Welcome to an updated directory of my works and WIPS. Everything will be updated every few months with new works and works in progress — from prompts to headcannons to socmeds.
Updated: 10/06/2026
Key:
❦: fluff
☾: angst
❀: headcannon
𖥔: preference
ᥬᩤ: drabble
꩜: reactions
⪩⪨: smau
𖧧: suggestive
✧: smut
☼: series
☆: completed
➷: WIP
✈︎: Do not take requests for them anymore
Okay, some house rules!
First things first, I primarily write reader inserts for black readers. I am a cisgender black woman, so I tend to write for black women unless requested otherwise. I am currently in the process of rewriting and improving old fics so my requests are currently closed.
Secondly, some things to note:
Use the ask box for requests, not the chat feature.
I don't mind people asking for a fic of a certain character, but please add some basis to it. Not just "please write for __". I have prompt lists (and working on a new one) if you want one of those.
I am chronically ill and disabled, and I am not always writing, but I will try to have stuff in my drafts or queue.
Do not send multiple requests for the same thing. I will ignore it otherwise, as it clogs my request box
I do not write for minors, unless in a platonic or motherly capacity.
Following the bullet point above, if I write a preference, headcannon or drabble for a group with minors (e.g. Cortis), I will not be including the minors
I write smut so MDNI
Lastly, these are my non-negotiables when it comes to things I DO NOT write:
Ageplay
Raceplay
Master/slave
Scat
Gore
Vore
Fisting
Pee (the action or consumption)
Incest/pseudo-cest (Caleb will not be written like the Infold myths of being a brother)
Body horror (in smut)
Mutilation (in smut)
Necrophilia
Prompts:
Prompt List One
Prompt List Two
Kpop:
ATEEZ
Tomorrow x Together
EXO
Seventeen
Zerobaseone
&TEAM
Ampers&one
Enhypen
Monsta X
Stray Kids
GOT7
P1Harmony
NCT (all subunits)
WayV
Riize
The Rose
Just B
The Boyz
Aespa
KHH:
DPR Ian (Christian Yu/ Yu Barom)
ONE (Jaewon)
Simon Dominic
Gray
Dean
Tabber
Jay Park
POP:
5 Seconds of Summer
The Vamps
Shawn Mendes
Omaha Boys
One Direction
Games:
Love and Deepspace
Balder's Gate
Resident Evil
MOVIES:
The Kissing Booth
HIM
The Maze Runner
MCU (Black Panther/Iron Man/Spiderman)
DCU
Descendants
Harry Potter
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
The Mortal Instruments
Power Rangers (2017)
Avatar
Eternals
Dune
Twilight
Star Wars
Percy Jackson
Fast and Furious
Dracula: A Love Story
TV SHOWS:
13 Reasons Why
Gotham
Hemlock Grove
Once Upon a Time
Altered Carbon
The Mandalorian
Stranger Things
Pretty Little Liars
Teen Wolf
Euphoria
Shadowhunters
Riverdale
The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina
Wednesday
Titans
The Witcher
Sons of Anarchy
Gachiakuta
Jujutsu Kaisen
Alice in Borderland
Peacemaker
The Umbrella Academy
Avatar: The Last Airbender
Daredevil
The Acolyte
The Order
Magicians
The 100
Criminal Minds
Sandman
The Night Agent
Outer Banks
Percy Jackson
Chicago Fire/PD/Med
Vikings
The Flash
S.W.A.T
Optional Member:
Optional Member 1 (Old) ✧
Untitled I (new) ✧
Shippings:
Ship One
Ship Two
Ship Three
Ship Four
SocMeds:
Discontinued/Not Accepting
Discontinued - ✈︎
Not accepting - Crossed out
Rue Bennett - Co-dependency ✧❦
Peter Pettigrew - In The Shadows ☾❦
NichoJoo - Bass Down Low ✧❦
Lee Heesung - All My Bad Desire ✧❦☾
Neteyam Sully - In Your Fantasy ✧❦
Jabber Wonger - Freak Like Me ✧
Enjin - Untitled ✧
Cameron Cade - You Get Me So High ✧
The Maze Runner - Their Reaction To You Remembering Them 𖥔☾❦
Gally - Monday Mournings ☾❦
Rudo (platonic) / Arkha Corvus - A Mother's Touch ☾❦
Choi Jongho - Forgive Me, Father ✧☾
Fezco O'Neill - Interviewing Your Ex ✧❦
Ateez - Caught In The Act 𖧧𖥔꩜
Song Mingi - Lips 𖧧❦
A/N:
I may have forgotten a few groups, artists, or characters (books, games & movies). If there's anyone not mentioned, drop them in the comments or send me an ask, and I will let you know if I write for them.
pervy, hot loser! Mingi can't keep his eyes off you
pervy, hot loser! Mingi, who wastes most of his university life cutting classes with San and Wooyoung to fuck around and play basketball or spark up behind the building. He gets teased by his friends for still being a virgin despite his looks. He gets called nicknames like "hot loser" quite often by them.
pervy, hot loser! Mingi, who is too focused on jerking off to whichever girl he decides to hyperfixate on, to actually ever go up to one and sleep with them. Whether he's seen them walking through the campus hallways or they had a sliver of an interaction, he will latch onto them as fap fuel for when he gets home. Assignments forgotten as he strips down to his boxers and sits in his bed, a saved porn link already loading as he imagines it's the two of them instead.
pervy, hot loser! Mingi, who happens to stumble upon you studying in the library as he sits down to wait for Hongjoong and attempt to finish his assignments. Your hair was covered in a scarf, but your edges were laid, and you had minimal makeup with your large frames hanging off your nose as you typed furiously on your laptop.
pervy, hot loser! Mingi, who can't stop glancing up at you as you bit your pen when you were thinking or reading your textbook. He couldn't stop himself from letting his eyes wander down the length of your neck to your chest, the top part of your boobs visible in your tank top and open flannel, legs crossed, hiking your skirt up your plush thighs, causing him to drool at the sight of them.
pervy, hot loser! Mingi, who couldn't focus on a single word Hongjoong said as he let his thoughts wander to what your thighs would look like around his head or draped across his thighs as he pounds into you. Are you a moaner? Maybe you whine? Maybe you whimper? All he knew was you were running through his mind, causing his jeans to feel tight, and he didn't even know your name.
pervy, hot loser! Mingi, who went home and had the longest session of his life just masturbating to the thought of you as you sat there studying, he had never felt this intense of a feeling in his life. His large hand pulls out his big, veiny cock from their confines, and he spits in his hand as he strokes himself to what he would do if you let him. He damn blacks out when he reaches his peak, groaning loudly as his chest heaves and his hand moves faster as he jerks himself through his earth-shattering orgasm. The mess on his chest settled as he lay on his bed, limp.
pervy, hot loser! Mingi, who repeats this cycle daily. He'd go to the library and sit at a few tables away, where he won't be in your direct line of sight, but close enough that he can see how your crop top pushes your breasts up, and your jeans hug your curves as you have a new hairdo this time. Twists with beads. The soft clacking of your beads as you shifted your head slightly when you read a new paragraph. He'd watch you throughout your entire study session only to return home and wonder if he'd be able to hear your beads as he thrusts into you from behind, his thoughts race as he imagines you clenching around him as he tightens his fist, moving up and down faster.
pervy, hot loser! Mingi, who gets caught staring at you as you study with Seonghwa by Wooyoung, who teases him for being so hot but such a damn loser who can't pull because once he opens his mouth, he exposes how much of a gooner he is. Hongjoong decides that he has to step in and help, so he gets Seonghwa to set up a tutoring session for him.
pervy, hot loser! Mingi, who comes to your house early because he was so nervous, but what you don't know is that he jerked off before coming over in order to try and decrease his chances of getting hard in your flat. His theory failed. The second you opened the door, he was a goner. He felt his dick twitch in his trousers as you let him into your house that smelt like vanilla and bergamot. As you led him to your table, Mingi couldn't help but stare at your ass on the short walk, almost getting caught by you as you twirled suddenly, and his eyes snapped back up to yours in record time.
pervy, hot loser! Mingi, who can barely concentrate on what you're saying when he's so aware of how close he is to you, close enough to smell your cocoa butter lotion and papaya leave-in conditioner. He was buzzing from head to toe with awareness as he attempted to focus on not cumming in his pants when you brush his leg when you move.
pervy, hot loser! Mingi, who gets caught by you as his eyes practically burn holes through your top and bra. His laser-focused expression as you watched for a second, deciding not to say anything just yet. A few minutes go by before you mention it and watch him attempt to stammer out excuses and apologies.
pervy, hot loser! Mingi, who agrees to your rewards system rule, attempts to answer every question you have for an opportunity to explore your body. With each right answer, he requests a new favour — a graze here, a kiss there — he was practically shaking as he pulled you closer.
pervy, hot loser! Mingi, who loses his virginity that night. You push him down on your bed and give him the ride of his life. He cannot believe he's balls deep in your warm, wet pussy as you bounce up and down on his thick length. He breaths out little moans and groans, broken whines and words escape him as his eyes roll back and his hands alternate from gripping your waist as you move fervently and holding onto the sheets as his hips stutter in his attempt to keep up with your actions.
pervy, hot loser! Mingi, who cums so hard, he hears his ears ringing and his vision blurs as he grabs your thighs and feels your body keep going until you reach your peak a few thrusts later, and your body shakes as you release broken moans of his name before collapsing in his arms.
I hope everything goes well with your & your mum's surgeries, and that you both recover well! We'll be here when you get back, please take all the time you need to rest 💜
Thank you! Thankfully she's doing a lot better now 💚
Hey guys, I'm going to be taking a short break from writing because of some family stuff. My mum is currently in the hospital having the same heart surgery I had to get, and I'm currently preparing to have another surgery done.
I will be back soon with some more fics, and the ones I've already written will be put on queue to release over the next 2 weeks or so.
I'm writing a fic based off of these tiktok videos (this and this), but I can't decide on who to write it for. I was originally thinking Enjin, but then Cameron Cade came to mind, and then so did like 5 other people lol.
The line keeps moving, albums sliding across the table one after another while K smiles sp naturally it almost looks effortless. He's halfway through signing a page when the next person sits down.
Then he freezes.
Only for a second.
But the sharp-eyed fans around them notice.
His pen pauses mid-stroke while his eyes widen just slightly before he leans back in his chair with a breathy laugh. "You came?" he asks quietly, trying to sound casual even though his entire face has softened.
His girlfriend grins slowly like she already knows exactly what kind of effect she has on him. “Surprise.”
K glances toward the crowd immediately after, catching sight of phones already pointed in his direction. He clears his throat, suddenly sitting straighter. “Thank you for supporting the album,” he says in his usual idol voice, but he can’t stop smiling.
She teases him about one of the photocards while he signs her album, and K keeps looking up at her between every sentence like he’s making sure she’s actually real.
The clip goes viral later that night.
Not because of what he says.
Because every few seconds he looks at her like he forgot there are cameras watching him at all.
Luné lose their minds over the way his expression changes completely around her, and screenshots of him staring at her while she talks flood social media within hours.
“HE LOOKS SO IN LOVE???” becomes a trending caption.
And honestly, nobody can blame them.
Fuma:
Fuma notices her immediately.
Of course he does.
But unlike the rest of the members, he barely reacts.
At least outwardly.
He simply blinks once before resting his chin against his hand. “You’re late,” he says smoothly.
Her jaw drops. “Late? I surprised you!”
“I knew you’d come eventually.”
The fans nearby squeal at the exchange while Fuma continues signing her album with maddening composure. But then she leans closer to point at one of the concepts in the photobook, and suddenly he forgets to keep his expression neutral.
His eyes soften instantly, the corners of his mouth lifting in a way that looks far too fond to be casual.
It’s subtle.
Too subtle for him to notice.
Not subtle enough for Luné.
By the time fancams hit social media, everyone is replaying the exact moment he stops listening to the crowd and starts listening only to her. Someone zooms in on the way he unconsciously mirrors her smile.
Another fan posts after replaying the clip fifty times:
“He looked at her like she hung the moon and then tried to act cool five seconds later.”
The clip circulates like wildfire immediately.
Fuma never comments on them.
But the members absolutely do.
Nicholas:
Nicholas is laughing with the previous fan as they moved down the line when she sits down.
The second he sees her, his entire demeanor changes.
“HOLY- what are you doing here?!” he blurts out too loudly.
A few heads turn at the sound of his voice.
He immediately regrets it.
His girlfriend bursts into laughter while Nicholas covers his mouth, eyes darting around the venue like he can somehow erase the last five seconds from existence.
“I’m a fan,” she says innocently.
“You’re annoying,” he mutters, but he’s smiling so hard it sounds more affectionate than insulting.
He spends the entire interaction trying to act normal and failing miserably. He signs the wrong page in her album because he keeps getting distracted looking at her.
At one point, she thanks him for working hard during promotions.
Nicholas stares at her for a full three seconds before quietly saying, “You too.”
The internet explodes.
Fans immediately latch onto the way his teasing disappears whenever she speaks seriously. Viral tweets compare his usual chaotic energy to his sudden shyness in front of her.
One popular comment reads:
“Nicholas looked like HE was the fan signing winner.”
Nobody ever recovers from the eye contact.
Least of all him.
EJ:
EJ almost drops the marker.
He catches it at the last second before looking up at her with the most betrayed expression imaginable.
“You didn’t tell me,” he whispers.
“That would ruin the surprise.”
His ears immediately turn pink, and it only gets worse when she keeps smiling at him across the table.
Fans nearby coo softly while EJ tries desperately to focus on signing the album properly. He asks her polite fan-sign questions like he asks everyone else, except his voice keeps getting quieter every time she smiles at him.
When she compliments the new album, he ducks his head shyly.
“Thank you for always listening to our music,” he says.
Our music.
Not my music.
As if that makes the interaction any less obvious.
The viral clip later captures the exact moment EJ accidentally stops signing because he’s too busy staring at her while she talks.
Luné collectively decide he’s hopeless around a baddie.
“He looks at her like she personally invented happiness,” one fan writes.
Another points out how he instinctively leaned closer every time she lowered her voice.
The shipping tweets gain thousands of likes omand comments within days. The videos gaining even more.
EJ never watches them.
The members most certainly do, teasing him for being unable to stay cool.
Yuma:
Yuma notices her instantly and immediately narrows his eyes.
“You planned this with the members, didn’t you?”
She smiles innocently.
“That’s confidential.”
Yuma laughs under his breath, shaking his head while signing her album. Unlike the others, he recovers quickly, slipping into playful banter like this is completely normal.
Still, there’s something noticeably softer about him during their conversation.
He listens carefully to every word she says, elbows resting on the table while he watches her with quiet amusement.
At one point, she tells him she’s proud of how hard he’s worked for this comeback.
Yuma’s teasing expression disappears immediately.
“Don’t say things like that here,” he murmurs, looking at her like he already knows he’s losing composure.
Unfortunately for him, one of the many cameras picks it up.
The fancam goes catastrophically viral.
Luné replay the clip nonstop, especially the part where he keeps staring at her after she finishes talking like he forgot there are hundreds of people around them.
Someone captions a clipped part of the video.
“He folded SO FAST.”
No one disagrees.
Jo:
Jo sees her and instantly lights up.
There’s no subtlety.
None.
His eyes get brighter, his smile wider, and suddenly every fan nearby starts screaming because they’ve clearly witnessed something important.
“You actually came!” he says.
“Why do you sound surprised?”
“Because you said you were busy!”
She shrugs smugly while Jo laughs so hard he has to pause signing the album for a second.
The entire interaction feels warm and easy, like they forgot cameras existed and accidentally slipped into their own little world for a minute. Jo keeps trying to continue the conversation normally, but every time she says something funny he looks at her with this unbearably fond expression.
Fans notice immediately.
One fancam in particular spreads everywhere because it catches Jo staring at her while she talks to the point where a staff member has to remind him to keep the line moving.
The internet loses it.
“HE WAS LOOKING AT HER LIKE A DISNEY PRINCE,” someone tweets.
The clips being shared across multiple accounts with different angles from the fansign became unavoidable after that.
Especially because Jo accidentally likes one.
Harua:
Harua’s reaction is small.
So small most people would miss it.
But not the fans.
The moment she sits down, his eyes widen just slightly before he presses his lips together to stop himself from smiling too hard.
“You came,” he says softly.
“Mhm.”
“That’s dangerous.”
She laughs quietly while Harua lowers his head, pretending to focus on the album even though he keeps sneaking glances at her every few seconds.
The interaction itself is calm and gentle. They speak softly enough that fans can’t hear much over the venue noise, but Harua’s expression says more than enough.
He watches her with complete focus, eyes lingering on her face a second too long every single time she smiles.
Like nothing else around him exists.
The fancam becomes one of the most talked-about clips from the event because Luné notice how differently he looks at her compared to everyone else.
There’s one screenshot in particular where he’s staring at her with the softest smile imaginable.
It trends for two days.
Fans collectively decide they’ve never seen him look happier.
Taki:
Taki gasps.
Like actually gasps.
The second he sees her, he points dramatically across the table. “YOU!”
The members beside him immediately start sniggering.
“Taki,” she says through laughter, “please act normal.”
“I am normal! This is me being totally normal!”
He is absolutely not normal.
He spends the next two minutes trying to whisper while somehow still being louder than everyone else. He keeps asking why she didn’t tell him she was coming, then gets distracted halfway through signing because she compliments his performance.
His entire face goes pink.
The members notice instantly.
Nicholas starts teasing him from two seats away while Taki tries to defend himself and completely forgets there are fans filming everything.
Naturally, the video goes viral.
Luné adore the way he looks at her with pure excitement, like he genuinely can’t believe she showed up just to support him.
One comment gains over a hundred thousand likes:
“He looks like a puppy seeing his favorite person and immediately forgetting how to act normal.”
That basically becomes the official fandom opinion afterwards.
Maki:
Maki is in the middle of talking to Taki when he looks up and completely loses his train of thought.
“…Oh.” He blanks, staring at her like she was a figment of his imagination.
"Wait, I mean hi."
His girlfriend grins. “Good recovery.”
“No, hold on, I had something cool to say.”
“You definitely did."
Maki laughs, running a hand through his hair while fans around them immediately start reacting to the chemistry between them.
He tries to continue the conversation casually, but every sentence somehow sounds flirtier than intended.
When she tells him she’s proud of him, he leans forward slightly.
“You should be,” he says jokingly.
Then he notices the crowd reacting.
Then he realizes what he said.
Then he nearly dies.
His girlfriend is laughing too hard to save him while Maki hides his face behind the album for a full five seconds.
Unfortunately, a lot of the cameras in the venue caught it.
It was the kind of quiet Saturday afternoon that felt stolen; soft golden light slanting through the blinds, the distant hum of the city muted to a whisper. You were draped across the couch, your head pillowed on Nicholas's thigh, scrolling aimlessly while his fingers absently traced patterns along your shoulder. Some show droned in the background, forgotten by you.
Then a video popped up on your feed that piques your interest. A girl setting up her phone, the caption reading: "testing my bf to see if he melts into the kiss."
A slow grin spread across your face.
You sat up abruptly, and Nicholas jolted, his hand falling away from your shoulder. He blinked at you, wary. That look — the one that said he knew exactly what was coming.
"What are you planning?" he quizzed, already half-sighing.
You didn't answer. You just grabbed his wrist and tugged him off the couch, leading him into the kitchen like you were sneaking him past security. He stumbled after you, amused despite himself.
You positioned him near the counter, his back to the fridge, feet planted. He stood there like he'd been posed for a sculpture class, hands loose at his sides, watching you with raised brows as you pulled out your phone, set it on the counter, and angled the camera just right before you pressed the record button.
You stepped back and lifted his arms above his head. He didn't drop them, but his eyes narrowed.
"Are you going to tell me what this is, or should I start guessing?"
"Patience, my love," you hummed.
You stepped into the space between his arms — into his space. Your palms slid up his chest, slow, deliberate. You could feel the steady thud of his heartbeat through the fabric, a steady rhythm that quickened as your fingers dragged higher. His breath caught, barely, but you caught it.
You looped your arms around his neck, pulling him down just slightly, aligning your lips with his.
And then you kissed him.
Soft at first. Testing. A question pressed against his mouth.
But his answer came instantly. His hands dropped from above his head to your waist, gripping the fabric of your shirt as he pulled you flush against him. The kiss deepened, hungrier now, his lips parting against yours, his fingers curling into your sides like he was afraid you'd pull away.
You broke it after a few seconds, breath warm between you.
He didn't let go. His mouth found yours again. Quick, needy, a soft press. Then another. His grip tightened.
You laughed against his lips, pulling back just far enough to meet his eyes. Your grin was wicked.
"Good to know."
He looked dazed, his gaze locked on your mouth like he was memorising the shape of it. "Mind telling me what that was about?"
His thumb traced a slow circle against your hip. Lazy. Possessive. The kind of motion that said his mind had already wandered far past this moment.
"There's a trend going around," you said, your voice lower now, your lips still close enough that every word brushed his skin. "People kiss their partners to see if they melt into it. I wanted to test you."
He glanced at the camera, then back at you. A slow smile crept across his face.
"Safe to say you're completely whipped," you added, your grin sharpening.
He pinched your waist lightly, but his eyes never left yours. The air between you felt thicker now, charged with something unspoken.
"Turn the camera off," he murmured, his voice dropping to something rough and low. His hand slid up your spine, pressing you closer, until there was no space left between your bodies. "I'll show you whipped."
I'm writing a fic based off of these tiktok videos (this and this), but I can't decide on who to write it for. I was originally thinking Enjin, but then Cameron Cade came to mind, and then so did like 5 other people lol.
The lights dropped. The audience erupted. My chest locked tight.
Lucia grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the wings before I’d even caught my breath. My ears still rang with the synths we’d thrown into the room, the kick drum thudding somewhere stubborn beneath my ribs.
We stumbled backstage grinning like idiots, weaving through crew hauling drum cases and folding tables.
“Dude, they were singing it back,” Lucia gasped.
We tripped over chords and our feet. Around us, the building still pulsed. Staff rushed past with congratulations, stagehands shouted cues, somewhere another amp screamed to life. For them, it was over. But for us, it was just the beginning.
Passing a table of champagne, we grabbed two glasses each before rushing to our dressing room. The halls filled with laughter and excitement as we recapped the show, almost trying to remember what had happened.
“We absolutely murdered that.”
“I fucked up the loop on the second verse”
“And still killed them,”
We swung open the door of the dressing and stormed in, ready to take the thick layers of makeup and sweat off. Jewellery clattered next to used wipes discarded onto the dresser. I pulled pin after pin from my hair, letting them fall onto the floor. Lucia had changed into a large sweatshirt and some shorts and had made herself comfortable on the sofa, chugging her second glass.
We sat in silence, for the first time all night, the quiet found us.
Lucia peered over her phone, her eyes red with newfound tiredness.
“Naomi,” I looked over at her, my eyelids hanging low
She turned her phone, a singular tweet on the screen
Backlit Eden has arrived
At that exact moment, a pound rattled the door. Before either of us could react, it swung open to reveal a tall brown hair man beaming. Confetti hung on his leather jacket, slightly damp from the beer sloshing in his plastic cup. A paper hat sat crumpled on his head.
The Marauders lead singer.
He stomped into the room and from behind him pulled out two christmas crackers
Its June
“If the coronation is officially over, the other gods are waiting on the roof.
I glanced over at Lucia who seemed very entertained. She grabbed one of the crackers and a pop filled my ears. She scrambled to find her hat as I followed suit.
We got up to follow the singer, swapping hats in the hallway when we realised we preferred the others colour.
We made our way up through the building, silent as the brunette rambled to us.
“You guys were amazing. Black hasn’t shut up about your mixes by the way. He mentioned a disaster in the second verse but I wouldn’t listen to him.”
My stomach dropped at the mention of my mistake.
Was it noticeable? Ugh.
We climbed some stairs that led to a small door and the singer pushed it open with a melodramatic force. His arms spread wide as he stepped through initiating an eruption of cheers.
There were fairy lights haphazardly hung up between industrial poles. Leaning towers of beer sat in the middle of the terrace, stack of plastic cups balanced precariously on top. The view revealed the London skyline peppered with the artificial light the city radiated. A speaker placed in a corner was blasting EDM adjacent music. A phone was being passed as people added to the queue. There was a group of people huddled around the beer stack, they erupted as the singer made his entrance.
“James, where have you been man?”
“I had to get the newest members of our club.” He stepped aside to reveal Lucia and I stood awkwardly behind him.
We hadn’t officially met other artists signed to Aurelian, so being thrown in front of people who were, technically, our competition felt surreal.
I waved awkwardly as some of them approached.
“Right, this is Remus, he’s a bit moody” James pointed to the man who wrapped his arm around his shoulder.
“I’m not moody, Black just stole my fags. Gimme” He reached into James’ pocket and pulled out a box of Sterling Dual and walked away.
“Peter, make sure he gives those back,” I glanced over to see the drummer already looking at us. His face was inscrutable, but he was staring past me. I slowly swivelled my head to see Lucia staring directly at him. Her face was neutral, but her eyes seemed to water.
“Yo, Luce, are you okay?” I placed my hand on her shoulder and she broke her stare.
“Yea, no, I’m fine,” She walked past me to grab a drink. She peeked over at Peter before pouring. Her hand trembled imperceptibly.
I turned back to face Peter but he had situated himself within another group next to James and Remus.
Before I could allow the awkward feeling to settle, a drink was shoved into my hand and I was dragged towards the group.
James was standing on an old crate, his drink held high as a suspicious smile creeped over his face.
“Listen up future wake-up calls,”
The majority of the terrace ignored him but this didn’t slow his momentum. Those of us close enough gathered closer and followed his action. I gazed over the group, taking in the artists around me. I found myself looking over at Sirius. He stood by the railings, separated from the group. I could see his mind whirring, deciding whether to willingly join or be dragged in. His eyes drifted to James’s pocket. He nodded to himself, decision made, and slipped in next to Peter.
“To The New Gods.”
“The New Gods” we echoed.
I scanned around to those around me and felt comfort for the first time all night.
I was surrounded by people who thought like me, moved like me, spoke in the same frequencies as me. These were people who I never had to translate myself for.
“May we stay strange long enough to matter. Make enough bad decisions to stay relevant”
“I didn’t sign up for that” Remus muttered
“and get famous before we have the chance to become insufferable”
“I fear it’s too late for you” Peter jeered. A laugh erupted from the group.
“With that being said, Worst gig experiences?” James jumped down from his pedestal.
We all stayed quiet for a beat.
“Fine I’ll go first,” James sighed comically
“Pre-Marauder, Leeds, Student Union. The promoter had paid us in drink tokens and a packet of Skittles.” We all fell silent as he spoke.
“We were mid-set and the power went out”
“So what did you do?” I asked
“We finished acoustically in the dark,”
“That’s kind of beautiful” Lucia beamed
“It was…until a drunk fresher threw up in my pedalboard.”
Groans and laughter circled the group.
“Right, mine’s not that bad. But my friends bassist got sick before a show in Manchester and asked me to fill in,” Remus started
“Was all fine until the guitarists girlfriend broke up with him after soundcheck. He was crying the whole set.” He giggled at the memory
“Whilst playing?” Peter asked
“Right into the mic, dude. Encore was sobbed in D minor” He laughed
“I got electrocuted” Sirius said completely deadpan
The silence creeped back in as we all stared at him waiting for an explanation, but it never came.
“On stage?” I asked
“Yup”
“What happened?”
“Finished”
He fiddled with his rings.
“He blacked out for 8 seconds” Peter whispered
“Still finished, didn’t I?”
“Mine was at Ryebeck, my first year–”
“You went Ryebeck?” Peter and Remus asked simultaneously
I paused
“Yeah, left 2020. Anyway, I was doing a charity set for the local nursing home. It was only when we got there, we realised the cables for the PA had been chewed up by my bandmate's dog.”
Lucia guffawed.
“Sorry,” she was in hysterics now
“It’s not funny. I just remembered the snaps I got that day.”
“Yea it’s funny now, the audience was made up of 7 pensioners and someone’s uncle. I think they shared one functioning hearing aid” I scoffed
“We shouted the whole set. Afterwards, an old lady handed me her dentures and walked away.”
Lucia erupted louder.
“Why?” She struggled for breath as she shared
“I still don’t know.”
Sirius joined Lucia in her hysterics and everyone followed.
I rolled my eyes and jabbed my finger in her side.
“Your turn, bitch.” I giggled
She took a deep breath and grounded herself
“Damn, wow. Mine is…Madrid. We were at an outdoor youth festival. They warned us that there may be some rain before we started the day. Little did they know, that rain was a full on storm. The generators blew and the whole stage nearly collapsed.” She recalled
“Yeah, that wins” James nodded
“It gets better, the drummer vanished and we couldn’t find him for ages.”
“I didn’t vanish” We all snapped up our heads
It had come from Peter.
“You left.” Lucia fought back
He stared down at his frayed jumper sleeves. He picked at them anxiously as he responded.
“I came back.”
“20 minutes later.”
No one laughed.
“Hang on…” James questioned
“Wait, do you two know each other?” I asked
Lucia responded briskly
“Barely”
“We performed together once…” Peter trailed off.
I looked at Lucia with confusion but she refused to meet my eyes. Her chest rattled with every breath she took. She grabbed her drink and downed it, as if it would drown her thoughts.
I coughed as I tried to find a distraction
In front of me, James raised his arm again and proposed a new toast.
“To surviving electrocution, mother nature and old lady teeth”
We cheered as we settled into individual conversations.
Sirius had gotten up from his seat and walked over to James. His hand instinctively reached into his pocket as he took his phone.
“Yo, Black, don’t clear the entire queue.” James reprimanded
Sirius sauntered over to the seat next to me and threw himself down. He leant in closer and whispered in my ear.
“That story didn’t end in Madrid”
When I didn’t respond, he scrolled through Spotify. A sigh escaped his lips as he clicked the song, allowing it to play immediately.
“Dude, did you clear the queue for My Bloody Valentine?” James was disappointed
Only Shallow took over the airwaves. The distortions moved Sirius subtly. His foot tapped against the floor as his fingers moved with the chords.
“Respect the cathedral” he mumbled
Subconsciously, my foot joined his. He noticed us tapping in unison.
“See Maestro agrees,” He chuckled
“I curated a marvelous queue.”
“You created a marvelous snoozefest,” He snubbed
“Thats a bold claim.” I bantered
“You’ll learn I’m never wrong.”
We looked at each other as the song came to an end. He handed me the phone.
“Go on Virtuoso, show us what a real queue looks like.”
I took it without hesitation. I knew exactly what was needed.
Float bled through the speakers.
As the drums began to bloom, a smile betrayed me.
I passed the phone back, only to find him looking at me completely thrown.
“You know EDEN?”
I lifted a shoulder.
“Who do you think inspired my sound?
He looked at me strangely.
“Right.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“What!” I exasperated
He took a sip of his drink and looked me dead in my eyes.
The bass shook the beams above as I stepped into the building. Pulsing crowds of investors, producers, and journalists swirled around me, networking to their hearts’ desires. Conversations about new talent, red carpets, and upcoming tours harmonised with the feedback humming through the air.
Aurelian had signed me a month ago, and today was the day they paraded me to the industry.
Weeks of morning meetings, midday meltdowns, and late-night studio sessions had all led to this moment. They had converted an abandoned warehouse into a speakeasy. The walls were a rich brown, accented with dim golden lighting. Strobe lights bounced off the mythical statues that towered over us. As I made my way deeper, plush velvet sofas dotted the space behind dark red ropes.
God, I don’t belong here. These people are drowning in accolades.
I went to the bar and found an overwhelming selection of bottles. Burgundy roses were scattered across the back. Light bounced off golden trinkets, crystal glasses, and half-full champagne flutes.
I opted for the safe choice, a margarita, and made my way towards the stage.
I found a lone table near the front. My eyes darted between the crowd, the stage, and the crew setting up.
A soft tap landed on my shoulder. I glanced up to see Lucia grinning from ear to ear, twirling her dark curls, visibly buzzing with excitement.
“Bitch, this is fucking mental.” She gathered her long dress as she took a seat beside me, stealing a sip of my drink on her way down.
I rolled my eyes, smiling back at her.
“Dude, I know. This isn’t Ryebeck. There are actual people here. I swear I saw Harlem at the bar.”
Lucia gasped, scanning the room, trying to spot the rapper.
We went back and forth, our excitement climbing as A-listers and journalists passed by. I glanced towards the stage and noticed something projected onto the back wall.
“The Marauders,” I muttered.
“Who?” Lucia’s head snapped towards it, her eyes dimming slightly.
Before I could question her, four boys walked onto the stage and took their places.
A man with messy brown hair stepped up to the main mic. His array of silver rings glistened as he adjusted the stand. The drummer, slightly shorter, placed spare drumsticks into a small pot beside him and tested his cymbals.
To the left stood the bassist, the tallest of them all. He tuned his bass by ear, clearly showing off. A faint smile crossed his face when he noticed two women pointing at him.
And then there was the lead guitarist.
Jet-black hair framed his face, a toothpick hanging loosely from his mouth. He picked up a dark blue guitar and plucked at random strings, as if feeling it out. He moved to the front of the stage, crouching by his mic. Loop pedals surrounded him as he adjusted them.
His energy felt like static. It pulled me in.
He glanced up briefly, and our eyes locked.
The steady pulse of the room quickened.
Or maybe that was my heart.
His dark eyes held me. Heat crept across my face as he smiled. Strands of hair fell into his eyes, and when he pushed them back, his calloused hands revealed astrological tattoos.
I broke the moment first.
Girl, relax.
“Oi, Sirius.”
He turned towards the others gathered at the centre of the stage, then glanced back at me before joining them.
I looked over at Lucia. A dark frown had settled on her face.
“Luce, what’s up?” I followed her gaze. She was staring intently at the drummer.
“Oooh, a crush?” I teased.
She turned to me, serious.
“No. That’s—”
A single chord cut her off, echoing through the speakers. The room shifted as attention snapped to the stage.
“We are The Marauders, and this first song is Velvet Static.”
Synths and sporadic drum patterns circled my ears. Each chord vibrated through the tables. In the corner of my eye, journalists scribbled notes and recorded voice memos, preparing the articles that might decide our fate.
The melody moved through the crowd so naturally that, for a moment, networking stopped. People just listened.
There were slight inconsistencies in the loops, minor timing slips, but they used them. Twisted them into something that felt otherworldly.
Established artists tapped their feet, searching for connection. Their faces gave nothing away.
Did they like it?
Hate it?
Label representatives leaned into quiet conversations, debating who discovered whom and what they brought to the table.
On stage, the boys were at home.
The drummer, once shy, came alive behind the kit, confidence radiating from him. The lead singer carried a cocky, playful edge, shifting effortlessly from deep lows to airy falsetto. His voice commanded the room, and no one resisted.
Sirius moved with the music. His fingers danced across the strings as his head swayed with the rhythm. He and the bassist leaned into each other, as if blending their sound through movement alone.
The singer took control of the space, weaving between his bandmates before jumping into the crowd. He serenaded people as he passed, lingering by those who seemed unimpressed.
On his way back, he stopped at our table.
Energy and control. Interesting.
He winked at me, then took Lucia’s hand and pressed a light kiss to it before slipping back onto the stage.
We dissolved into laughter, still moving to the music.
As I melted into the sound, a voice cut in beside me.
“Naomi.”
I turned to see Elise from the office. Her usual ponytail had been replaced with a tight slicked-back bun. The sweater vest and jeans were gone, swapped for a floor-length gown.
“The executives want you and Lucia backstage.”
She didn’t wait for a response. As we scrambled to our feet, she was already moving. We grabbed our drinks and hurried after her, stumbling slightly in our heels.
At the door, she held it open, then swiftly took the glasses from our hands.
“You can drink after.”
She placed them on a nearby table and ushered us forward.
As Elise stormed ahead, Lucia doubled back, grabbed her glass, and downed it in one go.
“I’m not giving up a free marg,” she muttered, following quickly.
We moved deeper into the building as the song ended behind us, the crowd erupting. A sharper, more upbeat drumline bled through the walls.
note: Part two of The Thick of It. very loosely inspired by Eric Benét's Chocolate Legs and Beyoncé's Naughty Girl whilst writing this.
i probably misrepresented American colleges (sorry Americans) and used wrong football terms, i am not knowledgeable on the sport.
no use of y/n. reader is described as black, plus-size (no real mention of physical appearance), British, and tatted.
summary: Cameron Cade has finally gotten his hands on the new girl, and he is insatiable. But what happens when she overhears some unsavoury things and judgments about her budding relationship with the star quarterback? Will they survive the heat of his fame, or will it consume them?
pairing: Cameron Cade x f!reader
warnings: fat shaming, a little angst, smut, porn with (some) plot, p in v, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (wrapping before tapping)
word count: 6505
part one // part two
The steam from the bathroom clung to your skin like a second layer as Cameron guided you out of the shower, his grip firm on your damp waist. He didn’t bother with towels, simply walked you backwards across the hall, his mouth finding yours in a searing, open-mouthed kiss that tasted of mint and lingering heat. The backs of your knees hit the mattress, and you fell back, the duvet cool against your overheated skin. Cameron followed you down immediately, covering your body with his, the weight of him grounding and overwhelming all at once.
There was no hesitation this time, no slow build. He hooked your legs over his arms, spreading you wide, and drove into you with a groan that vibrated against your chest. The stretch was intense, a burning fullness that stole the air from your lungs. He didn't hold back, his hips snapping forward with a rhythm that was both punishing and precise.
You dug your nails into his shoulders, your head falling back as you met his thrusts, the wet slap of skin against skin filling the quiet room. The bed frame creaked in time with your movements, a rhythmic protest that matched the escalating tension coiling in your belly. When you came, it was with a sharp cry that he swallowed with his mouth, his own release following moments later, hot and pulsing deep inside you.
The frantic energy seemed to drain out of the both of you at once. Cameron collapsed onto his elbows, careful not to crush you, burying his face into the crook of your neck. For a long moment, the only sound was your ragged breathing slowing down, syncing up. Then, he shifted, rolling both of your bodies onto their sides so you faced each other.
The confidence that usually defined him had softened, his eyes tracing the lines of your face with that expression that made your chest tight. "Bet Jayson couldn't have made you cum that many times," his voice raspy and low from your previous actions. Once again, you rolled your eyes at him, lightly shoving at his slightly damp chest.
"Who?" You teased, trailing a hand across the expanse of his arm. This time, he was the one to roll his eyes, pulling you closer to him and placing a soft kiss against your temple.
He reached out, tucking a stray damp curl behind your ear, his thumb brushing over the shell of your ear. "Now who's being insufferable?" He started, a soft murmur of words as you basked in each other's presence. "You're incredible," his voice a low rumble that you felt more than heard.
He leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, then the tip of your nose, and finally your lips. It wasn't a demand, but a question, gentle and searching. You felt your defences waver. You kissed him back, your hand coming up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart. He pulled you closer, tucking your head under his chin, and for a while, the two of you just lay there, tangled in the sheets, the scent of sex and rain coming from the open window heavy in the air.
But the quiet couldn't last.
The next few days were a blur of stolen glances and lingering touches in the hallways. The push and pull remained — you rolled your eyes at his cocky grin, Cameron making snide comments about your study habits — but the resistance was crumbling. Every brush of his arm against yours sent a jolt of electricity straight to your core. You quickly realised that you two could not keep your hands off each other, the need for contact overriding your pride.
It happened three days later under the bleachers during a practice session. The air was thick with the smell of cut grass and damp earth, the shadows long and concealing. Cameron found you there, ostensibly hiding from the noise, but really waiting for him. He didn't say a word, just crowded you against the cool metal support beams, his hands sliding up your skirt to find your bare, wet pussy.
"Missed me, baby?" he whispered, his fingers sinking knuckle-deep in your warm heat.
You bit your lip to stifle. amoan, her hands fumbling with his belt buckle. "Shut up and fuck me."
He freed his cock, hard and heavy, and lifted you effortlessly. You wrapped your legs around his waist, and he slid into you in one smooth stroke.
"Fuck! Cam— please." You moan, hands clutching at his jersey, your blue stiletto nails digging in through the material. It was fast and dirty; the metal of the bleachers felt cold against your back while he pounded into you, his breath hot in your ear.
Above the two of you, the stomping of cleats and the coach's whistle provided a rhythmic soundtrack to your debauchery. You came quickly, clenching around him, and he followed, pulling out just in time to spill onto your inner thigh, marking your dark skin with his cum.
The car was two days later. You were supposed to be driving to a study group, but Cameron pulled into a secluded overlook towering over the city lights. "Cam, this is not where we're supposed to be," you chided, no real protests being heard as you sat in the passenger seat, staring out at the view.
"Come 'ere." His hands reach out to grab your face and pull you into a kiss. His tongue slid into your mouth as you leaned over the dashboard, melting into the mess of the kiss.
He reclined the passenger seat, and you straddled him, the tight confines of the car forcing your bodies close. "You gon ride this dick, ma?" His hand reached down to grip your ass before he laid a firm slap against the plump skin.
The windows fogged up as you rode him, your hands braced on the roof of the car. The angle was deep, hitting a spot that made you see stars. Cameron gripped your ass, guiding your movements, his eyes locked on yours.
Above him, you rocked your hips faster, chasing your high, head lolling as your whines and moans echoed against the metal of the car. "Look at you," he gritted out, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight circles on the bundle of nerves. "Riding my dick like you own it."
"I- I'm close," you whimper, lowering a hand to rest beside his head as you continue your movements.
The stimulation was too much. You shattered, your walls fluttering around him as he emptied himself inside you with a guttural groan, throwing his head back against the headrest. You stayed there for a moment, foreheads pressed together, the air in the car heavy and humid.
The risk only seemed to fuel the both of you.
An empty chemistry lab became your playground the following week.
Cameron joined you in the lab, watching as you moved with ease around the benches, grabbing a beaker and a clear liquid he didn't know the name of, and watched as you poured it into the beaker set up on the tripod above an unlit Bunsen burner. His cock stirred in his grey sweatpants as he listened to you explain your method.
Next thing you knew, the smell of sulfur and sterile surfaces contrasted sharply with raw, primal need taking over an empty lab bench. Cameron bent you over the cold resin of the table, pulling down your jeans. He dropped to his knees behind you, spreading your cheeks to lap at your pussy and ass, his tongue delving deep.
"Cameron, someone could walk in," you hissed, though you pushed back against his face.
"Let them," he growled, standing up and lining his dick up with your entrance. He thrust in hard, the stools under the bench scraping loudly against the floor as your legs bucked into them from the strength of his thrusts. He reached around to cover your mouth with his hand, muffling your cries as he took you with relentless abandon. The fear of discovery mixed with the pleasure, sending you hurtling toward the edge. When you came, your knees buckled, and he had to hold you up, his own release pulsing hot inside you.
The final straw broke in your own down room. You were on the phone. to your mother back in London, trying to maintain a normal conversation about the weather and your classes, while Cameron sat on the edge of your bed, a wicked glint in his eyes. He slid off the bed and crawled under your desk, hidden from view by the table.
You tilted your head down slightly at the feeling of a warm hand wrapping around your ankle and tugging.
Keep quiet, he mouthed, moving closer as he watched your attempt at maintaining a conversation with your mum.
"So, yeah, mum, the classes are... quite intense," you finish, your voice hitching as Cameron's hands parted your knees.
You glared down at him, but he just smirked, leaning in to run his tongue along the seam of your leggings. Turning your phone to move away from your mouth as you took in a sharp inhale. You bit your knuckle, trying to focus on your mother's voice droning on about the rain in London as Cameron pulled your leggings down your thick thighs and threw them on the floor of your room, his fingers pulling the fabric of your panties aside, exposing you to the cool air, and then his mouth was on you. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking it into his mouth with ruthless precision.
"Are you alright, sweetie? You sound out of breath," your mother asked.
"I'm... No, I'm fine," you gasped, your hand reaching down and cradling the back of Cameron's head, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away. "Just... running up the stairs."
Cameron hummed against your clit, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your nervous system. He slid two fingers inside you, curling them just right, while his tongue continued its assault. It was agonisingly difficult to keep your voice steady, to answer your mum's questions about your diet and your sleep schedule while your body was being expertly unravelled. The pressure built to an unbearable peak, and when you finally came, you had to bite your lip hard to keep from screaming into the receiver. You slumped against the pillow on your desk chair, your legs trembling as Cameron emerged from under the desk, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and looking entirely too pleased with himself.
"Give my love to Dad," you managed to say into the phone before hanging up, tossing the device onto the pile of books adorning your desk and pulling Cameron up for a kiss that tasted of your own arousal and rebellion.
"You are absolute trouble," you breathed, your chest still heaving as you stared down at Cameron, who was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The taste of your own release still lingered on his lips, a testament to the chaos he had just wrought while you tried to explain your course schedule to your mother.
Cameron grinned, that cocky, lopsided expression that usually made you want to slap him, but now only made your knees weak. He stood up, leaning over your body to crowd you. His jersey, worn from practise, brushes against your bare arms. "She bought it, didn't she? 'Running up the stairs.' Classic."
"I almost had a heart attack," you scolded, though your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer rather than pushing him away. "If she heard you... or heard me..."
"But she didn't," he murmured, dipping his head to nip at the sensitive spot behind your ear. "And now you're off the hook. Unless you need another distraction?"
You rolled your eyes, but the heat pooling in your stomach betrayed you. "Shut up and kiss me."
He didn't need to be told twice. The kiss was hungry, a collision of teeth and tongues that tasted of rebellion and lingering adrenaline. Cameron lifted you effortlessly, seating you on the edge of the desk. He stepped between your thighs, his hands gripping your hips with a possessiveness that made your head spin. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him flush against you.
"You're insatiable," you gasped against his mouth as he ground his hardness against your lace-covered mound.
"Only for you," he countered, his voice dropping an octave as your fingers worked to unbutton his jeans with practised ease, your knuckles brushing against his hardened length. You were already wet, aching for him after the oral torture he'd subjected you to.
Once he freed himself from the confines of his boxers, he stroked his thick cock once before lining up with your entrance. With one sharp thrust, he buried himself inside you, causing you to cry out, your head falling back as he stretched you out. He set a punishing rhythm as you let out a string of moans and curses, filling you completely. His hips driving into you with the same urgency he had shown under the desk.
The desk squeaked beneath your rocking bodies, a rhythmic protest that matched the slap of skin against skin. "Look at me," he commanded, gripping your chin and forcing your eyes to meet his. His green eyes are dark, dilated with lust. "Who's fucking you?"
"Y- fuck, Cam. You," you moaned, your nails digging into his shoulders through the jersey. "You are, Cameron."
"Damn right," he growled, capturing your lips again as he pistoned into you. The coil of tension in your stomach tightened rapidly, snapping before you could brace for it. You came with a shudder and broken wail, your pussy clenching around him like a vice. He followed you over the edge a moment later, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he pulsed deep inside you, filling you with his cum.
For a moment, you both just stayed there, tangled together in the aftermath, the silence of the dorm room heavy around you. But reality, as always, was waiting.
Two weeks later, the dynamic shifted back to its usual push-and-pull that had started defining you two in public.
The campus was buzzing with excitement for the football team's upcoming home game, voices blurring together as you walked to your locker. As usual, Cameron's tall frame could be seen above the heads of the students walking past. "Hey, you coming to the game right?" He asks as he readjusts his gym bag full of gear.
"What? Number 7 can't play without little ol' me being there?" You teased as you pulled open the metal door, a slight grating sound following along with it. You took out the books weighing down your rucksack and placed them in the upper section of the locker, his body shifting nearby to stand closer to you.
"Ahh, you know I need my good luck charm."
A puff of air leaves you as you laugh at his words. "Well damn, now I guess I have to be there."
A wide grin graces his face. "I'll keep an eye out. I'll see you later, love." He quickly presses a kiss against your cheek before he jogs off down the hallway.
As the hours tick down to the game, you prepare to go watch the game in your dorm room. A sultry playlist echoed from your speaker around your room as you took out your hair products to attempt a new hairstyle you saw on Pinterest.
Once you had finished your hair and makeup, the time showed that you had around 45 minutes before the game started. Your phone dinged with a notification from Cameron.
Menace 😈: Come early? Need a good luck kiss from my good luck charm for it to work.
Love 🇬🇧: This what you say to your other girls?
Menace 😈: Only girl I got is you, ma, pull up. I'm in the changing rooms.
You laughed and shook your head, but stood up, checking your outfit once more and spraying your perfume before pulling on your shoes and the grey hoodie Cameron had left behind and left to meet him.
Once you reached the changing rooms, you shot him a text saying you're outside. The campus was practically empty as everyone was either already getting seats on the field's bleachers or back at their dorms getting ready for the quickly approaching game.
As you scrolled through Instagram on your phone, a voice rang out from beside you. "You came."
"Well, I couldn't be the reason our star quarterback had a bad game, now could I?" You ribbed, looking up from your phone at the sight of the man in front of you leaning against the wall beside you, as his body jolted from a low laugh.
"Exactly. I got a reputation to uphold, love." He moved closer, hand coming up to cradle your cheek as he leaned in to place a slow kiss to your glossed lips, pulling you further in as he deepened the kiss.
The two of you were lost in your own world, only broken apart at the sound of Cameron's teammates chanting and psyching themselves up. Once he pulled away, the lights in the corridor illuminated the sparkly lip gloss that transferred to his lips. "My God, you are messy." You laughed, lifting a hand to swipe your thumb across his plump lips to remove any residue.
"I could get messier." He returned, a flash of mischief running through his eyes as you rolled your eyes at his innuendo.
"Down, boy. You have a game to win. They're waiting for you." You pushed at his chest, moving him back.
"I'll see you after?"
"Yeah."
You walked towards the large football field, sitting beside one of your classmates and her girlfriend. The three of you chatted excitedly about the party a nearby frat would be hosting if the university won the game.
The game started, and there was a roar of cheering from your peers as all eyes were on the players who were running onto the field. Your eyes felt magnetised to Cameron's frame as he got everyone into position, shouting commands and hyping the team up further.
As the game progressed, you leaned forward in suspense as the bleachers erupted in noise, the sound pressing against your chest like a second heartbeat. The clock was bleeding out, just seconds left, and everything hung on this final play.
Cameron stood in the pocket, calm in a way that didn't make sense when everything around him seemed to be buzzing with chaotic energy. You'd seen that look before, quiet and focused, like the rest of the world fades out at his command. "Come on, Cam," you whisper, not even realising you've spoken out loud, as you grip the edge of your seat.
The snap. The rush. The defenders closing in.
Then Cameron moved.
He broke right, barely slipping past a tackle, and for a second it looked like he was going to throw, but he didn't. He ran. Straight for the end zone. The crowd rose all at once, a wave of noise so loud that it almost drowned out your thoughts.
He dove.
Touchdown.
Everything explodes. Lights, cheers, people jumping, screaming. You shoot up on your feet too, heart racing, watching him get swallowed by his teammates as they clap his back and hoot in happiness. For a moment, it felt like you were part of it, like you belonged in the glow of that win.
But the feeling doesn't last long.
As you slip away from the stands, heading down towards the hallway near the locker rooms to wait for Cameron, where it's quieter. Cooler. Easier to breathe and release that adrenaline you amassed from the game.
That's when you hear them.
A couple of cheerleaders, just around the corner. You're not trying to listen, but your name — well, not your name, but their description was enough to know they meant you — caught your attention. Your movements halting and breath catching as you unintentionally eavesdropped.
"...I'm just saying, Cameron could have anyone on campus, and that's what he goes for?" A voice rang out before it was followed by a small, disbelieving laugh. Not exactly cruel, but certainly not kind either.
"Right? Like... I don't get it. Sure, she's pretty, I guess, but... she's big. Cameron Cade? Come on."
Your stomach drops at their words.
There was a pause for a second; all that could be heard was the light rustle of pom poms, then another voice, softer but sharper. "He's literally the star quarterback. He could have any cheerleader he wants."
"Exactly. Like, imagine him with someone that actually fits the image, you know? Not..." She trails off, but it seemed she didn't have to finish as her friend pipes up.
"Not her."
They both laugh, softer this time, like they're being polite about it. Like it makes it better.
You feel like throwing up at their words. Call it curiosity, or that you were just a glutton for pain, but you couldn't seem to turn away from the spot your body seemed glued to.
"I mean, it's probably not even that serious anyway," one added. "Guys like him don't settle like that. It's likely temporary."
"Right. It's just... a phase or whatever."
Temporary.
There it was again. That inexplicable feeling rising again.
After that, you didn't stick around any longer to hear more. You stepped back quietly, your prior excitement unraveling piece by piece, replaced with something heavier. Colder.
By the time you got outside and the night air finally hit your skin, you realised just how tight your chest felt. How small you suddenly wanted to make yourself.
Back at your dorm, everything felt still.
No roaring crowd. No bright lights. Just the quiet hum of your room and the echo of those words you couldn’t seem to shake.
You sat on the edge of your bed, staring at your phone. Your mind kept replaying everything. The way they said it so easily. Like it was obvious. Like everyone must have been thinking it.
You thought about him.
About the way his hand lingered on your waist. The way he looked at you when you were talking, like there was nowhere else he’d rather be. The way he didn’t rush out after, even when you expected him to.
But then again… he had never called it anything.
Your phone buzzed.
You flinched a little before picking it up to find that Cameron had texted you the address of the frat house party celebrating the home game win.
You contemplated your options: sit and wallow in peace or get dressed up and show the fuck out!
So here you were, standing outside the house with one of the girls from the lab, the bass thumping through the pavement, vibrating in the soles of your boots. Taking a deep breath, you adjusted your crop top, suddenly feeling exposed.
Before you could overthink, you were pulled up the stairs, the clack of your heels following each step. Stepping inside, the air was thick with the smell of cheap beer, expensive cologne, and weed. The sea of bodies looked almost like a blur as your eyes darted around the room subconsciously to find him.
As always, he stood in the living room, surrounded by his usual swarm of admirers as he held a cup in his left hand, his football jersey replaced with a plain white tee stretched tight over his shoulders, a graphic zip-up and his denim jacket. His gold chain glinted in the light as his head tipped back in a boisterous laugh at something that was said.
You watched for a moment longer with that gnawing feeling in your stomach because, in that moment, he wasn't just the guy who spent months pursuing you, who fucked you senseless in empty classrooms and cars. He was Cameron Cade. The star QB. The king of the campus. And well, you were just... you.
The distance between you two felt insurmountable. You turned away, heading towards the kitchen in search of something to dull the stint. You squeezed past a couple making out against the doorframe and grabbed a bottle of vodka from the counter, needing to cool down.
"You made it."
The voice was low, right against your ear, and you jumped. Before you turn around, strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you back against a solid, muscular chest. Cameron's chin rested on your shoulder, his weight grounding you even as it unsettled you. He nuzzled your neck, his hands splaying possessively over your exposed stomach, thumbs brushing right under the hem of your crop top.
"Yeah, well, you invited me," you utter, trying to keep your voice light, but your body stiffens in his arms.
He held on for another breath, then let you go, letting you move to pour yourself a drink. You felt his eyes on you the whole time, a weight you couldn't shake.
For the next hour, you drifted through the party like a ghost. You found your lab partner and laughed at something she said near the keg, but the moment you spotted Cameron moving toward you, you excused yourself to the bathroom. Later, you ended up on the back porch, pretending to be fascinated by your phone, and when he stepped outside, you slipped back inside before he could reach you.
The third time you were in the hallway, leaning against the wall, letting the noise wash over you.
A group of girls walked past, whispering and giggling, and you caught the tail end of their words: "...wonder what he sees in her..."
You felt your stomach drop.
And then a hand clamped around your wrist.
You looked up to find Cameron, his jaw tight, his eyes burning. Without a word, he tugged you down the hall, past the coat closet, past the back stairwell, until he shoved open the door to a small study room tucked away near the basement. The room was quiet, lit only by a desk lamp. A cluttered bookshelf lined one wall, and a worn leather couch sat against the other.
He closed the door behind you and locked it.
"Cameron–"
"What the fuck is going on with you?" His voice was low, controlled, but the edge was razor-sharp. He stood with his hands on his hips, his chest heaving. "You've been dodging me all night. Three times. Three times I tried to get to you, and you vanished."
You crossed your arms, looking away. "I just needed space."
"Space." He let out a humourless laugh. "You've been pulling away since the game. I'm not stupid. I know what people are saying. But I need to hear it from you."
Your throat tightened. "I'm not saying they're right, Cameron. But..." you paused, running a hand over your bare arms. "Look at you. I'm not exactly–"
"Not what?" He stepped closer, his voice dropping. "Not the right fit for a quarterback?" He stopped right in front of you, close enough that you could smell the whiskey on his breath, the warmth of his skin. "I don't give a shit about any of that."
"Cameron–"
"Let me finish." His hand came up, cupping your jaw, his hand came up, cupping your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "I've been chasing you since September. You think I didn't notice you the first time you walked into that lecture hall? I saw you. I saw those curves, that smile, the way you talk with your hands when you're excited. And I wanted you. I still want you."
You blinked back the burn in your eyes. "It's not that simple."
"It is." His forehead pressed against yours, his voice barely a whisper. "It's that simple. You're beautiful. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. Every inch of you drives me crazy. And I'm not letting some insecure bullshit take that away."
He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. "I love your body. I love the way your hips feel under my hands. I love the way your thighs press together when I touch you. I love the softness of your belly, the fullness of your tits. I love everything about you. Do you hear me?"
Your breath hitched. "I hear you."
"Good." He kissed you, soft and slow. With a tenderness that made your knees buckle. His tongue brushed against your lower lip, asking for entry, and you gave it to him. His hands slid down your sides, gripping the generous curve of your hips. pulling you flush against him.
When he broke the kiss, he was breathing hard. "I want to show you. Let me show you how much I want you."
You nodded, your voice lost.
He guided you to the leather couch, but instead of lying you down, he turned you around. His hands ran down your arms, your waist, before he pressed down gently against your lower back, guiding you forward. You braced your hands against the armrest, bending over, feeling exposed and vulnerable.
But his hand stayed. Warm and reassuring as he stroked the curve of your ass. He pushed up your crop top, baring your back, and pressed a kiss to your spine. Then another. Then another, trailing lower until he reached the waistband of your jeans.
"Don't move," he whispered, placing a final kiss before his hands moved to the front of your body.
He unbuttoned your jeans, tugging them down, along with your panties. The cool air hit your skin, but his hands were there a second later, gripping your ass, squeezing, spreading.
"Fuck," he breathed. "Look at you."
He knelt behind you, his lips pressing kisses to each cheek, his hands massaging the plush flesh. His tongue traced back up your spine, making you gasp, and he chuckled against your skin.
He stood, and you heard the clinking of his belt as he unbuckled it, then the rasp of his zipper as it went down. His hands found your hips, steadying you, and then the head of his cock pressed against your slick folds. He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, a deep, stretching fullness that made your mouth fall open.
"Oh, god," you moaned.
"Yeah," he groaned, his voice strained. "Feel that? Feel how good you take me?"
He bottomed out, his pelvis flush against your ass, and he stayed there, letting you adjust. His hands slid up your sides, under your top, cupping your tits, his thumbs brushing over your nipples.
"I love this body," he whispered against your shoulder. "I love how soft you are, how warm, how perfectly you fit around me. I could stay inside you forever."
He started moving—slow, deep thrusts that rocked your whole body. His rhythm was languid, almost lazy, his mouth pressing kisses to your neck and shoulder.
"Look," he said softly, nodding toward a dusty mirror propped against the bookshelf. You hadn't noticed it before, but now you saw your reflection: bent over the couch, your face flushed, your tits swinging with each thrust, his body covering yours, his face buried in your neck.
"See how beautiful you are?" His voice was a murmur, honey and heat. "See how well we fit?"
You watched, transfixed, as he fucked you slow and deep, his hips rolling against your ass, his cock glistening as it slid in and out of your pussy. Your reflection showed a woman lost in pleasure, her lips parted, her eyes half-lidded.
But then his pace changed.
He pulled, his grip on your hips tightening. "Get on your knees."
You sank to your knees, and he guided you onto all fours, positioning you so the mirror was directly in front of you. He knelt behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist as his cock nudged at your entrance.
"Keep your eyes on the mirror, baby," he said, his voice rougher now, losing its tender edge. "Watch how well you take me."
He slammed into you, hard and deep, and a cry tore from your throat. His right arm moved from around your waist to wrap around your throat from behind, placing you in a headlock, pulling your back flush against his chest, forcing your gaze to the mirror as he watched your eyes roll as his hips pushed into you.
"Don't look away," he growled. "I want you to see this. See what you do to me. See how perfect you are when you're being fucked the way you deserve."
His head drops to the crook of your neck as he bites down, pulling a broken cry from you. His hips snapped against yours, faster now, harder, his balls slapping against your clit with every thrust. The room filled with the sounds of skin to skin, og your moans, of his grunts, drowning out the bass of the music just behind the door. In the mirror, your body bounced with each impact, your face a mask of raw ecstasy.
"Look at that pussy gripping my cock," he hissed. "Look at how deep I am. You were made for this. Made for me."
Your arms gave out, and you dropped to your elbows, your ass still raised, taking every sharp thrust of his hips. He leaned over you, his chest pressed to your back, his mouth at your ear.
"I'm going to fill you up. Gonna mark your body. Make sure everyone knows you're mine."
Your orgasm built like a wave, cresting, ready to break, and you sobbed a broken version of his name.
"Fu- oh! I'm cumming!" You cried out, your eyes rolling back as your head lolled.
"Come for me, ma," he ordered, his pace frantic. "Come on my cock. Let me feel you."
Your orgasm came crashing down on you, your body convulsing, your pussy clenching and fluttering around him. He followed a moment later, a guttural groan ripped from his chest as he spilt hot, thick cum deep inside you, pumping through his release, grinding against your ass as he grunts with each thrust.
He stayed buried in you for a long moment, panting against your neck as he dropped his arm around your neck. Then he pulled out slowly, watching as his cum leaked out from your swollen folds, and he pressed a kiss to your shoulder.
"Never doubt this again," he affirms, his voice soft once more. "You're mine. And I'm not letting you go."
The study felt smaller now, the air heavy with the scent of sex and sweat.
Cameron pulled his jeans back up, zipped and buckled them, then reached for your hand. His fingers laced through yours, warm and possessive. He didn't say anything at first, just looked at you with that half-lidded, satisfied gaze that made your stomach flip.
"Ready to go back out there?" he asked, his thumb stroking the back of your hand.
You hesitated, thinking about the whispers, the stares. But his grip tightened, grounding you.
"Or we could stay here a little longer," he added, a lazy grin tugging at his lips. "I'm not opposed to round two."
You laughed, shaking your head. "Let's go."
He helped you fix your top, smoothing it down, then adjusted your jeans. His fingers brushed the welts on your neck — the marks he'd left — and he smirked.
"Good," he said, low and satisfied.
He unlocked the door and pulled you out into the hallway, his arm sliding around your waist, anchoring you to his side. The bass thumped louder as you climbed the stairs back to the main floor.
The party was still in full swing, but the moment you emerged, a few heads turned. Specifically, a cluster of cheerleaders near the kitchen island. You recognised them from the whispers earlier — the ones who'd wondered what he saw in you.
They went silent when they spotted you.
One of them, a blonde with a sharp ponytail, glanced at your neck, and her eyes went wide. Her friend nudged her, and soon all of them were staring, their mouths slightly open.
You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, but Cameron's arm tightened, pulling you closer. He pressed a kiss to your temple, loud and deliberate, before steering you past them.
"Hey, babe," he said, loud enough for them to hear, "you want a drink? Beer? Something stronger?"
"Whatever you're having," you managed, your voice steadier than you expected.
He led you to the keg, filled two cups, and handed one to you. The cheerleaders were still watching, their whispers now a murmur you couldn't quite catch. But Cameron didn't even glance their way. He just leaned against the counter, pulled you between his legs, and rested his chin on your shoulder.
"See?" he murmured against your ear, his breath warm. "Nothing to worry about. They're just jealous."
You took a sip, feeling the beer cool your throat. "You think so?"
"I know so." His hand slid down to the curve of your hip, squeezing gently. "Besides, they don't have my marks on them."
You snorted, nearly choking on your drink. "You're insufferable."
"And you love it." He grinned, his teeth grazing your earlobe.
For the rest of the night, he kept his arm around you. When you moved to the living room to talk to your lab partner, he stayed close, his hand resting on the small of your back. When someone challenged him to beer pong, he pulled you onto his lap while he played, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your thigh. When you danced — loosely, laughably — he spun you into his chest and dipped you, stealing a kiss before you could protest.
Every time he caught a cheerleader staring, he made a point of touching you. A kiss. A squeeze. A whisper.
And you found yourself relaxing into it, into him, into the warmth of his attention.
At one point, the blonde from earlier walked past, her eyes flicking to the dark marks on your neck. She opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, Cameron spoke.
"Hey, Stacey," he said, his tone light, almost friendly. "You see something you like?"
Stacey's face flushed. "Uh, no, I just—"
"Good." He didn't let her finish. "Because I do. And she's mine."
He turned back to you, dismissing her completely, and pressed a kiss to your forehead. You felt a grin spread across your face, helpless and genuine.
By the time the party wound down, you were leaning against him, tired and happy, his arm draped over your shoulders like a permanent fixture.
"Same time next week?" he asked, his voice teasing.
"Maybe," you replied, tilting your head to look at him. "If you're lucky."
He laughed, low and warm, and kissed you again — slow, sweet, in full view of anyone still watching.
"I'm the luckiest guy on this campus," he said against your lips. "And I don't need anyone else to see it. I already know it."
You walked out together, his hand in yours, the night air cool on your skin. Behind you, the party hummed on, but you didn't look back.
