bus a minute later than the scheduled departure will receive an infraction. No exceptions.”

Sister Catherine went around handing out your maps and envelopes with your modest allowance.

“Okay, girls, pair up now and remember the watch thing.” Sister Catherine said after handing over the items to everyone.

You smiled shyly at Alexia who confidently walked over to you. All headaches and sores seemed to dissipate whenever you were around her.

“Well, hello, stranger.” She teased, biting her lip as she looked at you.

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks, and you quickly glanced around to check if any of the nuns were paying attention. “Ale, don’t be too…” you trailed off, hoping she’d catch the warning in your tone.

You couldn’t help but laugh, swatting at her playfully when she tried to snake a hand around your waist. “You’re impossible,” you muttered under your breath, but the fondness in your voice was unmistakable.

Before the moment could linger, the nuns began organizing everyone into a line to board the bus. Alexia kept close to you, her arm brushing against yours as the group shuffled forward. Once you were seated, she wasted no time sprawling into her seat beside you, her long legs stretching slightly into the aisle.

You opened the map eagerly, your finger tracing the streets and landmarks marked in bold print. There was a red circle the nuns had drawn on to the map, which Sister Jude was firm on reminding everyone earlier that it was the limited parameters in which you all could roam around; they didn’t want anyone running farther than it.

“Oh, Ale, we should try this place,” you began, pointing to a gelato shop well within the confines of a parameter. “I’ve been craving a good gelato for ages now”

Alexia leaned closer, her chin nearly resting on your shoulder as she followed your finger. “Hmm, I don’t know,” she mused, using the red circle more as a go beyond this area sign. “That looks like it’s in nun territory. Too risky.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes as Alexia leaned closer to study the fine paper of the map spread across your lap. She hummed in thought, her finger grazing various spots before she pressed it firmly on a location just beyond the red circle that marked the boundary.

“Look, monjita,” Alexia teased, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “This one says homemade gelato, and it’s right beside a jewelry shop.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing skeptically at the spot she was pointing to. “I don’t know, Ale,” you murmured, lowering your voice. “What if the nuns catch us?”

Alexia let out an exaggerated groan, rolling her eyes. “Please, it’s like ten meters outside the parameter. They’ll be too excited being out and about to even think about exploring beyond the red circle. And think about it—” she leaned in, her hazel eyes gleaming mischievously, “we’d get to comfortably act like a couple without worrying too much.”

You hummed, contemplating. Alexia added on, “And, we can visit the jewelry shop nearby. It says it’s handmade so you can ask the shopkeeper about how she makes them.”

Your lips twitched, fighting back a smile. You’ve always wanted to explore jewelry design and crafting, and Alexia knew that. What you didn’t know, however, was that Alexia had secretly brought along some of her savings, fully planning to surprise you with an early Christmas gift.

Before you could respond, Sister Jude’s sharp voice cut through the low chatter on the bus. “Girls, one final reminder before we leave,” she announced, standing at the front of the aisle with her hands clasped tightly in front of her. “Stay within the marked areas on your maps, return to the bus on time, and for heaven’s sake, do not make a scene. Is that understood?”

A chorus of “Yes, Sister Jude” echoed through the bus, though you and Alexia exchanged a knowing glance, biting back laughter.

As the bus came to a stop, everyone began shuffling out in pairs. You and Alexia hung back slightly, waiting until the nuns were preoccupied with handing out last-minute instructions. The moment you stepped off the bus and out of their line of sight, Alexia slipped her hand into yours, her fingers intertwining with a natural ease.

She gave your hand a light squeeze before pulling you closer, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “There,” she said with a grin, her voice soft. “Finally.”

You blushed, glancing around to make sure no one was watching. “Ale, you’re going to get us in trouble,” you muttered, though you didn’t pull away.

“Relax,” she said, brushing her thumb over your knuckles. “We’re just two innocent best friends holding hands. Totally normal.”

Alexia and you had begun wandering towards the direction of the gelato stop, occasionally stopping to look through shopfronts and the animals that passed by with their owners. Whenever a small dog passed by, Alexia gushed at it, even going out to say a small bon dia to every dog, surprising you. “Never pegged you to be such a dog lover.”

Alexia nodded. “I’ve always wanted a dog, a small one like the one.” She shared, before moving her hand from yours to around your shoulder. “But my grandparents were allergic so all we had were stupid fish.”

You chuckled, biting your lip as you got an idea. “Well, we can always just buy a dog then,” you chirped. “It can live in our apartment since the owner did say the building is pet-friendly.”

Alexia immediately caught on to your roleplaying and played along. “Oh, but honey, are you sure you’d be fine with it? What if it poops all over our apartment?”

You smiled widely. “Well… I’ll make you pick it up then.”

“Sure,” she hummed. “Or we can just hire a dog nanny! I mean, we both make so much money anyway now that you practically own Cartier and I’m a big-time football superstar!”

You nodded. “A dog nanny it is.”

You looked up to her, locking eyes before you both burst into a laugh at yourselves. Alexia shook her head, “But seriously, if we do leave that school, would you like to…” she trailed off, worrying it would be too soon to even bring it up.

You squeezed the hand around your shoulder with your own, making Alexia meet your eyes. “Of course, Alexia,” you said sincerely. “We’ll get a place of our own, adopt a dog – maybe, not a dog nanny yet – but yeah…”

Alexia’s eyes warmed visibly. She exhaled a quiet laugh but there was a hint of emotion to it. She didn’t want to be overly emotional over something so small so she just stayed silent, smiling to herself.

“Oh look,” Alexia pointed. “It’s the gelato shop.”

The shop was small and inviting, with an intricately painted sign overhead that read Gelateria Fiori. The front was painted with white and light pink stripes and there was a string of fairy lights hanging above the sign.

You stepped inside, holding hands with Alexia, immediately overwhelmed by the aroma of fresh waffle cones and a variety of flavors. The two of you peered into the display with handwritten signs of traditional and more unusual flavors: Pistachio, Stracciatella, Chocolate, Vanilla, Lavender Honey, Mint, and even a bunch more.

Alexia chuckled at your wide-eyed expression. “You look like a kid in a candy store.”

You beamed at her. “How aren’t you excited?” You said, unable to contain your excitement. “Everything here looks so good.”

Without hesitation, you leaned over the counter and began asking the worker for samples, your voice bubbling with enthusiasm. Alexia stayed back, watching with a soft smile as you tasted flavor after flavor. There was a childlike wonder in your eyes, and it made her chest feel warm.

You hummed happily after trying the Stracciatella. “Why are all the flavors so good?” you groaned, turning to Alexia with an exaggerated pout. “Maybe having ice cream before lunch wasn’t such a good idea.”

Alexia smiled, tucking a hair behind your ear, happy to see you be so excited over ice cream. “Let’s be bad, angel,” she said in a low voice. “Let’s have ice cream for lunch.”

Your cheeks warmed at her touch, but you laughed, the playfulness in her tone impossible to resist. “Alright,” you said, already scanning the counter again. “If we’re being bad, I’m going all out.”

You ended up ordering three scoops of different flavors, piling them high in a waffle cone. Alexia went for a parfait, elegantly layered with fruit and gelato. The two of you found a cozy corner table by the window, the faint sound of the street outside blending with your quiet chatter.

As you dug into your ice cream, Alexia couldn’t help but watch you with a fond expression. You caught her gaze and tilted your head, raising an eyebrow. “Ale, why are you staring at me like that?”

“I have an idea,” Alexia smiled as her lips curled into a smile, swirling her spoon around in her parfait. “Why don’t we pretend this is a first date?”

You tilted your head. “First date?”

“Yeah, I mean, we never really had a real first date. I just met you, moved in, and lived with you ever since — talk about UHAUL.” She joked which you cautiously laughed at, not understanding the joke reference. She smiled, forgetting you were the sheltered angel that you were, always so clueless to pop culture references. She exhaled. “Okay, I’ll start – hey, I’m Alexia.”

You chuckled, introducing yourself before stretching your hand to shake hers. “Nice to meet you, Alexia.”

“So, I like football and I like going to the beach and having a swim,” she said, putting a finger to her chin, pretending to think. “Oh, and I like pretty, innocent girls and how they blush whenever I look at them.”

“Girls – plural?” You playfully cocked an eyebrow at her.

“First date and you’re jealous already?” She teased, before putting a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth.She nodded. “But… I guess, I do like possessive girls.”

You two chuckled. The pretend date continued with you two being silly over your fantasies of delusion. No matter how ridiculous it was, it kinda felt like a real first date. It gave you the normalcy that being in a boarding school deprived you of.

After you finished your ice cream, you walked over to the nearby jewelry shop. The storefront had an inviting and esoteric charm with warm light spilling out onto the street. Inside, there were carved wooden displays all over the shop. There were glass cases filled with uniquely crafted items.

The tall woman with a friendly smile greeted you and Alexia. “Hello, ladies. Looking for anything in particular?”

You bit your lip, thinking about the Euro notes left in your envelope, knowing all you’d be able to afford was maybe the clasp or a steel chain. You nodded with, “Oh, yes, just looking…”

The clerk gestured for you to browse freely. Alexia leaned in and whispered, “Go ahead, enjoy yourself.” She gave your shoulder a light squeeze before stepping aside, letting you take your time exploring.

You wandered off to the far end of the room, completely captivated by the sparkling displays. Your eyes sparkled with awe as you admired delicate rings, intricate necklaces, and bracelets adorned with gemstones.

While you were lost in admiration, Alexia approached the clerk with a soft smile. Lowering her voice, she said, “So… I really want to get a nice gift for my girlfriend, but I have no idea where to start.”

The clerk’s eyes sparkled. “Ooh, how sweet! So thoughtful at such a young age,” she walked over to grab a velvet box of rings, lifting the glass lid to show Alexia. “Rings are popular with young couples; you can get her a promise ring, if you’d like.”

Alexia’s eyes carefully scanned the set, touching one that looked like a branch. Her fingers brushed against the texture of the gold ring. “Oh this is gorgeous,” she hummed. “It kinda reminds me of a tree branch.”

The clerk nodded approvingly. “It’s one of our more unique pieces.

Alexia studied the ring for a moment longer before setting it down carefully. It was lovely, but something about it didn’t feel quite right. “Could I put this one aside and look at some necklaces instead?” she asked.

“Of course, dear,” the clerk replied warmly, leading Alexia to another corner of the shop.

They explored several options together—gemstone necklaces, bold statement pieces, and quirky designs with small working watches or abstract shapes. None of them seemed right. The extravagant pieces would be too ostentatious for you while the novelty pieces just felt impersonal.

Then, a glint caught Alexia’s eyes. She walked over to the source, looking into the glass case and she saw the most delicate necklace with a small, intricately designed bird.

The moment Alexia saw it, her eyes lit up. The simplicity and elegance of the piece struck a chord in her. The clerk noticed her reaction and smiled knowingly. Alexia gushed silently. “This is so perfect.”

Alexia touched the charm again, feeling the texture under her touch. It reminded her of your drawings but this time, this bird wasn’t grounded or caged or shot in the heart. It was a bird mid-flight, glowing and sparkling under the light. It was gorgeous but not too flashy — just a small golden bird with its wings outspread on a dainty chain. It was perfect.

Alexia’s face softened into a warm smile. “I’ll take it,” she said without hesitation. Then she paused, a flicker of practicality crossing her mind, realizing she didn’t have an unlimited budget. “Wait… how much is it?”

The clerk chuckled at Alexia's reaction, quoting a price that was comfortably within Alexia’s budget. Relief washed over her — she could afford the necklace and still have enough left for a croissant or a peach later, if you suddenly fancied one.

“Perfect,” Alexia said with a firm nod. She handed over the cash and processed the purchase before calling you over. You turned around to see an excited look on your girlfriend’s face. You smiled and made your way over to her.

Alexia smiled at you. “Close your eyes and turn around,” she said. “I wanna show you something.”

You curiously tilted your head but she just nodded, gesturing for you to trust her. Without another moment of hesitation, you followed her orders, turned around and closed your eyes. “Now, lift up your hair.” Alexia said in a warm, low voice. The excitement was obvious in her tone.

With both hands, you delicately held your hair up as if in a makeshift ponytail as you felt something light be put around your neck. Alexia clasped the necklace from behind, feeling incredibly happy with her purchase. Carefully, she spun you around. “Open your eyes.”

As soon as your eyes fluttered open, the first thing you saw was your girlfriend’s smile, immediately warming your heart. “Look at the mirror, monjita.”

You nodded as you turned to the mirror propped on the display case and felt your breath get caught in your throat. “Wow, it’s so beautiful,” you didn’t know why but suddenly, tears welled up in your eyes as your hand gently grazed the charm, scared that it would break if you touched it any firmer. “I… it’s so…”

Alexia smiled. “You like it?”

You nodded and quickly wiped the small tears in your eyes as you did. Before you could even whisper to her that you didn’t have the funds to cover it, Alexia smiled and said, “It’s yours.”

“W-what?”

“I got it for you… as a gift,” Alexia said. “Think of it as an early Christmas present.”

Your mouth practically opened wide as she said it. Your eyes flickered to the reflection of the necklace then back to Alexia. “No, no,” you gushed. “You can’t… it’s too much.”

Alexia shook her head. “I already bought it, and they don’t do refunds.” She joked before putting a hand on your face, using her thumb to rub against your face. “C’mon, just say thanks and promise you’ll take care of it.”

You practically jumped into Alexia’s arms, wrapping your arms around her neck to hold her tightly. “Oh my god, Alexia, this is so nice of you.” You gushed. “I loved it. You’re the actual angel between us.”

Alexia felt herself grow soft and warm as she saw how happy you were. She smiled as she saw you look at yourself in the mirror, touching the necklace. The glow on your face was priceless; you truly looked like an actual angel to her. “Anything for my angel.”

You wanted to kiss Alexia then and there but the presence of the store clerk made you hesitate, settling to plant a kiss on her cheek instead. “Thank you, thank you so much.” You said in a hushed voice.

You two locked eyes for a moment before the store clerk interrupted, “I don’t usually do this but,” she paused to crouch down and grab a wooden box from behind the counter, fishing inside. “And I’m only doing this cause I’m a fan of young love, and I really think you two are cute and — ah, there it is…”

She took out a necklace from the cluttered box. “I actually have the prototype for that necklace,” she said. “It’s not as detailed and clean as the one you got but… I think it would be nice if you two matched.”

The lady handed over a nearly identical necklace. It wasn’t as polished as the one Alexia had bought for you but the difference was not all that different. You took it from her carefully.

“I should buy you this,” you paused to look into your bag where the envelope was. “Well, if it’s within my budget…”

The lady interrupted. “No, no, I’m giving it to you two and it’s not a big deal. It would have just been forgotten in this little box anyway.” She clarified, relieving you. “I think it deserves to belong with its twin and with a beautiful couple who deserve equally beautiful matching statement pieces.”

You thanked the lady endlessly before making your girlfriend turn around. “Okay, Alexia, bend so I can put this on you.” You ordered, trying to sound as confident as she did. She chuckled and bent her knees a bit as she lifted her hair.

You carefully placed the necklace around her neck, making sure to clasp it carefully. She turned around and looked into the mirror, beaming at the sight of the two of you with your matching necklaces.

“You two are so beautiful that I could cry,” the lady gushed, clasping her hands together dramatically. “Please, when the time comes and you two decide to get married, come back and I’ll gladly craft your rings for you – with a very generous discount.”

You chuckled, cheeks warming at her enthusiasm. You haven't even thought about marriage yet here was some stranger rooting so hard for the two of you that she was determined you'd end up walking down the aisle with Alexia. It was cute.

Before you could respond, Alexia smirked, mischief glinting in her eyes. “What do you think, honey?” she teased, slipping an arm loosely around your shoulders. “A simple gold band with a massive diamond? Maybe… thirteen carats?”

You shook your head and chuckled before playing along with her silliness. “Oh, absolutely. And don’t forget our darling dog. We'll need to get him a matching golden collar, of course.”

The two of you burst into laughter, the sound light and unrestrained, filling the cozy jewelry shop like a melody. At that moment, you forgot about boarding school, the high standard you had to uphold, the judgement; it all disappeared like a faint memory.

You glanced at Alexia as her laughter softened, her face still glowing with warmth. There was a lightness in her eyes that made your heart ache in the best way. In that fleeting moment, you felt like two birds flying high, chasing after one another playfully as you chirped gleefully.

You wished you could feel like that forever – free to love, free to live, free to be who you were without having to live up to who everyone expected you to be. Life would have been so much easier, if it were.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t your life.

After sharing a croissant and a soda on your way back from the jewelry shop, you’d realized that it was almost time for the agreed-upon meet-up. So, Alexia and you ran back with Alexia having to hold back just so she wouldn’t leave you trailing behind.

Once you got to the bus, Sister Jude gave you a faint glare. “You’re late,” she tutted before looking at her watch. “Well… almost late.”

You apologized even if you didn’t do anything wrong. Suddenly, the constrained feeling rushed back in. This was the life you actually had – a life where you had to be the perfect girl, live according to the rules, the bible, to the nun’s expectation. You clutched your necklace nervously as you stepped on the bus, finding comfort in its cold touch.

You sighed. Maybe that taste of freedom was enough for you to realize how desperate you were to leave the school and live the life you actually wanted.

Since returning back from the trip, life at Santa Eulalia felt more suffocating than ever. You’d always known that the school was restrictive but now, it felt unbearable to stay inside the confines of the school. You felt like a bird freed, given a taste of soaring through the sky, only to be captured again and forced back into your cage.

Every task, every class, every Bible reading – it felt like such a burden, holding you down and keeping you from living life.

Alexia noticed the change almost immediately. You talked endlessly about life outside — the places you wanted to see, the people you wanted to meet. You asked her to tell you more stories about her travels, about the countries and cities she’d visited. You even tried to ask her more about football, and what the culture surrounding it was outside the confines of your school.

The once vast halls of the school seemed to shrink around you.

It wasn’t just the yearning for freedom that consumed you; it was the growing doubt in your heart. The blind devotion that once guided you now wavered, replaced by a sense of questioning. For the first time, you started to wonder if you truly believed. You hated how questions were discouraged, and how curiosity was seen as rebellion. You hated how faith often came without explanations, leaving you feeling hollow when you sought deeper understanding.

You tried to keep up appearances for the sisters and your peers. You still bowed your head during prayers and recited the hymns when required, but you were slipping. You no longer volunteered to lead Bible studies, you didn’t initiate faith talks like you once had, and you even forgot to pray before meals.

No one noticed at first, but you did. You felt it in every small way you disconnected from the person you used to be.

One Thursday morning, you woke up to your girlfriend, gently rubbing your shoulder. “Hey sleepyhead,” she cooed. “It’s almost 8 am.”

With those words, you jolted awake; you’ve forgotten about leading early morning prayer. The dorm heads usually took turns leading the morning prayer or liturgy hours with any other student awake and willing to join as early as 6 am. Thursdays were your assigned days but you might have chatted too far into the early morning with Alexia that you failed to wake up in time.

“Oh my god,” you gasped.

“Hey, hey, relax,” Alexia soothed, placing a calming hand on your arm. “It’s all good. I woke up in time and covered for you. Told the nuns you had a migraine.”

Relief washed over you, and you flung your arms around her. “Alexia, what would I do without you?” you whispered, gratitude spilling over.

Alexia smiled softly, her hand gently rubbing your back. “You’d be fine, monjita. But I gotta say…” she pulled back to look at you, her expression growing serious. “You haven’t seemed like your usual, um, perfectionist self this past week. Don’t get me wrong… I love how laid-back you’ve been lately. It’s nice to see you relax. But…”

She tilted her head, her warm hazel eyes searching yours. “I feel like something’s off. Is there something wrong?”

You hesitated, biting your lips and unconsciously pulling your blankets up. “Since the trip…” you started. “I just have been feeling… restrained.”

Alexia smiled knowingly, reaching over to tuck stray hairs behind your ear. “Monjita, I get it.” She comforted you. “I’ve been feeling the same thing lately. Ever since our trip, I just miss living a normal life. Even if it did suck seeing girls flirt with you, I felt like that was the sense of normalcy I’ve missed.”

You chuckled a bit before sighing. “I’m just itching to get back out.”

She hummed. “I get it, angel.” She responded. “Only a few more months and we get to leave this place.”

Her words warmed your heart. “Just have to push through the next months,” you repeat to yourself.

You would have thought that you would have learned from the morning prayer incident.

But this time, the slip-up was bigger. Much bigger.

You’d completely forgotten to prepare the Advent wreath —something you usually planned weeks in advance. Every year, you meticulously decorated it with ribbons, ornaments, and delicate details, knowing how much everyone looked forward to seeing it displayed at Mass. But with how distracted and out of sorts you’d been lately, the task had completely slipped your mind.

You were only reminded when a girl from Ingrid’s dorm asked if you needed more ribbons, offering up her own. She said she didn’t know if you’d still need them, given that you may have been already done with it since the wreath was due that afternoon.

You’ve fallen into a panic, fishing out random stuff from the common room closet and your own craft box. You haphazardly glue-gunned and pieced together a wreath that looked decent for a casual advent display for a small classroom but yours was often used for the mass which all the students attended. It was the kind everyone looked forward to seeing by the altar. Fantastic wreaths were kinda what you’ve become known for in Santa Eulalia.

And now, here it was – your drab, uninspired, and lacklustre wreath.

The nuns’ reactions confirmed your worst fears. As they inspected the wreath, their raised eyebrows and soft but unmistakable tuts cut through you like a blade. Their disappointment was palpable.

You didn’t even try to make an excuse for the subpar quality of it. You just stood there and took in their judgement. The nuns said nothing more than a curt “thanks” with a biting tone.

As you turned to leave, Sister Catherine called out to you. Her voice was gentle, her expression warm — a stark contrast to the others.

“Dear,” she began, her tone kind but measured, “since Edith took over in the library, the books have fallen into a bit of disarray.” She clasped her hands together and asked carefully, “Would you be so kind as to help rearrange them back into proper order? It might take a while though.”

Her smile was warm, but you could feel the weight of the other nuns’ gazes on you, testing your response. After the wreath fiasco, there was no room for refusal even if the last thing you wanted to do was spend an entire day in the library. You acquiesced, forcing a nod and a polite smile.

Sister Catherine thanked you warmly before you walked out, feeling a weight on your shoulders. You were slowly losing care or appreciation about the whole tradition that came with your religion this time of year; it was slowly appearing to you as some cover-up of all the bigotry the beliefs held. But, it still sucked that you let the sisters down.

You were always their favorite, and how couldn’t you be their favorite?

You were on top of things, leading prayers and organizing novenas, even initiating decorating advent wreaths and nativity scenes. You didn’t realize that all your years in the school – working your ass off – was just you eventually setting yourself up for failure.

And you just hated the judgement that came with it, the way the nuns looked at you with such disapproval, as though one mistake had unraveled everything you’d worked for.

They were supposed to be compassionate, understanding, forgiving. But too often, they were rigid and demanding. They expected perfection from you, and the moment you fell short, they were quick to remind you of it.

And the worst part? They didn’t even need to say much. A glance, a raised brow, a click of the tongue — they knew how to make you feel small without lifting a finger.

You sighed deeply, dragging your feet as you walked away. As much as you wanted to rant about the unfairness of it all, you couldn’t escape the gnawing guilt inside. You’d messed up. You hadn’t been yourself lately, and it was starting to show in ways you couldn’t ignore.

If you didn’t want your cracks to show, you had to pull things together and at least show them you’re good enough – at least, good enough to graduate and leave this academy, once and for all.

Even if your cage was small, the last thing you wanted to do was peck at the hand that kept you in that cage because you knew that in just a few months, you’d be set free.

Alexia was quick to agree to help out in the library. Football training was on hold now that the weather was getting colder and exam season was approaching. It was sad not being able to play her favorite sport but it also meant spending more time with you, even if you two had to endure dusty books and the menial task of organizing them until the late hours of the night.

You got through the day with your new favorite pastime – roleplay.

Often, Alexia and you would play pretend, mostly acting as if you were a normal couple that lived outside the walls. You two were starting to get so good at it that you might as well start an improv club.

Cleaning up the dishes after lunch? A couple bickering about when they should buy a dishwasher. Polishing the steel vessels used in mass? An aristocratic couple forced to polish their gold-encrusted silverware after they sacked their maids. And now, in the library, still organizing in the late hours, Alexia decided it would be funny practicing pick-up lines on you as if you were meeting for the first time.

“Okay, okay, listen to this one,” Alexia said, placing a book on a shelf you’d struggled to reach earlier. She turned toward you with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Hey, girl, are you a library book?”

You chuckled. “No.”

Alexia rolled her eyes dramatically, groaning as if you’d ruined her performance. “Monjita, you’re supposed to ask why.”

Still laughing, you raised your hands in mock surrender. “Alright, fine. Why am I a book?"

The smile returned on Alexia’s face as she put one hand against the bookshelf, trying to be all suave. “Cause I wanna check you out.”

You let out a sigh, shaking your head at her cheesy delivery. “Even I—your girlfriend — wouldn’t swoon for that.”

“Ouch, monjita!” Alexia groaned, clutching her chest as if wounded. “Okay, okay, let me redeem myself. I’ve got a better one.”

You crossed your arms, raising a skeptical brow. “Alright, impress me.”

She brushed her hair back in an exaggerated motion. “Hey, baby girl, are you a book?”

You squinted, already suspicious. “This is the same one!”

“It’s not, I swear!” she insisted, a playful gleam in her eyes. She looked at you with mock sincerity, as if pleading for one last chance. You sighed, indulging her.

“Alright, fine. Why am I a book?”

Alexia smirked, leaning closer. “Because I just wanna pick you up and spread you wide open.”

Your jaw dropped as your cheeks flushed red. With a gasp, you immediately grabbed the nearest book and smacked her lightly on the arm. Alexia burst into laughter, clutching her sides as she leaned against the shelf for support.

“You’re so disgusting,” you exclaimed. “You should be glad I like you.”

Alexia chuckled, pleased with your response. “If you think I’m so bad at it, why don’t you give it a try.”

You hummed, taking a moment to think as you stacked the books in proper order. You bit your lip and turned to your girlfriend. “Uh, I don’t know,” you said. “I don’t have any pick-up line skills like you do.”

Alexia smiled. “It doesn’t have to be witty or joke-y.” She explained. “Just try flirting with me like we’re meeting for the first time.”

You sighed, pausing. “Uh, hey,” your eyes nervously flickered. “I like your necklace?”

Alexia looked down on her necklace as if surprised it was there. “Oh wow, thanks!” She feigned sincerity, looking up to you. “Yours isn’t so bad either.”

You chuckled, shaking your head, ready to drop the act until Alexia moved closer and touched your necklace. “Our necklaces are pairs so does that make us a pair?” She gushed dramatically.

“Hmm, I guess,” you said, returning to the task of stacking books.

Alexia sighed. “Well, I guess that means we’re soulmates then. Destined to meet each other,” she said as if she were some actress on a stage. “That means we have to kiss now.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes at her. “It might just mean we bought it from the same place?”

Alexia wouldn’t drop the act. She gently took your face, making you look at her. “No, it means we have to kiss.” She said softly with a more genuine tone this time. You smiled as you looked into her eyes, deciding a small kiss wouldn’t hurt considering that it was late into the night and the library was completely empty. You leaned in and gave your girlfriend a small, gentle kiss. You pulled away immediately, biting your lip.

“Hmm, I guess maybe we are soulmates, my darling necklace-partner.” You said in a soft yet joking tone. She smiled, not moving to lean back. You searched her eyes, hesitating for a moment but you couldn’t resist her.

You put down the book still in your hand and grabbed Alexia’s face, initiating a more intense kiss. Alexia didn’t expect you to kiss her so intensely; all she expected was another soft kiss but who was she to decline a make-out session with her beautiful girlfriend?

Your hands tangled into Alexia’s hair, deepening the kiss. You moaned silently as her hands moved to the small of your back. Even if you kissed Alexia every day, you still were always surprised every time by just how good she was at it. She knew how to tease you, make you moan, and leave you wanting for more with just her kiss.

Kissing Alexia always felt so freeing, so liberating.

“Oh my god.”

It was soft but it was loud enough for you two to hear and practically jump away from each other. You looked at the far end of the dim aisle you were tucked away in and saw the familiar sight of one of your peers - Anna.

She had a mouth to her hand, stunned by the sight. Soon, she started walking towards you two as you gulped and threw a nervous look at Alexia who seemed to share your anxiety.

“Oh my Lord, I can’t believe it.” The younger girl gasped as she realized that it was you and Alexia that she saw. “I… I heard rumors about Alexia… why she’s here but I would have never thought that you…”

Anna looked at you with shaking eyes and an intense look on her face. “A companion of fools suffers harm.”

“Huh?” Alexia whispered quietly in confusion but you got it immediately. It was the Bible verse you cited to her before.

“You told me that when I got here,” the young girl said, pointing an accusatory finger at you. “You told me to surround myself with good people, people that will make me better.”

You gulped but stayed still, not saying a word.

“And now,” she shifted her gaze to Alexia. “Look at you. You keep a dirty homosexual for company and now, you’re just like her.”

“Anna, it’s not…” Your voice came out weakly. “It isn’t what you think it is.”

She chuckled dryly. “Yeah? Are you gonna lie to me now? Tell me you weren’t just letting her stick her tongue in your mouth?” You were shocked by the sudden outrage coming from this girl. Just months ago, she was timid and shy but you figured that all the time she spent with the nuns may have influenced her, indoctrinating her.

“Sister Philomena was right,” Anna’s voice shook, confirming your thoughts and speculations. “If you walk this earth with fellow lambs, you will never get lost. If you walk with wolves, you get eaten.”

Alexia stepped forward. “What are you going to do about it? No one’s going to believe you.” She taunted back. “Y/N’s been here longer. She’s established her status in this place. They would take her word over yours.”

Anna frowned. “You seriously still believe that she...” she paused to look at you, “...is still loved and admired by the sisters? For the past few weeks, they’ve been whispering about her incompetence and how she’s been slipping up.”

“And besides, Alexia, maybe you're right and they might still like her but they certainly hate you.” She said. “You’re practically one foot out of the door in this institute. They won't hesitate to expel you.”

“Why?” You asked. “Why are you doing this?”

Anna stared at you like you had just said the most absurd, offensive thing imaginable. Her face twisted with disdain. “Because I love the Lord, and I live by His word,” she declared with fervor. “And when I see depravity — when I see sinners like you — I know it’s my duty to make things right.”

Her words struck you like a slap, leaving you momentarily frozen. Before you could even try to reason with her, Anna had turned on her heel, already running of to tattle the sisters.

“Anna, wait!” you called after her, stepping forward, desperation rising like a tidal wave in your chest. “Please!”

But she didn’t stop.

You felt your knees start to buckle, your body trembling as you were overcome with panic. Before you could collapse, Alexia was suddenly by your side, her strong arms wrapping around you to hold you upright.

“Monjita,” she murmured urgently, her voice low and firm, though you could hear the tremor of tension in it. “It’s going to be okay. We need to run away. Now.”

The tone of Alexia’s voice made you even more nervous. You tried to stop yourself from crying. “W-what?”

“Listen to me.” Alexia placed her hands firmly on your shoulders, forcing you to meet her gaze. Her tone was steady, but there was a sharp edge of urgency behind it. “The best option we have now is to leave. Tonight. Right now.”

“B-but it’s the middle of the night –”

“Please,” she begged. “Trust me.”

You swallowed before nodding, putting all your trust in Alexia even if the doubt never left your mind. “Okay.”

You both scurried to your dorm room. As soon as you got there, you opened your only duffel bag and filled it with only your jug of water, a few change of clothes, your wallet and your sketchbook. Alexia moved swiftly, taking everything she thought you two would need, thanking herself for saving enough money for you two to at least secure a train ticket to the nearest city.

She took your hand, slinging her bag on her shoulder. “Monjita, we need to go.”

You nodded and held on to her tightly before you two left your dorm room.

You nodded, gripping her hand tightly as she led you out of the dormitory.

The night air was cold and biting as you two hurried down the halls and across the field. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of the wind made your heart jump. You could barely hear Alexia’s breathing over the pounding of your own heart.

“Alexia,” you whispered, struggling to keep up with her determined pace. “What if they catch us?”

“They won’t,” she replied firmly, though her grip on your hand tightened. “Just keep moving.”

You looked back once more, nervous that you might catch a glimpse of them running after you two, but you kept running until you finally reached the gates, your breath coming in long gasps. Alexia fumbled with the latch, her fingers cold and trembling. With a faint metallic click, the gate creaked open, and the two of you slipped through, breaking into a run as soon as your feet hit the gravel road.

You two ran and ran. The train station was at least 20 minutes away and you knew there was no way that the nuns – those fragile, aged ladies – could ever catch up to the two of you.

“Stay close,” Alexia said as you finally covered a significant distance from the gates. Alexia breathed heavily, feeling the cold air nip at her skin and make it harder for her to breathe.

You nodded, even more winded than your girlfriend. “Do you think Anna told them?”

Alexia shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.” She sighed. “We’re out now. They can’t control us.”

A sigh of relief escaped your lips but then the worry lingered not far behind. “But what do we do now? Where do we go?”

“My parents,” she started. “We have to go to the city first since I don’t think our money could cover the cost to our province. I have a friend who works in the city and has a place there. We can call my parents up and ask them for some money so that we can take a train. They’ll help us.”

You nodded, trusting Alexia. You knew that at this point, she too was desperate.

Alexia had always talked about her parents and how loving they were. They only sent her to her grandparents once her father had fallen ill and her grandparents offered to take care of her, financially supporting her and housing her as she attended school. She put up with their religious bullshit, not wanting to worry her parents. She knew they had a lot going on already.

Though, at times, Alexia wished she complained sooner, and told them about how unbearable life was being forced to live by the Bible. But then again, that would have meant that she would never have met you.

You finally reached the train station, feeling a rush of relief through you. It was scary, not knowing what would happen next or even how your parents would react if they found out about you running off with a girl. But you figured that you’d rather free-fall into the unknown than willingly walk back into your own cage.

Alexia led the way to the ticket counter, her hand gripping yours tightly as if afraid to let go. At the booth, she leaned forward, pointing to a stop on the map. “Two tickets, please,” she said, her voice strained but steady.

The ticket agent nodded, starting to type.

For a moment, you began to relax. The station was quiet, almost empty, and the thought of being on a train heading somewhere — anywhere — was exhilarating. But then, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the station.

You looked over to the source of the sound and tugged at Alexia’s sleeves. She looked over and she gulped, looking at your eyes apologetically, as if she could have gotten you out of there faster.

The policemen approached, their heavy boots thudding against the tile. One of them, a stocky man with a clipboard in hand, stopped in front of you.

“Evening, ladies,” he said, flipping through the report. “Got a call from the nearby academy. Two students ran off with some… golden crucifixes?” His tone was dry, almost dismissive as if he didn’t believe it himself. “That wouldn’t happen to be you, would it?”

Alexia stood straighter, her voice firm. “No, officer, we didn’t steal anything.”

The cops looked at you two skeptically. “Right. Well, we don’t have the authority to search you here,” he said, his voice low and measured. “But we do need to escort you back to the school until we can get the proper paperwork sorted.”

Your voice quivered. “Please, officer, we were just leaving the school. We can show you our bags willingly just to show you we haven’t stolen anything. Please."

The tall officer glanced at his partner, who shrugged lazily. “Sorry, kid. Not how this works. We’ve got procedures.” He stepped closer, his tone hardening. “Now let’s go. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

Your heart sank as the gravity of the situation hit you. The station, once a beacon of freedom, now felt like a trap. You glanced at Alexia, whose jaw was clenched in frustration. Her hand squeezed yours, a silent attempt to reassure you, but you both knew the truth: your escape had been cut short.

It felt like a hunter’s arrow had struck your wings — wounding you, grounding you just when you’d thought you were about to soar. Nothing too fatal, just enough to wound a part of your wings, just enough to get you back into that cage.

The next events felt like a blur.

You held hands the entire way home and were only forced apart when Alexia was taken away by the nuns. You cried silently, clutching onto your jacket tightly as the nuns instructed you to head on to the other dorm building, to be watched over by another dorm head.

Luckily, it was Ingrid tasked to guard over you.

As soon as the door behind the two of you was shut, Ingrid came running to you, holding you in her arms as you sobbed, heaving with cries of sadness. She tried to console you but even she didn’t know what she would do if she were in your position.

“It’s going to be alright, darling,” she said, trying to sound as convincing as she could, even if she didn’t believe herself. “Shhh, you’ll be okay.”

You knew it was far from over, with the worst yet to come. Yet, you stayed in Ingrid’s arms, wounded and helpless, knowing that not even god could free you now.

‎ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ACT VI. Falling, Never to Fly Again

It was 5 am when you were tapped awake by Ingrid. It didn’t take too much to wake you; you were barely asleep. Ingrid just nodded at you, giving you an affirmative look as she was not able to say anything without bringing suspicion to herself.

As you stood, you immediately noticed several sisters in Ingrid’s dorm room, standing tall as they looked at you with judgment in their eyes. Even the warm and energetic Sister Catherine avoided your sight, shaking her head as you passed her.

They kept a close distance behind you and Ingrid as Ingrid led you to Sister Philomena’s office. A flashback of the last time Ingrid led you to the Sister Superior’s office flashed through your mind but this time, it felt worse. It was more silent and a lot colder. Ingrid couldn’t calm you down with her words or even hold your hand in solidarity as the nuns kept a watchful eye on both of you.

You didn’t know what to expect. You’ve spent the past hours thinking up the most doomed scenarios in your head and yet you still weren’t sure what you would face.

The door creaked open, revealing Sister Philomena seated in her high-backed chair, her face contorted into a mask of disapproval. Her piercing gaze bore into you, and you felt your breath hitch as the heavy atmosphere of the room settled over you. Your eyes darted around, desperate to find Alexia, but she was nowhere in sight.

“She’s not here,” Sister Philomena said sharply, answering your unspoken question. Her tone was calm, yet laced with venom. She motioned with a flick of her hand, and Ingrid hesitated before shutting the door behind her. You caught one last glimpse of Ingrid’s concerned face before you were left alone with the Sister Superior and the other nuns standing behind you.

The room felt suffocating, the walls pressing in as you stepped forward, legs trembling. You stood before the massive wooden desk, and Sister Philomena slowly raised her eyes to meet yours. Her gaze was sharp and unwavering, filled with animosity and judgement.

“Of all the students that have walked these halls and worn the Institute’s badge,” she pointed at you. “You were the one I was certain would walk the right path.”

“We always knew you would do the right thing, say the right thing,” she continued, with a steady yet firm voice. “You were the one we trusted to uphold the values and walk the rightful path, the path towards God. You were the one I least expected to stray.”

Her finger pointed accusingly at you. “We always trusted you to do the right thing. To be the right thing. You were meant to be a shining example, a beacon of virtue, a reflection of the teachings of Christ Himself. And now…” Her voice faltered, though her anger did not. “Now you’ve let us down.”

You dropped your eyes to the floor, unable to withstand her withering glare. She continued, her voice rising slightly, her frustration palpable. “You have not only defied the rules of this institution, but you have defied God’s will. And for what? For her?”

You remained steady and unmoving, not wanting to say or do anything that could frustrate her even more. The sister clicked her tongue, pausing to see if you would speak up or react but you froze in your spot, not wanting to give her anything to work with.

The sister tapped her pen on the desk, the sharp sound filling the silent room. The clicking sound sent shivers down your spine as it cracked through the silence each time.

“I called your parents.”

Your head shot up, your heart sinking like a stone in water. The blood drained from your face as her words registered. Sister Philomena smirked at your reaction, though her eyes remained devoid of any warmth.

“Oh, don’t worry,” she said with a mocking tone. “I told them it wasn’t your fault.”

You parted your mouth to say something but nothing escaped. The sister hummed. “I told them you were simply kidnapped by her,” she added. “That you were an unwilling victim to her perversion.”

Your lips quivered at her words as tears welled up in your eyes as you shook your head. “No, sister, no…” you whispered, “that isn’t true…”

“Not true?” she interrupted, her voice cold and sharp. “So you mean to tell me you went willingly? That you abandoned the teachings of this sacred institution? That you love her?” She said the word with such disdain that it made you flinch.

Just as you were about to respond, she held up a hand.

“Choose your words carefully,” she warned, her tone grave. “I have told your parents what I believe to be the truth: that you are a victim of her depravity. A victim, mind you, who can still be saved by this Institution."

She paused. "But if you tell me now that I am mistaken — if you insist that you love her — then there will be no redemption for you here. We will have to resort to graver measures.”

"Graver measures?"

Her next words came slowly, deliberately. “I will have no choice but to send you to the cloistered nuns in La Cabrera,” she said as she stared at you. “There, within the silence of stone walls and under the rule of silence, isolation, and poverty, you may reflect on your sins and beg for your soul’s redemption. Perhaps, in time, your spirit can be salvaged.”

You tried to keep yourself together but both options felt like a trap. It was as if you were never meant for freedom, only being given a choice of what cage you would like to confine yourself in.

You shook your head as the tears continued to stream endlessly down your face. Sister Superior glared at you, utterly disgusted by what has become of you.

“You must decide now what the truth is,” she commanded, her words echoing through the suffocating room. “Admit that you were a victim — corrupted, deceived, and led astray by that lesbian — or accept your fate as we send you off to the cloistered sisters this very evening.”

A sob escaped your mouth as you fell to your knees, doubling over. The sisters behind tried to step closer to you, as if to help you up but the sister superior’s raised hand froze them in their tracks. Her eyes flicked toward them, sharp and unrelenting, giving them a silent instruction. They obeyed the unspoken command, retreating quietly. The sound of their hesitant shuffling and the click of the closing door left the room cloaked in unbearable silence, broken only by your wrenching sobs.

Sister Philomena did not speak. She did not comfort you. She waited. Her gaze bore into you, her lips pressed into a thin line as she impatiently watched you hunch over yourself on the floor. You couldn’t control yourself as you sobbed, your cries filling every corner of the room. The tension pressed down on you, suffocating, until finally, the sound of her hand slamming against the table shattered the air like a crack of thunder.

“Speak now,” she ordered, shouting out loud with a venomous voice. She had grown impatient with you. “Tell me what the truth is.”

You cried, blubbering and struggling to form words. You gasped for air as you tried to formulate a coherent sentence. Behind you, you could hear the sister’s hesitant shuffling as they entered back into the room. It was as if they wanted to step forward and console you but ultimately, no one came to comfort you.

You were put in an insanely difficult situation, forced to decide – deny the love that had changed your life, pretend it was a sin and that you were led astray, painting Alexia as some evil temptress but save yourself... or tell the truth, bare your soul, and end up locked up in some convent, significantly reducing your chances of seeing Alexia ever again.

Your thoughts were cut short by another thunderous sound of the sister’s hand on the table. “Speak.”

You tried to catch your breath and nodded, looking up to her from where you were kneeling. With a shaking voice, you said. “I was a victim.”

She nodded with a sharp look. “And what did she do to you?”

You felt your throat burn as you spoke up, trying to sound firm and honest, but ultimately failing as more tears fell from your eyes. “She corrupted me.”

The nun nodded. “And do you love her?”

Your breath caught. The question pierced through every defense you had left. Your entire body shook as you tried to find the strength to deny Alexia. “No, sister.”

She clicked her tongue. “You need to say it.”

“No, sister, I don’t lo–” your voice cracked as you tried to suppress the sobs.

You looked up and your eyes met Sister Philomena’s cold gaze, her face steady and emotionless. “Answer properly. Do you love her?”

A deep, shuddering breath as you mustered up all your energy. You met her eyes once more. “No, sister, I do not love her.”

A thick silence hung in the air, suffocating and heavy. Then Sister Philomena straightened, her voice cutting like a blade. “Good,” she said coldly, her words void of compassion. Her eyes shifted past you. “Hear that? She never loved you, Alexia. You were wrong.”

The floor seemed to drop out from under you. You spun around, your heart plummeting as you saw her. Alexia stood near the doorway with the other sisters, her shoulders hunched and her head bowed. Her hazel eyes glistened with tears as she stared at the ground, refusing to meet your gaze. Her hands were clenched into tight fists at her sides, her body trembling with the effort to hold herself together. The sisters had brought her into the room just as you denied your love.

You felt your heart pang as you heard her sniffle, trying so hard to hold back tears, and you just knew that at that moment, you broke her heart.

“Alexia,” you gasped, your voice breaking as you said. Just as you were about to reach for her and explain, Sister Ruth and Sister Jude led her out of the room as swiftly as they brought her in, holding her on either side as if she would try to escape.

“Alexia!” You shouted, ready to stand and run after her but Sister Catherine had rushed to you, holding you into a tight hug, pretending to console you just to hold you down in your spot.

As you watched the love of your life disappear before you, you fell limp into Sister Catherine’s arms, sobbing as you unraveled.

Birds have always lived with the weight of countless dangers — hunters, poachers, and predators lurking in the shadows. They lived in constant fear of arrows, weapons, and cruel men with intentions to clip their wings, to wound them and injure them so that they would never soar freely again.

For so long, you believed you were like a bird in a cage — isolated, trapped, and held back from flying. They told you the confinement was for your protection, that it shielded you from the dangers beyond the bars, that it kept you safe. You thought they kept you tethered because they feared the world would break you, because they refused to let you go.

But now, with the truth crashing over you, you understood.

They weren’t holding you back because you were a bird in confinement. They were drawing you back, tightening the strings not to restrain, but to use you. You were never the fragile bird. You were the arrow, pulled so tightly, so forcefully, meant to be launched. They held you back just to let you soar as a weapon, aimed at an innocent bird who once flew unburdened through the sky.

You were never the bird. You were never meant to be free. The only time you would ever feel the rush of the wind and get a taste of flying that high up in the sky was when you were launched, aimed to her heart. Suspended in the air together for one brief moment, before ultimately falling, never to fly again.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀previous chapter | epilogue

a/n: it's not over yet! this part is already pretty long at roughly 22k words. the epilogue is still being polished and i wanted you guys to already get to read this part already. reply if you wanna get tagged tag: @asodovlvlvpvp @snivells @jossyswift11 @my-favorite-sign-blog @therealgbaby @wosostan1675 @ohhazdamn

#woso x reader #the bird #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso fic #alexia putellas fluff #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagines #alexia putellas smut #alexia putellas fanfic

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ryes-brownies08 · 4 months ago

Text

brought the heat back [heeseung x male reader]

“You said it yourself, there’s obviously some shit going on between us, normal people don’t do the fucking stuff that we do. And even if you did that shit with others, would they do it the way I do?”

NSFW - If you're a minor, i literally do not care. Just dont let ur mom catch u or whatever 🤷‍♂️

Requested by: @jeongincity

˙⋆✮ genre: SMUT ˙⋆✮ roles: top! mreader, bttm! heeseung ˙⋆✮ word count: 3k words ˙⋆✮ inspo: brought the heat back - enha

SYNOPSIS: When the new guy, Sunoo, decides to move into the neighbourhood, M/n takes it upon himself to help out where he can, helping him get used to the place and even unpack some boxes. M/n's friend, Heeseung, doesn't like that at all. He feels as though he was M/n's first friend and that Sunoo is just in the way, so he becomes needy and eventually gets a reaction from M/n. What will happen when Heeseung has a moment alone with M/n?

WARNINGS + TAGS: jealousy, rough sex, swearing, heeseung is rude to sunoo 😭, insensitive at times, kitchen counter sex, in-air sex, adult life, kissing, depictions of any irl character here does not reflect who they are irl this work is purely fictional, etc

"Right... there!" Sunoo groaned as he and M/n set down a particularly heavy box next to the couch of the developing living room. The two men let out an exasperated sigh, taking a moment to look back at their shared piece of work as Sunoo’s house began to finally become somewhat coherent and take shape as a house. "Well, that was the last one," cooed Sunoo. "Seems like we're done for the day huh?"

"Better be," M/n responded, arms sore. "It's already 5pm. You don't wanna be late." M/n smiled, exhaling a prolonged breath, showing that he wasn’t breathing whilst lifting the box.

“Shit, you’re right. When did I tell Sunghoon I’d be over?” Sunoo gasped, dusting his yellow plaid flannel and white t-shirt off, before moving to the thighs of his light blue jeans. He smelled faintly of cardboard and dust accumulation, but was probably gonna shower at Sunghoon’s. It was M/n’s idea, for Sunoo to rest up at Sunghoon’s already developed house so he could catch his breath and return after a few days to finish up the own house with M/n. M/n was actually mutuals with Sunoo cause of Sunghoon, and when he heard Sunoo was moving into the neighbourhood, he’d decided to help out.

“6 O’Clock” You responded. “You got time.”

“Oh, thank god.” Sunoo chuckled. “Seriously M/n, you carried. I’ve gotta get into working out like you.”

“C’mon, I got built, for like- what, only a year ago? And I’ve not hit the gym for three weeks.” M/n chuckled sheepishly. Last Friday, M/n’s abs were nowhere to be seen, so whenever he hit the gym for the next few days, he did ab targeted workouts until it hurt to laugh, and only then did they finally come back. A few years back, M/n was quite slender, and now, he was proud to have been on the built side rather than the skinny side.

“Shut up, you’ve got biceps. And a chest. It’s not the best, but it’s my goal.” Sunoo shrugged.

“Give yourself a few months, you’ll get there if you’re consistent.” M/n smiled at him.

“Thanks so much for today, M/n.” He leaned in for a hug, the both of them indifferent to the fact that he was probably getting dust all over M/n’s black jeans and navy Lana Del Rey graphic shirt. M/n reciprocated, and only then did he see Heeseung standing in the hallway, looking at the two with a hint of irritation.

He wore a grey ‘Nirvana’ graphic tee and black sweatpants, an orange zip-up hoodie tied around his waist, indicating that he’d been helping out in the house. M/n forgot Heeseung was even in the house with them, because he’d just been so odd nowadays. Always bickering with or being passive-aggressive towards him and primarily Sunoo, who didn’t mind of course, but it was still odd. Heeseung had been called a lot of things in his life; cocky, opinionated, flirtatious, horny, resolute, ambitious – but never rude. Even now, rude didn’t suit him and he was still helping out. But he’d unpack boxes, broom floors, or anything like that by himself, forlorn in another room.

After the hug, M/n gave Heeseung a nod, and Heeseung returned a lacklustre one back. Sunoo turned to look at who it was, and when he saw Heeseung, it was difficult to understand the look on his face. It was somewhere along the lines of diplomacy, with a lean towards a look of tolerance.

“Heeseung, we’re all done. Sunoo’s off to Sunghoon’s.” M/n said, his tone casual. M/n and Sunoo had the maturity to be positive around Heeseung, and sometimes managed to get a laugh out of him. It sometimes got a bit challenging especially because the ‘rude’ Heeseung wasn’t who M/n knew him to be.

“Who’s Sunghoon?” Heeseung asked, a bit short of interested.

“The friend whose house I said I was gonna crash at.” Sunoo nodded, smiling softly.

“Ah.” Heeseung nodded, coming closer to the two, but still kept a notable distance. “Well, that’s good for you, huh?” He asked, devoid of emotion.

“No, real. I’m ready to pass the fuck out.” Sunoo said, being polite despite Heeseung’s attitude. But he couldn’t keep the eye contact with Heeseung, so he looked at M/n instead. Noticing this, M/n intervened.

“Should we see you off?” M/n asked, and Sunoo and Heeseung nodded. Sunoo began to reach for the car keys in his bowl, which rested on the soon-to-be-filled-up TV table.

TIME SKIP...

Sunoo started his car as M/n and Heeseung stood on the sidewalk, the setting sun casting a balmy glow on them. With the rev of his small Toyota, Sunoo began to take off slowly, tires squelching against the stone floor as he looked to either side of the road, taking off once it was safe. M/n waved him off and sighed in accomplishment and fatigue. When he turned to his right, Heeseung was looking at his phone for what M/n hoped was only after Sunoo left. As Sunoo drove off into the unknowable distance, M/n spoke up.

“Are you staying at mine or…?” M/n asked. Heeseung lived right across, which is why M/n got him to help out with Sunoo. The two were always close even before Sunoo came, and even though they two were off nowadays, M/n still wanted him to try to be chill with him.

“Yeah, sure.” He responded casually. Heeseung always calmed down when Sunoo was gone. Come to think of it, even when helping set up his house, Heeseung acted different when Sunoo wasn’t nearby.

He’d act jealous, and the M/n and Heeseung would get caught in weird situations. Once, Heeseung was sitting on the kitchen slab while Sunoo needed to use the bathroom, and pulled M/n close between his legs, telling him to focus more on him. Another time, he pulled M/n to the bathroom, and pushed him against the wall, telling M/n that he wanted him to get a grip.

He’d also position himself suggestively in front of M/n whenever he was nearby, making advances when Sunoo was gone, then randomly distancing. M/n wasn’t sure about a lot of it. So when the two entered the house, and Heeseung was more disinterested in M/n than usual, M/n decided to speak up about it.

“Okay, Heeseung-” Before M/n could finish, Heeseung interrupted.

“What?” He asked indignantly. M/n didn’t like that at all. It felt pejorative and uncalled for. Heeseung walked to the kitchen without a single worry in the world, scrolling uninterestedly on his phone. It only served to heighten how incredulous M/n felt.

“Okay, this is how you feel? Explain this shit.” M/n didn’t mean to transcend into a heated argument just yet, but Heeseung was making it very difficult to remain composed, and M/n wasn’t one to succumb to someone just cause they were a bit masculine – he wasn’t overtly feminine himself. “Why are you being so pissy to Sunoo? Don’t you like helping people out? Fuck, every time you help me out it really makes you feel like the man.”

“M/n, can you get off my dick, for fucks sake?” He responded. Now, M/n wasn’t that kind of person, but sometimes Heeseung just argued like a man. And not in a good way. He and M/n both were more masculine then feminine, albeit a good blend of both, but Heeseung argued like a frat boy. That’s where his masculinity was quite prominent. M/n hated it.

“Rich coming from you, isn’t it?” M/n asked, snatching Heeseung’s phone and sliding over to the far side of the kitchen slab. Heeseung was pressed up against the slab facing M/n, and even though he was looking down on him due to the slight height difference, M/n never wavered. “What’s the random shit you’ve been pulling- the secret hookups basically? Now, I’ll be honest, I knew there was something going on between us, but- hello? Whiplash? One second you’re being a dick, the next, you’re a pair of jeans away from mine?”

“Okay, and?” M/n hated that phrase; it was stupid no matter who said it, but it always won. “You’re the one being a dickrider for Sunoo’s little gay ass.”

“Yeah, and you’re bi, so Sunoo could argue you can’t pick a side.” M/n hissed, and Heeseung scoffed, moving closer to M/n in defiance.

“Look at you, you care about Sunoo more than you do about me. You know that he’s nothing like me, don’t you?” Heeseung growled.

“I don’t care about him more than- what? There’s no hierarchy of friends, Heeseung. We’ve known each other long enough to know that we don’t fuck with that. You think me helping out my mutuals changes my liking for you?” M/n spat back.

“You sure act like it. I did that ‘weird’ shit to show you I’m better.”

“Heeseung, listen to yourself. I don’t even know Sunoo that well, fuck do you mean who’s better? Why are you being so needy?” M/n said, and he ended up finding the exact word for it. Heeseung was being needy. “What, are you fucking jealous?”

“Yes, I’m fucking jealous!” Heeseung barked, and M/n had to bite down a flinch, given how he responded without a single second to spare.

“You said it yourself, there’s obviously some shit going on between us, normal people don’t do the fucking stuff that we do.” Heeseung hissed. Truly, M/n and Heeseung had done things that friends wouldn’t usually do. They had made out when they were drunk, and touched each other pretty suggestively in the past, but thought nothing of it; they were more crude than most friends, so they chalked it up as a side effect of their personalities.

“And even if you did that shit with others, would they do it the way I do?” Heeseung asked, voice dropping an octave, his body closing the gap between him and M/n. M/n didn’t stop him, given the tension. This is what Heeseung would do each time.

He brought the heat back, yet again. And this time, M/n couldn’t put out the flame in time. But secretly, he never wanted to.

“What are you trying to say, Heeseung?” M/n asked, his voice a little hoarse.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Heeseung responded, the developing blush becoming notable through his pale skin. “I want you to fuck me. I’ve wanted you to fuck me all this time. You were just too slow to get it.”

“Careful,” M/n responded, his hands slithering towards Heeseung’s ass. “Slow isn’t the word I’d be using in a minute if I was you.”

Heeseung moaned softly, biting his lip as M/n reached to cup his lean ass, enjoying how perfectly it fit in his hands. “Hmph. You make me so touch deprived that I don’t even believe you.”

“You’re gonna regret saying that. You’d better take it like the man you’re trying so hard to be with all this talk.” M/n smirked. It was arousing to M/n that someone who seemed so dominant would consider being submissive. M/n expected that when they’d try something intimate, Heeseung would be the more dominant one. But M/n didn’t hate this at all. Rather, he’d savour it.

“Getting tense, M/n?” Heeseung asked, seeing the roles reversed and M/n whinging now. “Same goes for you; you’ve gotta fuck me like a man.”

“Bet.” M/n breathed out, longing for their upcoming tryst.

Without another word, they began to make out passionately, M/n’s jeans feeling tighter around his crotch as he grew erect. His hands travelled over Heeseung’s small ass, whispering against the sweatpants as they glided smoothly over it, giving it a firm squeeze. M/n wasn’t gonna end it there, though. He was gonna teach Heeseung a lesson.

M/n began to kiss more roughly, his tongue invading Heeseung’s mouth, as he pushed him closer towards the counter, forcing Heeseung to sit on it. Heeseung became out of breath, gasping and moaning into M/n’s lips. His eyebrows were knitted tightly in arousal and the need for air as his eyes were jammed shut. Lucky for M/n, he took a big breath beforehand. Heeseung started to see what M/n was doing, and how rough he was getting.

M/n occasionally took detours to Heeseung’s neck or collarbone, leaving mulberry marks of lust on his body. He slowly began to remove Heeseung’s T-shirt, exposing a body that was well built, with an outline of abs and developed pecs. As M/n sucked on his skin and nipples, Heeseung began letting out whiny, desperate moans.

After leaving bite-marks and hickeys all over his peer, M/n began to unbutton his own pants, letting them hang below his slender bum as he began to take out his cock from his underwear. Heeseung bit his lips, legs spread open as his own bulge became increasingly apparent through the outline of his sweatpants under the bright kitchen light.

“Bend over the counter.” M/n instructed, and Heeseung smirked as he dismounted the counter and leaned forward, leaving a bit of space between his crotch and the slab, feeling as M/n loosened the knot of his sweatpants from behind. Heeseung shuddered, the only clothes on him being the pants that fell to his ankles, whilst M/n’s still had his jeans hanging just below his ass.

Heeseung left no room for hesitation as he bent over, arching his back, his ass stretched mesmerizingly taut as M/n's dick sprung alive.

Without warning, M/n inserted his entire length right into Heeseung, thrusting with a brutal slam. The wet sound of skin slapping and squelching filled up the kitchen as Heeseung let out an erotic yelp, eyes widening in surprise at the sensation. The feeling of M/n’s raw, pumping meat, fiercely coursing through Heeseung’s ass even with the resistance of his tight walls allowed the two to be consumed by lust.

That’s when Heeseung realised maybe he did sign up for more than he asked, but nevertheless, thoroughly enjoyed it. The room was filled with Heeseung’s silky voice taking a seductively submissive turn as he moaned like M/n wanted him to.

“Fuck.. M/n..!” Heeseung gasped, mouth agape and eyes rolled back in pure ecstasy. Heeseung wasn’t able to finish the sentence, instead drooling and moaning amorously. “Don’t stop… p-please…!”

M/n chuckled at the sight, releasing a few aroused groans as he put his hand on the inside of Heeseung’s thigh, guiding it upwards so that his legs were spread wide, one of them being used to hold himself up, and the other one to his side, simply to arouse M/n.

M/n rubbed his thigh as he pumped deep into Heeseung, feeling a light tingle from what would have been a slight bit of hair. “Who’s on who’s dick now, huh?” M/n whispered to Heeseung, leaning over to meet Heeseung’s shoulderblade in a wet, sloppy kiss. Heeseung slightly turned his head to face M/n, his eyebrows raised and knitted closely together in a beautiful tide of desire.

“Fuck…” Heeseung managed to breathily chuckle at M/n’s comment, before yelping as M/n thrusted deeper and deeper, hitting his prostrate every now and then.

M/n watched Heeseung’s ass with every thrust and gave it a firm smack, causing Heeseung to let out another whiny moan.

“Such a good fucktoy.” M/n cooed, making Heeseung melt. “I love fucking your ass, baby.” He groaned, letting out a moan at the tightness of Heeseung.

Gradually, Heeseung began to release, shuddering with the intensity of his climax, eyes rolled back into his brain as he let out a whine of pleasure, cum sprinkling all over the slab and floor. But M/n wasn’t done.

M/n exited Heeseung with a wet pop, grabbed him and turned him so they faced each other, and re-inserted himself into Heeseung as the he wrapped his legs around M/n, his arms intertwined desperately on M/n’s neck.

“I’m not done just yet, baby.” M/n licked his lips, kissing Heeseung one last time and letting him catch a break before relentlessly pumping into him. As he started up again, Heeseung began to release a series of gradually more sirenic moans, parallelling the intestity of M/n’s thrusts. Eventually, as Heeseung bounced his cute little ass on M/n’s cock, M/n began to reach his climax, saving a few final, and brutal pumps into Heeseung to make this count.

“Fuck, Heeseung, I’m gonna cum..” M/n groaned.

“Me too… Ahh..!” Heeseung began to cry out, whining as he was relentlessly thrust into.

Eventually, with a few hardcore thrusts, and Heeseungs prepossessing whines, M/n released a huge load into Heeseung, the warm and sticky liquid filling him up. M/n laid him on his back on the kitchen counter again, and Heeseung could feel the stickiness of his previous release on the small of his back. As M/n pulled out, a wet trail of cum followed. The two kissed passionately once again.

“Jesus.” Heeseung breathed out, exasperated, causing the two to burst into laughter.

“How was it?” M/n asked, leaning over the counter to rest his chin on Heeseung’s chest.

“Fucking amazing.” Heeseung said, raising a hand and running it through M/n’s hair. The two boys chuckled a little, decompressing a little from the intense moment they just had.

The two sat in a comfortable silence as they caught their breath.

“Heeseung?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re not replaceable, you know?” M/n spoke, kissing his chest a bit.

Heeseung let out a small chuckle. He didn’t say it, putting on that same masculine facade, but it was clear he appreciated it. A lot, actually. M/n knew him well enough to understand that.

“We gotta clean this mess up.” M/n laughed.

“I know,” Heeseung whined, sitting up. “But can’t we just sit like this for a bit?”

M/n chuckled, looking at the man infront of him with amiableness. “Five minutes.”

Heeseung let out a chuckle. “Deal.” He responded.

The two put their heads together, foreheads resting on each other in a moment of shared warmth and resuscitation. After all, Sunoo was gonna be gone for a while.

Who knows if Heeseung would’ve brought the heat back in the coming days?

Heeseung, for one, was already thinking about it. And he wouldn’t have been wrong to think that M/n was willing to entertain the thought.

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brain4stew · 6 months ago

Note

Hiya!!!I was the one that requested cat reader,so sorry i didnt mention which ones i wanted!!!!-🪼 anon

Maybe all the forsaken killers(w/ mafioso if u want?) and chance and shedletsky?Tysm for responding:')))

Don’t be sorry, 🪼!! I probably should have specified it in my masters list, but I didn’t think of it. 😞

But anyway, I’ll see what I can do with your ask! 🫶🫶

(As the other posts; I do not entirely know the characters personalities and so, so they will probably, if not most likely be OOC!!)

That being said, headcanons/something under the cut!! ;

(Survivors first.)

(Chance)

• This guy… I have a feeling he’ll be quite a menace towards you.

• Don’t get me wrong, he’s probably just curious! (No he’s not, he finds you rather cute.)

• When you’re not in any rounds, he’ll practically drag you to the couch in the lobby, and cuddle with you. (He’ll annoy you also.)

• He likes hearing you purr, and likes feeling the vibrations from you. It strangely soothes him.

• He does play with your ears and your tail, just swat at his hands, and he’ll put his hands up in feign surrender. (Keep an eye on that bastard.)

• When you’re in a round, he’ll immediately go and find you. Flipping his trustworthy (not) coin in the process. (He believes you’re walking luck for some reason.)

• He annoys you even when you’re doing generators, to reduce the time of the round. He plays with your ears and tail still. (He gets hit by spikes from John Doe, due to him being distracted…)

• Overall, he likes, if not loves annoying you.

(Shedletsky)

• …He gives you fried chicken. STRAIGHT UP. You’re a cat, no? Take the offered fried chicken!

• He’s just strangely interested in HOW and WHY you’re a cat. But he doesn’t question it.

• He does question if you need actual cat food and items however… (You don’t.)

• He yaps to you. A lot. You don’t mind it though, at least you get to listen to something to cure your boredom in the lobby.

• He does pull you to the couch also, cuddling you, causing him to fall asleep. (He ate too much fried chicken, that the mf fell asleep! 😭) You don’t mind it, for you enjoy laying and sleeping on him. (His stomach to be precise.)

• In rounds, he goes to find you, to protect you when you’re doing generators. (He’s got a sword, so trust him!)

• He’s not that distracted by your appearance, sure he does take glances at you, your ears and tail, but that’s basically it.

• (He ended up getting killed by his own creation, 1x1x1x1… What a shame… But, you somehow survived!)

• Overall, he’s chill with you.

(Killers)

(Jason)

• Jason doesn’t see you much, as you are somehow always hidden in rounds, but that’s alright. He just needs to kill everyone else to see where you are.

• …He managed to get all of your teammates annoyed at him, due to his hitbox…

• You, you were just lying by a tree, did you take a nap??

• When Jason gets to you, he’s… Confused, to say the least.

• He doesn’t know what to do, does he just, let you live, or does he kill you and win for his mother?

• He let you live, as you woke up and practically tackled him and cuddled him, while somehow still asleep?? How.

• He’s confused by your appearance, but doesn’t question it. He does NOT talk, whatsoever, so…

• Overall, he’s chill with you too.

(C00lkidd, platonic)

• We’ll say that you were an emotional support cat for him, as he doesn’t understand his own strength, and hurts most other kids and people.

• 007n7 just, saw how you didn’t mind the bone crushing hug C00lkidd gave you, and just, decided to take you with them.

• C00lkidd loves you! You’re adorable, and he enjoys playing with you!

• You don’t mind whatever damage he does to you, as you know he’s just a kid, and doesn’t understand his own strength.

• Overall, not the best out of everyone, but, he’s somewhat chill.

(John Doe)

• John Doe is… Fascinated, interested and confused by you.

• He doesn’t understand much of affection, even though he has, or had a wife, but, he likes you, he guesses.

• He does want to pet you, but, with his appearance, he can’t, unless he hurts you.

• You just have to show him affection in another way! Just rub your head against his, and he’ll probably understand it!

• He’s confused by your ears and tail, but doesn’t question it, he finds it cute for some reason.

• He listens to you when you ramble on about whatever you did today, occasionally taking glances at how your ears twitch, and your tail flick.

• Overall, he’s also chill with you! He’s confused, yeah, but oh well!

(1x1x1x1)

• …He’s a prick, to say the least.

• He first saw you when he awoke from being created by Shedletsky. You were scratching the air at Shedletsky, as he annoyed you a bit too much.

• That’s how he knew he’d like you for some reason. But why he actually does like you? It’s because he teases you about you being a damn cat.

• You of course… Scratch him for it, but he just laughs it off, finding it amusing. A little cat like you, scratching him? Your scratches feel like tickles to him.

• He pokes your nose, ears and tail time from time, enjoying how annoyed you become at him for it.

• Overall? A prick towards you, with a hidden soft spot for you.

(Mafioso)

• He likes you. Quite literally. I mean, he has a liberal (bunny), so why wouldn’t he like a cat like you?

• Whenever you’re going to groom yourself, he’s magically nearby, and asks if you’ll let him brush your hair, and wash and clean your ears and tail.

• You get surprised time from time, but agree. (You end up drowsy afterwards, as he helps you.)

• He once found you and his bunny cuddled up together, and he secretly took a picture of it. (You both looked so adorable!!)

• He lets you sleep on his bed with him, cuddled up together. And when I tell you he’s so gentle with you when you’re asleep… It’s a stark contrast to how he is with people in debt.

• He sometimes throws his coat over you, which you almost flop down from. Causing him to snort a little at it.

• Overall? He can be very chill, but also a little prick sometimes.

#forsaken x reader #forsaken roblox x reader #roblox forsaken x reader #1x1x1x1 x reader #John Doe x reader #shedletsky x reader #chance x reader #Jason x reader #Mafioso x reader #C00lkidd x reader #dreamgame x reader #brain4stew/l i n’s work‼️

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luvv4maddie · 7 days ago

Text

Beach day,with a side of chaos.

| Lando Norris x Reader.

- pairing: Lando Norris x Fem!Reader - warnings: fluff a bunch of it,Lando being a menace,some sexual themes. - Summary: A calming beach day with your boyfriend after an eventful weekend of races..just a calm weekend? Turns into chaos as you forget how childish your boyfriend can be.

Note: This was an idea I got from my old account I never got to put out and I did kinda rush it! Some spelling may not be spelt right as I don’t re read.

Enjoyyy! And thank you all for the likes on my last post!!

——————————————

All you wanted to was relax. A nice weekend away from the Paddock,away from the track and loud shouts of the media. If you were tired you couldn’t imagine how tired Lando was but that never stopped him from causing trouble.

Which probably why you couldn’t get out of bed. That man had a death grip on you. holding you as you were his lifeline you pulled,push,smacking his bare chest. nothing.He wouldn’t budge.

“Lando! I know you’re awake!” Looking down at him,His arms flexing around your waist holding you down as he “acted” as if he was asleep but you saw his little smirk oh that smirk did something to you that curly hair all disheveled his muscles,his bare chest…and you could go on.

“I’m asleep” he simply mumbles into your neck leaving a soft peck on it.

“Didn’t know sleeping people talk and kiss with their eyes wide open!” You respond grabbing a pillow and hitting him with it.

“..you’ve wounded me” he says dramatically holding his chest finally freeing you.

“..Oh like your sooo hurt” you laugh mocking him

“Just say you don’t love me” he turns away holding in his laugh

“You think that low of me wow” you say a fake tone of hurt laced in your voice

“Hey! You can’t turn this on me-”

“I get it..” you respond acting hurt starting to walk away into the bathroom

“No! My love! I love you so much” Lando says springing up from the bed immediately getting up going after you

“Ha! Got you” rolling your eyes giggling

“Oh your so done for-” he shoots back

And before you can even think he’s already running after you as your sprint away but he quickly traps you in his arms picking you up and giving you bum a few smacks with a cheeky grin.

“Any plans for the day can wait I’ve got business to take care of here” He says flopping you back down onto the bed

“LANDO!”

———————————————

After a few of Lando messing around you finally convinced him to actually get up. You soon later met up with Max one of Lando best friend and his girlfriend of course your close friend Pietra.

Finally. At peace at a nice beach your one plan was to gossip with your friend get a nice tan in a new bikini you got and bask in the sun. You and Pietra quickly settled into chairs ready for a little gossip sesh.

While Lando and max little kids quickly discarded their shirts little kids and ran off into the water splashing one and another. But you wouldn’t doubt you definitely were checking Lando out the way the sun gleamed across his tan skin his messy wet hair,the faint scar on his nose..UGH.

“Hello? Are you even alive?” Pietra giggles

“Oh! Yeah sorry?” You say a faint blush appearing

“God you’re so whipped! The two of you it’s cute”

——————————————

You were comfortable. Gossiped under the warm Monaco sun perfect- Until strong arms quickly lifted you in a bridal style.

Lando.

“What are you- put me down!” You shout

“I’m sorry I didn’t hear you?” Lando shouts back at you a shit eating grin plastered on his face as you approached the sea the sounds of the waves crashing.

“Lando! Don’t you dare!!” Hitting his chest to get him to free you

“Still couldn’t hear you baby? One more time” he says his tone loud knowing exactly what he was doing

“Lando don’t u-” warning him

Before you could register you found yourself in the cold water your hair ruined after all the effort. Looking up at him seeing him laughing his ass off

“Sorry I just couldn’t hear you-”

“Now you will” you respond pulling him into the salty clear water as you laugh as he coughs up the salty water

He quickly pulls you into him your body’s pressed up against each other as he kisses the side of your head holding you close

“Still mad?”

“Don’t give me an another reason” you say leaning into him

“Sorry,sorry my love but that bikini- I needed an excuse to get my hands on you” he smirks that same gorgeous smirk

“Hey! There’s kids” you hit his arm

“Oh please!”

“I forgot. You act like one” you retort fighting back the smile

“Oh? Yeah well you love my childish behaviour” he winks kissing your neck

“Still-”

“You just wait till we get home” he says wiggling his eyes before you splash water at him

“Oh yeah?” You respond over the loud waves

“You just wait! I’ll show you what I can really do when I get home.” He splashes water back at you not giving you a chance to respond.

He’s lucky you’re so in love with him.

Very in love.

————————————————

Note: This was so much longer than I wanted it to be! I got so carried away and the started rushing. Again some spelling might be off.

CANT BELIEVE TWO POST IN THE SPAN OF A FEW DAYS WHO AM I…?

#lando fluff #lando norris #lando x y/n #lando x reader #lando norizz #oneshot #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #fluff #mclaren #f1 imagine #f1 fic #so cute #lando x you #lando fanfic

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13lov · 2 years ago

Text

tethered pt. 2 | jjk

✰ pairing. — emo!jk x reader

✰ genre. — early 2000s au, best friend's older brother, childhood friends to lovers, smut, light angst.

✰ word count. — 10k+

✰ warnings. — swearing, family issues, friendship betrayal, mention of drugs/alcohol, smut [ cunnilingus, rough sex, ...idk how else to describe it ] reader and jk are both 18+, minors dni.

✰ a/n. long awaited part 2! the amount of love i received from part one was overwhelming and it means to world to meet that so many people instantly fell in love with this couple. another part is already in the works!

✰ taglist. @ahgasegotarmy116 @hellbornsworld @kissyfacekoo @littlestarstinyseven @skzthinker @cuntessaiii @nikkiordonez12 @ilikekpop-c @busanbby-jjk @xjjk187 @aloverga @kookcobain @mzeji @bxcndd @hoseokteardrop @canyon-lwt @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @jksteponme @parkinglot-nights @chromekingkong @jk97bam [ if i didn't tag u it's because tumblr didn't allow me to! ]

part one | masterlist | ao3 | buy me a coffee?

“Did you seriously think I wouldn’t find out?” Somi is glaring daggers at you upon opening the front door, arms crossed across her chest as she eyes you. Her lips are twisted into a disgusted snarl, you’ve never seen her this upset before.

You swallow the lump in your throat, “Find out about what?”

She cocks her head to the side, squinting her eyes at you. “Don’t act like you don’t know.”

Fuck, you’re screwed. If there were a list of all the reasons why you shouldn’t have had sex with Jeon Jungkook, the simple fact of him being your best friend’s brother would be number one.

With closed eyes, you let out a relieved sigh. As much as you wanted to wait to tell Somi about hooking up with Jungkook, it’d be an enormous weight off your shoulders not having to hide it any longer. It’d only been a few days since it happened, but you really hate keeping secrets from her.

“How’d you find out?” You question, chewing on your bottom lip.

“My parents told me, duh.”

Holy crap, Jungkook told his parents the two of you had sex? Why the fuck would he do that?

“They did?” You ask, completely bewildered.

“Well, yeah!” Somi finally uncrosses her arms, demeanor completely changing as her gaze softens, “Why didn’t you tell me your sister got engaged?”

Thank God you didn’t elaborate any further.

“Oh! Because they probably aren’t gonna last.” You respond, stepping into the Jeon household once Somi allows you to enter. It’s been a few days since you’ve been here, mostly due to the fact that you were completely avoiding Jungkook.

The empty condom in his trash bin had been plaguing your mind nonstop, you could barely even sleep from how embarrassed you were. Why did he fake his orgasm? What if he didn't fake an orgasm and just shot a blank? Did you do something wrong? Was he not attracted to you? Why was the condom empty?

Seeing him in person would’ve only intensified the thoughts roaming in your head, so you avoided him at all costs up until now. You’d promised the Jeon siblings that you’d finally see Twilight with them and their friends despite not being able to function correctly around either of them.

Somi snickers, following you into the living room. “Ooh, that’s not nice.”

“It’s true, though,” you explain, “she’s still so young, only a few years older than your brother. I mean, can you picture Jungkook getting married in a few years?”

The regret from that question fills you almost immediately.

“Sure,” Somi responds, pausing to greet the eager doberman charging at her. “As long as he finds the right person. He’d get married in a heartbeat.”

You want to ask what Somi’s definition of “the perfect person” would be for Jungkook or the type of girl she’d be willing to set him up with. It’d probably be the unnamed, mysterious redhead you recently dreamed about curb stomping (yikes!).

You don’t respond to this, taking a seat on the sofa when the sudden shout of your name has you flinching. It’s Somi’s parents, excitedly greeting you with open arms as you politely stand to properly hug them. “I feel like it’s been so long since we’ve seen you! How’s your family? We just heard the news about your sister!” Mrs. Jeon ambushes you with questions, all while cradling your face.

“About how she’s making the biggest mistake of her life?” You half-joke.

Mrs. Jeon playfully waves a hand in your direction as she steps into the kitchen, her husband only a few feet behind. “Oh, don’t say that. I’m sure the two of them will be very happy together.” She turns to her husband, grabbing his hand, “I just can’t believe Imogen is getting married. I still remember when she first started high school.”

Mr. Jeon sighs in disbelief. “I know,” he mumbles, nodding at you. “You’re up next soon, huh?”

“Maybe she can marry Jungkook,” Mrs. Jeon comments, opening her fridge, “set him straight.”

“Gross, Mom. Don’t wish that on her.” Somi groans in disgust as she plops down next to you.

Well, that answers your previous question.

“We should probably get going, right? To make it in time for the trailers?” You ask.

“Yeah, we should.” Somi responds, tilting her head up towards the staircase, “Jungkook! Hurry up and come downstairs! We’re ready to go!”

“Gimmie a minute!” He shouts back, and a chill runs down your spine. It’s been too long since you’ve heard his voice. The last time you saw him, he was lying naked in his bed; you’re not sure how you’ll survive being around him all night knowing what your last encounter was like.

As promised, Jungkook is sliding down the staircase a minute later and nails the landing. He’s wearing a black Twilight shirt featuring the leading couple, black cargo pants, and, of course, black sneakers. He looks like his usual self until you take a closer look and notice the reddish-black eyeshadow that decorated his eyes. It wasn’t much, just enough to make his eyes pop, and it complimented him perfectly. A second later, you see the black nail polish neatly coated on his nails. You have to blink a few times to ensure this is real life and you’re not trapped in a wet dream.

He strolls into the kitchen, ignoring the stares from his parents before digging through the fridge. His mom clears her throat, crossing her arms at him.

“What?” He asks, retrieving a two-liter Mountain Dew bottle.

“Seriously, Jungkook? The makeup? The nail polish?” She questions, clearly frustrated.

Jungkook cocks his head, unscrewing the soda bottle’s lid. “What’s wrong with it? Somi’s wearing the same thing.”

“Son, you know that’s different.” His father interjects.

Jungkook takes a swig of the soda before responding. “Why? Because she’s a girl?”

“It’s not like that, hon. It’s just…we didn’t make a big deal of it when you first started the piercings, and the tattoos, and the hair dye, but this…it’s a little much. Don’t you think?” His mother asks.

You want to step in and remind his parents that Jungkook is old enough to make his own decisions and express himself as he pleases, but it’s not your place. Instead, you cheer silently when Somi surprisingly interrupts the discussion. “Did you guys seriously force him to come back home just to criticize how he presents himself, or would you rather have a peaceful summer?”

“We aren’t trying to criticize him, Somi. We’re just looking out for our child.” Mr. Jeon responds.

“It’s a special occasion, Dad. Is it bad that I wanted to look nice for—” Jungkook abruptly cuts himself short, quickly glancing in your direction before returning his attention to his parents. “...to go see Twilight with my friends?”

What was that about?

Silence passes, and the three stare at each other until Mrs. Jeon sighs defeatedly and says, “No, there’s nothing wrong with that, sweetheart. I hope you guys enjoy the movie.”

“We will,” Jungkook responds, closing the soda bottle lid and placing it back in the fridge. He heads for the front door, beckoning you and Somi to follow behind. He’s eager to leave the house, quickly swinging the front door open and jogging towards his car.

You and Somi say goodbye to her parents with a promise to be home by eleven before following in Jungkook’s footsteps, who already has the car running. As you wait for Somi to finish locking the front door, Jungkook rolls down his window and shouts, “Hurry up! Let’s go!”

“Will you calm down?!” Somi throws back, rolling her eyes as she finally removes the house key from the lock.

You follow her towards Jungkook’s car, sliding into the backseat as you pretend not to notice Jungkook watching you through the rearview mirror. He wants you to look at him, but you refuse, busying yourself by buckling your seatbelt and convincing Somi to do the same. Once Jungkook is convinced you’re not going to do so much as glance at him, he puts the car in drive and pulls into the road.

Somi talks your ear off in the backseat about whatever comes to mind while you keep your eyes on the window. It’s hard to not notice Jungkook glancing back at you through the mirror at every red light or stop sign, but you don’t dare meet his gaze.

The movie theater’s parking lot is crowded when you arrive; it takes Jungkook a few minutes to eventually locate a spot. A smile is plastered on his face as he parks the car, eager to see some of his closest friends after being separated for months. He informs you and Somi to disregard anything foolish he friends may say, claiming they arrived early to smoke behind the movie theater, so they’re more than likely too high to function properly.

Jungkook shrugs when Somi asks why people do that, shoving his hands into his pockets as the three of you approach the theater entrance. "Some people say it makes the movie experience better."

You want to ask Jungkook if he's ever been high, but you can barely even bring yourself to look in his direction, let alone ask him a question. So you're silent as the three of you enter the movie theater, instantly spotting Jungkook's bandmates in the far corner.

Well… Jungkook's bandmates and one other guest.

The bubbly redhead greets you guys first, running up to Jungkook with open arms as if they haven't seen each other in a million years. It makes you want to vomit.

You look away as they hug, directing your attention to the concession stand employee who had already been watching you. His name tag reads 'Beomgyu,' and he resembles a younger version of Jungkook, with the same dark hair and similar lip piercings. His eyes stay on you until a customer blocks your path, and you're back to watching Jungkook reunite with his friends.

"Hey, you were the one at that party, right? With Somi?" The redhead asks, squinting her eyes at you.

"Yeah." Is all you respond with, because why in God's name is this girl talking to you right now?

"It's nice to meet you. I'm Scar," she introduces herself, extending a hand for you to shake.

Somi interjects, grabbing ahold of your wrist while glaring at Scar. "Your name is Scarlett."

She drags you along to the ticket booth, mumbling about how she doesn't like nor trust Scar. When you ask for her reasoning, she responds with, "I don't need one. I just don't like her."

At least you're on the same page about that.

Still, you can't help but wonder why Somi has a distaste for Scar. You have your petty reasoning for disliking her, but Somi (more than likely) has better knowledge of Scar's personality, so whatever reasons she dislikes her could be legitimate.

You're thinking of this as Jungkook orders the tickets for everyone, asking the employee to give him a minute when the friend you recognize as Yugyeom starts tapping his shoulder. "We should go see Saw instead; it just came out."

Jungkook looks genuinely confused at the suggestion. "What? No, we came here to see Twilight."

"So?!" Jaebeom chimes in, eyes red as the devil, "Come on, dude, you've already seen Twilight. Don't you wanna see something new?"

"Fuck no, we're literally in the middle of buying the tickets." Jungkook reminds everyone.

"I kinda wanna see Saw, too."

"Same."

"Yeah, me too."

"I do, too."

Jungkook whips his head around at his sister, "What? Even you?"

Somi scoffs, "Well, yeah! Twilight just seems boring in comparison."

"Come on, guys," the employee interrupts, "you're holding up the line."

Jungkook turns towards you. "Do you still wanna see Twilight?"

Truthfully, you want to go home; but seeing how excited Jungkook was for the movie made you feel something, so you nod. He lets out a relieved sigh.

He moves out of the way to allow his friends to buy their tickets first, slipping his sister cash to pay for hers, which she initially rejects. "I don't need your money," she claims.

"Just take it, Somi. I brought it for you."

From what you can make out, it's enough to cover her ticket and grab something from the concession stand. The pair of siblings may bicker a lot, but it's nice to know Jungkook still looks out for his younger sister whenever he can.

Somi reluctantly accepts the money and purchases her ticket; you watch as Jungkook follows suit, ordering two tickets for Twilight and stopping you from opening your purse. "Don't worry about it."

"Oh, it's fine. I have enough." You reassure him.

Jungkook laughs to himself, "Why are the two of you like this?" He questions, fishing out crumpled dollar bills from his pocket and handing them to the cashier, who sighs in annoyance, straightening and inspecting each bill before placing it in his register.

You don't know why Jungkook insists on being so nice to you despite your persistence in not speaking to him. A part of you wonders if he thinks this is some kind of date now that the two of you will be separated from the group. It doesn't matter. You don't know why you're overthinking it.

Once all the tickets have been purchased, the seven of you head towards the concession stand. Somi debates pushing herself to the front of the long line, claiming that the theater should make accommodations for those whose movie is starting sooner. Or something like that, you can't really focus with the way Beomgyu is staring at you. You're used to guys always staring, but they tend to shyly look away upon making eye contact.

Beomgyu is quite the opposite, staring you down every chance he gets. Your skin feels hot, and you're suddenly anxious under his gaze.

When the group ahead of you has finished ordering and is heading off into their theater, you're sure to stick close to Jungkook as you approach the counter. Beomgyu eyes him over once before returning his gaze to you. "What can I get for you guys?"

Jungkook takes the liberty of ordering a large popcorn for the two of you to share and doesn't even get mad when you request a slushie instead of a fountain drink. He doesn't let you pay, swatting your hand away when you absentmindedly reach for your purse. "You seriously have to stop doing that." He mumbles, handing Beomgyu the cash.

Beomgyu quickly prepares the popcorn and Jungkook's drink but takes his time making your slushie. He's sure to fill it to the brim, and you're worried it may accidentally overflow and leave a sticky mess. "You didn't want candy or anything?" He questions, handing you your drink.

You shrug, "Maybe Twizzlers, but—"

Before you can finish, Beomgyu is reaching under the counter and sliding you a pack of Twizzlers. "On me."

"Oh, are you sure?" You ask, hesitant to accept the free candy.

Beomgyu sends Jungkook a cocky smirk before he responds, "Yeah, enjoy the movie."

You thank Beomgyu and pretend to not notice the death glares the two boys are sending one another before walking with Jungkook to your theater. "That guy was weird." He comments.

"Yeah." You agree, but it's definitely not true. Beomgyu was friendly and clearly interested in you, unlike Jungkook, who sent you nonstop, draining mixed signals. If his definition of weird is someone straightforward, then you should start going after weirdos.

Once you're settled in your seats in the back of the theater — per Jungkook's request — he clears his throat and says, "So, I tried messaging you on Facebook. Didn't get anything back."

"Oh, sorry. I haven't been using Facebook that much." You reply, hoping your lame excuse is believable enough.

He nods, eyes bouncing between you and the movie trailers playing in the background. "Yeah, I figured." He says. When you don't respond, he continues, "I would've asked Somi for your number, but I didn't want her to get suspicious or anything."

"That's smart." You admit, nodding in agreement.

"Are you okay?" Jungkook asks suddenly, his full attention to you.

You finally make eye contact, and the expression on his face makes your heart sink. He looks genuinely concerned and confused by your sudden coldness. You hate being so mean to him, but you're too embarrassed to explain the real reason why you've been avoiding him. So you nod and say, "Just a little tired."

It's clear he doesn't believe this; the same expression is still on his face as he refocuses on the movie trailers.

You hate how awkward it feels to be around him now. Never in a million years would you have guessed the two of you would end up like this. A week ago, you would've been overjoyed at the idea of being on a movie date with Jungkook, and now you're considering leaving early and catching a taxi home.

The two of you remain silent as the rest of the trailers play on, and Jungkook immediately sits up in his seat when the lights finally dim and the curtains are pulled back further. He's reticent throughout the movie, aside from a muffled chuckle occasionally; he even side-eyes anyone making too much noise.

You enjoy Twilight nonetheless, agreeing with Jungkook that you do, in fact, dress like Bella Swan from time to time. When he asks if you liked it as you're exiting the theater, you tell him it was very nice and that you hope there'll be another movie.

Jungkook smiles at this, tossing his empty cup in a nearby trash bin. "I'm sure there will be. Maybe they'll even cast you as Bella's stunt double since you already have the clothes."

"Shut up." You tease, and it feels nice to joke with him as usual. You may finally have the courage to tell Jungkook why you've been so distant these past few days.

Saw doesn't get out for another few minutes, so you're stuck waiting in the lobby for Somi and everyone else. Jungkook gestures towards the nearly empty slushie cup clutched in your hands, "You get free refills on that, I think."

You take his word, strolling over to the concession stand. Beomgyu spots you immediately and gestures for you to skip around the line. You shake your head, but he still beckons for you to come over. You feel bad, but the line has gotten longer since you were first here, and you really don't want to wait in a long line just for a refill.

"What flavor?" He asks once you've slid him your cup.

You tell him anything is fine and he gets to work, combining the cherry and blue raspberry flavors. "How was the movie?"

"It was good. The vampire stuff was cool."

"Have you seen Saw yet? It just came out."

"No, I haven't."

"It's so good; if you wanna give me your number, maybe we can see it together sometime."

What is it with guys offering to take you out to a movie they've already seen? You're not complaining; it's just odd.

Beomgyu is clearly interested in you and has offered to take you out. You'd be silly to pass up on this guy just because your current relationship with your longtime crush is at a standstill. So you accept, scribbling your phone number down on a napkin with your name underneath. He promises to call you once his shift ends and that he looks forward to seeing you.

When you turn to meet up with Jungkook, he's gone. You catch him storming out of the theater, hauling ass to his car.

You run to catch up to him, calling out his name and begging him to slow down.

When he finally does stop, there's a look on his face that you've never seen before. He gets angry all the time, but this was something completely different. "So you were just using me, huh?"

What? What is he talking about?

"Using you for what?"

"To lose your virginity. You just wanted to get it over with, right?" His voice is slightly hushed now but still loud enough for you to feel embarrassed about anyone passing through the parking lot.

"Jungkook, what are you talking about?"

"You used me to lose your virginity, so when you date other guys you can tell them you've had sex before. Is that what this is?"

This accusation hurts, considering that Jungkook was the only guy you've ever been interested in romantically and sexually. You don't know where this theory originated, but you don't like it.

Jungkook continues before you respond, "I tried reaching out and talking to you, and you just blew me off! And yet, here you are, giving your number to random guys! Am I not good enough for you?!"

"It's not like that, Jungkook!" You don't mean to raise your voice at him, but you can't help it. Both of your emotions were at an all-time high.

"Then what is it like?!"

Here goes nothing.

There are already tears forming as you go to explain yourself. "I didn't reach out to you because…because I was embarrassed."

"You were embarrassed to have sex with me?"

"No!" You yell in reassurance, "No, no, no. Of course not. I was embarrassed because I know you didn't finish. I just thought maybe I did something wrong or didn't do enough."

Jungkook quirks a brow at you, "What makes you think I didn't finish?"

You really hate that he's making you explain this. "I saw the condom afterwards; it was empty."

"You went digging in my trash can to find the condom?" Now he looks more disgusted than confused; this is going so horribly.

"No! I saw it when I went to get my phone off the charger."

Jungkook takes a minute to process everything, scratching his chin in deep thought. You can't tell what he's feeling, but he does look hurt. It makes you regret avoiding him in the first place.

"So, you were prepared to never talk to me again over an empty condom?" Despite his stern demeanor, he's clearly shaking as he questions you.

You want to say no, that it wasn't a case, but you can't bring yourself to lie to him again. So you say nothing. Jungkook nods at your lack of response before turning around and walking towards his car. You remain still, frozen in place, watching as he sits on the hood of his car and smokes a cigarette.

If it weren't for Somi finishing her movie within the next few minutes, you would've walked the entire way home.

This bitch is driving you crazy.

Your older sister, Imogen, is home for a few days to start her wedding preparations. The fake bridezilla persona she's putting on bothers you the most, bursting out in tears at the most inconvenient times or having a breakdown about selecting a theme. Deep down, she doesn't care about any of this bullshit; she's like you about parties or big events.

"This is literally the biggest day of my life, and you're being so fucking difficult." Imogen snarls at you, pouring herself a cup of coffee. You're sitting a few feet away on the kitchen counter, staring out the kitchen window. Despite Imogen's occasional yelling and snarky comments, all you can think of is Jungkook.

It's been an entire week since the movie theater incident. You haven't stopped by the Jeon household not once, telling Somi you fell ill and don't want to get her sick. It's another lame excuse, but she buys it, opting to talk to you on the phone daily until you recover.

You have yet to speak to Jungkook; it's not like you've tried. The idea of messaging him on Facebook and not receiving a response makes you anxious. It's hard to believe you subjected him to the same torture not long ago. It doesn't help that Scarlett is suddenly all over his page, commenting on nearly every one of his posts, writing on his wall, or tagging him in pictures. Your recurring dream of curb-stomping her is back in full force.

You sigh at your sister, "Whatever you say, Imogen."

She waves dismissively at you, "Please, don't even talk to me right now."

You hop off the counter in annoyance and stomp off towards the staircase, mumbling, "Fucking drama queen."

"Language." Your mom warns you, flipping through one of the several bridal magazines your sister has stacked on the coffee table.

Imogen scoffs, setting her mug on the counter. "I'm the drama queen? Whenever I talk about my wedding, you throw a fucking fit!"

"Why are you pretending to care about this stupid wedding and that stupid boy you barely even know?!" You shout back from the staircase.

"If my wedding is so stupid, then don't come!"

"I don't even want to go to your stupid wedding, with your stupid fiancé and your stupid red velvet cake that no one's going to fucking eat!"

This is probably the dumbest fight you've ever had.

Imogen doesn't respond to this, advised by your mother not to and to let you stomp up the stairs in a furious rage. You make a beeline straight to your desktop, waking up the computer with a mouse shake and entering your password.

Facebook is already open once you've signed in, Jungkook's page staring right back at you. You're ashamed to admit you'd been cyberstalking him, but you had no choice. Seeing him in person would've been too much, but you still want to ensure he's doing okay.

There's a new post up when you refresh the page; you chew on your bottom lip as you anxiously wait for it to finish loading.

It's a picture of his dirty Chuck Taylor's perched upon a wooden stool. You recognize the background immediately; he's in the treehouse in his backyard. You and Somi would spend hours up there as kids, giving each other manicures and exchanging secrets; now, you can barely look her in the eye without bursting out in tears. You hate how complicated things have become.

A light tap against your door has you swiveling around in your chair. It's Imogen, leaning against your doorframe with her arms crossed. "Who's that?"

"Somi's brother." You respond, scrolling to a photo that actually shows his face.

Imogen steps further into your bedroom, squinting her eyes at the computer screen. "Oh, yeah. Hasn't changed much, has he?" When you remain silent, she asks, "Would it be wrong of me to assume he's the real reason why you're so upset?"

You sigh, letting your shoulders drop. "You'd be very correct, actually."

She nods in understanding, sitting on the edge of your bed. "So, what's going on? You like him?"

"We kind of like each other, I guess." You mumble. Honestly, you're not quite sure how Jungkook feels about you at the moment.

"And Somi doesn't approve of it?"

You snort, "Somi doesn't know. There was nothing to tell her at first, but things have changed."

"Are you guys dating?"

"No. We actually haven't talked in a week. I may have hurt his feelings."

Imogen nods towards your desktop, “Where is he now?”

You shrug, “Home, I guess.”

She stands, stretching out her limbs. She glances around your room, locates a jacket dangling lifelessly from your doorknob, and tosses it to you. “Let’s go.”

Taking an impromptu trip to the Jeon household had you sweating. What if Jungkook doesn’t even want to see you? What if Somi catches you talking and asks what’s going on?

Each concern you raise is instantly shot down by Imogen, claiming you’re creating excuses to avoid seeing him, how you’re only imagining the worst possible scenarios. You appreciate her overwhelming support but can’t help the nervousness creeping through your body as her car approaches the Jeon household.

“Remember, be apologetic but not desperate,” Imogen informs you, putting her car in park in front of the house.

“I am desperate.” You remind her.

“Well, don’t let him see it. You got this.”

You thank your sister one last time for the advice before stepping out of her car. You’re careful to avoid being seen from windows as you make your way into the backyard; not entirely sure what you’d say if Somi were to catch you.

You scale the tree quickly, silently praying the old wooden steps are stable enough to hold your weight.

You sigh in relief once you’ve reached the top, only to groan at the sight of Scarlett sitting across from you. She looks up from her iPod with a bright smile, quickly pulling out her earbuds as you enter the treehouse. “Hey, stranger! Watcha doing here?”

Her enthusiasm really makes you sick. “Came to see Jungkook,” you pause to glance around the tiny, wooden deathtrap, “but he’s nowhere to be found.”

“He’ll be back soon; went to use the bathroom,” Scarlett informs you, running her hands through her hair. “So, you guys really like each other, huh?”

What? She knows about that?

“Jungkook told you?” You question, trying your best to appear unbothered. You’re unsure where she’s going with this, but you have no reason to trust her.

Scarlett nods, “We tell each other everything. So when he told me you guys weren’t talking, I may have devised a plan to help you come around. You do use Facebook, right?” She smirks

Holy shit, all the posts of them together were to make you feel jealous enough to have a conversation with him; and your sworn enemy was the mastermind behind it. It was all a ploy to get under your skin, and you fell right into the trap.

“You’re a stubborn little thing, though. Didn’t think it’d take you so long.” She comments, slipping her jacket on.

You shrug, “I didn’t think he’d want to talk to me.”

“Jungkook always wants to talk to you. I don’t mind it, though. You seem good for him.”

Aside from Somi, Scarlett is probably the last person you would’ve expected to be supportive of your relationship with Jungkook. So, to hear she’d been secretly rooting for you behind the scenes nearly gives you whiplash. You almost feel wrong about your dreams of shoving her face into the pavement.

You tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “So, nothing is going on between you guys?”

Scarlett grimaces as if you deeply offended her, “Of course not! Don’t get me wrong, he’s cute, but not my type. His sister is cute, though.”

Woah.

“Somi? Jeon Somi? You’re into her?” You ask, completely stunned.

“Hell, yes. Hey, do you think you could set us up? Jungkook would never.”

“You do know that Somi can’t stand you, right?”

Scarlett excitedly nods, “I know, it’s kind of a turn-on.”

You hold your hands out to stop her from elaborating any further. Scarlett has surprised you in more ways than one in less than five minutes. You’re sure any new information would’ve made your head explode.

“I’ll…try my best.” You promise; not quite sure how Somi would feel about the idea of Scarlett liking her.

“For what?” A voice interrupts, causing you and Scarlett to direct your attention to the treehouse’s entrance. And there he is, in all his gothic glory.

“Girl talk, none of your business,” Scarlett responds, making room for Jungkook to crawl in.

“Fine. You keep your secrets; I’ll keep mine.” Jungkook groans, sitting between the two of you.

“Will do. I’m outta here. Got a hot date with a box of hair dye. See you suckers later.” Scarlett waves goodbye as she exits the treehouse, reminding you of your promise before disappearing down the steps.

Jungkook clears his throat, sweeping his hair away from his eyes. "So—"

"I'm sorry," you cut him off, "I should've reached out and talked to you, but I was just too embarrassed and didn't know how to approach you about it. I really like you, and I wasn't using you to lose my virginity. I mean, you're the only person I've ever been interested in. So, again, I'm sorry."

He sighs, "I understand why you were embarrassed, but I promise it had nothing to do with you."

"Then what was it?"

Jungkook anxiously scratches the back of his head before he responds. "It's just that…sometimes…it takes me a little bit longer to, uh…to finish."

Oh.

"Is it because of your…size?" You can't help but wonder.

Jungkook snorts, "What, you think I'm big?"

"I'm out of here." You joke, faking as if you're about to leave.

"Wait, wait, wait." He stops you, "I was only kidding. I never really thought size played a factor in it, but every guy is different. But, still, that doesn't mean I didn't enjoy us having sex. I mean, you had already finished, and I didn't want to tire you out just for my sake."

Knowing he had a perfectly reasonable explanation makes you feel even worse about spending all that time avoiding him. You want to tell him you wouldn't mind him tiring you out, that the idea excites you, but you refrain.

A beat of silence passes, and you ask, "But, I'm sure if there's something that you're really into, then it wouldn't take as long for you to finish. Right?"

Jungkook nods, "I guess."

"Then, what is it? What are you into?"

He coughs, tips of his ears turning a light shade of pink. "Um…I guess I'm into…roughness?"

Ah.

"That's not a big deal. A lot of people are probably into that."

"I mean, it's fine either way, but I mostly prefer when girls are kinda rough with me. Fuck, this is embarrassing."

"It's not!" You reassure him, placing a gentle hand on his knee, "It's nothing to be embarrassed about. I appreciate you trusting me enough to tell me."

Jungkook stares at your hand on his knee before placing his own on top. You twist yours upwards and interlock your fingers, not missing the smile that forms on his face. His bangs have swept into his eyes again, and you use your free hand to move them out of the way. "It was my first time, too, by the way."

You snort, "You don't need to say that just to make me feel better."

"I'm serious," he continues, "I mean, I've gotten pretty handsy in the past, but nothing like what we did."

You shake your head, "I don't buy it. You seemed so experienced like you knew what you were doing."

Jungkook shrugs, "I mean, I'm not completely innocent. I may occasionally watch certain videos and read certain stories from time to time."

Porn and smut. Beautiful combination.

He shakes his head, "You still don't believe me; how come?"

You sigh, memories of the night before he left for college flashing in your mind. How you ran home in tears, how he only responded to Scar's comment on Somi's Facebook post. It almost hurts to think about. "The night before you left for school, there was an opened condom wrapper on your floor. I just figured…you know."

Jungkook nods at the memory. "I wasn't gonna go to the dorms the next day. I was planning on running away, that's why I gave you that bandana. After my parents helped bring my stuff to the dorms, I was gonna put everything in my car then take off."

You're having a hard time processing this information. Why would Jungkook plan on running away? What does this story have to do with the empty condom?

He continues, clutching your hand even tighter. "I only told a few people I was leaving, and there was this one girl who came over to say goodbye. She'd been really into me for a while and was heartbroken that I was leaving. We were about to hook up, hence the condom wrapper, but I couldn't do it."

"Why?" You question.

"Didn't feel right. I wasn't into her the same way she was into me. Just couldn't do it." He explains, eyes staring deep into yours. You believe him; you know he's being truthful.

"What made you decide to stay?" You ask.

"For Somi," he answers, "I couldn't just leave her like that. And for you, too."

Though you've felt it for many years, telling Jungkook you love him is too soon. But you want to, so very badly.

"I'm glad you decided to stay." Your voice is barely a whisper now as you try to stop yourself from tearing up.

He nods, "Me too."

You sit in comfortable silence for a minute, clutching each other's hands. You wish you could stay like this forever.

"I just realized you never told me if there's anything you're into." He points out.

You shrug, "Just you." And it's true: Jungkook is the only person you've ever been interested in. Everything he says and does is genuinely attractive to you.

He drops your hand gently, using it to tilt your head towards him, and he kisses you.

You're quick to cradle the back of his head as his hands snake around your waist, deepening the kiss. You move to straddle his lap, slowly pushing him onto his back. He grunts in surprise, breaking away from the kiss. "You—"

"Stop talking." You demand before your lips intertwine with his once again. With one hand on his chest, you reach to grab a fistful of his hair and tug lightly, earning a satisfied moan from him. You're not used to being rough with guys, but you're sure Jungkook enjoys it with the way his erection is already pressing up against your thigh.

Reluctantly, you pull away from him and sit up, staring at him sprawled underneath you in complete awe. "Alright, I'll message you my number so we can text. See you later."

"No! No, no, no. Please don't go." He pleads, holding you in place when you go to stand, "Just stay a little longer, please."

You smile down at him, fighting the urge to stay in the treehouse. "I can't. Imogen is waiting out front. We'll see each other soon, okay?" You promise, planting a kiss on his forehead.

Jungkook nods, fingers drumming against the floor as he watches you crawl out of the treehouse. "Don't be too surprised if I seem extra excited to see you next time." He calls after you.

"Trust me, I won't."

Jungkook is the first boy to ever sneak in through your bedroom window.

He carelessly tosses his backpack in first, cringing when it lands on your carpeted floor with a loud thud. Though you’ve assured him your parents are heavy sleepers, he’s still worried you’ll get in trouble if he makes too much noise and accidentally reveals himself. “Sorry,” he apologizes, wrist gripping your forearm as you help pull him in.

“It’s fine,” you whisper back, “they’re not gonna wake up.”

“Still,” he grunts, using his upper body strength to pull him further into your room. “Don’t want you getting in trouble.”

It’s a day after the treehouse incident; as promised, you sent Jungkook your number and spent all day texting back and forth. Despite not being big on texting, you admire how Jungkook likes to keep you updated on what he’s doing and how he checks up on you to ensure you’re okay.

“We’ll be fine, but just in case, I did make room for you in my closet in case you have to hide.” You inform him.

Jungkook stifles a laugh, “Good to know.” He settles himself on the edge of your bed, moving over once he realizes he’d sat on a pile of clothing. “Oh, were you about to shower?”

“I was,” you answer, moving the clothing over to your nightstand, “but I’ll wait until after you leave.”

He has to stop himself from making a joke about joining you in the shower. He nods, leaning down to drag his backpack towards him, “Guess what I got today.”

“What?” You question, legs folded underneath you as you sit beside him.

Jungkook slowly unzips his backpack, careful not to make too much noise before rummaging through it and clutching something in his hand. He momentarily turns his back towards you, clips something to his shirt, then turns back around.

There’s a name tag on his chest now with his name scribbled in black ink and a little star next to it. “A job?”

He nods, “At that music store, Spin City. Need to start saving up before classes start. Plus, I wanna take you out somewhere nice before summer’s over.”

You gulp, “Like, a date?”

“Yeah. I mean, unless… I don’t know. I just kinda figured…” He trails off, suddenly worried he may be scaring you off.

You grab ahold of his hand, “I know, and trust me, you’re perfect, and I want us to be together. But, the night we saw you at that party, I did ask Somi if she would be upset if I was into you. Surprisingly, she said she wouldn’t mind as long as I talked to her before making a move on you. And, well…”

“We made a move on each other without telling her,” Jungkook finishes for you.

You nod, “Exactly.”

He sighs, “So, I’m guessing that means you wanna wait before we make things official.”

“Yeah. No matter what, I still want to be with you. But it’d be best for all of us to get her on board with this first. Show her how much we truly care for each other, and make sure she’s okay with it. So she knows my relationship with you won’t affect our friendship, and vice versa.” You explain. Jungkook’s eyes never stray from yours, listening intently and nodding at everything you say.

“That’s fair,” he agrees, “It’s a good idea. Do you want me to talk to her? Or for us to talk to her together?”

You shake your head, “She’ll definitely freak out on you; it’s best if I do it alone first, then you talk to her afterward.”

Jungkook leans back against your bed, resting his head on your pillow. It’s funny how different your aesthetics are; he looks perfectly out of place, sprawled on your baby pink pillow surrounded by teddy bears. “When?”

“I dunno,” you respond, lowering yourself until your head rests comfortably on his bicep. “Doesn’t have to be right away. As long as it’s before we move into the dorms.”

“We shouldn’t wait too long, though. It’ll only make things worse.” Jungkook mumbles, pulling you closer to him.

“I know. I’ll have a talk with her soon, I promise.”

You interlock pinkies to solidify your promise and ease his nerves. You hadn’t realized how anxiety-inducing this was for Jungkook as well. The idea of Somi not approving of your relationship had him genuinely worried.

“But, you should know that no matter what—” he starts.

You cut him off, “I know.”

The hands that once purposely dumped slime in your hair are now tugging your panties down your legs.

“Can we try something?” Jungkook asks with a mumble against your lips, your soft blue underwear now clutched in the palm of his hand.

“Like what? I actually make you come for once?” You joke, earning a laugh from Jungkook.

“Don’t worry about me.” He presses another kiss against your lips, “You trust me?”

“Of course.” You respond, sitting up in Jungkook’s bed as he moves backward, never breaking eye contact with you. He pushes your skirt up slightly but pats your hand away when you go to remove it altogether.

“Leave it on.” He commands, bringing himself at face level with your cunt.

You’ve never felt this shy in your life, grateful your bunched-up skirt created the tiniest barrier between having Jungkook see you all flustered. Never had you been this intimate with a guy, especially not a guy you technically weren’t even dating.

His thumb is circling your clit before you have the time to protest, to tell him he doesn’t have to do this just for your sake, but the feeling of his fingers pressed against you has you at a loss for words.

“This okay?” He asks.

“Yeah.” You respond, tilting your head upwards to stare at the ceiling.

Before you know it, his middle and index fingers are pressed against your opening, eliciting a gasp from your lips. At your reaction, Jungkook slips his finger into your entrance, thumb still playing with your clit. He insists on being teasingly slow today, wanting to draw out every moment and observe your reaction.

He pumps his fingers in and out of you in a slow, consistent motion, an amused smirk on his lips when he hears your breathing become ragged. Abruptly, he slips his fingers out of you, moving your thighs to rest them atop his shoulders.

“Wait, you don’t have to—oh fuck.” You’re cut off by Jungkook pushing himself forward, placing a sudden kiss on your clit that has your hips jolting in the air. His hand grabs your waist and licks at your slit, keeping you in place as he gently returns your body to his mattress.

His growing erection is the last of his worries, all too focused on dragging his tongue across your cunt. He flattens his tongue, pulling the wetness upward until he’s circling your clit again. In search of something to grab onto, your hands grip the bed sheets until Jungkook reaches forward, moving your hand over to grip his hair.

His eyes are closed when you look down at him, and you swear you can hear him moan as he eats you out. You try your best to keep the noise down out of fear someone will hear, but you can’t help but yell out when he’s back to fingering you, all while circling your clit with his tongue.

Your grip on his hair tightens, pushing his face further into your pussy, and he lets out a satisfied groan. It’s embarrassing how quickly your orgasm approaches; everything with Jungkook is so intense. He knows this, eyes fluttering open to watch your expressions. Black eyeshadow is smeared across his eyelids as his eyes focus on your own, hands gripping your thighs as he tongue circles your clit.

His fingers are relentlessly pumping into your cunt now, contrasting against how teasingly slow his tongue is moving. He pulls his mouth away, lips glistening with your arousal, and asks, “You close?”

You don’t respond directly, but the grip you have on his hair gives him all the answers he needs before he’s diving back in. It doesn’t take much for you to come after that, a final kiss pressed on your clit, sending you over the edge and coating Jungkook’s fingers.

Jungkook doesn’t stop there, still continuing to lick and suck your clit until you’re begging him to stop from the overstimulation.

“Sorry.” He apologizes, planting a kiss on your inner thigh, “Was that good?”

“That was literally the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” You respond. Jungkook lets out a laugh as he crawls up next to you. “I should be upset with you, though.”

“What?” He questions, peppering your face with kisses, “Why’s that?”

“I came over to talk to your sister about us, and you distracted me.”

“How’d I do that?”

“Because! You came downstairs in your eyeshadow. Then you were all like, ‘Oh, hey. I cleaned my room; wanna check it out?’” You mimic a deep voice that sounds nothing like his.

“I apologize for putting on eyeshadow, bringing you to my room, and eating you out. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

“I guess.”

You both laugh at this as you move to pull your skirt down. “Hey, how’d you realize you like it when girls are rough with you?”

Jungkook shakes his head as the memory returns to him, a shy smile on his face as he glances over at you. “A couple years ago, I was picking on Somi for something. I don’t even remember why, but it got to the point where my parents were telling me to stop, and I wouldn’t. Then, you just started yelling at me out of nowhere, and I don’t know why, but it was the hottest thing ever. I was in awe. I really thought you were gonna slap me. Since then, it’s just been a turn-on of mine.”

“Wow. That’s actually kind of pathetic.” You tease.

He groans, “Please don’t say that. You’re gonna make me hard again.”

Laughter is shared between you once again before you lean your head down to rest on his chest, the sound of his steady heartbeat making you feel calm. A comfortable minute of silence passes before you have to address the unfortunate inevitable, “Somi should be here soon, right?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook mumbles, “within the next ten minutes.”

You sigh, “Next time I come over, I’ll have to tell her about us.”

The next time you stop by the Jeon household, Jungkook has you bent over in the backseat of his car.

His finger digs into your waist as his cock is plunging into you at full force, emptying all the thoughts from your brain. You still haven’t fully adjusted to his size, but you don’t care; the pain of being split open makes you come faster. It feels better.

Jungkook insisted on taking things slow, telling you that you’d need to adjust to his size, but the moment you sunk your dripping cunt onto him, he was under your spell.

Your body lunges forward with every rough stroke Jungkook gives you, hands buried in your hair as he pulls you up against his chest. His hand moves from your hair down to your neck, tilting your head back while applying the slightest bit of pressure against your throat. Your eyes close out of instinct as tears form in the corner of your eyes before trickling down your cheeks. He kisses them away one by one before settling his lips on your neck. You make a mental note to check yourself for hickeys afterward.

You’re coming around him before you realize it, body spasming as you grip the driver’s seat headrest. Jungkook shows no signs of stopping or slowing down; in fact, he’s sped up even faster since fucking you through your orgasm. He lets go of your neck to push down on your back, left hand gripping your waist while the right intertwines your fingers with his.

A few strokes later, he’s finally coming and jokes about showing you the used condom as confirmation.

You shake your head, gesturing for him to pass you the shorts he’d tossed in the front seat. “I can’t believe I let you trick me again.”

“What?!” He exclaims in utter shock, reaching in the front seat to grab your discarded clothing, “How exactly did I trick you?”

“I came over to talk to Somi, but then you were all like, ‘Hey, come look at my car; I just got it washed.’” You playfully roll your eyes, searching around the backseat for your underwear.

“Can I keep these?” He asks suddenly, the most nonchalant expression on his face as your panties dangle from his middle finger.

You scoff, reaching to snatch them from him, confused when he retracts his hand. “I think I will keep them until you talk to Somi. Since it was you who wanted to talk to her first.”

“Then, I guess I’ll get them back tomorrow because I’m definitely talking to her today.”

Except you don’t.

You spent the entire summer sneaking around with Jungkook and procrastinating about having that talk with Somi. It was anxiety-inducing, to say the least, and you had no idea how she’d react. You tell yourself she won’t be upset as long as you assure her your friendship won’t be affected by you dating her brother.

You’re scheduled to move into the dorms within a few weeks, so it’s best to sort things out now before you all live under the same roof, unable to avoid one another. Jungkook doesn’t seem nervous at all. In fact, he’d given you a pep-talk the day before you showed up at their home.

“She can’t stay mad forever.” He pointed out, eyes sealed shut as you do his eyeliner.

“I know,” you mumbled, adjusting yourself on his lap, “but that girl can hold a grudge.”

“Right, but this is you we’re talking about. You mean a lot to her, to both of us, actually.”

His words play in your mind as you enter the Jeon household, following Somi into the kitchen. “Baking something?” You ask, a sweet, decadent scent hitting your nose.

“Brownies for some stupid bake sale my parents are having. Help me clean up?” She asks, pouting her lips at you.

“Sure.” You agree, under the assumption that there wouldn’t be much to even clean up.

Boy, you were wrong. It’s like Somi used every dish in the house to make one sheet of brownies. There’s no backing out now; you already agreed to help, and it’d be best to stay on her good side for now.

She gets to work rinsing each dish before handing them to you to load the dishwasher, moving quickly to get everything done faster.

“What a beautiful friendship.” A familiar voice comments; you fight back a smile as Somi groans at her brother.

“You wouldn’t know; you don’t have any friends,” Somi responds, laughing at her words.

“Neither will you, soon,” Jungkook whispers back, groaning when you swat him in the chest. “Any brownie batter left?”

“None for you. Shouldn’t you be at work?” Somi asks, handing you another dish.

Somi takes a break from rinsing off the dishes to bicker with Jungkook for a minute. You tune out from the conversation, dipping your fingers into the leftover batter bowl and gathering the chocolate on your fingers.

“I’m leaving, I’m leaving,” Jungkook says. When Somi finally directs her attention elsewhere, Jungkook takes the opportunity to grab your wrist, bringing your fingers up to his lips before sucking the chocolate off them.

Your eyes practically bulged out of your head, nervously glancing behind you to ensure Somi hadn’t seen anything. You swat at Jungkook’s chest for the second time, and he laughs as if you’re being overly dramatic. It’s odd how surprisingly calm he is about everything. His demeanor would have worried you if you didn’t trust him so much.

Jungkook wipes the renaming bit of chocolate around his lips before mouthing ‘Good luck.’ You give him a nervous smile, watching as he slips past Somi and leaves out the front door. You get back to work, making small talk with Somi as you help her load the dishwasher.

It’s now or never.

“So,” you start, “we’re gonna be living together soon.”

Somi smiles, “Finally! God, I can’t wait to have some freedom. My stupid curfew is a major cock-block. Right when things are finally getting good on a date, I have to go back home. So fucking frustrating. There’s literally cobwebs in my vagina.”

You snort, loading the final dish into the washer. “Well, you won’t have that problem anymore.”

“I know. And maybe you’ll even find someone worthy even to date you.” Somi jokes, hopping on the kitchen counter.

“Uh, what if I already have found someone…worthy enough?” You question, pressing a few buttons to get the dishwasher going.

“As if.”

“Somi, I’m serious.”

She sighs, still not buying your confession. “Alright then, who is it?”

“...Your brother.”

A beat of silence passes, and then Somi doubles over in laughter, nearly slipping off the counter several times in seconds. It takes her a minute to catch her breath, clutching her collar for support as she regulates her breathing; even tears are forming in her eyes. “Holy fuck, can you imagine? You and my brother? Jesus Christ.”

“Look, there really isn’t an easy way to say this, but we really do like each other. We’ve been…together this whole summer. Well, not officially; I didn’t want to put a label on anything without talking to you about it first.” You finally confess. The weight on your shoulders doesn’t immediately drop as you expected; it’s like the load has gotten heavier.

Somi has a blank expression as she stares at you, eyes darting around the kitchen as she processes the information. “You’re serious?”

You nod.

She shakes her head, “What kind of friend are you?”

Fuck.

“Somi, please, let me—”

She cuts you off, hopping off the counter and inching towards you. “So, what? All this time, you were using me to get close to Jungkook? Out of every fucking guy on the planet?!”

“No! Of course not! Somi, I never even imagined myself in a relationship with him until this summer, I swear!” Your voice trembles as Somi approaches you. The two of you have never been in a physical fight before, but the expression on her face tells you there’s a first time for everything.

“Oh, really? You expect me to believe that, huh? So it’s just a coincidence that you guys suddenly got together right before we’re all gonna be living in the same building?”

“I know it doesn’t sound great, but—”

“I think you should go.” Somi cuts you off calmly, her sudden change in demeanor shocking you. A moment ago, she looked angry enough to hit you, but now, she seems a few seconds away from breaking down in tears.

You nod understandably, telling Somi to take all the time she needs and to call you when she’s ready to talk.

She doesn’t say a word as you exit her house, and you wonder if you’ve just lost the best friend you’ve ever had.

“I’ve never seen her this angry, Jungkook. I thought she was gonna hit me or something.” You groan, ear pressed up against your phone as you rant to Jungkook.

It’d been a few hours since you left Somi’s house; Jungkook had promised to call you during his break to hear how the conversation went. You’re still shaking as the memories flood you, how your best friend in the world accused you of using her. What a fucking joke.

“She’ll get over it, trust me. Y’know, before I called you, she spent five minutes yelling at me over the phone. Five fucking minutes, and I just took it. She’ll be fine.” He says, following up with a loud slurping noise that suggests Jungkook has chosen to have ramen for lunch.

It’s astonishing how calm he’s managed to stay this entire time.

You flip over on the couch, head resting on the armrest as you stare at the ceiling. “I just don’t wanna lose her. She’s a fireball, for sure, but she’s my fireball. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

“I just told you you’re not gonna be without her, okay?”

“...Okay.”

There’s a knock at your front door, most likely from the pizza delivery Jungkook had sent to your house.

“I gotta go. The food is here. Are you still stopping by after your shift?”

“Of course. You gonna be alright?”

“Yeah,” you stand, making your way to the front door. “I’ll save you some pizza.”

He chuckles at that, “You better. I’ll see you later, okay? I love you.”

He what?

“You what?” You pause, hand on the doorknob.

“I love you, and I’ll see you later.” He hangs up.

You don’t have time to process his words; the knocking at your front door happens again.

Twisting the knob, you’re met with Somi staring back at you. “Somi? What’re you—”

“I don’t care if you date Jungkook.” She claims, storming through your front door, “If you guys want to be together, then I’m not standing in the way. But I will not be your friend if you date him, so it’s either him or me.”

You follow Somi into your living room, your pulse quickening upon hearing her ultimatum. “Somi, that’s not—”

“Before you choose…as a girl, and as your friend, I have to be completely honest with you.” She sighs, fingers nervously raking through her hair as she sits on your couch. “I called Jungkook after you left, and he talked to me about you guys.”

You nod, taking a seat next to her. “Okay, and…?”

She sighs again, taking your hand in her own. “Everything he’s ever told you was a lie.”

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