#he's gotten very careful about cleaning and maintaining his ears and trying to make sure they never stay moist for very long

[canisalbus]

Currently suffering an ear infection and all I can think is how you said Vasco is prone to them. Does he get miserable and exhausted from the pain or is he more the type to get short tempered and cranky?

.

[bubbledumbbinch]

Thank you so much for doing my ask(>0<；)

I LOVED IT. I kinda have a thing for shy characters if you could tell. If you don't mind, can I request the same oral headcanons for Ruggie, Jamil, Jade and Rook this time? The one who look like the service tops? Thank you so much💕💕

Eek hello again! I’m so happy you enjoyed my last one!! I had fun writing it! Ty for the request again, I’m v excited for these set of characters. And, I like the shy ones too 🙈

ALSO THESE CAME OUT MORE LIKE SCENARIOS JKSDKJNDKNAK

A/N: This piece of writing is for 18+ readers only. Minors DO NOT INTERACT.

Warnings: Mild story spoilers for Episode 4 for Jamil(?) , mentions of blood for Jade, slight yandere for Rook 

NSFW UNDER THE CUT!

Ruggie Bucchi x Reader

Giving

Right so, it’s no secret that Ruggie is a real giver. He does so much work for Leona and is known for being giving in his community back home! He’s too sweet!

Ruggie playfully slaps your ass as you walk through the halls of NRC, making you gasp as you look around at your surroundings, making sure nobody caught him. Taking his squeezes on your body as a hint, he leads you to a hidden corner and starts to tease you more.

Ruggie also isn’t picky on location either, willing to find a hidden place around the school, a janitor’s closet, or an empty classroom. This man will please you anytime, anywhere.

The dirty blonde would definitely feel you up in preparation, knowing what spots to linger on, letting out his signature shishishi~ as he can hear you moan or feel you shiver at his fingers.

Ruggie pushes your form onto the door lightly, giggling at the way it rattled from the pressure. 

Pulling your pants down, the smell of your sweat from throughout the day, permeates his senses making his cock and ears twitch. It’s a dirty pleasure~

I can also imagine him saying “THANK YOU FOR THIS MEAL” before going down on you

Ruggie is aggressively trying to make you cum, he’s rough yet so good with his tongue, keen on hearing those sharp noises from your mouth.

When you get close, you put your hands on his head, rubbing his ears and giving him so many praises. He feels his cock twitch in his pants as he starts sucking on your clit with more fervor than before - making you squirt on his face

The beastman laps up at your juices as you ride out your high, eating up the flavors and the noises coming from you~

“Shishishi~ Y/N, you couldn’t help those lewd noises from coming out hm?” Ruggie teases, as he helps you put your pants back on. “Careful though, next time, I don’t want to risk having anybody else but me hearing those noises, okay~?”

Receiving

You and Ruggie are in his bedroom back at Savanaclaw, after a tiring day of him running errands for Leona. You praise him for his efforts and offer to suck him off to reward him for being such a good helper!

Ruggie is not used to someone offering to service HIM instead of the other way around, so don’t tease him for looking so shocked!

He blushes, asking if you’re sure you really want to. Internally there is some doubt as if he doesn’t know if you really meant it or if you were just joking.

Once he realizes you’re serious, he eagerly strips down to his boxers, letting the tent in his pants be all the more obvious.

You wanted to service the hardworking hyena boy as much as possible, stroking him through the cloth of his undergarments until you could see a dark spot on the briefs where the tip of his dick was.

Suddenly, you felt your hands moving on their own. You looked up as Ruggie was controlling your hands, making you pull his underwear off, as he couldn’t take anymore messing around. 

Eventually he lets control of you go, and he lets you bring his cock into your waiting mouth. He closes his eyes and lays into his pillow, groaning immediately.

After working his length in your mouth, he uses his hands to pull at your hair, his tail now wagging violently under him.

It doesn’t take long before he already starts to twitch in your mouth. As he gets closer, he asks to cum on your body, preferably on your chest

Ruggie lets out hot frequent pants as he releases, his ears twitching in delight as he paints your naked chest with his cum

He isn’t satisfied with one time, he is greedy and wants you to make him cum at least twice!

“Haanh- wow..! It felt so good, Y/N...” the blonde panted. He stroked himself back to hardness as he looked at his seed that served as art on your body. “Here, open your mouth, c-can you do it again for me? Please?”

Jamil Viper x Reader

Giving

Jamil has also been a giver for most if not all of his life. As we’ve come to find out, he isn’t extremely happy about being a giver and in turn putting himself and his desires after.

However, when it comes to you, Jamil wants to give you so much, at least as much as he can within his power. Nobody has cared this much about him romantically to a point where he can feel like he can be himself.

Jamil convinced to teach you how to make one of your favorite dishes of his in Scarabia’s kitchen, his hands grazing over yours as he stands behind you, fingers lingering over places all over your body, his touches ghosting over your ass. You hadn’t even gotten to the actual “cooking” part, only gathering the necessary ingredients and starting to cut vegetables.

Jamil’s offer to pleasure you with his mouth comes from him as he stands behind your smaller form, whispering in your ear about how he would love to taste you, making you whimper at the sound of his voice combined with his lewd words. You find yourself grinding onto Jamil, hearing a hiss leave his mouth.

After finding a clean table in the kitchen to set you on top of, Jamil makes sure to lock the door to the kitchen and make sure the coast is clear before he stalks back to your form with a mischievous glint in his eye, promptly pulling your pants down and licks up your clothed pussy.

Jamil moves the cloth to the side and skillfully uses his tongue to lick up and down your cunt, then directing his attention to flicking his tongue on your clit.

Jamil’s so good at this you have to wonder how many time’s he’s done it before, but a particularly hard suck at your clit is bringing your full attention back to him.

Jamil also knows how to use his hands, bringing his calloused fingertips from basketball practice and putting them to use on your nipples.

Maintaining eye contact with his dark eyes, Jamil works you up gradually to a slow but intense climax. He holds onto your legs as you squirm in front of him. You’re struggling to find something on the smooth table to grip onto so you bring your fingers to his head, feeling his smooth black locks in your grasp.

Only moans and slurping sounds can only be heard in the kitchen as you try to keep yourself silent. “Y/N...” Jamil’s liquid honey voice calls to you. “Let me hear those beautiful sounds you’re making, my jewel. Let me hear you scream out my name as you cum..!” was all you heard before losing yourself to the pleasure once again.

Receiving

Jamil was coming by to visit you at Ramshackle dorm after basketball practice. The way his tan skin glistened with sweat never escaped you, and your gaze trailed from his eyes, to his arms, down to his gym pants. His sweat seeped through his clothes and created multiple dark spots.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, Jamil was perceptive and smirked once he noticed where your gaze was at the moment, blush coating his cheek as he chuckled. He would never push you however to do anything sexual, if you didn’t want to.

Like Ruggie, Jamil would be a bit shocked about you offering to give him a blowjob. He knew you were bold but... the fact you were offering it to him and knowing who he was, what he’s done, and you still forgave him... Jamil is absolutely shocked but he feels a certain emotion that makes his heart feel warm.

He lets you take the lead as you both lay in bed, kissing him gently while stroking him through his pants. Every grunt and pant is like music to your ears.

You crawl down so your face is near his crotch, as you pull down his pants and free his member. After a few pumps and a very visible bead of precum comes to your attention, you stare into his eyes as you take him into your mouth.

Jamil releases a low sigh, as if he doesn’t want to be heard by a single soul. His expression can only be described as admiring as you bob your head up and down his cock, stroking what you can’t fit into your mouth in your dominant hands.

Jamil covers his face with his hood, cheeks visibly red and his hair splayed messily on your bed. Suddenly, he bucks his hips up when you tongue his head, causing you to moan in pleasure.

Jamil warns you of his incoming release, telling you to go faster. You answer his pleas and suck more of him and move your hand faster up and down his dick, causing him to groan loudly and release his hot cum.

You look up and see him staring down at you with piercing dark orbs, black bangs sticking to the side of his face as he’s panting heavily.

“Let me see it, my jewel. Open your mouth.” You obeyed Jamil and opened your mouth to reveal all of his cum on your tongue, allowing it to drip onto his limp cock. “Tsk, it looks you’re gonna have to clean this up now...” Jamil placed a hand on your cheek and lowered your head again, gently.

Jade Leech x Reader

Giving

Lord have mercy I’m boutta BUST

Jade notices how tired you are when you’re both working shifts in the Mostro Lounge, seeing how you stretch your back and move a bit slower than usual. He can tell you’re nearing the end of your multiple hour shift.

Once you’re both finished your shifts, Jade offers to lend you his bed to rest on. He smirks once you turn away hehe

While you rest yourself on his bed, you take off your blazer, scarf, and hat from your uniform. You close your and you hear Jade from across the room shuffling about - removing his shoes, the sounds of his clothes being placed into his closet, his steady breathing.

Jade was beautiful. 190cm of pure intimidation, yet he was always gentle and chivalrous towards you. His stunning eyes were unique and the way he smiled at you only served to send shivers through your body. Not with fear but exhilaration.

You moved your head to sniff at his pillow, inhaling his scent of light cologne and pressing your legs together under his covers. Suddenly you hear him leave the room and you take the bold liberty to remove your shirt and pants. If he finds you, you can just weasel your way into making him believe you were too hot, right?

After several minutes of imagining Jade’s presence and his scent, you nearly screamed when you felt a sudden dip in weight on the bed, opening your eyes to see Jade’s signature smile.

Once he rips off his sheets from your body, he smirks and trails his fingers lightly along your form - from your chest, your abdomen, then finally to the waistline of your panties.

Jade bites you lightly, on your plush thighs, drawing a bit of blood and licking the wounds, making you squeal.

“May I?” Jade looks into your eyes, voice as smooth as ever. After given the signal of approval, Jade removes your undergarments swiftly and gets to work on your leaking pussy, tongue changing paces on your clit.

After a few minutes, Jade eases off. “If you don’t mind, darling...” he simply mutters as he takes off his gloves and inserts his long middle finger into your hole, earning a throaty moan from you.

Jade feels his cock leaking from the actions and sounds coming from his partner - yet he only pays attention to you, focusing his energy on pleasing you.

It feels like electricity running through you as your orgasm rips through your body - you gripping onto Jade’s bedding as you still feel him on your pussy, slowing down his ministrations as you come down from your high.

“Oya oya~ what do we have here?” Jade whispers. “I could smell your arousal from the other room, darling. Have I been neglecting you?” He feigns sadness as he raises his eyebrows and licks his lips. “Don’t worry, I’ll service you soon so, please, allow me...”

Receiving

Jade was coming back to campus from one of his frequent trips to the mountains to gather some mushrooms. Some were questionable and some were edible, and Jade loved to find out which were which.

You offer to service Jade, teasingly, when he told you he was going to cook one of your favorite mushroom dishes for you with his fresh inventory.

“Oya? Don’t tease me like that, you’ll make me think you’re serious. Although, that would be nice.” He chuckled, patting your head. You huffed and started working on his pants, lowering them to reveal his still flaccid penis.

You started gently working on Jade’s length with your fingers, watching how the blood started to rush to it and make it harden. As precum leaked down his dick, you licked it from where it was on his length back up to his tip, taking him into your mouth.

Jade only offered a pleased “Hm.” as you started to move his girthy dick in and out of your mouth. You stared up to see his face, still the same expression as ever, but with a light blush across his cheeks. Were you not making him feel good..?

As if the eel merman could sense your feelings, he gave you firm praises telling you how good it feels and to keep going.

As you move faster, Jade starts meeting your pace by moving his hips to meet your mouth, chasing after his own release.

Jade makes light grunts and starts panting when he finally cums into your mouth, staring into your eyes. You swear his heterochromatic eyes glow, whether you have the lights on or not.

“Aah, darling... you were lovely.” Jade praises you and strokes your hair. “I wonder, how you’ll feel if you serviced me with your other holes...” Jade’s smile only grew as he bared his serrated teeth.

Rook Hunt x Reader

lord have mercy im boutta bust part 2

Giving

Rook Hunt is a romantic - he’s over the top, poetic, compliments you endlessly, gives you plenty of affection, what more could you want from a lover? Some may think he was too eccentric but you loved that about him.

You were in his room as he showed you his collection of photos. You knew Rook had a thing for taking candid photos of people, it was quirky and it made him unique! However, when you passed by a certain page, Rook quickly tried to take the album from you frantically.

After finally pulling it back, you open the next pages to see many photos of you from afar, close up photos of your clothed chest and photos of you in gym class, your shorts showing off your thighs shining with sweat. Around the photos were hearts on the photo covers and cute stickers.

Rook visibly grows embarrassed, furrowing his brows and looks away from you.

However, you take the opportunity to bring his chin back to face you, and plant a loving kiss onto his lips. Were you really not creeped out by him?! You already had a feeling Rook would have done something like this. In fact, the idea of him being so fixated on you only turned you on more.

“Mon amour... I’m sorry but you are so ravishing I could not resist.” Rook bites the bottom of your lip, making you gasp. He uses this opportunity to skillfully let his tongue slip into your mouth. Feeling the way his tongue moved over your tongue, you couldn’t help but whisper “I wish I could feel your tongue somewhere else, mon chasseur d’amour...”

Something inside of him awoke when you used what little knowledge of his mother tongue to speak so seductively like that. Swiftly, Rook lifted you from your position on your chair and brought you to his bed.

With your permission, he stripped you down fully naked to be able to admire your beauty. He sighed as his cock twitched in his pants at the sight of your nude form.

It feels like heaven once Rook’s mouth is kissing your lower lips. He moans into your cunt as he tastes your juices - making a show of his tongue working hard on your clit. Vibrations are sent from his throat through your body as he moans while sucking violently on your clit, making you scream in pleasure.

Yet, he doesn’t stop - after he notices you really love when he does that, he keeps going. Now, he slips a finger to your dripping pussy and uses his fingers on his other hands to play with your nipples.

The overstimulation has you screaming, panting his name and squeezing his head into your thighs. You’re cumming as a blubbering mess, only his name leaving your mouth as high pitched squeals.

“Ah, Y/N, mon amour...” Rook’s blonde locks stick to his face in a mixture of his sweat and your juices as he raises his head up. “You were amazing! I wish I could have recorded that so I could watch it over and over again... you won’t mind if I did that next time, right?”

Receiving

You and Rook hadn’t seen each other as often as you’d like, recently. Whether it was with his Science club’s activities, your assignment workload being too intense, or just misalignment of schedule free time, you felt down.

You missed your blonde lover and his affection. Therefore, you hatched a plan. You had ordered a bunny suit and ears and were waiting in his room. You admired the way your thighs and breasts looked in the suit, angled his chair towards the door, sat on it with your legs crossed, and waited.

After minutes that felt like hours, you heard his footsteps and humming from outside of his room. Opening the door, Rook stopped dead in his tracks as he caught sight of you waiting for him.

He dropped his backpack to the floor, closed the door, and practically dashed to where you were sitting, falling to his knees and kissing your pantyhose clad legs.

After a few heated kisses were exchanged from this position, you got up to lift the blonde up from the floor and push him to the chair you were just sitting in.

“Roook~ my love, I’ve missed you...” you whined, unbuckling his pesky uniform pants. “Let me service you today, mon chasseur d’amour~” he groans at the use of his self given nickname leaving your mouth.

Rook watches intently as you pull his pants down and kiss up his legs, stopping where his undergarments started. Gazing up at him with half lidded eyes, you took the fabric down with your teeth, causing him to breathe heavily and moan at the sight

You part your lips and lick his throbbing pink head, tasting the precum as you sink further down his length. Slowly, you bring your head back up only to come back down, sucking his cock eagerly.

Rook had a mirror on his wall that was, luckily, facing him so he could see the view of your back and the way your ass looked in the tight bunny suit you wore. He even fawned over the little tail that was on top.

Cupping his balls and stroking his cock with your free hand and your mouth, you could feel him twitch. Rook brought his calloused hands to entwine his fingers in your hair as he feels himself coming close to his orgasm.

Rook spits nothing but praises into your ears as he releases his seed into your mouth, listening to you gag lightly. You swallow his cum and he pulls you up high enough to kiss you, his greedy tongue tasting himself in your mouth.

“Mon amour, what a little trickster you are, no? I never expected to see you waiting for me... it’s like I got caught in your trap, oui?” Rook wiped his forehead of his sticky sheen of sweat. “My, bunny... you look like you’re in heat. Why don’t we take care of that together? I’ll help you this time...”

Anyways... 

[songbirdstyles]

when i kissed the teacher.

summary: the one man you want more than anything is the one man you can’t have - your english professor.

warnings: teacher/student relationship, age gap (implied), f receiving oral, whole lotta smut, whole lotta feelings, whole lotta angst

word count: 14.7k (strap in)

song inspo.: when i kissed the teacher - abba

There was something special about Professor Styles.

You knew it, and so did every other girl who took his class. Your less-than-appropriate feelings about him were shared and that should’ve made you feel better about having them - at least you weren’t as obvious as some of the other girls who obviously took a fancy to your English professor. You applauded their efforts, showing up to classes in short skirts and low cut tops in the hopes that they’d catch his eyes drifting down to their chests while he passed out your essays -

But they hadn’t had any luck yet. He was a very respectable man, and more than his looks, that was what you appreciated about him. He was passionate about English, with a curriculum that appealed to you from the very first day and essay topics that forced you to look deeper into every book that the class read. He was one of the youngest professors on campus and you could tell something about that seemed to motivate him - to not be seen as a joke by the older professors, to be taken seriously by the students, some of which weren't much younger than him.

You decided, after your very first class with him, that, in any other universe, you’d have fallen in love with him. Or perhaps tried to jump his bones immediately.

Something of that sort.

As classes progressed you found yourself only liking him more. His classes were as difficult as you’d anticipated and you should have hated it, hated how much work and effort you had to put into every assignment but you absolutely adored it. You loved doing his essays, loved the novels he picked, loved the look on his face when he handed back your assignments with a 100% scribbled on top.

Most of your assignments, at least.

It didn’t really make sense to you, why your 1984 analysis should have gotten a 71%. Truthfully, you’d felt confident while writing it - it was such an easy analysis that you’d decided to go a little deeper, spending more time on it than was necessary, because you were sure he’d be tired of reading the same essay from everybody over and over again. So you gave him something different and maybe you should have stuck to analyzing the same themes that everyone else did.

“If any of you are confused about your grade,” Professor Styles announces to the class when everyone has gotten their essays back, time left in class slowly ticking down, “please feel free to see me after class. M’happy to discuss any concerns with you.”

Perhaps you’re being paranoid, but you could’ve sworn you felt his eyes land on you.

Class ends within a few minutes and you take your time packing your things back into your bag, waiting until the last kid has trickled from the lecture hall before swinging your bag over your shoulder and making your way down to his office. The door is cracked open and he’s barely sat down at his desk when you knock, flashing him a smile before pushing the door open a bit more.

You clear your throat before saying, “Hey, um, sorry to bother you - ” he interrupts you, telling you that it’s no bother at all “ - I’m just kind of confused on why I did badly on this essay.”

He nods, motioning for you to come in, and you step inside before shutting the door behind you. His office is small and cramped, with bookshelves lining the walls and a couch pressed into the corner. It’s a good vibe, you have to admit, although slightly messy. Perhaps you’d describe it as cozy, and it seems to fit him well. 

There’s an empty seat in front of his desk and you sit down in it awkwardly, placing your essay in front of him. His eyes skim the first page before he tells you, “You usually do really well on essays, and this was … a really easy one.”

“I know,” you tell him, leaning forward to try and read what he’s reading. “I just thought you might be looking for something more complex. It seemed too simple.” When you look up, he’s staring at you, and you feel heat flood to your cheeks. “I don’t - I don’t know.”

“It really is that simple, I promise,” Professor Styles informs you, and he pushes your essay back to you. “But you’re one of my best students, and I don’t want to let this bring down your grade. So, I have an idea for how you can make it up.”

Your mind runs through all the ways you’d want to make it up to him - most of them involve you being on your knees, and you cough into your elbow. He doesn’t know what you’re thinking, but it doesn’t stop you from feeling embarrassed about it. Fantasizing about your professor from across the lecture hall is one thing, but you’re barely a foot apart from him now and you’re almost nervous he can hear your thoughts.

“I’ll do anything.” And you don’t care about the ways he could interpret it. He drums his fingers on his desk, and when you look down at his hand, you notice with a start that his nails are painted - you’d never seen that before, but you’d also never been this close to him, you suppose. You wonder if he gets them done or if he does them himself - you can’t picture him going to a salon, and the thought of him painting his own nails could make you cum on its own.

You don’t realize he’s been speaking until you zone back in, and when you look back up at him, he furrows his brows at you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry.” You shake your head. “Just - um - could you repeat that?” His eyes linger on you for just a beat too long, and your face flushes again. “So distracted,” he murmurs in a faux chastising tone, and your stomach flips. “What I said was that I’m willing to put this essay in as a 97 - your average for the class - if you would help me with grading some things. Not too heavy, maybe an hour or two after class. I’ve been falling behind with a lot of my classes and I’ve been looking for help, anyway, so it works out for both of us.”

Jesus Christ. Spending an extra hour every day with Professor Styles sounds like a recipe for disaster, and yet it also sounds completely perfect at the same time, and you’re nodding before you can fully process the pros and cons of the situation. “That sounds great. I mean, really - thank you so much.”

“S’my pleasure,” he informs you, giving you a large, dimpled smile. “So, after class, tomorrow - when I’m caught up and don’t need your help anymore, you’re off the hook.” 

“Got it.” you stand, grabbing your essay and your bag and making your way towards the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Tomorrow,” he echoes, and the last thing you see before you shut the door is him, bringing his hand up to wave you off.

 ---

 When class concludes the next day you maintain the same habit as you did the day prior - watching every student trickle out the door before swinging your bag over your shoulders, grabbing the two cups of tea that you’d made before class and making your way down to the front of the lecture hall.

Professor Styles stands in the doorway of his office, holding the door open for you - you make your way inside with a tight, only slightly awkward smile. His eyes roll over the two cups that you’re holding and he asks, with a mildly amused inflection in his voice, “I guess you like tea quite a bit, then?”

You smile, looking down at your cups, and when he shuts the door you hold one out to him. “I do like it a lot, but this one’s for you. You know, to say thank you for giving me a freebie, and also because you look like the kind of guy who loves tea.”

He laughs and your grin widens at the noise - god, it’s like music to your ears, and you would do anything to keep hearing it from him. He reaches out to take the cup from you and brings it up to his mouth, taking a small sip - when he’s done his tongue pokes out to lap up a bit of tea from his lip, and you try to ignore how much the minuscule motion affects you. “This is perfect, Y/N. Just the way I like it. You’re an angel.” Your cheeks heat up, and then he says, “But you don’t need to thank me. I’m probably gaining more from this arrangement than you are, truthfully. People are starting to get annoyed with how I’ve been falling behind grading, which is where you come in.”

Yes, you’d heard the girls next to you whispering about how bothersome it was that they’d submitted three essays in the past month and had only gotten one back. Why does he give out so much work if he’s never gonna hand it back? 

It didn’t bother you too much.

“Well - alright, then. You’re welcome for helping you grade,” you tell him, pulling out the chair in front of his desk and settling in, dropping your bag beside you. You take another brief moment to glance around his office, as though expecting something to change, but it’s the same distinctly messy, cramped office that it had been yesterday. At some point, you should tell him that he ought to clean out his space, but that’s not what you’re here for - yet.

Professor Styles nods, making his way to the other side of his desk and plopping down in his spinning chair - it was quite nice, and made you wonder why the one you sat in seemed to be falling apart at the seams. But, then, you supposed teacher salary didn’t leave room for spectacular seating. “See, that’s the spirit.” All at once, the casual discussion between the pair of you died as he dug in the drawers of his desk for something - and then he plopped a large stack of papers on the table between you both. “This isn’t all of them - not even close. You’re very smart, so this should be pretty easy for you. Just read through them, add any notes, things they need to work on, and look at the rubric for a final grade.”

You nod, picking the first essay off the top of the pile and reaching for a pen from the cup on his desk - it’s a coffee mug with the Rumours by Fleetwood Mac album cover on it, and you take a moment to marvel at it briefly. “You like Fleetwood?” you question, voice seeming unnaturally loud in the sudden quiet of his office. “Didn’t strike me as that kind of guy.”

He looks up, then, from where he’d already begun scribbling bright red notes into the margin of someone’s essay. His eyes trail down to the mug full of pens, and then back up to meet yours. “You seem to make a lot of assumptions about the kind of guy I am. What’s that all about?”

“Nothing,” you assure him, your voice faux sweet and innocent, and he smiles slightly. “But I’m glad you have an appreciation for really good music. I was worried your music taste would be terrible, and then I’d have to live with the knowledge that Professor Styles exclusively listens to Justin Bieber.”

Your professor rolls his eyes, smile tugging at his lips. “You know,” he begins, “you don’t have to call me Professor Styles. Not outside of class, at least. It sounds weird when it’s just the pair of us here.”

“Oh.” You pause. “What should I call you, then?”

“Harry’s fine.”

Harry Styles. The name flows easily off the tongue as you test it out in a teasing tone, your eyes meeting his as you do, and your cheeks flush. You don’t know if it's commonplace for professors to allow random students to drop formalities and call them by their first names but you’ll accept it anyway - all you know is that, when you go home tonight, the thought of calling him Harry will fill your mind until you can’t stand it anymore. 

Harry as he buries his face between your thighs.

Harry as he pounds you into the mattress.

Harry as he bends you over his desk - this desk - the one you’re sitting at right now.

You cough into your arm and pick up your pen, pressing your thighs together to try and alleviate the throbbing that’s now affecting your body. You should’ve known not to let your mind wander because you’ve barely been here for 15 minutes and you already feel like you need to go rub one out in the bathroom. But you pause - take a sip of your tea, though it’s nearly gone from drinking it so much in class - and get to work grading Brianna Valeria’s essay on Death Comes to the Archbishop. The rubric sits on the desk next to you and you bury yourself in your work - if Harry notices the sudden silence that’s overtaken you, he doesn’t mention it.

For the rest of the hour, the pair of you work in silence. It’s comforting and surprisingly not awkward, and occasionally you ask his opinion on something one of his students wrote in their essays, but the playful banter you’d had before has dissipated. You’ve finished your tea and you suspect he has, as well, with the way he’s been feverishly drinking it.

“Oh,” he says, suddenly, and you glance up from where you’re in the middle of scribbling red notes into the margins of Alexander Simmons’ essay. “You should probably get going.”

One quick glance down at your phone proves that he’s right, and you rise from the extremely uncomfortable seat you’ve been perched in for the hour - you can practically hear your butt crying in relief. “Thank you so much for the tea,” Harry tells you, handing back his cup, and it’s empty, like you expected. “And - um. You don’t have to call me Harry if it makes you uncomfortable. Just thought it would be less formal, but if you don’t want to, it’s fine.”

Ah. He took your silence as you being uncomfortable calling him Harry. Well, it’s better than him knowing just how wet the sentiment made you, but you shake your head immediately. “No. No, I prefer calling you Harry. You’re right - it’s weird when it’s just us.”

He grins at you, then, standing up from his seat and stretching his arms over his head. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, then, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“You know, if I’m calling you Harry now, I think you should drop formalities too. Make it equal.”

“Okay … Y/N. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Harry,” you tell him, turning and walking out of his office with your phone in your pocket and two cups in your hands, blissfully unaware of your abandoned bag still sitting next to the terribly uncomfortable chair you’d been all too quick to leave.

 --

 It’s only when you’ve finished the trek back to your dorm, the sun beginning to lower down into the horizon, that the absence of your bag on your shoulder becomes prominent.

You can’t get into your building without your key and your key is in your bag and your bag is … back in Harry’s office, where you nearly made yourself cum just thinking about him. And the thought of having to go back across campus, back to his office, when he might not even be there, is not favorable, but you need your key and you need to bang out homework tonight, so with a soft groan you spin on your heel, walking away from the warm comfort of your building and making your way back to his.

As summer bled into fall and fall begins to bleed into winter, the weather has changed so drastically in just the past week or so that you tug your cardigan closer to your body, but the air that seeps through the holes in the crocheted sweater send goosebumps trailing up and down your body. The wind whips your face and brings tears to your eyes that run down your cheeks, and when you’re finally at the door of Harry’s building it’s a welcome surprise to walk inside, allowing the warmth to embrace you - even if the shock of the changing temperatures causes your eyes to water again.

His office is on the 2nd floor, so you pull open the door to the staircase and make your way up the two flights. Most professors have gone home for the day, classrooms dark as you speed past them to where you know his office is. 

His office is dark and your heart sinks at the sight - there are a few posters pinned to the small window, but you can see the lack of light clear as day. Your hand grasps the doorknob anyway, turning it without any hope that it would open - but then it was, giving you access to his dark office, and by the seat you’d occupied later you can make out your bag.

A breath of relief escapes your throat as you take a step inside, reaching down to swing it over your shoulder before turning to leave. And then you hear it - a small breath, an indicator of someone else in the room, and you whip around to look back around at the office.

Oh.

Harry sits in his chair, face buried in his arms, fast asleep. His hair is messy and in front of him sits the stack of essays you’d been working at early, hardly any smaller than when you’d left. It would nearly be an adorable sight - your professor, passed out at his desk - but it just seems concerning, and without thinking you’ve leaned over the desk, placing your hand on his shoulder and shaking him slightly.

“Professor?” your voice is soft, barely audible, and you speak louder when you say, “Harry?”

He doesn’t respond, so you say, louder still, “Harry?”

Then he stirs slightly under your touch, and you drop your hand from his shoulder as he lifts his head from where it had been resting on his arms, looking up at you with messy eyebrows and a thoroughly confused expression on his face. “What - what are you doing here?” Jesus. His voice is deep and raspy, sounding as though he’d been sleeping for ages instead of merely less than an hour, and if his present state wasn’t slightly concerning to you, you know that you’d feel the effects of his words between your thighs. But you pause, staring down at him, before asking, “What are you still doing here?”

“Just working on some grading.” He runs a hand through his hair, looking around the darkened office with an air of distinct confusion.

“With all due respect, Harry,” you tell him, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “I think you’re burning yourself out. You should go home.”

He hesitates, and then questions, “Why are you here? I thought you left -”

“I forgot my bag,” and you hold it up to demonstrate it to him. “Are you going to go home? I’m serious - you need a break. And to sleep on a bed.”

“I’m fine,” Harry says, and he stands up from his chair. It moves back and hits the wall with a soft thud that goes unnoticed by both of you. “You should go home, too. I need to finish some stuff up. I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.”

To neither of your surprise, you don’t move from your spot standing before his desk. You cross your arms over your chest, digging your sneakered toe into the plush rug on the floor of his office - you hadn’t noticed it before, but it’s pale blue and bright against the mahogany floors. The brief silence between you two, daring either of you to speak, fills the confined space and all you can hear is the ticking of the clock behind you, and finally you say, “You’re not going to get anything done when you’re exhausted. I mean, you fell asleep on the essays. How are you going to explain why there’s drool on their assignments?”

He gives you a tight lipped smile in response, looking down at the essay he’d been working on as if to check that no saliva had landed on the words. “You caught me at a bad time. I don’t usually fall asleep on top of student essays, I promise - but you should be heading out now. It’s getting dark.”

It is getting dark, he’s right - the window behind his desk shows the darkness that newly falls over the campus. And the thought of walking home in the dark scares you just a bit, but you’ll suck it up if it gets him to go home too. “Harry.”

“Y/N.”

“I’ll help you grade tomorrow. But you’re fucking yourself here -”

(Harry laughs at your choice of words internally, but it comes out as a small release of air and a soft grin.)

“ - so come on. Walk out with me so I can make sure you’re actually going home.”

Perhaps he’s realized he’s fighting a losing battle here, because finally he looks back down at the stack of ungraded essays with a small sigh and then says, “Fine.”

“Great.” Your grin widens across your face, and for a moment you make to hold out your hand to him, to drag him along like you would to any of your friends - but the second your hand raises you drop it down to your side, and heat burns your cheeks. He’s not one of your other friends, you tell yourself, stepping out of his office, hearing him walk behind you. And you can’t hold his hand, even as a joke.

“Where’s your dorm?” Harry asks you as he locks the door to his office and jiggles the handle to check it, and you jump at the chance to forget about what happened - you don’t want to dwell on it. “Is it far?”

“Across campus.” You raise your arm and point in the distinct direction of where your building is. “Closer to the cafeteria, I guess.”

“Christ, you have a trek, then, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” The pair of you make your way to the staircase, and from the corner of the eye you can see his head turning left and right down the hallway, as if scanning to see if there’s anyone coming - you can imagine it wouldn’t be great for him to be seen with a student long after classes ended. “I had to haul ass there and back to get my bag.”

He doesn’t respond for a moment, not until you’ve left the warm building and made your way into the cold air, the sun now having retreated for the night, and immediately you wrap your sweater tighter around yourself to try and provide some semblance of warmth. Harry glances down at you with a bemused smile, and you hoist your bag further up your shoulder.

“Well,” you sigh, breath coming out in white puffs. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Don’t burn yourself out, professor. And get a good night’s rest.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Shouldn’t I be telling you that?”

“Maybe.” You grin, feeling goosebumps sprout on your skin, and you shiver before turning in the direction of your dorm - the thought of walking home in the dark and cold doesn’t sound too great, but you’ve become good at dealing with it. “Goodnight, Harry.”

He doesn’t respond, and you’ve taken a few steps away when he calls out, “D’you want a ride?”

What?

“Y’know, like a ride back to your dorm. I can drop you off in the back - it’s just really cold and I’m sure you don’t want to walk so far in the dark.”

You turn back around to look at him, his cheeks a light shade of pink - whether from the cold or his offer, you can’t tell. And you’d love to jump in his car, accept his offer without a shadow of hesitation, but - “Is that allowed?”

Harry shrugs, and you know that’s code for absolutely not. “No one has to find out.”

(Your stomach drops, then.)

“Sure.” You take a few steps back towards him, and he spins on his heel, leading you to his car, and you walk in silence until you reach it. By the time you’re both safely in his car - his head turning every so often to check if there was anyone watching the pair of you - you’re shivering desperately, and you know you would have been positively miserable walking back to your dorm in these temperatures. “Thank you so much, Harry.”

“S’no problem, really.” His hand goes behind your seat as he turns to look behind him, and you hate the way the simple action makes you feel. “I’d rather know you get home safe than have you walk so far in the dark. Pretty girl like you, can never be too careful.”

You pause, cheek pressed against the cold window, and turn to look at him with a small smile. “Ooh, I’m a pretty girl now?”

“Wasn’t the point, Y/N,” Harry mutters, dropping his hand onto the center console, and if it were anyone else driving you like this, you’d rest your hand on top of his, intertwining your fingers and pressing your palms together. But he’s your professor, as much as you’re beginning to wish he weren’t, so you slide your hands beneath your thighs. “Which building, again?”

“McKinley,” you respond, voice barely louder than the sound of the heat blasting into his car. 

His car smells like eucalyptus and mint, and it’s surprisingly clean compared to his office - you wonder if his house is messy or clean, or a balanced mix, because you can’t quite catch a vibe for whether he’s organized or not. But, no - you’ll never see his house, surely. You can’t. 

“I used to date a girl who lived at McKinley,” he tells you, and you exhale slowly. You can tell he’s merely trying to make conversation but the sentiment isn’t making your internal conflicts any easier to manage. “Real nice dorms.”

“They’re alright.” In fact, you’ve been at university for 3 years and resided in 3 different dormitories and they’re your least favourite, with furniture that’s too big for rooms that are too small and bathrooms that can hardly fit more than 5 people, but you don’t tell him that. “Not the greatest.”

“S’what she told me, too,” Harry says, and you smile down at your lap, but you can’t find anything else to respond to that, so you take to gazing out the window.

Within a few seconds he’s slowing down, and you can recognize the back entrance to your building. You reach down and pick your bag off the ground, digging through it to find your key.

When you have it clutched in your hand, you unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to look at him - to your surprise his eyes are already on you, and you swallow thickly. “Um - thanks for driving me.”

“Don’t worry about it.” 

You hesitate a moment before turning and swinging open the car door. You hop out and, just before you can shut it, he says, “Y/N.” And when you duck your head back into his car, raising your eyebrows, he adds, “Please don’t tell anyone I drove you home. You’re right - s’not allowed.”

“Alright.” Then, before you can help yourself, you flash him a wide grin and say, “Thanks for letting me be the exception, then.”

With that, you shut the door of his car, bounding up to the door of your building, and you swear you can feel his gaze remaining on you before his car drives off, and when you turn back around, it’s gone.

(In the back of your mind, you’re entirely too aware of the fact that merely sitting in his car crossed some sort of line that you didn’t know existed until now, but you don’t really know how far past it you are - not yet.)

 --

 “I have a question.”

You look up from the rubric you’d been working at - the student whose essay you’re grading hadn’t done too well on it, but you were trying to give them the most points you could, anyway. Harry’s looking down at his essay like he hadn’t spoken, but when he feels your gaze on him, he continues. “Why did you care so much? Yesterday. Me grading more s’less work for you to do. I feel like you should be loving that shit.”

It’s a reasonable question but, for a moment, you struggle thinking of how to answer it without exposing yourself to him. Finally, you give him a grin and say, “Well, if you were sleep deprived, it would make you mean.” He chuckles softly, and you can tell that’s not the answer he wanted, and it couldn’t have been further from the truth. So you add, “I guess I’m used to being the mom friend. Making sure all of my friends get a good night’s sleep and whatever.”

Harry pauses. “So we’re friends, then.”

You shrug, trying to stop the smile from peeking through onto your face. Being friends with Harry sounds positively dreamy and if it could segue into something else - whichitcan’t - you’d be the happiest girl alive.

You nod. “Yeah, aren’t we.” But it isn’t a question, and you can see the way his eyes twinkle at your response.

After a moment, you shift in your entirely entirely entirely too bloody uncomfortable chair, the wood making your butt ache. “I have a question, now.”

“Yeah?”

“Why’d you pick the most uncomfortable chair you possibly could for your guests to sit in?”

“Gets ‘em out of my office quicker.” Harry glances up and meets your glare with a laugh. “But I don’t want you to leave, so you can move to the couch, if you’d like.”

You hop out of the chair without a second’s hesitation, clutching your essay and your pen, flopping down on the couch and feeling your body weight sink into it. God, it’s so soft and your body relaxes into it, the relief of not being confined to the small, wooden chair so magnificent you could scream. Harry watches you with an amused grin, and says, “I feel like you’re being just a bit dramatic here.”

“Me? Dramatic? Never.” You sprawl yourself across the couch, head atop of the armrest, staring up at the white ceiling tiles above you. “I’m telling you, Harry, that chair is terrible. You should burn it.”

“So dramatic.”

You roll your eyes, sitting up slightly so you can rest your paper on your lap and still manage to scrawl semi-legible notes on this person’s piss poor essay. You wonder, briefly, if this is how Harry felt when he’d graded your 1984 essay, but - well - doesn’t matter now. And you’d fail that essay a thousand times over to get to this point, a point of companionship with your professor that you’re not sure any other student has felt with him before. At least, none that he’s told you about. It makes you feel special, and spectacular, and also the tiniest bit confused.

Why are you so special?

Maybe he’s lonely, or he’s merely entertaining your presence because you’re helping him grade, but you swear you can feel something more hidden within the lines of your relationship.

It doesn’t really matter, though, even if it is just a tad confusing.

“You should get going,” Harry tells you after another 15 minutes of you working at grading the essay. “You’ve been here for nearly two hours, bloody hell, wasn’t watching the time at all.”

“I don’t mind,” you say, though, in truth, you do have quite a bit of homework to work on later. “Don’t really have anything else to do.”

You sit up anyway, swinging your legs over the edge of the couch and stretching your arms above your head. Tiredness is beginning to affect you but you try not to let it.

“Well, in any case, you should be heading out now.” Harry nods his head towards the window behind him, the blinds pulled up so you can see the sun, nearly completely sunk below the horizon, the sky fading from reds and oranges to a dark shade of blue.

“What about you, professor?”

“What about me?” “You’re going home now too - right?”

He looks at you with a faux annoyed glare, but he can’t help the amusement from seeping through his features, and finally he breaks your stare with an exhale of breath. “I don’t think I’ll ever win this against you, will I?”

And you shake your head in response. “Never. So let’s go. Get your things.”

You take the next five minutes to gather all your stuff - resting the essay on top of his desk, sliding your phone and water bottle into your backpack, and zipping your bag shut - as Harry grabs his computer bag and his key. The two of you move surprisingly in sync with each other, sorting all of your stuff from around his small office, before making your way outside with him locking the door behind him.

It’s nearly completely dark, even colder than it had been the day prior. You reach behind you and pull the hood of your sweatshirt over your hair, protecting your ears, at least, from the chill.

You turn and face him, giving him a wide smile. The air is silent around you, surprisingly empty though the bitterness of the cold must be a contributing factor to that. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Professor. Make sure you get a good night’s rest -”

“Don’t want a ride?”

Your grin widens, and his eyes sparkle, even in the darkness, at your expression. “Well, of course I do, but it’s rude to invite myself into your car.”

“You’re not inviting yourself - I’m inviting you. Or, rather, demanding you. C’mon.”

Harry walks fast and you have to speed up your pace to keep up with him, though you suspect that has something to do with wanting to be free of any wandering eyes as quickly as possible. You recognize his car in the parking lot and bound ahead of him, standing by the passenger side door and wrapping your arms around yourself to try and warm yourself up, and for a moment his pace slows as he stares and looks at you. Standing by his car, holding an incredibly oversized hoodie tight to your body, a wide smile gracing your face.

“Staring is rude, professor,” you inform him as he shakes his head, unlocking his car and climbing into the driver’s seat. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that?”

Your lilt is teasing but you can tell it makes him slightly defensive either way.

“S’hard not to sometimes,” Harry tells you, and you giggle softly.

“So first, I’m a pretty girl, and now I’m hard not to stare at?” You drop your head back against the headrest, blowing air softly out of your mouth as you reach to buckle your seatbelt. “Keep this up, Harry, and my ego’s gonna be too big to even fit in your car.”

Harry laughs at that, resting his hand on your seat to back out of his parking spot. The radio softly plays some pop song that had been overtaking the charts recently, and you hum softly to it before turning your head to look at him. You examine his side profile - perfect, like every other angle of him - as he pulls out of the parking lot, making a left out of it.

He turns to see you watching him, and you watch redness bloom over his cheeks. “Staring is rude, Y/N.”

You smile, about to parrot his previous words back at him - it’s hard not to - but you bite your tongue, gazing at the road in front of you. A light drizzle is beginning to fall, a barely audible pitterpatter on the windshield, and that’s the only noise, for a moment - that and the radio playing, like a thought in the back of your mind.

The drive to your dorm seems to be taking longer than it had been yesterday and you can’t imagine why, but you appreciate just sitting in the car with him. Even if you’re not saying much, listening to his even breathing calms you.

You want to break the silence, though it’s comfortable rather than awkward. You like talking to him, like hearing everything he has to say, but you have no idea what you can possibly tell him that wouldn’t seem forced and awkward. So you sit, curling your legs up to your chest as you stare at the streets, and entirely too soon, the back of the McKinley building becomes apparent.

You want to stay in his car forever. Want to stay with him forever.

“Thanks for the ride,” you tell him, your voice sounding uncomfortably loud in the soft car. He nods in response, but for a moment neither of you move. You can’t bring yourself to leave yet, even if you know you have to, that he might have someone waiting for him at home.

“Y/N.” You turn and look at him, your eyes meeting his with your brows furrowed. “Uh - if you ever want a ride home, or to class, you can just let me know. Text me.”

“I don’t have your number.”

Harry’s cheeks are bright pink and there’s too much tension in the car, so thick you feel like you could cut it with a knife, and you lean down, unzipping your bag and pulling your phone out.

He takes it from you once you unlock it, going into your contacts and you watch as he types his phone number in, adding the contact name as Harry S. and you think you’ll be changing that later. He leaves the contact photo blank, which you expected - if anyone saw the name Harry S. in your phone, the contact photo would give it away.

He hands your phone back to you when he’s done, and your fingers graze his when you take it. “Just text me, then. If you need a ride.”

“Alright.” you give him a smile, unbuckling your seatbelt and pushing open the car door. “Thank you, Harry. Really.”

“My pleasure,” he says, and you grab your bag, hooking your arm underneath the strap and racing up to the back entrance of your building. It’s only when you get inside, the door firmly shut behind you, that you turn around again, and his car is gone.

 --

 10:52 PM

Y/N: hey professor...it’s y/n. just wanna make sure u have my number saved in case of emergencies

Harry S.: How is it you can have the highest grade of any student in my class and use improper grammar while texting?

Y/N: it’s a talent i guess

Y/N: texting like you’re writing an essay makes ppl v uncomfortable, and i speak from personal experience

Harry S.: So you’re uncomfortable right now, then?

Y/N: nooo, ur different

Harry S.: To quote this girl I know, ‘thanks for letting me be the exception, then.’

Y/N: how did u remember that? that makes me uncomfortable

Harry S.: Haha.

Harry S.: You should be sleeping right now. Students need their full 8 hours, don’t they?

Y/N: so do professors, as i keep telling u, but…

Y/N: i had hw to do, also had to make mac n cheese for dinner

Harry S.: You can do your homework in my office, you know. And then you can probably make it to the refectory for dinner.

Y/N: the food at the refectory sucks

Harry S.: Yeah, you’re right.

Harry S.: But I do feel bad that staying to help me grade made you have to stay up until 11 doing homework.

Y/N: well honestly i’d rather be sitting in ur office talking to u than in my dorm doing american lit work

Harry S.: Why’s that?

Y/N: ig i like hanging out with u

Y/N: u should feel honored btw

Harry S.: Believe me, I do. And now you should get to bed so you’re not grumpy tomorrow morning.

Y/N: ig i deserved that… and i’ll only go to bed if u do too

Harry S.: I will.

Y/N: promise??

Harry S.: I promise.

Harry S.: Goodnight.

Y/N: goodnight, professor

 --

 After a week, your arrangement has changed slightly.

Every day, you spend just a bit more time in his office. Then he drives you home, in comfortable silence, and from the minute you step into your dorm, you’re fishing your phone out of your bag to text him. Every night that you lie awake, texting him until you physically can’t keep your eyes open, the line that you’ve been dipping your toe across falls back even more.

The stack of assignments that need to be graded are beginning to dwindle, and you hate it. Hate to see the pile of ungraded work getting smaller and smaller, because when it’s gone, you probably won’t step foot in his office again.

Truthfully, and as embarrassing as it may be, Harry has become one of your closest friends at school. He’s funny and nice, and he brought you hot chocolate with powder left unmixed at the bottom after you mentioned that’s how you used to like it when you were younger, and he plays music on his phone at a low volume while you work on grading. 

Of course, as your friendship with Harry grows, so does the burning feelings for him that reside in the pit of your stomach day after day. And you know he doesn’t feel the same - he can’t - and maybe that’s painful for you, only slightly, but you’ve become rather talented at hiding those emotions. He can’t know that, everytime he laughs at one of your jokes, your heart swells - and everytime he reads a sentence from one of the essays out loud, using a mocking, deep voice, it makes your stomach flip.

You don’t know if you’ve ever felt so passionately about anyone, and that’s scary. Scary to think that the one man you want more than anyone else is the only person you can’t have.

“Y/N,” he says, and when you look up at him from your spot sprawled on the couch, he’s nibbling at the tip of his pen. “D’you think this makes sense?”

And he reads you a few lines written by one of his students - a name you recognize from being in your class, you think, but you’ve been paying attention less and less to other students during lectures. All you focus on is Harry, his booming voice projecting through the hall as he talks about the stories you’re reading, and every so often his eyes meet yours and the smile that spreads across his face could bring tears to your eyes, if you let it.

“Um - I guess. It’s worded kind of strangely, don’t you think? But I’d cut them some slack on it.” Harry nods and scribbles something in the margins of Nathalie Carron’s essay before flipping the page. “Can I put in a song request?”

He nods, then, picking up his phone from where it sits on his desk. The Chain plays softly, not too loud to interrupt your train of thought, but not too soft that you can’t hear it. “‘Course.”

“Heroes by David Bowie.” You glance back up at him, dropping Hannah Joseph’s essay on your stomach. “You like Bowie, right?”

“Who doesn’t, is the real question.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” You grin, glancing up at the white tiled ceiling as the song fills the hair, replacing Fleetwood. “You know, we should make a playlist for grading.”

Harry laughs. “A playlist of just Fleetwood and a dash of Bowie?”

“No, no. It can have other stuff, too. I mean, we know what we like.”

“Alright, alright.” He picks up his phone again, and you see his thumbs moving feverishly on the screen. “Y’know what, I’ll make it right now and show it to you for approval.”

“Make it good.” You pause, picking your essay up again. “No Justin Bieber.”

He snorts, and you relish in the noise.

The next ten minutes passes in mainly silence - when Heroes ends, Fleetwood continues, playing Secondhand News, and you hum to the tune. Harry’s ringer is on and you can hear it, the sound of the keyboard on his phone as he searches up song titles, and you rest the essay back on your stomach, writing messy notes with the pen you snatched from the mug on his desk again.

You sit up, suddenly, leaning over to rest Hannah’s fully graded essay on his desk, and instead of reaching for a new one to work on, you push yourself to your knees, resting your palms on his desk and attempting to lean over and peek at the playlist. But he anticipates that - he knows you’re nosy - and tilts his phone towards him, intercepting your attempts to eavesdrop.

“Don’t be impatient,” he murmurs, a smile tugging across his lips as he scrolls through something. “I’m almost done.”

You hum in response, dropping back down onto the couch, stretching your entire body across it, head resting on the armrest. The two of you settle back into a comfortable silence - he’s paused the music, by now - lasting only a moment or two before he stands up from his insanely comfortable chair, maneuvering his way around to the couch where you’re lying. He crouches down next to you, handing you his phone, opened to a Spotify playlist, and you greedily snatch the device from him, flicking through the songs.

Your eyes scan every song, absorbing every song title.

I Walk The Line by Johnny Cash - My Eyes Adored You by the Four Seasons - Your Song by Elton John?

Love songs. Every single one of them.

You push yourself up, sitting leaning against the armrest, as your eyes fall on the last song of the playlist - When I Kissed The Teacher by Abba. You lower his phone to your lap, looking at him with a slightly confused smile adorning your face.

He watches you intently, your heads a mere few inches apart, then reaches down to grab his phone off your lap, and you laugh lightly before saying, “it’s a lot of love songs.”

“They reminded me of you,” he tells you, voice quiet, testing the waters.

“They - they did?” It doesn’t make sense to you - doesn’t make sense that 45 love songs should bring you to the forefront of his mind, that every single time he hears Fooled Around And Fell In Love he should think of you. 

They make you think of him, though. 

And without thinking - of what you’re doing or of the consequences - you lean in, closing the short distance between your faces, pressing your lips against his so softly that it feels like it’s a mere breath on your mouth.

Harry pulls back, lips barely a centimeter from yours, exhaling softly. “We shouldn’t.”

You hum in agreement, already leaning back in. “No, we really shouldn’t.”

Your lips meet again and his hand goes to your face, cupping your jaw, and when he deepens the kiss you whimper into his mouth, bringing both of your hands to the back of his head. Your fingers bury themselves in his curls, tugging on the chocolate brown strands, and he groans softly into your mouth.

It’s everything you’d imagined and more, as the hand not on your cheek drops down to your waist, pulling your body closer to his. The angle is awkward - you sitting on the couch and him kneeling before it - so you unattach your lips, much to your dismay, and swing your legs around the edge of the couch so he’s situated between them. Harry’s eyes are wide, his hair mussed up, and you lean back in without a moment’s hesitation to resume the kiss. His tongue brushes against yours, and he tastes like mint tea and fucking heaven.

Both of his hands go down to your waist, tugging you to the very edge of the couch so your bodies are as close as they can be, and yours go to the back of his neck, dipping underneath the collar of his button down shirt to scratch at his back. It feels muscular, more toned than you were expecting, and feeling the skin underneath your nails makes you moan into his mouth.

“Fuck -” you groan softly as he moves his lips down your chin and to your jaw, nibbling softly at your skin, as if experimenting to see what you like - your reaction prompts him to move further down, licking a stripe down your neck and to the base of your collarbone. One of his hands - very large hands - slide up to cup one of your breasts, squeezing the mound of flesh through your tight shirt. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Harry hums against your collarbone, pressing open mouthed kisses across your skin. Your nails dragging down his back causes him to bite down gently to stifle the moan rising from his throat, but you hear it and Goditspursyouonsofuckingmuch. “God, Y/N -”

His praise is cut short by the sound of three swift knocks on the door - he pulls back from you, nearly falling back on his ass with the speed at which he stands, and your eyes flash to the door. Your heart is pounding desperately in your chest - are the doors soundproof? Did someone outside hear you? The thought makes you sick to your stomach, and your eyes meet Harry’s to find the same worry in his orbs.

Within moments he’s back behind his desk, running a hand through his hair to try and smooth it out, and you’ve reached to grab Hannah Joseph’s essay off his desk just as he calls, “come in!” in a voice that’s far too cheery for the panic that had just overtaken the both of you.

The door opens and from the corner of your eye you can recognize the girl who walks in - she lives across the hall from you, and her name is … Anna or Emma or something similar. She’s nice, and you should remember her name, but your brain is so scrambled that you can’t think of it.

Harry kissing you. Harry making you a playlist. Harry’s hands on your waist, pulling your body into his.

It’s everything you’ve dreamt of since the beginning of the semester, feeling his touch on you. And when you close your eyes, you try to imagine what would have happened if nobody knocked on the door, and it sends a shiver down your spine that doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry, sitting at his desk as he looks over Anna-or-Emma’s essay.

You can’t be here. You shouldn’t be here. The girl (who, now that you think of it, may be named Alana) is asking Harry a million bogus questions about the essay requirements he’d just given out and her shirt is so low cut that you’re surprised her boobs haven’t fallen out. Whether that was intentional or not isn’t something you dwell on, but something about sitting on the couch, trying to steady your breathing while your clit throbs violently feels wrong.

“I’m gonna go, professor,” you say, interrupting her question, and she looks at you like you just told her you’re going to give her a million dollars. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Y/N,” Harry calls as you grab your bag and shut the door behind you. His voice sounds pained, almost, as though he doesn’t want you to leave him alone with a girl whose only goal is clearly to fuck his brains out. You practically run down the hall, which isn’t close to being as empty as it usually is when you and Harry leave at the end of the day. 

Your shirt is tight and short sleeved and you can picture your jacket, up in his office, thrown over the back of the couch. You’d been in such a rush to leave that you’d left it, and you’re beginning to truly feel the consequences of it as the cold corners you, attacking your skin, and you could go back up to his office and get it but you just want to go home. The sun is setting, and it’s earlier than when you usually leave.

The walk home is decidedly miserable, the wind sending tears streaking down your cheeks, and your mind is practically going into overdrive. Jesus Christ. You kissed your professor, and he kissed you back. And then you left, like a fucking idiot. He probably feels terrible - feels like he violated you, or ruined his career. But he hadn’t done anything wrong, not really. If you were more respectable you’d go back to his building and apologize for running out, wrap your arms around him and kiss him like you fucking mean it, but all you do is scan your card to get into McKinley and walk down the hall to your dorm.

Your roommate is out - at her boyfriend’s, as per usual, but you appreciate it. Truth be told, you haven’t seen her much since the first few weeks of the semester, but she seemed nice enough. You drop your bag onto your bed and collapse on top of the covers, gazing up at the ceiling.

You bring your hand up to your mouth, brushing your fingertips over your lips with the same feather light touch that the first press of Harry’s lips to yours had felt like. You can still feel it - feel him - if you close your eyes, his hands grasping your hips and his lips trailing down your collarbone.

Slowly, you press your palm to your stomach, trailing it down your torso until you reach the button of your jeans. You undo it with shaky fingers and push them lower down, beneath the hem of your cotton thong, and the first brush of your fingertips against your clit sends a shiver down your spine and a whine falling off your lips.

Harry’s hand on your chest, squeezing your breast through your shirt as he kisses down your neck - oh my god, licking down your neck, biting your skin, his eyes are so wide, his hair is messy from where you grabbed it, and you hadn’t been interrupted he would’ve climbed on top of you, pressing you into the couch, tugging your jeans down your thighs and -

Maybe he would’ve done what you’re doing now, sliding his digits into your heat, fingers longer than yours, hitting every spot that you need him to. Or maybe he would’ve slid down your body, lifting your shirt to suck a deep purple mark into your chest, before burying his face in your cunt -

A very loud moan falls from your lips as you push a finger inside of yourself, curling them immediately to hit the spot inside of you that makes your tummy flip.

But maybe - just maybe - Harry wouldn’t have bothered with that. Would’ve watched, breathing so heavy as you unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his nice dress pants to wrap your hand around his cock, throwing his head back and moaning as you swiped your thumb over the tip of him.

You’re so close so fast you can practically taste the orgasm creeping up on you, your hips bucking up to meet where your fingers are feverishly rubbing circles on your clit.

And he would’ve slid into you, and he’s so big that he’s stretching you out more than any of your fingers or the guy you’ve been with, and he’d grab your chin and force your head up and kiss you so fucking hard, his hips flush against yours -

With a strangled cry, you curl your fingers once more and then you’re cumming, release coating your fingers as your hips roll into your hand. All you can think about is him and what could have happened, and the fact that you may have ruined the start of something magnificent, but God if the orgasm wasn’t good.

You pull your hand out of your panties, wiping your dripping fingers on the denim of your jeans. For a moment, you merely stare back up at the ceiling, focusing on steadying your breathing, and then you stand up, kicking your jeans off your legs and tossing them onto your dresser. You have a pair of plaid pajama pants crumbled in a pile at the bottom of your bed from the morning, and you pull them over your legs with a sigh. Perhaps it’s not the height of cleanliness, but they’re soft and comfortable, and you lie back down on your bed once they’re on.

After nearly an hour, you still haven’t done anything but sit and do nothing, occasionally flicking through your phone. You wish you could fall asleep but your brain is working far too fast to even think about resting, and -

The sound of your phone getting a notification startles you, and you groan, grabbing your phone to look at whoever disturbed your panic.

Harry S.: I’m behind your building. I have your jacket.

He’s here? Jesus Christ, you just came over him and damn near cried over him and now you have to see him.

Perfect.

Your heart skips a beat, and you jump up without a second thought. You look an absolute fool, stuffing your feet into the first pair of shoes you can find - a pair of slip on Vans that are so dirty they can barely constitute as white - before you’re running out the door, your phone tucked in the waistband of your pants, heading down the hall and out the back entrance where Harry’s black car sits, waiting.

You walk up to his car, pathetically out of breath, and lower your head so you can see him through the window as he rolls it down.

“Hi.” Your tone is quiet, and you clear your throat. “Um, I’m sorry about running off like that. I just got overwhelmed and that girl showing up made me - um - nervous.”

“It’s fine,” Harry says, though he’s very pointedly not making eye contact. “M’sorry if I crossed a line. I shouldn’t have kissed you like that, or -”

“No, I kissed you first -”

“But I’m your professor.” He says the word with an odd inflection, nearly pained. “I shouldn’t have let it escalate. I’m sorry.”

You dig the toe of your shoe into the road, looking down at the passenger seat where your jacket sits, waiting. The tension is palpable and you swallow thickly, then grab the car handle, forcing the door open so you can grab your jacket. You wrap the fabric around your shoulders - the seat heaters made it warm and you could nearly cry at the way it embraces you.

Harry watches you - you can see him from the corner of your eye - and then he looks down at your body, your shirt and your pajama pants with no pockets, and asks, “D’you have your key to go back in your dorm? S’just, you don’t have any pockets … I can’t see it.”

Shit. No, you don’t. You hadn’t thought about that when you were running out to see him. Perhaps he can decide the answer from the way your face drops, because he exhales with a small smile, barely perceptible, and nods his head. “Get in.”

You grab the door handle again, pulling the door open and climbing inside. The seat is toasty and warm and the car is toasty and warm and altogether you feel like both of those adjectives combined. The radio plays softly - or maybe it’s his phone, hooked up to the aux cord, because Maybe I’m Amazed by Paul McCartney is a song you recognize reading on the playlist he’d made.  You slam the door shut and wrap your arms around yourself, holding your jacket closer to your body, before turning your head to glance at him. He still hasn’t started driving, merely gazing at you, and you feel your skin heat under his eyes. “Where are we going, professor?” It’s a stupid question, because you aren’t going anywhere yet, and he doesn’t look like he plans to start driving anytime soon.

“I’ll take you back to my apartment.” HIs eyes haven’t left yours, and your stomach turns. “How does that sound?”

You exhale softly. “Sounds perfect,” and then you’re leaning in, pressing your cold palms to the side of his cheeks and bringing his face into yours.

Your lips meet and it’s more desperate than it was in his office - teeth clashing and your tongues brushing against each other, as if he’s trying to devour you. His hand rests atop of yours, dwarfing you pathetically, before dragging his fingertips down your arm and up to your shoulder, fingers dipping beneath the sleeve of your shirt.

Where you’re cold from the air outside, Harry is so warm and toasty, his breath hot against your face when you pull away briefly. He presses his forehead to yours and then leans up, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose and smirking at the whimper you let out.

“Wait,” he tells you, voice low and quiet, and you nod slowly. “When we get to my apartment - but not now.”

You nod feverishly and sit back in your seat obediently, desperate for him to finally start driving. His hand rests on top of the center console and you stare at it for a moment - you can do it, do what you’ve wanted to do every single time he’s driven you home - and you place your palm overtop of his. He turns it over so your palms are pressed together, fingers intertwining, and you’re sure he can hear your heartbeat with how loudly it’s beating in your chest.

The line that you’ve crossed is so far behind you that it’s a mere dot in the distance. 

The car ride to his apartment is short - only 2 full songs play during it, and you recognize My Girl and I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight from the playlist. Truth be told, it feels as though you’d been in the car for hours and hours, his thumb rubbing circles into the back of your hand. You want nothing more than to crawl across the center console and straddle him, kiss him until you’re both breathless and go as far as you’d fantasized about but you have to wait.

 --

 Harry’s unlocking the door of his apartment entirely too slow for your liking. It’s as though he’s trying to tease you, make you antsy, when all you want is for him to press you against the wall and kiss you silly. 

He lives in a large brick apartment building - one of the newer ones, you know - in an apartment on the third floor. You’ve passed his building so many times driving through town and you never even knew it - didn’t know the man who lived there was someone you’d be so desperate for.

“Come on,” he whispers, though there’s no real reason for the two of you to be quiet - perhaps it just fits the mood. Harry’s hand wraps around your wrist as he tugs you into the now-open door of his apartment, flicking on the light switch residing beside the door. 

As light floods the apartment you’re somehow both surprised and also not at all. It’s surprisingly tidy, resembling more of his car than his office, and - to your relief - it’s quite obvious he’s the only one who lives here. You slip out of your Vans and take a moment to look around. A cat sits on top of the couch (her name is Marie, named after Aristocats, you learned from class) and you can’t stop yourself from gravitating towards her, using two fingers to stroke down her back as you peek around the apartment.

Yes, it is quite clean, and surprisingly colorful - there’s a striped rug and red couches and your eyes fly a bookshelf filled with picture frames against the wall. One is him with four other guys, arms wrapped around each other - one of him and Marie - one of him, significantly younger, hugging a girl who looks extremely similar to him.

“Is this your sister?” you ask, unaware of where he is in the apartment but trusting he hasn’t strayed too far from you.

“Yeah,” he responds, and you jump slightly. Harry stands just behind you, and when you turn to face him he’s fighting back a grin. “So nosy, aren’t you?”

You raise your arms to wrap around his neck, pulling his head down to yours as his hands gravitate down towards your lower back where your shirt rises just a couple inches from your pants, exposing a strip of skin, and his touch sends a shiver down your spine. “I guess I am nosy. Can’t help it.”

Harry leans down, then, pressing a kiss to your forehead and down the bridge of your nose before landing on your lips - you whine into his mouth, pushing yourself onto your toes to try and deepen it, swiping your tongue into his mouth. It’s so different than before - heavier, deeper, and you can’t get enough of it.

“Please,” you whimper against his lips as his hands creep farther down your back, landing on the globes of your ass through your soft pajama pants. “I need you.”

“Oh, yeah?” You can hear a sense of cockiness working its way into his voice and you groan softly as he pulls away from you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “What do you need, baby? Tell me.”

You need everything. You need everything he can possibly give you and more - you need wish fulfillment of everything you’ve dreamt of since the start of the semester and that includes every single goddamn appendage on his body put to use somehow.

But you can’t possibly begin to tell him that, not yet. His fingers are already trailing down to the waistband of your pants, tugging at the tie that holds them up when you breathe, “Your mouth. Please, I need - I need your mouth.”

It’s not enough for him, you can tell, as he leans down to press a kiss to the side of your throat, sucking softly. “M’using my mouth.”

“H - Harry …”

“Where d’you want my mouth?”

You curse beneath your breath, and he pulls his head back to raise his eyebrows at the sound. You bury your hand in his hair, tugging lightly on his curls, before squeezing your eyes shut and muttering, “Want your mouth … down there.”

As much as you want it - and Godyouwantitsofuckingmuch - it makes it no less awkward to say it out loud.

“Down where, baby?” Harry asks, voice teasing and so fucking smug. “Down here?” His hand sprawls across your stomach, pressing down on your abdomen and you moan softly. “No … down here, s’that right?”

His hand slides down to your cunt, pressing his palm overtop of you through your pajama pants and you’re so wet you’re sure he can feel it even through two layers of fabric. Your throaty cry in response and the feverish nod of your head confirms what he’d been teasing you about, and Harry delivers one last soft kiss to your lips before dropping to his knees before you.

Fuck. You never thought you’d see Professor Harry Styles, the man of your dreams and the one person you considered to be entirely unattainable, kneeling in front of you with his nice dress pants on and a crisp button up shirt. He looks entirely normal, save for his messy hair and lust blown pupils, and you’re sure you look a bloody mess but his eyes still devour you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

You drop your shaky hands down to the tie of your pants, undoing it at record speed, and he hooks his fingers in your waistband. Slowly - so slowly - Harry tugs them down and his eyes remain on you as though expecting you to stop him, but you can’t. Finally they pool by your feet and you lift your legs to kick them off, sending them flying near the couch where Marie resides.

Had you known this would be happening perhaps you would have opted for racier panties - your cotton thong isn’t terrible but it certainly isn’t doing you any favours, and you have so many lace ones at home that would have been perfect for the opportunity - but Harry still looks at you like you created the world. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh and then the other, leaning in to suck a dark purple hickey into your skin.

You suppose he has a thing for hickeys.

Your fingers twist in his curls, trying to direct his head up to where you truly need him, and he chuckles softly - the soft exhalation of air makes you whine as it hits your cunt, even through your panties. A soft kiss is what he lands on your clothed clit, and your hips buck up into his mouth. You’d forgotten, perhaps, that you’d had an orgasm less than an hour prior but you’re very swiftly reminded, and he looks up at you with a smirk.

“So reactive,” he murmurs, wrapping his lips around your clit through your underwear and sucking softly. “Just the way I like.”

A shaky breath escapes your mouth as you toss your head back, legs shaking and you can’t expect them to hold you up much longer. One of his hands moves to the back of your thigh, kneading your skin softly, and the other dips into the hem of your panties and slowly tugs them down. You’re so wet that the fabric is desperate to stick to your dripping cunt but he manages to roll them down your legs, face to face with your pussy and -

Heat floods through your body and up to your face as you look down and make eye contact with Harry. Now that he’s down there, gazing at your bare pussy, you feel oddly compelled to protect whatever modesty you have left and shut your legs but then he grabs one of your legs and throws it over his shoulder, pushing you back just a bit until your back smacks into the wall, and leans in.

The first stripe he licks up your core sends a choked cry from the back of your throat and then a long whine as Harry focuses his attention on your clit. His tongue flicks the swollen bud, still rubbing circles into the back of your thigh. Your heel digs into his back as he moves one hand up to your cunt, running his finger through your soaked folds before pushing it inside of you.

He curls his finger, mimicking a come hither motion until he brushes against the spot that makes your hips jerk against his face. Harry’s lips wrap around your clit and when your eyes roll back into your head, he takes his hand off your thigh and snaps his fingers.

“Look at me,” he demands, voice muffled against your cunt, and the vibrations roll through your body like an earthquake. “I wanna watch you fall apart. Look at me.”

Slowly you lower your eyes back down to him, meeting his gaze as he pulls his mouth away briefly - smacks his lips - and pushes a second finger into your dripping heat. As he thrusts them in and out, hitting that sweet spot in your velvet walls, you can feel your orgasm building in the pit of your tummy embarrassingly fast, but you want to hold out for him. Want to prolong this as long as you can.

Harry’s teeth brush against your clit and you cry out, barely hearing the way he groans, “So fucking reactive for me, yeah?” but you can hear it and it only makes you moan louder. His tongue draws patterns over your clit and he’s so determined to maintain eye contact but you can tell it’s a struggle for both of you.

He pulls his fingers out of you, licking a thin stripe up one of them as if he can’t get enough of your taste before reaching his arm up so his fingers rest on your bottom lip. Obediently you open your mouth, accepting his digits and swirling your tongue around them, tasting yourself on his skin, as he leans back, glancing up at you with heat blazing in his eyes.

“You’re close,” he tells you, his voice deep and throaty. “Can feel it - feel how you’re clenching around my fingers, baby. D’you wanna cum? Tell me how fucking bad you want it.”

Harry pulls his fingers from your mouth and presses them to your clit, rubbing a slow circle as you struggle to find your voice before gasping, “Fuck - need to cum so fucking bad Harry - Harry, oh my god -”

“Yeah? Gonna cum for me?”

“Yes! Oh my god, H - Harry -”

“Cum for me, baby.”

He leans in, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking and that’s all you need to topple over the edge, the orgasm that had been building in the pit of your tummy finally exploding. Your head falls back against the wall with a thud that’s hardly audible over your loud shrieks and moans, your leg finally giving out and you damn near slide to the ground before Harry hooks an arm around your thigh to keep you upright.

His tongue flicks at your clit gently, riding you through your orgasm, and when you’re coming down from your high it’s all you can focus on. There’s a high pitched ringing in your ears and you don’t think you’ve ever - ever - cum that hard in your life. You’d only been with one guy before who didn’t even know women could orgasm and your fingers never gave you anything so earth shattering.

Your breathing comes out in desperate pants as Harry rises from his knees, moving both hands to your hips as your legs nearly collapse again. Your clit is throbbing and when you press your body to his, leaning up to kiss him so desperately, you can feel his boner, hard against your thigh.

“Holy shit, professor.” It’s all you can manage, pulling away to drop your head against his chest, using the moment to try and steady your breaths. “W - who knew you were so good at that.”

His fingers brush through the ends of your hair, a gesture so sweet and innocent that it could make you forget what just occurred. “A hidden talent, I guess,” he mutters, gripping your chin to kiss you again.

You drop your hands to his waist, gripping his nice button down shirt in your tight grasp, surely wrinkling the fabric as you roll your hips against his. Even through his pants his hard on feels fucking huge and you’ve only been with one guy before and suddenly you’re wondering if he’ll even fit inside of you.

But you’ll try. By god, you’ll try. And you press your head to the wall, looking up at him with lust dilated pupils. “Harry.”

“Tell me what you need, baby.” But he already knows, and you can tell he needs the same thing.

You swallow, bucking your hips forward against his boner, and he groans. “I want you to fuck me. Please. I - I need you to fuck me, professor.”

The word makes him moan aloud, and within barely a second he’s grabbing your wrist, tugging you away from the wall and across the apartment until he’s swinging open a door and pulling you inside.

Something about being in his bedroom is entirely different than being in his living room, the carpet beneath your bare feet plush and soft. There’s a large television in front of his bed and the bed is made beautifully, a flannel blanket tossed over the end, and you can’t fucking wait to mess it up.

Harry spins you around to face him, attaching your lips once more as he shuts the door. You whimper into his mouth as his hand drops down to your bare bum, squeezing the flesh in his large palm. “Sorry,” you murmur, voice high pitched and breathy, “was nosing again -”

He groans as you drop your hand to the front of his fancy dress pants, trying desperately to undo the button with one shaking hand. It’s a struggle and finally he chuckles breathlessly, dropping both hands down to help you with the task, and finally you reach your hand into his trousers and press your palm against his cock, hot and heavy even through his boxers.

“Bed,” he grunts, backing you up until the back of your knees hit a hard edge and you fall backwards onto his plush duvet. He stands above you, breathing heavily, and for a moment you stare at each other, as though processing that this is happening - and the moment picks up again. Harry reaches down and tugs at the bottom hem of your shirt, pulling it up and off your body and sending it into the corner of the room. Your bra is lace, at least, and decidedly prettier than your panties, and for a moment he stares down at your chest with a look of pure lust adorning his face.

“You look a bit flushed, professor,” you tell him, voice faux innocent and sounding entirely more confident than you feel. “Are you feeling okay?”

Harry chuckles through gritted teeth, and you push yourself onto your elbows so you can work at the buttons of his shirt as he tugs his pants down his legs. “I’ve never been better, in fact.” His boxers are flannel and you can see the bulge in his boxers, and it’s even bigger than what you’d expected.

Your work at undoing his buttons slows down as your mind suddenly flips into overdrive - you must wear the worry that suddenly overtakes you because Harry leans down, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“When’s the last time you’ve done this?” he questions, voice soft and spun sugar sweet.

“Um -” you try and think. The last time you’d done this you’d lost your virginity and that was - “A year ago. Maybe longer.”

Harry nods, nudging your nose with his and giving you one final kiss before rising back up. His hands replace yours as he works on unbuttoning his shirt. “I’m going to go slow, baby. I promise.”

In every fantasy you’ve had about him, he’s not slow - he’s fast, pounding you so hard the bed is nearly louder than the noises you make - but now that you’re here with him? Maybe you need slow.

You nod, and he smiles down at you. He presses his hands onto the mattress and then snakes them beneath you, fingers working at the clasp of your bra, and you lift yourself up slightly so he can undo it and slide your last piece of clothing off of you. He sends it into another part of the room and you can’t be bothered to focus on it because - Christ! - all of a sudden Harry lowers his mouth to your breast, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples and sucking.

“Fuck!” you gasp, fingers working themselves into his curls. Your fingernails scratch at his scalp and he moans lowly against your skin. Harry lifts his head off of you, pinching one of your nipples so you cry out.

He lifts one leg to rest on the bed and then grips your hips, pulling you closer to the edge. Your legs instinctively spread and he watches you, breathing heavily. “Baby,” he mutters, hands slipping his boxers down his thighs. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

Heat burns your cheeks and you shut your eyes.

“Look at me,” Harry tells you, and it’s all you can do to obey. “Want you looking at me while I fuck you. Can you do that?”

You nod, swallowing as he grips one of your calves and hikes it onto the bed, exposing your sensitive, dripping cunt to him. You look down your body, where he’s grasping his achingly fucking hard cock in his hand, and then he drags the tip down your slit with a low hiss.

“Are you ready, baby?” he asks, voice soft and strained, as if he’s holding back and you know he is. But he needs this to be a good experience for you so it can be good for him and that’s what you appreciate.

“Y - yeah.” you push yourself onto your elbows and your eyes meet, maintaining perfect eye contact as he pushes himself inside of you. He’s going achingly slow and -

The stretch aches and you drop your head onto the mattress with a groan, Harry’s hand immediately finding your hand where you’re grasping the duvet feverishly. He bottoms out, fully sheathed in your warm cunt, a low groan piercing the air at the feeling of your walls, tight around him. It hurts - not as much as you’d expected, and the pain that quite literally fills you overtakes the burn.

You squeeze his hand, feeling his other run up and down the inside of your thigh as you adjust to him. “Oh - my god - wait - just - just one second wait one second -”

“Of course,” he breathes, and his voice is shaky with an emotion you can’t quite decipher. “T - take your time, babygirl.”

After a few seconds you push your head up to look at him, nodding slightly. “Okay. I need more, p - professor.”

You can tell he likes when you call him that and in some weird way you love it too - love knowing that the professor everyone lusts for is fucking you, slowly pulling out before thrusting back in, squeezing your hand when you cry out at the feeling. Maybe you’re not the first student to experience him like this but based on his demeanor you think you are - there’s something about him in this moment that feels like a secret you’ve discovered.

“Oh - fuck -” Harry grunts as he moves his hand from your thigh to your hip, pressing your body down with just enough force to limit your movements. It’s paining him, going so slow, you can tell - and you’re already starting to need more from him. You need him to go faster, and with a breathy moan you tell him.

Slowly his pace picks up, his grip on your hip tightening until you’re sure there’ll be fingerprint shaped bruises on your skin by tomorrow morning. With every thrust he fills you up so completely that every perfect spot inside of you is hit just right, and you never knew it could feel this good.

Every noise of his that tears through the bedroom spurs you on, pushing your hips into his to deepen every thrust. And every time you whine or whimper or cry or anything Harry delivers a harder thrust, fucking you so deep that you can feel it in the pit of your tummy.

“God, p - professor,” you moan, the word falling entirely too naturally off your lips even in your heightened state. Harry throws his head back with a high pitched whine, speeding up his pace until the loudest noise in the room is skin hitting skin. “Holy shit - fuck - I’m gonna - gonna -”

“Gonna cum around my cock, baby?” He hisses, pressing the hand that had once resided on your hip into the mattress, gripping the covers tighter so he can rail his hips into yours desperately. “So fucking tight around me, can’t even fucking stand it -”

Your hand, shaking beyond belief, slides down to rub hard circles into your clit. The sensations on your clit and his cock, rutting against your G spot with every thrust, sends you over the edge again - already so overstimulated from the rather intense orgasm you’d had before - and with a loud cry-bordering-on-scream you’re cumming again.

“Fuck!” you moan, hips bucking up against his as you ride out the waves of your orgasm. “Fuck, Harry, oh my god -”

He’s not far behind you, hips stuttering ever so slightly but he wants to bring you to one more orgasm, securing this day as the best fuck of your (admittedly limited) sex life and he can’t cum yet. Your hand falls back onto the mattress and Harry pulls his clammy hand from yours, bringing it down to replace your fingers on your clit, and immediately you clench around his cock, begging incoherently for something - you’re not sure what - as he presses down on your clit hard.

Your eyes roll back into your head as his cock twitches inside of you, and grunts and moans are flying from Harry’s mouth faster than he can control it. Your walls flutter around his dick, his thrusts slowing to lazy pumps in and out. He’s so fucking close, he just needs one more push and then -

Your fingers wrap around his wrist and he looks down at you, your eyes nearly black with desire, tears streaking down your cheeks. “C - cum in me, professor.”

It’s the final straw for Harry, and with a nearly animalistic cry he sheathes himself fully inside of you and cums so hard so fast, it’s nearly violent, and the feeling of warmth that explodes in your cunt sends you into your fourth orgasm of the night -

It’s less intense than the others but still entirely too prominent and when you’ve finally rode out the last wave you collapse against the bed, your head spinning and your legs aching as Harry presses it back down from where it had been perched up.

Harry collapses on top of you, his body suffocating and hot and sweaty and you wrap your arms around him, your desperate attempts at steadying your breathing filling the room. You’ve never cum so hard and so much and you’re fucking exhausted, truthfully.

He lifts his head, gazing down at you as you run your fingers through his tangled, sweat soaked curls. “How was that?”

You exhale with a smile upturning your lips, beginning to feel his cum dripping out of your pussy and down your thighs. “Jesus Christ,” you murmur, and a grin breaks onto his face as he drops his forehead against your shoulder.

The two of you lie in silence for a moment - no words need to be spoken. Harry shifts the pair of you further up the bed, your head crashing onto one of his pillows as he remains, firmly on top of you, like he never wants to leave.

But you can’t stop yourself from asking the question burning through your mind, and you swallow thickly before mumbling, “Harry -”

He hums softly.

“Is this like - a one time thing?”

His head lifts again, chin pressed to your shoulder blade, eyebrows furrowed. Harry takes a moment to respond, though, lifting his hand to trace a line across your jawline to your lips, and you press a soft kiss to the tips of his fingers when he arrives at his destination. “I don’t think so,” he tells you, and his voice is quiet and vulnerable, as if waiting for you to deny him. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone.”

You smile softly, leaning in to press a kiss against his soft lips. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“‘Course, baby.”

The name makes your tummy flutter, and you think you could listen to him call you baby for the rest of your life. “I’ve dreamt of this,” you tell him, lips merely a centimeter from his. “Since the beginning of the semester, every night.”

Harry raises his eyebrows at you, and you giggle at his expression. “Glad to know I’m not the only one.”

You shut your eyes, then. Rest your head on his pillow, feeling warm with the man you adore pressed on top of you, his arms firmly and protectively wrapped around you. Nothing has ever felt more right to you, and you drift off to sleep with a soft smile still gracing your lips.

[after-witch]

Thanks For Your Donation! [Yandere Shigaraki x Twitch Streamer Reader]

Title: Thanks For Your Donation! [Yandere Shigaraki x Twitch Streamer Reader]

Synopsis:  request, “Please I love that troupe where Shigaraki gets obsessed with a twitch stream and deluded himself into believing they’re together until he finally takes her home 🥰”

notes: yandere, kidnapping mention, creeper

Shigaraki glances down at the notification on his phone and his chest suddenly feels tight, anxiety blooming across his skin which makes him want to scratch, scratch, scratch. Your Twitch is live again--fuck, he can’t miss it.  He rapidly presses the save button on his Switch, impatient to devote his entire attention to his phone screen--to you.

But fuck, do you make it hard on him lately. You stream so much more now that you’ve gotten followers, gotten popular; donations have become a regular feature rather than something surprising, but those other guys, the ones who flash big donations and write insipid comments, aren’t really fans of yours. Not like he is. He’s been watching and donating and praising you since you were a nobody, a nothing streamer with barely 10 viewers per stream.

That was back when you used to just play games with your cheap little pink earbuds and your messy room behind you. When you used to feel more real, used to express yourself more openly. 

You stumbled over words and reacted naturally, which meant you were boring--or you would be boring, to someone that didn’t know you like he did. Sometimes the small circle of viewers would dwindle down to just Shigaraki and you’d talk to him, only him, replying to his chat messages with earnest honesty. Smiles. Jokes. It was so goddamn cute. He always donated one last time before signing off for the night and you would curl your fingers in a heart and cheerfully bid him good night.

But now that you’re getting big, you’re more polished, more presentable, more popular. And less… like you, he thinks.  You cleared out some little room just for your gaming streams and you have a nice headset now, a background that he can tell you carefully set up to create just the right vibe. You don’t have time for one-on-one convos with your viewers, because your streams never dwindle down, never fizzle out until you’re left awkwardly signing off. 

They’re full-fledged productions, now, whether you’re gaming or doing a Q&A or--these have become one of his favorites--doing a cute yet clearly rehearsed “sleepy morning” stream in your pajamas, picture-perfect coffee in your hand, where you muse about life and love and strawberry pancakes.

It’s cute, he admits, but it’s also too rehearsed. He misses the real you, the real personality that you used to let shine through when hardly anybody was watching. You would only show the real you for him, but now that he’s just one amongst a crowd, you keep yourself protected. He understands. You have an image to maintain, after all. 

It’s even changed your gaming habits. Now when you game, you react so dramatically, bordering on ridiculous. You would never scream at a horror game before--sure, you might cringe, or admit that your heart is pounding like a hammer, but you weren’t cartoonish. But it’s what those losers watching want--they want you to open your mouth so big when something scary happens in a game so they can screencap it and imagine you’re opening your mouth to do something… else. They want you to scream girlishly at jump scares or dramatically fawn over cute guy characters. And of course, they want you to react when they donate--they want to hear those sweet little words: “Thank you sooo much, you’re my number one fan!”

It’s your new little catch phrase, something you’ve integrated into every stream now. It’s even in your intro--“Hello, all my number one fans!”  It’s an in-joke now between your followers. All part of your brand.

Shigaraki knows you don’t mean to hurt him by calling other guys your number one fan. But it does. But it’s okay. He doesn’t hold it against you. He knows that you don’t really mean it, when you’re saying it to them; he’s smart, he can tell the difference in how you react to his donations versus the donations from the absolute shitheads who watch your streams. 

You mean it when you call him your number one fan. It’s the only way he can get you to say his name, now that you’re too busy to really respond properly to the chat. And it’s fine, really, nothing to get too upset over. Because when you finally meet in person, he’ll explain that he’s the only number one fan that you’ll ever need.

He jumps into the stream, annoyed at having missed the beginning, but what he sees on the screen instantly melts away any emotion other than pure adoration and obsession. You’re very… pink today. A pink oversized sweater and pink cat headphones and even glossy pink lipstick that makes your mouth look like candy. 

None of the freaks watching the stream know this, but Shigaraki is the reason why you feel comfortable wearing pink. He remembers one of your early streams, where you wondered out loud if it was cliche to be a girl gamer who likes pink; he’d told you that it was fine, and you’d thanked him. Who knows, without his sage advice, you might be wearing clothing you didn’t like. Wouldn’t that be a shame? He makes a mental note to remind you to thank him, somewhere down the line. Maybe when you were out on a date and wearing a short pink skirt and urging him to take a sip of your vanilla-cherry milkshake, letting him put his lips right on your straw.

A date… the thought makes him feel tight all over. Would you date him? I mean, you were practically dating already, truth be told. It just needed to be formalized. He’d spent so much money on you, and in the early days he knew exactly what his donations bought because you’d happily chatter on about getting a new game or perfume or stack of light novels because of his generosity. Of course, you didn’t talk as much as you used to--well, practically never, except when he donated--but that couldn’t be helped. You were stretched thin, being pulled in directions by these so-called-fans who watched your streams but didn’t give a fuck about the real you underneath. The real you that Shigaraki knows all too well.

Would you date him? No, more than that--did you love him? The way he loves you? The thought of the real you, the one who didn’t bite her lip oh-so-obviously in a bid to look adorable, the one who didn’t mind eating messy lunches while she gamed, the one who always always made sure to wish Shigaraki good night, makes him want to find out.

He rarely participates in the chat nowadays. There’s no point, when you rarely respond to anything other than answers to questions you ask, and even then you cherry pick from the countless replies that pop up in seconds. Donating is the best way to catch your eye, to hear those sweet words from your lips that you only mean when he donates.

But something makes him want to try, today. Maybe it’s all his nostalgia for your early days, the early connection you made that is still going strong. Maybe it’s the allure of the glossy pink lipstick smeared across your lips, making him think about how you might taste of cherries or strawberries or pure sugar.

Whatever it is, it’s pulling his fingers towards the chat, and before he knows it, he’s rapidly typed and hit enter. The second he does he begins to scratch furiously at his neck and he can feel the blood even as his message is quickly dominated by other messages in the chat, inane bullshit.

Tomura001: sry for the sudden question but I need to ask you something personal do you love me?

As a quick thought, he makes a donation, just to ease the nervousness that was flooding through him with every passing millisecond.

He hardly blinks as he stares intently at you, sitting in your chair with your pink lips and pink headphone and soft skin and--you glance over, where he knows you keep a larger screen to see the chat.

And suddenly, you’re speaking.

“Awww,” you say, your voice sweet and flattered, even. “Tomura! Of course I love you! You’re my number one fan!”

He can hear his heartbeat in his ears. You do love him. I mean, he knew this already; it’s the little things, like how you still have the light novels you bought with his money on your bookshelf and you thank him for his donations like you mean it and you feel confident enough to wear pink, all thanks to him. But he’s never heard it from your mouth before. From your lips. Soft and pink and inviting.

You love him.

You love him.

You love him.

He sets the phone down, a rare occurrence when he’s glued to your streams. But the emotions rushing through him are so strong that he’s worried it will slip out of his fingers and fall, crack on the floor.

He loves you. You love him. You belong to him. So why are you wasting your fucking time streaming to a bunch of worthless losers who don’t care about you? He can buy you the things you want, the things you like. He can clear out some space in his room so you can game together. And he knows girls like things clean, so he’ll even throw out the used soda cans and food wrappers before he brings you home.  You’ll appreciate that, just like you appreciated his donations and late-night practically empty stream chats. You’ll be happy with him. And he can see you and hear you and touch you in a way that he’s been dreaming about (and you’ve been dreaming about, he knows) for ages.

All he has to do is find your address--easy enough--and you’ll be living it up with him before you know it. 

He chews on his lip and picks up his phone. You’ve moved on--you had to, didn’t you, to keep those viewers donating--but he can tell by the way your lips are pursued that you’re thinking about him.

Your number one fan.

[buckyownsmylife]

Catch me - Tom Hardy smut

The one where you’re Tom’s neighbor and he comes to your place after he’s locked out of his house on a rainy night. Requested by anon. + Dry Humping also requested by different anon ask

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, cursing

A/N: okay, so here it is! My Tom Hardy requested smut! I’d also like to announce that I’ll be attempting to partake in this years’ Kinktober, and this is my first fic, fulfilling the prompts dry humping + face sitting. I’ll post the list of prompts I created for myself, along with the characters they are paired up with, a bit later. I also say “attempting” because I actually had a pretty bad accident last night and I’m still unable to do regular things like sitting or walking, so it’s been a struggle to get this done. If in anyday I am unable to write, I won’t force myself to do it. But that’s all, please enjoy this fic and let me know what you think of it! My requests are now empty, so feel free to send me any ideas you might have - I can either integrate them in one of my fics for the kinktober challenge or work on them in November.

Tom’s P.O.V.

I had watched with only partly concealed interest as the new neighbor slowly grew more comfortable at her place right next door to me. At first, it truly was just a slight curiosity founded in my observation of just how beautiful she was. But then, one day, right after she moved in, she caught me staring, and opened up the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen. Just like that, I was stuck with a teenage-boy crush that left me blushing and stuttering every single time she so much as looked my way. 

If there was one thing people knew about me, was that I was not the blushing, stuttering type.

But things only got worse as time went on. She turned out to be just the perfect neighbor, usually coming around to offer me cookies or other baked goods precisely when I needed it the most.

“How do you always know when I’m feeling down or hungry, sweetheart?” I even ended up asking as I accepted yet another tray of brownies from her tiny hands. Her sweet little giggle went straight to my pants, instantly hardening my severely ignored member.

“It’s not that hard to figure out, Tom. Anytime you get back home this late, I can pretty much assume you barely had anything to eat all day, and it’s very clear you won’t have the energy to whip up anything right now.” My eyebrows raised up at her comment, but before I could satiate my curiosity, she quickly added, “And before you ask, no, I don’t spend my life looking out of the eyehole, you just have pretty loud steps when you’re tired, I can easily hear from my living room when you walk the hallway during the evening.”

Chuckling, I nodded, granting her that. I knew that she meant no harm, but I couldn’t help but to feel embarrassed. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’ll try to be more mindful next time.” Her eyes widened at my apology, and she immediately waved my words away, clearly mortified by the fact that I had interpreted it as a complaint.

“Gosh, Tom, no, that’s not what I… Please, don’t worry about it. I’m just a terrible insomniac, and I have good ears. It’s not like you’re waking me up every time you come home or anything. That would be a bummer, but also highly improbable, since I’m a very heavy sleeper…” I had come to understand that she was very capable of maintaining a conversation completely by herself, but everytime she took notice of it, she scrambled to get out of my sight. I figured someone in her life must have told her she talked too much, but personally, I’d do anything to witness her little monologues at least a bit more. She just seemed so interesting, and selfless despite the constant stream of consciousness that poured out of her lips whenever she was nervous.

I liked knowing I made her nervous. It made me feel less terrible about wanting to know more about her. Did that make me a creep? Hell, probably. But I couldn’t pretend like I gave a damn. I felt this inexplicable attraction to her, her personality and body, and that was it. I wanted to uncover what it was about her that had me so engrossed.

And one night, the opportunity presented itself to me. I had gone out of my car in a hurry because of the rain that had decided to pour all over the city and didn’t look like it was stopping any time soon, so I only noticed that I had locked my keys on the trunk of the car when I was already in front of my own apartment’s door, dripping all over the hallway. 

Fuck, that was just so typical of me. Why did I even bother to get my backpack out of the car, when I was already arriving home close to midnight and would be back at work early in the morning? It wasn’t like I would have the time to use my computer or anything. 

Sighing, I ran a wet hand over my face in an effort to figure out my next move. Obviously I would need to get someone to open my car for me, but in the middle of the night, it’d be hard to know who would come. It would definitely be easier to find someone in the morning, and I could very well get an Uber to some cheap motel and spend the night there. 

I was about to do just that when suddenly the door behind me opened, and a delicious smell of lasagna filled my nostrils, making me aware of just how hungry I was. “Tom?” Her sweet, sweet voice instantly calmed my tense muscles, making me open a smile at the sight of her despite the series of events I had just lived through. “Is something wrong?” 

A low chuckle escaped my lips at the awareness of just how pathetic my situation was, but there was no real humour in my tone. I looked down at my wet shoes before gathering the courage to look her in the eye again, giving her a small smile. “I locked myself out,” was all I said, and before I could even further explain my situation, her eyes had widened and she was reaching out to me, holding me by my wrist and pulling me inside of her place. 

“You poor thing. And right on the worst night for it to happen? Here, sit down while I go look for something you can change into. Wouldn’t want you catching a cold, would we?” I briefly considered offering some kind of protest, explaining how I intended to go spend the night in a motel, but the truth was, I didn’t want to. It was late, I was tired and I was really fucking cold and just by being in the close proximity of this beautiful creature, I already felt a little bit better, so I’d just shut up and wait to see how this would play out for me. 

She came back with some sweatpants and a large cotton shirt, a bashful look on her face. “I bought these sweatpants from the male’s department because they’re usually comfier than the ones I find in the female department, they should fit you well.” I accepted the small bundle of fabric she offered, one eyebrow raised as I stared down at her in curiosity.

“What about the shirt?” I asked, and she blushed five different shades of pinks and reds, making her just that much cuter. It made me want to eat her whole, and the fact that she stood a few good feet under me didn’t help that at all. I knew I could break her so easily.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I felt like I could slap myself over how silly I was behaving over something so ordinary. Why would Tom care about me having an ex? It was only natural, it’s not like I was a blushing virgin nun who never did anything slightly out of the ordinary. Sex was ordinary. I’ve done it before. I’m sure Tom wouldn’t assume I hadn’t.

Oh, what am I saying? There’s no way he has even considered this subject when it comes to me. Why on Earth would he be thinking about my sexual past? What is going on with me? I feel like I’m going insane. 

I could feel just how warm my face had gotten, but I still had some amount of pride in me to salvage the situation, so I managed to roll my eyes as I pushed Tom further inside my house, in the direction of my bathroom.

“You’re a smart man, you can figure out where the shirt came from.” His chuckle shouldn’t be so sexy, but what about this man wasn’t?

“That’s not the answer I hoped for.” And with that mysterious sentence, he locked himself in my bathroom and left me alone with my thoughts. Granted, most of them revolved around him, so I couldn’t really say I was that alone, but the lack of someone to talk to only meant that my mind was swirling and a lot of different things I shouldn’t be thinking about managed to dominate my head. 

Just what did he mean by what he said? Could it be that he… No, of course not. There was no reason for him to be jealous of me. It’s not like he could possibly want me. Right?

I spent the entire time he was taking a shower stuck in the same pattern of thoughts, so much so that I didn’t even notice he had come back to the kitchen and was watching me from the doorway until he cleared his throat, making me jump out of my skin while carrying a plate full of very hot lasagna.

“Oh,” was all I said as I felt some of the sauce spill on my hand and my chest, some even managing to get on my face. But Tom’s rough ‘Shit’ brought a giggle to my lips, despite the discomfort of the slight burning sensation on my skin. 

“‘M sorry, sweetheart. I thought you’d noticed me standing here.” While he assured me of his lack of intention to hurt me - as if I didn’t already know- he had grabbed the plate I was still holding onto and placed it on the counter, quickly procuring an already dirty rag and eagerly starting to clean me up, first my hand, and then…

Before he pressed the fabric to my chest, he looked up at me, his beautiful eyes catching mine and making me suck in a breath. “T-that’s alright,” I managed to get out, trying to look away from his hypnotizing gaze. “It doesn’t really hurt that bad. I think with a bit of cold water it might calm down.”

He nodded, agreeing with my words, but his gaze still searched mine for something I didn’t understand. “I sure hope so,” was all he said initially, his eyes finally dropping from mine to focus on the task at hand. “But I must say, I’m very disappointed.”

The comment puzzled me, rendering me useless for the time being. I could only tilt my head as I looked down at him, still crouching in front of me to clean my chest before he finally stood up on his full height and grabbed my face, gently engulfing it in one of those huge palms of his.

“I was really hoping that you were single, but I guess that would be expecting too much from the universe, considering how beautiful you are.” My eyes grew twice their normal size as I immediately tried to push him away and hide my face from his view, suddenly incredibly shy. But of course, he didn’t let me, instead pressing me against the counter and his very hard body, while he very carefully wiped away the few drops of sauce on my cheek.

For a few seconds, I let him work in silence, still trying to gather my nerves so I could say something. I should say something, shouldn’t I? I mean, here lies an opportunity that I never thought I’d experience, and here I was, being all silly about it. Finally, when he had at last finished slowly rubbing the rag against my skin, and seemed to be about to separate himself from me, I sprung into action, pulling him to me again by his forearms. 

“I-I am,” that’s all I managed to say, immediately cringing at my own lack of social skills. “Single, I mean.” Very smooth. Well done, Y/N. But despite my stupidity, it seemed that I was able to achieve my intention, since my sentence made Tom finally get rid of the rag and hold my face between both of his hands now, his thumbs softly running over my cheekbones.

“Oh, is that so?” He breathed out against my skin, our lips inches away from one another, and I shivered against my best wishes. That reaction caused a predatory smirk to appear on his face, and I knew then and there that I was in way over my head. “Good to know,” he whispered, and then his lips were on mine, forcing me to accept his tongue, eating me whole. 

He tasted like peppermint and coffee and I was already addicted to his taste, hoping to God I tasted as great to him as he did to me. At least, he didn’t complain. In fact, by the way he sucked on my tongue, forcing his deep inside my mouth, I’d go as far as to say that he did like what he tasted. 

Before long, he had pulled me up on the counter, his hands holding me by my waist as his lips ventured from my mouth to my jaw, until they found a spot on my neck that made me gasp and hold his shirt tightly, and then he was sucking, rolling his tongue on the spot where I could already feel a bruise forming, before his teeth carved their own impressions on my skin, imprinting himself on me.

My head swirled with the force of the emotions bursting through me. My legs wrapped themselves around his strong body, and I was happy that my hands knew what to do when my mind hadn’t still managed to catch up to this turn of events. When his tongue came out to lick right over my collarbones, the response gasp he elicited from me came out sounding much more like a sob than anything else.

“You’re so sensitive, princess,” He teased me, still otherwise occupied with marking my skin as his. “I’ve barely even started and here you are…” His hands ran through the expanse of my body, like he was showing his proof to an audience. “... a mess already.”

He wasn’t wrong. I was somehow dripping already. I could feel it, dripping from inside of me, slowly ruining the panties I was wearing. They were so not appropriate for the activities I was currently partaking in, but how the hell would I have known this was going to happen?

All I knew was that Tom had lit the fire inside of me, and now the flames were threatening to swallow us both.

Tom’s P.O.V.

She was just too cute, so out of breath and trembling with desire with the little I’d done to tease her. It just made me want to ruin her even more. My little neighbor, so perfect and sweet, so needy for me.

She didn’t even realize she had started to grind herself against me, in search of some sort of release. Well, I wasn’t about to cut her off. Unstead, I took advantage of my grip on her, pulling her body until I was the one keeping her up, trapped between my body and the counter.

“Rub your tiny wet cut against my jeans, love,” I ordered in a demanding whisper right on her ear, making her shiver. She obeyed without any sort of hesitation, looking up at me underneath her eyelashes with her eyes glazed over with lust. “That’s it…” Fuck if the pressure wasn’t exactly what I needed to help ease up some of the tension from the need I was feeling in my veins. “Rub yourself against my hard cock, don’t be shy.”

My words seemed to be gasoline for her, giving her the push she needed to grind herself even harder against my bulge. I decided to help her, pushing her more firmly against the counter and following the movements, rejoicing in the pleasure gasp that escaped her lips as the added pressure provided more friction to her clit.

“Fuck…” She whispered, and I think that in the entirety of the four months of conversations I’d entertained with her, that was the first time I’d heard her cuss. The four letter word I was so familiarized with had a new, unexpected effect on me, making the situation inside my pants so difficult I had to stop my movements and slow hers down by her hips, so I wouldn’t just jizz on my pants like a fucking teenager. 

But Y/N didn’t stop, despite accepting my silent request to decrease the fervor of our activities. When I finally managed to get control over myself again, I realized why. She had gripped the counter behind her and was using it to better control her movements, and it was clear by the way her head hung back and her mouth fell open that she was about to cum just like that.

“Shit,” I cussed just as the realization hit, and it felt like all of the control I’d managed to build in the last few seconds I closed my eyes had suddenly escaped through the window. My cock was painfully hard again, and all I could think of was that I needed to get out of these fucking jeans.

Who could blame me, though? When she looked like that, creaming her panties with her clothes still on? Shit, I couldn’t wait to get her naked and underneath me. I needed to feel her from the inside, explore her wetness with my hard cock.

But first, I was desperate to get a taste of her. So as soon as her breathing came back to a somewhat regular pattern, I was careful to put her on the ground again, making sure she was able to stand on her own legs, before dropping to my knees in front of her.

“What are you… Oh.” I couldn’t help but to chuckle at the innocence of her mind that stopped her from immediately understanding what I intended to do, but then I was pushing her skirt up and away from my view and her panties were in front of me and they were drenched, absolutely ruined by the sticky liquid that made my mouth water. 

“Fuck, princess…” I moaned as I carefully peeled the cotton fabric down her legs, keeping it pooled around her ankles as I pushed her legs open as far as they could go. She was dripping, a single line of her wetness connecting both of her thighs, making me groan at the sight. “You might just kill me…” I commented before reaching up to pull her to me, effectively burying my face on her.

“T-Tom!” The sound of my name escaping her lips with that reverent tone left me even hungrier for her, as did her exquisite taste. It painted my tongue with its sweetness, embedding itself in my cells, making sure I’d never be able to forget it. I already knew I’d be hungry for her again the second I pulled away from her cunt.

Nonetheless, I forced myself to stop for a moment to gather my senses, as her taste made it harder and harder to control my need to relieve my aching member. I needed to be inside of her, and quickly. 

Abruptly rising up to my full height, I picked her up by the back of her thighs so she’d wrap her legs around me and took us to where I’d assumed her bedroom would be, considering I was familiarized with the general layout of the apartments. The second I laid her on the bed, my hands were struggling with my own belt, as I watched her pull her dress over her head, now completely bare before me.

“You’re so fucking hot.” When my pants dropped to the floor and my cock slapped my lower stomach, I pounced on her immediately, crawling on the space between her legs and pulled her by the back of her neck to connect our lips once more. “Do you want to be railed tonight, pretty neighbor?”

She fucking whimpered in response, repetitions of “yes” and “please” escaping her lips as she tried to pull me closer to her by the legs she embraced me with. Not having it in me to stop this moment any longer, I gripped my member with one of my hands while I held her hips down with the other, briefly rubbing the blunt head of my cock over her sensitive clit before pushing myself completely inside of her.

“Oh, fuck,” I groaned, blindsided by the tightness, wetness and warmness that now surrounded me. “I knew your cunt would be fucking delicious.” I watched her as I pulled out until just my tip was inside of her, only to push it back in as forcefully as I could.

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, her hands flew up to hold my shoulders, almost as if she wanted to push me away or tell me to take it easy, but as her legs continued to pull me even deeper inside, I knew what she really needed was to be properly fucked.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

Tom was not exaggerating; he really did pound me against my mattress, immediately setting up the most brutal of paces. It hurt, especially with how much he was stretching me, but it felt too fucking good to complain about it.

The only thing I could do was to relax and accept this invasion, this possession of my body by my next-door neighbor. I knew I must have been quite a vision, my arms thrown up in search of something to hold on to, spit escaping the corner of my lips by the intensity of the thrusts, my breasts shaking as he pulled me back to meet his thrusts by my hips. I hoped I’d have some bruises on the shape of his fingertips to remember this night.

Not like I would ever be able to forget, anyway. Only a lunatic would expel the visions of Tom looking like this while fucking them, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, the sweat gathering over his eyebrows. I wanted to kiss it away. I wanted to taste its saltiness. 

Just as my head began to twirl in time with the growth of arousal in my lower belly, Tom’s eyes travelled upwards from the point where his cock was buried inside of me to find my breasts, one of his hands immediately following suit. When his pull on my nipple was accompanied by the feeling of his warm mouth engulfing the other one, I screamed as I came all around him, my head thrown back and eyes closed as I relished in the feeling of being so perfectly filled, so perfectly touched.

“Fuckin’ tight.” Tom fucked me through my orgasm, but at the sight of my eyes blinking back open, he pulled out, easily manhandling me into turning around and rising on all fours. “This fucking ass… Do you have any idea how long I dreamt about fucking you like this?”

I didn’t know how, but his words and the way his huge hands sprawled over the cheeks of my butt reignited the flames that had just been fed, and I found myself pushing back against him, offering myself up to him. Anything to get his cock inside of me again.

“Please…” I all but begged, and I heard his breath hitching behind me. “Just… please keep fucking me.” Perhaps that was all that he needed, because in a second his cock was tearing me open again, so fucking deep that I could feel it in my stomach. 

“Fuck… If I had known how it would look to have my little perfect neighbor begging for my cock, I would have fucked you ages ago.” Every single thing that came out of that man’s mouth was like sin. He wrapped my hair around his fist, suddenly using it to pull me back to him as he raised one of his legs to the mattress, the new angle making each of his thrusts hit that spot inside of me that made everything just a little more satisfying. 

I could feel tears running down my cheeks, falling on my spread out hands as I struggled to keep breathing through his assault on my senses. “Are you gonna cum again, love?” I could hear him asking, and I wanted to answer, I really did, but every time I opened my mouth, only sobs came out. “Are you? Here, let me help you out.”

The feeling of his rough fingers softly caressing my clit was such a stark contrast to the way he was still brutally pounding into me that instead of trying to push him away from my much too sensitive lower region, I opened my eyes in surprise as another orgasm took over me, somehow even stronger than the previous ones.

“Yeah, that’s it… Fuck. Come for me, sweetheart. Wanna feel your cunt milking my fucking cock.” His words did nothing to help ease my arousal, and just when my arms started to give out, I felt him spilling inside of me. “FUCK!” He shouted, following my body’s motions until he was covering me with his own torso, still very much inside of me.

His thrusts finally coming to a stop after he had slowly fucked his cum inside of me, I felt his thumbs caressing my hips as I remained face planted on my mattress. “Well, this isn’t how I expected this night to go, but I can’t say I’m not satisfied.”

A snort was all I could give him as he finally pulled out and allowed his body to fall by my side, giving me a quick kiss on the shoulder that was closer to him. “You ok?” He asked, and I snorted again.

“More than okay. You still haven’t eaten though.” It was the truth. After all of this… incredible distraction from my cooking plans, he still hadn’t gotten around to eat dinner. I heard him take a deep breath next to me as he pondered his answer. 

“Really? ‘Cause I remember eating some very delicious pussy a few minutes ago.” It took me a few minutes to process what he had said, but when I did, I turned around to playfully hit his chest while feeling my face warm up from the reality of what we had just done.

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re hot.” And when he put it in such simple terms, as he pulled me in his arms so that I could cuddle his chest, how could I feel embarrassed?

[sourwormsaresour]

Headcanons on the type of pets La Squadra would own?

Holy shit this was too fun to make, especially with giving the pets names.

Sorbet and Gelato have their own Crusty-White-Dog™ that's a Maltese Terrier named Armani. The dog hates and barks nonstop at everything deemed threatening (aka, everyone and particularly the rest of La Squadra) and yet those two will claim she's the sweetest thing in the world. True to her name, they deck her with Armani branded clothes, either specially made dog fashion or they had a DIY done to make it look like an Armani outfit- down to the bright pink leash she wears dripping in the Armani logo. She eats the finest dry kibble and only drinks Ferrarelle Sparkling water; she will know the difference if you switch it up. She's the epitome of "I demand pets but only do so with your eyes" to everyone. Despite loving Sorbet and Gelato the most, she demands all their attention on her and she will cockblock those two if she catches them being affectionate to each other instead. Despite having a nice bed, she always sleeps between the two of them and will whimper if they kick her out of the bedroom so they can get intimate. Those tear-stained eyes always look like they've seen everything, despite being constantly babied by her owners. If Armani could, she would kill everyone.

Risotto, the biggest man in Vento Aureo, has a little Syrian hamster he called Ace. He thought that a pet with a shorter lifespan would allow him the perfect balance of having a pet but not being very attached to it compared to pets that live longer- he was wrong. If you ever come into Risotto's office as he worked, either you are greeted with Ace running around in his green hamster ball, walking around Risotto's desk as he worked, or running in the hamster wheel behind the desk. Ace's tank is an old Aquarium tank Pesci gave to Risotto that is now full of soft bedding, toys, and Risotto frequently cleans it. There are days where Risotto just spends hours watching his hamster walk around the room, eating little treats, and staring at Risotto with its beady eyes. It's gotten to the point where you can't walk into Risotto's office without noticing a lone sunflower seed or piece of bedding on the ground that Risotto didn't notice until you pointed it out. Every time Ace passes from old age, Risotto buys a new Syrian hamster and calls that one Ace. He hasn't kept track of how many hamsters that came and went so far, but treated every one of them as if they were the first Ace. He takes pictures of Ace doing the most relatively boring things and will share them with his members.

Illuso got a Sulphur-crested cockatoo named Scapino as a joke. He thought they didn’t require much attention but later felt bad when he found out that they need specific proper care. He proceeds to care for it as if it was his child. Illuso taught his bird how to speak and swear at people, specifically swearing at Formaggio and occasionally at Ghiaccio. This man will shower his bird with the best treats (expensive nuts, dried fruit, chicken bones) and has a special bar for it to perch on when they're in the shower together. This bird has free reign all over Illuso's place and wears a little anklet thing to verify that it has an owner should it escape. The two of them have spa days together and it’s one of the most wholesome things in the world to witness. Scapino will actually join Illuso on missions too, staying in the mirror world the whole time, and it provides him some comfort from his social anxiety. Sometimes Scapino sits on his shoulder as he walks. Illuso trained it to stay and hide in the mirror world so that it wouldn’t fly away or blow his cover when he’s working. But the bird will fly around in there and will watch anyone that’s getting murked in front of him with no remorse and commenting on it too. Imagine you’re dying in the mirror world and your last moment is this fucking bird looming over you going “night night, motherfucker”. JESUS CHRIST. 

Prosciutto used to be on the whole “pets are unnecessary” train but he had considered looking at breeders for the best quality dog. And then one rainy day he found an abandoned Portuguese Water Dog puppy in an alleyway and at Pesci’s insistence took it in. Turns out the puppy was bought by a rich family for their kid but then abandoned when the kid wasn't interested in it anymore. Prosciutto insisted that the dog was going to stay for one night and then sent to the pound first thing in the morning. It's been years now and the little dog is now a big fluffy good boy named Pon Pon. The second biggest chunk of Prosciutto's paycheck is for this dog; I'm talking grooming services with paw-ticures, an all-organic raw diet, the nicest beds that even a human would wish they can sleep on. Pon Pon is properly trained with all the basics and tricks, because Prosciutto doesn't want to deal with a misbehaving dog, but it will use puppy eyes against the old man now and then. He give you the best smiles if you call him a good boy and if you glance at the right time you can see Prosciutto smile for a brief moment. Had he lived longer, he would have made Pon Pon famous on Facebook like Boo the Dog. Prosciutto will also not admit that this dog has helped him get laid a few times, because every person he did bring home always got a kick out of Pon Pon.

Ghiaccio has a pet snake- an albino ball python named Bianco. Ghiaccio was also on the “pets are unnecessary” train too but mainly because he can't stand loud pets (i.e. Illuso and Sorbet and Gelato’s pets). When Risotto suggested he get a snake, Ghiaccio looked into it, researching and meticulously setting up the proper enclosure  and found himself going to a local reptile expo to find Bianco for sale. He’s fascinated by his snake to say the least, and would use leftover containers or Tupperware for Bianco to spend more money on proper equipment or food. Ghiaccio is really involved in online reptile forums and frequently debates with people on topics such as the best substrates to use, whether live rodents are better than frozen, ethics of breeding certain species, etc. He often gets worried when Bianco becomes picky and Ghiaccio would spend sleepless nights trying to get his baby to eat. Ghiaccio would walk around with his ball python wrapped around his neck or lets him slither around in his room under supervision but he mostly leaves him alone in the enclosure. There are times where he would claim he has the best, smartest pet and everyone just rolls their eyes like “yes the white fettuccine that got stuck in a toilet paper roll an hour ago is so smart”. But they let him rant about it. It’s kind of cute to say the least.

Pesci is the definition of people whose entire LIVELIHOOD is making his room into an aquarium. His room is full of strictly maintained, cleaned, and decorated tanks full of various types of aquatic animals. I’m talking Dwarf Puffers (Antonio, Portia, Jessica, Bassiano, and Solanio), Albino Gold Axolotls (Moe, Larry, and Curly), Red Ear Sliders (Franco and Ciccio), Clown Fishes (Browser, Mario, Toadstool, and Koopa), Brazilian Sea Horses (Tom and Jerry), a Blue Betta Fish named Valentina in a 30+ gallon aquaponics tank that grows a variety of plants each season- to name a few. He rebuilt his entire room to keep everything running and even had Melone help him set up timers for lighting and temperature control. Pesci will cry if you somehow made the pH level off by 1 or did not care for his animals properly when he’s away. He’ll even lecture you about bad tank setup. He's a prominent member of the aquarium  community in Italy and will regularly redecorate each tank to suit the year and mood. This is where he’s spending his cut on the 20 million lira job: caring for his mini aquarium room. He occasionally gives away his pets’ offsprings for extra money (he doesn’t breed but sometimes he ends up having a ton of baby animals he can’t take care of) and would have been a YouTuber for his fish content. Now that I think about it, Pesci reminds me of my mutual @nexter2nd. Please go follow them.

Melone has a Holland Lop bunny and you cannot change my mind. He actually had a pet bunny growing up, another Holland Lop named Echo and Grep, and his current one is named Sudo; all three are named after UNIX commands. He has a large dog crate he diy-ed to be a roomy enclosure in his room for her that he cleans frequently but also allows Sudo free reign of the room when she wants to go out. Because of his job, he makes sure all his wires are covered so his bunny isn't tempted to chew them and watches his bunny diligently whenever she roams around. Easter time is when the denim jacket, pastel bows, and flower crowns come out and Melone makes sure to take a lot of photos. He also housetrained his bunny and taught her a few tricks, similar to how he trained Echo and Grep years ago. Sudo is spoiled in terms of getting a lot of pets, new toys, and feasts on the finest veggies and delicious hay. Melone also makes sure the first thing he teaches his Juniors is to not harm the bunny. Surprisingly, he's against breeding Sudo and has her neutered. This is mainly because he doesn't have the time to breed and raise more bunnies but also he hates the idea of selling the grown bunnies off afterward. 

You know that Formaggio has a cat: the little Russian Blue cat named Sweetie Baby. Sweetie Baby was a kitten that he found outside his home. The little thing was the sole survivor of its litter and nearly starving to death, so he took her in thinking he will bring her to the shelter when she recovers; that cat now lets him live in HER apartment rent-free. Despite feeding her cheap dry food and constantly shoving her into bottles, he treats her like a queen otherwise. He will dress her up in little outfits (much to her annoyance) and often would be too aggressively affectionate towards her. Still, there are moments where she would cuddle with him during the later nights and allow him to put on one iced-out bow he just spent a quarter of his paycheck on. Walking to his apartment and even the backdoor of La Squadra’s HQ means carefully walking through the stray cats mewling at your feet, because Formaggio will feed any cat he sees. Initially, Risotto wanted the cats gone, but then he finds out the cats doubled as security when he watched some robber attempting to break in but getting their eyes scratched off instead.

[zaikaglow]

Umbrageous Part 2

Pairing: Erwin x Reader (eventually Reader x Eren, Reader x Levi, Reader x Hange maybe more)

Summary: Your mom has married the ever handsome Erwin Smith but the two of you have started an illicit affair under her nose. As you become more jealous of being the other women you start to engage in office affairs to try and force Erwin's hand.

Content Warnings: Step dad! Erwin, alcoholism, size kink, cheating, pseudoincest

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

“No one should be coming in for a few more hours, we're alone” Erwin said, starting to kiss your neck with large hands caressing the side of your face as his nose ran down your neck. It was quite early in the morning and Erwin had brought you to the office with him under the guise of you doing a sort of internship at the law office during your winter break, your mom convinced that this would be a great experience for you. Now here you were backed against the door of his office at this ungodly hour in the morning. You take Erwins head into your hands thumbs caressing his sharp jawline 

“You know I don't think i'm planning to work very hard at this intershipy thing, I think I might need to be punished” 

you coo tilting your head down. Erwins fingers slide back into your hair tightening their grip “I guess I’m going to need to teach you a lesson then” he says as he picks you up, hands grabbing your ass as your legs wrap around his waist, fingers still laced in your hair. The tall man sits you on his desk and the photo of you, him, and your mother falls forward, “ugh” you sigh moving it into a drawer “you keep a photo of her here”? You chide. Erwin places his thumbs against your temples whispering in your ear “I already told you princess it would be considered strange if I didn't have that”. You pinch your bottom lip between your teeth “fine, make it up to me then” you say. A devilish smile blooms across Erwins lips as he moves his head back to your neck kissing that sweet spot behind your ear and then down your neck to your collar bones. His hands move down to grasp your hips as his head goes down fanning hot breath over your now erect nipples, kissing them through the fabric of your shirt before moving down, now kneeling on the ground he moves his head under your skirt pulling your panties to the side.Your fingers claw into the edge of the desk as his hot wet tongue makes contact with your swollen bud going around it in soft circles just how you like it before he slips in one of his thick calloused fingers inside stroking up into your sweet spot. You bite onto your bottom lip throwing your head back as the heat building in between your thighs releases itself and you place your hands onto Erwin’s head “okay, okay I’m ready to take you now” you say as you grip his collar pulling him up into a kiss tasting yourself on his lips. His thumb rubs small circles into your cheek “I thought I was supposed to be teaching you a lesson but I don't think I have it in me to hurt you” he says before pulling you into another kiss. You start to unbutton his pants as you look up at him through your lashes “don't worry it always hurts” you notice his eyebrows furrowed in concern “but in the best sort of way” you finish as you free his cock from its confines. He’s so hard that it would slap against his stomach if it wasn't so large that it struggled under its own weight almost straining to maintain its somewhat upright position. He opens the top drawer of the desk as you pull your panties off and you notice him pulling out a box of condoms starting to unwrap one before you interject, eyes darting away “really? I thought you liked mommies”. He places a hand on your shoulder “don't start this, not now. I don't want you to have to deal with the mess not here”. “Fine, go on” you say. He finishes rolling the condom on before lining himself up with your entrance. He grips the head of his cock rubbing it up and down your folds teasing your clit before finally sliding in with a grunt. You can hear him pant as he starts sliding in, he gets about halfway down his length before you squeeze his shoulders “that's enough for right now I need a second”, he kisses your forehead as a gesture of yes take your time as he starts to fuck you with half his length. You can feel the head of his cock brushing against that sweet spot in your walls as his other hand twists your pebbled nipples under your shirt. You grab the back of his head feeling the stubble of his undercut and whisper “okay i'm ready for the rest”. He moans as he slides the rest of the way in and your head rolls back when his pelvis makes contact with yours and your tight cunt grips down on him.You nip the bottom of his earlobe and nuzzle your face into his neck. “I. I’m I’m going to finish” you rub your nose against his neck “hhmmm go yeah go ahead” and you feel his warmth spill into you. Then the warmth suddenly leaves as he pulls out leaving you now clenching around nothing. “Ah what a good girl” he coos kissing you on the forehead as he takes a tissue from the desk to start to clean the slick mess between your thighs before grabbing another one and taking care of himself. You wipe the sweat from your brow “you know it’ll still probably be a few hours before anyone else comes in if you want to go again you say while twisting the pair of panties in your hands. Erwin stops as soon as he zips his pants up, he doesn't make eye contact. A sure sign that he’s about to say something that you wont like and you pout in anticipation. “Listen if your mom wants to try anything tonight she’ll notice the uh.. output.. will be much less if that’ll be my third time today”. 

“Really youre going to fuck her the same day you fuck me?”

“Y/n don’t be like that” he says placing his hands on your shoulders

“Whatever Im going to go get some coffee or something” you say stepping back into your panties and grabbing your coat off the rack from earlier.

When you get back to the office you're sitting in the little lobby outside Erwin's office not feeling like hanging out inside with him at the moment. You're annoyed that he would blow you off because the chance of your mom wanting to jump his bones tonight. You feel almost disgusted thinning of him touching her in the ways he did to you when you saw the tall boy walk in through the doors carrying a stack of paper. The first thing you notice are just how blue, no green, blue/green? His eyes are, and how his bun can't contain all his hair with pieces falling from his crown onto his forehead. When he turns to see you staring a devilish grin spreads across his face and he starts making his way over to you. It’s almost a rush. normally when men notice you. They had sheepish grins and turned away but this boy was so bold it was charming. The boy takes the seat next to you placing his papers down on the glass coffee table, sticking his hand out to you. “Hi I’m Eren Jager I’m uh the new intern here”. You take his hand and notice how he gently squeezes it “Nice to meet you, I’m mister Smith’s daughter”.

“Wow the daughter of the lawyer how lucky am I”

“I’d say very lucky, you know Eren my dad has me just hanging around here doing nothing, why don’t you show me what you do around here”

A small blush began to bloom over Erens cheeks and you gave him your best “oh so innocent and oh so naive” smiles.

“Okay let's go” he says, taking your hand to help you up. You were so thrilled about the full attention of this new boy who you didn't have to share that you didn't notice Erwin had gotten up from his desk, he was going to ask you to please forgive him and come sit in his office with him when he notice the new intern making a bee line right for you. But you could feel the blond’s eyes bore into your skull when you got up to follow Eren guided by his hand. You turn your head to give Erwin a coy smile before turning your full attention back to Eren, happy to follow him wherever he was talking to you.

[barnesbabee]

Possessive || P.S

Summary: Jealousy is a dangerous feeling when it controls over people, but if it’s mixed with lust, it might be just what you need.

Pairing: Park Seonghwa x Reader 

Words: some of them

Genre: Smut

⚠ public sex ⚠

A/N: I like writing for Seonghwa, even though he isn’t my bias I feel like he’s the one that holds the vibes/looks/personality for the aesthetic I usually aim to. Enjoy xx💖

ᴄʀᴇᴅɪᴛ

 Seonghwa was a jealous man. He got very self-conscious when another guy or a girl started talking to you often, afraid he'd be replaced

 "Hwa, baby, you've been my best friend for five years, if I wanted to replace you I would have. The main spot is yours, okay?"

 It didn't matter how many times you'd told him the same sentence, it didn't matter how much you assured him he was the most important friend you'd ever had, he would still be very warry around other people that wanted to get closer to you, afraid you'd take more of a liking to them.

 One day you were strolling through the park after the two of you had seen the movie, giggling at each other's silly jokes. Seonghwa left you sitting in one of the benches, under the familiar apple tree you'd often meet up at, so he could go grab ice creams for the two of you.

 You were waiting for him, scrolling through your phone when someone called for you.

 "Y/N?" A familiar voice asked.

  You looked up to find an old friend of yours. He had grown up substancially since you’d last seen him and he was now a handsome, well-built man.

 "Wooyoung!"

 You stood up and hugged him, receiving an equally tight hug from the boy.

 He had been on your class throughout elementary school and for a good part of high school until he moved schools since he'd gotten a contract with a basketball team from another school.

 "How have you been? I haven't seen you in forever!" He asked you, wearing a bright smile as he stared at you.

 "I'm great! I'm really good, but I've missed you!"

 You punched his arm playfully, pretending to be mad he left you, and you both giggled.

 "Well Y/N, you look good..." He paused and inspected your body from head to toe, his eyes lingering on your exposed thighs for a little longer "Fuck, you look really good."

 You blushed a little at his comment and at the way his fingers twirled with the hem of your skirt.

 Wooyoung had become a really attractive man ever since you'd last seen him, and you were a little flustered about the dirty attention he gave you, yet you felt proud of it.

"You don't look so bad yourself." You told him with a playful smile playing on your lips.

 He chuckled at your little remark and pulled his hand away from you, shoving it in his pocket instead.

 "Think so?"

 You nodded and bit your lower lip slightly.

 "Well, what do you think about going out some time? We could grab some dinner and hang out back at my place?"

 The flirty look plastered on his face was making you feel something in the pit of your stomach. You didn’t get a chance to reply, however. Someone snatched you away from Wooyoung, grabbing your wrist and pulling you along with them.

  You could recognize that black hair anywhere, and you sighed at the jealousy-fueled actions of your best-friend.

   “Seonghwa, come on! I was chatting to an old friend...” You told him, whining at his behavior. 

   Seonghwa pinned you against the wall of the back of the public bathrooms, which you were just passing by.

   “Chatting!? He was practically eye-fucking you.”

  You were taken aback by his tone. It was angry, aggressive, deep... His dark eyebrows had a frown and his eyes looked into you as if you had betrayed him.

  “Seonghwa you need to calm the fuck down. I told you that you are my best friend, I don’t know why you’re so fucking insecure!”

   You were angry, and your eyes stared right back at his.

   “What!?” He yelled, incredulous at your accusation of him being insecure.

   “You heard me! I’ve told you countless times what you mean to me! Yet you’re still jealous of everyone that gets near me and you act super possessive, it’s suffocating! Why do you do it, Seonghwa!?”

  His eyes scanned your features, his jaw was clenched and his breathing was uneven. It seemed as if he had a decision to take, yet he was uncertain. Ultimately, his hands grabbed your hips and pushed you harsher against the wall.

   “You want to know why? This is why.”

  His lips smashed against yours and started moving roughly. His tongue grazed along your bottom lip.

  You were confused and torn between two mindsets. It was wrong. But why was it wrong? Why did this have to be wrong when it felt so right? Seonghwa’s hand gripping your thigh, his lips on yours, the neediness he was emitting... You were enjoying every bit of it and suddenly all of his jealousy and possessiveness made sense. He wanted to have you. And in your mind, you saw no wrong. He was your best friend, yes, but above that, he was also a beautiful man whom you trusted your life with. You tried to find a reason for it to be wrong, but couldn’t. 

  Your lips parted, giving Seonghwa the access he yearned for so much. Both of his hands were now on your thighs, and they moved upwards so his thumbs would brush over the hem of your panties.

  His soft lips kissed the spot below your ear and they trailed down your neck, leaving small kisses and bites. His fingers sneakily hooked around your underwear and tugged it down. Your hands immediately pressed against his chest and pushed him back slightly and softly. He looked into your eyes, lust dripping from every trace in his face.

  “Seonghwa... We shouldn’t do this... not here.” You whispered.

  Seonghwa smirked and pressed a kiss against your neck.

  “I’ll stop when you tell me to stop.” He whispered with a groggy voice and kept messing with your head.

  You loved the way he was touching you and you couldn’t bring yourself to stop him or say anything, so you just moaned quietly and let yourself melt into his touch. Seonghwa chuckled against your skin.

   “Didn’t think so either.”

  God, he was such a fucking brat...

  His hands pulled down your panties mid-thigh and his long fingers slid between your folds.

   “Fuck...” You let our a breathy moan.

  Seonghwa’s lips met yours once more in a needy kiss, an attempt to silence your future moans as two of his fingers slipped into you.

  Your fingers gripped his hair, pulling him even closer to you as you whimpered into the kiss. 

  Seonghwa’s digits pumped in and out of you faster, and your legs trembled. When he could feel you were close, Seonghwa pulled them out and licked them clean, always maintaining eye contact with you. 

  Suddenly you heard footsteps, and a couple of hikers passed by you. The man and the woman eyed you weirdly, because of the suggestive position the two of you were in, but shrugged it off and walked away quickly. 

  The thought of being caught caused Seonghwa’s erection to grow, and your wetness to spread. He quickly turned you around and pressed his boner against your ass. Seonghwa placed a couple of kisses on your neck.

   “Do you want this?” He asked, wanting to make sure he wasn’t forcing anything onto you.

  “Yes...” You moaned.

  Seonghwa fondled with his belt for a second before being able to unbuckle it. He unzipped his pants and pulled them down slightly along with his boxers, just enough for him to be able to pull out his cock.

  Seonghwa parted your legs and pulled up your skirt. He found your entrance and pushed inside you. You bit your lower lip and shut your eyes tightly, painfully containing your moans.

  Your best-friend waited for a second. He wanted to make sure you were comfortable.

  “M-move.”

  Seonghwa complied and gripped your hips. He started thrusting slowly in and out of you and soon the pace picked up. The man buried his head in the crook of your neck, trying to muffle his moans as well.

   “S-shit, you feel so good...” He whispered against your skin.

  You allowed a moan to escape your lips, as an incentive, and his thrusts became more violent. 

  His cock hit a sensitive spot inside you and you felt your body go weak for a second. 

  “Seonghwa I’m going to cum...” You whispered.

  The man kissed your nape and kept his pace steady.

  “Cum for me, beautiful...”

  This dominant yet caring side of Seonghwa turned you on beyond anything, and it didn’t take long for you to climax with a moan that should have been quieter. 

  Pleasantly taken by surprise by the loud noise and the thought of someone hearing you, Seonghwa came. His warm spurt hit your walls and filled you up. As he pulled out, you both tried to catch your breaths.

  You could feel his cum dripping down your thigh and so you slapped his chest.

  “Seonghwa, ew.” 

  He blushed with a little proud smile and pulled a tissue out of the pack he had in his pocket. Seonghwa cleaned you up and pulled your panties back up. He kissed your temple and you started walking back to his flat.

  “Seonghwa has a crush on me.” You sang and poked his side jokingly.

  He glared at you lovingly, pretending to be mad at your mockery, and grabbed a hold of your hand.

  “Shut up! Or you’ll get it harder.”

[silvermalkin]

Obey Me! Shall We Date?

Simeon x Reader

Sick Fic - Simeon caught a Devildom virus, but he’s been quarantined. Who is going to take care of him?

Rated: E

Word Count: ~3300

Tags: Gender Neutral Reader, Cuddles, Fluff, Solomon’s Cooking Mention

School had ended, but you were taking a moment to study in the RAD courtyard. Something your professor had said confused you, so you were pouring over your “Contracts, Loopholes, and the Stupid Mortals who Make Them” textbook.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, can I talk to you for a minute?”

You stopped flipping pages to look up at Solomon. “Sure. You look solemn, is everything okay?”

“It isn’t.” He hung his head. “I’m sure you noticed Simeon’s absence today.”

“I did. Is he sick?” When he nodded, you closed your textbook. “What can I do to help?”

“This isn’t a mere cold, there isn’t much that you could—” he stopped and regarded you thoughtfully, resting a finger against his lips. “No, I suppose if it’s you it should be fine. Would you like to come see him?”

You were already standing. “Let’s go.”

While you walked to Purgatory Hall, Solomon told you about Simeon’s condition. “Unfortunately, Simeon thought it would be nice to take a late-night walk along the River Doom in the rain and he ran into a Devildom virus. It wouldn’t be too serious for a demon or a human, however, for an angel it is quite dangerous.”

“Additionally,” he continued, “The Devildom air is quite aggressive. Normally our angel friends can handle it perfectly well but in Simeon’s condition it could be fatal. So for now we’ve set a seal around his room to limit his exposure.”

“How can we help him recover? Is there any medicine?”

Solomon shook his head. “Only the usual, to ease some of the discomfort. But Simeon will just have to fight the virus until it has run its course.”

“And moving him back to the Celestial Realm?”

“It would be too dangerous.”

“Poor Simeon. And I bet Luke is out of his mind with worry.”

Solomon sighed. “Luke, well, see for yourself.” You’d arrived at Purgatory Hall, and as soon as you went inside you heard a huge clatter from the kitchen. You rushed in to find Luke sprawled on the floor, his head in a bowl of butterscream frosting.

“Oh, Luke,” you said as you helped him up and removed the bowl. “Are you alright?”

He blinked away frosting to look at you with tears in his eyes and drips from his nose. You made a mental note to throw the frosting away later.

“What am I going to do,” wailed Luke, “nothing I make is turning out right. I can’t give these to Simeon!” He gestured to the counter behind him where a small mountain of sloppy pastries and burnt cookies lay ominously. “I can’t do anything else to help him feel better, what if he doesn’t ever get—”

You almost patted his head, but switched to a frosting-free shoulder. “Try not to worry, Luke. He’s a strong angel. I’m sure he will recover in time.”

Luke wiped his nose on his sleeve and nodded. “You’re right. Simeon wouldn’t let something like the Devildom bring him down for good!” Still, he couldn’t quite smile and tears still ran down his cheeks.

“Since you get it,” said Solomon, “why don’t you ease up on the baking? It’s not like a sick person could eat this anyway.” He nudged a melting Petrifying Parfait. “You’ve taken up so much of the kitchen I haven’t been able to make any real food for Simeon.”

You pressed your lips together. “Mmhmmmm. Well, maybe if you can get Luke and uh, the rest of this cleaned up, I can make something light for him.”

Solomon grabbed a towel and vigorously rubbed Luke’s whole head and face to get off the icing, which made Luke mad, but at least he wasn’t crying anymore. While they focused on cleaning up the desserts, you set about making a simple soup. Something warm and light that would give Simeon a bit of energy but wouldn’t tax him to eat.

After the food was ready, Solomon took you up to Simeon’s room, but stopped you before you stepped inside. “The seal,” he stated. “It’s rather delicate. I can maintain it as you go in, but too many crossings would break it.”

“So, you’re saying that if I go in I shouldn’t come back out.”

He nodded. “If you’re willing to take the responsibility and look after him until his fever breaks, I’ll begin.” He looked at you.

You looked at him. “What are you waiting for? The soup’s getting cold.”

He chuckled. “Of course.” He touched the doorway and concentrated a moment. “Alright, go on.”

Without hesitation you strode inside and set your tray down on the small table before turning to the bed and the angel who lay there.

Simeon indeed looked very unwell. He was breathing erratically and sleeping fitfully, the covers twisted around him as he fidgeted. He was sweating, too. He had gotten dressed, sans cape, but his clothes were damp. His bedside table had some medicine on it, but the packet laying by a glass of water was unopened. It was an antipyretic; looking at the box, he would have needed food to take this, anyway.

Thankfully Simeon had his own bathroom, so you wet some cloths down with cool water. First thing was to help wipe the sweat from his skin. You gently dabbed his forehead, and worked your way down to his neck and shoulders.

He stirred a bit, eyes unopen. “Luke?”

“Sorry, it’s me.”

He didn’t react for a moment. “The dream again,” he muttered. Then his eyes cracked open, although they remained unfocused. “Wait. Wh- I’m- you don’t need- they shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t get worked up. I wanted to come. Luke is too distraught to help you, and do you really want Solomon to make you something to eat?”

He smiled a bit, which relieved you. “No.” His eyes started to drift closed again.

“Hey, now. You can’t go back to sleep just yet. You need your medicine but for that you’ll have to eat something first. Do you feel hungry?”

He didn’t answer.

“Simeon.” You pulled him upright, hoping that would wake him up some more.

“I don’t feel hungry but I can probably keep something down.”

You handed him the thermometer and he stuck it into his mouth as you fetched the tray you’d brought. When the thermometer beeped you looked at the reading. “Too high, obviously, but you should be fine after medicine and some rest. Now, try some soup first. If your fever breaks and you want something a little firmer later, I brought up a shadow apple for you.”

“Are these rabbits?” He reached over to the plate and gently touched one of the apple-peel ears. “Cute.”

He was cute, with his flushed face and sleepy mannerisms. You were glad you went to the effort of cutting them nicely. “Here,” you said, holding up a spoonful of soup, cupping your hand underneath to catch drips.

Simeon stared at you.

You flushed. “Hurry,” you urged, bringing the spoon to his mouth.

Obediently he opened up and took let you tip the soup in, but he watched you the whole time, face flushed from fever. Probably.

“The taste?” you asked awkwardly.

He snapped out of it. “I… can’t taste anything.”

“Oh,” you said. Feeling a little disappointed you stirred the soup slowly. Then a small snort made you look up.

Simeon was laughing at you. “Sorry, sorry! It tastes delicious, of course.”

“Simeon! That’s so mean. And after I went to all the trouble.”

He gazed at you with soft, slightly teary eyes. “Well, if you’re going to see me so helpless like this, I wanted a little payback.” He laughed at your pout, but then winced and clutched at his temple.

“See what your playing around has brought you?” you tried to scold, but your worried face gave you away. You handed him the bowl. “Eat at least a little more and I’ll find you something to change into; your clothes are soaked.”

After you located some pajamas you returned to take the bowl from Simeon.

“Sorry, I could only finish half,” he said.

“Even a little will help. Here,” you gave him the medicine and the water, “time for this.” After he’d taken it, you said, “Okay, turn around.”

He looked so confused. “What?”

You raised the pajamas. “We need to get you changed. I’ll unbutton your collar.”

Uncertainly, he looked away and you carefully unfastened his shirt. His skin was too hot so you laid your hands on the back of his neck, hoping your fingers would feel cool and soothing.

He jumped and turned back, his own hand coming up to hold his neck where yours had been. “I think I can handle the rest myself,” he said hurriedly. He snatched the pajamas but hesitated. “Sorry, but could you help me into the bathroom?”

“Of course!” You moved out of the way so he could stand and held onto his elbow to steady him. Together you shuffled to the doorway.

“I’ll handle it from here.”

You were worried. “You’re swaying a lot, are you sure? I promise not to look.”

“Please,” said Simeon with a sad smile. “I’d like to hold onto a little dignity.”

“Okay, but call for me the instant you need me.”

While Simeon was busy, you took the opportunity to straighten out his sheets. They weren’t as sweat-soaked as his clothes had been, so you deemed them fine for now.

After that task was done, you sat restlessly. Simeon seemed to be taking a long—

A clatter from the bathroom and a thud made you instantly sprint over, yanking the door open without a thought. Simeon was slumped down next to the counter. You stepped over the toothbrush and cup he had knocked over on his way down and knelt next to him. He was breathing heavily and didn’t seem to notice you.

“Simeon, are you alright? Uh, aside from the obvious.”

His eyebrows furrowed and he turned glazed eyes towards you. He didn’t say anything, but he brought a hand up to cup your face.

You pressed your palm against his forehead. This was bad. “Simeon, we have to get you back to bed.” Again, he didn’t really respond, but when you started to stand, he made the effort to come up with you. Leaning on you heavily this time, you started back across the room.

It was then that you noticed. Simeon had managed to change into his pajama pants but hadn’t gotten to the shirt yet. He was clammy, but you couldn’t help but notice the fragrance of lavender and bergamot lingering on his skin. You started to feel hot, too, but it probably wasn’t due to a virus. He’s ill, you reminded yourself, this is not the time for any weird thoughts.

Once he was safely situated in bed you took his temperature again. It had spiked, but hopefully the medicine would kick in soon. There were cooling pads in his bathroom. You brushed the hair over his forehead aside gently so you could apply one. It looked so painful for him that your heart ached.

He seemed to already be asleep, but he brought his hand up to catch yours. He opened his mouth, but had to swallow hard before he could find his voice. “Thank you for taking, the-the time. To come.”

“Of course,” you said quickly. “I couldn’t be easy until I had seen your condition myself.”

He cracked an eye to look at you. “But Solomon said. Said no one could… the spell… come in…”

“He managed it somehow. I couldn’t just leave you alone!” You busied yourself with placing the cooling sheet on his forehead so you wouldn’t tear up. If you hadn’t come, would they really have just left him to handle this by himself? You started to get angry at Solomon and Luke.

“Don’t frown,” whispered Simeon. “I like your smile. It gives me, uh, strong. Ha. Strength.”

Tears really did start to well up. “Simeon, I’m so sorry you have to feel like this.” You stroked his hair softly. “I wish I could just kiss your pain away.”

“You could try?” He puckered up, but then relaxed into a pained smile. “No, I know you—didn’t mean it like that.”

You clenched your fist. He’s a sick person. You can’t take advantage of a sick person, but he was just… you leaned in quickly, planting a kiss on top of his head. “I wish I could do more.”

“You’ve already done… Just having you here…” He was drifting off again. “Which one is the angel?” he whispered, almost to himself. Then he stirred a little more. “Actually—”

“Name it,” you said.

“Could you sing? Is there a song, of—of healing…”

You bit your lip, trying to think. “Maybe like a lullaby? I’m not sure I could…”

“Please? You’re so lovely. So lovely… please, your song would be lovely. It doesn’t have, doesn’t have to be a real song. Just your voice. I just could listen to your voice for eternity. Eternity with you… would be nice.”

You nearly shrieked with how adorable he was being. Face burning, you started with a few hesitant notes. Simeon instantly smiled so serenely that your voice broke. You cleared your throat and started again more confidently.

It didn’t take long before he was sleeping peacefully; you let your voice taper off. You gently touched his cheek. His skin seemed a bit cooler, but you were still worried.

“How is he?” asked Solomon from behind you. Luke was next to him, vibrating with anxiety. Had they heard you signing?

You went to the door so you could whisper. “He’s sleeping alright now, and I think the medicine is working but he should still be monitored."

“Do you need to be relieved? We could probably take over if you’d like to go back to the House of Lamentation.” Luke nodded vigorously, but didn’t seem to trust himself to speak.

You balked. “Didn’t you say the spell shouldn’t be crossed that often?”

Solomon smirked at you. “Perhaps.”

“Solom—" began Luke at a yell, before he caught himself. All of you turned to look at Simeon, but he didn’t stir. Luke continued in a stage whisper, “This isn’t the time for pranks.”

You snorted softly. “It doesn’t matter. I’m clearly the one most capable of looking after a sick person. I’m staying.”

Solomon chuckled, and Luke, instead of being offended, hung his head. “I agree that would be best,” said Solomon. Well, then, we’ll leave you to it.”

Once they’d gone, you went back to check Simeon’s cooling pad and touch his cheek again. No change in either. Well, it wouldn’t do to worry too much. At first you tried to borrow a book and read by the fire, but every time Simeon shifted your head shot up anxiously.

Finally, you decided it would be easier just to remain next to him. You knelt on the floor next to him. You were feeling a bit tired, yourself, so you rested your head on the bed. But what if something changed and he needed you? Then you grasped the solution and his hand in one. Now you’d be able to feel if he woke up or was too hot. With that security, you allowed yourself to drift to sleep.

There was a soft touch against your head and you jolted upright. Was Simeon—he was awake and smiling at you. He’d been patting your hair with one hand while the other still grasped yours. You pouted at your faulty alarm system, but didn’t let go.

“How do you feel?” you asked, rubbing a hand over your face before you reached to feel his. He had removed the now-warm cooling pad, so you were able to feel that his temperature was much lower than it had been before. The edges of his curtains were dark, so it must still be the middle of the night, only a few hours.

“I don’t have a lot of energy, but my mind feels clearer.”

You handed him the thermometer. “That’s good!” Once it beeped, you took it from him and handed him the plate of apples. “It’s still a little high, but your fever has gone down.”

Simeon had already eaten three shadow-apple rabbits. “It’s because I have such an excellent and comforting nurse,” he said, squeezing your hand. You’d forgotten he was still holding it.

“I didn’t really do anything,” you demurred.

“Nonsense. An angel doesn’t get sick easily. Don’t mention this to Luke, but I was really quite worried about it. It was a great relief to have someone so capable with me. I could rest easily knowing you were here. It doesn’t hurt that the nurse is cute, as well.”

“Simeon,” you protested lightly. “Stop, or I’ll die, from embarrassment.”

“I’d never allow that,” he said, but yawned.

You collected yourself. “You still need some sleep. I’ll get you some more water, but then you should lie down again.”

“Only if you’ll lie down with me.”

You nearly tripped on your way to the sink. “Excuse me?”

He just smiled innocently. “You can’t have gotten enough rest kneeling like that.”

Was he doing it on purpose or did he really not hear himself sometimes? You cleared your throat and ignored him, wordlessly filling his glass. When you handed it off, you said, “I’ll just get some rest on the couch, and you can call if you need me.”

His hand caught yours again. “I’m doing a little better, but you really do comfort me. Are you sure you won’t stay here?” His light blue eyes shimmered as he gazed at you expectantly. What were you going to do, say no?

“Fine, just for a bit,” you said halfheartedly. He scooted over and you climbed in. He had arranged for an arm to be around your shoulders and he pulled you in close. “Are you sure this will be restful for you?”

He nuzzled into your hair and breathed deeply. “Mm, yes,” he whispered. “If I can get rewarded like this, maybe I should think about getting sick more often.”

You jerked back to look him in the eye. “Don’t even joke about it,” you scolded.

“Ah, I apologize.” He still smiled, though.

“Seriously, Simeon, you have to take care of yourself.” You were tired and your eyes felt hot. “I was so worried.”

He instantly softened. “I’m sorry,” he said, pressing a kiss to your brow. “I’m sorry,” he said as he kissed an escaping tear away. His hand came up to cup your cheek. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, meaning something else as he kissed you on each corner of your mouth. Then he kissed you fully. He was still warm, too warm, but soft and sweet, only the firmness of his hand betraying how deeply he felt about you.

All too soon he pulled back to plant one last one on your forehead. “Get some rest,” he said, tucking you under his chin and against his chest.

You didn’t know how he thought you could.

[kirkwallgremlin]

Under the Stars

Carver x Alistair, 1695 words. Tags: first kiss, picnics, boys being bisexual under the stars

Summary: Alistair Theirin and Carver Hawke reluctantly attend a formal event as Warden representatives. They discover that it’s actually much nicer outside under the stars. Written for the prompt “staring at the other’s lips, trying not to kiss them before giving in” from @natalyelle but tumblr ate the original ask 💔

read on ao3

* ~ *

One advantage of being a Grey Warden, Alistair often thought, was the general lack of expected involvement in fancy politicised events.

Of course, that wasn’t always the case, and Alistair found himself now standing awkwardly to the side of one such event, wearing an uncomfortably stiff formal uniform and doing his very best to avoid the attention of the well dressed ladies trying to catch his eye. It had been easier when he hadn’t been alone, when he’d been able to look busy in conversation, unable to give them any time.

Not that he was pretending to be interested in talking to Carver, of course. He was always interested in what his fellow Warden had to say and it had definitely been a relief when the Warden Commander had told him who’d be accompanying him when he’d insisted the Wardens made an appearance.

But now his fellow Warden had wandered off to do… something, and Alistair was left trying to pretend he actually knew what he was doing.

“Got you something,” Carver said, reappearing beside him as if he knew he was the subject of Alistair’s thoughts, a plate of finger food clutched in his hands. It wasn’t entirely clear what the food was, other than something fancy and no doubt expensive. “Dunno what they are but they taste good.”

“Were you meant to take the whole plate?” Alistair asked, amused. Carver glanced down at it and shrugged as Alistair helped himself. Even on closer inspection it wasn’t clear exactly what he was eating but Carver was right - it was good.

“They didn’t stop me when I grabbed it,” he said, popping one delicately in his mouth. “I thought maybe we could get out of here. Find somewhere outside.”

“It’s a tough decision,” Alistair said, already moving towards the external door. “But you have made a very compelling argument. Even better if you’re throwing in that plate of food. Let’s go.”

They found a quiet place in a courtyard outside, close enough that a quiet rumble of noise from the party inside still filled the air but with enough silence that they finally felt alone. A wash of dim light filled the area, radiating out from the main building, illuminating the area enough that Alistair could see both Carver and the stars.

Carver offered him the plate then set it down on the low wall beside them, close enough they could both reach it.

“Reckon you can catch this in your mouth?” he asked, holding up a bit of food.

“Try me,” Alistair said, opening his mouth. He caught the first two Carver threw, missing the third, which hit him directly in the face as Carver laughed.

“You try, then,” he said, brushing the side of his face clean and throwing one back at Carver. It hit his cheek and Carver looked at him in mock offence.

“You didn’t give me time to be ready,” he said, throwing one back.

“A warden should always be ready, Hawke,” Alistair teased.

“Shut it, Theirin,” Carver said, his mouth full as they lapsed into silence again, gazing out over the gardens. They were beautiful but Alistair hated to think of the work that must go into maintaining them.

“I hate this uniform.” Alistair said after a moment, pulling at the collar. “We have perfectly functional everyday ones but they insist on forcing us into these… things for formal events.”

“They should’ve gotten your expert fashion opinion,” Carver said with a sideways smirk. He tossed another tiny portion of food into the air, catching it in his mouth.

“I probably could have done a better job,” Alistair said. “At least I’d make them comfortable. And maybe they could do with a few patterns. Even more stripes. Get rid of this awful itchy collar. Who knows, I could have a new career in fashion if this Warden thing stops working out.”

“I like the uniforms,” Carver shrugged. “They show off muscles quite nicely.”

“It does make your arms look very good,” Alistair acknowledged. He’d tried not to notice but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t looked.

“You’re not wrong,” Carver said with a cheeky grin in his direction. “But... it wasn’t my muscles I was looking at.”

He looked away with the end of his sentence, his eyes fixed steadily on the gardens in front of them, and Alistair felt his cheeks grow hot. The cool night air was a contrast on his warm skin.

“It’s nice out here.” Alistair said, breaking the moment of silence that followed Carver’s words, though he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to. There was something comfortable in the moment. Besides, he really didn’t know what else to say to that, not without making his own face even redder. “Much nicer than in there, anyway. Quieter. Less noise and attention. You can see the plants and the stars and… the trees.”

Carver snorted.

“It’s not hard to be nicer than in there, full of those pompous asses.”

“Imagine if I’d become the king of Ferelden.” Alistair’s voice was soft. He tried not to think about how close he’d come to that. “I’d have been stuck at all kinds of fancy posh events like this and they’d probably care more if I left.”

“You’d probably be able to snap your fingers and demand more of these any time you wanted though,” Carver pointed out, placing one of the few remaining morsels of food into his mouth.

“You’re right, I’ve made an awful mistake turning down the throne.” Alistair laughed. “I wonder how her majesty would feel if I tried to take it back now. Sorry Anora, I know I gave up all claim to the throne but you see, there were these excellent snacks at that event last week, and...”

He trailed off with a laugh. Carver laughed with him.

“I’m glad you didn’t become king,” he said.

“Oh?”

Carver turned to face him again, leaning casually against the wall beside them.

“If you were king, you’d be stuck somewhere else across the room, surrounded by important people, and I’d be here with somebody else, probably bored out of my brain.”

“You’d find a way to make it fun, I’m sure,” Alistair said. “You’re good at making things fun. Even the dullest things I can possibly think off, like… listening to boring speeches. Or giving boring speeches. Or… I don’t know, washing socks.”

Carver shrugged.

“Maybe. I’d rather be here with you though,” he said, smiling as he caught Alistair’s eye again. “I like being with you.”

“I like being with you too,” Alistair said, smiling back at him, and it was true. Things were more fun to do with Carver around, and Alistair felt happier when he was. Carver made him laugh, made him want to be the best person he could be, and with Carver, he never felt like he had to pretend to be anything he wasn’t or to pretend he was ok when he wasn’t.

There really wasn’t anybody he’d rather be here with than Carver.

While the circumstances of Carver’s Joining - hauled from the Deep Roads on the brink of death - hadn’t been ideal, Alistair was very grateful that at least it had brought them together.

He realised he’d become distracted, caught up in his own thoughts, and he focused on bringing his attention back to Carver, the way Carver still looked at him, the way his eyes fixed steadily on Alistair’s face.

“It’s beautiful out here,” Alistair said, trying to ignore the way his mouth was inexplicably suddenly very dry.

Carver’s lips curved into a smile.

“You already said that.”

“Did I?” Alistair said absentmindedly, trying as hard as he could not to think about that smile, to tear his eyes and his thoughts away from those lips. His heartbeat sounded in his ears, a steady beat, all but drowning out the distant noise from inside.

“Yeah,” Carver said and Alistair’s eyes finally lifted away from Carver’s mouth to meet his eyes. They always made him think of the sky, blue and bright, the kind of eyes you could get lost in if you looked too long.

They were even more beautiful than the stars.

“Alistair?” Carver said and Alistair felt the blood rush to his cheeks, wondering if he had spoken the thought out loud. But he still didn’t look away, couldn’t look away, as Carver’s eyes now flicked down towards Alistair’s mouth.

He didn’t know exactly what happened next, if he moved or if Carver did, but suddenly his lips were against Carver’s and Carver’s were against his and Carver was all he could think about. Nothing else mattered, not the party inside, not all the people there, not their responsibilities. Nothing mattered but Carver and the way his lips felt against Alistair’s, the way his hand crept around Alistair’s back, pulling him closer.

When Carver broke the kiss, stepped back, his hand lingered on Alistair’s waist, a smile curving across his face. Alistair opened his mouth to say something but words failed him as he gaped at Carver, wondering if Carver would do it again, would let him do it again.

“I never thought I’d see you speechless,” Carver said. “Maybe I should’ve tried that earlier.”

Alistair’s cheeks grew hot again and Carver smiled at him reassuringly, his grip on Alistair’s hip tightening ever so slightly as he leaned forward.

“Then again, I always like listening to you talk.”

“I can’t say I’d mind being shut up like that,” Alistair said, conscious of how quiet his voice was. Carver was so close, though, that it really didn’t matter. “In fact, you’re welcome to do it anytime you want. More than welcome in fact. Although-”

He didn’t get to finish the thought before Carver took advantage of his newfound strategy.

“I said you were good at finding ways to make things fun,” Alistair told him breathlessly when Carver stepped back again and the other Warden laughed.

“Shame I’m still bored though,” he said. “I guess I better try again.”

“A terrible shame,” Alistair said. “I do hope I can find a way to help.”

And this time, it was him that leaned in to kiss Carver.

[stardancerluv]

When You Take Care of Each Other

Part One of Three: You had a crappy day...started bad...but Roman helped end it much better.

Arthor’s Note: Roman taking care if his girl after her bad day. Wanted to show he could be tender. In the next one you will see how she takes care of him. In third one you will what happens when their moods clash and they are both are in bad places. All the pieces will have moments will have sex. This one was more intimate.

Warning: depressed feelings, angst, softdaddy!kink, fingering, kissing & mentioning of male arousal.

Sometimes, you would come back to the penthouse and you would be so tired, you would just climb into bed and cry. Sure your world had gotten much better for since you became Roman’s girl but stress and deadlines had not ceased to exist.

Today was one of those days, where your stress consumed you. After leaving the elevator, you had managed to stop and pull off your shoes, your coat. Life was feeling particularly heavy that day.

You continued down the hall. You didn’t pop your head into Roman’s office to see if he was there or let him know you were home. You just kept on shuffling to the bedroom, the two of you shared.

You shed the last of your clothes. Without a stitch on, you walked into the bathroom. A quick shiver overcame you when your feet touched the cold dark marble. You managed to place a towel and your robe near the warmer. Then you drew yourself a bath.

You were so raw from your day that you didn’t have the energy to put soap or even relaxing bath salts into the water. Sitting on the edge of the tub, you turning the knobs you turned off the water. Reaching up, you unpinned your hair then stepping in, you sighed. Drawing your knees close to your chest and wrapping your arms around them, laying your head down you let yourself begin to relax.

Tears filled and fell from your tired eyes. Soft ragged breathes came from you. As you continued to rest your cheek on your knee your sadness and your frustration finally began to melt away. Though a sense of tiredness and feelings of being worn out remained. Some sleep and perhaps a drink later would help.

It was times like this that you would shy away from Roman. You never wanted to be the one who would bring a dark, gray cloud over him. His struggle with his own demons were dark and bad enough.

Since becoming an item an interesting development unraveled. There were times when you felt like this and he’d not be far from his own darkness. The two of you would spiral into a cyclone of drinking and dark almost angry lustful hours, on occasion It would last a few days But that was rare. Those were the days, when you would be closest to the darker side of how he maintained his power. His mask, his knives and you’d completely submit to him and his whims. Eventually, you both would emerge with clearer hearts and minds.

There were other times when he would pull you and free you from your darkness. When he did, he always had uncanny ability to know just what you needed.

Mostly, you were not ruffled by the tribulations of life. You wouldn’t allow any of them to take a hold. In those days, you pulled Roman free.

Right now however, all you wanted to do was sleep.

*******

Roman was on the phone with Falcone when he saw a shadow lurch by his door.

“Listen, I have to go.”

He knew by how that shadow moved, you were not having a good day. Shedding his suit jacket, he left it at his desk and he headed down to the kitchen. On the way there, he straightened your shoes and the belt on your coat.

Once in the kitchen, he grabbed the sweets he had bought earlier for the two of you to enjoy. Now was a good as time as any.

When he arrived in the bedroom he didn’t smell the sweet oils or calming bath salts either of you would buy so he that told him just how much you needed him. Taking off his shoes, he peered into the bathroom and saw you huddled in the water. “Aw, baby.” He said softly.

You barely looked over. Going over to you he knelt near you and gently ran his hand on your back.

“Did you have a bad day?” He cooed softly.

You nodded. He continued rub your back, he could feel you relax under his touch. “Would you like daddy to take care of you?”

“Yes.” You finally managed to say.

“Ok, good.” He hated seeing you like this.

Before you, Victor would try and help him but would only tell him what he thought he wanted to hear. Sometimes, that made his darker moments longer.

You were the only one who made them really see them for what they were and try to get him out of them. So when he could help you and he was in a good enough place, he liked doing it.

Getting up, he went over to the towel warmer. At least you had done that for yourself, he mused. He brought over your towel and robe. He put the robe down. “Alright, lets get you out of there before you get all wrinkly.”

He helped you out, reached down he pulled the stopper. After wrapping the the towel around your curvy frame, his arms wrapped around you, holding the towel in place.

You stiffened, though he knew it was because of your mood. It was some moments but eventually you softened. Tossing the towel away, he then with your help, you slipped your robe on. It was your big fluffy one. He knotted it just so. As he looked you up and down, he was reminded of how you looked especially cute in it.

He drew your face up, you fought him a little and your kept your eyes down cast. “Baby, if you were feeling this down you could have grabbed daddy’s. I know how much you like disappearing in it.” He tried to catch your eye.

You lip quivered. “I didn’t want to get it wet from my bath.” You said in a small voice.

His thumb caressed your chin. “Next time grab it. Daddy wants you to feel loved and cared for, he knows you get alot of comfort from it.”

“Ok.” You replied.

“My beautiful sad girl, we have to make her feel better.” Very easily then, he picked you up, after short hesitation he felt as you wrapped your arms around him. He smiled as he felt you nestle in close and melt against him.

Walking back out to the bedroom, kneeling on the bed he placed you in the middle of it. Leaving, you only a moment, he went and dimmed the lights.

Returning to you, he laid on his side beside you. “Baby, do you want to tell me what made your day bad?”

You turned your head to look at him. “Was just a...a bad day.” You sighed.

He nodded. “Ok. Sometimes, those can be the worst.”

You nodded and looked away again, as you did for a little while he just rested his forehead on your shoulder closest to him. Deeply he inhaled you and the sweet scents that lingered on the robe.

A little later, he tested the waters to see how you were feelings. He pressed some soft kisses on you. When you didn’t resist or tell him no he continued.

Reaching down he gently undid the belt. Slowly, he let his hand slip under the soft warmth of it. He caressed your stomach and your hip. He heard and felt as you inhaled.

Moving his hand higher, he cupped one of your breasts. With his hand he nudged the robe away, in doing so he saw that even though he had barely began to touch you, that you were as taunt as a little bud.

He rose an eyebrow and looked at you. “Is baby, already happy with daddy wanting you to feel better?”

“Yes, please daddy don’t stop.”

He smiled gently. “I couldn’t even imagine stopping.” Roman let his hand move just so between your breasts. He loved how your curves and softness were just open for him. His lips and tongue followed his fingers.

He could feel as your heart had begun to pick up speed, it made his lips curl into a smile as he continued to kiss and touch you.

As your breathing grew shallower, he looked up and saw how good you felt with how your face was awash with pleasure it made him happy. It looked like whatever had bothered you was finally diminishing.

He inwardly groaned with his own pleasure as he felt one of your hands find him, as your hand rested on him outside his slacks, he stopped your hand as moved to his belt. “Baby,“ He said softly. “No, no right now is about you.” He brought your hand back to where it was. “But if you want to keep your hand there you can but that’s all I will allow right now.”

He bit back the chuckle of the small pout that had formed on your lips. “You can help me feel better later. But not right now.”

He knew you would make him feel amazing but right now it was your time. He could wait. Not always but right now he could.

The pout vanished as his hand cupped you, your softest spot. “I love that you share this with daddy.” He squeezed it gently, letting his fingers begin to caress you. “So wet and welcoming, such good girl.” He said softly by your ear, he kissed your throat there and even nibbled a little. Loving that as he did so, he pulled such passionate sounds from you.

“Daddy hates seeing you so sad. He is glad you are beginning to feel better.” A deep sound from his chest came as your hand moved on him. “Baby,” he couldn’t swallow down the one sound, it felt too good. “Focus on what I’m doing, this is your time.” He cooed, he nuzzled at you again quickening his pace.

As he did he smiled. He felt yourself abandon yourself to what he was doing. Soon, the robe hung from you as your arched and writhed. Right now was not the time for you to ask and he was glad you knew. Distantly, he knew in the end it would be too much to count. Yet, he would continue to touch and caress you.

“Daddy, daddy” you said later, breathless. Your eyes were vibrant and clear, when they met his. “Please...please.”

“Please, what?” He quickened him fingers.

“I can’t...I can’t what?”

“Cum sweetly for me one more time?” He asked eyebrows raised.

“Yes, I will be a mess, I’ve already cum so much.”

He smiled and drew closer, his lips brushed yours as he spoke. “One more then.” He slowed his fingers now. Your lips found his and the two of you finally shared a kiss but your broke it as you arched sharply as he made you came a final time. You were breathless as you looked at him. He let you watch as he licked his fingers clean of your soft delicate tangy self.

He finally let his fingers leave you. “Feel good baby?”

“Yes.” Your eyes were heavy from it.

“Good, now sleep.” Gently he held your hand against him still very hard in his slacks. “Maybe later you can make daddy feel good too.”

A soft groan came from you. “I would like that.” You whispered.

You moved and gave him a kiss before curling into his side. He held you there as he let his arm wrap around and hold you there. Despite being so out of breath, it soon evened out and he knew you had fallen asleep. Eyeing the clock on the nightstand behind you, he smiled. Enough time before the club opened. He closed eyes, letting himself drift off.

@spn-obsessed-dean @vintagemichelle91 @xxxeatyourh3artoutxxx @ewanfuckingmcgregor @zodiyack @angel98624 @frenchgirlinlondon @nebulastarr @emyliabernstein @thepeachreads @itsknife2meetu @omghappilyuniquebouquetlove @nomnomnomnamja @poe-kadot26 @top-rumbelle-fan @babydoll97 @hazel-nuss @vcat55 @feelthemadnessinside @rosionis @queenofgotham800 @brookisbi @peachthatdrinkslemonade @johallzy @foreverhockeytrash @frostypenguinoz @rentskenobi @starwarsslytherin @proffesionalclown @chogisss @shantellorraine @xxinvisiblexx @speedypartyducksuitcase @blondekel77 @saphic-susperia @drarrylov3r @i-cant-hear-you16 @deadlymistress24 @yesqueenofthelight @lemairepstuff

[hyucks-archive]

perhaps; maybe.

word count: 9,765

genre: romance, angst

member(s): mark, featuring donghyuck, jeno, and the other dreamies

warning(s): none!

author’s note: this actually started out as a fluff fic but i guess i haven’t gotten over angst yet

Mark watches the students stroll into the lecture hall one by one, the conversation that his friends are having slowly dwindling into background noise. Mark props an arm on the table, resting his chin in his palm, noticing how majority of the students have their earbuds plugged in, a coffee or tea in hand. He too, grew up hearing the anecdotes of how college life is always lonely and independent, and that most would hang around campus without friends. It’s different for Mark, though. He’s lucky enough to be taking the same degree as some of his friends. He’s even luckier that all of his friend group belong to this university.

When the twelfth student walks in, he notices how the aura that surrounds this person is significantly different from the rest. Cladded in a full black outfit, Mark notices how unlike the others, you don’t have music playing in your ears, neither do you have a cup of beverage in hand. In fact, it doesn’t even look like you have anything in the tote you have slung on your shoulder. Mark watches as you take a seat by the left aisle, two rows in front of the row he’s situated in.

“What are you staring at?” Jeno interrupts, leaning shoulder-to-shoulder with Mark. He follows in the direction Mark’s eyes are looking in, to be greeted by your unwelcoming back. “Why are you staring at that kid?” Jeno questions. Mark shrugs. Mark remembers seeing you around campus numerous times, even more frequently in lectures, and consistently in that one tutorial class the two of you have in common. He has always noticed something different about you; maybe it’s your aura, or maybe it’s just Mark being the curious boy he is. The common baseline is that you intrigue him, and you somehow always manage to catch his attention, whether you know it or not.

“Are you guys staring at 06?” Donghyuck chimes in, resting his arm on Jeno’s shoulder. The three boys are now collectively staring at the big ‘0’ and ‘6’ printed on the back of your letterman jacket, that clearly does not categorise you into any athletic club, neither is it merchandise from the university. “Do you guys know 06?” Mark questions, turning to face his two friends. Jeno shakes his head, while Donghyuck is more than eager to share. “I hear 06’s really chill. Doesn’t ‘do’ friends,” he says, using his fingers to make inverted commas at the word ‘do’, “Doesn’t really care for school either. 06 kind of just,” Donghyuck takes a pause, trying to think of the right word. He settles for, “Exists.”

Mark and Jeno nod their heads in understanding. Mark resettles his gaze on the back of your head. Jeno nudges him, “You interested in 06 or something?”

Mark recalls the one time he’s ever heard you speak. It was during a tutorial, where you were pinpointed to answer. He had never thought much of you before that, simply falling into the assumption that you are one of the introverted kids who prefers to keep to themselves. But the way you stood up confidently, and the way your booming voice captured the entire class, painted you in a completely different light compared to what Mark had imagined. He had always thought that you’d have a soft, timid voice, afraid to make a mistake, like most of the other quiet kids. But when he saw the way you answered the professor’s question without any doubt or fear of being wrong, he realised you were different.

He takes a moment to ponder upon Jeno’s question. “06 is,” Mark pauses, pursing his lips, “Interesting.”

Donghyuck scans the café, finally spotting Renjun, Jaemin, Chenle, and Jisung by the large glass panel. “Over there,” he says, leading the way. Mark and Jeno follow behind, exchanging smiles and small waves with their friends. “You guys already ordered?” Donghyuck says, reaching for Renjun’s fork. Renjun slaps the boy’s hand away, “Get your own cake,” he chimes. Donghyuck mimics him in an annoyingly high tone, switching targets. He’s now going for Chenle’s cake. Chenle lets him eat it.

“I’ll order,” Mark offers, “What do you guys want?” he asks, directing his question at Donghyuck and Jeno. “I’ll have my usual,” Jeno says, to which Mark nods his head. Donghyuck looks past Mark’s shoulders, trying to get a view of the menu, but something else catches his eye instead. It’s the very familiar back view with the big ‘06’ printed on that he had discussed with his friends about earlier. “Hey, it’s 06 again,” Donghyuck comments, gesturing in your direction with his chin.

“06?” Renjun murmurs, furrowing his eyebrows as he looks in the direction where Donghyuck had guided towards. He squints his eyes, finding the face of the owner of the letterman jacket to be fairly familiar. When he realises it’s you, he snaps his fingers, “Ah, I know 06,” Renjun exclaims. Mark’s interest is immediately piqued. He turns to look at Renjun, “You know 06?”

“Yeah, 06’s in my ethics class,” he says.

“Is it true? 06 is really chill and doesn’t have any friends?” Jeno asks.

“06 is probably the most carefree person I’ve ever met,” Renjun describes, “Doesn’t care what people think. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve even seen 06 smile.” Renjun thinks back to the many times he has seen you in class. You always donned the same blank expression, even when the class would erupt in laughter at the lecturer’s or the students’ jokes. He had wondered for a brief moment if you simply weren’t paying attention, but when you had shared your opinion that made everyone cackle in their seats, you remained neutral with your poker face.

The topic is dropped when Chenle begins to talk about an incident that happened in class today. Mark heads to join the queue to order. He happens to be standing behind you.

Though there is a good amount of distance between the two of you, Mark is still able to pick up the subtle scent of clean linen that diffuses from you. It’s extremely pleasant and welcoming, a contrast from your cold and unamiable aura. Mark watches as you reach into your tote bag, aggressively digging around for something. He isn’t able to see your expression, for your back is still turned against him. He however, manages to catch the, “Shit,” that escapes from your mouth.

You furrow your eyebrows, flipping the minimal items you have in your tote bag around, desperate to find your card or some loose change. In your rush this morning, you had forgotten your wallet on the dining table back home. You groan, running a frustrated hand through your hair. You sigh, about to leave the line, when a low voice speaks from behind, “Do you need help?” You jump at the suddenness, turning around to look up to be greeted by a black-haired boy who has on an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says. You notice how defined his cheekbones are, how his cheeks sink in slightly with his smile. You aren’t sure if you’re just seeing things, but you swear you noticed for a second that his eyes were twinkling.

Realising that you’ve been staring for a tad bit too long, you immediately avoid eye contact, snapping back to your senses. You shake your head. “It’s fine,” you say, taking the first step to move out of the line. The boy stops you, “You’re not ordering anymore?” he asks. This time, you notice how his brows are raised, a tiny mole on his left cheek, his lips seemingly forming a ‘o’. Usually, you’d just walk away murmuring your answer, but this boy seemed genuinely too nice for you to just ignore.

“I uh,” you bite down on your lower lip, “Forgot my wallet.”

You were expecting the conversation to end, but the boy only giggles at your issue. He tilts his head to the side a little, “I’ll pay,” he says. From the sincere smile that he’s giving you, you can tell that he means what he said. But, you still shake your head, refusing to be indebted to some stranger you happened to meet on campus. You’d have no way of repaying him, aside from deliberately meeting up with him; another thing you didn’t want, the risk of becoming personally acquainted to someone.

“Too late,” he says, giving you a light shove, “It’s your turn to order.”

You’re unable to register the situation fully, the barista greeting you with a polite smile. “What would you like?” he asks, ready to key in your order. “Oh,” you manage out, only collecting your thoughts now. “I’ll just get a chai tea to-go, please,” you say. The boy behind you takes a step forward, his shoulder brushing against yours, beginning to place his order. You take a few steps to the side due to the physical contact. Luckily, you’re able to just disguise it as moving aside to wait for your order, since there was no need for you to remain at the cashier.

When he has completed the payment, he walks over to join you.

“I’ll pay you back,” you say. “Sure,” his smile still plastered on his face, “You can just look for me in class.”

You stop for a moment, eyes shifting about as you try to dig into the deep depths of your memory. You don’t remember having seen him before. Granted, you honestly don’t even remember a single face of anyone in any of your classes.

“We take the same class?” you ask. Mark thinks you’re joking, so he laughs. But when he sees the slightly raised brow, genuine confusion in your face, he realises you’re being serious, that you’ve never noticed him before. It leaves a slightly sour taste in his mouth, but he manages to maintain a smile. “You’re in all of my lectures,” he says, “And one tutorial.”

You nod your head. That makes things a lot less of a headache for you. “I’ll pay you tomorrow, then,” you say. Mark nods his head in acknowledgement, reaching a hand out, “I’m Mark,” he introduces. You stare at his extended hand for a moment – you’ve never encountered a situation where you’re basically forced to return the introduction. You know it would come off as rude if you choose to not shake his hand, but you’re not one to care for others’ opinions. Life wouldn’t be fun if you wasted it worrying about how your every little action would frame the opinion of someone else. Not that life is fun for you, anyway.

That is why you simply look away from Mark’s hand, towards the collection counter. Mark stares at your side profile, unsure of what your actions mean. Usually, the other party would get the message that you don’t want to exchange names, but this boy, Mark, is different. He’s persistent, tilting his body in the direction of your line of vision, “Um, hello?” he says.

You turn to look at him. “I don’t do friends,” you state.

Mark recalls the conversation with Jeno and Donghyuck pre-lecture, where Donghyuck had shared about how you don’t ‘do’ friends. He had assumed it meant something different, but he realises now that it means you don’t make friends with people. He huffs out a smile at the thought; his interest in you seems to only grow as the interaction goes on. You’re different, just as he expected.

Before he’s able to say anything more, the buzzer in his hand lights up, vibrating as an indication that his order is ready. He walks towards the collection counter, and you follow behind. Because of the amount of drinks and plates of food he had ordered, his order was separated into two trays. You look at the trays for a moment – are you feeling nice enough to offer a helping hand? Technically, he can just make two trips.

“Here,” Mark says, holding out your cup of tea that he had already slipped on the sleeve for. Maybe it’s because you realised, he isn’t even going to ask you for your help, or it’s because Mark’s smile makes you want to do something nice, so you offered. “I’ll help you with that,” you say, taking the drink from him, placing it back down on the tray. You lift the tray up, “Where’s your table?”

Mark picks up the other tray, leading the way to the boys. Chenle is the first to notice Mark approaching, and he’s quick to notify the rest of the person following behind Mark. By the time you had arrived at the table, their stares are boring into you. Mark coughs awkwardly, trying to signal at them to stop staring, but his friends don’t seem to get it.

“Hey, 06,” one of them calls. ‘06’; the nickname you somehow go by on campus, just because of the jacket you always have on. You look in the direction of the voice, to be greeted by a somewhat familiar face. You remember him, only because he’s one of the only students from your ethics class who dares to have an opinion on things. You liked his gusto. “Hi,” you say.

You hold up your cup of chai tea by its sleeve, giving a slight tilt of the head at Mark, before turning around to take your leave.

“Damn, Mark, you work fast,” Jeno teases, taking his plate of food over to his side of the table. Mark rolls his eyes, explaining briefly that he simply paid for your drink because you forgot to bring your wallet. Luckily for him, his friends lose interest in topics as quickly as they get interested in them. Everyone is now listening to Jaemin rambling on about how the lecturer in his class is the most unreasonable man he’s ever met in his “many” years of living.

Mark is half-focused on the conversation, but the other half of his mind is occupied by the image of you.

Perhaps it’s the way that you managed to maintain a blank expression without smiling even once, during the entire interaction, or it’s the way you didn’t hesitate to leave without looking back. It could even be the way you’re so nonchalant about everything. Either way, Mark has come to realise one thing.

He can’t keep his eyes off of you.

You run a hand through your hair, exiting the lift. You reach into your bag, pulling out the exact amount of change for the chai tea from yesterday. Entering the lecture hall, you skim through the vicinity, spotting Mark by the middle row. He’s staring up at his purple-haired friend in awe, laughing while hitting the brown-haired boy next to him. Despite the round-frame glasses he has on today, you’re sure that this time, you definitely saw the sparkle in his eyes.

You make your way up to Mark, standing a distance away, behind the purple-haired boy who stands in the way in getting to Mark. You lean to the left a little, waiting for Mark to catch your eye. He doesn’t, but his brown-haired friend notices you, and he’s quick to gesture the black-haired boy towards you. Mark’s smile widens when he makes eye contact with you. He stands up, brushing past the purple-haired boy, towards you. You can’t help but be conscious of the slight tugging at the ends of your lips. You manage to supress it, but it’s undeniable that you just felt the minor urge to smile.

“Hey,” he greets. You hold out the money, “Thanks,” you say. Mark’s fingertips brushes against your palm as he takes the money from you. You turn, about to walk to a different row, but you’re stopped by the slight tugging at your sleeve. You look down, to see two fingers pinching at the end of your sleeve. Your eyes travel up the arm, past the neck, to the eyes of Mark, who is holding on to your sleeve.

“Sit with us,” he says. Mark isn’t sure if the reason he’s offering is because you’re always sitting alone during lectures, or it’s because he wants to be able to prolong the time he’s able to spend with you, without looking like some creep. Either way, he’s anticipating your answer.

Your eyes travel back down to Mark’s two fingers that are still holding on to your sleeve. Mark is lucky he didn’t grab your wrist, because you would’ve shrugged it off so harshly, that it’d probably ruin any chances of him ever wanting to reconcile with you. You’re not sure if Mark grabbed your sleeve with the knowledge of how much you hate physical contact, or if Mark is just so considerate to the point where he won’t lay a finger on someone he doesn’t really know. But the fact that he’s respectful enough to not touch you is the only factor that makes you say, “Okay.”

Mark shifts his things over to the seat next to you. “By the way,” he says, waiting for you to look up. “This is Donghyuck and Jeno,” he introduces, gesturing towards the purple-haired boy then the brown-haired boy. Jeno smiles sweetly, while Donghyuck simply gives a nonchalant bow, before sliding into his seat. They don’t ask for your name. You wonder if Mark had told them not to; maybe your encounter with Mark yesterday had sparked an entire discussion about you. You’re usually not one to care for these things, but you aren’t able to stop the constant thought about the fact that if they did indeed discuss about you, what did Mark have to say?

“Where’s your laptop?” Mark asks, breaking you away from your thoughts. “I don’t bring one,” you reply. You expect his next question, so you explain before he even asks, “I don’t see a need for it.” Mark nods his head, but you’re positive he doesn’t understand why you feel that there’s no need for a laptop.

The lecturer begins at that point, so the two of you turn to focus your attention on the lecture.

“Alright, remember that we’ll be needing your textbook for the next lecture,” the lecturer announces, disconnecting his laptop from the visualiser. The lecture hall is filled with groans and yawns, some students who are quick to leave, while others stay behind to exchange small talk with their peers.

You sling your tote bag over your shoulder, standing up from your seat. Mark notices this, but he’s quick to react. “Hey,” he calls. You turn your head, looking down at the boy. You want to know the reason behind how Mark is always able to keep that same bright smile on his face. Come to think of it, you don’t remember seeing him with a serious expression at all. You continue to stare, waiting for Mark to continue his sentence.

“Do you want to join us for lunch?”

You don’t even spare a moment to hesitate. “No,” you reply.

“You should join us for lunch, 06. We don’t bite,” Jeno adds on. His eyes form pretty crescents when he smiles. You’re about to reject their offer, but Donghyuck cuts in, “I’ll bite. Why should we have lunch with 06?” He doesn’t spare you a glance, but you can tell from his expression, that he’s not your biggest fan. You see Jeno nudging the boy with his elbow, and Mark shooting a look of disapproval. Maybe it’s because you don’t want to let this Donghyuck kid have his way, but you find yourself agreeing to their offer before you’re even able to think twice. “I’m down for lunch,” you say. You’re too busy eyeing Donghyuck’s expression of displeasure to notice Mark’s perked up smile at your agreement.

Jeno and Donghyuck lead the way, while Mark follows your pace as you stroll along behind them. Mark is trying to dig through his brain for a topic to talk to you about. He sneaks a glance at you, your blank expression unreadable.

“Does having lunch with us make you feel uncomfortable?” Mark finally speaks up, turning his head to look at you. You’re quiet for a moment. Usually, the answer ‘yes’ would roll of your tongue without any conscious effort required. “A little,” is what you settle for. Mark nods his head, “I assure you my friends are all nice people,” he says, a small laugh decorating the end of his sentence. You nod your head, biting down on your bottom lip.

Soon enough, Jeno spots the other half of the group already seated in the café. You drag your feet behind the three boys, the stares from the rest evident.

“06 is joining us for lunch,” Jeno informs. Mark gestures you to take a seat by the far left of the table. Donghyuck claims the seat opposite to yours. “We can take turns?” Mark suggests, to which you give a nod of acknowledgement. Mark, Jeno, and two of the other boys head to get their food first. In the meantime, you’re left sitting in an extremely awkward silence. Donghyuck, who had his arms folded, back leaned against his chair, shifts his body to rest his folded arms on the table instead. He looks at you, stare cold and unpleasant. You furrow your brows. “What?” you say.

“Stay away from Mark.”

Your expression hardens further. “What are you talking about?”

“Mark isn’t like you. Stay away,” Donghyuck has a brow raised, his glare menacing. You’re unsure of what you could’ve possibly done to offend the boy to this extent, but you’re not interested enough to ask. You’re robbed of the chance to anyway, when Renjun decides to add himself to the conversation. He throws an arm around Donghyuck, a smile on his lips as he asks, “What’s got the two of you so serious?” Donghyuck shrugs, not forgetting to give you one more glare, almost as though it were a form of warning. You scoff, rolling your eyes as you look away from the two boys who are sitting opposite to you.

You can feel the familiar discomfort in your abdomen. Your hand instinctively finds its way to place pressure on the hurting area, the beads of cold sweat beginning to form. You can already feel your lips becoming drier with every passing second.

You decide there’s nothing worth staying for. If you’re not welcome, you’re not going to force your presence unto people. So you grab your bag, stand up, and begin to walk away from the table. You ignore Renjun’s call for you.

“What the heck did you say to 06?” Renjun hisses, shoving Donghyuck by the arm. “I only said what I needed to say,” the purple-haired boy murmurs in reply. Mark arrives back at the table first, placing his tray of food down. “Where’s 06?” he asks, looking at the empty chair that you once occupied. “Donghyuck said something that probably pissed 06 off,” Renjun tattles, shooting a glare in said boy’s direction. Mark looks to Donghyuck for an explanation, a brow raised questioningly.

Donghyuck shrugs the attention off, “Not my fault 06 can’t take honesty.”

You drop the bottle of painkillers into your bag. You comb your fingers through your hair, the perspiration from earlier causing the strands to cling together. You let out a small breath; at least the torment is over, for now.

You fixate your eyes on the floor, watching as your feet take turns to invade the little space your eyes can capture. You shove your free hand into the pocket of your letterman jacket, a cup of chai tea in your other hand. You replay the words Donghyuck had said to you earlier. Stay away from Mark, he said. Why? You never approached Mark to begin with. Yeah, you’re unfriendly and borderline rude but you’ve never done anything that would warrant an outright warning to keep away from someone. Mark isn’t like you, he said. What’s that supposed to mean? That Mark is the personification of rainbows and galaxies but you’re the personification of dirt and dark alleys?

You don’t understand what Donghyuck has against you. You scoff at the thought of the whole situation – good golly, you didn’t even know of Mark’s existence until he approached you in the café a day ago. Yet suddenly, you’re the biggest threat to Mark, in Donghyuck’s narrative.

You’re so caught up in your thoughts that you jump at the sudden tap on your shoulder, whipping your entire body around so fast that you collide with the being behind you, your chai tea staining his shirt. “I’m so sorry,” you gasp, tugging on the sleeve of your jacket to grab it in your palm, using the cloth to dab at the stains your tea has caused. The being giggles. Your brows furrow instantly; it’s a giggle you’re somewhat familiar with.

You look up to meet eyes with the owner of the giggle, Mark. He stares down at you, noticing the remnants of the ordeal you had been through – the greasy hair, the pale, almost chapped lips, the tired look in your eyes. He doesn’t think much of it, his smile maintaining its charm. “What are you doing here?” you question. Mark points at the building behind you, “I’m running some errands. What are you doing here? You left without saying anything earlier I didn’t expect to still see you around campus,” he beams. Your eyes travel back down, realising now that you still held the hem of his shirt in your hand. You let go, standing upright.

“I just didn’t feel like staying there,” you say. Mark doesn’t probe any further; he has an inkling that Donghyuck must’ve said something offensive. “Do you live on campus?” you ask, eyeing the very obvious chai tea stain on Mark’s shirt. “I don’t. Why?”

“If you don’t mind waiting, I’ll run back to the dorms to get a shirt for you.”

Mark’s smile widens. “That’ll be nice.”

After a short ten-minute walk, you push open the door to your single-room dormitory, also known as your safe space. In your time living here, you’ve never had anyone over. You don’t consider Mark the first, because you never really intended for him to enter your room. He just followed behind and stepped in himself, no invite whatsoever. You’re not really affected by it, retrieving an oversized t-shirt from your wardrobe the only concern in mind.

Mark looks around the small studio apartment, taking in how minimalistic the entire setting is. He realises you don’t even have any photos, memories, or decorations hanging on the wall. Everything is clean and neatly placed, your belongings categorised into the practical and the necessities. He looks over towards you, your head buried under the shirts and jackets you have hanging on the rod. His eyebrows raise in interest when he notices that by the left corner of the wardrobe, hangs another two letterman jackets identical to the one you have on. They all have the big ‘06’ imprinted on the back.

“Here,” you say, holding out a plain black oversized shirt. Mark takes it from you, commenting, “I didn’t know you had three of those,” he gestures to the letterman jacket that you’re semi-drowning in. You slide the door of your wardrobe close, “I have to have a replacement when one of them is in the wash.”

“Is there some meaning behind 6?”

You look into Mark’s eyes. The two of you share a moment. It’s the first time someone has asked about the meaning behind ‘06’. Maybe it’s because nobody else ever had the chance to, but even if they did, they’d probably just be asking for the fun of it. Every time Mark asks you something, you can tell from his gaze that he genuinely wants to know the answer. He genuinely listens to your replies, regardless of how insignificant or dismissive they may be. Maybe it’s because Mark is the first person in a long time that has ever showed even a minute sign of interest in you, but you find yourself satisfying his curiosity.

“There are many meanings to the number 6. The meaning I relate it to is the need to find ways to move past feelings of fear and anxiety, to manifest what I want.”

It’s Mark’s turn to be silent. He looks at you, your expression as blank as it has always been, your eyes shifting around from the awkwardness of the prolonged eye contact. He didn’t expect that answer. People usually either used their birthdates or their favourite number as their ‘representative’ number. You’re the first person to give him an actual meaning behind the decision you made.

“You’re really different,” Mark says, voice almost coming out as a whisper.

Maybe it’s due to the fact that you’ve never been complimented like that before. Heck, you don’t even know if it’s a compliment. But you’re unable to deny the heat that rushes to your face, the warmth that spreads throughout your body. You don’t know if Mark notices. You don’t know if Mark can tell. But when you see his eyes flicker to level with your cheeks, the heat that overwhelms you only intensifies.

Mark’s never been this bold before. He has never been this straightforward with anyone. When you don’t answer, he panics a little, but then he notices the rose pink that decorates your cheeks. Did he, perhaps, make you blush? Is this his first time witnessing something different from your signature blank expression?

“You should go change,” you blurt, averting the topic. You point towards the bathroom, “Over there.”

Mark nods his head, turning around, closing the bathroom door after he enters. You let out a huge breath, pursing your lips. First, he’s the cause of the urge to smile. Second, his words make you blush. Third – you place a hand against your chest, feeling for your heartbeat. Mark makes your heart thump.

You want to be around Mark.

Mark comes out of the bathroom, your oversized shirt decently fitting on him. He smiles, “Thank you,” he says. “I’m really sorry about that,” you say, pointing towards his chai tea-stained shirt. Mark shakes his head, “No big deal. I’ll see you around?”

You nod your head.

“See you around.”

It’s been four days since you’ve last seen Mark. The interval made you realise that your once empty mind is now filled with hints of Mark. His endearing smile would pop up in your mind every once in a while, and his childlike giggles would ring in your ears from time to time. Mark is the warm presence in your otherwise cold world.

You’re preoccupied with your thoughts when there’s a knock on the door. You glance at the clock – 5PM on a Sunday afternoon, and you’re not expecting any guests. You sigh, slipping on an oversized hoodie to cover up your worn-out t-shirt. Running your sleeved-palm over your face, you reach for the door handle, pushing it downwards,

Mark waits patiently for you to answer the door, the t-shirt you had lent him neatly folded in his hands. When you pull the door open, the wind from the swift motion causes your baby hairs to dance along with the wind, tickling the sides of your face. Mark feels his heart skip a beat, the moment playing out in half the time of its actual speed. He swallows.

You look up to meet eyes with Mark. Your brows raise momentarily,

“Sorry,” he begins, “For showing up unexpectedly. I just came by to return this,” he holds out your shirt. You look down at the article of clothing, taking it from his hands, nodding your head in understanding. “Thanks,” you say, reaching to lay the shirt on the table. You look towards Mark once more. “Anything else?” you question, seeing that he’s still standing in the corridor.

Mark looks down at his converse. He contemplates if he should do what he actually came here for. Jeno’s voice replays in his head – just man up and ask 06 to join us. Donghyuck needs to apologise for saying things he shouldn’t have said the other day anyway. Though Mark and the rest of the boys are still unaware of what exactly Donghyuck had said, he agrees with Jeno’s sentiments.

“Actually,” he pauses, biting down on his lower lip. There it is again; the feeling of the two ends of your lips being tugged upwards. You blink multiple times – did you just think Mark is… cute? You almost miss his next sentence, “Do you want to go to the roller rink with the guys?” he ends with a shy smile, his fingers automatically clasping together due to the nerves. He looks at you, patiently waiting for your answer.

Usually, the answer ‘no’ would have escaped your lips before you can even think twice. But at this very moment, you’re standing opposite Mark, looking into his eyes, hesitating. It feels as though you’re beginning to lose the composure you’ve spent your entire life building. The rational ways you’d utilise to stay away from people, they’re starting to become blurry, just because of the boy who stands before you.

The fine line you’ve drawn to divide yourself from the rest of the world has become blurry ever since Mark’s appearance.

To move past the fear and anxiety that comes with building a relationship, in order to manifest the friendship that you seek.

You nod your head. “Sounds cool.”

So you find yourself trailing behind Mark at 5:37PM in the afternoon, eyes roaming around the vicinity in curiosity, taking in the very unfamiliar, loud, neon-filled surrounding. You’ve never been to any place of entertainment before, let alone a roller rink that majority of the population have never even been near. In some way, you guys are lucky enough to be schooling in this area – the roller rink is a ’90s themed hangout spot, with a jukebox that’s unique to every table, in comparison to the central speaker system used in all other modern buildings. A small smile creeps its way up your lips; you’re in a trance from the vibes of the place.

If there’s anything you love in this world, it’s nostalgia. Every movie you’ve ever liked, every series you’ve ever binged, they all screamed the ’90s. You’re extra sold by the fact that the different jukeboxes are rolling tunes from Destiny’s Child, Backstreet Boys, Guns N’ Roses, instead of the 21st century pop or rap that would be blasting in any other joint. Your smile widens, but you don’t even realise it. You’re finding more joy in this dated roller rink than you’ve ever felt anywhere else.

Mark turns around to tell you something. Instead, he stops in his tracks, the smile that spreads across your lips stunning him. The way your eyes light up, complementing your smile, and the way the apples of your cheeks are dabbed in a light scarlet; you’ve never looked more ravishing than you do in this very moment. Mark isn’t sure what’s the reason behind your smile, but he’s glad he managed to capture the moment first-hand.

You’re too busy basking in the glory of the vibes of the place that you don’t realise Mark has stopped walking. You almost bump into him, but you managed to stop in time. You’re now standing a small distance in front of Mark, who’s just staring at you. You don’t realise why, until your cheek muscles provide you with the answer. You let out a small gasp, your smile vanishing instantly. You cough, pursing your lips.

“What?” you say, shamelessly.

Mark doesn’t push for anything. He simply widens his smile, “They’re over there,” he says, pointing to the booth that’s hidden in the corner. You nod your head, gesturing for Mark to continue leading the way, while you followed behind. You mentally slap yourself – you’ve revealed way too many sides of yourself to Mark, that’s telling of who you truly are as a person, and not who you want people to think you are. You shake your head; maybe Mark hasn’t caught on. Maybe Mark just thinks you’re a looney ball. There’s a high possibility of that.

“06!” the blue-haired boy calls, a bright smile accompanying his greeting. “I’m Jaemin,” he says, “Didn’t get to introduce myself the other time, before you left.” You nod your head in acknowledgement.

“I’m Chenle,” the other black-haired, fair skinned one waves. “Jisung,” the brown-haired, coupled with lighter brown highlights, introduces. You nod your head at both of them; you can tell those two can’t be bothered about you. They’re too engrossed in whatever game they’re playing on their handphones.

“Hey, 06,” Jeno greets, as you claim the seat beside him. Donghyuck just shoots you a look, before averting his attention back to the conversation he was having with Renjun. “I’m glad you came,” Jeno continues. “Why’d you leave so quick the other day?”

“No reason,” you reply.

Jeno simply purses his lips, nodding his head. You can tell he doesn’t believe you, but you’re appreciative that he doesn’t probe. Instead, Jeno calls over the table, “Let’s go rollerblade,” to the rest of the boys. Jisung and Chenle are practically dragged away from their phones by Jaemin, while Donghyuck is forced to remain in his seat by Renjun, who runs after the rest. Mark sends you a small smile, “You can just find us later,” he says, before following after the rest of the boys, leaving you and Donghyuck at the booth. You’re only catching on now that you were invited with a motive.

“They’re expecting me to apologise,” Donghyuck states, breaking the silence. You look towards him, his stare still as unwelcoming as it was four days ago. “But I’m not going to.”

You let out a breath of disbelief, furrowing one brow. “I don’t think I’ve ever offended you,” you say.

“You haven’t. But I can see through you,” he says, leaning his body forward tauntingly. He raises a brow, the side of his lip twitching, “You’re not serious about Mark.”

You roll your eyes. You mirror his position, resting your folded arms atop the table. “I’m not even interested in Mark.”

“You’re already starting to be interested,” he says, hitting the exact spot. He isn’t wrong. “And it’s only going to go downhill from here. Leave while you still can.” You can’t tell if Donghyuck is just being a protective friend, or if he just hates you for no apparent reason. You just want to know why he’s so adamant about the fact that your relationship with Mark will never work out. As though he’s able to read your mind, he answers that very question.

“Commitment doesn’t exist in your dictionary,” he states.

He’s right. Commitment doesn’t and cannot exist in your world. Your mouth is left open, but you’re not able to say anything in return. You bite down on your lower lip; Donghyuck is right. It hadn’t occurred to you before, but it’s clearly evident now. If you were to continue letting whatever you have with Mark develop, and for some reason, Mark sees things in a romantic light, he’s going to end up hurt. You’ve never really considered it from Mark’s perspective. While you’re trying to take everything as a platonic somewhat friendship, he might not hold the same viewpoint. For goodness sake, you’ve already began to see Mark romantically. You don’t know what’s on his mind.

“I’m going to go rollerblade,” you murmur, sliding yourself off the seat, out of the booth. You walk towards the rental booth, retrieving a pair of rollerblades. As you remove your sneakers to change into the rollerblades, Donghyuck’s words keep ringing in your head. It’s only going to go downhill from here, he said. You let out a hesitant breath – how would he know, right…?

You tighten the lace of the rollerblade, getting up, heading into the rink through the small opening. With your eyes fixed on the floor, you lunge yourself forward, Donghyuck’s words still replaying in your mind like a mantra. It’s only going to go downhill from here, he said.

The pain is here again. It’s intense. You furrow your brows and purse your lips, letting out a restrained gasp, your hand clutching onto your abdomen. You’re so deep in thought that you don’t notice the human-sized advertisement board that’s stationed in the middle of the rink. You’re not sure what happened, but the last thing you remember, is Jeno’s loud call for you, and Donghyuck’s words that keep haunting you – it’s only going to go downhill from here. You’ve blacked out.

Renjun is the first to arrive by your side, holding you up by your head. “What are we going to do?” Jisung panics, eyes fixated on the large cut on your forehead. “Go get the first aid kit,” Renjun calmly instructs. Jisung hurries to the front desk, while Mark removes his rollerblades in a hurry. “We have to get 06 out of here.” Mark lifts your body up bridal style, the rest of the boys surrounding him to ensure that the other people in the rink are kept at a distance.

Jeno holds the door open, while Mark enters, making his way to your bed. He waits as Jeno rushes over, pulling the comforter off the bed. Mark lays you down. “I’m going to go make sure we don’t get a ticket for the illegal parking,” Jeno says, handing Mark the key card to your dorm. Mark nods his head, “I’ll be down in a moment.”

Mark walks over to the bathroom, in search for a face towel. He finds one, turns on the tap, drenches it with water, turns off the tap, and wrings it, before making his way back to your sleeping figure. He folds the towel into a quarter, lightly dabbing at your face to get rid of the oils. When he’s done, he washes the towel out, hanging it by the drying rack. Mark notices you don’t have a humidifier in your room. He looks over at the kitchen. He pulls out the first drawer, hoping to find a glass, but instead, he finds a stash of photos you had chucked into the drawer.

He remembers how the first thing he noticed when he first came, was the fact that you didn’t have anything of sentimental value on display. He had thought you just simply didn’t care for it, but he realises now you do own things of sentimental value. You just didn’t have them on show. He skims through the stash – he realises how much you’ve changed physically; your body has significantly shrunk in comparison to before. He also realises you’ve done many things in your life. Your life seems even more carefree than you let on. He smiles.

Mark lays the glass of water he had filled by your bedside table. Grabbing the ends of the comforter, he brings it over your body, beginning to tuck you in. He notices your left hand peeking out of the comforter, so he holds it gently, placing it under the comforter. When he tries to pull away, he notices the sudden grip on his hand. He looks at your face; you’re still knocked out from the accident. Your slightly scrunched up facial features seem to indicate that you’re in discomfort.

“Are you awake?” he whispers. There’s no reply. He loosens up – he thinks he’s just misinterpreting your expression.

Mark takes the opportunity to stare at you a little longer. The soft breaths you let out the cutest thing he’s ever witnessed. The image of your smile flashes in Mark’s mind; he doesn’t understand why you don’t allow yourself to smile more often. Slowly, your grip on his hand loosens. Mark will remember your warm touch, even if you don’t remember his.

“Goodnight, 06,” he says, taking in your entirety one last time, before taking his leave.

You turn your head to the right, vision still blurry from both the fall and the excruciating pain in your abdomen. The tension in your body relaxes ever so slightly when you note that Mark only opened the first drawer. If he had gone on to the next, he would’ve discovered the one thing you’d never want him to know.

You wanted to finally be able to muster up the courage to ask Mark to stay. Maybe if he were by your side, things would be easier. But Mark doesn’t deserve such torment.

That night, as Mark tosses and turns in bed, he just can’t seem to rid the image of your smile off his head. He smiles, stuffing his face into his pillow. He can’t believe he’s fussing over something as simple as your smile. Perhaps Mark has delved deeper into your charms than he’s conscious of.

He’s just glad he has the next excuse to meet you again – the injury on your head.

Another three days have gone by since the roller rink incident. It’s to your luck that there weren’t any classes for the past three days, because the episodes were getting more frequent. It also gave you some time to heal the big fat scar on your forehead. You decide that it looks safe enough to just be left bare without a band-aid to cover it. You honestly can’t be bothered if the sight of the red cut freaks other students out. The wound needs to breathe to leave.

You enter the lecture hall, already catching some unwanted attention. You ignore the stares, heading for your usual seat by the left aisle, away from the crowd. Three boys are already sitting there when you arrive. You raise a brow.

“Feeling better?” Jeno asks, eyes flickering to the cut on your forehead, before looking back down into your eyes. You nod your head. “Sorry. If we knew this would happen, we wouldn’t have asked you to the roller rink,” he says. You shrug, “I chose to rollerblade on my own,” you say. It isn’t anybody’s fault this happened. In fact, you’re kind of glad it happened. At least it meant that you didn’t have to go back to the booth to face Donghyuck’s scrutiny. Speaking of, the boy is just sitting there, staring at the front of the hall, completely disinterested in you.

“I’m going to sit elsewhere,” you say, taking the first ascending step. Mark wraps his fingers around your wrist, a loose hold keeping you in place. It’s not even surprising anymore that you don’t immediately shrug his grip off. Maybe a part of you is slowly getting used to Mark. Maybe a part of you is slowly coming to accept Mark as somebody that you want in your life. Maybe, just maybe, you think it’s worth risking the hurt that comes with relationships, if it means you can dwell in Mark’s presence for a little longer.

You turn to meet eyes with him. From his gaze, you already know he’s telling you to sit with them. Your eyes shift to glance at Donghyuck, who is glaring at you at this point. His glare is telling of how he wants you to reject Mark, to go sit somewhere else, to get off Mark’s case. You’re conflicted.

“I’ll see you later,” you say. Mark pauses for a moment, eventually letting go of your wrist.

You walk up, to a seat a few rows above them.

You remain in your seat as you watch the other students scurry out of the lecture theatre upon dismissal. Your eyes find its way to the back of a certain slightly curly, black-haired boy’s head. Your eyes shift to rest on the white bottle that has basically become your lifeline at this point. A bitter scoff escapes your lips as the words ring in your mind – things are not looking optimistic.

Maybe that is the only reason why you find yourself getting off your seat, slinging your tote bag over your shoulder, descending a few steps to arrive at Mark’s row. You wait by the aisle for him to notice you. He does this time, without Jeno’s help. He looks at you, smile immediately stretching across his lips. “I said I’d see you later,” you say. Mark’s smile widens a little at that. You ignore the dirty look from Donghyuck, and you’re no longer foreign to the soft stare from Jeno.

“Are you free right now?” you ask.

There’s a light bulb that’s suddenly illuminating in Mark’s heart. Perhaps it should be the other way around. Perhaps he should’ve been the one to ask, but he’d only have a 20 percent chance of being graced with the answer he longs for. But here you are, standing before him, the question rolling off your tongue so easily, with a 100 percent chance of being graced with the answer you want to hear. Mark doesn’t even need to think twice. He’s been waiting for this, and he’s excited. He’s getting the feeling of warmth spreading throughout his body. His smile only gets bigger as he replies, “What do you have in mind?”

In 15 minutes, the two of you are still within the vicinity of the campus, but in land that is foreign to Mark, yet it’s as close as a second home to you. Mark looks over the horizon, the view simply striking to him. He never knew that such a place, let alone such a view, was in reach in a matter of minutes. It’s probably because it’s in restricted premises, but you don’t tell him that. His goody-two-shoes nature would freak out. But that’s a part of Mark’s charm.

“Damn,” he gasps, taking in a breath, “This is amazing.”

For the first time ever, in front of someone that’s not your reflection in the mirror, you smile, willingly. The way the gentle breeze tickles your skin, the way the rustling of the leaves creates a pleasant melody, the way the view serves as the perfect panoramic shot in a romance movie. It’s all fantasy, and it’s all your imagination. But at least you’re sharing it with the one person you’ve somehow created a bond with. People might think it’s ridiculous, you’ve barely interacted with the boy for more than two weeks. But those people are the same people who don’t believe that feelings of attachment and liking comes quickly, and they’ll always get to you. You can’t stop falling. That’s the fatal part of attraction.

You turn to look at Mark. You openly stare at his side profile, taking in his entirety, memorising the sound of his giggles, the little nose scrunch when he laughs, and the way his eyes light up when he smiles. Who knows? This might be the last.

Mark turns to look at you. He gazes into your eyes. It’s so heart-stopping you feel your breath hitch in your throat. Your heart is fluttering at the eye contact. He’s smiling, and he’s smiling for you. Maybe he has been all this while. But now, you’re smiling, and you’re smiling for him. You wonder what he’s thinking about.

Mark stares at you. Mark watches your eyes light up with joy, but he doesn’t know what sparks it. Mark notices how you are finally able to freely give in to the urge of allowing the two ends of your lips to be tugged upwards; Mark takes note of the way your eyes form crescents, the way the pink in your cheeks become prominent under the sunlight. It is as though the entire scene is unravelling in front of him in slow motion. The scene that stars only you.

The both of you feel it – the attraction. You’re fully aware of the reality of the situation in this moment. Mark is the warmth you don’t deserve. You’re the cold that’s toxic to him. Maybe not now, but you’ll eventually be.

Mark isn’t sure what’s got him so confident. Perhaps it’s the way your smile seems to be giving him the consent he seeks, and perhaps it’s the fact that he’s only realising now how hard he has fallen for you. You’re like the soil; regardless of how much he has dug, he still has so much more to dig. He doesn’t know you fully yet, and he isn’t confident that he ever will. He knows he wants to.

You notice when Mark’s eyes drop to your lips. Your body tenses as he inches forward, bit by bit. You want him to close the gap. You want his lips to come into contact with yours. You want to feel Mark’s warmth. But you know it all too well – warm and cold don’t mix well. They’re not meant for each other. You’re not Mark’s fate.

You place your hand on his chest; he stops immediately, eyes snapping up to meet yours. Embarrassed, he immediately takes a step back, avoiding eye contact, tugging at the hem of his shirt, letting out an awkward cough. “I’m so sorry,” he says. He mentally berates himself. You reach out, interlocking your fingers with his. He looks back at you, eyebrows raised, mouth forming an ‘o’. You remember that face. You let out a chuckle. That might just be the most beautiful thing Mark has ever heard. He doesn’t tell you, though.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you say. Mark lets out a sigh of relief, “Good, otherwise it will be really awkward.” You chuckle once more – gosh, he’s really cute.

You reach into your pocket, pulling out the film you had prepared with the intention of giving it to Mark. You hold it out, and he takes it, analysing the photo. “What’s this?” he mutters, taking a closer look. He realises it’s a photo of your letterman jacket, the iconic ‘06’ that everyone has learned to associate you with, in full view. He looks up to meet eyes with you, awaiting your explanation. You smile, averting your attention to the beautiful view.

“Just because,” you say. Mark doesn’t understand.

“Mark?” you call.

“Yeah?”

“We have the whole of next week off, right?” Mark hums in response.

“Let’s meet here in exactly one week,” you turn to look him in the eyes. Maybe then, we can have our first kiss.

Mark smiles.

“Okay.”

Mark taps his fingers on the grass. He’s been waiting for an hour, but there’s still no sight of you. He checks the time – 4PM. He decides that you’re probably held back by something, so he continues to wait, biting on the insides of his lips as he counts down the minutes.

Another two hours go by. Mark is now laying on the grass, staring up at the sun that is beginning to set. He’s not sure why you still haven’t shown. Mark wonders if you have forgotten your promise to meet here today. It’s been a week of absolutely no contact, after all. He decides that it’s unlikely that you’ve forgotten. He believes you’ll show, so he continues to wait.

Another hour goes by. The sky is almost dark now. Mark sighs. Did you change your mind? Mark stands up. Usually, he’s not one to confront. But Mark treasures this connection. Mark wants to make things work, even if it means having to take multiple steps forward, whenever you take one step backwards. Mark begins the trail to the campus dormitories. Even if you’ve changed your mind, he deserves to know.

Mark knocks on your door. He waits. There’s no reply.

Mark knocks again. Silence.

’06?” he calls, knocking once more.

Your neighbour peeks her head out. “Are you looking for the tenant?” she asks. Mark nods his head. “The tenant already moved out,” she says. “What?” was all that Mark manages out.

Mark’s heart begins to pick pace, but not in a good way. He rushes down to the front desk.

“Did the student who lives in room 612 move out?” he asks, panting to catch his breath. The front desk lady looks stunned for a moment, but doesn’t question Mark’s intentions. She types at her desktop, clicks a few times, before replying with, “Oh, this student,” she says, distinctly recalling the haste in your exit. “Moved out a few days ago. It was so sudden, didn’t even bother about the overpaid rent,” she comments. Mark’s brows knit at the revelation. “06 left?” he breathes.

While the rest of the boys were busily engaged in their small clusters of conversation, Donghyuck has his eyes fixed on Mark. He knew this would happen. Donghyuck’s eyes rests upon the film that Mark holds with his fingers, as though it’s the most precious object he has ever laid his hands on. Donghyuck sighs. Mark looks up at Donghyuck briefly, a faint smile forming on his lips. Donghyuck clicks his tongue, shaking his head in disapproval.

“What are you thinking about?” Donghyuck questions, even though he knows what the exact answer is. Mark shrugs, affirming Donghyuck’s assumption. “Seriously, when are you going to stop thinking about that person? It’s been months, close to a year, and you’re still holding onto the futile hope that something will change? Because it won’t.”

Mark lowers his gaze. He scoffs bitterly, “Maybe you’re right.”

“There’s no maybe, I’m always right.”

Mark doesn’t respond. Donghyuck looks at him, taking note of the genuine sorrow in his eyes. Mark has changed a lot within the span of the past few months. The Mark that was once overflowing with joy, bursting out in giggles and laughter over the smallest things; that Mark is gone. The Mark before him right now, is a Mark that hasn’t shown any signs of genuine happiness in forever. The Mark before him, is a Mark that has long forgotten how to feel the different emotions. That is, except one emotion – longing.

Donghyuck lets out another sigh.

Mark turns the film around. Hidden in the corner of the black coating, were the letters that forms your name, inked in black marker. It can only be seen when the light directly reflects upon the letters. Mark smiles a bittersweet smile. He remembers how carefree you were as a person. He remembers drawing up a mental metaphor to compare the way you lived life, to dancing. You lived everyday like you were dancing. Even more than he’d ever know.

Mark wonders where, with whom, and to what music you’d be dancing to now.

Without leaving a span of a shadow, where did you disappear to?

Hidden in the corner, amongst the very many slabs with semi-circular tops, sits one lonely slab, that is patiently waiting for the visitor who’ll never show up.

[imaginethe-dragons]

Boy With Luv (2)

summary: While maintaining your corporate office job at Kim Publishing House, you also have to try and balance your professional life with your love life. Can you keep both separated or will they collide?

pairing: eventual jeon jungkook x reader

genre: fluff, eventual smut, coworkers to lovers

warnings: this part gets a bit steamy, make out themes. nothing extreme, but lmk if I missed anything!

word count: 5.4k

part: 2

pronouns: she/her

part 1 here

As soon as your alarm sounded, you tapped the off button so fast. It's the weekend, so you are not getting up at the ass crack of dawn. You shifted onto your other side, feeling the warmth of someone else.

Did Joon have a nightmare and sneak in? You thought to yourself. He had done it before so you wouldn't be shocked. Though, when you realized who it was, memories of last night immediately flooding your mind. It was your 'Work Husband', as Namjoon referred to him.

The alarm hadn't disturbed Jungkook, but you were wide awake now. His arms were still wrapped around you, but you carefully removed yourself from his hold in order to go to the kitchen. You reached for the Advil in the medicine cabinet and tapped two of the pills into your hand. You grabbed a bottled water and went back to your room. Jungkook was sitting up, looking around your room.

"Noona? How'd I get here?" He asked you, voice a little hoarse due to the alcohol he consumed. You laughed lightly, handing him the water and medicine, which he took gratefully.

"You called me from Hobi's party and then you crashed here," you told him. His eyes widen and he checked to see if he was still dressed. He leaned his head back, eyes fluttering shut, and released a sigh of what you concluded to be relief.

"H-how bad was I?" He asked you, his tone was letting you know he was nervous.

"You came on to me a few times, but then I told you if you didn't stop, you could sleep on the couch," you answered, walking to your closet.

"Like how?" He asked further. You could tell he was walking on eggshells because he had no idea if you were upset with him in any way because of his drunken actions.

"You told me I was pretty, grabbed my ass, grabbed my thigh, then tried to have sex once we got home," you answered him. He groaned in response. He lifted the comforter over his head to 'hide'. You giggled at his childish actions, making him peek at you.

"I'm sorry, I should have called someone else," he told you. You picked out a sweatshirt as the apartment had gotten colder since last night. You took off Namjoon's shirt and replaced it with the hoodie.

"It's alright, Koo. I told you that if you felt the same today, we could talk about it," you shrugged, walking to your dresser. You put your jewelry back on, opting to leave your rings off.

"This isn't how I wanted to tell you, I hope you know that," he said after a moment had passed. You nodded in understanding.

"I'm gonna go make breakfast, would you like to stay?" You asked.

"Is Namjoon going to mind?" He asked, still nervous.

"No, he was just worried last night because he was half asleep when I told him I had to pick you up," you answered, leaving the bedroom to the kitchen. Namjoon was up and making coffee.

"Good morning," he smiled when he noticed your presence next to him.

"Morning," you responded quietly. You opened the cabinet and pulled out the box of pancake mix before going to the fridge and grabbing some bacon.

"Did he leave yet?" Joon asked, handing you your own cup of coffee.

"No, he's staying for breakfast," you answered as you both moved around the kitchen in sync as you prepared breakfast.

"Good morning," Namjoon said and you looked behind you. Jungkook had emerged from your room. Namjoon placed his hand on the small of your back as he walked behind you to get plates.

"Good morning," Jungkook responded coldly.

"JK, there's milk or orange juice in the fridge, grab whatever you want," you told him as you flipped a pancake.

"Thanks, noona," he told you.

"So, what'd you do with the condom," Namjoon asked.

"Joon! What the hell," you hissed. He laughed at how defensive you got.

"So that translates to you put in in your nightstand and didn't have sex?" He asked, making you roll your eyes.

"He was drunk, I wasn't going to do anything," you explained. You both finished breakfast and brought a plate of pancakes and a plate of bacon to the kitchen table.

"This smells amazing," Jungkook said, smiling at you.

"We've had a lot of trial and error before we got a routine down," Namjoon laughed, remembering the many times the smoke alarms had gone off.

"Okay, I'm starving," you chuckled, putting three pancakes on your plate. You drowned them in syrup before you dug in. You hadn't had anything since you had gone out to eat with Jimin yesterday.

"I made an appointment to go to the shelter today," Namjoon told you.

"Oh, cool. Did you look at any of the other hybrids?" You asked.

"I looked on the website and they have so many dog hybrids. I thought they only had a few, but wow was I wrong," he told you.

"You're getting a hybrid?" Jungkook asked.

"I am, it's not something we're doing together," Namjoon told him. There was a sudden knock at the door and you got up to answer it. It was a man in a suit holding an envelope.

"Miss Y/l/n?" He asked.

"Yes?" You asked, very confused. He thrusted the envelope in your direction. You grabbed it and the man hurried off. You shut the door as you walked back in the kitchen, pulling a letter opener from the junk drawer.

"Who was it?" Namjoon asked you. You shrugged as you sliced the envelope open. It was the invitation to the annual fund raising gala that the Kim Publishing House holds every year on the last Friday of March.

"It's my invitation to the fundraising gala," you told them, examining the expensive looking paper.

"Who did you get paired with?" Jungkook asked. Each person who worked in your department got paired with an executive at your sister company, Min Press.

"Min Yoongi," you groaned. He was the son of the owner of Min Press and he was known as a fuck boy, a fact the media never lets anyone forget.

"Shit, if you've got it that bad, I'm dreading to see who I'm stuck with," Jungkook groaned as well.

"What about a date?" Joon asked. Jungkook chuckled at his naivety, but you shook your head. That was how Jungkook was able to tell that Namjoon was being serious.

"You can't take a date to this gala. We get paired up with someone from Min Press to keep them in business with us. All of our focus is on this one person. And y/n drew the short stick," Jungkook explained while you were cursing Seokjin at the moment. Your phone began ringing and you picked it up. It was Jin's caller ID. You opened the message. Your thumbs flew across the screen, responding to all of Jin's messages.

Jungkook's blood began to boil. Min Yoongi was a slimy son of a bitch and he couldn't stand the thought of any one's hands on you except for his own. But he bit his tongue, not wanting to cause a scene.

"What's the theme, Noona?" he asked you, drawing your attention away from the invitation.

"Masquerade," you answered, putting the invitation on the fridge with a magnet. You put your plate and fork in the dishwasher and sat back down, resting your head on your hands.

"Depending on my partner, I can cut in whenever you need it," Jungkook suggested. You shook your head, knowing that could result in a write up.

"No, it's fine. I'll just have to put up with it," you told him.

"I have to get ready for the shelter, do you want to come with me?" Namjoon asked as he cleared his and Jungkook's plates from the table.

"I'll stay here and get the apartment cleaned up," you told him. He nodded and went to his room to get dressed.

"I guess that means I'll go then," Jungkook said, starting to get up.

"You can stay. We still have some things to talk about," you told him as you started to wash any dishes that were in the sink.

"Okay, I'm out. I'll text you when I'm on my way home," Namjoon said, completely dressed and ready to go.

"Be careful!" You called after him as the door shut.

"Noona, why do you live with him?" Jungkook asked once he was sure Namjoon had gone. You looked up from the dishes and leaned your head to the side in thought. You were searching for the right way to explain it.

"After Hoseok and I broke up, I couldn't live with him but I wasn't ready to live on my own. Jimin offered to let me stay at his place, but I didn't want to just stay for free. Joon agreed to go in 50/50 on an apartment with me," you explained as you began dusting all of the wall décor.

"Does he like me?" he asked you, making you turn to look at him.

"Namjoon? Koo, he calls you my work husband, he just doesn't show it to your face," you giggled, but you noticed the way Jungkook visibly relaxed at what you had told him.

"Your work husband, huh?" He asked, curiosity weaved in his words.

"Yeah," you hummed as you continued to do a deep clean of the house.

"What makes him say that?" Jungkook asked, suddenly behind you. He was wrapping his arms around your waist. You jumped at the sudden close proximity.

"He says it because whenever he comes into the office we're attached at the hip. He always says you followed me around like a lost puppy," you answered.

"That was because you're so addictive," he mumbled, drawing circles into your skin. You shivered at his touch.

"Koo, we shouldn't," you told him, trying to unwrap his arms from around your waist.

"If you want to stop say no. But please, let me do this," he whispered, pulling your hair over one of your shoulders as he kissed the newly exposed skin.

"At least take me to dinner first," you giggled at the way his hair tickled your neck. It had always been hypersensitive. He smiled against your skin.

"I can do that. Where do you want to go?" He asked. He was kissing his way up your neck now. You leaned your head away from him, exposing more of your skin to him.

"You choose, I'm up for anything," you answered him. He nipped at your ear, causing you to stiffen in his arms.

"Sorry, do you not like that?" He asked you, concern making its way into his expression.

"Just sensitive," you answered him. He continued pressing light kisses here and there. You relaxed in his arms once again.

"There's a new sushi restaurant that opened up, let's go there," he suggested, pulling you closer to him.

"Okay, sounds good," you agreed, beginning to rock back and forth in his arms.

"Let's go tonight," he continued, moving with you.

"I don't have anything to wear," you said, knowing you had plenty of date night outfits, but most of them were from your relationship with Hoseok.

"What about that red dress you wore for Valentine's day?" He asked. You had bought the dress with Hoseok and wore it to one of his parties.

"No, I don't want to wear something that he touched," you whispered. Jungkook didn't even need you to say your ex's name to know what you meant.

"Come on," he said, grabbing your hand and leading you to your bedroom. He gestured for you to sit on the bed and you did so as he walked over to your closet, opening the door. He found your section of date night clothes.

"What are you doing?" You asked him. He just went through all the different dresses you had. His hands seemed to stop on any dress that stuck out to him.

"Which one of these have not seen out of this apartment?" He asked, holding up three dresses. One was a black dress you had worn clubbing with Jimin a couple times. The second was a red dress that you had bought for a party that Jungkook threw a month or two ago, but you had the flu so you ended up staying in. The third was a white dress from when you graduated from university.

"Black one I went clubbing in, second one never got worn, third one is from graduation," you told him.

"Who went clubbing?" He asked. If it was just your girlfriends, then he was willing to let it go.

"Jimin," you responded and he immediately hung the dress up as if it was burning him to the touch.

"Definitely not that," he laughed.

"I knew you would say that," you smiled. He held up the red dress.

"What was this one supposed to be for?" He asked, silently wishing that it hadn't been for someone else.

"I bought it for that party you threw, but I got sick and had to stay in," you answered him and he let out a low whistle.

"Were you trying to kill me?" He laughed as he laid it down on the bed. Your face was on fire as blood rushed to your cheeks at how quickly he was able to figure you out.

"No, I had just broken up with Hobi and I wanted to look good," you explained, not giving him the whole truth.

"For who?" He questioned you further. You didn't want to admit that he was right, so you tried to come up with something to satisfy his questions.

"Myself," you sassed him. Your phone beeped and you looked at it.

"Hey, pay attention to me, Princess," Jungkook told you. You snapped your head to look at him with the sudden use of a pet name. He smirked at how you had reacted. You managed to text Joon back before turning your attention back to Jungkook.

"Namjoon is on his way home, I have to get dressed and straighten up everything," you told him, scrambling off of the bed.

"I'll take care of the cleaning, you get ready," he told you. You both sprung into action. You traded your sleep shorts for some ripped mom jeans, and your sweatshirt was traded for a more cheerful sweater. You hurried to make your hair decent and brushed your teeth.

"How's it going?" You called as you made your bed.

"I was able to vacuum and dust!" He responded. Wow he worked fast, you thought.

"Can you make Namjoon's bed and put his laundry basket in the laundry closet?" You asked him. You put on your rings and some fluffy socks to protect your feet against the hardwood floor.

"Y/n, we're home!" You heard Namjoon call. You walked out into the living room, and before you knew it, you were tackled by an unfamiliar figure.

"Taehyung," Namjoon exclaimed. The boy scrambled to get off of you. The hybrid wrapped his tail around his legs, his eyes glued to the floor.

"I'm sorry, you just smell so sweet and I couldn't help myself!" He whimpered.

"It's okay, let's just not make it a habit," you told the hybrid. He had golden ears that flopped over his brown hair and a long shaggy tail.

"Noona, all done," Jungkook said, out of breath.

"I thought you said you lived with just her," Taehyung said to Namjoon.

"That's her..." Namjoon started to say, looking at you.

"Complicated. He's my complicated," you answered. Jungkook nodded in agreement, knowing that it was too soon for labels.

"Well, Y/n, this is Taehyung. He is a golden retriever hybrid," Namjoon told you, as if you hadn't read that on the website the night before.

"It's nice to meet you," you smiled.

"Likewise," he smiled, his tail starting to wag.

"Tae, why don't you do a little exploring," Joon told the younger boy. He walked in the direction of his and Namjoon's room, leaving the three of you alone. "Since when was this complicated?"

"When you left, we started talking. We're going out tonight," you told him. His focus sapped to Jungkook.

"If you don't treat her right, I swear you'll be a eunuch," Namjoon growled. Jungkook began rapidly nodding, moving to hide behind you.

"You should go now," you told Jungkook. He nodded in agreement.

"I'll come pick you up at seven, and I'll bring Namjoon's clothes back washed," he told you, hurrying out of the door once he had everything.

"He's gone?" Taehyung asked, emerging from the bedroom.

"Yes, he is," Namjoon sighed in relief.

"I'm sorry for tackling you," Taehyung said again.

"It's fine. You said something about my scent. What does it smell like?" You asked him. He sat on the couch and thought, taking deep breaths every now and again. You sat next to him to make him feel comfortable.

"Like orchids, irises, and honey," he answered you.

"Orchids mean love, fertility, and elegance. Irises mean wisdom, hope, trust and valor. Honey means sweetness and prosperity," you said, recalling many flower dictionaries and online resources you had read.

"They all smell so pretty when mixed together," he told you.

"Thank you, Tae," you smiled.

"How about we go get the room set up," Namjoon offered and Taehyung jumped up to follow him. You went back to your room and stared at the dress on your bed. You chewed on your fingernail, thinking about if this was the right thing to do. It felt wrong, but things came so easily with Jungkook. You just had to keep your love life separated from your wok life.

"Church and state," you whispered, quoting an episode of Grey's Anatomy you had seen. Essentially, keeping the love life at home and the work life at work. You hung the dress up before moving to sit on the middle of your bed.

"Hey," Namjoon said, pulling you out of your thoughts. You turned your head to look at him. He was leaning against your doorframe with a small smile on his face.

"Hi. How's Tae settling in?" You asked.

"He's doing good. He's taking a shower, so I figured I'd come see how you're doing," he told you, sitting on the edge of your bed. You looked at him questioningly.

"I'm fine, why are you checking on me?" You asked, twisting your ring that was on your right hand. He raised his eyebrows at the action, making you roll your eyes.

"This is your first first date since Hoseok and I can tell that your mind is going a mile a minute," he answered, shrugging his shoulders. You huffed, but pat the spot next to you and he moved closer.

"I'm nervous. I just don't want this to end badly and then not have Jungkook in my life at all. He's been such a good friend at the office, I don't know what I would do without him there," you admitted. Namjoon knew that you weren't seeking his comfort, so he allowed your words to hang in the air.

"If you think about it, your relationship won't change that much. The only new thing will be intimacy," Joon said after a few minutes.

"It's still scary," you mumbled, resting your head on his shoulder. He chuckled at you, making you smile in return.

"That's what you said about Hoseok. You'll be fine, Y/n. Jungkook likes you a lot. He would be an idiot if he let you slip through his fingers," Joon said in earnest. Your ears turned red at his words.

"That's what you said about Hobi," you laughed, remembering having this same conversation roughly a year ago.

"No, I said he'd be stupid if he fucked up your relationship," Joon laughed, making you smile.

The conversation had happened before you moved out of your apartment from college. You were sitting with your legs crossed on your bed while Joon occupied your desk chair. You had been freaking out about the date all day and Namjoon took it upon himself to calm you down since your roommate didn't seem to be bothered. He talked you down for two hours before you successfully took a deep breath and began to get ready.

He soothed all of your anxieties up until the moment Hoseok had knocked on your door. He was the one who made you answer the door and the one who put the calla lilies Hoseok bought you in a vase. You vividly remember the two thumbs up he gave you as he shoved you out of the apartment, stumbling into Hobi because of your high heels. That was something that the two had teased you about for weeks.

"It'll be fine. It's not gonna be much different," you repeated Namjoon's words back to yourself. He gave you a nod of encouragement. You took a deep breath, letting the words sink in.

"It will," he assured you. Footsteps sounded throughout the hallway and before you knew it Taehyung opened the door slightly.

"Are you okay? Your scent changed," he asked you with big doe eyes.

"I'm fine now, Tae. Thank you for your concern," you smiled at him. A boxy smile took over his features and his tail began to wag.

"Can we do something fun tonight? Like to get to know each other?" Taehyung asked the both of you. You felt bad that you agreed to go out with Jungkook on the same day Namjoon brought Tae home, but it wouldn't be fair to Jungkook.

"I have a date tonight, but I promise we can go do something tomorrow, just you and me," you told him. He looked at Joon, searching for approval.

"If you want to go, I'm okay with it," he chuckled and Taehyung jumped onto the bed to hug you both. Everyone erupted into laughter. This was such a simple moment with you and the boys, but whatever you were feeling right this instance, you knew you never want to let go of it.

"Do you guys want to help me pick out a dress? I'm not wearing the one he picked out," you asked, knowing that it was a party dress and not a date dress.

"Can we hyung? Please, please, please?" Tae begged so hard, he might as well have been down on his knees.

"Let's go," he agreed and the three of you hurried to put shoes on. You made sure to grab your wallet and keys before walking out of the apartment door.

"Who's driving?" Tae asked as you approached your car. You laughed but Namjoon just rolled his eyes.

"I always drive because Joon doesn't have his license," you answered Taehyung. He smiled and giggled at what you told him.

"Whatever, let's just get going," Joon huffed as he sat down and buckled his seatbelt. You drove to the mall closest to you and Joon's apartment and parked right outside a fancy department store.

"Does Tae have a collar?" You asked Namjoon quietly, knowing that Tae could still hear you. Right on cue, he whimpered at the word.

"Tae, it's only while we're in the store. Laws are extremely strict regarding hybrids in public. I'm not asking you to do it at home. It's honestly for your safety," you assured him, looking at him through the rearview mirror.

"We got one, I let him pick everything out," Namjoon answered you, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the silver chain with a small oval tag on it. It looked more like military dog tags than a hybrid's collar.

"It's subtle. Great taste, Tae," you smiled as he put it around his neck. When he was done the three of you got out of the car and went into the store. Taehyung kept extremely close to you. Something about how your scent was calming to him.

"Miss Y/n, so good to see you again. To what do we owe the pleasure?" Hana, the store's manager, greeted you. You frequented this store every time you had an event to go to and you needed an outfit.

"I'm going on a date tonight to that new sushi place that opened up and I don't have any fresh date clothes," you answered her. She nodded in understanding.

"Well, we just got our spring collection in, come take a look," she smiled, pulling you to the racks nearby. Taehyung eagerly followed you while Joon kept a little bit of distance, watching you.

"What color scheme are we going for?" Hana asked as she pointed out some of her personal favorites.

"He likes me in red," you answered and she smirked because who doesn't like you in red. It was the color that has always made you confident in your own skin.

"Okay, well here we have a nice dinner party styled dress. It's not too flirty but not too innocent either," she told you, pulling a dress off of the rack and handing it to you. You came in here so often that she knows your sizes like the back of her own hand.

"This is going in the maybe pile," you smiled. Hana nodded and handed you a few other dresses from every color possible.

"Y/n please let me hold something," Taehyung whined as your arms became full. You giggled but handed him a few dresses which he took happily.

"Hana, thank you for your help once again. I'll come find you when I decide," you smiled and she nodded. She went back to fixing displays as you led the boys to the fitting rooms.

"Okay, you two wait right here. I'll come out and show you when I get one on," you told the two as the sat on a vacant bench, a few feet away from where another guy was surrounded by shopping bags. You took the dresses from Taehyung and hung them up in the small space and shut the door.

"She makes you come with her too?" You heard the other guy laugh.

"No, we wanted to come," Namjoon answered, clearing his throat. You could sense the tension as you slipped on the first dress. It was a white dress, but you knew it would end up some other color after dinner. You were always the one to spill something on your dress.

"Joon, can one of you zip me up?" You asked, opening the door just a bit. Namjoon shot up and opened the door so he could come in.

"You know this dress will end up trashed by the time you come home," he chuckled as you pulled your hair out of the way. His hand ghosted over the zipper for a second, but before you could ask what he was doing, he pulled it up.

"I know, but I have to try on everything Hana hands me. It's an unspoken rule," you told him. You opened the door to walk out to the bigger mirror outside of the rooms.

"Y/n! You look so pretty in white," Taehyung smiled. It was a boxy smile and that made you smile. Namjoon took his seat once again as they both watched you in the mirror.

"Thanks, Tae. But white and I do not mix," you laughed, ruffling his hair as you walked back into your room. As you shut the door, both boys were engrossed in their phones and you just smiled. Little do you know what they were doing.

"How about this one?" You asked, opening the door to reveal you in the red dress Hana had first handed to you. Both Namjoon and Taehyung had their eyes fixed on you, jaws practically on the floor.

"I don't think you need to try on any others," Taehyung answered you, regaining his composure much quicker than Joon. Taehyung elbowed Namjoon, who fake coughed in response.

"Yeah, you look stunning," he answered. You smiled before admiring yourself in the mirror.

"Thank you, boys. I agree," you nodded, turning to go back into the room, changing back into your clothes. You hung the red dress back on its hanger before putting the rest on the rack for the clothes meant to be put back.

"Can we go get something to eat?" Taehyung asked but Joon just laughed at him.

"You have so much to learn. Starting with the fact that Y/n doesn't go to just one store. Especially before a date," Joon answered, patting Taehyung on the shoulder.

You dragged those poor boys all around the mall. From Sephora to Pandora to a small shoe store. You only had a bag from each store, but Taehyung was stressing that you were carrying too much so you gave him one to make him satisfied. You picked up a new red lipstick to match with the dress, you bought two rings that you had been looking at for a while now, and you picked up some red sandals for tonight.

"Okay, are we done?" Namjoon asked, leaning against Taehyung as you walk towards them from Barnes & Noble with two bags in hand.

"Please let me carry some more," Taehyung whined once again and you handed him the bag from Sephora. You smiled at the dissatisfied look he gave you.

"We're done, I wanted to pick up a couple of books I edited for the bookshelf," you told the two as you both went to the car.

"Anything I'll enjoy?" Joon asked as he opened the passenger door, but Taehyung hopped in before Joon had a chance.

"Compiled short stories and rewrites of Grimm Brothers' fairytales," you answered him, putting your bags in the backseat. You had spent a couple hours in the mall, and it had shocked you when the time on your phone read 6:15.

"Shit, we gotta go now," you exclaimed, hurriedly turning the engine over and driving hurriedly back to your apartment. You grabbed as many bags as you could before Taehyung started begging to help. You led the way to the elevator, which thankfully was quicker than you had anticipated.

"He's picking you up at 7?" Namjoon asked as he unlocked the door. You all stumbled through the doorway, Tae following you to your room with his three bags.

"Yeah, and it's already 6:30!" You exclaimed, stripping until you were in the shower, hurrying to wash your hair, face, and everywhere else.

"Here's the dress, undies, and a bra. Everything is seamless, don't worry. Get dressed and I'll blow dry your hair while you do your make up," Namjoon told you. He had walked into the bathroom as soon as he heard the water shut off.

He had learned how to do your hair the weekend you were sick and supposed to go to Jungkook's party. The reason being is that you had been complaining that you felt gross, but barely had the strength to take a shower. Namjoon had ran you a bubble bath, washed your hair, and then offered to blow dry it as you talked him through it.

"Thank you, Joon. You're a life saver," you smiled, quickly getting dressed as he turned around.

"Finished?" He asked when he heard you digging in your make up bag.

"Yeah, hair dryer is already plugged in," you told him. He began to gently brush your hair as you started to apply some light make up. Nothing too dramatic, given that it's a first date. Namjoon was drying your hair in bigger sections than he usually would, given that Jungkook's supposed to be here in ten minutes.

That's when you heard it. The loud knocks that could be heard over the hair dryer. Taehyung busted into the bathroom as Namjoon worked harder with the dryer. He looked between the two of you, obviously in distress of some sort.

"He's hear, do I let him in?" Taehyung asked the both of you. Jungkook was early, so he could wait until 7 like he had promised. Namjoon was close to done.

"No, he can wait. I'm not ready yet. Thank you Tae," you added, spraying some sweet perfume on your wrists, rubbing some on your neck.

"Okay, you're good to go," Joon smiled, turning off the dryer. You turned around and smiled at him.

"You're such a life saver, you know that?" You told him and Namjoon didn't even tried to hide the blush on his face, but nodded. You leaned onto your tip toes before pecking his cheek in thanks, walking into the foyer. Suddenly frozen in place.

        Ding Dong.

Thank you guys so much for reading! I’ve been working on this chapter ever since I published chapter 1! If you want to be on the tag list, ask questions, or have suggestions, my ask box and my messages are open!

tag list: @religious-pizza-roll, @fangirl125reader

[shikonotama]

Hello @celisart​, I was your @noragamisecretsantas this year! I hope you have some sweet holidays this year  🎄 🎅

You told me, that you’d like something Yatori related. So I decided to write something about them. I hope you like it. 🤗

Silent night

The days had gotten a lot colder recently. Even during the sunny parts of the day, the warm sunbeams just barely made it all the way to the ground, therefore not able to properly heaten neither animals nor humans anymore. Despite the weather being close to freezing the whole day, you’d never consider to call it bad at all. Only the lack of pure white snow throughout the city’s streets caused all the children to stay at home, meeting their friends or playing games inside their parent’s house. Adults and elders on the other hand were busy making their way to the city and back, trying to get everything ready for the upcoming holydays at least.

Just in between all those people walking straight to their destinated place to get what they needed and then hurrying back to their houses, a young man ran through the shopping mile; not even sparing a glance on one single storefront even once. His outfit did not quite fit the weather nor was it suited for celebrating the upcoming holidays in the slightest. Despite wearing a pair of brown boots, he did not wear a coat or jacket. All that covered his body was a black tracksuit and a greyish scarf tied around his neck.

His vision was sharp and clear, his mind focused on something ahead, as if he was chasing after a thief that stole his wallet – no one around seemed to notice neither him nor the one he was chasing after, though.

“Yato, it’s no good! If we continue like this, it will-…”, the voice of a young boy reached the young man’s ears, even though there was no one right beside him.

»I know…«, he murmured, biting his lips. His fingers already felt numb and the cold wind blowing in his face caused his nose and cheeks to turn slightly red. »… but that’s the last one.«

“You sure ‘bout that?”

»Tzck…«, was all he had to add before he jumped straight off the ground and landed on top of the next building’s chimney with no struggle at all. As he stood up there, his bright blue eyes were directed to a point at about two hundred meters straight ahead of him. The bright sunlight was reflected from two blades he held – each in one hand. Their handles were both wrapped in bandages that didn’t seem to be tightened very well.

»Get ready, Yukine.«, was all he added to their conversation, as a big squirrel shaped cloud of dust rose just where Yato had been staring at the whole time. »We’re gonna finish this with just one blow.«

»Smells good!«, the big and cloudy animal turned itself around to face the black haired man, still standing on top of the chimney, firmly holding both blades. Just one moment later, without any further indication, Yato lifted himself high into the air. In the blink of an eye, he then rushed straight to the Ayakashi facing him, directing both blades to the squirrels head.

»You who would desecrate this land of the rising sun! With my advent, I, God Yato, lay waste with the Sekki... and expel thy vast defilement! – Rend!«

His two blades cut right through the Ayakashi’s body, leaving nothing but blurry dust behind. With ease, the self-proclaimed god stood up in the middle of all those busy people that were still walking by as if nothing had happened the past few minutes.

»Good job, Yukine. You’ve become really strong. Just as expected from my Hafuri.«, he grinned proudly, as both blades started to glow.

»You should be more careful, you know? If we only made the slightest mistake, some of those people might get hurt. You do know that, don’t you?!«, a blond boy had appeared right before Yato’s eyes, giving him a warning look before he sighted in relief. ‘After all, everything went well, didn’t it?’

»I knew you could do that, that’s why.«, answered Yato still grinning, then rubbing his hands to get them warm, at least a bit warmer than icy. »Let’s get going. It’s freezing cold. I’m sure Daikoku got us something to warm up again!« Again, Yukine sighted, tightened his jacket and followed Yato on their way back to Daikoku’s and Kofuku’s house, where they had been living for quite a while now – more than one year to be precise.

Kofuku and Daikoku: the goddess of poverty and her Shinki that was able to open up a vent that summons a huge amount of gloom. But thankfully, Kofuku was not the kind of god that got into a fight very easy. On top of that, Daikoku did not allow her to leave the house and explore the town or other places frequented by many people. She was not allowed to leave very often and never on her own, because her Shinki knew things would not turn out very well, as his master was known to cause disaster, wherever she went. Nevertheless, both of them lived a more or less quiet life, running a small store during the day that was very popular among children and passersby.

As it was already around half past five in the afternoon when Yato and Yukine made it back, the store was already closed for today.

»We’re back!«, Yato shouted while Yukine already closed the door behind them and they both immediately got rid of their shoes. »Time for something warm to eat!«

»Ah – Yato-chan and Yukki!«, a high-pitched and happy voice echoed through the house, right before one of the doors burst open. A young woman with bright pink hair and a big smile on her face showed up to greet them. »You’re late.«

»I’m sure he got them into some serious trouble – AGAIN!«, continued the deep voice of a man from behind her.

»Tse… what do you mean, ‘AGAIN’?«, Yato snorted and hastily turned his head to the left with a sour face.

»Common you guys, don’t start a fight on Christmas eve!«, Kofuku intervened with a smile, while she walked to the two incomers and grinned, then she observed them both and continued with a small amount of worry in her voice: »It’s gotten quite cold, didn’t it?«

»Well… yeah.«

»Doesn’t matter quite that much, does it? Just need, some fresh meal and a beer, and everything will be fine already.«

»And why do you think, you will get any of those?«, Daikoku wondered, watching every single one of Yato’s steps, as he made his way to the kitchen door.

»Ah, common! Don’t tell me you didn’t prepare some delicious food for tonight? No need to lie, Daikoku, I can smell it without any doubt!«, Yato giggled and stretched out his hand to open the door right in front of him. Daikoku on the other hand, crossed his arms in front of his chest, a mean grin on his face. »Don’t have to lie. Why would I even bother to cook for a freeloader like you?!«

»Well then… explain – THAT!«, just in time, Yato pushed the door open and stumbled.

»H-Hiyori?!?«, both Yato and Yukine looked at the brown haired girl, standing in front of the kitchen unit. When she heard the two of them shouting out her name, she turned around. After the first moment of surprise vanished from her face, a big smile returned before she answered: »Welcome home.«

»What are you doing here?«, Yato asked, still standing there as if he did not know how to react.

»She came here around one hour ago.«, Kofuku explained while Hiyori was still busy with something neither of the four was able to get a glimpse of.

»Okay, ehm… and why exactly are you here?«, he wondered, not having moved the slightest.

»She is the only one helping out, so don’t complain!« Daikoku was the one raising his voice this time.

»I’m not complaining at all! And by the way: We were busy, you know? Hunting Ayakashi to keep the people save on Christmas!«

»That does really look delicious, Hiyori!«, Yukine interrupted and stepped right beside her to get a closer look on what she was doing.

»Thanks, Yukine.«

»So… do you still need help…?«, he wanted to know, unsure what to do next.

»I’m fine, thank you. I just helped out Daikoku. But I think you could set the table?«

»Sure.«

While Yukine walked over to the other side of the kitchen to grab the dishes, Yato finally entered the room himself, walked straight to the refrigerator and grabbed a can of beer. He immediately opened it up and took a big gulp. With a satisfied grin on his face and his eyes half closed, he turned around and said: »Ahhh~ that’s what I needed! I’m sure with all the delicious food Hiyori made for us, it’s gonna be the best Christmas eve so far!« Hiyori let out a soft giggle: »You’ll always love celebrating, whatever it may be, right?«

»Wh-… y-yeah, guess so.«, mumbled Yato and from one second to the other his big satisfied grin had vanished from his face.      He did not even manage to maintain direct eye contact with Hiyori. Instead, he put the can back on and took another big gulp from it.

»Whatever, just call me, when your preparations are done. Can’t wait to taste it!«

»You could help us, at least with the dishes, Yato!«, said Yukine, not even trying to cover the slight anger in his voice, as Yato walked past him. He did not reply anything, just raised his Hand into the air, before disappearing from everybody’s view.

»Argh… he can be such a jerk!«

»Calm down, Yukine. We are almost done with the preparations. You too can wait in the living room. Or maybe you should take a bath or at least a shower first? I’m sure it would help you to get warm again, plus I don’t want you to catch a cold.«

»Yeah, she’s right, Yukki. Just take your sweet time.«, Kofuku smiled, »I will help with the dish-….«

She wasn’t even able to finish this sentence properly, because halfway through it, she grabbed the plates, just to let go of them only one moment later. Neither of the tree bystanders was able to react quickly enough to prevent everything from scattering after hitting the floor.

»I told you to leave the preparations to Hiyori and me, didn’t I?«, Daikoku shook his head, while Kofuku shook of the surprised expression on her face and grinned again. »Oookay!« Her Shinki sighted and started to clean up the mess she was responsible for.

After leaving the others, Yato climbed up the stairs and entered the small room he and Yukine were given by Kofuku to live in. He walked across the room to reach the big window over on the other side. He then opened it up and shortly after he climbed outside, the can of beer still in one of his hands, to reach the roof. It was not that unusual for him to be up here. Sometimes, when he could not sleep and did not want to disturb the boy sleeping in the same room, he climbed here.

It had gotten quite a bit colder since he and Yukine arrived at the house, but for now, he did not feel cold at all. With ease, the god found his way over the tiles, right beside the house’s chimney, and sat down on the ridge. From up here, one had a great view at the city and thus it was already dark outside, all the sparkling lights. The latter were even brighter than normal tonight, because a lot of Christmas decoration had been put up.

‘This time, it’s gonna be different, huh?’, he thought and could not hide the fact, that his lips formed to a decent but honest smile. Throughout the last years he found himself wondering from time to time what it was like for all those families and friends to have a proper feast.

»Well… not too long ago we had this flashmob for Yukine’s first birthday, hm? … « ‘… that was a lot of fun, too!’ Yato tried to suppress a short giggle, while placing the can he just drank of between his legs and looked up into the clear sky. There was no cloud anywhere so all the stars above shined brightly tonight and even if the sky changed since Yato was born a long time ago, it never failed to touch his heart.

‘Damn… they really do take a lot of time. What are they even doing down there?!’, he wondered while listening to all the strange sounds and some yelling in between. »Well… whatever.«, he shrugged and put the can back up to his lips.

»There you are.«, the calm voice of a woman could be heard. Shortly after that, Hiyori appeared at the edge of the roof. It looked like she had hastily wrapped a warm jacket around her body, because none of the buttons were closed. So she tried to keep the jacket from going wild with her left hand and used her right to not lose her balance.

Quickly, Yato gulped down the beer in his mouth and sat up straight.

»I thought you’d be in your room, being lazy till we’d be done with all the preparations, but seems I was wrong, hm?«, she continued to talk while struggling to properly climb to the top.

»So… you’re complaining, too?! We fought countless of Ayakashi the whole day!«, Yato replied but as he looked into her face and seeing her smile he got confused. ‘She’s not complaining?’

»Yeah, I know that. You both are trying hard to help, by slaying the calamity. I’m sure many children can celebrate a great feast just because you two were there today.«

»You think so?«

»Sure!«

»Huh? … Mhm!«, Yato answered with a nod, still sitting on the roof, his eyes focused on the girl that carefully made one step after another to come closer. One may say her words were just a praise to make a friend feel better, but Yato knew by the way she looked into his eyes that it was not just her comforting him, but an honest answer how she felt about his latest actions. Maybe his goal, to become a god of fortune, finally came within reach! Coming to this conclusion, even if the roof was only barely lit, his cheeks turned visibly red. It may be due to the cold that started to affect his body, but why had his nose not gotten red as well?

Yato reached out for the can to get the last gulp and took his eyes of Hiyori, when he heard her scream and raised his head again.

‘Damn!’

In the blink of an eye he jumped up, the can fell out of his hand, rolled over the tiles and hit the ground. Not noticing any of this, he reached out his hand to grab hers, »Gotcha!«, he sighted in relief.

»Thank y-… Whoaaa…!«, but the roof was slippery and cold and because he already lost his balance too, the only way to prevent the both of them from falling was to pull her back in his direction.

»Ow…«, his back, as well as his head, were knocked against the roof tiles underneath, but as he was a god it did not bother him that much.

»Are you hurt?«, he asked the girl whose hand he was still holding. When he had pulled her back against his body, the both of them had fallen backwards with his back being hit against the roof and his body softening the impact of her fall. Now, as she tried to straighten herself up, their eyes met again, quite close.

»I- I’m fine, sorry… I’m not used to climb up houses while still in my human body.«, she replied with an excusive smile.

»Idiot… that’s dangerous!«, Yato breathed out slowly.

»I’m sorry.«, Hiyori repeated her apology in a more serious way than before, by lowering her voice. After a moment of silence, she spoke again: »Thanks for saving me, Yato. Not just tonight but throughout the whole year.«

Her face was pretty close to his. Who knows if he had heard her, had her face been any further apart, as she spoke quite softly. Her big, purple eyes looked directly into his, some strands of her long brown hair fell onto his face and there was no way he would be able to look anywhere else now. He did not even know how long they had been like this now. Some seconds? Several minutes? Maybe a whole hour had passed?

It had never felt that difficult to come up with some words to say to her. He was not even able to get a grasp on his own thoughts.

»You-…«, was all he was able to come up with, but as he saw the silhouette of her face, surrounded by the pale moonlight and a beautiful gentle smile her lips had formed into, he was no longer able to continue even that.

»Thank you, god Yato – god of fortune.«, she giggled, but he could tell that she totally meant what she said. ‘Fortune…?’ He had no time to think about that little word any longer. Just before he could sort out his thoughts, he felt something slightly tickling and soft touching his right cheek. At the same moment his heart burst out and started to beat uncontrollably fast. The Doki-Doki that echoed in his ears made it impossible for him to listen to anything else. Meanwhile, Hiyori placed her left palm on his right cheek while watching him closely. Her fingertips had only touched his skin for a split second, when her smile turned onto a slightly worried look.

»Are you okay? Your cheek fells chilly...«

»Y- yeah… I’m not cold at all.« ‘Not at all!’

»… and your face is all red. Maybe you caught a cold while staying outside all day?«, Hiyori continued without listening to his words. Yato shook his head. »I’m a god, remember? We don’t get ill.«

»Is that so?«

»Sure!«

After his quick reply, her features softened again. She kneed on the roof, then stood up and grabbed his hand to lift him up, too.

»Let’s head inside anyways. I’m sure something warm to eat is better than standing in the cold, be it humans or gods?!« He nodded still trying to get back control over his heartbeat. Hiyori smiled in return and turned around to make her way back to the lower floors. Before she could make any step forwards, Yato reached out for her right wrist to turn her back in his direction again.

»Wait a minute…«

»What is it?«

»…« Yato looked at her with his deep blue eyes trying to find the right words he was looking for. Almost as if he was a shy teenager.

»Yato?«

He closed his eyes for a mere second. As their eyes met again, a fresh but gentle gust blew through their hair. »Merry Christmas, Hiyori.«

»Merry Christmas, Yato.«, she smiled back, when she suddenly opened her eyes widely and directed her gaze into the sky right on top of them.

»It’s snowing…«, she whispered, but despite his heart still running wild, he could hear every single word she spoke, »… just in time.« There were not many snowflakes falling down but those that came close to them danced beautifully through the sky as if they were to celebrate with everyone.

»Let’s get back down, shall we?«

»Yeah.«, Yato agreed as she took his hand and kind of dragged him back down.

They stood in front of the foot of the stairs, so technically right in front of the living-room door, when they heard some strange noises from inside followed by two male voices giving the impression of not knowing how to deal with the situation any longer.

»Jeez… what are they even doing?«, Yato wondered, meanwhile Hiyori had walked to the door to open it. When she was just about to do so, all the lights went out and left a confused Yato standing in the dark corridor. »What happened? … Hiyori?! … Yukine?!«, he screamed, but got no answer at all.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Yato opened his eyes and jumped to his feet. ‘Hiyori?!’ He looked from left to right, but neither Hiyori nor Yukine were anywhere to be found. »What the-…?«

He moved two steps forwards, but did not notice the body of a young man lying right beside him and stumbled over.

»You-…«, he started to complain, but shortly after he hushed. ‘Kazuma?’

When he recognised the Shinki lying on the ground, he once more looked around. He was not in Kofuku’s house anymore but in one of the city’s back roads. ‘A dream?’ The cold that had increased over night crawled over his back and made him shiver a bit.

After looking down again to check whether Kazuma was still asleep, Yato put his hand into one of the pockets of his tracksuit. With a sigh of relief on his lips, he put his hand back out again and looked at a small statue in the shape of a capybara, Hiyori made for him some days ago. A saddened smile appeared on his face, as he closed his eyes.

»I’m sorry...«, he whispered, holding the sculpture in both hands, tightly pushing it to his chest, »… we shall meet again. I promise.«

[tiny-ghost-boi]

Kinktober Day Eleven; Biting/ Ferality/ Marking/ Claiming, Wolf! Bakugou

Warnings: rough sex, hickeys, biting, scratching, tail kink, muzzles

Reader’s Body Type: gn as always

NSFW Under the Cut

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To say you were scared was an understatement. Lost in the forest without cell service was not how your night was supposed to go. You were supposed to be getting drunk with your friends, but instead you were wandering the woods, shivering. You pulled your jacket on over your shoulders, rubbing your skin vigourously to try and generate some heat.

You yelped when you heard a loud howl, agonzing and feral. Your brain told you to run, far away from the scary animal noise, but you didn’t. Rather, you walked in the direction of the noise, hearing it again repeatedly. 

You entered a small clearing seeing a wolf there, it’s hind leg trapped in a bear trap. It had clearly tried to get it out itself and had failed, seeing as it’s ashy golden fur was matted with blood. You cooed sympathetically, moving closer to the creature. It whipped it’s head around to face you, growling, but it’s anger quickly moved into a high pitched whimper of pain. 

You crouched next to the wolf, grabbing the trap around it’s leg and forcing it open, hissing when the sharp metal peirced the skin on your fingers. The wolf quickly lifted it’s leg out and stumbled backward as you let go of the trap, flinging it away so it wouldn’t hurt another animal.

You looked over at the wolf, seeing it’s vermillion lock onto you. Wait.. what kind of wolf had red eyes? Fear flooding your system again as you backed away slowly, watching the creature transform, fur smoothing out to flushed skin, paws turning into hands, and soon you were eye-to-eye with a wolf person hybrid of some sort. 

He was thankfully clothed, fluffy ears portruding from spiky ash blonde hair, a large tail wagging behind him. Your face heated up, realizing he was actually kind of attractive, you looked at the wolf-man, then behind him to see if there was anyplace you could escape to if he ended up dangerous.

He moved closer to you, until he was basically on top of you. He lowered his head to your hand, flipping it over, examining the small cuts in your skin. He grunted, leaning down and licking your hand repeatedly. You let him finish, before he sat up and glared at you.

“There.” he grunted. “You helped me, I helped you. I don’t owe you shit.” your jaw dropped and his glanced at you quizzically. “What? Why are you looking at me like that, human?”

“I- I’“ you spluttered. “You can speak?” 

“No, as I matter of fact I communicate in growls and barks- YES I CAN SPEAK!” you flinched away from his harsh voice, but maintained eye contact.

“Um, are you okay?” you asked. “With the uh- the leg and everything? I have a first aid kit in my car-” even saying it you felt stupid, a first aid kit wouldn’t help a leg that had been in a bear trap! You were surprised it was still intact.

“I’m fine!” he barked, turning around and falling face first into the dirt. “I did that on purpose!” You chuckled, moving closer and resting a hand on his shoulder. He tensed, but relaxed quickly.

“Hey, can I take you to the hospital? It’s a human place for healing-”

“No.”

“Geez, okay, bleed out alone in the forest, fine.” you threw your hands up, and the wold-man quickly sat up at grabbed your wrist.

“Don’t go-” you looked at him, confused, He sent such mixed signals! “I- I don’t know, you’re not trying to kill me so that’s something so I guess- you could help me.”

“Alright, well I have helped you, and I want to help more. My name’s Y/n.”

“Katsuki Bakugou” he spat it out like it was a curse on his tongue. 

“I have bandages in the first aid kit in my car, if you help me get out of the forest I can bandage your leg, does that sound good, Bakugou?” Bakugou pursed his lips.

“Fine, but you’re taking me to your ‘car.’ I can’t trust you not to just leave me here.”

“Fine, you don’t trust me, that’s fine. Just put your arm around my shoulder so you can walk properly. That or turn back into a wolf-wolf rather than a human-wolf so I can carry you.” He glared up at you, grumbling before shifting back into a wolf. You scooped him into your arms and stood up. “Just point your tail in the right direction and I’ll get you there in no time at all.” 

The injured wolf grumbled against you, sniffing the air then pointing with his nose towards where you could find the parking lot at the foot of the mountain. You walked for about an hour before stumbling upon parking lot, empty safe for one car. Your car. You dug around in your pants to find your keys, unlocking your car and opening the trunk. You set Bakugou down and grabbed the first aid kit, opening it and pulling out a roll of bandages.

“You should probably turn into your more human form, Bakugou.” you suggested. “Then I can apply the bandages and some aloe vera cream.” Bakugou shifted into his taller form, glaring at you with vermillion eyes.

“Where did you get them?” he asked.

“The store.” you explained offhandedly, Bakugou shooting you a confused look, but not saying more. You rolled up his pants and he tensed, reluctantly allowing you to look at the injury. You frowned at the sight of the blood, but your eyebrows quirked up as you examined it closer.

“There’s a lot less blood than I expected.” you noted. “You must have really strong skin... that’s good.” Bakugou scoffed, flipping you off.

“Just hurry up and put those wraps on it!” he snapped.

“Okay, okay, just stay still, this shouldn’t hurt.” you rubbed the cream into his calf, wrapping it up in the bandages a moment later. You cut the bandage, handing him the rest of the roll.

“Okay, it’s wrapped up. Don’t put too much pressure on it, try using a large branch as a cane or crutch, aloe vera really helps prevent infection, and you’re pack should be able to help with all of this.”

You looked up at Bakugou, smiling at him, but your smile faded when you noticed the look in his eyes, it wasn’t anger, annoyance, embarrassment, or even gratefullness. It was... sadness. Guilt even.

“I don’t have a pack.” he snarled after a silent pause. “They kicked me out.”

“Oh, I’m sorry I just assumed-”

“Yeah.” he grunted.

“Do you- do you need a place to stay?” you asked, stepping closer, and placing your hand on top of his sympathetically. He remained silent, before looking up at you.

“Fine.” he snapped, the anger back in his eyes. “I have the humility to admit that survival in the forest is difficult with only one leg. I demand you take me to your home.” you laughed a little, this guy was so stubborn. You weren’t quite sure why you were inviting a stranger to your apartment, even if he was injured, it was a little weird, but it felt perfectly natural. 

You managed to convince him to sit in the front seat, then persuaded him to put on a seatbelt, then got him to keep from grabbing the wheel in an attempt to learn how to drive.

You got him to your apartment buiding and helped him up the stairs and elevators. The entire time he was silent, eyes narrowed in slight fear of all the ‘shitty human contraptions’ surrounding him. 

You finally reached your apartment and told him to sit down on the couch.

“I’ll make some food... you eat meat, right? Should I cook some chicken?”

“Cook? You mean you actually set your food on fire before eating it? I thought that was some shitty legend.”

“You have legends about humans? We have legends about animals and beasts! Also, cooking does not usually entail setting food on fire. It just sits close to a fire. It tastes way better cooked, trust me.”

You opened your fridge, pulling out some chicken left over from last night. You cut some pieces off and warmed it up in the microwave, putting it on two different plates and sitting next to Bakugou on the couch.

You handed him the plate, and he took it from you, giving you a look. He sniffed at the chicken before picking it up with his hands and tearing into it. You stared at him intently, waiting for him to tell you what he thought.

“It’s... decent I guess..” he grumbled, but he ended up cleaning everything off his plate before you were even halfway finished. “You gonna eat all that?”

“Um, yes?” 

“Too bad.” he took your food right from your hands, shoving it into his mouth and finishing it off. He looked over at you when he finished, noticing the absolute fury in your eyes.

“I just said I was going to eat that!” you exclaimed. “You can’t just eat my food! All humans hate that!”

“What are you going to do about it? Kick me out?” he laughed, half nervous.

“No, but I am very angry.” you growled. “Come on, I’ll show you where you’re sleeping.” you said.

Over the following few days, you cared for Bakugou. You checked his leg every day and introduced him to human things like TV and bathrooms. In return, he insisted he keep your apartment clean, which was honestly nice of him. 

After a few weeks, you had forgotten life without having the wolf-boy in your home. You’d gotten used to him crawling into your bed at night to pull your body against his.

One day, you got home from work (wow so surprising). You opened the door and he wasn’t there. You started to panic, seeing the whole place messed up. Pillows were torn and strewn across the place, and you worried if he’d hurt himself with one of the knives.

“Bakugou?” you called out nervously. You shut the door, racing through the apartment to find him. Your heart raced in your chest, sweating, “Bakugou where are you?” you heard a noise, spinning around to see where it came from. A low growl from the bathroom. 

You slowly approached the door, the noises getting louder. You recodnized it as Bakugou’s voice, relaxing a little. You knocked on the door, hearing his voice cut off.

“Bakugou? Are you okay? What happened?” you heard him whine pathetically from the other side of the door.

“Shit.” he cursed. “G-go the fuck away, I- I can’t risk hurting you...” he whimpered. You pursed your lips, confused.

“Bakugou, what are you talking about?”

“I-it’s fucking embarrassing- oh fuck~ shit I’m sorry~” Your face heated up from hearing him moan in the middle of his sentence, Then you heard the other noise.

“A-are you masterbaiting right now?” you stammered. “You could’ve just said so, I’ll leave you alone...”

“I-it’s m-more than that...” he whimpered. A thought popped into your head.

“Bakugou, do you have ruts?” the silence gave you your answer. “Can, can I help with it?”

“F-fuck n-no!” he shouted. “I’ll hurt you!”

“I trust you, Bakugou. I want to help you, and honestly the whole ‘rut’ thing is honestly turning me on~” all of a sudden the door to the bathroom flew open, and you were on the bed, clothes ripped and torn as Bakugou’s vermillion eyes piercing through you.

He was already naked, his cock dripping pre-cum and twitching. Speaking of his cock, it was huge. It had to be eleven inches. You bit your lip, reaching down to touch his cock. He shuddered, almost immediatly cumming over your hand.

Your eyes widened, surprised he came so easily. It was moments later when his cock was hard. He must have had an impressively high libido to remain erect like that.

“H-holy shit~” you murmured. Bakugou reached down, ripping your pants off you, forcing your legs over hi shoulders as he dived into your hole, trying to prep you with his tongue for his cock. You squeaked, covering your mouth with your hands.

“Katsuki.” he growled, cock twitching from your sounds as his tail wagged back and forth like an exited puppy.

“W-what? Ah~” 

“Call me Katsuki.” he dove back into your home and you whined, grabbing him by his ears and pulling him deeper into you.

“K-katsuki! Katsukii~” you moaned. “Katsuki want your cock, want your knot~” you wailed. He crawled over you, glaring gown at you with lust-filled eyes.

“Say it again.” he growled. “Give me your word you’ll take me.”

“Please, Katsuki I want you, I- I really like you.” you felt embarrassed, admitting your true feelings. You’d grown to feel attracted to the man staying at your apartment. Suddenly, his lips were on yours, tongues dancing together.

He pulled away, and you felt his teeth dig into your neck, hard enough to pierce your skin if he truly wanted. Then, you felt the tip of his cock poking against your entrance, slowly pushing in.

“Fuck~” me moaned. “I’m going fucking feral, I’m going to destroy you, I’m sorry, but I can’t fucking hold back...”

“Then don’t. Don’t hold back.” you whispered.

Needless to say, your neighbors were very concerned.

A/N: I am so sorry this came out late, and sorry to leave you on a cliffhanger, #Writer’sBlock

[celestiababie]

Yunho NSFW Alphabet A-Z

A= Aftercare (What they do/act like after sex)

 Yunho is literally the human embodiment of a teddy bear. After you two have finished, he’ll probably just lay on you, and kiss your neck. He just wants to cling onto you...before you two go for another round.

B= Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

 Yunho loves his smile the most and he knows you love it too. Whenever he flashes his bright smile at you, you get butterflies all over again, and he just adores that he has that effect on you. He loves your legs when you straddle him or just wrap them around him. Yunho loves the lazy days where you put your legs on his lap and just watch tv. He’s also quite the fan of putting them over his shoulders as he thrusts inside you.

C= Cum (Anything to do with cum… I’m a disgusting person)

 He gets carried away when he’s fucking you, so he often cums inside of you. When the two of you first had sex, both of you were so in the moment that you hadn’t realized that he came inside until a few minutes after. He panicked for a few seconds and apologized, but luckily you were able to calm him down by telling him that it was fine and that you were on the pill/clean. Ever since that day, he’s been hooked on cumming in you.

D= Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

 He really wants to fuck you against a mirror...preferably in the practice room. He’s had a few wet dreams about it, but he doesn’t want to bring it up, in case that you’ll be weirded out, and then he’ll end up embarrassed.

E= Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

 Yunho has some experience, but not to the point where he could call himself a pro. He’s probably gotten/given head before and that’s about as much experience he’s had before you. He knows how to get you worked up and he knows how to use his body very well. DANCERS ARE THE BEST AT SEX IDC.

F= Favorite position (This goes without saying)

 Probably missionary, but with your legs over his shoulders. He loves holding your legs up and rolling his hips into you, making sure that you feel him against the most sensitive within you.

G= Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Or are they more humorous?)

 This man-child is a clown! Do you really think that he’s gonna be completely serious? He will probably try and crack a joke here and there when he has sex with you. Whether you like that or not, he can’t hide his bright and goofy personality, even if it’s an intimate moment. 

H= Hair (How well-groomed are they?)

 Yunho trims regularly, but he’s not bare. He thinks that trimming makes everything look better and it’s just easier to maintain. Man-scaping shows character, folks.

I= Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

 He’s a giant teddy bear, and even though he’s very goofy, he’d be surprisingly intimate. He loves you and wants to express it both inside and outside the bedroom. Yunho is top quality boyfriend material, and he’d want to give you all the pleasure that you could handle. 

J= Jack off (Masturbation)

 He doesn’t jerk off that often, he can usually keep himself under control until he sees you. Sometimes if he just needed to release some of his energy, he’d rut against his pillow and send you the audio of him moaning. It would mainly be to try and convince you to come over or let him come over.

K= Kinks (One or more of their kinks)

 His tall ass has a size kink, y’all knew this was gonna be said. He didn’t care if you were even an inch shorter than him or a foot shorter than him, he’d still tease you for being smaller than him. Yunho adores how your body looks underneath him, there’s something about him being bigger than you that makes him feel like he can protect you. Yunho also has a slight exhibition kink, he likes the way his heart pounds from nerves, not knowing if someone was going to see both of you.

L= Location (Favorite places to do the do)

 As stated before, he has an exhibition kink, he believes that sex doesn’t have to stay in the bedroom at all times. Dressing rooms? On a balcony? Against a big window? He’s down for it all, but don’t worry, he’ll make sure no one actually sees... unless you’re into that.

M= Motivation (What turns them on?)

 Due to his size kink, sitting in his lap could get him a bit excited down there, it emphasizes how small you are compared to him, and he can easily tease you for it. Another thing that can get him doing would be teaching you how to dance/ dancing with you, he’s definitely tried to get you to do a sensual dance with him once or twice. If he sees your hips move a certain way or grind upon him, you can bet your ass that he’s gonna whisper in your ear about how much he wants to fuck you.

N= NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

 I personally believe that Yunho is a soft dom, so he wouldn’t want you to call you anything bad or degrading, he’d much rather praise you. You’re his baby, why would he want to be mean to his baby? 

O= Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

 He’s a sucker for getting head, he loves when you look up at him as you press kisses to tip. It’s not like he hates giving you head or is bad at it, he’s just average at the activity, he makes up for it with using his sexy ass hands though.

P= Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)

 This one is tough... I guess that it would all depend on his mood, some days he’ll be rough and desperate for a good fuck, and other days, he’ll be slow and sensual. He has no preference, it really depends on how much tension there is and how needy you both are.

Q= Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex and how often?)

He's a fan of them. You two often have to rush due to fucking in slightly risky places, but he doesn't mind that at all. Sometimes, he treats it as it's a game, which one of you is gonna cum first or, how fast can he make you cum?

R= Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks?)

 He has no problem taking risks and experimenting. He's curious about a lot of things and wants to try many things with you if you'll allow him to.

S= Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

 This boy has a lot of stamina, it’s scary. As a dancer, he’s able to have a lot of energy and on top of that, he’s a ball of energy in everyday life, so Yunho would be able to go multiple rounds. He’d want to keep going until you were too tired to keep your eyes open. Dis boi a freak lowkey.

T= Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them?)

 Poor baby would be confused by toys at first, but would slowly start getting more curious about them. He’d do mild research to find ones that would give you the most pleasure and then gift them to you. He’d be hesitant to use any toys on himself, but he’d give it a try if you really wanted to use them on him. 

U= Unfair  (How much do they like to tease?)

 He mainly teases you about your height, but other than that, he’s fair. He likes to give you what you want and even if he finds your begging adorable, he’d feel bad if he kept pleasure away from you...but if you make him jealous/ piss him off? Good luck.

V= Volume (How loud are they? What sounds do they make?)

 L O U D. He’s not annoyingly loud, but he’s not afraid to moan and groan if something feels good. He has to be careful depending on the location you two are having sex, but even then, he’s moaning for you. 

W= Wild Card (Random headcanon)

 Yunho had invited you over, all the boys were over, but he figured that you were comfortable enough to hang out with all of them. The 9 of you were sitting in the living room, your legs were on the taller male’s lap and he was softly caressing your leg as the rest of the boys were being loud.

  Jongho had noticed the older male’s hand on your leg and he narrowed his eyes at the both of you, throwing a pillow at Yunho. 

“Hyung, touch your girlfriend somewhere else!”

 The other boys had suddenly shut up and looked over at the two of you. Some were confused, some were flustered at the thought and a particular someone was smirking (Wooyoung). You hid your face behind your hands and took your legs off of your boyfriend’s lap. He pouted and made a bold move, pulling your entire body into his lap and kissing your neck. 

  “I’ll touch her where ever I want.” He muttered against your neck. The boys cleared their throats and contemplated whether or not they should just leave the room...

They didn’t, they kept talking, but couldn’t help but glance at the couple who were almost ready to rip each other’s clothes off.

X= X-Ray (Lt’s see what’s going on in those pants)

 He’s a big boi and has sexy hands, so I think he’s above average. He has a decent amount of girth to him and a plus would be that he knows how to use his hips. Big dick+dancer hips= fucking amazing sex. I don’t make the rules.

Y= Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

 He wants sex a lot more than he’d like to admit, he has so much energy that he wants to let out, and sex is a great way to release all that energy. He’s clingy and that clinginess will often lead to him needing you sexually. I’d say he’d want sex about 5 days out of the week.

Z= ZZZ (How quickly do they fall asleep afterward?)

It depends on how many rounds you two did. Usually, he wouldn’t feel that sleepy if it was a standard night of sex, but if it was a night where you two were at it like rabbits...maybe he’d get a little tired, but he rarely does.