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#THEY ALWAYS FIND THE WHITE BOY...... it's remarkable
silverdelirium · 3 months ago
Note
could you do dom draco x sub reader w light bondage&breeding and angry sex?
SORE LOSER | D.M
SUMMARY ➠ draco angry fucks virgin!cheerleader!ravenclaw!reader after you tried to pull a prank on him.
WARNINGS ➠ loss of virginity, kinda mean dom!draco, d/s dynamics, humiliation, rough sex, fingering, size kink, light bondage (tied hands), breeding kink, innocence kink, little fight at the start, degrading
WORD COUNT ➠ 2.0k
———
“rough game today, huh malfoy?” your bottom lip jutted out in mockery.
draco rolled his eyes. “shut the fuck up y/l/n” he seethed, plucking his gloves from his hands in a raging demeanor. nobody would be surprised if steam came out of the blonde’s ears.
“oh don’t be such an ass— i just wanted to congratulate you, you did a great job, just not enough to beat us i guess.” you mumbled the last part with feigned disappointment, yet your chest puffed with pride and amusement as you heard the few giggles of your housemates behind you.
malfoy rolled his tongue against the inside of his cheek before marching a few steps closer to you, causing your smirk to flatter as you stood chest to chest with the tall boy who only glared down at you.
“you’re very snarky for a slutty good-for-nothing ravenclaw” murmurs and gasps erupted from the small crowd that had formed around you both; most were now turning their sight back and forth between you two, awaiting your response.
you gnawed at your lower lip, swallowing down the knot that had formed in your throat as you lowered your white and blue mini skirt, the polyester blended fabric sticking slightly to the back of your thighs.
“i suggest you watch your fucking back malfoy” you threatened, slightly squinting as you pushed past him, mind racing through all types of pranks you have in store for the smirking boy you left behind.
——
draco was far from worried about your “intimidating remark”, going on about his evening as sulky as always.
though he was in slight panic mode when he made his way to his dorm, hearing a slight shuffle on the other end. 
he made a mental note to complain to his father later on about the rats in the castle if he did find one roaming around his room right now.
he opened the oak door as slowly and quietly as possible, grimacing when the hinges squeaked lightly. 
draco wasn’t sure if he was expecting some type of old burglar or a giant dragon lurking in his dorm. but it certainly wasn’t a pretty cheerleader bent over his bathroom counter, a bottle of bright orange hair dye in one hand, the other holding his shampoo bottle still; completely clueless about the flabbergasted male that stood in the doorway.
oh i’ve had it with this little brat— thought draco. though his pondering was cut short as he let his eyes travel downwards- to your perked up bottom— specifically your baby pink seamless panties— caught his attention.
he mentally cursed himself as he felt his trousers tightening by the second, mind full of images of your bare body and what it would look like writhing underneath him as he drove himself in and out of you repeatedly.
malfoy shook his head slightly as he caught himself from going too far with said thoughts.
yet he couldn’t help the devious smirk that crawled up his sharp features as he took slow strides to your still naïve form.
i’m gonna have a shit ton of fun putting this little one on her place.
he didn’t dare make a sound until he stood right behind you.
“boo!” 
you were sure your shriek could’ve been heard all the way to the common room.
“what the fuck, malfoy?” you yelled, putting a hand to your chest as you tried to steady your breathing.
“yeah ‘what the fuck’ is right you little minx, what the hell do you think you’re doing in my dorm!” that shut you up. the top of your ears went hot as you fumbled with your hands behind your back, trying to put on your best innocent look as you timidly looked up.
that only made the tent in his pants grow bigger.
“‘s nothing” you mumbled, not daring to even meet his piercing gaze.
“oh you’re in for it, dove” he warned, his tone having that one hint of dominance that made your legs quiver. “what do you me—” your question was cut short as draco hooked his hands under your arm sockets, a small yelp leaving your lips as you wriggled in his hold, that earned you a firm slap on your left arse cheek.
he dropped you down on his mattress, watching as you bounced slightly off it on your landing “what is wrong with you?” you confronted, a whine leaving your lips right after as he pinned both of your arms above your head.
“i don’t tolerate sneaky brats that swear they can get away with everything- i’ve had it with you and i think its about time i teach you some manners, sweetheart” explained draco, his enlarging cock giving a small twitch as he watched your eyes cloud with lust.
you swallowed thickly before answering, “yes please” your voice was small and meek, a wave of arousal gushing out of you and dampening your underwear as you watched him grin slightly in approval, his hands making quick work of getting rid of his shirt.
“uhm, malfoy” you tripped over your words, your face heating up. 
“what is it?” he paused his movements from where he was lowering your skirt.
“jus’ wanted to let you know i’ve never done this before” you muttered, feeling your heart thump loudly in your ribcage as you studied his reaction, which consisted of an intake of breath as he threw his head back, groaning as he felt blood rushing to his erect girth quicker than before.
it was as if he was seeing you in a whole different light, wanting nothing else than to fuck you until you begged him to stop— he wanted you to have your first time with him to be burned in your mind, so if you ever even thought about letting anyone else fuck you, the first thing that came to mind was how good he made you feel.
“merlin you’re gonna be the death of me, i swear” this made you giggle, seeing a guy get so frustrated to fuck you to the point his nails left scratches over your legs as he rapidly took your clothes off brought you immense satisfaction.
you now lay bare except for your drenched undies on draco’s bed. his hand hovered over your pulsing heat, his tone was promising and seductive when he spoke, “gonna make sure to leave this sweet cunt leaking with my cum” he delivered two small pats to it, causing a small shiver to spark through your spine.
draco settled his palms on your knees, spreading them apart so he had good access to your sopping core. his eyes went almost black as he saw the wet patch that decorated the cloth in the center.
two fingers slid it to the side, leaving draco to have a clear view of how bad you wanted this “my god, baby” he said “all of this for me?” he teased, hooking the same digits around the elastic band to drag it down your legs.
“gonna make sure this little pussy is all swollen and sensitive once i’m done with you” he didn’t even give you time to respond before he was slipping a finger in easily, making a small whimper leave your lips.
“draco- please” you pleaded, gasping when a second finger pumped in and out of your dripping hole.
“what is it baby? want my cock already you greedy slut?” he degraded, catching you off-guard but still clenching tightly around his long digits nonetheless.
you hummed in agreement, letting out a small cry as you felt his fingers sped up their thrust inside you, momentarily stopping to curl them and caress that one spot that had you seeing stars. 
“draco— shit!” you cursed, grabbing ahold of his wrists as your moans grew louder, the squelching sounds that came from your heat only dragging you to your peak faster. 
ecstasy clashed through your veins at an inhuman speed, feeling your eyes roll into the back of your head as you came without a warning, your juices spilling down onto his silk sheets. “that’s a good girl” praised draco, still finger-fucking you through your high. “can’t wait to feel you cream around my cock next”
you hissed slightly as he pulled his fingers out, letting the juices that covered them drip down to your buzzing nub.
“think you can take my cock now?” he questioned. though he was already pulling his trousers, along with his boxers, down.
you gaped at his size, suddenly feeling small and delicate in comparison to his thick length. but you wanted to feel that mouth-watering burn everyone gloted about, you wanted to feel him so deep inside you until he was bulging out of your stomach, feel that toe curling orgasm that only a good fuck could reach.
“want it” you babbled, five senses numbing into one. you watched him with beady eyes as he made his way to his nightstand, pulling out what seemed to be a silk tie from the bottom drawer.
you thought he might blindfold you. but no, he wanted you to watch him enjoy this too, watch him as he fucked you into delirium. hard.
instead, he took both of your hands and tied them together, pressing them down against his pillows as you squirmed in anticipation, wanting nothing more than to have him inside you.
“you’re gonna be a good little toy and stay nice and still for me, hm?” he was now on top of you, teasing your slit with the head of his cock.
“yes— promise” you whimpered, spreading your legs further as a silent plea for him to slide inside you.
he complied, chuckling a quiet “eager slut” before bottoming out inside you with one quick thrust. 
it hurt at first, your face contorted into a grimace as you tried to relax your tense muscles. “easy princess— fuck you’re so tight” soothed draco, stilling his hips before starting out at a murderous pace, making your eyes roll to the back of your head.
his voice was pure sex to your ears “little whore— i knew a little thing like you would love being fucked like a dumb toy”
his palms cupped your bouncing breasts as his tip continuously brushed that one spot inside you that had you crying out the blonde’s name like a prayer.
“whose dumb slut are you, baby?”
“yours! all yours— god you fuck me so good” you gasped, tears threatening to fall from your eyes as draco’s unmerciful thrusts edged you closer to the seventh heaven.
his cock twitched inside you, signaling that he was close to.
“you gonna cum around my cock and scream my name, angel? or is that baby brain not capable of even thinking anymore?” he faked a pout in the end, fighting off the smirk that wanted to crawl up his face as he saw you babble his name along with a few no’s and i’m a big girl!’s
ecstasy swam around your system as you watched draco groan in euphoria, his abdomen flexing as he pounded into you, his cock twitching with every thrust as he held on your soft mounds.
his praises sent you tumbling over for the second time. “such a pretty cunt, could fuck you all day if you let me, princess”
your orgasm blinded you for a few seconds as your pussy contracted around draco; which sent him over the edge too.
“my god, i’m gonna fill this little cunt up so good— until you’re fucking swollen with my babies, honey” he grunted, giving a few sloppy thrusts before pulling out, absolutely fucking enthralled with the way his cum seeped out of your spent pussy.
draco bit his lip before he was rolling you on your stomach, ass up and face buried in his pillows as you whimpered in sensitivity.
“hurts”
“this time i’m gonna fuck you stupid for your useless ass house beating us” he winked, right palm sprawling out on the swell of your bum as the other cradled your hip, stabilizing your body before he was balls deep inside you.
“such a sore loser” you chuckled, basking in the thrill of it all as he gave you back to back orgasms.
———
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genshinboys · 27 days ago
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MAFIA HEADCANONS - CHILDE
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WARNING: NSFW
PAIRING: CHILDE X FEM READER
PART 2 - new!
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You enter the desolate warehouse with a displeased frown on your face. Everything around is disgustingly damp and the air has this lingering musty smell. It irritates your nostrils to no end. Upon seeing your arrival, the two bulky men straighten up and ostensibly greet you with a hint of what appears to be fear behind their otherwise stone-cold facial expressions.
„What a fucking shit-hole. What is this foul stench? Couldn’t you find a better place?”
You scowl, crossing your arms on your chest.
„Ma-am, we had little choice here. It was a miracle to even catch him in the first place. This slick mother fucker!”
With a cocked eyebrow, you laconically seize the exhilarated thug up, barely suppressing the need to laugh out loud right into his triumphant face.
You click your tongue and trudge forward.
„Move, idiot.”
The lower ranks take a step back, letting you get through.
„Wait for me in the car.”
You order while pushing the metal pivot door with your hip and shoulder. So heavy. It leaves a stain on your pitch-black blazer.
„B-but, Ma-am, there are orders to kill him. The boss sa--,”
One of the henchmen voices his protest, questioning your decision with a dumb look on his face.
„I’ll take care of that. Get the fuck out before I kill you as well.”
They exchange a brief look with one another and collectively decide that your attitude leaves little room for further argument.
Once you are certain that they have vacated this revolting shitpit, you take a deep breath and enter the room with a galloping heart.
„Fancy seeing you here, girlie”
Childe welcomes you with a grin on his blood-stained face. Such a striking contrast to the poor state of his body, helplessly restrained and bound to a chair. There are some bruises on his torso, revealed by the torn shirt. It used to be white, but now the crimson blotches seep through the fabric.
So fucking miserable.
You bite your lip, tempted to turn your eyes away. It’s not like you haven’t witnessed this before. You have seen him injured so many times. The by-product of him and you jumping at each other’s throats whenever the chance has arisen. However, this time it is different. Somebody else hurt him and it does not appeal to you, in the slightest.
He looks pathetic, and your blood boils under your skin.
It makes you all the more angry, so fucking livid, that the idiot got himself caught on purpose. That much you know for sure.
„I’ve always realised that you’re nothing short of a moron, but fucking seriously, Childe?”
You mock him, closing the space between you and him. You stop right in front of his mauled body. Childe’s cerulean orbs glance up, seeking your face amidst the poorly-lit room. Your stomach sinks. He is so fucking handsome that it is physically painful when he stares at you with such ferocity. He always does. The blue pools reflect nothing but sincerity, revealing the blend of genuine emotions stirring inside of him. You fucking hate that. Your chest feels heavy and you wish you were blind.
„Thought you would be happy if I paid you a visit, no?”
Childe remarks, doing his best to express his disappointment. His eyes never leave yours as the boy pouts adorably.
„I have orders to kill you, you little shit.”
You are in no mood for his games and you go straight to the point.
He chuckles. Childe’s laughter echoes in the warehouse and his body shakes lightly.
„Do you think I’m fucking joking?”
You grab his hair and jolt his head up. He winces a little, but smirks nevertheless.
„I like when you’re so rough with me.”
You inch closer, tugging at his ginger strands even more. Childe feels your hot breath on his lips. He looks at you through half-lidded eyes, wondering how pissed you would be if he kissed you right now. Part of him wants to take that risk and give it a try, but one the other hand, he is still immensely mad at you himself. The mere thought that you didn’t tell him anything makes his plush lips set into a grim line.
In a sharp move, you release the gun from the holster hidden under your blazer and press it to Childe’s throat. He swallows and his Adam’s apple moves under the gun barrel.
„Oh really? Would you like it if I put a bullet through that pretty face of yours as well?”
Childe snorts, challenging you with his cerulean pools. They are so shiny, so unnaturally beautiful that it is too fucking distracting.
„I know about your little sister.”
He informs you, furrowing his brows and you almost drop the gun to the ground. You take a step back, thrown off balance.
He wasn’t supposed to get to know. You have always made sure to keep it a secret, so how come he found out? Your pulse spikes and palms feel clammy all of a sudden.
„For all the things we’ ve been through, you really should have fucking told me, girlie. I can’t deny feeling a bit hurt. Don’t you have any trust in me?”
A heavy sigh escapes his chest and he shakes his head in disapproval.
„We’re enemies.”
You remind him, regaining some control over your shaky palms.
„That’s bullshit.”
Childe shifts nervously in the chair, as if he wanted to lunge in your direction, but the rope keeps him steady in place. He looks hurt.
„I would have helped you. Fuck, I really would. You’re just so fucking stubborn. You have no idea how fucking furious I was when I heard the story.”
If his eyes weren’t enough of a problem for you, the concerned face he is giving you now leaves you feeling nauseous. This asshole. How dares he say things like that. Your heart keeps hammering in your chest, pounding against your ribs like a jackhammer.
He has no right to be saying shit like that. You bite your lip, eyeing him up and down. He belongs to a rival gang. You have always been enemies, simple as that.
„Fuck you! I don’t need your pity.”
You spit out, growing angrier with each passing second.
„I’ll help you get your sister back. You won’t be forced to work for this psycho anymore. I’ve already talked to my boss. Zhongli agreed to protect both of you!”
Childe rambles on and on and it only adds fuel to the fire raging in your heart.
„Shut up.”
You warn through gritted teeth, but he just never fucking listens.
„We have tracked her down. I wanted to tell you about that but of course you had to fucking vanish. So, the only way was to lure you out.”
„I said shut up!”
You lash out at him, grabbing what has left of his ripped shirt.
Childe juts his chin out, meeting your frantic eyes with a calm reassurance in his own. Your lower lip trembles and eyes get watery, but you won’t let yourself fall apart before him. In a frenzy, you lean in and lock your lips with his. Childe’s eyes widen and he gives out the cutest little sound of surprise. But the initial shock quickly subsides, only to be substituted with a feverish need to feel more of your tongue on his. Childe tilts his head, wantonly reciprocating the soft caress of your mouth, unabashedly exploring his. He loves that about you. He can never be too sure of anything when you are around, and it thrills him, breathes life into his lungs. He feels it deeply with every fibre of his being.
Childe kisses just the way he fights. Earnestly and with full devotion. Even being tied to the chair, vulnerable and beaten up to a pulp, he dominates the kiss, swirling his tongue against yours zealously.
This mother fucker.
You bite his lower lip, hard enough to draw some blood, and he moans excitedly, which makes you clasp your thighs as everything inside of your groin tightens. You swathe his handsome face with your palms, sucking on the sore flesh to patch up the little wound. His hips squirm helplessly, as he cannot move bound by the knot behind his back. He would like you closer, much closer.
You push him back and part your lips abruptly to catch some breath. Childe’s chest rises up and down erratically, pretty much in unison with yours. His cheeks flush in a rosy colour and it shatters your soul. Why is he so fucking cute?
„Hey, girlie,”
Childe begins softly, short of breath.
„I’ll help you. Everything will be alright, I promise.”
He all but whispers and you fist his shirt, causing your knuckles to turn white.
„If you don’t shut up, I’ll fucking make you, idiot.”
You go down to your knees, keeping a close watch on his bewildered face. It turns you on immensely. The way his cerulean orbs ogle you, stupefied by the scene acting out in front of them, is one of the best facial expressions you have ever seen on him. You reach out for his belt and Childe flinches, mouth hanging open as he blinks multiple times.
„Moan too loudly and I’ll kill you before you reach your orgasm.”
„W-what?”
Childe questions, somewhat panicked. Your skin prickles in anticipation seeing him so fucking dumbfounded. He shifts nervously. You make a quick work of his trousers and then underwear, releasing his cock which stands proudly in front of your face. He got fucking hard. So hard.
Your nails dig into his thighs.
Too big.
That is the painful realisation which leaves you petrified for too long. Childe smirks, amused by the reaction that his erected cock squeezed out of you. His chest swells in pride, and he feels in control, regardless of his shitty predicament.
„What’s wrong, girlie?”
He questions, sarcasm seeping through his words.
Irritated, you wrap your hand around the base of his thick shaft and lean in to kitten-lick the tip of his erection. It is so swollen and deliciously red. His cock feels so warm in your hand and you pump him up and down, all the time wrapping your lips around the mushroomy part. Childe shivers and groans, pathetically attempting to push his hips forward.
„Got so hard just from a kiss?”
You bite back, seductively tracing the vein that adorns his dick with your wet tongue. Childe whimpers, struggling with the rope that immobilizes his body. It is so frustrating.
„Fuck, untie me!”
He is very well aware of how desperate he sounds, but he could not give a flying fuck. His brain is too busy with the sensations going through his dick, this tightening coil in his lower abdomen that makes him want to rut into your mouth like a fucking animal. He keeps writhing, flexing his muscles using his full strength, just to set himself free and push you further down his cock. Your mouth is so slimy and your lips wrap around him just so perfectly.
„Ah-hah!”
Childe cries out, craving to bury his hands into your shiny hair, wanting to pull you closer and cradle you into his arms. Your walls contract, needily aching for Childe’s big cock to stretch you and fuck you silly.
„Careful boy. You’re going to hurt yourself.”
You click your tongue at the urgency of the ginger beauty, thrashing so hard that the rope only sinks deeper and deeper into his wounded skin. You don’t want him to hurt himself even more.
„If you stop fighting back, I’ll let you cum inside me.”
You bribe, and Childe goes rigid, turning pliant.
„Good boy.”
The corner of your mouth quirks up mischievously as you rise to your feet, letting his cock rest heavily against the rock-hard abs. The pre-cum stains his chiselled abdomen. Childe whines, already missing the warmth of your lips around his shaft.
Wasting no time, you hike up your pencil skirt and hastily remove your panties. Childe observes how you let them pool around your ankles, before you step out of them and place your hands on his shoulders.
He swallows hard.
You’re about to straddle him and his heart skips a bit.
If you’re indeed going to kill him, then at least he will die having his dream come true.
„Take off your shirt, please.”
The ginger boy pleads, eyes following your legs as you make yourself comfortable on top of him. He purrs feeling your weight fully resting on his body, legs hanging on the sides.
„You think you’re in the position to tell me what to do?”
You push the skirt just a bit higher to give yourself easier access to his throbbing cock. The cerulean pools drop lower. Your core is right in front of his dick. He squirms beneath you, and the next thing he registers are your fingertips pressed against the tainted flesh of his chest and abdomen. His heart is racing. You can sense how it pounds under the palm of your hand.
„You-you are always so mean to me, girlie, ahh---!”
Sparks of pleasure dance across his skin as you drag your wet folds all over his shaft. Your eyes grow glassy for the briefest of moments before you look at him with a coy smile. Childe notes that you don’t need your hands nor your mouth to torture the shit out of him. His erection sliding against your core makes you feel all tingly inside.
Childe wants to tug you closer, squeeze the meat of your ass and impale you with his cock, hard enough to hear you cry for mercy. He is so thoroughly done with all that teasing. Your pussy lips rub up and down the base of his cock, stopping right at the delicate tip. He would like to thrust his dick into you but you won’t let him, gently sinking just a few inches inside, but never as much as he would need. That fucking rope must be his biggest enemy now, and he will fucking have his revenge soon. Mark his words.
„Na-ahah-ah!”
Moan after moan falls from his lips and each one of them goes to your pussy, walls throbbing continuously as if his voice was in command of your impending orgasm.
„Curse this fucking rope!”
Childe cries out weakly, biting his lip hard. He seems to be on the verge of crying and it tugs at your heartstrings.
Crashing your lips together, you slide your fingers around his leaking cock. It pulsates in your hand, begging you for more. Childe groans into your mouth, sensing that you are about to insert his twitching length into your hole.
He closes his eyes and exhales a long, ragged breath. The tip slides in smoothly, and soon he feels more of that velvety warmth sweetly enveloping his hard dick. He opens his eyes to see the frown of pain on your face, as you fight to take him all in. His groin tightens and he starts chanting your name like a lunatic.
„I told you to be f-fucking quiet! Na-ahh-ah!”
Your thighs quiver once he bottoms out, hitting your cervix dead on. Childe’s voice dies out in his throat. The feeling of being fully hugged by your throbbing pussy is so intense that he clenches his teeth, not being entirely sure how long he will be able to take it.
„I fucking hate you!”
It is you screaming now, heat pooling down your thighs and forcing you to rock your hips into his monstrous length.
„B-baby, Baby, take it easy. Just take it easy.”
He barely manages through his tightly flexed jaw. Childe wants to calm you down, his lips placing kisses on your knotted brows. You lean forward, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders and you capture his lips again, tongues mingling together passionately. Carefully, you rock back and forth and his dick basically destroys your small pussy. It feels so full and big that you think it might actually reach up to your belly.
„Childe!”
You call out his name and he knows that he is ready to spill all over that tightness any time soon.
„Such a good girl, you are. Such a good little girl, Baby.”
He babbles more and more nonsense when you establish a steady rhythm, and despite the initial stinging sensation, it seems that your walls have stretched enough to accommodate him. Childe watches utterly entranced how your pussy lips glide over his penis when you persistently sink onto his cock, leaving a sticky little mess behind. You are so wet that slick keeps gushing from your pussy, coating his cock so beautifully. Oh, he would do anything to be able to taste you now, delve his tongue into that sticky hole and flick the sensitive bud until you start creaming right into his willing mouth.
Your sobbing gasps against his lips and frantic thrust tell him that you are just as close as he is. You shove your hand into his hair again, fisting it angrily. The waves of need surge through your convulsing walls and it enflames your senses, urges you to keep fucking yourself on his perfect cock.
Childe fixes his gaze on you, takes in the ferocity of your stare, the flush that has appeared on your round cheeks.
You.are.just.so.incredibly.sexy.
He closes his eyes again, too afraid to peer into yours any longer with how much his dick is already twitching inside of you. He doesn’t trust himself around you, especially not his touch-starved cock.
You grind down on him hard, pressing your clit into his hard abs, just a little more pressure to throw you over the brink and come undone on his girth. He moans out loudly, as he involuntarily begins throbbing, shooting his cum in thick spurts into your squeezing core. His strangled whine make you reach your peak. The dam in your belly bursts, releasing the mind-numbing jolts of pleasure that overpower your body. Childe feels you tightening around him, squeezing him like a vice.
You milk him out well, sucking up all the cum that his balls have gathered for you, riding him wild and hard to the very last drop.
„Baby.”
Childe croaks out, as everything goes to a standstill.
„Baby, kiss me.”
And you do, albeit very sloppily and with little strength left.
„Untie me, please. Let’s get out of here, girlie.”
Childe says in between tender kisses. You cup his face and look at him for the last time before smiling gently at him. With no further explanation, you get up and cover your naked butt with your skirt. You do the same for him, packing his still half-hard member into his boxers.
„Hey, girlie?”
Childe questions, with a hint of surprise hidden behind his voice. You walk away from him and crouch down to pick up your gun.
„Hey!”
He yells, this time more annoyed than shocked.
„Don’t you fucking dare to leave me here!”
He warns, once again trying to squirm out of his restraints and it makes you giggle. You blow him a kiss and leave the room, hearing him scream after you.
Childe curses profusely, driven up a wall. He can’t fucking believe that you played him dirty like that. Blood boils inside him and he is ready to skin you alive when he lays his hands on you again.
He sits there and waits for more than an hour before finally picking up on some familiar voices coming from the depths of the warehouse.
„Over here!”
Childe hollers on top of his lungs and soon Zhongli’s face appears in his view. If his body wasn’t restricted, he would be jumping into his boss’s arms, relieved to finally be rescued.
„Fucking bless you, Boss. I thought I was gonna die here.”
Zhongli walks up to his friend and shakes his head in disappointment. Childe looks awful. Zhongli feels bad just by looking at him and the poor state that he is currently in. All the years of life-threatening missions and he has never seen the man so butchered up.
„You should have waited for our people to find her. You got what you deserved.”
Zhongli unhurriedly goes behind him, takes out the knife from the safety of his elegant vest and cuts the rope. Childe sighs in relief once his body is set free.
„How did you find me?”
The ginger boy questions, massaging his bruised wrists.
„Well, your girl called me using your phone. Told me that you might need some help in getting out of this smelly...,”
Zhongli halts, searching for the right word to describe this questionable place.
„Well, no matter. We discovered two dead bodies outside, must have been the men that held you captive, right? I assume she killed them and ran away.”
Childe, growing more worried about your well-being, attempts to get up, but Zhongli forces him to sit back down.
„If they get to know that she let me free, they’re going to kill her. Zhongli we must---,”
The black-haired man holds him tight in place, trying to get his attention back.
„Listen to me, Childe, listen!”
The cerulean orbs zero in on Zhongli, somewhat taken aback by his raised voice. He has never heard him doing that before.
„I convinced her to lay low. She is in a safe place, protected by our people. We got her sister back as well. Calm down, you’re scaring me.”
Zhongli straightens up, dusting off his black gloves. He exhales, too tired from all that ruckus.
„So-so, it’s all ok?”
Childe looks at him with eyes full of doubt.
„It is over, Childe. Get yourself together. We need to patch you up. You look pathetic.”
Zhongli reassures him and squeezes his shoulder for one las time. Childe peers at him, somewhat hollowly and then puts his head into his hands. He laughs out loud, still in denial of your audacity to leave him here like an abandoned puppy.
„Hey, Childe.”
Zhongli addresses him in a demanding voice and Childe lifts his head to glance at the tall man.
„She told me to thank you and asked to send her deepest apologies for..., erm--, you know, bailing on you like that.”
Childe snorts and his stomach churns, feeling all fuzzy inside.
„How fucking sweet of her.”
„Indeed.”
Zhongli chuckles, and extends his hand to help him get out of the warehouse.
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Other series:
MODERN AU HEADCANONS
GOING OUT ON A DATE WITH GENSHIN BOYS
THIGH JOB WITH GENSHIN BOYS
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novxturient · 3 months ago
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IMPULSE  part one — Rafe Cameron
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series masterlist part two. | part three. | part four. | part five. | part six. | part seven. 
summary: where Rafe develops an unhealthy obsession; a simple attraction turns into a fixation. warnings: drugs, alcohol, addiction, swears word count: 2.3k+ a/n: this fic takes place in season 1, so there are no season 2 spoilers present!
Discomposed, that’s how he felt when his body hasn't gotten as little as a little milligram of drugs in it. His fingers were always trembling and he couldn't contain himself not even when he put his hands on the frigid arms of the wood chair, watching how little lines were slowly forming on the table he sat at. Impatience was telling it’s word, Rafe brought his fists up to his mouth and felt the cold ring touch his lips, mouth hanging slightly open to say something.
"Cut the bullshit man, you've been prickling on these for at least half an hour" Everyone at that table could tell the boy was anxious just with one look at his bouncing leg, some knew the emotion he felt very well, the rest being lucky enough not to fall pray to it yet.
"First line is all yours, kook prince" Those words were enough for him to indulge himself, not caring much for the face the man who said that made, feeling irony towards how an impeccably rich kid would only find peace in such harmful things.
Rafe knew it was a mistake to not bring his own stash tonight, feeling the so familiar stinginess in his nostril, but he couldn't risk getting into another beating with Barry, so he relied on the invitees to bring their own stuff to the party. Quickly wiping the white dust that was frosting his nose with his palm, the brunette turned to face his friends. "You've got to try this man I'm telling you, you feel out of this world" It wasn't the first time he tried to make his friends try this harmful antic of his, Rafe always tried to make Topper snort something, maybe that way he'd have more fun instead of being his sister's little puppy, he was growing sick of having him obey everything she said, and making her boyfriend do something she would most definitely not tolerate and piss her off gave him motivation, but Topper knew better than to let himself be persuaded by his problematic friend, so he responded with a slight nod "I think I'm going to find Sarah." Obviously, you fucking puppy, Rafe thought as a chuckle escaped his lips. Thanks to the cocaine making him more stable than before, his trembling stopping right after he put his nose in the fine powder , he had a clearer perspective on who was entering the party. They all seemed the same as him, entitled rich kids who believed they own everything they desire just because of their family's money, it was easy to tell that just by taking one look at their faces, more specifically, at the way their eyes got smaller with spite when they remarked someone who wore something cheap at the party.
Maybe that was the reason why you were so nervous as well, especially given your complicated situation.
"Your dress looks fine, don't be so stressed about it!" Of course Sarah would be the one to comfort you while looking like little miss perfect. "I'm just not in the mood to get dirty looks just because of the creases on this dress." you kept tugging on your dress and brushed it with your fingers, hoping no crease would be seen. It was your way of saying 'Look, I'm back, and I'm still the Kook I've always been' even when that's extremely far from the truth. Being born a kook due to your mother's business, then turning in to a pogue because of bankruptcy, now being a kook again thanks to Ward's business offer, meant that everyone was having their eyes on you, not shying away from making rude comments either, you knew the game they were playing, acting like they're so glad to see you again but act like you're filth behind your back. Once you become a pogue, you're tainted, and they could see it from miles away.
By the way your blonde friend was looking at you, you knew she has told you something and you sadly ignored her. "Y/N have you heard what I said? Don't say a word about John B to anyone, alright? Especially Topper, I swear I'm going to tell him someday but today is not the day." She defended herself, sighting in  frustration. You loved Sarah, she's been through it all with you, the only friend that stayed with you even when as a pogue, but there was no denying to how wrong you found her relationship status, hoping she would do something about it before it causes harm to either John B or Topper. Speaking of the devil, her blonde eyed boyfriend was behind her back before she could even finish the sentence. "Today isn't the day for what?" Just by taking one look at Sarah’s expression you could tell how relieved she was that he hadn't heard what she has said earlier. He placed one kiss on her bare shoulders before eyeing you, straightening his posture before speaking "Y/N hi! Missed having you around here" Maybe there was a slight chance you would've believed him if he hadn't cut off all the contact he had with you once you went bankrupt, or perhaps it was his parents who made him do it, either way, the kook was smiling at you as if seeing the ghost of an old friend.
"Glad to see you again, Topper" returning the same smile, more ironically than him, you responded to the question he had earlier "Today is not the day to be sober, especially for me, so I'm going to find the nearest bar and grab myself something" you turned on your heels, leaving the couple on their own, already thinking of a good apology to give Sarah for leaving her alone, it wasn't your intention to do so, but you just didn't want to tolerate Topper tonight, he could get quite annoying , especially at parties.
You were so caught up in your own thoughts that you hadn't noticed the way a certain green eyed boy kept following you with his eyes. He watched you ever since you came into the party, hoping to get a clue on what you were talking about with his sister. The changes in your behavior were prominent, you seemed bolder than before, more intriguing, standing at the bar with one leg over another, hoping that the bartender would arrive soon and in dire need of company, you seemed more exciting than whatever was going on anyways, so he patted Kelce's shoulder and told him to keep his seat unoccupied.
"I could make you a drink myself, if you'd like." Rafe Cameron was standing barely a meter away from you, his eyes scanning your surprised face. You haven't talked to this boy in a year, and only saw him when you were  desperately trying to stop a beating between him and the pogues. Needless to say, he wasn't in your good graces, and the things you heard about him only fueled that, but you had to keep your composure due to your parent's business.
"I'd accept it, but I have the feeling that you would slip something in that drink." A weird defensive laugh escaped his lips, unsure whether to be offended or amused by the joke. "I wouldn't step that low." He placed his hands on your leg, dangerously close to the hem of your skirt "You've got a sharp tongue lately, be careful with that, wouldn't want someone to bite it off." it came out almost as a whisper while leaning forward to graze your cheek, only for you to turn your head around and mouth "Asshole", taking his hand off of your leg. After spending so much time away from this scene, the entitlement these people felt to everything, even to a person, disgusted you to the core, and Rafe’s new found sense of courage to touch you like that after being nothing but trouble to your friends, was no exception.
"Alright then" Judging by the look on his face and how abruptly he has gotten off that chair, you could tell he was a bit hurt, however, that wasn't any of your current concerns, tonight, your biggest concern was getting wasted.
-
One look at your sparkling eyes and everyone within a mile radius would notice, you were gone, the burden of keeping you in check falling upon Sarah, at least she had an excuse to leave from Topper, yet your current state wasn't much better than his company.
"Can you stop hitting me with your legs? I'm trying to help you out here." Your left hand hanged on her shoulder as she was struggling to keep you standing despite your disapprovals. "But I want to dance" your other hand grabbed the blonde cheeks, making her look you directly into your eyes "Dance with me, Sarah Cameron" She rolled her eyes slightly humored by your words, unaware of the fact that you were about to stumble on your own feet. "Y/N watch it!" It was too late for her warning, you were already laying flat on the ground, a hand over your head to check if you were still alive from what felt like the worst fall of your life, it was hardly that, but the alcohol accentuated that feeling. You could thank God in the morning that no one was paying attention to your state, the others being too caught up in their own fun, well, the others besides two siblings and one blonde "What do we have here?" Rafe laughed at the image in front of him, which only determined you to get up on your feet by yourself and try to sound as sober as possible "I'm fine, thank you for being a gentleman and asking" you stumbled on your feet once again, luckily this time Sarah caught you just in time and placed her arm on your waist. "I need to get her home before she gets worse" the blonde commented to Topper, hoping you wouldn't figure out what she said. "I cant drive her, I had too many beers" normally, he wasn't scared of drunk driving, he's done it so many times before that he lost count, and thanks to mommy's money, he got away with it every single time, even so he would prefer staying with Sarah tonight, given the fact that she was quite tipsy as well.
"I can drive her" Rafe stepped in, gaining suspicious looks from the other girl "How can you drive her? Aren't you high?"
"The high wore off, I'm sober enough to drive her home, it's not that far anyways"
The blonde girl gave in, truth to be told, it was because she didn’t have any other options. she was helping you get to her brothers car, buckling you up carefully.  You had not figured out that you were going to be driven home until you were a few streets away from your house, slowly bringing your fingers to your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose in the haziness. "Stop" your voice was so raspy that Rafe wasn't sure if it came from the radio or you finally sobered up a bit "I said stop, Rafe." louder, he turned to you, it was definitely your voice. "I can't go home, not like this. Mom would eat me alive." Your head was spinning and the only thing you could focus on right now was not throwing up in the car, even though it was getting harder and harder as minutes went by.
"Where do you want me to take you then?" He stopped the car in a curve and it took all in your power to contain yourself "Y/N, where do you want me to take you?" his short tempered nature got the best of him, practically yelling at you right now.
"I DONT FUCKING KNOW ASSHOLE ANYWHERE BUT HERE AND DO IT BEFORE I THROW UP ALL OVER YOUR FREAKING CAR!" You've had enough, you needed to go to the nearest bathroom as soon as possible, the boy throwing his hands in defense before changing his route, to his house. The rest of the drive was silent, neither you or him uttering a word until you got to the front door, being as silent as you could before reaching his room.
"I'd let you sleep in Sarah's room but her door is locked, Wheezie's is occupied as well so you could sleep in my bed" Not thinking a second before uttering those words, you plunged into his bed, exhausted from the whole night. You wouldn't have accepted staying in his room if you were sober and having rational thoughts, however here you were, staring at how Rafe Cameron looked at you, not knowing what reaction to have, fidgeting with his fingers.
"I'll sleep on the couch" he told himself softly, seeing how your eyes were slowly closing and how much you were fighting your tiredness.
"Rafe?" you whimpered after a while, not knowing whether the boy was able to hear you or not.
"Hm?" He wasn't asleep either, contemplating on his own thoughts from the night earlier. "Why do you always get high?" you shifted into the covers, hoping to get a better look at him "For the same reason you got so drunk today." he spoke with his eyes closed, as if he was talking in his sleep.
"Sometimes you just want to escape from this reality, you know? This-Everything got me stressed to my core, all of the shit there is and all of the crap I have to take just for being a burden. I don't feel like that when I get high, I get to be free from my own thoughts for a bit, and that's all I ever fucking wanted." Rafe didn't mean to get so aggressive with his speech, but when he saw the frown on your forehead, he knew it came out that way anyways "I'm sorry. Didn't mean to scare you off like that" however, to his surprise, you gave him the softest smile he has ever encountered in the last time "You're not a burden, Rafe." was all that you could mutter before passing out to sleep, heavily tired, leaving the boy to stare at your figure, with a grin plastered on his face.
It was unsure what got him feeling that way, for the first time in a few years, he wasn't trembling anymore without drugs. His hands were steady, his heart wasn't pounding out of his chest, and his mind found peace. He felt serene.
You eased him better than any drug.
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saintodo · 10 days ago
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I mean… if you ever wanna expand on fucking a baby into (insert character here)… 👀
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𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐌𝐘 𝐀𝐋𝐋
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SYNOPSIS. after retiring from sorcery work, nanami settles into married life. after awhile, he finds himself longing for something more: a family.
NOTE. i very often think about fucking a baby into nanami because he is the center of all of my domestic daydreams. this was supposed to be a thirst but it’s now the longest thing ive written lol. i know this won’t be everyone’s thing but pls be nice x
PAIRING. sub bottom nanami kento x dom top afab reader
WORD COUNT. 4.9k
WARNINGS. explicit content, breadwinner reader, househusband nanami, kitchen sex, partially clothed sex, anal fingering, hand jobs, pegging, heavy breeding kink (reader is trying to fuck a baby into nanami), nanami gets fucked over the kitchen counter, discussion of kids
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When you and Nanami get engaged, he makes the choice to leave behind the world of sorcery. The decision comes to him rather easily. He does not hate his role as a jujutsu sorcerer, but Nanami is, admittedly, tired. Over the years, he has grown jaded and cynical. He is weary— exhausted from the emotional burden of shouldering all the deaths he’s bore witness to, all the deaths he’s quietly grieved over.
Objectively, Nanami recognizes that his planned actions are selfish. After all, he is choosing to turn his back away from a world that he knows could benefit from his help. However, maybe it is time for him to be selfish. Nanami has always known that being a jujutsu sorcerer would inevitably lead to his death, and he had accepted that long ago. But that was before you had entered his life, before he knew what a love like yours felt like. Nanami does not want to envision you grieving over his death. The thought pains him— the idea of hurting you so greatly. He could never do that to you. So, he chooses to quit.
Leaving for the second time is less painful than the first time around. 
Before Nanami even goes to meet with Yaga, Gojo barrels into his office with a grin. While closing the door behind him, the older man gleefully congratulates the blond on his engagement, which he should have no knowledge of, and tells him that he expects an invitation to the wedding. Then, the white-haired sorcerer whines about his problem of “Who am I supposed to bother when my favorite kouhai quits?” Nanami sighs- a deep sigh that comes from the depths of his chest- and pinches the bridge of his nose. Of course, Gojo would be the first individual, besides you, to know of his intention to leave his job (and of his engagement). After making a dry remark that he is sure Gojo will have no trouble finding someone else to bother, the white-haired sorcerer grows uncharacteristically serious. 
“Y’know, I’m happy for you, Nanamin,” Gojo abruptly says, changing the course of the conversation. He sounds genuine for once. His overly wide, almost fake, grin drops. The corners of his lips soften up into a small smile. His crystal-blue eyes crinkle beneath his blindfold.
Nanami raises a brow, surprised by the older man’s words and actions. Nanami doesn’t think he’s ever heard the man be so sincere before. He quickly overcomes his mild shock and composes himself, clearing his throat a little bit. “Thank you, Gojo,” he earnestly replies. They trade remarks back and forth for a little while longer. The conversation ends with a wave tossed into the air over Gojo’s shoulder and a “See you around, Nanamin,” on the man’s lips as he exits Nanami’s office.
Yaga appears stunned when Nanami later walks into his office that day to turn in his two-week notice but does not attempt to convince Nanami to stay. He simply nods and tells the younger that he will receive a severance package when he departs.
When Nanami informs young Itadori of his departure, Itadori deflates instantaneously. But, the pink-haired boy is quick to bounce back to his usual self when Nanami assures him that he will still keep in frequent contact and that Itadori is welcome to visit your home anytime he would like. Nanami finds it, rather, endearing that the boy cares so much for him that he would noticeably feel his absence. It’s not like Nanami does not feel the same.
Once Nanami’s two weeks are up, he gathers all of his belongings from his office and compiles them into a small, cardboard box. He does a quick sweep of the empty space for the last time and flicks the lights off before he leaves the room. It’s strange, leaving this life after being in it for so long, but Nanami is content. He is looking forward to starting a new chapter of his life with you.
Originally, Nanami intended on finding another job right away, maybe one as a salaryman again, but you suggested that he just retire for good.
“You’ve worked so hard, Kento,” you comment from where you’re perched in his lap. The two of you are lazing around, tucked into a pocket of your sofa. Absentmindedly, you rake your fingers through his blond hair before cupping his cheeks with your palms. Your gaze softens as you look into his warm, brown eyes. “Let me take care of you.”
To your dismay, Nanami doesn’t agree right away. Instead, he tells you that he will take what you’ve said into consideration. You relent, knowing that you will not be able to completely convince him by yourself, but heavily emphasize that you are more than happy to be the only one working.
“I can be the breadwinner, and you can be my pretty househusband,” you joke. Your tone is lighthearted, but Nanami can hear the sincerity of your words.
He cannot deny that the idea of retiring is appealing. Working as a salaryman was shit. Despite contemplating it previously, Nanami cannot truly imagine throwing himself back into that lifestyle. And it’s not like he doesn’t have enough funds to sustain himself and you for the rest of your lives. He saved a good amount of money from working, both as a salaryman and a sorcerer, and he’ll continue to receive compensation from sorcery work for a while as well.
However, Nanami does feel a little guilty at the thought of you being the only one with a job— he doesn’t want to force you to be the sole earner of active income or the “breadwinner” as you put it. He does not want you to feel that sort of pressure, that you have to support you and him all by yourself. But… Nanami has money to help support you both, and you would not suggest for him to retire if you did not mean it.
You may have made a few joking remarks after your original comment, but Nanami knows you were completely serious about making him your “pretty househusband.”
After much deliberation- and checking in with you repeatedly to ensure that you were comfortable with his choice- Nanami makes the decision to retire. When he informs you that he has settled on retiring, your eyes brighten. The happiness emanating from you is palpable and so infectious that Nanami cannot help the way his eyes soften and his lips curl into a small smile. Yes, he has made the correct choice, he thinks. If it is one that could bring you such happiness, it surely is.
Nanami retires, and you get married exactly six months afterward. 
The wedding is a joyous occasion. The venue is beautiful, and the affair is small and intimate. Only close family and friends join you two for the event. Gojo was utterly delighted that he did receive an invitation and got to be Nanami’s best man on top of that, exclaiming that Nanami did love him, much to the blond’s irritation. (Nanami may consider Gojo a friend, but he would prefer it if the latter weren’t so embarrassing about it.) Itadori sheds a few tears from his place alongside Nanami as one of his groomsmen when you two share a kiss and seal your marriage. The crowd, consisting of your loved ones, cheerfully whoops and claps, and Nanami smiles against your lips.
It all feels a little surreal to Nanami. He would have never envisioned himself leaving the world of sorcery for a second time and finding a love like yours. He may have dreamt of settling down one day and marrying someone during momentary bouts of vulnerability, but he never thought it would be his reality.
Nanami thinks you look positively radiant in your formal attire. Beautiful. So beautiful, you are. He tells you so when you waltz across the dance floor to a slow melody for your first dance as a married couple. You immediately beam and quip that he doesn’t look so bad himself. He chuckles at that, deep and throaty, and lets himself drown in the happiness of the moment.
Settling into retired life is easy, much to Nanami’s surprise. He would have thought he would become restless with the inactivity, having grown accustomed to the fast-paced and adrenaline-filled life of sorcery, but he enjoys the peace and calm associated with his days. He finally has a chance to delve into hobbies he never had time for. Nanami finds that he enjoys cooking, frequently trying out new recipes that pique his interest. He’s meticulous in his approach, striving for perfection with every attempt. His dedication pays off. Nanami likes how your eyes light up when you take a bite of the food he’s prepared for you. Contentment swirls in his stomach when you praise his cooking with cheeks stuffed full of food.
Nanami’s days are simple and mundane, but he could not be more at ease.
However, after some time, his thoughts begin to drift onto a certain topic. His gaze lingers for a little longer on the children that play at the local park when he runs by them during his afternoon jog. He passes through the newborn section of the store every time he goes to run errands and pick up whatever miscellaneous items you need for your home. He regularly invites Itadori to go out to lunch with you two and smiles affectionately to himself while watching you interact with one another. He pays close attention when the sorcerer-in-training shares life updates and adds input here and there when appropriate.
Nanami is... fond of the idea of growing your family, and you are more than perceptive of that. It’s not like Nanami is attempting to keep his thoughts a secret from you. He is merely figuring out the best way to broach the topic. But, Nanami soon realizes that all of his ruminations were unnecessary.
He is in the midst of cooking when you sidle up behind him. The sound of the door unlocking earlier, which was accompanied by a tired but familiar greeting, indicated to Nanami of your arrival home.
He continues stirring the sauce he has simmering on the stove, leaning back into your hold when you come up behind him and wrap your arms around his middle. Nanami notes how you’re still dressed in your work clothes, he can feel the distinct material press into his back, when you reach a hand around him to paw at the dial to turn the stove off, preventing him from finishing dinner preparations.
“Welcome home,” Nanami greets- slightly amused by your more than affectionate nature. You cling to him and rub your cheek against the broadness of his firm back.
“Mm, I missed you, Kento,” you mumble, tightening your arms around his waist. “I like the outfit,” you say not a beat later.
Nanami hears the smile that’s surely gracing your lips seep into your words. Your fingers move to fiddle with the lace trimming of the pastel apron he has on over his clothes. Large white cursive letters that read “Kiss the Cook!” cover the front of the garment followed by a graphic of a pair of pink lips. You had bought the apron for your husband as a joke, confident that Nanami would never allow himself to be seen wearing it.
To your delight, it became the norm for him to wear it whilst cooking. He claimed that it did its job well enough and that he couldn’t let a gift go to waste.
“I would hope you’d like what I’m wearing as you are the one who purchased it,” Nanami dryly responds. You only hum and bury your face into his back more.
“You look good in it.” 
You snake your arms into the side openings of the garment to smooth over the front of Nanami’s t-shirt before you settle your hands on his hip bones. Nanami sets down the wooden spatula he’s holding and twists his head at an angle that borders on uncomfortable to give you a “welcome home” kiss. Your lips are smooth and pillowy soft, unlike Nanami’s which are usually the slightest bit chapped at all times. He can faintly taste the balm that covers your lips, the one you wear on the daily.
Nanami plans on only giving you a peck, but you take the initiative to deepen the kiss when he moves to pull away. You run the tip of your tongue along the seam of Nanami’s lips until he parts them, granting you access to the inside of his mouth. 
You break the heated kiss, leaning in to bestow one more chaste kiss to his lips before maneuvering him away from the stovetop toward the empty marble counter in your kitchen. Your hands move from his hips to descend lower and lower beneath the front of his apron until one rests right over his bulge. Slowly, you start to palm at Nanami’s crotch over his casual pants. “Really good,” you say, voice lowering a few octaves.
His cock begins to stir to life under your light and steady ministrations. When you abruptly pause your movements, Nanami’s dick is already half-erect. You lean in close, crowding Nanami until his hip bones are pressing against the hard edge of the counter, and brush your lips, sticky with chapstick and saliva, over his jawline. The short day-old stubble covering his chin tickles your skin. He angles his head, allowing you to nose along the curve of his neck. You place a palm flat over Nanami’s lower stomach, causing his abdominal muscles to tense reflexively.
“You know, you’d look even better with my kid.”
Your sentence is punctuated with a roll of your hips, and through the layers of your clothing, Nanami can clearly feel the outline of a strap-on. You must have been planning for this, he realizes. His cock twitches at the mental image of you wearing a strap all day long at work, just waiting for the day to hurry up and end already so you could come home to fuck him. The idea is more arousing than Nanami would like to admit.
So is the idea of having your kids.
“You’d like that right, baby? Having my kid?” You smile into Nanami’s neck like you’re aware of exactly what thoughts just came to his mind. He has no doubts you do know, considering how intimately you know one another. 
“Why? Do you intend to give me a child?” Nanami counters, twisting his head back to peer at you. He can now see the smile that’s stretching across your spit-slick lips, one that grows a little more lecherous at the sound of his questions.
“I’d give you anything you want,” you breathily say. Nanami suppresses the shiver that threatens to crawl up his spine. He knows you mean it when you say that. After all, he would give you anything you desired.
You take the lull in conversation as an opportunity to dip your deft fingers beneath the waistband of Nanami’s sweatpants and boxers. In one smooth swoop, you tug both articles of clothing down to pool around the blond’s ankles. Small goosebumps immediately erupt on his legs at the sudden change in temperature.
Nanami’s dick catches on the thin material of his apron before hitting his lower stomach with a wet smack. He’s half-hard, tip dripping pre already when you wrap a warm hand around his length.
“Grab me the lube in the cabinet,” you direct while steadily pumping Nanami’s cock to fullness. 
Kitchen sex is a more common occurrence than one would think. You tend to get pent up and antsy from spending all day at work, which is not helped by the fact that Nanami likes to tease you sometimes. If he’s in the mood to rile you up- which is relatively rare- he’ll send you pictures to keep you occupied in the office. They’re nothing overly scandalous, maybe a snapshot of him in the midst of changing or an image of him wearing your favorite set of joggers, but they’re enough to have you aching for him.
You two now keep lube hidden in one of your cabinets for easy access. It’s convenient, but Nanami has to be the one to remember to move the slender bottle to a more discreet area when you have company over. It was almost a mortifying ordeal when one of your friends started opening up cabinets indiscriminately in search of a glass, nearly opening the one that housed the lube bottle before Nanami redirected their attention to something else.
Nanami reaches over to the side and opens the cabinet closest to where you two are situated. The bottle nearly fumbles out of his grasp when you run a thumb over the tip of his weeping cock where he’s especially sensitive.
“Here, love,” Nanami rasps, handing you the bottle of lube behind his back.
“Thank you, Kento,” you sweetly reply. You grab the plastic container with your free hand and place it down on the counter beside Nanami. You release your hold on Nanami’s fully erect cock to fiddle with your pants. He stands there patiently, listening to the audible click of your belt unfastening as you step out of your work pants. “Bend over for me, baby.”
Nanami is quick, but not so quick as to appear overeager, to heed your request, leaning over the countertop till his chest is pressed to its smooth surface. He supports himself by propping his arms up. He feels a light flush color his pale skin when you curse under your breath. The position is rather compromising. Nanami can only imagine what you can see from your point of view. 
“Kento, have I ever told you what a nice ass you have?” you groan, running your palms over the soft skin before gently massaging the mounds of flesh.
He tosses a look over his shoulder. Your eyes are lidded, attention entirely on Nanami’s backside like you’re entranced. “You tell me nearly every day.”
You meet his gaze seriously. “That’s not enough.”
For a moment, Nanami questions why he married you. Before his thoughts can delve too deeply into the topic, you suddenly pry his cheeks apart. Nanami’s head is still turned towards you, and he can see just how intently you’re looking at his hole. There are figurative hearts forming in your eyes.
“Stop staring,” he murmurs. The blond drops his head down, forehead pressing against the cool surface of the counter to conceal his embarrassment. He enjoys you taking control in the bedroom, or kitchen, but the way you look at him, so attentively, makes heat rise up his neck to color the tips of his ears the sweetest shade of red. It’s a little embarrassing how shameless you are. Although, Nanami can, and does, appreciate how open you are with your feelings and desires.
“Mm, but you’re so cute, Kento,” you tease. The tip of your finger brushes over his hole, and he tightens at the feather-light touch. “God, I can’t wait to put a baby in you,” you groan, leaning over to rest your forehead against the middle of his back.
Nanami lightly chuckles at your antics. 
“Get on with it, then.”
Your fingers tighten around Nanami’s hips, nails digging into the contours of his muscles. “Fuck, you’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” you lowly accuse. You cannot see the slight quirk of Nanami’s lips. Maybe, he is.
You remove your hands from Nanami’s sturdy frame to pluck the translucent bottle of lube off the countertop. You must have grown impatient, he thinks. He hears the quiet click of the cap opening ring throughout the room followed by a wet squirt of the thick lubricant.
The blond tenses up when he feels the cold lube suddenly come into contact with his skin. 
“Sorry,” you apologize- not sounding very sorry at all. It’s not often that you can truly catch Nanami off guard. Nanami only grunts in acknowledgment. 
You rest a light palm against the small of Nanami’s back, and he widens his stance in response- granting you better access for you to operate. He briefly grows rigid when you circle his rim with, now warmed up, lube-covered fingers before releasing an exhale and relaxing into your touch. 
“Relax,” you coo, snaking your hand underneath the frilly apron Nanami still dons and wrapping a loose hand around his cock to distract him from the slight discomfort of you slipping a finger into his hole.
Nanami takes a deep, slightly stuttery, breath. Fuck that feels good. “I am relaxed,” he replies- composed as he always is. His tone betrays none of his inner feelings, or it would not reveal anything if you were a stranger. The low, slightly ragged quality of his voice is not lost on you in the slightest.
“Of course you are, baby,” you hum whilst nosing at the underside of his jaw. His throat bobs when you begin to nip at the fragile skin there.
“Don’t leave too many marks,” Nanami warns, very much aware of your fondness for marking him up. He doesn’t dislike the marks you leave, quite the contrary, but the two of you are full-grown adults: you cannot behave like horny teenagers who would mindlessly cover one another with hickies everywhere.
You don’t reply, choosing to continue your nipping at Nanami’s exposed throat. You won’t leave too many marks: you’re not some sort of animal and you respect your husband enough to abide by his wishes. You’ll leave just enough so the people in your neighborhood will understand that your husband is yours. Their eyes wander far too much for your liking, blatantly checking out Nanami as if the two of you are not married. They’re really not discreet with their flirtations. You wonder if they do it on purpose to tick you off.
You’re brought back to the present when you feel the reverberations of Nanami grunting underneath your lips. His hips buck reflexively in your hold around his cock when you curl your fingers, now up to three, inside of him and prod against his prostate.
“You make such pretty noises, Kento,” you exhale, lips brushing over one of the many dark marks you’ve sucked into his throat. Oops. You might have gotten a little bit carried away, but the hickies will fade quickly enough. 
Loud squelching sounds fill the air of your kitchen as you fuck Nanami on three of your fingers. You’re not necessarily looking to make him cum, not until you have your dick buried inside of him, but he sounds so good that you can’t help but to continue stretching him out with your fingers for longer than necessary.
 Nanami’s not the most vocal partner during sex, which is why every little noise of pleasure he makes, every grunt and groan, goes straight to your core. When you can tell he’s getting close to an orgasm, you take that as an indication to stop.
“Why did you stop?” Slight irritation seeps into Nanami’s voice. If you had continued your ministrations for just a few more moments, Nanami would have orgasmed. To have that stolen away so suddenly is unpleasant, to say the least. The displeasure is apparent on his face as he glances at you over his shoulder.
“Don’t pout, Kento. I just want you to cum on my cock,” you bluntly respond, grabbing the bottle of lube to drizzle it into your open palm. Nanami drops his head back onto the counter as you rub the warmed-up lube all over the dildo you’re wielding. You can be so direct at times that it sends Nanami’s mind spinning.
“Are you ready for me?” Your voice softens as you comfortingly run your slightly sticky palms up and down his sides underneath his t-shirt. The head of your lubed-up plastic cock nudges between Nanami’s cheeks, prodding at his slick entrance. 
The way you can switch from being so lewd to so soft is jarring, but Nanami likes that quality about you. Before you, Nanami was entirely unused to being doted on and praised, but it’s something you do regularly. You like to fuss over Nanami and praise him over anything and everything, especially things that Nanami would not consider to be particularly noteworthy. It’s sweet how in the bedroom, your main priorities are always Nanami’s comfort and pleasure.
“Yes,” he says, giving you a firm nod at the same time.
Nanami sharply inhales when your cock first breaches his hole. “Relax, Kento. I got you,” you coo, feeling your husband tense up beneath you. He lifts his head off the cold countertop and tilts his face your way. You get the message right away, leaning in to press your lips to his to distract him. Slowly, you’re able to begin sinking into Nanami’s tight heat as he relaxes. 
You’re careful, always pausing whenever Nanami’s breath catches and only moving when he gives you his quiet assent again. When you finally bury yourself to the hilt inside of him, you still your hips completely, allowing Nanami time to get accustomed to your size.
You separate your lips from Nanami’s in favor of peppering kisses all over his marked-up neck. You pay special attention to the reddened areas, lightly nipping at them once more before soothing them with a swirl of your tongue when Nanami grunts in minor discomfort after you bite a spot that’s too tender. You jerk Nanami off at an unhurried pace as you wait for him to give you the okay to start moving.
After a few deep breaths, Nanami says “You can move now, love.”
“Okay, baby,” you reply, placing another quick kiss to the junction of his shoulder and neck. You let go of his cock to settle both of your hands around the curve of his hips. Your thumbs dimple the strong muscles of his ass.
Nanami feels like the air has been stolen right from his lungs when you pull out nearly all the way just to slam your cock back in completely. The pace you set isn’t rough necessarily, but your thrusts are forceful and deep. Each movement of your hips knocks Nanami’s against the edge of the countertop, only protected by your fingers wrapped around his hip bones. His propped forearms supporting the weight of his upper body falter when you change your angle the slightest amount to hit his prostate head-on.
“Shit,” Nanami curses under his breath. The stimulation feels good, and Nanami can feel himself getting closer to the edge once more.
You slow down your pace a little and draw Nanami even nearer before slipping your hands underneath his cute, cheesy apron. You slide a hand around his weeping cock- dripping precum and slathered in lube. His shirt rides up as you place your other hand on his bare lower stomach, splaying your fingers over his firm abdominal muscles.
“You’re so good for me, Kento. So fucking good, I’d give you anything you want. You want my kids? I’ll fuck a baby into you,” you babble, pressing your hand down over his stomach.
Nanami groans deep in his throat. “Please,” he rasps.
“Please what, baby?” 
You lean in close, pressing your mouth to space right below Nanami’s ear. You know what he’s asking but you want, no you need, to hear him say it. 
His mouth forms a tight crease, it’s embarrassing- almost humiliating- to spell it out, but Nanami’s unable to think very rationally at the moment. All too easily, he succumbs to his desires. His lips part and he utters in a low tone, “Please. I want you to fuck a baby in me.”
You moan straight into his ear at his reply. “Fuck.”
The slapping sound of wet skin against skin fills the air as your slick hand furiously works over Nanami’s cock. Your hips speed up as well, moving almost uncontrollably fast. Nanami’s knees buckle a little bit at the sudden overload of stimulation, but he’s able to maintain his balance by leaning more of his weight over the counter. 
Nanami’s unable to warn you of his impending orgasm with the way he can feel your dick in his throat with how deep your every thrust is. His vision goes spotty as he cums. He cums hard, spilling ropes of white into your palm and against the inside of the apron you gifted him. 
You’re whispering praises into the shell of his ear as you work him through his orgasm, milking him of all the cum stored in his balls. Your hips eventually come to a standstill, and you litter kisses all over Nanami’s skin once more.
When he finally regains his vision and comes down from his orgasm, Nanami twists his upper body and closes his eyes before kissing you.
“I want to have kids,” he murmurs against your lips.
You giggle. 
“I know, Kento.” You run your cleaner hand, the one free of cum, through his hair, tucking the sweaty strands of blond behind his ears. “You think we should finally adopt Yuuji? I mean he’s basically our kid, already.”
Nanami opens his eyes, allowing you to see the fondness that swirls in the depths of his warm brown hues. He hums. “We need to ask for Yuuji’s opinion first, but…”
“But…” you tease. You feel the corners of your husband’s lips turn up.
“I would like that.”
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305 notes · View notes
dreamerstreamer · 8 months ago
Text
Lucky in Love
Pairing: poly!Dream Team x gn!reader
Summary: [Soulmate!AU] It’s one thing to meet your soulmate in a lottery, and another to have more than just one. But when you end up winning Dream’s Minecraft Manhunt raffle, you find your world turning upside down in ways you least expect.
Word Count: 9.9k
A/N: behold, my first commissioned story! this story has been altered from it’s original form so everyone can read it, but the majority of the plot and writing remain the same. i had a lot of fun writing it, and i hope you all like it! <3
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You stumbled into your bedroom with a yelp, your thumb flying across your phone screen to the home button and pressing gently. With a gleam, the time flashed back at you, and your eyes shot wide open.
You were going to be late.
Leaning forward on one leg, you pushed the door behind you shut with your foot, bouncing forward as soon as you heard it click shut. Your eyes swept across the room, your gaze catching on a swath of black cloth sitting at the foot of your bed. With a quirk of your lips, you tugged the shirt off the mattress before turning on your heel. Darting to the other side of the room, you easily settled back into your desk chair and let the shirt drop onto your thighs.
Grabbing your mouse, you moved your cursor to the YouTube bookmark at the top of your screen, your computer screen instantaneously flooding with light. You scrolled over to the left side of your screen, your mouse hovering over a familiar green icon before clicking, a new box popping into view.
Stream starting in 60... 59... 58... 57...
You felt your lungs tighten within your rib cage, your toes curling ever so slightly into the floor. It had been a nerve-wracking month of waiting and pacing, crossing each day off the calendar with an anxious grin. You almost couldn’t believe that the day had finally arrived. Letting out one last breath, you leaned forward, the t-shirt feeling heavy in your lap.
3... 2... 1...
All of a sudden, the screen went dark. Your reflection stared back at you from the dim screen, your excited eyes peering back at yourself with a curious glint. Reaching up, you brush an unkempt lock of hair away from your forehead, just in time for two familiar faces and a lime green icon to appear.
The Dream Team.
“Hey, guys!” Dream said, his voice sounding like a breath of fresh air. “How are you all doing?”
A flurry of hearts flew across the live chat screen, the lines moving by so quickly that you couldn’t tell when one message ended and another started. Practically bouncing in your seat, you couldn’t help the smile that skittered across your cheeks.
“Good,” you whispered aloud to yourself in the quiet of your room. You knew that they couldn’t hear you when you talked like that, that they wouldn’t know you had even replied at all, but it made their streams feel a little more lively nonetheless.
After a brief pause, Dream’s voice filtered through the air once more, just as bright and eager as it was earlier. “Good? I hope the answer is good.”
Your breath hitched in your throat, your heart flipping in your chest as your fingers curled into the shirt in your lap. That sort of thing happened sometimes: a streamer would say something and your verbal response almost made it feel like they were actually holding a conversation, like they were actually with you right now. These sorts of things were always a coincidence, but when everything in your world was connected by fate, sometimes you let yourself be a little hopeful, let yourself imagine that maybe it wasn’t dumb luck—that maybe it actually meant something.
Hell, maybe it meant you could be soulmates.
Soulmates were a tricky thing to think about, really, even if everyone knew they existed and that one day, they would meet theirs. No one could pinpoint when exactly soulmates came to be, but no one rejected their presence either way. It wasn’t like they wanted to, anyways. To have a person who was perfect for you linked to you by the universe—it was no wonder people were more than pleased to discover they weren’t just some old lover’s tale.
But even then, some were skeptics. How would you really know when you had found your soulmate? What if you missed them by accident? For you at least, you already knew what it would feel like. You couldn’t count just how many times you had asked your mother that very question, but you could practically rattle off her words by heart.
“You’ll know exactly when it happens, I promise, sweetie,” she would murmur, stroking your head with a gentle hum and soft eyes. “When you first touch, it feels like... like you’ve been struck by lightning, and you’ll be tingly all over. Something inside you just sort of clicks when you look at them, and you’ll just—you’ll feel it right here.” She tapped her finger over your heart, a wistful expression settling across her face. “It’s... it’s magical, and you’ll never forget that feeling—not for the rest of your life.”
The smile that would tug on your mother’s lips made you all the more hopeful, a heavy yearning settling deep into the crevices of your heart as the years went by. Even now, as you sat watching Sapnap and George bicker with each other while Dream chimed in with a snarky remark, you felt that same fleeting hope rising up in your chest, warm and soft.
Maybe—just maybe—they might be your soulmates.
Not that they actually were, of course. You knew better than to get your hopes too high.
But as you watched Sapnap’s lean a little closer to his camera and listened to George’s breathy laugh, you felt your heart swell the tiniest bit.
Connected by fate or not, these boys were special to you, even if you had never met.
Sapnap blinked as his eyes darted across his monitor, raising his eyebrows with surprise as he let out a short whistle. “Oh, wow, we’re pulling... holy crap—over seven hundred thousand viewers, right now.” You could vaguely hear the scrolling of his mouse, his lips twitching. “Everyone sounds so excited in chat, too.”
George’s eyebrow quirked. “I mean, of course they are. Manhunts are loads of fun—who wouldn’t want to be a part of them?”
Sapnap’s face split into a teasing grin, and he leaned back in his chair. “Ooh, you sure sound cocky, George.”
George blinked once, then scowled. “Wha—shut up, it’s true! Why else would there be so many people here?”
A devilish gleam flickered across Sapnap’s gaze. “To see your pretty face, maybe.”
George’s frown deepened, his eyebrows knitting together into a glower. “Sapnap, you—”
“Look, look,” he cried, wagging his finger at his monitor, “even chat agrees!” His lips curled up into a smirk, mischievous and amused all at once. “You’re not gonna say chat is wrong, are you, Gogy?”
You could have sworn a hint of rose flushed across George’s cheeks as he averted his gaze from his camera, his voice coming out softer than before. “W-Well, I—”
“Boys, boys,” Dream suddenly cut in, George’s words trailing off in an instant. Despite the firmness of his words, there was an amused lilt to his tone, the smile evident in his voice. “You’re both pretty, alright, but can we please move on? I bet everyone’s dying to know who won.”
George opened his mouth, then let out a sigh, shaking his head with a hint of a smile gracing his lips. “You know what, Dream’s right. Let’s move on.”
Sapnap snickered on his side of the screen, still grinning widely. “You just can’t handle the truth.”
George groaned, deadpanning into the camera. “We are not starting this, again.”
Sapnap smiled, but didn’t get to speak before Dream cut him off. “You’re right,” he said, sounding a tad more hurried than before, “we’re not, because I’ve got the results, right here.”
You suddenly sat up, your heart stuttering. That same spark of hope fluttered up between your lungs, and you found yourself shuffling your chair forward, squinting in anticipation. Curiosity quivered around the edges of your mind, a certain eagerness pawing at your side as you watched a white pop-up fill the stream.
Everybody had an equal chance of winning—you knew that. That everyone may include you, but it also included every other person who bought one of those shirts. It didn’t take a genius to know that you weren't going to win. After all, not everything was guaranteed like having a soulmate was.
“And,” Dream began, dramatic and slow, “our winner is...”
You squeezed your hands, clasping your palms together with a feeling you couldn’t quite name.
“...shirt number 267815!”
You blinked, your brows furrowing together. That number sounded... oddly familiar. Your eyes flickered down to the shirt in your lap, the white tag peeking back up at you.
It couldn’t be.
All of a sudden, Dream’s voice rang through the air once more, sounding even clearer than ever before.
“Oh, and the name connected to the shirt is... [Y/N]!”
Your heart came to a screeching halt in your chest, your eyes shooting wide open as your jaw dropped.
I... won?
You gaped at your screen, only half-registering the sight of Sapnap and George clapping. The chat had become a blur of words you couldn’t bring yourself to read, your vision growing hazy and unfocused with shock. I must look crazy right now, you thought to yourself distantly, rubbing at your face. This can’t be real.
George’s gaze locked directly onto the camera, and for a second, it almost felt like he was speaking directly to you. “Congratulations, [Y/N]!” He wrinkled his nose with an apologetic smile. “I hope I’m saying that, right. If I’m wrong, please tell me.”
Sapnap chuckled, shooting him a devious grin. “Knowing George, he’s probably wrong.”
Your lips twitched at the frown that flitted across George’s face before Dream took over again. “Ignore them—they’re being dumb.” Before either of them could protest, he quickly added, “Anyways, welcome to Minecraft Manhunt! We’re looking forward to meeting you. We’ll send you an email soon, and you can give us some more info there.”
You nodded at your monitor, your lips still parted in surprise. “We’ll be ending the stream now,” Dream continued, “but thanks so much for everyone else who participated. Your love and support mean the world to us!”
You could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke, and it sent a rush of warmth shooting down your spine. “[Y/N],” he murmured, suddenly sounding soft, “we’ll see you soon.”
As George and Sapnap waved one last time at their cameras with excited grins, you swallowed. Your heart rattled in your chest as the screen faded back to black, and you found yourself sitting face-to-face with your reflection once more.
You were right—you looked just as dumbfounded as you felt.
Slowly, you closed your mouth, lowering your gaze to the shirt in your lap. The axe that was laid out across your thighs somehow seemed brighter than it did before, almost as if someone had painted over it with a newer, shinier layer of white.
Lifting the shirt to your chest, you felt a wide grin tug at your lips—wider than any grin you had ever smiled before.
Maybe you were luckier than you thought.
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Your finger hovered over the left button of your mouse, your breaths coming out shaky and short as they pumped through your lungs. The Discord call already had three icons waiting for you, and all you had to do was click to join them.
Breathe, [Y/N]. You’re only about to talk to three of your favourite content creators on the planet. It’ll be easy.
You paused, listening to the sound of your heartbeat thumping in your ears.
Oh, who am I kidding? I’m not fooling anyone.
A groan rose in the back of your throat, and you hung your head in your hands for a long moment. “C’mon,” you whispered to yourself. “You can’t keep them waiting forever.”
You sucked on the inside of your cheek, then lifted your head, nodding once, then twice. Yes, okay—calm. I can be calm. Your finger twitched. Let’s do this.
Your hand reached back for your mouse, the cool plastic melding against your skin as your cursor hovered back over the call. Squeezing your eyes shut for just a second, you let your finger press down, a familiar ping echoing through your headphones. There was a beat of silence. Then, someone spoke.
“Hi! Hello!”
You jumped at that sound of Dream’s voice, your heart skipping a beat as you quickly reoriented yourself again. “H-Hi, there,” you said as calmly as you could muster.
“It’s nice to meet you, [Y/N]! I’m Dream.” There was a slight pause, then he added hesitantly, “Did I say that right, by the way? Your name, I mean.”
Your lips curled up into a smile, and you felt the tension seep out of your shoulders. “Yes, you got it right.”
You could almost imagine him grinning to himself triumphantly. “Perfect.”
A new voice suddenly jumped in, just as eager as Dream’s. “Don’t steal the spotlight already, Dream,” Sapnap whined, his icon flashing green. “There’s three of us, not just you.” Ignoring Dream’s quiet apology, he quickly moved on. “I’m Sapnap—it’s great to have you here.”
“And I’m George,” another voice added, his prominent accent sounding like honey in your ears.
Every ounce of anxiety you had been feeling earlier felt so far away now, their voices carrying your worries off over the horizon. “It’s nice to meet you all, too. My name’s [Y/N], but you already know who I am, don’t you?”
“Well,” George said, drawing out the vowel, “we may know a few things about you, but we don’t really know who you are—that’s something we want to hear from you.”
Sapnap made a noise of confirmation, his mouth moving at lightning speed as he suddenly began to fire off question after question. “Yeah, like, what’s your favourite flower? Or season? Which one of us do you think is the most handsome? Ooh, what about—”
“Woah, woah,” Dream cut in, wheezing ever so slightly, “one thing at a time, to start. Let them breathe, at least!”
You couldn’t help but laugh at the hints of laughter tinting his voice. “It’s okay!” you said, your lips splitting into a crooked grin. “Although I don’t know if I can answer those questions.”
George let out a confused noise. “No? Why not?”
You hummed, swinging your legs around your chair. “Like for my favourite flower, I think they’re all really pretty and look nice, in their own little ways. Same thing for seasons.” You chuckled. “I’m too indecisive to pick just one.”
“But who do you think is the most handsome out of the three of us?” Sapnap prodded, excitement seeping into his tone. “It’s definitely me, right? Come on.”
“Hey,” George suddenly quipped, rushing through his words, “no flirting yet! We only just met!”
There was a brief second of silence. “I mean, isn’t that technically the best time to start flirting?”
“Sapnap.”
“Fine,” Sapnap sighed. You could practically hear him roll his eyes. “Friends first, flirting later.” You were about to breathe a sigh of relief when he added, “Carry on, though. I still want to hear your answer.”
Chewing on your lip, you stiffened, drumming your fingers against the side of your keyboard. “I’m telling you,” you sighed after a long moment, “I really don’t think I can pick. As a matter of fact,” you pointed out, raising a finger. “I don’t even know what one of you looks like.”
Now, it was Dream’s turn to speak up. “Then, talk about attractiveness, in general. It doesn’t just have to be about looks.”
You froze, your posture going rigid. Attractiveness in general…?
How could you possibly encapsulate their attractiveness just like that? Dream was so incredibly clever, and you loved to hear him talk about his passions. George was smarter than he let on, and you could see it in the way he coded their videos, working relentlessly to make them work. Sapnap was beyond affectionate, and just hearing him share his affection with those around him made your stomach melt. They were just handing you a recipe for disaster with a question like this, you knew it.
“This question is impossible,” you blurted, a gentle panic seeping into your tone. Narrowing your eyes, you leaned closer to your mic, adding with a teasing lilt, “Are you trying to torture me?”
“Maybe we are, maybe we aren’t,” Dream hummed, chuckling at the small whine that escaped your lips. “Either way, it’s cute to hear you struggle.”
Your breath suddenly hitched in your throat, but Sapnap was quick to leap forward. “Hey, what did we say about no flirting?”
Another beat of silence. “Killjoy.”
“Okay, moving on from that,” George said, quickly diverting topics, “how are you feeling, [Y/N]? Are you looking forward to the manhunt?”
You looked back at the call, your eyes locking onto the three Discord icons sitting next to your own. “Yes,” you admitted, “but I’m also very, very nervous.”
“Nervous?” Dream repeated slowly.
“Nervous,” you said again, “but a good kind of nervous.” You opened your mouth, then closed it. “Actually, I think excited is a better word to use. You guys always just seem like you have so much fun when you’re around each other, and I’m just...” You waved your hands in front of yourself, feeling your heart beat faster and faster while your face grew hot once more. “I’m just really excited to film with you all and play Minecraft together.”
Silence washed over the call, and your cheeks felt like they were about to burn right off your face. “Sorry,” you mumbled embarrassedly. “That—that probably sounds really dumb.”
“It doesn’t,” Sapnap said suddenly, making your gaze grow wide, “not at all.”
“Yeah,” George added with a joyful hum. “I dunno about those two, but I’m also excited to play with you, [Y/N].”
Dream guffawed, a scoff escaping his lips. “What do you mean you don’t know about us? Of course we’re excited! [Y/N] is great!”
You nearly fell out of your chair. “H-Huh?”
Dream’s voice was suddenly soft again, both parts soothing and cheerful all at once. “We might have only known each other for a little while, but I’m telling you, we’re beyond happy to have you here, and we want you to have a good time, too.”
“Oh, a thousand percent,” George said straight-facedly into his mic. “I’d trade you for both of these nerds in a heartbeat.”
Just like that, Sapnap was yelling as you heard Dream smack his desk. “George, what?! How could you say that?”
Giggling, you sank into your desk chair with a relieved smile, pressing a hand over your eager heart. “Thank you,” you murmured, only hoping they could hear the sincerity in your words. “I hope I don’t let you guys down.”
Their raucous bickering suddenly died down at the softness in your tone, and three voices spoke at the same time—each one sounding more honest than the last.
“You could never.”
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You leaned forward in your desk chair, your eyes glued to your screen as you watched Dream’s avatar stand as still as a rock, frozen and entirely unmoving. Your finger hovered over your W key, waiting for the perfect moment to strike as your tongue darted out to flick over your bottom lip.
Manhunts may be stressful, but you were more than ready to tackle this one headfirst.
It happened so quickly that you nearly missed it. In one moment, Dream was standing in front of you, stock still as you stared him down. In the next, he was darting off in the opposite direction, already a whopping ten blocks away.
Sapnap’s voice shot through your headset like a bullet as he shouted, “After him!”
He didn’t need to say it again before the group was already dashing across the grassy field, boosting each other forward every other block. You clicked frantically at George’s backside, your lips twitching in glee as he shot the slightest bit closer to Dream. With each passing second, they ran further and further, Dream lying just a few steps out of reach. All of a sudden, he leapt off the side of a cliff, vanishing from sight in an instant. Coming to a screeching halt atop the hill, you watched as Bad peered over the forest, Sapnap and George hot on his heels.
“Where’d he go?” George muttered, confusion clouding his voice.
You shifted your mouse left and right as your gaze darted across your screen, scanning every pixel for even the tiniest hint of neon green. Just then, a gasp flew from your lips, and you caught Sapnap jolting in your direction at the sound.
“Look!” you cried, clicking to point over at the greenery. “He’s on the right—on top of the trees!”
Without missing a beat, everyone was leaping off the hill and barreling across the trees, ignoring their fall damage as they jumped over small gaps. “What is he,” George grumbled under his breath, “a monkey?”
You let out a tiny giggle at the genuine annoyance in his tone, but didn’t stop chasing after Dream’s running figure. Suddenly, he just barely missed his jump, bouncing twice on the same leaf block. He had only stalled for a brief second, but that was more than enough time for you to spam click your mouse. In a flash, Dream was tumbling off the tree, with you trailing right after him.
“I hit him off!” you shouted in glee, elation making every one of your syllables soar in your throat. “He’s on the ground.”
“Nice one, [Y/N]!” Sapnap chuckled with delight. “Now, don’t let him get away!”
The praise made the triumphant feeling that had unfurled beneath your ribs spread even farther under your skin, warming you from head to toe. Pushing forward, you nodded and slammed your thumb down on your space bar.
You had no plans of letting him escape.
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You pulled your water bottle from your lips with a gasp, quickly screwing the cap back on before setting it down on your desk. Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you turned back to your monitor, your gaze focused on the anvil a few blocks away. To your left sat the portal, and to your right was a wall of obsidian.
You were four hours into filming now, but you still weren't tired. How could you be, when you were so close to the end?
Clicking on the anvil, you dragged the diamond axe in your inventory into the first slot before reaching for the enchanted book sitting just beside it. Forty-two levels—you would need forty-two levels to enchant your axe with Sharpness IV.
You glanced down at the space above your hotbar and grinned.
Luckily for you, you had forty-three.
Clicking once more, clanging echoed through your ears, and you placed your newly enchanted axe in your hotbar with a proud smile. It was an absolute pain having to kill as many mobs and loot as many desert temples as you did, but for this, it was absolutely worth it. Now, it was time for the rest of the plan.
“I have no idea how you came up with this,” George said earnestly, his character facing yours, “but I love it.”
You grinned, opening up your inventory and removing your amour. “I just got really, really lucky.”
Grabbing an invisibility potion, you suddenly paused, a hint of uneasiness sinking in your gut. If Dream noticed any particles, you would be dead in an instant, and your plan would be blown to smithereens. You would have to move quickly to make it work—almost ridiculously quickly.
Swallowing, you opened your mouth. “Do you guys think we can really pull this thing off?”
Sapnap let out an easygoing chuckle, your shoulders relaxing in an instant. “Oh, I know we can.”
Letting Sapnap’s confidence run through you, you held down your mouse’s right key, downing the invisibility potion in one go before turning to rush out of the portal room. Through your headphones, you heard Dream let out an inquisitive hum, curiosity flickering through his tone. “Just what are you guys up to?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy?” Sapnap fired back without missing a beat, his voice swimming with mischief.
While George let out a wheeze and you giggled at Sapnap’s sharp quip, Dream sighed, muttering, “So much for asking.”
Huffing out one last quiet laugh, the smile fell from your face, your eyes narrowing as your expression grew serious. You moved ever so carefully through the stronghold, weaving in and out of the labyrinthine halls like a snake on the hunt. Your gaze darted back and forth between the compass in your hotbar and your screen. With each sharp swing of the compass hand, you held your breath, turning until it was pointed forward again. You had been searching for a few minutes when suddenly, you spotted it.
A glimpse of green.
Dressed head to toe in enchanted iron armour, Dream’s avatar stood in front of a wall of furnaces, smelting away as he turned from one to the next. On the same wall was a crafting table and a chest. He was planning something, you just knew it, but you didn’t have the time to question what. After all, he was facing the wall opposite from you, completely unaware of your presence.
This was the perfect chance, and you weren’t going to waste it worrying.
Creeping forward, you stopped only when you stood just a single block away from him, switching from your empty hand to the enchanted diamond axe in your hotbar. With Sharpness IV, it would only take three critical hits for you to take him down.
For a second, all was still.
Then, you were pressing down on your space bar and clicking your mouse a half second later, watching with bated breath as Dream’s avatar twitched from your attack. One.
He had barely managed to turn around before you had already landed another hit on him. Two.
By the time he had pulled out his own axe and began scanning the seemingly empty air in front of him, you were slamming your finger down one last time. Three.
With a shout, Dream dropped dead before you, his inventory exploding into a mess on the floor at your feet. You blinked once. Twice.
Then, the call burst into a mess of screams and shouts.
Dream’s yell rang through your ears as George and Sapnap hooted in delight, Bad and Antfrost following with their own victory cheers. “What the heck?!” he cried, shock filling his every word. “[Y/N], was that you? Oh my god, where did you even come from?”
Practically gasping for breath, you nearly collapsed on top of your keyboard, the adrenaline slowly wearing off as you smiled triumphantly to yourself. “[Y/N], you did it!” Sapnap shouted, just as loud as before. “You—you just—holy crap!”
“I was so stressed,” you breathed, sagging against the back of your chair with a breathless laugh. “You have no idea.”
“You were awesome, so awesome,” George managed between giggles, his own voice sounding giddy and positively overjoyed. “I knew you could do it.”
Your cheeks half-felt like they were about to start hurting from how hard you were smiling, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as Dream’s tired laugh filled your ears.
“Congratulations, [Y/N],” he murmured fondly. “You won.”
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Just a week and a half later, you couldn’t believe your eyes as you scrolled through the comments section of the new video.
[y/n] was so funny omg
They made this manhunt feel so much more special
Their chemistry as a group was so good wtf!!!??!
please bring [y/n] back I am in LOVE
[Y/N] SUPREMACY
With each new comment you scrolled past, you felt your heart swell more and more in your chest with a mixture of joy and pride. You didn’t expect people to respond so positively to the video—to you.
You had barely made even a dent in the hordes of comments about you when a Discord notification popped up on your laptop screen. In a flash, you were pulling up Discord, quickly clicking on the appropriately named group chat, [Y/N] KILLED DREAM!!
Sapnap: hey
Sapnap: hey
Sapnap: hey did you read the comments
[Y/N]: i did! people were so positive!!
[Y/N]: i wasn’t expecting it
George: You weren’t?
You furrowed your brows, reading George’s question twice before typing once again.
[Y/N]: of course not??? i’m just some person
[Y/N]: you guys are the dream team
George: Don’t put yourself down like that
Sapnap: yeah everyone liked the video because they liked you
Dream: well then
Dream: how do you feel about coming back to film again?
You stared at your screen in awe, something hopeful and weightless rising in the expanse of your chest. Filming another video? With them?
You didn’t even have to think before your fingers were typing out a response.
[Y/N]: i would love to
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Peals of laughter tumbled from your lips as you rolled over on your bed, your phone perched beside your head on your pillow. A split second later, a loud whine echoed from your phone speaker, and you found yourself laughing even harder, your lungs gasping harder and harder for breath with each giggle that was pulled from your throat.
Never in your wildest dreams would you have guessed that you would be here.
It had been nearly a year since the fateful day that brought you and the Dream Team together and a little over ten months since you had first filmed together. Now, three videos and countless streams later, you were closer than ever before, cracking jokes and pushing each other’s buttons like you had known each other their whole lives—maybe even longer than that. It took some prodding, but you even called Dream by his real name, now. As much as you liked the name Dream, Clay sounded much nicer, in your opinion. Texting daily was practically a sacred ritual now, and you couldn’t remember the last time you didn’t get spammed by their texts at least four times a week. Even now, as you lay on your bed with your phone connected to Discord at your side, you were chatting with them, grinning as wide as ever. It was a comfortably pleasant lull you had fallen into, the four of you—one that you wouldn’t mind spending the rest of your life sinking into.
It was comfortable indeed, but even as complete as you felt now, you felt like there was something missing—like there was a hollow cavern in your chest just waiting to be filled.
Yet another shout suddenly pulled you out of your thoughts, the noise sounding even more astounded than it had before. “How was I supposed to know that that was Russia?”
The sheer amount of shock in George’s voice immediately made you burst into another fit of giggles, throwing your head back. “There was Russian on the sign!” you managed between breaths. “It was so obvious!”
He sputtered at the sound of your laughter, sounding absolutely appalled by your reaction. “You can’t just expect me to be able to read Russian!”
You grinned, your voice dropping the tiniest fraction. “You act as if you don’t know how to say a few things in Russian.”
There was a moment of silence. Then, Sapnap whistled. “Touché, [Y/N]. You’ve got him there.”
While George groaned, surely smacking his palm into his forehead, Clay spoke up with a teasing hum. “You should play some GeoGuessr with us more often. You’re way better at this than George.”
“This is bullying,” came a distant complaint from George, his voice coming out muffled through his mic.
“It’s the truth,” you corrected with a cheeky grin. “You cannot deny that.”
There came a snort, followed by Sapnap’s gentle laugh. “Look at you, [Y/N], being so mean all of a sudden.”
You smiled lopsidedly, trying to push back the shiver that ran down your spine at the way his low voice made your insides melt. “You know you guys love it.”
“We do.” Clay’s voice almost sounded far away, muffled and hazy. “We really, really do.”
Your heart leapt into your throat as a soft silence washed over the four of you, your chuckles dying down and fading into the quietness of your bedroom. Sighing deeply, you picked at your nail, silently begging your heart to calm down again. It was right then when George softly piped up.
“Hey, [Y/N],” he said quietly. When you let out a small noise, he continued. “We… you would call us close to you, right?”
You laughed at the hesitancy in his tone. For a second, he almost sounded shy, and it sent butterflies fluttering through your stomach. “Do you even have to ask? We’ve been friends for months—of course we are!”
You could make out the faint sound of shuffling from Clay’s end, his icon flashing green. “Are—” He coughed. “Does that mean we’re close enough to ask you a… somewhat private question?”
You raised an eyebrow at his tone, your curiosity piquing. “Go for it,” you said gently, letting your eyelids flutter comfortably shut.
“Have you met your soulmate yet?”
In an instant, your eyes shot wide open again, and you lay frozen in your bed. In all the time you had known each other, not once had you brought up the topic of soulmates. It was almost as though you had simply skirted around it, too shy to press on about. But right now, with the topic lying right in front of your face, you couldn’t just avoid the topic.
Your fingers twitched as your mouth fell open. “N-No,” you stammered, the butterflies in your stomach going oddly still. “I, um, I haven’t. Have any of you?”
There was a pause. “No, none of us.”
You thought for a moment, your heart mulling over those four little words. Then, you exhaled and let your shoulders relax against the mattress, your nails curling into your palm. “I’m sure you guys have nothing to worry about,” you murmured almost hazily. “There are probably thousands and thousands of people who would love to be any one of your soulmates.” You chuckled, but it tasted bittersweet on your tongue. “Heck, there’s probably at least half a million fans who would be dying to take my place, right now.”
On the other end of the line, you were met with silence, but it was fleeting. “What about you?” Clay suddenly asked.
You blinked, your palm going slack. “Me?”
“You,” Clay affirmed, sounding more serious than before. “If you were one of our soulmates, how would you feel?”
The words left your lips before you could stop them. “Happy,” you blurted, suddenly feeling breathless. “So, so happy. I—”
You suddenly slapped your hand over your mouth, cutting yourself off with wide eyes. Realization struck you like a lightning bolt, and you could feel your blood run cold in your neck. I did not just say that.
“What—” George stopped. Then, a second later, he continued. “Which one of us would you want it to be? To be your soulmate?”
With trembling fingers, you moved your hand away from your mouth, your voice coming out small. “Are you asking me who I like most?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
You almost felt your heart drop, bolting upright until you were sitting atop your sheets. Wrapping your hand around your phone, you balanced it on your lap, uncertainty springing up in your gut.
Who... I like most?
Dream, George, and Sapnap. Sapnap, Dream, and George.
To think that just a year ago, you had never spoken to them—had only ever known them as three strangers through a screen. Yet here you were now, their voices soft against your ear and your heart aching at the sound of their laughter. They made you smile beyond belief, and you wouldn’t miss a call with them for the world, even if it was three in the morning and you were dead asleep. Although you had spent time with each of them individually, just as friends did, you loved spending time with all three of them together far more, and you didn’t want to imagine having them any other way.
George, Sapnap, and Dream.
Who did you like most?
You swallowed, then opened your mouth. “I,” you choked out, “I don’t—I wouldn’t—”
You stopped, your heart pounding like a drum between your lungs. You could feel them waiting for you, as patient and caring as ever. The thought made you want to curl up into a ball and cry. Screwing your eyes shut, you sucked in a deep breath and whispered.
“I don’t think I could ever pick just one of you.”
The silence that filled the air as you closed your mouth was tense. A million unspoken words ricocheted off the insides of your mind, your heart racing within the confines of your chest. The air suddenly felt too hot, and you kicked the covers off your legs, curling your knees closer to your chest and resting your burning cheeks on top of them.
“Maybe this is a sudden thing to say,” Sapnap whispered abruptly, his words coming out slurred as he broke the silence, “but I really, really want to know what you look like right now, [Y/N].”
You felt your arms go limp around your legs. “Me, too,” George added, thoughtful and faint. “I bet you’re beautiful.”
Resisting the urge to bury your face in your hands, you ran your finger along the edge of your phone screen, the glass pressing against your hot skin. “I—um,” you began shakily, “you’ll see when we meet, okay? This way, two of us can stay a mystery.”
Clay’s soft chuckle rippled through your bedroom once more, bouncing off the walls and making your chest ache even more. “Alright.”
You felt your chest constrict with heat, feeling like you were almost about to burst at the seams from the way they were speaking. “W-Well,” you laughed, trying not to sound as panicked as you felt, “on that note, I think I’m gonna go to sleep now.” You opened your mouth to continue when a yawn cut you off, eliciting a string of laughs from your phone speaker. “I’m feeling pretty tired.”
“Sweet dreams, [Y/N],” George murmured tenderly. “Talk to you tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow,” you confirmed with your heart battering against your ribs. “Goodnight!”
Reaching over, you pressed your thumb over your phone screen, exiting the call just as swiftly as you had joined. That had been hours ago now, and while you were tired, you couldn’t shake the churning sensation in the pit of your stomach—twisting and turning as you laid back on your bed. You slipped your phone onto your nightstand, plugging it in in a forlorn haze before lying back once more. Staring up at the lonesome ceiling, you frowned, your heart suddenly feeling like an anchor in your chest.
Without even an inch of doubt, you knew: you liked them—all three of them.
And it was going to be the end of you.
Having a crush was a dangerous thing in a world full of soulmates, especially if they were online—even more so if you had multiple. You could only ever find out if someone was your soulmate if you met them in person, and you had heard far too many stories of couples meeting in person, only to learn that they weren’t fated to be. Combining that with multiple soulmate bonds slimmed the chances even further. Multiple soulmate bonds weren’t exactly unheard of, but they were rare. You had never met anyone who had one, and you doubted that you would be the first you’d know to have one.
You suddenly felt it—that familiar spark of hope you felt all those months ago when you sat at your desk chair with a shirt on your lap. The hope that drew you to them now was the very same hope that connected you in the first place. Your heart leapt, lapping up every last droplet like a man dying of thirst, yet with each new spark that rained down in your chest, the thought clawing at the back of your mind loomed larger and larger.
Just what exactly were the chances all four of you would be soulmates? It had to be next to nothing if it wasn’t zero already.
This wasn’t like the manhunt raffle—lady luck could only be so generous.
Rolling onto your side, you felt something deep inside you reach its hands up and wrap around your lungs, squeezing as tightly as it could. The ache that shot through your insides stung like a hot coal, but you knew there was nothing you could do to soothe its hungry flames. Unshed tears pricked the back of your eyelids like silver needles, and you squeezed your eyes shut, choking back a muffled whine. Your bedroom suddenly felt too big, your bed too empty.
Hope could be beautiful, but it could also destroy you from the inside out.
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“Do not leave the call.”
Clay’s chuckle sent a frown skittering across your face, and you let out a small whine as you leaned forward in your desk chair. “Aww,” he crooned, teasing and light, “are you jealous, Georgie?”
“N-No, what?” George sputtered, and you could almost envision the way his cheeks would flush a pretty shade of baby pink. “Just—just don’t hang up.”
“I’m telling you,” Sapnap laughed with a sly lilt, his voice sounding a little more distant than Clay’s, “he’s jealous.” You vaguely could make out the sound of his signal light from inside his car, a muffled car horn echoing from outside. “Or at least if he isn’t, [Y/N] is.”
At that, you whipped your head up, blinking wide as you shot a glare at Sapnap’s Discord icon on the side of your monitor screen. “Well, [Y/N]?” Clay drawled, a flicker of mischief dancing in his tone. “What do you have to say about that?”
You curled your fingers into your hands, a small pout settling onto your features as heat shot across your face. “I—I am!” you said, your voice coming out a fraction louder than you intended. When the other line went quiet, you shuffled back in your seat, your cheeks burning even hotter. “I am jealous, okay? It’s... it’s just not fair that you two get to meet before we do.”
There was a brief moment of silence. You were being childish, you knew, but at least you were being honest. Suddenly, Clay spoke. “We know, sweetheart,” he said gently, not at all realizing how your heart skipped a beat at the pet name. “But you’ll be able to meet us soon. Just wait a bit longer, okay? I’ll buy you both plane tickets if I have to.”
You pouted with a dejected whimper, your finger drawing small circles onto the side of your desk. “Okay.”
“Don’t sound so sad,” Sapnap chuckled with a soothing coo. “As soon as we can get you two over here, we will.”
You let out a sigh, swinging your chair from side to side with a frown. Was it so wrong of you to want to meet them so badly, to want to see them and hug them? Part of you didn’t even care if you were all soulmates at this point—you just wanted to hear them laugh in person. You wanted to make them smile. Was that really so much to ask for?
“I see him!” Clay suddenly shouted. Your head shot up faster than a bullet, and you heard the sound of a front door opening and slamming shut. “Oh, Sapnap.”
“Oh, Dream,” Sapnap called mockingly, his smile shining through in his voice. There was the sound of the car engine stopping, then a car door swinging open. “Holy crap, you’re way taller than I expected.”
You chuckled at the surprise in Sapnap’s voice, hearing George laugh along with you. “Jeez,” Clay muttered, his voice overlapping ever so slightly with the mic on Sapnap’s phone. “It’s so weird actually seeing you in person, oh my go—”
All of a sudden, Clay went silent, cutting himself off with a strangled noise of surprise. On Sapnap’s end, there was a muffled choking sound, then nothing. In a flash, you were upright, your eyes wide and your hand flying to your mouse.
“Sapnap?” George called, his tone soaked with worry. “Clay? Are you two alright?”
There came a gasp, and you could make out the sound of Sapnap struggling to search for words. “You’re—Clay’s my—”
Just like that, it clicked, like a switch had been flipped inside you. You felt something in your chest deflate, and you opened your mouth.
“Soulmates,” you whispered so quietly that you would have missed it yourself, had you not been the one to say it. “You two are soulmates, aren’t you?”
George fell silent. “I think so,” Clay mumbled, his tone coming out as if he were in a daze. “I’ve never felt anything like that before in my life—it definitely feels like what everyone says, you know? Just, really warm, and.... and...” He trailed off, ending with an enamoured sigh. “Yeah.”
Your mouth felt as though it had been sewn shut, like you wouldn’t have been able to force the words from your lips even if you tried. “How did we not know after all these years?” Sapnap giggled, his voice swimming in a mixture of disbelief and affection.
“We’ve never met in person up until now,” Clay mused, his sentence rising at the end. “This is the first time we’ve ever seen each other, let alone touched.”
“It is, isn’t it?” Sapnap murmured back wistfully. The call suddenly went quiet, and a deep, disappointed quiet fell over the four of you. Not a word was said as the harsh reality slowly settled into your hearts.
Clay and Sapnap were soulmates.
Only Clay and Sapnap.
“I’m happy for you two!” George suddenly shouted, startling you in your chair. He sounded oddly chipper—too chipper. “I wish—” He suddenly choked, pausing for a moment to catch his breath again. “I wish I was already friends with my soulmate. Meeting new people is hard.”
“Who knows?” Clay chuckled. His words were teasing, but even they couldn’t mask how crestfallen he sounded. “Maybe [Y/N] is yours.”
“Yeah,” Sapnap hummed in agreement, the hopefulness in his voice sounding just as forced as his soulmate’s. “You hear that, [Y/N]? Maybe you and Gogy were meant to be.”
Your vision was hazy and unfocused, your gaze focused on the window in your room. In the corner of the glass was a small spider web, just barely the size of your palm. You watched with blurry eyes as a fly caught in the sticky web beat its wings in desperation, struggling helplessly as a spider crawled out from behind the windowsill. You distantly wondered how trapped that fly felt—if it knew that there was no point in hoping for anything better, now.
Turning away from the window, you focused your gaze down at yourself, down at the black shirt you were wearing. A clean white axe stared back up at you, and you felt a bittersweet smile stretch across your face as you uttered a single word.
“Maybe.”
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A loud beep echoed from the ceiling speakers, and you jumped at the sound. All around you, people were bustling in and out of gates, towing luggage behind them as they rushed down the crowded pathways and between loitering groups of people. You whipped your head this way and that at the sight, your head spinning with all the new sights and sounds.
It was still hard to believe that just a few months prior, you wouldn’t have been able to step foot in an airport like this.
To see people move from one place to the next, seeing loved ones and meeting new people for the first time was almost exhilarating, especially after all that had happened with the world. You liked it, and you certainly hoped that it was here to stay.
You had just started walking down the main path when you felt your phone ring in your pocket. Fishing it out, your face lit up at the caller ID, and you picked up without waiting another second, pressing the cool glass to your ear with a smile. “Hi, George.”
“Hey!” he greeted with a cheerful tone. “Did you get here safely?”
Rocking back and forth on your heels, you curled your fingers a little tighter around the handle of your suitcase with a hum. “Yep.”
“Good.” You could hear the smile in his voice, and it sent a familiar tingle of warmth bouncing down your spine. “How are you feeling?”
You paused, your steps faltering for a brief second as you pondered. “Nervous,” you said after a moment or two, “but a good kind of nervous.”
“A good kind of nervous?” he repeated with a fond tone. “I think I know the word you’re looking for.”
Your lips curled up at his words, your mind flashing back to a distant day from long, long ago. “Yes, George, I’m excited.”
The laugh that fell from his lips sounded like pure music to your ears, and you caught yourself thinking that you wouldn’t mind drowning in the sound. “Me, too.” As you wove between a few sectioned off groups, George added gently, “You know where to meet us, right?”
You nodded with a small noise of confirmation, making a sharp turn down yet another long hallway. “Yeah—I’m pretty sure Clay and Sap are already waiting for us.”
George snorted, both affectionate and teasing at once. “Oh, I know they are. I’ll see you there?”
You grinned, bobbing your head along to the beat of your suitcase wheels rolling across the polished tiled floors. “For sure. See you there!”
Lowering your phone from your ear, you pressed your thumb against the screen before letting it drop into your pocket once more. A sigh escaped your lips as you let the ache you had been suppressing tumble loose, throbbing and gnawing away at the shaky shards of your heart.
How long had they known that Clay and Sapnap were soulmates, now? Five months? Six? You weren’t sure if you could even bring yourself to keep count, anymore. It hurt too much to think about. You were happy for them, you really were. But the selfish part inside you still longed for their touch, even if they wouldn’t ever truly be yours. It wasn’t that you didn’t like George, but you meant what you said—you couldn’t pick just one, and you wanted all of them, as greedy as it was.
Shaking your head, you pushed forward, your gaze darting up to the navigational sign hanging from the ceiling. No matter how painful it may be, you weren’t going to let your own heart get in the way of how amazing today was going to be. You were meeting your favourite people in the world today, and nothing was going to take that away from you.
Not even heartbreak.
Glancing briefly over at a map on the wall, you huffed as you dragged your suitcase up a set of stairs and through the corridor, chewing on the inside of your lip. George’s gate was on the opposite side of the airport from yours, and Clay and Sapnap were waiting in the middle for the two of you. His flight had arrived a bit before yours, so you knew you were just going to have to find all three of them together.
After another few minutes of walking, you found yourself walking into the central dome of the airport, the glass ceiling filtering natural light into the room as you wheeled your luggage in. Your lips parting in awe at the sight, you swept your gaze across the busy room, scanning over every head you could find. You had only been looking for a few moments when a head of dark sepia hair caught your attention. Narrowing your eyes, you shuffled forward carefully. Then, your lips split into a triumphant grin.
There they were.
In a heartbeat, you felt your insides melt at the sight. Sapnap and George looked as handsome as ever, their lips curled up into dazzling smiles as they spoke, and Clay—oh, Clay. This was the first time you would ever be seeing each other’s faces, but you didn’t have to see him to know that he was pretty. With tousled golden locks and emerald green eyes that flashed like gemstones, he was everything you could have asked for and more.
Chatting casually with one another, all three of them were dressed in comfortable clothes, and you wanted to fling yourself at them and bury yourself into their warm touch. Sucking in a deep breath, you marched toward them, slinking around so that you were facing their backs. Hugs could come later—right now, it was time for a surprise.
Treading slowly and carefully, you only stopped when you stood a foot behind them, the giddiness rising in your chest as you finally opened your mouth.
“Sapnap was right. You are tall.”
The three of them immediately whirled at the sound of your voice, their eyes as wide as saucers as their gazes locked on yours. The grin on your face only grew wider as you watched their faces light up in unison, like a set of stars coming together in the night sky.
“[Y/N],” they said at the same time, blinking wildly as you sent them a small wave.
You laughed. “Here I a—”
“We were right, too,” Clay suddenly blurted, bending over slightly. “You are beautiful.”
Your cheeks flushed with bubbling heat, and you felt your heart leap in your chest. “I—ah, um,” you stammered, taking a step back. “You look good too, Clay.”
Sapnap took a step forward, reaching his hand out toward you with a soft smile. “So, we finally meet,” he hummed, a brilliant gleam flashing across his eye. “Does this mean I get to hug you, now?”
You grinned, and with a giggle, you were leaping forward, your suitcase wobbling behind you as you let go. The moment you felt warm arms wrap around your backside, you felt yourself relax.
Then, your skin suddenly felt like it was on fire.
Warmth surged up your spine like a rippling flame, your eyes shooting wide open as you gasped, your fingers curling into the soft fabric of Sapnap’s shirt. In an instant, you were stumbling back, clutching at the space over your heart. You could feel it going absolutely haywire in your chest, pounding like never before. Your entire body felt as light as a feather, and your mind felt strangely hazy.
Impossible—it had to be.
“Sap,” you choked out, your eyes locking onto his own wide ones, “you—”
“George, Clay,” he suddenly said, reaching a hand out toward the two boys, “get over here. Right now.”
The two of them had been standing stock still just a few steps away, their jaws dropped and faces contorted with surprise as they watched you and Sapnap tremble across from one another. Swallowing, George took the first shaky step forward, reaching his hand toward yours. The moment your fingers brushed, the same tingling warmth crashed over you like a wave, and you let out a soft noise, happiness blooming in your throat like a blossom in spring. You watched with earnest eyes as George’s expression mirrored yours, his rosy lips parted in surprise as his fingers latched onto yours. The hope you had locked away months ago came pouring out of your glowing heart like a waterfall, overwhelming every inch of your senses.
“It’s not just us,” you whispered, your voice brimming with nebulous hope. “It’s George, too.”
George lifted his head, his breath hitched as he turned. “That just means...”
All three of your gazes landed on Clay, who was still frozen in place, stock still with shock. Your eyes darted to Sapnap’s, then George’s. You nodded in unison, and without saying a word, you stepped forward. You slipped your hand into Sapnap’s, your heart trembling with adoration at how big and warm his palm was against your own. Sharing one last glance with one another, you nodded. Just like that, you were slipping your hand into Clay’s, George following suit while Sapnap grabbed his.
In a heartbeat, everything felt perfect.
The empty cracks in your heart no longer felt as wide as they once did, instead flooding with burning warmth and something that felt like love. Your head spun with dizzying affection, and you felt your vision grow watery, but for an entirely different reason, now.
God, you loved them, you loved them, you loved them.
At your side, Sapnap’s hand shook in yours, surprise lacing his every word. “I can’t believe it.”
“A four-way soulmate bond,” George breathed, his own mouth twitching up into a lovestruck grin. “I—I never thought we’d have one. I mean, I always hoped but—”
Suddenly, Clay spoke up, his voice hoarse but full of sincerity. “W-Woah, are you crying? What’s wrong?”
In a flash, their eyes were on you, who had let go of Clay’s hand to press your palm against your eye. “N-Nothing’s wrong,” you said, your voice shaking with overwhelming emotion. “I’m just—I’m so happy.” A quiet sniffle bubbled up in your throat, but it didn’t stop the smile from tugging at your lips. “I liked you all so much and I was so scared that only George was going to be my soulmate, because you’re all so important to me, and I couldn’t just give you guys up like that.”
“[Y/N],” Clay choked out, his own voice starting to wobble, “stop, please. You’re going to make me cry.”
Laughing, you leaned against him, soaking into the warmth of his body as his arm instinctively wrapped around you. “Just—just cry with me, okay? We can all cry together.”
You didn’t need to say it twice. Not even a split second later, and you felt two more pairs of arms snake up around you, a nose burying itself into your hair as a cheek pressed against yours. “It looks like you won more than just one lottery then, huh?” Sapnap mumbled from above you, his chest rumbling against your back.
“Yeah,” George chuckled, his fingers lovingly rubbing small circles against your arm. “First the manhunt, now this. Just how lucky can one person be?”
You smiled, rubbing your head against Clay’s shoulder with a loving hum. “I don’t know what the universe was thinking,” you murmured, your eyelids fluttering shut as you gently rocked back and forth together, “but I’m glad I won. You three are the best prize I could have ever asked for.”
You felt a pair of lips press a soft kiss to the top of your head, your heart sighing in your chest. “I love you,” someone whispered, too softly for you to tell who it was.
All around you, the bustling airport kept moving, full of life and bursting with energy as the crowds flowed around you like a river. The world was still moving, the planet still turning beneath your feet as you embraced one another, warm and safe in each other’s arms. But in that moment, none of that mattered. A dazzling spark danced along the crevice of your heart, bright and warm and oh-so full of hope as you opened your mouth to whisper back.
“I love you all, too.”
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shinramyeonz · 3 months ago
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sub-stitute | lee heeseung
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requested by @hhee-coree
pairing: substitute teacher!heeseung x student!female reader
genre: smut
warnings: heeseung is a hard dom (as requested), a shit ton of degradation, spanking, semi-public sex, fingering (female receiving), dom and sub themes
a/n: wrote this as i write the second chapter of my series lawl. anyways, i made a lil plot twist... 👀 i hope you like this!
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"god, it's been thirty minutes." you grumble, taking a peek at the wristwatch under your sleeve. "isn't professor park supposed to be here by now?"
"indeed, he should be here." your best friend, jiyoon, pipes from beside you, blowing a raspberry in unamusement. "he made us read all of the shit in the book and now he's not coming?"
"i'm about to throw hands." you deadpan.
another dreaded wednesday afternoon has come, and it's always hell for your class. wednesdays meant long-ass discussions with the mentioned professor above, his sleepy voice making all of you doze in your desks. not to mention his pettiness showing in oral exams when he asks questions that are out of his given coverage to study. sometimes, you just want to disappear for that particular day of the week and just yeet it out of the calendar.
all the things you've tried to study in a day? wasted.
sighing, you place your makeup pouch on your desk, laying your head on it in an attempt to take a nap. suddenly, the door opens.
welp, i guess my cramming wasn't wasted after all.
you straighten up, hurriedly jamming the makeup pouch in your bag in fears of getting sent to the principal's office.
the whole class stands up, including you. from the door comes a tall man, sauntering towards the teacher's table. his fringe cover his eyes, so you couldn't take a clear look at his face. however, judging by his mannerisms, you'd say he's pretty much your age. why is he suddenly sitting on the chair, then? you slightly scowl, subtle enough for him to see.
the room is silent as the man puts his book down, sweeping his hair instinctively which caused the girls to giggle rather suggestively. his face is now in clear view, and damn, he was pretty good-looking to be a professor. your eyes widen.
"good afternoon, everyone." he speaks firmly, roaming his eyes all over the students standing in front of him. some of the female students were trying to hold back their smiles, and others paid no attention. the boys? whispering to themselves as usual. "professor park apologizes for informing you on such short notice that he won't be around today."
you blink. he's a substitute teacher. cool. you find yourself staring at him silently as he speaks, holding back a sigh at how his fit looked so alluring. he wore a white button-down with sleeves rolled, tucked into neat black slacks.
"my name is lee heeseung, and i'm the assigned substitute teacher to supervise this class for the time being." he proceeds. you all bow at him, which he does as well. "you may now sit down." you all oblige.
the class goes as usual—heeseung follows the directions given to him by the professor, and the oral exam commences. normally, you'd find yourself in a state of panic whenever such instances came, but somehow you felt confident in heeseung's presence.
was it because he's not a middle-aged man who goes around undermining students' mental capacities through remarks that were uncalled for?
"miss y/n, can you please stand up and answer this question for us?"
your ears perk up at the mention of your name, sheepishly standing up from your seat. heeseung looks at you with anticipation as he checks your class list. "you have pretty high marks. are you ready for your question?"
"yes, sir."
the way those two words came out of your mouth made him stop in his tracks. the phrase played in his mind like a broken record, his thoughts bringing him to a trance. he doesn't know why, but it's something that he'd want to hear again, but in another setting, another time. should i keep an eye on her?
"the question, sir?" you ask, noticing how heeseung was silent for a whole minute. he nods.
"name the three kingdoms of korea."
the rest of the class grumbles, complaining about how you got the easiest question in the coverage. some of them even gave you looks that you'd describe as plain petty. not giving it much thought, you stare into the teacher's eyes, a confident grin in your face.
"sir, the three kingdoms of korea are namely: goguryeo, silla, and baekje."
"that's correct." he nods, grabbing the pen stuck behind his ear and writing a check mark next to your name. he glances at you one last time, taking his time to look at your face features. out of all the female students in the room, you were the one who stood out the most to him. not only did you have a pretty face and a good physique, you're also the top student in the class. he motions you to sit down.
"anyways, miss, i need you in the sixth floor faculty room after this period." he adds, sending you into a state of uneasiness.
you raised your eyebrows, trying not to scowl. "may i ask what's it for, sir?"
damn it, she needs to stop calling me 'sir'. "professor park sent me a bunch of papers to check in there. i just need a hand." he replies, fixing his collar and trying to keep his cool. "am i clear?"
you nod. "yes, sir—"
"mr. lee." he corrects with a purse in his lips.
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you stand in front of door of the the faculty room heeseung apparently needs you to be in, knocking three times as your breath hitches in slight nervousness. shortly, the door opens, revealing the lad. without a word, you enter the room on his signal, closing the door behind you.
"mr. lee—"
"drop the formalities." heeseung's voice was deep, shaking you to the bone as he gives you a rather cold stare. he saunters to the empty table, sitting on his edge with his legs wide apart. "it's just you and me now."
you observe your surroundings quickly as he speak. the room was fairly small, with a stack of books here and there. a fan stands on one corner, along with some trophies kept on a glass-paned shelf. you assumed this was professor park's office, judging by the vase of lilies on top of the shelf. the blinds were down and the door was already locked before you knew it, the ceiling light illuminating the small rooms.
"why so, mr. lee?" you whisper, placing your backpack on an empty stool beside the door.
heeseung chuckles. "y/n, baby. we're engaged."
"right..." you trail off, rolling your eyes at him. "and you of all people should know where my classes are. you're a professor here, my goodness."
the two of you got engaged in a relatively young age, fortunately, with your parents' approval. according to them, five years were too long to stay as "boyfriend and girlfriend", thus driving heeseung to pop the question at twenty.
he stands up and places his hands on your waist. "you're beautiful, you know that?"
you look up at him as your foreheads touch. "i can see how much you liked being called 'sir'." you giggle, loosening your tie and unbuttoning your uniform. "is that why you were spacing out earlier?"
he hitches a breath at the sight of your white lace bra, his temperature going up despite the air conditioned room. "that's also why i called you over."
you press your lips against his, finding the spot in between his lips so you can push your tongue inside it. he smiles, returning the kiss rather harshly as his tongue clashed with yours. you slightly whimper as he sucks on your tongue, your hands now tied up with your uniform thigh, thanks to his quick hands.
he pulls away. "little slut keeps seducing me in the wrongest times." he spits out, laying you down on the table he just sat on earlier. "such a bad girl wanting to be punished, huh?"
"yes, sir." you said in a breathy tone, making his cock twitch beneath his slacks.
heeseung yanks your panties down beneath your skirt, his middle finger finding itself against your clit. you gasp as he rubs it harshly, his stare piercing you like daggers. you feel your legs shake at his ministrations, placing your tied up hands over your mouth to suppress the lewd moans.
your bra was the next item to be yanked down, and he immediately slaps your breasts, the slight bounce turning him on. "did i tell you to hold the moans back, you slut?"
"n-no, sir." you whimper, putting your hands above your head as he sucks on your stomach. you moan again.
"that's right. let everyone in this campus hear who you belong too, hmm?" heeseung snickers, pushing three fingers inside your pussy.
his words send shivers to your body, clenching your thighs together as his fingers move in a quick pace. with this, he pulls them out, harshly flips you over, landing a spank on each of your ass cheek. he grins, satisfied with the pinkish print his palms left on them. you wince at the pain, toes curling underneath your shoes as he leaves more hickeys on you.
"fuck, sir!" you moan out as his teeth sink on your flesh, only for your clit to be slapped with a rigid item that you assumed to be a ruler.
"who says you can curse, huh?" heeseung grunts, spanking you again, but with the ruler. you squeal, hearing the whipping sound it made as it lands on your ass. "why are you so stubborn, huh?"
he curses under his breath, pulling his slacks and boxers down to free his cock from its restraints. without a word, he pushes his hard length inside you in a quick motion.
you almost scream at the sudden stretch, nails digging in your palms as the fabric of your tie chafed the skin of your wrists. you immediately feel him hit your sweet spot as he thrusts inside you, him not ceasing to give you welts with the ruler.
"god, you look so beautiful with my marks all over you..." he grunts, hand propped up the table as he picks up his pace. "... bent over for me like this. all these welts in your ass are something else. so fucking good."
"sir..." you cry out as he chokes you from behind, making you lightheaded. the only thing you knew is how harshly you shook under his touch, the thought of people suddenly knocking on the door not crossing your mind a bit. "you feel so good."
"trying to get praises from sir now, eh?" he cackles, throwing the ruler aside and gripping your hips. "good try."
you gasp as his fingers on the sides of your neck press harder, feeling yourself clenching all over his cock. your incoherent words fill the room, moans and whimpers that were unimaginably lewd.
"cum for me." he commands, the squelching sounds of your juices and the skin slapping driving him to the edge. "show me how much this turns you on, slut."
you release all over him, and he follows suit. your breaths were ragged and shallow as you come down from your highs, the pain in your wrists starting to register to your brain. with your eyes closed, you feel heeseung pulling out of you, reaching out to your hands and untying your wrists. he immediately rubs them carefully, the red marks left on them making him think that he might've went too hard on you.
"don't worry, i'm fine." you pant, your skin glistening with sweat.
silently, he grabs his phone on top of the paper stack, quickly snapping a picture of you bent down in your bra and skirt. he can see himself jerking off of this photo in the future.
"lee heeseung!" you shout, not leaving your position, his cocky grin pissing you off.
"what?"
"clean me the fuck up! what will mr. park say?"
with that, he stands up and proceeds to clean you up. he even puts on your uniform back to its original state, but the creases on it are so evident that someone might suspect something.
"i didn't even get to touch you!" you add, feeling a bit sulky as he gives you a small peck.
"stop being such a hottie, then." he smirks, grabbing your ass to which you yelp.
you huff. "i'm transferring schools after this term. we can't go around fucking in faculty rooms anymore."
well, you had a point.
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serpentineeee · a month ago
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𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞; 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐲
Warnings: lap—dancing, language, watching, mentions of smut? drinking, over 18
Wattpad: @-serpentine
Word Count: 931
"Are you playing Y/N?" Pansy asked, placing an empty bottle of Fire Whiskey in the centre of a poorly formed circle. Draco snorted.
"What's so funny Malfoy?" She asked, annoyance in her tone prominent. "Do you really think she'll play Pansy? She wouldn't do that in her dreams."
Her cheeks turned crimson at Draco's remark. The blonde would always pester her for not engaging in games as such, or for having lack of experience. She looked to Theodore and Blaise who had begrudgingly nodded. She didn't want to be the fun—destroyer, but she didn't desire to have the chance of becoming intimate with the blonde boy. The alcohol buzzed through her veins, and she nodded her head from the sudden confidence.
"I'll play Pansy."
Draco sunk back onto the head board of his bed. She had always had a certain dislike pertained towards him, for his lack of morality, and general kindness, but she couldn't halt herself from admiring the attractive features he had been gifted.
The alcohol spoke volumes.
The way his blonde hair was ruffled from running his hands through it constantly throughout the night, the strong scent of his cologne, and his oh—so—famous style. "Y/N, it's your turn." Daphne said, snapping her out of her thoughts.
She tightened her grip on the cold glass of the bottle until it began to turn. As it slowed, it had been close to Malfoy, though it landed slightly to the side. Blaise grinned widely at her accomplice.
Daphne, she had to kiss Daphne. The witch she had been friends with since first year. "This is why I never play." She muttered to herself. "Do I actually have to do this?" The blonde girl asked, in consideration of their relationship.
The four eagerly nodded their heads, Y/N felt an especially hard gaze on her as she looked to meet a smirking expression of Draco Malfoy. "This means nothing." Daphne leaned forward, gripping her arm and pressing her lips onto Y/N tasting the variation of different alcohols she consumed that night.
It had only been for a second, and Theodore burst out laughing. "Kinky best friends."
Blaise stifled a chuckle and Y/N rolled her eyes.
Seven rounds had since passed, with Pansy kissing Blaise and Theodore, Daphne and Blaise, but Draco had not gone yet. "How come he hasn't had a turn?" She asked with intent.
"Since this is becoming boring, I though we should add a twist." Pansy chirped malevolently. "Next person it lands on, has to give a lap dance to the spinner."
She internally strangled the raven haired girl. Groaning for what would happen.
Draco reached towards the bottle and spun. It slowed accordingly towards Theodore, but it had continued spinning and landed on Y/N. Theodore, Blaise and Pansy jeered, and Draco leaned backwards. From her peripheral, she saw Daphne stifle a chuckle. Pansy had chosen to bring a muggle music player, but Y/N had not known what it had been.
Y/N wanted to refuse but she knew the lot would not let go of the time she once again, destroyed the fun. The alcohol pulsated through her veins as she stood up, her heart palpitated and she could feel it through her throat.
Draco had a smug expression upon his face. Smirking at the pretty witch he had admired, she was of course a—no—fun person, but he could not help but adore her perfection.
Y/N noticed how he magically moved from floor, to being perched upon a chair, his white button up, open, exposing his pale chest, he intentionally spread his legs apart for her.
She turned around, with her backside facing him as she began to glide her hips in rhythm with the music Pansy played, she lowered herself enough to come in contact with his lap, grinding slightly to elicit a groan from him. One only she heard.
She walked around the chair, around the back to lean into his ear, kissing his neck, finding her way up to his earlobe. "I bet you dreamed of me doing this." She whispered, a shock to herself as she had never thought of speaking in such a sexy tone to anyone.
Y/N returned to his lap, she felt his hands on her hips and felt herself being pushed down onto him, a gasp erupted her lips as she felt something poking her.
She moved herself on his lap to get comfortable, but he began quietly groaning. "Fuck, stop moving Y/N." She rolled her eyes. "What's in your pockets Malfoy? It's not comfortable."
She hadn't known why she didn't stand up and sit in her spot once more, Y/N did not feel like being away, and she hadn't know why. "There's nothing in my pockets, darling."
Darling.
They had completely forgotten the three watching them intently, with grins coating his faces. None of them chose to acknowledge the girl sitting on his lap and continued to spin the bottle.
Draco leaned into her ear and whispered lowly. "We're not finished here." Her felt his hand snake around her waist and pull her closer to him. Another gasp left her lips at the sudden movement, though no one seemed to notice.
The lot had left Draco's prefect dorm, but he told Y/N to stay behind.
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duskholland · 11 months ago
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Adore || Professor!Tom Smut
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professor!tom x student!reader — smut.
summary ↠ your history professor is remarkably attractive, and you can’t quite seem to kick the crush that you’ve managed to develop on him... warnings ↠ student/teacher relationship, a bit of angst but nothing too extreme, brief mentions of cheating and nsfw 18+ content !! extended smut warnings are beneath the cut <3 word count ↠ 15.8k a/n ↠ I don’t condone sleeping with your professor irl! please act responsibly. this is a work of fiction, and please do not consume it if you are uncomfortable with this dynamic! the biggest shoutout ever goes to @marvelouspeterparker​, who wrote an incredible prof!tom fic a couple of months ago which prompted me to dust off this fic and finish it off !! thank you for inspiring this alyssa! I had a blast writing it <3 also !! this is my submission for @geminiparkers​’ 1k writing challenge :) I changed my prompt a thousand times but eventually settled on prof!tom + secret relationship. thank you for hosting such a creative challenge and congrats again on 1k chloe !! ***** this is LONG ! if mobile crashes, I suggest trying to read this on desktop <3
extended warnings: there are a thousand different fucked up, clichéd fantasies in here... you’ve been warning lmao. there are two sections of smut. nsfw includes: protected MxF intercourse, fingering (f-receiving), mutual masturbation, oral (m-receiving), spanking as punishment, orgasm denial, dom!tom, degradation, a raging sir/good girl kink, brat taming, gagging, hair pulling and choking. stay safe if you try to imitate any of the elements in this fic. also—maybe don’t shag your professor...?
——— Adore ———
It’s Friday afternoon of the first week of semester, and to say that your mood is bad would be an understatement—you are thunderous. Your back hurts, courtesy of carrying your bag up the thirteen flights of stairs in the history department, your throat aches, and you think whoever decided to schedule your Early British History class for the 5-6pm slot on a Friday afternoon has to be the worst person around. 
After checking your phone for the precise room number and wandering around the upper floor of the building for a few minutes, you finally find your assigned classroom. Thankfully, you’d factored in a couple of spare moments in the instance that you ended up lost, so you’re able to push open the creaky door and walk in, unafraid of another scolding from an ancient, strict professor. As much as you like them, the history faculty tends to consist of a bunch of old fossils, rusty in their teaching methods, unmoving in their attitudes. 
The room is almost empty when you walk in, desks arranged in a horseshoe shape with a large whiteboard hanging from the back wall. In front of the board is a desk, and leaning on the edge of it is a man. He’s staring down at his notepad, but as you walk into the room and announce yourself with a pleasant, “hello,” he looks up and places it down. 
“Good afternoon,” he greets, voice accented and smooth. You can’t quite hide the smile that comes with realising your British History professor wears the accent so thickly. “Take a seat wherever you’d like.”
You nod as you pick out a seat near the front desk, pulling off your bag and settling there as you wonder how many other students are taking the class with you. Once you’ve pulled out your notebook and a few pens, you try to get a discreet look at your professor. 
Professor Holland is one of the most well-known members of staff in the department. You’ve never had the pleasure of sitting in on a class or lecture taught by him, but your friends that have had him as their teacher always wax poetic every time he’s mentioned. He’s young—fit, handsome, confident. As your eyes run over his wavy brown hair and the way his white turtleneck clings to his torso, you can’t say you don’t see the attraction.
Suddenly he stands up, and you immediately avert your eyes so he doesn’t catch you subtly checking him out. His slender fingers dig into his pockets. “Did you see anyone else on your way up here?” He asks curiously.
You look up at him, shifting in your seat as you meet his dazzling brown eyes. “A few people,” you say.
“Good.” He rubs his hands together, chuckling nervously. “I’m Professor Holland,” he introduces, eyeing you closely. “I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you before.”
“Y/N,” you say, accompanying it with a shy smile. It’s hard to guess his age, but you can’t imagine he’s many years your senior—not with the state of his youthful, glowing face, or the lines of strong muscle that so clearly pack his torso. “I haven’t ever studied British History before,” you explain.
Professor Holland raises a brow, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks at you, intrigued. You try not to look at how his biceps bulge. “You’ve been missing out,” he says, accompanying the statement with a toothy grin. “It’s the best period to study.”
“I’m not sure,” you joke. “You’ll have to convince me, sir.”
He runs a hand through his hair, eyes lingering on your face for a moment. “I hope I will, Y/N.”
Before your conversation can continue, the door to the classroom opens again, and a stream of students walk in. You feel your mood take a drastic plummet as your eyes fall upon the figure of a familiar boy. You rest your elbows on the desk and shy away as best you can, holding your face in your hands as you look the other way, trying to remain undetected. 
“Y/N? Y/N?”
Shit. 
You slowly raise your head, looking to your left with a grimace. There stands Tony, your ex-boyfriend, grinning at you. 
“Oh, it is you,” he says. “Funny. I didn’t know you’d be in this class.”
You shift around in your seat, uncomfortable at being so close to someone who has broken your heart so effortlessly. You’d been with Tony for a year, only to have it all come crashing down when you’d caught him with another girl at a party at the close of last semester. You’re still healing from the pain he’d brought you. 
“Neither did I,” you grimace. In fact, you’d purposefully picked this class because Tony had always complained about how boring he found the subject area. 
Much to your dismay, he slips into the empty chair beside you. 
“How are you? Haven’t heard from you in a while.” Tony crosses his arms and stares at you, hard. Yet, his aren’t the only pairs of eyes you can feel resting on your figure. You glance towards the front of the classroom and see Professor Holland standing there, watching you intently. When you catch his eye, he immediately looks away. 
“I’m fine,” you respond, voice dull. 
Tony opens his mouth, but he’s interrupted by the sound of your professor clapping his hands. 
“Right, let’s get started. What did you all make of this week’s reading…?”
The seminar passes by slowly. You’re twitchy—not in your right mind, unable to think with your ex sitting so close to you. It doesn’t matter that you’d spent four hours in the library yesterday researching the topic of discussion—you’re withdrawn and quiet, sitting there for the entire time with your stare burning into the desk. 
When the clock strikes 6pm and the class is dismissed, you’re surprised when the professor pauses in front of your desk, glances at you and then his watch, then hesitates for a brief second before saying, “Could I speak to you for a few moments, Y/N?”
You nod wordlessly, immediately feeling nervous. Tony leaves, as does the rest of the class, and you find yourself breathing easier despite knowing you’ve probably been held back to be scolded. 
Professor Holland walks over to his desk, picking up a notebook and pen before dragging his desk chair towards you. He sets it down in front of your table and flops down into it, sighing dramatically as he ruffles up his hair and looks at you. 
“You’re not in any trouble,” he leads with. “I was just concerned. It felt as though you were trying to sink through the floor for the entire seminar, Y/N. Is everything okay? Is Early British History really that terrible?” His tone is light, teasing, and you can tell he’s trying to ease you, but instead, you find yourself gnawing your lower lip. 
“I’m sorry, professor,” you say, running your index finger over the page of your notebook with your sprawled notes. “I did the work for the seminar. I just…” You hesitate, not knowing if you want to divulge such personal details to your senior. “I was distracted by one of the people in our class. I didn’t know that they were on this course.” You sigh as you look up at him. “I think I’ll need to change class.”
Professor Holland sits up a little straighter, eyebrows pulling together as he frowns. 
“That would be a shame,” he says, voice soft. His eyes are very kind. “Are those your notes there?” When you nod, he rubs his hands together. “Do you want to go over them with me just now? Maybe then you’ll be able to gauge if this topic interests you. If you like it, we can come up with a solution to make you feel at ease in my class, and if you don’t…” He breaks off, chuckling charmingly. “Well, I’d feel better about losing you from my class, Y/N.”
You nod. “Okay,” you agree. He gives you an encouraging grin, and your own mouth pulls into a shy smile. 
For about fifteen minutes, you go back and forth with the professor, discussing some of the earlier points from the seminar. You perk up quickly, easily forgetting the weariness of your body and the lateness in the day. There’s something incredibly electric about the way that you find yourself able to bounce off Professor Holland. He’s patient with you—giving you time to explore your points before offering a few pointers and guiding questions. It isn’t long before you’re sitting up straighter, speaking confidently and watching as he hums, and nods, and coos soft words of encouragement. You know he’s just being nice, but every time he comes out with a warm acclamation of ‘good girl’ or ‘very clever, Y/N’, you feel your pulse spike. 
By the time you’ve worked through the whole sheet, you feel better, and Professor Holland is smiling. His notebook lies discarded on the desk and he’s got arms crossed again over his chest. The bright white of his turtleneck makes the worn leather band of his watch stand out, and you find your eyes drifting comfortably along the lines of his slender fingers as he plays with the strap. 
“I think it’s fair to say that you have a very strong understanding of the course materials, Y/N,” he finally says. 
You beam. “Thank you, sir.”
His lips twitch, and his eyes darken a little as he leans closer, resting his elbows on his knees. 
“I would hate to lose you from my class. Is there anything I can do to make you reconsider?” 
You feel more relaxed now—more comfortable, emboldened. Fifteen minutes of academic debate would loosen anyone up, and you are no exception. Especially when your professor is as concerned and soothing as yours is. 
“The guy that sat next to me,” you start. “Tony.”
“Mmm.”
“We have a bit of history,” you say, choosing your words carefully, watching as Professor Holland’s expression changes slightly. “I don’t feel comfortable being so close to him, or enjoy the idea of having to work with him.”
“I see.” Your professor picks up his notepad and starts to scrawl some notes. 
“It’s not a big deal,” you add, speaking slightly quicker. “I don’t want to make a fuss—“
“Let me stop you right there.” He clicks the top of his pen before leaning in. You can smell his cologne, rolling off him in waves. Its scent is intoxicating, and you find yourself drifting closer as if magnetised. “If something bothers you, then it bothers you, and if he makes you uncomfortable to the point where you’re scared to speak up in class and share your brilliant thoughts with the rest of us, then I take issue with that.” Professor Holland puts the notebook down on the table beside you, his hand resting on top of it, a mere few centimetres from yours. “I can make a seating plan and ensure you’re never partnered together for group work. Would that make you more comfortable?” 
You nod slowly, feeling weight roll from your shoulders. 
“Yeah,” you say, smiling softly. “That’d make me feel a lot better.”
Professor Holland nods. The tips of his teeth glint as he smiles. “Phew,” he jokes, eyes slipping all over your face. “You are a bright spark, Y/N.” He stretches out his fingers and you still as his warm fingertips make contact with the top of your hand. His touch is light but smooth, and you bite back a frown as he shifts away from the contact after only a moment. He sits back and looks at you, his jaw set with determination. “I would hate to lose you from my class.”
“Thank you,” you say. You close over your notebook. 
“Of course.” His voice is soft, full of concern. “I’m always here. For anything you might need.” 
There are undertones to it—implications that don’t quite make sense yet, but you like them. 
“Thanks, sir.”
*:・゚✧*:・゚✧ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
Three weeks later, you find yourself back in the seminar room. True to his word, Professor Holland reorganised the classroom and modified the class schedule. Tony barely shows up anymore, disgruntled by his placement so far away from you and despising the topics of discussion. You feel better about it all now—in fact, you may even go as far as to say that Early British History has become your favourite class of the week. 
You’re not alone in that ranking. There’s a group chat set up with the rest of your classmates, and every day you find yourself reading messages sent by the rest of your group detailing how much they love Professor Holland. They adore your professor, to the point where you find yourself looking at him a little differently, too. You suppose it wouldn’t be hard for him to stand out—the rest of the history faculty is made up of stricter, far less approachable characters, and your professor is the only person even close to you in age, whilst also fitting the bill of being an attractive, young academic. As your attraction to him slowly starts to build, you can’t stop yourself from hitting the same wall every single time: he is also your professor, which means, despite what he stresses, he isn’t always available to you—not in the ways you find yourself craving. 
But it’s all just thoughts and meaningless speculation. You know that there’s no point mulling it over or even entertaining such passionate thoughts, because you have no doubts that he feels none of the same ways that you do. Just because you’ve come to admire his voice, and his form, and his eyes, doesn’t mean he reciprocates. If anything, you’re certain that he doesn’t—following the second seminar, you’d watched as he’d firmly and clearly shot down advances made by one of the bolder students in your class. 
As is now routine, following the seminar, Professor Holland dismisses you all a little after 6pm. With your head still buzzing with facts about early industrialisation, you clear your throat and linger behind, slinging your bag over your back as you rock back on the balls of your feet. 
“Uh, professor?” You call out, biting your lip. 
He turns to look at you, and for a moment, you let your eyes drift over his figure. He’s always dressed well, you’ve noticed. This week it’s a yellow turtleneck, tucked beneath a dark denim jacket with a pair of chequered trousers wrapped around his thighs. His watch is still there, hanging off his left wrist, worn and familiar. 
“Yes, Y/N?”
You cross your arms over your chest, swallowing as you steady yourself. Every time he stares into your eyes, you find yourself a little breathless. 
“I was wondering if you had any reading recommendations for next week’s topic..? I’ve already read all of the suggested books.” 
He raises an eyebrow. “You’ve read all of the suggested reading? Already?”
You chuckle as you nod, hanging your head, a little embarrassed. “Yeah,” you admit. “I found it really interesting.”
He strokes his chin, humming. “I can think of a few texts.” He pauses, briefly biting his lower lip. “You probably wouldn’t be able to find them in the library. They’re quite specialised.” He picks up his things, walking towards you. “Do you have time to stop by my office? If you come on Monday, I’ll have the chance to pick them out for you.” He flashes you an easy smile, and you nod. 
“Yeah,” you say breathlessly. “I’d love that.”
“Great. Uh, my office is on the ground floor. Room 5B. How does 5pm sound?” 
You nod. “Perfect.”
He hums, eyes dancing. “See you then.”
*:・゚✧*:・゚✧ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
It’s a little embarrassing how long you spend pondering your outfit. It’s also slightly humiliating that you spend fifteen minutes in the bathroom before your meeting, fiddling with your hair and your earrings and applying fresh perfume before walking out in search of Professor Holland’s office. Nerves rattle you. 
You find your way to his office, walking past the offices belonging to each faculty member. It’s late in the day, and most of the rooms lie vacant and dark. In fact, all of the offices in this wing of the building seem to be deserted. Your footsteps echo down the barren corridor, and all too soon you find yourself outside his office—5B. 
After taking a breath and steeling yourself, you rap your knuckles over the green door. A moment later, you hear him, calling out a clear, “Come in!”
The hinges squeak as you walk into the office, your eyes taking a few moments to adjust to the warm lights. You look around curiously, taking in his room for all that it is. 
It’s small but cosy. A desk takes up a large part of the space, behind it sits Professor Holland. There’s a long bookshelf covering one of the walls and a stack of filing cabinets along the other, as well as a short mini fridge with a kettle balanced on top of it. A few parched plants are heaped around the room, as are a few photographs. There’s a candle sitting on the windowsill, flickering gently, sweet scents filling the room. 
It’s very cute, and somehow exactly what you’d imagined from him. 
“Hello,” you say, raising a hand in a small wave. Your professor is sitting behind his desk, looking tired but still alert. He reaches out and gestures at the chair in front of his desk. 
“Here, sit,” he encourages. “Sorry it’s a little messy. I’ve been marking essays all day and I tend to spread out.” He chuckles as he twirls a ballpoint pen in his fingers. “I’ve never been the best at controlling my workspace.”
You sit in the seat, slipping off your jacket and bag. After fixing the front of your shirt and fiddling with your hair, you shoot him a smile. 
“It’s fine, professor,” you say. “Your office is very nice.”
“Call me Tom,” he asks. “I like it a lot better than professor.”
Tom. Tom Holland. Professor Tom Holland. 
Your lips pull into a ghost of a smirk. 
“Okay, Tom.”
He sits back in his chair, his hands going to rest behind his head. For the first time, you realise he’s in a t-shirt, black, clinging to him tightly, and you have to make a very focused effort to stop yourself from looking at the defined curves of his biceps. 
“Professor makes me sound like I’m so old,” Tom admits, chuckling slightly. His eyes shift across your face, and he bites his lip. “I’m only 26.”
You raise your brows. “You’re very accomplished for someone so young,” you compliment. 
He shrugs, cheeks darkening a little. “Thanks,” he says. “I love what I do.” 
“Did you always know you wanted to be a professor?” 
“No.” Tom smiles like he finds the suggestion amusing. “It was a last-minute decision coming to university at all, let alone doing my masters.” One of his hands comes away from his head, and he rests it on his desk, rubbing two fingers over a smudged ink mark as he glares at it, frowning. “I’ve ended up in a very fortunate place, though. I’m lucky.”
“You’re an amazing teacher.” Your voice is soft, tender. 
He glances up at you, eyes dancing. “Thank you, darling.” He blinks a few times, his gaze clearing as yours darkens. You bite your lip as your mind circles around how nicely the pet name sounds dripping from his mouth. Honeyed and warm, like his eyes. “I’ll, uh, get you those books.”
You hum and watch as Tom stands up, clearing his throat as he tries to regain his composure. There’s still a blush on his cheeks. 
“Thank you for finding them for me,” you say, craning your neck back and watching as he starts to examine his bookshelf, picking up a few hardbacks. They look heavy, but he cradles them to his chest. 
“‘Course,” Tom murmurs, still scanning the bookshelf. “I’m here to help you however I can.”
You watch as he struggles to keep a hold of so many books whilst also pulling out more titles, his mouth frowning slightly. “Do you want me to help?”
His gaze briefly skitters back and across your figure before he nods. “Yeah, if you could come and hold these for me, that’d be great.”
You stand, slowly, your legs feeling a little weak. It’s hard to concentrate when you’re stuck in a room that smells so strongly of him, and he’s standing there, arms flexed as he holds piles of books. Attraction churns in your lower stomach, and though you try to fight it, you can’t deny that you’re wondering what other sweet words you could coax from his lips. Love, sweetheart, darling…. You wonder what his hair feels like, without the gel that holds it so still. You wonder if he’s a good kisser, if he tastes minty or sweet. 
“Y/N?” 
You realise you’ve been staring, and you feel your face warm. Tom’s lips pull into a teasing smile, his eyes dancing with intrigue. 
“Did I lose you?” He adds. 
You blink a few times. “Never,” you say. “Sorry, I was… distracted.”
“Do you tend to get distracted easily?” He asks, voice quieter. You find yourself drifting nearer, coaxed in by his dulcet tones. 
“No, sir.” You rest against the bookshelf, leaning against it with an arm as you face him. You reach out for the books, and he passes them to you, his eyes fixed on your face. It’s like he’s picking you apart, trying to map the curves of your face. “Just keeps seeming to happen when I’m around you.”
He sucks in a short breath. His fingers slowly drift to where your hands are holding the heavy books, and you fall very still as he strokes along your knuckles with an index finger, seeming to test the waters. When you lean closer, he steps a little nearer too.
“That’s a shame,” he says, still running his finger over the bumps of your knuckles. “I can’t have my best student losing focus.” 
You shift to the side, resting further against the bookshelf. Your breathing comes out shallower, and you’re able to examine him in much more vivid detail, learning the splash of freckles over his cheeks, the slanted lines of his nose, the hard curve of his jaw. Tom’s skin is clear and looks very soft, his eyes like rippling fires. His gaze flickers across your face, slipping from your eyes to lips, where they linger. He steps closer and curls his hand to cover yours. 
“I don’t mind being distracted by you, professor,” you whisper. He’s so close, his breath comes out across your mouth. “You could—“
Before you can finish speaking your provocative sentence, one of the books you’re leaning against decides to take a tumble from the shelf. You yelp as it lands on one of your feet, springing back from Professor Holland as you curse loudly. The mood shatters, and you feel him drop your hand as his face flushes. 
“Shit, are you okay?” He asks, watching as you curse and hop around. 
Through tearful eyes, you nod. “Yeah,” you mutter. Your foot throbs and you find yourself cursing the universe for such ill timing. A sheepish smile works its way over your face. “Maybe that should be my cue to leave.” You don’t want to push your luck, and you know whatever spell had briefly been pulled across the room has shattered now. Tom is standing further away from you, unable to meet your eyes, face aflame and flustered. 
“Uh, alright,” he manages, gaze drifting to his watch as he swallows audibly. “It is getting late. Just…” he turns back to the bookshelf and picks up a final book. When he adds it to the pile already in your hands, he gives you a soft nod. “There,” he announces. “That should be enough to keep you busy.”
You nod as you walk back to his desk, briefly putting down the books as you pull on your jacket and bag again. Tom lingers by the door, the hand with his watch strapped to it resting on the doorknob. 
“Thank you so much, uh, Prof— Tom,” you say, correcting yourself with a nervous smile. 
He nods. “Any time, love. Enjoy your books.” 
You swallow, nodding wordlessly as your eyes linger on his mouth. After a moment, Tom reluctantly opens the office door. 
“Thank you,” you say, finally. Your voice is significantly weaker than you’d like. “I’ll see you in class on Friday.”
Tom’s elbow leans up against the door, and his fingers fall down to play with the back of his hair. His eyes are back on your lips, and there’s a ghost of a smirk on his face. 
“See you then, Y/N.”
*:・゚✧*:・゚✧ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
It takes a few days for the lovestruck clouds to clear, and for you to come back to earth. As you start to think about your meeting in more detail, you find yourself wondering how far you could actually take it, with Tom. 
It wouldn’t be illegal to fraternise with him—you are both adults. You’ve heard stories from your friends about students and professors getting it on. It’s frowned upon, certainly, but you’ve never heard of any significant action being taken by your university in response to it. Unethical? Perhaps. But a serious cause for concern? Not really. You’re free to do whatever you please. As your conscience clears, you feel an idea forming in the back of your mind. You decide to test the waters so that you’ll know for sure, either way, if the spark exists. 
Your next seminar passes by without an issue. You feel Professor Holland watching you a little closer, though, eyes lingering on you, following your movements every time you reposition yourself or fiddle with your hair. Armed with the knowledge that neither of you will face suspension or punishment for playing a game of cat and mouse, you lean into it. You take pleasure resting forward on your elbows every time you answer a question, stretching out your chest, and you enjoy injecting your voice with soft tones when you address him. It’s innocent enough to draw no attention from your classmates, but Tom seems to grow flustered. You notice that he stays seated behind the desk for the second half of the lesson, and wonder if that was your doing. 
He concludes the seminar with a few pieces of interesting information: “Next week, most of you will be away on the department trip to Stonehenge. I will be here, for our allotted time. I’m not expecting anyone to show up, but if you need any assistance with the course materials or your upcoming essays, please feel free to drop by.”
As his deep chocolate eyes flicker over you, you make a decision: fuck Stonehenge, you’re willing to take your chances with another of Britain’s greatest sights. 
You’re nervous as you climb the thirteen flights of stairs up to the seminar room the following week. Your legs are cold, your skirt drifting just above your knees. Beneath your cardigan, you’re in a thin grey vest. In a bold move, you’d pulled off your bra in the lower level bathrooms, shoving it into your bag with the rest of your books. Your nipples strain against the vest, chilly in the draughty stairwell. 
You’re breathing a little heavier by the time you reach the top floor, legs tired from the cardio. Nerves mix with your excitement, and you end up second-guessing yourself as you slowly walk towards the seminar room. What if you’ve misinterpreted the signals? What if he’s just friendly? What if you’re walking into a situation that you’ve entirely fabricated, and will stay as a red stain on your student record for the rest of your years at uni? 
It’s too late for you to back out, as you pause outside the room and find the door already open. Tom’s sitting on the edge of his desk, and as your footsteps die in the corridor, he glances up and sees you. He swallows, putting down his phone as he sits a little straighter. You watch his eyes caress your figure, taking in the short length of your skirt and then the way your nipples are clearly visible through the material of your vest. 
Professor Holland is wearing something more casual today—a pair of dark-washed jeans and a white t-shirt. He stands up, rolling his fingertips over his bare arm as you slowly, tentatively, walk into the room. 
“I didn’t know if you’d come,” he admits, eyes sparkling beneath the dim lights. Outside, it’s already getting dark. He slips his phone into his back pocket as you near him. 
“I didn’t know if you’d want me to, sir,” you return, voice open and honest. 
You exchange a look with him, and as you take in the eclectic mix of uncertainty and lust that churns in his eyes, you realise you’ve been on the same page the entire time. 
“I wanted you to.” 
Tom’s hands slowly lift into the air, and you feel no qualms walking into them. His warm palms find home on your waist, his fingers softly rolling over your hips. 
“Did you?” You murmur. You feel hot—sparks running out from every point that you connect with him. 
He nods. His hands shift back, ever so slightly, following the curve of your ass as he plays with the material of your skirt. You stifle a moan and move closer, pushing back into his hold and inhaling breaths of his cologne. For a few moments, Tom lets his hands roam freely, but then he drops all contact and steps away. As your lips roll into a pout, his expression pulls into one of seriousness. 
“I don’t want you to feel any pressure to do anything with me,” he murmurs. Seeing your pout, one of his hands moves up to cup your cheek. You nuzzle into it as his slender fingers caress your cheekbone. “This entire situation is... not advised.” 
“But it is allowed,” you point out. “I looked it up.”
Professor Holland’s thumb rolls over your lower lip as he smirks slightly. “Good girl,” he coos. “You’re right. But…” When you take his thumb into your mouth and massage the tip with your tongue, he breaks off briefly, eyes darkening. “I want you to be sure that you really want this. So, I’m going to go to my office now, and I’ll be there for the next hour.” He pulls his thumb from your mouth and smears your saliva over your lips. “I want you to know that there is no expectation for you to join me, but you’re more than welcome to come down. If you would like.”
He’s cute when he’s nervous. 
“Okay,” you say, smiling. “Just, before you go—“
Before you can lose your nerve, you reach up and cup his face. His skin is cool to touch, but after he inclines his head into a half nod, you step closer and carefully press your lips to his. Your eyelids flutter shut as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer as he kisses you back. His lips are thin but gentle, coaxing soft moans from your mouth when he nibbles over your lower lip before pushing his tongue into your open mouth. It gets heated quickly, your heart racing in your chest as you kiss him, and kiss him, fingers roaming his back, curling up to cling to his hair. He tastes minty—fresh and sharp. 
Tom breaks it off after a few mind-numbing moments, his nose nudging against yours as your foreheads touch. 
“Bloody hell,” he mutters. He squeezes your waist before finally pulling back, and this time you know it’s permanent. His eyes are hungrier, and when you glance at his jeans, you see a bulge in his crotch. “Room 5B,” he mutters, his gaze skimming over your figure. “Wait a few minutes before coming down, darling.” 
You sit up on his desk as you nod. “Okay, professor.”
He curses quietly, accented voice carving through the expletive perfectly. He glances back at you a few times before finally leaving the room, tongue roaming his lower lip. 
Every second feels like an hour, as you wait up in the seminar room. The thrills of reciprocation, anticipation and arousal combine, and you can’t stop thinking of him. Your panties are soaked, your slit wet and your clit pulsing. 
You’re slightly unsteady as you start the long descent down the staircases, clinging to the railing with shaking hands. Every step that guides you closer to him brings you more and more adrenaline. Your footsteps echo down the quiet corridors until you reach his office. You don’t bother to knock—instead, you just turn the knob and walk in, swallowing deeply. 
Immediately, you find yourself being pressed up against the door. Professor Holland is in front of you, hungry lips meeting with yours. His mouth swallows your squeal of surprise as his fingers turn the lock on the door, then go back to your waist. As your digits twirl into his hair and rest there, you feel his cock, hard and straining against your thigh. 
“Fuck,” he mutters. He grinds into your leg, and you moan as you feel him. “I want you to go and sit on my desk, gorgeous. Can you do that?” 
“Yes, sir,” you murmur, enjoying the way he growls. He slaps your ass as you walk away from him, causing you to whimper as arcs of pleasurable pain tingle across your skin. You walk around to his desk and do as instructed, swinging your legs in the air as Tom strides over to you. He flips down into the chair, hands going to his belt as his fingers play with his buckle. 
“Show me what you’re hiding under that tiny little skirt,” he murmurs, voice husky. “You don’t normally wear things like that… Did you put it on for me?”
“Yeah,” you admit. “Thought you might like it.”
You lift your hips as your fingers grab the waistband of your panties, and you tug your white thong down your legs with ease. You kick them aside before planting one of your shoes on the table, arching your back as your hand flips up the front of your skirt, leaving your cunt bare and exposed. You watch the way that his eyes darken, and feel your own widen as he pulls his cock from his jeans. Tom’s length, red and flushed, tip weepy, sits in his hand, and he spits into his palm before beginning to jerk himself off. 
“So fucking pretty,” he coos. “Touch yourself for me, darling. Show me how you like to be played with.”
With your legs spread, you find it easy to drag a hand between your legs. Your head falls back as you lean back a little, changing the angle until you’re able to easily slip two digits into your tight heat. You’re so wet that it coats your fingers, and when you pull out your touch and drag your fingertips over your clit, the movements are smooth. Your bud pulses as you keep your eyes trained on Professor Holland, his face the picture of smirking pleasure as he watches you open yourself up, entirely at his mercy. 
“Please, fuck me, sir,” you find yourself saying when you dip your fingers back into your heat. Your face feels hot, your pulse pounding through your ears. As you work yourself open and find your g-spot, tucked away in your upper walls, your jaw falls slacks. “Been thinking about you for ages.”
“Oh, you have, have you?” Tom’s voice is slightly strained, his face hued a deep red. The muscles in his forearm flex as he jerks himself off, eyes fixed between your legs at the point where your fingers are buried in your pussy. “You have some dirty fantasies about getting fucked by your professor?”
It sounds so wrong that it makes you moan. “Yeah,” you whine, chest heaving. “Got off thinking about you taking me, on this desk, just like this. Would touch myself as I thought about your cock filling me up and stretching me out as you use me.”
Tom groans. He releases his cock and moves closer, batting your hands away from your centre before smoothing both of his warm hands over your soft inner thighs. 
“I have a few fantasies of my own, darling,” he mutters. “Do you want to hear them?” Very delicately, he uses two fingers to part your outer pussy lips. As you whimper and nod, he leaves a very wet, sloppy kiss to your clit, then rolls his thumb over it, stimulating it slowly. “I’ve thought about having you on your knees, sucking on my cock like such a good girl. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes,” you whine, shifting around on the table as Tom’s thumb rubs light, incessant circles over your bud. 
“Stay still,” he says, using his other hand to hold your hips in place. “Don’t make me punish you.” When you whimper, he arcs an eyebrow. “Or, maybe you want to be my bad girl, eh?” Tom drops his head and bites your inner thigh, the sting of pain making your breath hitch. “Yeah… I think you’d like that a lot better, wouldn’t you? Only a very wicked girl would think about getting fucked by her professor… and that’s exactly what you want to happen, isn’t it?”
You feel like you might dissolve if he doesn’t fuck you soon. Your neglected hole keeps clenching around nothing, his teasing circles on your clit driving you mad. 
“Yeah. Shit, Tom, please fuck me.” 
“Such a dirty mouth.” He pulls away and stands up, kicking down his jeans and boxers quickly before sweeping them aside. You scoot further up the desk, clearing away any objects that might get in the way as you lay back, resting on your elbows as you stare at him. You find yourself licking your lips as you watch Tom roll a condom down his thick length, parting your legs subconsciously. “Think I’m going to have to fuck the brattiness right out of you, eh?” 
“Please.” 
Tom smoothes his hands over your thighs before bringing them up to your front. He jerks your vest up your chest until he sees your breasts, his hands squeezing them as you whimper. Yet, as he leans over you to kiss you, his face softens. With his cock coasting through your slit, he pauses, his lips a mere centimetre from yours. 
“You’re sure this is what you want, yeah?” He rasps, voice low. 
You lean in to kiss him, grabbing the back of his head to hold him in place. 
“100% positive,” you say. “If you don’t fuck me right now, I think I might die.”
Tom chuckles, hands drifting down to your hips. “Superb use of hyperbole,” he murmurs, winking at you. “You should put that in an essay sometime.”
Without another word, he slowly slips into you, causing both of you to groan. Your head falls back as his cock enters you, your walls stretching deliciously to accommodate him deep within your wet heat. Tom’s lips go to your neck, and you feel him nibbling and sucking hickeys to your skin as he buries himself up to the hilt, pausing until you give him the go-ahead. 
“You can move,” you say, voice strangled. When he does just that, you reach up and dig your fingers into his back, holding on for dear life as he starts to thrust into you—hard. “Shit, sir,” you cry out. “Feels so much better than I’d thought.”
He hums, breaths coming out laboured until he stands up straighter. Both hands go to your thighs, and Tom pulls you further down the desk, holding you in place as he thrusts into you, over and over again, his crotch meeting with yours just right each time. You feel exposed and vulnerable, spread out beneath him, barely clothed, and he stares at you like he’s ravenous. 
“You thought I’d be bad at satisfying you?” He teases, teeth glinting. You gasp when his hand falls down to slap your clit, the pain fading when he returns with his fingers to rub your tingling bud. “Because...seems to me you’re enjoying this a lot, love, with the way your tight little pussy is hanging onto me. I’d even say it feels like you might want to cum for me. Would that be right?” 
You can barely keep your eyes open—especially when he adjusts the angle and his cock brushes you against you g-spot. There’s an ache in your neck from how hard you’re straining. 
“Fucking love it,” you whine, grabbing his back harder. “Can I cum? Fuck, please let me cum.”
“Well, seeing as you asked so nicely, I don’t see why you can’t.” Tom is fucking you roughly, his thrusts growing irregular. The pressure on your clit never eases, even as you feel him near the edge too. “Let go for me, sweetheart. Let me feel you squeezing me.” 
Your eyes roll back as you fall apart on his desk, moaning loudly until you feel one of his hands coming down over your lips. He pins you down, prolonging the onslaught of pleasure that rips across you, spreading from your throbbing centre and curving out across the rest of your body. Above you, he’s watching you, eyes undressing the way you squirm and pulse for him, and you feel him peak a few moments later. With cries of his name, you feel his cock throb inside you, emptying into the condom until you’re both spent and panting. 
“Fuck,” you drawl, giggling softly as you open your eyes and take in his fucked-out expression. His hair sticks out wildly and his cheeks are red. Tom runs his hands over your legs as he slowly pulls out, your cunt clenching weakly around nothing as you’re left empty. “That was…”
“Intense,” he supplies. “How do you feel?” He keeps one eye on you and the other between his legs as he tends to the condom and the mess left behind. You’re surprised to see him procure a packet of wet wipes from the top drawer of his desk. 
“Great,” you admit, sitting up shakily. You accept one of the tissues gratefully, tenderly dabbing at your core as you tidy yourself up. You eye him sceptically, trying not to get too lost in how he seems to glow with a post-sex buzz. “Do you fuck a lot of people in this office, Tom?” You ask, thinking about how effortlessly he’d pulled out a condom too. 
He startles, looking at you with wide eyes. “No. Never before.” 
“Oh.” You can’t hide the expression of surprise. 
Tom comes closer, his jeans back on properly. His hands rest on your shoulders, and you part your legs so he can sit between your thighs. 
“I don’t want you to think that this was just a thing of convenience for me, Y/N, because it wasn’t. I find you very attractive.” He strokes his fingers over your shoulders as he meets your eyes. “This isn’t something that I’m supposed to do.”
You swallow as you drape your hands over his shoulders in return, admiring his firm muscles. 
“This isn’t something I’m supposed to do, either,” you say. You tilt your head and press a kiss to one of his hands, looking up at him innocently. “But I wouldn’t mind if it happened again.”
It goes so quiet you could hear a pin drop. As Tom’s gaze sweeps across your face, you feel your heart lodge in the back of your throat. 
“Okay,” he says eventually. “But only until the end of the semester. It’d be suspicious if people kept seeing us together once you’ve left my class.” As you nod your head in enthusiastic approval, he chuckles. His hand cups your face. “But… if you change your mind at any time, you need to tell me. There’s no obligation to service me, so don’t do anything you don’t want to do. Your comfort is my priority. Okay?”
You nod again. “You’re very chivalrous, Tom,” you murmur, pulling him closer. You kiss him fiercely, letting your teeth graze his lower lip. “But do you want to know a secret?”
He hums against your lips. 
“I don’t want chivalry,” you admit. His curls are soft as you tug on them. “I want you to fuck me, whenever and however you want, and use me like the slut that I am.”
You watch his Adam’s apple bob. “Shit,” he mutters. You smirk as you feel his cock harden again. “You’re going to get me into a lot of trouble, Y/N.”
You grin. “Perhaps.”
He chases after your lips, and you sigh as you find home in his. 
“Good job I like trouble.”
*:・゚✧*:・゚✧ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
It quickly becomes a habit. Every Friday, come 6pm, when the rest of your class drains the room and leaves you both alone, Professor Holland bends you over a desk or pushes you to your knees and sends you up to heaven. His mouth comes to know you, as do his fingers and the rest of his body as he grows familiar with your mannerisms and your ticks. It’s needy, primal and passionate—superficial and lustful, but absolutely fulfilling. No strings, beyond the fact that he’s also your professor. You love it. 
Halfway through the semester, you find yourself in the library. It’s late—the scene outside the large windows doused in black. You’re so tired you can barely keep your eyes open, but you’re stressed. You have three essays due in the next four days, and none of them are near completion. You’d taken yourself away into the library with the intention of grappling down and applying yourself, only to find that they don’t have the correct books in stock. As you burn the midnight oil, you feel yourself slipping, losing grip on everything as you grow anxious and frantic. 
You end up leaning down on the desk, head resting on your arms as you groan. You want to keep working, but your mind is frazzled, overloaded with facts and quotes and arguments that seem useless now. Your eyes hurt—welled high with hot tears that blur your waterline, and you wish you could drop through the floor and disappear, just for a few days, until your deadlines have passed. 
“Y/N?” 
With your head resting on your forearms, you’re unable to see who it is that’s standing in front of your desk. That doesn’t stop you from recognising his accented voice immediately. 
“Tom- uh, Professor Holland?”
You slowly sit up, your index fingers rubbing at your eyes as you try to make it look less like you’ve been having a breakdown for the last two hours. 
He’s standing at the edge of the table, arms crossed over his chest. Tom’s in a long billowing coat, black and white chequered and fuzzy, with a jumper, shirt and tie underneath it. His eyes are tired, but he’s chewing on his perfect lower lip as he stares at you, ruffled eyebrow raised. In one hand is a takeaway cup, and slung over his other shoulder is a messenger bag. 
“You look like you’re about to fade, darling,” he mutters, voice gentle. He glances around, taking stock of the empty library before slipping into the chair across from your table. He puts down his cup before reaching out, fingers briefly stroking over your hand as his eyes flutter across your face. “How long have you been here?”
It’s odd to have him looking at you with anything other than seduction, as Tom stares at you like he’s concerned. His brown eyes are bright and sincere, touch on your hand soft. You sink into it. 
“Four hours,” you groan. “Nothing’s working. I just feel so... stupid.” As your voice cracks, you pull your hand away from him and bury your face in your palms, feeling embarrassed that he’s seeing you like this—so uncomposed and weary. It’s not the impression you want to make on someone that you enjoy sleeping with so casually. 
He hums. Your eyes sting. After a moment more, you feel a light touch on your shoulder and reluctantly part your fingers so you can peek through them. He’s holding out his disposable cup, a smile on his face. 
“Drink,” he encourages. “It’s tea.”
You reach out and accept his offering gratefully, throwing it back and groaning in relief as you taste the wonderfully warm drink. You find yourself shivering, and stay still as Tom reaches out and presses the back of his hand to your forehead. 
“You’re bloody freezing,” he mutters. “Are you ill?”
You shake your head. “Don’t think so,” you reply, pausing to drink more tea. You sit up a little straighter, feeling more yourself the longer you sit with him. “Just feel really burnt out.”
There’s a small nudge at your leg, and you realise he’s slowly rubbing your shin with the tip of his shoe. When you chuckle, his smile widens. 
“That’s better,” Tom murmurs, voice soft. “Bring that lovely smile back.”
Your heart clenches, and a shy grin pulls at your lips. 
“Thank you for the tea,” you say, finally putting down the cup. You’ve drained it entirely. “You don’t need to…” You wave your hand in the air, making a vague sound. “Well, you know.”
He tilts his head to the side, lips quirking bolder. “Take care of you?” He supplies. 
You nod breathlessly, eyes drifting over him. Professor Holland usually wears his hair slicked back with gel, but it’s so late in the day that his curls have burst free. His face is pale, but he’s gazing at you fondly, and it’s bemusing but welcome. Very welcome. You quite like the way that he’s staring at you like he cares. 
“I do,” he says. Briefly, he squeezes your fingers, then stands up. “Put your stuff away. I’ll take you home.” 
You start to comply, only pausing when you’re shoving your folders into your bag. “Wait, are you sure? You probably have better things to do than—“
“I don’t.” Tom nudges your arms before stepping away, and the two of you start to walk together to the exit of the library. “There’s nothing I’d rather do than take you home, love.” He glances at you, almost shy. “Let me do this for you.” 
You walk across campus together, conversation quiet and light. He tells you a little about his day, and in return, you share a few details about some of the essays you’re trying to write. When you get frazzled about it, he changes the subject and starts cracking jokes, trying to distract you, and it works. 
It’s dark on campus, not another soul around, and out of nowhere, it suddenly starts to rain. You squeal, reaching up and quickly tugging your hood over your head as fat raindrops splash over your face. Tom isn’t so lucky—cursing as he rummages through his bag and finds no umbrella. 
A smirking grin finds his face as he reaches for your hand and grabs it, winking as he says, “Run!”
Loud laughs escape you as you run across campus together, in the dizzying direction of one of the car parks. Your lungs burn and your face is cold, but his palm pressing up against yours is warm and gentle. He’s like an anchor, tying you down, keeping you from floating off too far. 
When you eventually collapse into the passenger seat of Tom’s old BMW, your chest heaves as you suck in breath after breath. His curls stick to his forehead, flattened down from the wind and rain, but his eyes dance with amusement. 
“British weather,” he scolds, “I hate how fast it changes its mind.”
You nod. “Very rude,” you agree. You put on your seatbelt as he does the same. 
“Where do you live?” He asks, drumming his slender fingers over the wheel. 
You pull your phone from your pocket. “Uh, 24 Appleacre Road. Let me just check the postcode— oh, fuck.”
“What?”
You frown as your tired eyes take in the text from your friend. 
“My housemate has her boyfriend over,” you groan, slapping a hand to your forehead. “She says I can’t come back for three hours.”
Tom chuckles. He reaches up to scratch the back of his head, and your eyes find themselves drawn to the curve of his bicep. After sucking on his lower lip, he keys the ignition. 
“Come to mine,” he says. When you open your mouth to argue, he raises a brow. “I live ten minutes away, Y/N. You can stay the night, or I can take you back when your housemate is, uh, done. If you think I’m going to leave you here when you’re clearly so tired, you’re wrong.”
Again, you feel your heart clench in your chest. You wrap your arms around your torso, blinking at him shyly. 
“Thank you, Tom,” you mumble. You like calling him Tom, far more than professor or sir. The way his lips twitch together suggest to you that he does as well. 
“Of course, darling.” His eyes briefly flicker to you before he starts to reverse the car. “Let me look after you.”
*:・゚✧*:・゚✧ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
Tom’s place is a small flat, settled above a corner shop. He tells you that he shares it with another of the department professors, but that he’s away for the night. Instead, the only other company you find yourself with is his dog, Tessa, who throws herself at you and quickly becomes a friend.
It’s a little odd at first, to be in his house. You can almost feel the parameters of your relationship with him bending and changing as your connection deepens. He brings you tea, and a fresh change of clothes, then leads you to the bathroom and leaves you there with a soft kiss to your forehead. 
You’re used to kissing Tom, and fucking him, but you have no idea how you’re supposed to act now that you’re wrapped up in one of his old hoodies, sitting in his bed with one of his favourite mugs held between your palms. All you know is you like it. 
“Right.” Tom walks back into the room, hair slightly damp from the brief five minutes he’d spent outside with Tess. He dries off his head on a towel as he glances at you, eyes flickering over how comfortable you’ve made yourself in his bed. After collapsing on his sofa following your shower, you’d made the mutual decision to just stay at his. He’d immediately brushed off your suggestion that you sleep in the living room. “Uh, there’s a spare phone charger by your side. I can go and get you some water too, if you want it. I have a 10am tomorrow so I’ll be waking up at 9. Uh...if you need anything else, just ask.”
You chuckle as you see the very visible nerves on his face. You’ve learnt that Tom is a lot warmer at home than he is on campus. 
“I’ll be fine,” you say. You drain the final drops of hot chocolate before sinking into the right side of the bed, hitting at the spare space beside you invitingly. “Get in.”
Tom flicks off the big light before padding over to his bed. His room is small but cosy, much like his office, with books covering almost every surface. Stuck to the wall are several sticky notes, each wearing his scrawled handwriting. They fall dark when he turns off the bedside lamp too, and you hear him pull off his shirt and sweats before sinking into bed beside you, groaning loudly. 
You turn so you’re on your side, facing him with your head resting over his very soft pillow. It smells so strongly of Tom’s shampoo that it makes you smile. 
Beside you, he shifts around. After a moment, you feel his hand reach out, carefully resting on top of your hip as he hums. You curl in closer, legs gently intertwining with his. As Tom pulls you closer, you feel his warm breath coming out over the top of your head. 
“Is this okay?” He asks, voice a whisper. 
“Yeah.” You end up with your face pressing to his smooth, bare chest. A small inkling tickles the back of your mind. “You haven’t done this in a while, have you?”
“Done what?” 
“Had a girl over.”
Tom chuckles. His hand runs over your back, rubbing soothing circles there. 
“There might be an element of truth in that,” he teases. “Is it that obvious? 
You shrug. “A little,” you say. “You’re very sweet, Tom.” 
His lips brush over the top of your head. “I’m trying my best,” he murmurs. “Don’t want to make a bad impression on my guest.”
“I don’t think you could ever make a bad impression,” you admit. In fact, you think he wouldn’t ever be able to do anything that’d make you view him differently. 
“Oh, that’s certainly not true,” he jokes. His hands are warm as he pulls you closer. “Are you feeling better now?”
“Tons,” you whisper. “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Mhmm.”
“Why did you bring me home? And come up to me in the library?”
Tom’s quiet for a few moments, his fingers rubbing gentle circles on your side where your shirt has risen up. 
“You know that I care about you, yeah?” He murmurs. 
You hum. “Yeah.”
He’s very quiet. “More than… more than just a hookup.”
“More than just a student?”
“Oh, definitely more than just a student.” He’s quiet again. “Y/N, I… I adore you.”
You release a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding. It fills you with reassurance to hear those words. 
“Well…” You lean up a little, resting your head on his pillow. You let a hand drift up to cup his cheek, smiling softly as Tom nuzzles into it. “I’m quite fond of you too.”
Tom tilts his face and presses his thin lips to the palm of your hand. “That makes me happy. You make me happy.”
For a few moments, you stroke your fingers through his hair. You feel drunk on this kind of unfiltered honesty that comes with midnight confessions. 
“I feel as though things have changed,” you whisper. They have—you can feel it in how tenderly he’s holding you, in how warmly he’s looking at you, obvious even in the dark. 
“Is that a bad thing?” He asks. 
You kiss him, very gently, lips lingering over his. 
“No.”
*:・゚✧*:・゚✧ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
Two weeks before the end of the semester, you walk into one of the large lecture halls and see Professor Holland standing behind the large desk at the front. He’s pacing, mouth set in a hard line, and you watch the tails on his long jacket swish as he strides around the small stage, face screwed into an expression of concentration. You go straight to the front row, ignoring every habit you have of usually sinking into the middle or the back, and instead, pick a chair at the front. 
Tom has been preparing for this week all month— he’s giving two lectures, one today, and a second at the end of the week. He’d asked for your feedback on them both several times, to the point where you know the course material so well that there’s no point you even turning up, yet you’re here, dead centre, as emotional support. Even if he hadn’t asked you to, you know you’d be there anyway. 
You flash him a reassuring smile as you cross your legs and sit back in the seat. Tom’s a young professor, early in his career, and he’s still getting used to lecturing—something he’d whispered to you a few weeks ago. You know he finds it nerve-wracking, but you have no doubts that he’ll do fine—amazingly, even. You think he’s incredible. 
When the lecture hall fills up, Tom takes a breath and rubs his hands together, speaking into the microphone clipped to the front of his shirt. 
“Hello, everyone, hello, hello… I’m Professor Holland, and I’ll be talking to you today about gender in Early Modern Britain….” 
As the minutes pass by, he gets better. Stronger. You watch, biting back a proud smile, as Tom slowly sinks into it. By the time the lecture ends, he’s commanding the space well, speaking loudly and articulating clearly. He even uses some of the jokes you’d written for him. Your smile causes your cheeks to ache, and when he finishes and the class drains from the room, you linger behind. After making sure the hall is empty, you weave your fingers into his hair and kiss him—hard. 
“You did so well,” you say, grinning against his lips. “If I didn’t have another class right now, I’d stay here and—“
Tom cuts you off with a kiss. “Tomorrow,” he whispers. “Stay behind tomorrow.”
Tomorrow comes, and Tom delivers his final lecture just as well as the first. You’re in awe of him—of the way he’s so knowledgeable and open about his subject area. He answers all the questions with compassion and clarity, and, quite honestly, it’s a turn on. 
You’re treading a very fine line between hookup, friends, and something more, and though it hurts your head to think about how easily you’ve fallen into the habit of sleeping over at your professor’s place each night, you can’t deny that your feelings for Tom have spiralled. Not only do you find his body attractive, but now you’ve developed a whole subset of complicated romantic feelings, which you know you have no business harbouring. Every time you think about things going further, you remember how he’d said, all those weeks ago, that your arrangement would have to stop at the end of the semester. You know that in two weeks, it’ll all be over, and then you might never see him again—not as intimately as you’ve been seeing him, anyway. 
Despite knowing that you’re doomed, you can’t stop yourself from being attracted to Tom. Immensely. Especially when he finishes speaking and the auditorium clap, and he briefly looks to you for your approval. The smile that builds on his face as you nod brings you an aroused flush. 
Tom looks incredibly attractive, in a simple white shirt and a pair of black slacks. He’s pushed the sleeves of his shirt up his forearms, leaving his toned arms on display and highlighting the prominence of his watch on his wrist. You bite your lip as you shift in your seat, feeling a heat build in the pit of your lower stomach. You watch his fingers, slender and curved, as he runs them over the front of his desk. He stands back and leans up against the wood, and you stay seated as a few students walk down and line up, waiting to ask him some questions. 
You try to be patient, but it’s hard. The longer you wait for him, the more prominent the ache between your legs becomes. As you squeeze your thighs together, you can feel your arousal, wet and warm, lining your slit and sticking to the front of your panties. Your mind runs wild as you watch Tom from afar, remembering snapshots of times gone by—him pushing you up against the wall of his shower and nuzzling his tongue between your folds, him grasping at your hips as you rode him in your office. Your arousal consumes you, to the point where you’re almost desperate. 
Irritation is quick to meld with your lust as you watch the final student approach him. She’s tall, and very beautiful, and you know exactly what’s on her mind as she twirls a piece of hair around her finger and leans in close. Her perfume is so pronounced you can smell it from your seat so near the front of class. 
Your blood boils, and you start to quickly put away your things, ears pricking as you listen to their conversation. 
“You must be so smart to be a professor so young,” the girl compliments, voice sweet. “How does it feel being the most handsome member of the whole history department?” 
You scowl as you tug up the zip of your bag. 
“Oh, uh, thanks.” Tom’s voice is high, slightly embarrassed. He clears his throat. “If you don’t have any more questions about the lecture then—“
“Oh, I have questions.”
Your eyes widen as you watch her reach out and touch his shoulder, her palm resting there. Envy replaces all else as Tom stays still, eyes fixed to her face. 
“About the course?” He asks. 
She shakes her head. “No, professor.” She steps closer. “About you.”
You stand up quickly, throwing your bag over your shoulder as you march over to the desk. Tom’s attention shifts to you, but you don’t look at him. Instead, you cross your arms and glare at the girl. 
“If you’re finished asking your questions, I have some very pressing matters I need to discuss with Professor Holland,” you say. 
She raises a brow. “Um, well, I’m just talking with him,” she says, eyeing you sceptically. “Actually, can you go and wait outside?” Her gaze shifts back to Tom, and you shiver as you see the lust covering her eyes. “We aren’t finished yet.”
You stand up straighter, releasing a noise of incredulity. You look at Tom, only to see him standing there, ghost of a smirk on his lips. Smug bastard. 
“No,” you tell her. “This is an urgent matter. You’ve already had your turn.” You want to tell her to piss off, but once glance back at Tom makes you second guess that one. 
The girl looks at Tom. “Well, Professor Holland? Who do you want to talk to?” 
You scowl, pushing your hands into your pockets as you look at him, eyes narrowed. He’s smirking as though he’s enjoying it all too much. 
“Amanda, I think you should email me the rest of your questions. I only have limited time with this room, and Y/N should also have a fair chance to ask her questions.” 
You exhale, unable to bite back the smirk that springs to your lips. You don’t even try to hide your smugness as Amanda sighs. As she brushes past you, she makes an effort to bump your arm and whisper, “bitch,” but before you can release some of your frustration and curse her out, Tom emits a low noise of warning. 
He doesn’t say a thing, just stands there watching Amanda walk up the stairs and exit the room. When she’s gone, he turns, staying quiet as he starts to put away his things. You shift from one foot to the other, still aroused beyond belief. 
“Uh, hello?” You try, disliking his silence. It’s as if Tom is trying to ignore you. When he fails to say anything, you frown and walk closer. “Tom?” He’s standing behind the desk now, so you walk to him and approach him from behind. When you wrap your arms around him and press your chin to his shoulder, he freezes. “Professor?” You try again. You lean up and kiss at his neck, craving him, your arousal back at full throttle. 
Tom reaches down and grabs at your hands, grip strong as he pulls your touch away from him. He’s quick to turn, flipping your position until you’re the one leaning against the desk, with him looming above you. His eyes are dark—almost black with arousal, glistening with hunger and a dominance that makes you whimper. 
“You’re such a little brat,” Tom murmurs. He combs your hair from your face with harsh movements, tugging hard on the strands. The pain makes you moan, but when you go to wrap your hands around his neck, he slaps them away. “So needy, darling. Couldn’t even wait five minutes to have me…”
“She was trying to seduce you.”
Tom hums, shrugging. He’s gotten a lot bolder in the way that he treats you now that he knows you and your fantasies better. The hand with his watch slips up to your neck, and he gently caresses the column of your throat with his fingers before wrapping his hand around you. He chokes you lightly, and you rub your thighs together. 
“And?” He coos. “You tried to seduce me, all those weeks ago. Look where we are now…” His other hand drifts down and slips beneath your skirt, rolling up to touch you over your panties. Your moans come out strangled as he drags his middle finger over the soaked material, laying special attention on where it’s clinging to your clit. “Needy little whore, getting wet when I choke you. So desperate for your professor’s cock you’d be rude to one of your classmates...” 
When he dips his hand beneath your panties and curves two fingers into your entrance, hot and pulsing, you cry out loudly. The noise echoes through the hall, adding with the wet sounds of your pussy as he plays with you. 
“Sir,” you whimper. He’s still gripping your throat, and the bruising pain makes it all better. His lips are firm as he drops them to your neck and bites a few hard hickeys over your flesh. “Sir, please.”
Tom curves his fingers and you gasp, squirming as he lets them roam over your g-spot. He touches you just right, the pressure exactly what you need, and your eyes flutter shut as you feel your climax draw near. 
“Oh? You think you’re going to be allowed to cum? No, baby.”
Your eyes snap open as you pout. “But—”
“Shut up.” Tom releases your throat. As you gasp for air, he shoves three fingers into your mouth, causing you to moan again. You suck on his digits, shifting around as his other hand continues to thrust into you, perfectly angled. “You spent all lecture undressing me with your eyes, then you were greedy with sharing me. Now you’re acting like you have any say in what I give you.” He tuts, and it’s just mean enough to make you weak at the knees. “If you think you have any say in what happens next, you’re wrong.”
You whimper around his fingers, feeling hot everywhere. 
“You gonna cum, lovie?” He murmurs, voice softer. You nod, and for a brief moment, you think he might let you. Instead, he just kisses your cheek and smirks as he pulls away. His fingers vanish from your mouth as his other hand comes up, glistening with your juices. Tom smears your arousal over your lips before taking his hand away and licking over your mouth, tongue never entering you, just teasing you as he moans and enjoys your taste. The entire situation makes the heat between your legs throb. 
“Please, Tom,” you whimper, forgetting to address him how he likes. 
He shakes his head. “My office. Now.” He pushes you back, dropping all contact with you. When he peeks back over his shoulder, cheeks flushed with want. “If you can’t address me properly, I don’t want to hear another word from you.”
It’s almost humiliating, having to trail behind him over campus, unable to say a word. You wonder if anyone around can tell how aroused you are, or if they somehow know that he’d pulled your panties off and shoved them into his bag. As wind whips around the bottom of your skirt, you find your hands batting it down, arousal heating every part of you. 
The first thing Tom does when he brings you back into his office is throw you over his lap, your palms resting on the scratchy carpet floor as his large hands grab at your ass. Your skirt is flipped up, your centre bare against his legs, and your eyes burn with tears as you wait for him to do something—anything. 
“You’ve been a very bad girl,” he snarls. His fingers move over your ass, teasing your flesh. “And tell me, love, what happens to naughty girls like you?”
You bite your lower lip to stifle a moan. “They get punished, sir.”
“Count for me, then.” 
He teases you for a few moments, his touch light before he brings it away completely. You stay still, and then a loud whimper passes by your mouth when he spanks you. The sting burns into a pulsing ache. 
“One.”
“Good girl.”
Tom repeats the action several more times, and you jolt in his lap as you take it, murmuring out a few words of thanks after each. You can feel your slickness, pooled at your entrance and dropping down your folds, and you’re almost certain it’ll soak his trousers. You know he likes it—you can feel his cock, digging into your legs, and he’s told you as much, in the past. You also know that he gets even more riled up when you call him sir. Sometimes you act up like this, just so he gets to live out one of his fantasies too. 
“S-Six,” you moan, voice wrecked. “Thank you, sir.”
He pries your legs further apart, manhandling your pulsing body with ease. You moan even louder as he drags two fingers through your slit from behind, casually dipping them into you. 
“What’s this?” He coos, teasingly. “Little devil getting wet when I spank you?” He thrusts his fingers a few times before adding a third, and you moan deliciously at the stretch. “Shush.” Tom spanks you again and you clench around his fingers. 
With his hand continuing to fuck you, Tom uses the other to reach down and rummage through his bag. A moment later, his hand comes around and he pushes you panties from earlier past your lips, gagging you. You moan around the fabric as he spanks you again, soothing each mark with his fingers.
It goes on for a while, until you’ve got tears running down your cheeks and your skin is burning. Tom draws his hands over your flesh, kneading and soothing, before bending over and kissing your skin as you whimper. 
“Get on the floor, sweetheart.” 
He pushes you down onto your knees, and the carpet rubs your skin. You feel like a mess—face roasting hot, cheeks coated in your tears, lips bright and puffy from your gnawing, but he looks at you like you’re beautiful, curving his hands over your face and flicking away your tears. His index fingers come away stained black from your mascara. 
“So pretty.” Tom tugs the panties from your mouth and you suck in a breath, curving into his thumb as he presses it into your mouth. “Such a needy little thing. Always want something in your mouth, don’t you?” A moment later, he’s unclipped his belt and his cock is held in his hand. He smirks. “Tell me how badly you want to suck my cock, darling.”
You just about melt, the inflexion of his accented voice thick enough that it makes you throb. 
“Please, sir,” you whimper, your cunt clenching. You lick your lips as you watch him skim his thumb over the tip, gathering beads of precum. “Please let me suck your cock. Please.” You even pout, looking up at him from beneath blurred lashes. “Want you to make a mess of me.” 
He chuckles. “Pretty sure I’ve already done that, love,” he says. “C’mere, though.” Tom grabs fistfuls of your hair and uses it as leverage. “Gonna fuck your face, give you everything you’ve been gagging for all afternoon. If you’re lucky I’ll fuck you afterwards, but I wouldn’t count on it.” 
He’s so mean, but you love it. Tom pulls you in and uses his grasp on your head to slam you onto his length. You groan as you take him, focusing on slackening your jaw and letting him use you however he deems fit. That turns out to be by fucking your mouth raw, forcing his tip down your throat and bringing a fresh wave of tears down your face. Obscene noises fill the office as he fucks you, head tossed back as he groans. 
“Look so perfect on your knees for me, darling. My good girl.” You look up at him, meeting his eyes as he thrusts into your mouth. “Ah, fuck.” 
He is a sight to behold—face flushed red, eyes dark. His fingers burn as he holds your scalp, grasp firm, unyielding, and his groans litter the air. You take him how he likes it—messy and sloppy, and his moans only grow in tempo. 
Eventually, he pulls out. He wraps one hand around his length and slaps it against your cheek briefly, gazing at you darkly. 
“Get on the desk,” he asks. He helps you up when you wobble, then lays you down over the wood. 
There’s a brief interlude as he sheathes his cock with a condom, and you take time to wriggle about, your neck aching uncomfortably from the angle. 
“Are you okay?” He asks, gaze softer. 
“Neck hurts a bit,” you murmur. “It’s fine though.”
Tom frowns, looking around his office until he makes a sound of recognition. He leans back, picking up one of his cardigans before leaning over you. He folds it up and then places it under your head, the angle elevating you and easing your discomfort. Next, he passes his lips over your face, following the lines of your tear tracks before reaching your mouth. As you kiss messily, his cock slides through your slit, and you part your legs wider. 
“Is that better?” He asks, lips brushing against yours. 
“Yeah,” you say. You smirk slightly. “Thank you, professor.”
Tom growls, his tip lining up with your entrance. “Thought I’d dealt with this attitude already,” he murmurs. “Guess I’ll just need to fuck it out of you.” 
You almost ascend to heaven when he finally enters you, cock working you open. You’re so slick it feels as though it’s running down your thighs, making a wet mess of everything below your waist. One of Tom’s hands settles at your waist, the other digging into the desk beside your head, and he kisses you as you slowly fall apart. 
It feels so good, after waiting for so long. Your ass burns, pain arcing out from your skin every time he ruts into you and your figure shifts. Your throat aches from the time he’d spent fucking the back of it raw, and your moans are short and raspy in response. You’re transported to another level when one of his hands dips down to your neglected clit and starts to rub—fast, your toes curling as you moan his name. Tom is interspersed with sir and professor, and in return, you get to hear him lose it as he grunts your name, his beautiful voice twisting expletives. 
“Keep clenching like that….oh god yeah….” 
You’re almost writhing on the desk. “Please, sir, fuck… please can I cum? Please.” 
“Yeah, fuck, yeah. Let me feel you squeezing around me, love. So tight, like always. Go on.”
You lose it for a few moments, back arching up as you hit against his chest and spasm into climax with a yell. It burns through you like a flood, your clit quivering as you clench around his cock, your soaked cunt pulsing around Tom as you moan his name. You hear him curse lowly, then there are repetitions of your name, honeyed and slurred, and you feel him cum too.
It’s intense, and for a while, it feels unending, just a blur of pleasure that leaves you drifting. You only come round when his lips ghost up your neck, leaving light, wet kisses that tickle you into laughter. When you open your eyes, you find him holding your face in his hands, thumbs once more smoothing away your tears. 
“Are you okay?” He murmurs, voice soft. His eyes are warmer—almost golden, his features arranged into an expression of care and consideration. Tom’s pulled out of you, but he’s still caging you in, a bicep flexed either side of your head. 
“Yeah,” you almost moan, a fucked-out grin spreading across your face. 
Tom gathers you up in his arms and coaxes you forwards. He sits back into his desk chair and you collapse on top of him, straddling him as you bury your face in his neck and inhale his familiar scent. He rubs your back soothingly. 
“Such a good girl for me,” he murmurs, voice drifting. He’s still breathless, but he’s recovered faster than you. “Perfect girl. My best girl.”
You swallow, and after a few moments of gathering your strength in the crook of his neck, you push back and face him. Your hands weave into his hair and you kiss him, very lightly. It’s warmer than before—less frantic, but still as passionate and loving. He sinks into it and your nose bumps against his as the both of you smile. Your heart swells with appreciation as Tom cups one of your cheeks. 
“You know that I’d never seriously entertain anyone else flirting with me, right?” He says, voice quiet. 
You break the eye contact, focusing instead on a plant in the corner of his room. 
“Y/N.” He brings your attention back by angling the fingers on your face. Tom presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. “You’re the only one I’ve been with, since I met you.” 
“Oh.” 
His lips pull into a quiet smile, and he presses his forehead to yours. It’s so intense you have to push down another wave of tears. 
“Yeah. Oh.” He’s so gentle with you it makes your heart ache. “And I was thinking, about, uh, next semester…”
“Yeah?” Hope replaces your anguish. 
“Yeah. If you’d like—“
There’s suddenly a very loud knock at the door, and you freeze in his arms as Tom’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead. 
“Uh, who is it?” He calls out. “I’m busy!”
“Tom, you have a class in five minutes!” It’s Harrison, Tom’s friend. 
Tom groans, dropping his forehead to rest on your shoulder. You sigh sadly, patting his back as you realise the moment has passed, and whatever he had to say to you has drifted away. 
“Sorry, love,” he mutters. Tom pulls back, eyes briefly skittering over your face. They fill with amusement, and you watch as he reaches over to his desk and picks up a key. “Here. It’s the key for the staff bathroom next door. Uh, you might want to pop in there before you go anywhere. I...made a bit of a mess.” 
You wobble to your feet and sit back on his desk, grinning. 
“Is this your polite way of telling me I look like a wreck?” You say. You aren’t offended—you can feel how messed up your makeup is, mixed in with dry salty tears. 
“I would never, darling,” Tom states. He stands and pulls on a jacket, before turning around to look at you again. His gaze softens, and he leans down to quickly kiss you on the forehead. “You’re a very cute mess, though. My mess.”
Your heart does something unexplainable as he calls you his, and you just have to follow him to the door and kiss him on his way out. 
“Good luck with your class, Tom,” you say. 
He hums, hands briefly squeezing your hips. “Thank you,” he says. “Come over later?”
You nod. 
“Of course.”
*:・゚✧*:・゚✧ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
The final two weeks of the semester go by without incident, and without continuing the discussion that Tom had started so fuzzily in the moments after he’d wrecked you in his office. 
Exams come and go. You spend most evenings hauled up at Tom’s, picking his brains, making a few innocent jokes about seducing him in order to gain access to the papers before he tells you that he’s not the one who writes them. At that point, you resort to his hugs instead, and his cups of tea. He gets you through it. 
The final event on your semester’s calendar is a history department gala, hosted in one of the oldest buildings on campus. It’s black tie and the ticket costs an insane amount of money, but it’s one of the most prestigious events on the student calendar. Both you and Tom are invited. You can’t go together, but he surprises you in the car by giving you a necklace. It’s a pendant, with a golden token on the end, and the metal matches the sparkling cufflinks that cling to his burgundy suit. You kiss him in thanks, before falling back into the activity of teasing him for how he’d chosen to wear a pair of fake glasses with his ensemble. 
The evening passes by quickly, slipping away as easily as the expensive prosecco supplied by the caterers. You stick with a few of your friends from your courses, staying separate from Tom and his crew. You can see him from across the room, though. He catches your eye a few times over the night, and each time, your heart blooms with appreciation. 
Your good mood shatters a little after midnight when Tony, your ex, finds his way over to you, stumbling and flush-faced. You haven’t seen him in a while—he’d been one of the first people to drop out of Professor Holland’s seminar once he realised he wouldn’t be able to flirt with you anymore. 
“Y/N!” He exclaims. He greets you with a sloppy kiss on the cheek, then places his hands on your shoulders. You frown, trying to shake him, only for him to shift closer. 
“Tony...” you reply, far less amused. 
His eyes are fuzzy, unfocused. “How are you? Looking very hot tonight.”
You screw your face into a frown. “I didn’t ask, but thanks,” you mutter. “I’m fine.” 
He blinks lazily a few times. 
“You know,” he says, speaking lowly like it’s a secret. “Letting you go was the worst thing I ever did. I shouldn’t have ever cheated on you.”
You roll your eyes, finally shaking him off. You step back, crossing your arms over your chest as you glare at him. 
“I don’t care,” you state. 
He holds out his hands, palms turned towards the ceiling. “Baby,” he says, pleading. “Just give me one more chance. I promise I’d never do it again. Please?”
There’s a lump in your throat that comes with a painful confrontation from the past like this, and as you stare at the face of someone you used to love so immensely, you find yourself thinking of someone else entirely. You look at your ex and your heart pangs—not with want for him, but a desire for someone else. Someone with caramel eyes and a bed of ruffled brown curls, and an accent like a god. 
Familiar cologne washes over you, and a moment later you feel his hand touch your lower back. You stiffen, then relax, your eyes finding his. 
Tom. 
“I think that it’s time you leave the party, Mr Revolori. You’re clearly incredibly inebriated.” 
Tom’s hand moves away from you as he drops any contact that could be deemed suspicious, but just the presence of him at your side is enough to ease you. 
“Who put you in charge?” Tony challenges. 
You bite your lip as Tom straightens, crossing his arms over his chest. 
“I’m a member of this faculty and the board of directors. I organised this event.”
Tony frowns. “Oh,” he mutters dejectedly. “Fine.” His eyes shift to you, and he shrugs. “See you around, Y/N. Call me if you change your mind about us.” 
You watch through glaring eyes as he slopes off into the crowd and disappears. Tom briefly touches your shoulder, trying to coax your attention. 
“Are you okay?” He murmurs, eyes full of concern. 
You sigh. How are you supposed to explain to the man you’ve been having a passionate, illicit affair with for the last three months that no- no, you aren’t okay, because you’ve just had the excruciating realisation that you’ve somehow managed to fall completely and irrevocably in love with him?
“I think I need some air,” you say instead, finding it the easier option. 
Tom nods. “I’m coming with you,” he decides. “I’m done here.” 
You smile, glancing briefly to the floor. “Are you sure?” 
He nods, elbow nudging yours as together you make your way to the exit. 
“Yeah. You look like you need someone, and… well, I think we need to have a chat.” 
You swallow deeply. “Where?”
Tom pushes open the door and holds it for you. “My office?” He offers. 
*:・゚✧*:・゚✧ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
Twenty minutes later, you’re sitting on Tom’s desk, sipping on a cup of tea. You both look out of place—draped in finery, holed up in a messy cluttered room, but somehow it works. You don’t think you’d mind your surroundings, as long as you’re with him. 
He’s got both hands on your knees, his palms still warm from when he’d been holding his mug. He’s looking up at you with those soft brown eyes, and every once in a while he pauses in his talking to press a kiss to your knuckles. With your other hand, you’re playing with his hair, his silky strands familiar to touch.
“What happened back there?” He asks after a while, voice gentle. 
You bite your lip. Before replying, you finish the final few sips of your tea. You put down the mug—red and blue, superhero-themed—and sit back on your hands. 
“Just Tony being a twat,” you say. “Nothing new.”
“I know I shouldn’t say it, because technically he’s a student, but he is a humongous dick.”
You giggle softly at the heat in Tom’s tone.
“He’s a bad guy, and he was an even worse partner.” Your eyes cast down, away from his prying gaze, and you feel yourself deflate. “I don’t know why I was ever with him.”
Tom squeezes your knees, touch firm. “You deserve so much more than him,” he says. “You deserve the world, darling.”
Your face splits into a weak smile. “Well, I am thankful to him for one reason,” you say, slowly. When Tom raises a brow, you shake your head. “He was terrible to me, but without him coming in on the first lesson this semester and ruining my mood, you probably wouldn’t have ever held me back after class, and then I doubt we would’ve ever bonded like we did.” Your words are drifting, displaying your inner monologue for him.
“Do you think about that a lot?”
You hum, bringing your gaze back to Tom. His eyes hold galaxies. “Sometimes. I think this year has been a lot better because I met you.” You’re edging in closer, wanting to say more, to tell him that you don’t want things to end, but it’s scary—even with him looking at you like that.
His fingers trail across your knees, and suddenly Tom sits up. He settles back in his chair, then hesitates before slowly pulling off his glasses. He tucks them into the top pocket of his suit jacket. 
“I was thinking a lot about us the other night,” he admits. 
“Us?” 
Tom nods. “Yeah. When you stayed over. You were in the shower, and… I don’t know, I was just... thinking.” His cheeks are a warmer shade of pink. 
“About what?” 
“Well, you aren’t in any of my classes next semester, love. I won’t see you around anymore.” 
Your mood lowers, and you nod as you frown. “No, you won’t. Didn’t… Didn’t you say that was what you wanted, though?”
Tom surprises you by shaking his head. 
“Not anymore.”
You suck in a breath, blinking a few times as Tom stands up. He pulls you to your feet, strong hands finding home on your waist as he pulls you in close until you’re face to face. 
“Hi?” You giggle, heart beating heavily in your chest. One of his hands goes to hold your cheek, and you let yourself feel optimistic. 
“Hi.” Tom kisses you slowly, letting his lips linger there. “I need to tell you something, and… And I want you to know that it doesn’t matter if you don’t feel the same, or even want to feel the same. I just need to tell you, before it’s too late, or I lose my cool, or we get interrupted again.” 
Your mouth feels very dry as you croak out a nervous, “Go ahead.”
Tom’s fingertips skim over your cheekbone. “I didn’t ever think that this would happen,” he starts. “When… When we started doing this, I thought it’d fizzle out after a few weeks. I thought it’d stay casual, and at the end of this semester, we’d go our separate ways. I’ve always felt a connection to you, Y/N, from the first moment that I saw you, but I never thought it went deeper than lust. But then… then, I saw you crying in the library—”
A small smile builds on your lips. 
“—I felt so attached to you. I had to take you home and look after you. And then, I woke up the next morning, and I saw you there, and… I knew.”
“You knew what?” You breathe out, heart in your throat. 
“I can’t say goodbye to you,” Tom admits. He squeezes your cheek as his lips brush over yours, voice falling softer as he says, quietly, as if he’s scared, “I love you too much.”
You draw him into a deeper kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck as your smile brushes you against his. 
“I love you too, Tom,” you say. The way his eyes widen and his entire body relaxes makes you smile. “I don’t want to say goodbye to you either.”
“Then don’t.” Tom runs his hands all over you—your hair, your face, your neck. He holds you so close it threatens to consume you. “I can’t promise anything, and I don’t know what the future might be like for us, but…” He blushes, thin lips jerking into a smile. “I know that if you’re by my side, as my girlfriend, we can get through it.”
“Your girlfriend, eh?” You tease, smiling softly. “I like that. Dating my professor.”
“Ex-professor,” he corrects, rolling his eyes for good measure. His bright eyes fade until they reflect nothing but love. “It would be an honour to call myself your boyfriend, Y/N. I adore you.”
And your heart just about melts again. 
“Always so chivalrous,” you coo, combing your fingers through his hair. He scrunches up his nose and you giggle, leaning up to kiss the tip of it. “Love you, boyfriend.”
“You’re so lucky you’re cute.”
“Mm? What are you going to do, punish me?”
He rolls his eyes, shutting you up with a kiss that leaves you reeling. 
“How about I take you home instead?”
“To yours?”
Tom nods. “Home.”
And you like the sound of that. You really like the sound of that. Home, with Professor Holland. Home, with Tom. 
“That sounds wonderful.”
—————
*:・゚✧*:・゚✧ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
there you go my sinful prof fantasy. I hope you liked it :’))) 
please let me know what you thought !!!!!!!!!
in particular, did you like the length...? I’ve been really enjoying writing longer pieces recently (in fact this is my longest oneshot ever wahey !!!) but it’s sometimes hard getting a read on whether or not people are willing to sink into them..? so, please let me know either way !!!
also !! I’m planning on branching out my aus in the new year, so if you’d want more prof!tom pls lmk! likewise, if there are any other aus you’d like to see, I’d love to hear about them <3
thank you for reading, and I hope that 2021 is very very kind to you :)
m-list and taglist are in my bio <3
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goldenroutledge · 5 months ago
Note
Hii! Could you do 3 "I'm so lucky" from the list d and 1 "taking each other’s hands during a stressful situation, instantly reliveing the pressure of the situation" from list b with jj please? Thank you 💙
sweet girl
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pairing: jj maybank x female!reader
wc: 2.1k
warning(s): reader has a fear of heights, swearing
a/n: it feels like it’s been forever since i’ve posted an actual imagine. this is based on one of my favorite obx scenes. probably not what you were expecting anon but i hope you like it! 💙
jj masterlist
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“I think I know how we’re gonna find out who owns that Grady-White.” John B announced to the group, pointing his finger up as he concocted his plan.
Almost in unison, you all caught onto each other’s thoughts as Kiara tossed John B the motel key. All except for Pope, who’s uneasy expression gave away his discomfort about the situation. “Are you sure? We don’t know who’s in that room.”
“We’ll never know unless we try to find out.” You advised, nudging him with your elbow as you followed Kiara and JJ down the wooden planks of the dock and back to the Pogue.
“At least you’ll only be an accomplice.” John B offered with a shrug and a wink, taking the lead of the others and hopping onto the boat.
-
“Well, this isn’t sketchy at all.” You thought out loud, the boat nearing the torn down Summer Winds Motel sign.
“This does not look like a place someone with a Grady-White would stay.” JJ added.
“This looks like a place where someone with a Grady-White would get killed.” Pope emphasized. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“Just stay on the lookout for us.” John B told him. “We shouldn’t be too long, anyways.”
“We’ll keep an eye out.” You assured him, taking a seat in your normal spot on the boat and stretching your legs out in front of you.
“Nope. You’re coming with us, Y/n.” John B stated. “Someone’s gotta keep JJ under control.”
JJ muttered some words of dispute under his breath while you scoffed, not interested in having to keep JJ in line. “I’m not a babysitter, John B. JJ can handle himself.”
“I sure can.” The blond spoke up firmly in concurrence with you.
“I think that might be the first thing you two have agreed on all day.” Kiara chimed in, more so to herself.
“Come on, Y/n. You’ve always been good at pointing things out right? What if you find something that I’m overlooking? We need your help.”
“It doesn’t seem like your partner-in-crime agrees.” You remarked, though you accepted the hand John B held out for you. “But whatever. I guess someone has to be reasonable.”
“Be careful.” Kiara warned, more so in the direction of John B. “I mean it.”
“We will.” He assured.
John B and JJ took the lead up the creaky steps, which didn’t appear all that safe, as you held your breath in passing the moldy mattresses set out along the railings of the deck. The antics of your two friends in front of you caught your attention, JJ playfully massaging John B’s shoulders.
“Just be so, careful John B.” JJ mocked in a softer tone, before cutting the act as he was shoved off by his friend. “Dude, what the heck was that about?”
“I don’t know, maybe she wants us to be careful?”
“When are you gonna stop being so oblivious and swoop on that, man?”
“Why do you care? You’re the one that’s always hitting on her.” John B pointed out.
“Of course I’m always hitting on her. She’s a super hot, rich hippie chick slumming it with us. Why, I don’t know. But who cares, bro? I know that door’s locked because I’ve tried it. Have you?”
“You need help. Not just a little bit of help, you need a lot of help. Because with any girl who has a heartbeat you just turn into a zombie.” John B jeered, mimicking zombie noises while letting his arms dangle in front of him.
As JJ opened his mouth again to defend himself, you pushed past the two boys, snatched the key and began walking ahead of them. “Can we focus? I didn’t realize this was a therapy session.”
“Don’t let your jealousy get the best of you, Y/n. It’s not a good look.” The blond teased.
“And remind me, what am I jealous of again?”
“Not being the subject of my charm.”
“Oh, please. I could go my entire life without it.” You insisted sarcastically, paying more attention to the room numbers decorating the doors.
“That’s what they all say.” JJ quipped. “But there’s no need to worry, I’ll still flirt with you too.”
“Lucky me.” You responded, going to push the key into the lock before his hand paused your movements.
“Wait, Y/n. Just barge on in why don’t ya. We have to at least knock.”
You rolled your eyes and handed the key back to John B, who also seemed fed up with the banter between you and JJ. “Housekeeping!” JJ piped up in a much higher pitch than usual, knocking twice with his knuckles.
There was no response, so you all took it as your answer to go inside. JJ of course went straight for the bags and belongings in the room, rummaging through them to find something to steal, making comments about the quality of the items occasionally. You followed him into the bathroom, to which he turned around and shined his flashlight right in your face.
“So.. I can’t even take a piss alone? What’s up with that?”
You ignored him, folded your arms across your chest and leaned against the wooden doorframe. JJ could only get on your nerves if you let him. “Finding anything?” John B shouted.
“Not with Y/n breathing down my neck.” The blond responded, reaching for a deodorant he was about to pocket from the bag of toiletries.
You slapped it out of his hand just as fast as he had picked it up. “We’re not stealing anything, JJ. Don’t even think about it.”
“Too late.” He smirked in your face, dangling a watch from his fingers that he must’ve picked up on the way in.
“Guys? You’re gonna wanna come see this.” John B called out with a dumbfounded look on his face as his flashlight shined inside a safe. The two of you followed his voice, just as in awe as he was upon seeing the cash inside of it.
“Holy shit.” JJ let out barely above a whisper. “Holy shit!” He cheered this time in a much louder but gratified tone as he looked closer, snatching a wad of cash in one hand and a gun in the other.
“JJ! Put it back!” You reprimanded, trying to snatch the stolen items away from him. He pocketed the cash, but held up the gun and began posing as if he were in an action film.
“Take a picture of me, bro.”
“And make your own incriminating evidence?” You inquired. “Yeah, good fucking idea JJ. Put the gun back.”
“All I’m hearing is that you’d miss me while I’m in jail, darling. How sweet of you.” He mocked, cupping your face with one hand to top off his dramatics.
You pushed him almost immediately, the force enough to knock him back a step or two. “Will you both shut up? I think I heard something on the window.” John B scolded, looking out the blinds to see Kiara and Pope jumping and waving their arms frantically.
“What is it?” You hesitated, fearing the worst.
John B hurried to the other window and peeked through the set of blinds extra carefully, before revealing the answer in a hushed tone. “Cops.”
As the words fell from his lips, JJ threw the window open and looked over his shoulder at you. “Well?” He gestured towards the ledge.
“Well, what? You want me to stand out there?” You questioned him as if he were crazy.
“It’s our only choice, Y/n. Do you see a fucking elevator in here?” JJ retorted, motioning for you to step through the window. “We don’t have all day.”
John B climbed through first, going to the ledge on the left, leaving the ledge on the right open for you and JJ. Unless you remained stood where you were and got caught like an idiot. Your fear of heights was never something you liked to talk about amongst the pogues, though they had an idea. JJ especially. All he would do was make fun of you for it.
“Come on, I’ve got you.” He promised, helping you step out onto the ledge with your shaky legs. All you had to do was not look down.
“Fuck me.” You cursed under your breath. Normally, JJ would’ve spoken up with a remark, but he stayed silent. He inched beside you, taking your hand in his for some support. JJ was relieved to hear your breathing lighten up, as well as your hands that slowed their trembling.
“It’s okay, Y/n. Nothing’s going to happen to you.”
“It’ll be your fault if something does. I should’ve never come up here to begin with.”
He shook his head, adjusting his footing as well. JJ nearly lost his balance, dropping your hand and clinging onto your waist, giving you a light squeeze as a result. The gun hanging outside of his pocket took a tumble and fell down with a few thuds on the surfaces it hit, leaving all three of you to squeeze your eyes shut in disbelief.
“You’re a fucking idiot. I told you not to take it-” You tried to admonish through a whisper.
“Can you shut the hell up for five minutes? I could push you off this ledge right now, y’know.” JJ hissed in return through gritted teeth.
You stayed silent, flush against the brick wall as your heart raced. Until pretty soon John B deemed it safe to go back in, your nerves calming down drastically. Just as he had done to help you out, JJ offered his hand to help you back inside the motel room. He didn’t drop it like you expected him too, either, but you were just happy to be back on solid grounds.
“Let’s get out of here.” John B stressed, interjecting your small moment.
At that, JJ dropped your hand, but still bothered to ask; “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.” You reassured him. He wanted to pick up his pace and travel closer to John B, but the sound of your voice speaking up again stopped him. “I’m sorry for what I said to you. I was stressed out.” JJ kept walking, not once acknowledging your apology on the way back to the HMS Pogue.
“You made it!” Kiara exclaimed, embracing John B as he stepped on. “And I see you two didn’t kill each other.” She commented, looking in your direction.
“Barely.” You told her. “This one threatened to push me off the edge.”
“I was kidding, Y/n. Lighten up.” JJ appealed. “Nothing happened to you did it? As far as I’m concerned I think I held up my end of the deal pretty well.”
“What deal?” Pope queried.
“The deal where as long as she shuts her mouth then I will kinda… make sure nothing happens to her.”
“You mean protect her?” Kiara corrected him, placing a hand to her chest in awe.
“Oh, Y/n. I’ll keep you so safe.” John B taunted, mimicking his friend this time, caressing the blond boy’s cheek as the gentle words fell from his lips. “I won’t let anything happen to you, sweet girl.”
JJ squirmed away from the brunette’s touch, a displeasing look on his face as everyone broke out into laughs. “That’s not what happened. And Y/n is the opposite of sweet.”
“Are you saying I’m sour?” You quirked an eyebrow, ready to fight back with him if he wanted to insult you.
“I’m saying, I should’ve at least gotten a ‘Thank you, JJ. I appreciate you not letting me fall 40 feet to the ground.’ For someone with a terrible fear of heights I thought you’d be a little more grateful.”
You chuckled, clearing your throat before taking his cheek in your hand as he did to you earlier. “JJ. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for protecting me on that ledge. I’m so lucky to have you.” You broke the soft eye contact and ended your scene. “How was that?”
You were almost afraid JJ wouldn’t receive the joke well, judging by the deadpan he was giving. But it was JJ, jokester was his middle name. He chuckled, flashing you a shit eating grin. “It wasn’t half bad. Could use some work, though.”
John B, Pope, and Kiara broke out into laughter and a conversation of their own, not paying attention to the two of you in the slightest. You awkwardly stepped to the side to leave JJ‘s personal space, gazing out onto the marsh to avoid his stare.
You figured he was doing the same, before JJ startled you with his touch on your shoulder, the other hand hovering on top of where yours rested in the back pocket of your jean shorts. He brought his head down accordingly so you could hear him, and most likely no one else. His breath was hot on your ear, sending a wave of shivers through your body. “Oh, and I almost forgot. You’re welcome, sweet girl.”
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a/n: let me know what you guys thought about this? it’s kinda growing on me lol
taglist: @ilovejjmaybank @missevi @nxsmss @cameronsrafe @msgorillagripcoochie @bibliophilewednesday @tovvaa @rudybarnes @annab-nana @babeyglo @sunsetholland @moniamaybank @outerbankspreferences @laneybobeczko-g @jjpouggues @j-j-may-bank @heartdose @eifhames @outerbankies @amourtentiaa @k-roleplay20
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hyxngjae · 3 days ago
Text
Masked (M)
cam boy!sunwoo x fem!reader
Words; 4024
Warnings; cam boy, name calling (ie. degrading), oral  
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Night one:
[Logging on... don’t forget your mask]
—— Paired with... Sushwoo ——
[Have Fun]
The person on your screen had hazel hair that sat comfortably on his head, fluffing out slightly. His eyes were shaded by the black mask that rested on his face exposing only his lips which were plump and pink. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, turning it a white colour. Then, he spoke.
“Hey kitten” his voice was deep, yet soft and welcoming. It was the type you’d love to hear whisper soft ‘I love you ‘s’ late at night, but also call you a slut while he fucks the shit out of you.
“Do you wanna play a game?”
You nodded, taking your bottom lip into your teeth while a small smirk danced on them.
“Be a good girl and do whatever I say” he huffed leaning back in his office chair his legs spread open. Can you take your shirt off for me kitten?” You obeyed, slowly unbuttoning your white top to expose your black bra that cut right in the center of your boobs. It gave you a bit of cleavage but it was mainly used for support.
“And now your pants” he growled undoing his belt buckle. You stood up and slowly tugged off your blue and green pleated skirt over your but and dropping it to the ground. You put on a little show, shaking your hips a little before adjusting your thong, making sure the straps were sitting comfortably on your hips. You could hear Sushwoo hum, telling you he likes what he sees. It was weird getting naked in front of a stranger but nonetheless, you liked it. 
His deep voice ran out once again, “Now everything else” he said eagerly unbuttoning his dark pants. You reached your hands behind you to unclasp your bra allowing it to slide off your breasts. Once again trying to entertain, you gripped your boobs tightly, then let your fingers find your nipples giving them a slight pinch. This always sent a jolt of pleasurer in-between your legs producing a wet sensation in your underwear. You wiggled your hips as you slowly pulled your underwear turning around to show your plump butt. 
“Fuck” he sighed pushing his hands down his jeans. “You’re so hot” he groaned, his eyes fixated on every part of you. You smiled at his remark, sitting back down on your bed. “I wanna fuck you... hard” he moaned through his teeth while his hand slowly began moving up and down.
“Can I see?” You asked quietly, stuffing your lip into your teeth, then pulling it out slowly. Your heat was becoming wet, and you pushed you thighs together to create some force against your clit. The boy giggled, then with a straight and stern voice whispered “Touch yourself first.” It was like he had control over you. You tilted your computer screen downwards so he could have a clear view of what you were doing, but still able to see your face. Slowly, you spread your legs, showing off all of you to a stranger on the other side of a screen. You began running your fingers through the fold of your heat, whining to your own touch. Your fingers moved in soft circles along your clit, lubricating yourself just enough to began sliding a finger inside. Sushwoo mumbled something at the sight of you beginning to roll your hips in sync with his hand.
“Fuck” you let slip, looking up to see Sushwoo aggressively pumping himself in front of the monitor. To get more pleasure, you slid another finger into yourself, curling your fingers towards you to hit your spot more intensely. His hand ran up and down his shaft quickly, spreading his pre cum over the head of his cock and down his length. Your fingers stimulated a strong feeling throughout your body, making your back arch, and your hips buckle.
“Don’t cum yet kitten” he said sternly between moans, “please be a good girl and keep going”. His head was flung backwards in pleasure, know jolting his hips upwards. Despite your rising climax, you kept pushing yourself further, continuing the rhythm with his own movements. 
“You’re a dirty little kitten aren’t you?” He asked roughly, eagerly. “Oh shit, I wanna fuck that tight pussy so bad” he groaned letting out a strong huff of air.
“I wanna fuck your mouth till choke on my cock” his voice was breathy with the slightest rasp lacing his voice. “I wanna make you my kitten”. His words forced a knot to build, and releasing all at once. Your thighs which were slightly elevated collapsed on each other, and your hips jerked forwards, pulling your back into an arch.
“Holy fuck” you whined slowing your pace with your fingers, now gently rubbing the outskirts of your heat. When you looked up, you saw Sushwoo release his himself over his hands, legs and torso and a warm mess. 
“Kitten...” he huffed, moaning into is touch, riding down his high, “thank you.”
——Sushwoo is now offline——
[Logging off...]
The Next Day:
While our professor gave us his daily lecture, you watched as Kim Sunwoo flicked his pencil up his desk, just to have it roll back down. His fingers tapped his squishy cheeks, while he puffed out his lips in a board expression. His hair was a beautiful hazel brown colour, and his skin was nearly flawless. His lips were stained with a light pink, and were big and plump, making him look pouty. Sunwoo was popular, but he never talked to anyone. He was attractive, and every girl wanted him, but no one could have him. You used to be best friends with him through primary school, but began drifting when high school hit. You’d never thought you’d become with the two boys who teased you through your whole school career, Eric and Juyeon.
They’re Sunwoo’s best friends, but you don’t ever talk to him as he seems more like a loner. You’ve only talked to him once since you stopped being friends, which was to congratulate him on graduating, little did you know, you’d be going to the same university as him, and have the pleasure of being in the same lecture as him. 
As your day dream turned faded away you heard a voice calling your name sternly. “Y/n” your prof called out, bringing everyone's attention towards you, “since you wanna zone out so much, do you mind answering this question?” He was explaining how to answer a math problem but since you weren’t listening you had no clue what to do.
“I’m sorry sir, I wasn’t paying attention” you said silently, looking over at Sunwoo who was staring uncomfortably long. His eyes seemed to be scanning your body; looking from your eyes, to your mouth, then your boobs, down your legs and back up to your face. You quickly shot your eyes away as soon as his made their way back to yours, but you could still feel the intensity of his gaze burning through your clothes. 
“You were day dreaming about Sunwoo again... weren’t you?” Your friend Juhaknyeon said in a teasing tone.
“I was not” you giggled hitting him softly, “I was just... thinking”
“Next time... try not to drool while you ‘think’”. He laughed handing you his paper to copy your notes.
Night two:
[Logging on... Don’t forget your mask]
——Sushwoo is online *Click to Talk*——
“Welcome back kitten” he smiled, sucking on his bottom lip softly, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you today”. His voice was softer than yesterday, but the words that came out of his mouth made you wet. “You made me horny during class today, the thought of me fucking you”.
You hummed softly to yourself, your face heating up at the thought of him, thinking off you in such a provocative manner. It was enough for your whole body to fill with pleasure.
“I think you’re beautiful kitten, and I can’t wait to see you fall apart for me again.” He said kindly, however his words shook your core.
“Strip for my baby” he growled in a demanding and low tone. Although you couldn’t see his eyes, you could feel them digging into your skin as you slowly slid off your clothes. He called your body perfect, and unbuttoned his pants at the sight of it. Him alone made your clit throb and your touch made your blood curdle.
“No touching yet” he ordered, stopping your hand in its tracks, “I want this night to last a life time, and I wanna fuck you forever” he moaned, thrusting into his own hand. You sat there, watching this man become angered over you to the point where he pushed aggressively pumped himself up and down, spitting kitten, baby, slut from his mouth. It felt like forever, and the longer you waited the more eager you became. You could no longer sit still. You wanted to feel him inside you. You needed to feel him fucking you.
“Sushwoo” you whined felling your clit pulsing, “can I...”
“No” he groaned, “you can when I'm done, for now I wanna fuck myself to how pretty you are, I wanna engrave the sight of you into my memory” You could feel your anticipation and eagerness build while you legs yearned to spread. Your cunt begging to be touched by Sushwoo. All you wanted was the feeling of his slender fingers shoved inside you, pleasing you. Your eyes flung from his hands pleasuring himself to his mouth parted ever so slightly releasing breathy and heavy moans. 
It felt like torture watching him, the overwhelming sensation of how badly you craved being touch. Lucky for you, with one last groan and a few quick pumps, the boy released himself, continuing to stroke himself softly. 
“Go ahead kitten” he said between moans, bringing himself down from his high. Without much hesitation, you quickly opened your legs dragging your hands down your thighs, meeting with your heat. Sushwoo’s words played in your ears “touch yourself for me baby. Show me how much you wanna fuck me.”
You gently started to touch yourself, your fingers moving to the sound of his gentle breathes. He’d whisper derogatory words while watching you slide fingers in and out of yourself giving you an immense amount of pleasure. You’d moan ever so slightly, not loud enough that your roommates could hear you. 
You felt perfect. The image of your old best friend filled your mind, Sunwoo’s soft lips touching your neck, his figure pressed tightly against your body grinding against your soft skin. Your body’s making magic together. 
Truth be told; you’ve always loved him. From his bouncy hair, soft cheeks, and his lovely physic. You crumbled at the sight of him, knowing he’ll never be yours. So caught up in these thoughts of Sunwoo, you didn’t realize you’d let his name slip between your teeth as you threw your head back in pleasure. Your face flushes with red, embarrassed by the name you moaned while fingering yourself intensely. When you looked back and the boy on the screen, a smile laced his lips and he gently touched himself once again.
“You make me crazy” his voice was very low, loving, hungry. Him now taking his cock into his hand, gently rolling his hips into his pleasure. “You make me, so hungry to touch you. I crave the feeling of you against me, me inside you” he went on, stopping to take a few breathes, “I want you, my kitten” his voice became harder, strokes becoming faster. You could feel your hands start to shake and your hips began to buckle. This stranger gives you the most intense arousal you’ve ever experienced. His words sending you to a breaking point, the knot in your stomach unwinding. 
“Holy fuck” you whined into your climax, your body buckling at the feeling of your fingers inside you. Now slowing you pace to look up at the boy in front of you, who’s head was flung backwards becoming a moaning mess. You just watch him release his white fluid on his hands, spreading it across his shaft. 
“You’re the hottest women I've ever seen” he smiled, “and I hope we can do this again soon”.
—— Sushwoo Is Now Offline ——
[Logging Off...]
The Next Day:
Today in class Sunwoo was sitting closer to you, now in your visual field when facing forward. He seemed different today then others, more focused but not on class, on you. His eyes staring at you, watching every movement.
You leaned towards Yuhaknyeon whispering “Is Sunwoo still staring at me?”. He quickly glanced up, and whispers “seems like he’s the one day dreaming about you”. You felt your face burn up knowing he’s still watching you, but why? Why’s he know paying attention to you? 
Once again, your mind wondered to why, and him and him being with you. Did he want the same or was he just silently judging you. The idea of him now taking an interest just flooded your mind, filling you with confusion, and thoughts that created an ocean of riptides and waves.
“Y/n” your prof spoke your name once again “since you day dreamed yesterday, can you answer this question today?” Oh shit, the homework. You thought to yourself panicking as you forgot to do the practice questions assigned. Luckily Yuhaknyeon slid you his paper, allowing you to read it out quietly. 
“Mhm” he hummed quietly, “thanks y/n, moving on”. You glanced back at Sunwoo who was no longer focused however, he had a smile glazed upon his lips. A very familiar smile in fact. 
After class, your worst nightmare unraveled. Sunwoo approached you staring at you for a moment before finally speaking.
“Hey y/n” he spoke with confidence, “did you need some help with math? I’ m free tonight if you want to go over those practice questioned assigned.” You face was beat red hearing his voice so calm and soft, asking if YOU wanted study help from him. Any excuse to get to talk to him was something you’d dreamt of for a while. 
“Uh, y-ya!” You said flustered looking into his deep brown eyes, while he held eye contact with you for as long as possible, then glancing down at your body and back up at you. You stumbled with you books getting a knot in your stomach, panicking over his beautiful smile.
“Alright! I’ll come over tonight, 6:30 work for you?” you could do nothing but nod trying to make sure he couldn’t see the red that danced on your cheeks. He placed a hand on your shoulder shooting one last smile before walking out of the class.
That Evening:
“Okay, so you just do this” he explained drawing a line to show you what you need to do. You followed his hand movements, copying down the equation as it goes. You never knew Sunwoo was so good at math, considering how he never payed much attention in class. Looking at him, his plump lips, gentle eyes, soft skin, the memories of last night, his name leaving your mouth as you fucked yourself. Suddenly your face flushed again, a jolt of pleasure shooting straight to your core.
You couldn’t be horny, not now, not for the boy who was simply helping you with math. Not for the beautiful boy that sat in front of you, face close to yours, body heat colliding with yours. 
“Did you get any of that? he asked shyly meeting his eyes with your curious gaze.
“Uh, sorry I was...” he cut you off.
“Day dreaming” you go shy, quiet knowing he knew you’d lost consciousness in the present moment. “What were you thinking about?”
“Uh, nothing” you said stumbling over your words, avoided his eyes by trying copying what he previously wrote down.
“Were you thinking about last night?” His voiced growing cold, “me touching myself to the sight of you, you falling apart to the thought of me? I’ve been thinking about it.”
Sunwoo was the boy in the camera, the one you’d completed submitted yourself to. The one that continuously told you how badly he wanted to fuck you, feel you. That same boy, your childhood friend just revealed he’s been thinking about fucking you. When your eyes met his again, be placed a kiss against your lips. You allowed him to deepen it, his tongue falling into your mouth exploring it. His hands found their way to your body resting ever so comfortably on your hips. “You make me so horny” he groaned into your ear as his lips travelled to your neck attaching themselves. His hands now moving, pulling your button up out of your skirt to feel your skin, eventually unbuttoning your blouse. He pulled away momentarily to look at your lean figure, to take it all in in person and not over a screen. “You’re body is so nice baby” he responded in awe while his hands wandered up your skin. His lips reattached themselves to your neck, moving slightly down to you collarbones, then breasts leaving a slobbery trail to your nipples. You huffed at the feeling of your nipples stuck between his lips while his hands danced up your thighs. He'd slowly and gently suck on your breasts switching between them every so often. Eventually he fell to his knees bringing his lips to your stomach meeting the waist band of your skirt.
"Can I?" He asked softly while sticking his fingers into the hem. You nodded allowing your bottom lip to slip between your teeth, piecing it sharply. You helped him by lifting your hips so he could easily slide your skirt off your body. His lips found your thighs and his hands met with your breasts once again. He used his frame to push your legs apart, dancing his lips and tongue up your thighs. He teased you as his fingers would gently hover over your burning women hood.
"I can't wait to please you kitten" he growled into your heat, his fingers slipping into your underwear. You shivered at his gentle touch against your womanly area, his eyes catching yours in a gaze. He brought his lips and body back up, now standing and smashing his lips against yours.
Your hands had some exploring of their own. You ran your fingers up his thigh and he hummed when you pressed your hand against his bulge growing in his pants. You were ravenous, hungry and his lips devoured you back.
"I want you to suck me off with those pretty lips of yours". Your stomach twisted with his words as he pulled your hands to his belt buckle. You slowly undid his pants enough to palm his clothed length. He groaned into your mouth at your touch, becoming eager to feel your lips on something other than his.
You slid his pants off him, his length flinging upwards towards your face. "Baby," he groaned straightening his back, "please, y/n". He spoke to you so gently , but yet, his words were so hard cut you deep.
His words had a trance on you, so sure enough you grabbed his cock moving your mouth closer to it. Slowly, you wrapped your lip around his hard length, pumping the lower parts of his shaft with your hand. His fingers wrapped into the strands on your hair guiding your movements in a way that pleased him most. He'd groan, big heaps of air feeling his lungs.
"You're so good at this" he praised you, "I love watching you take my cock". You could feel your gag reflex start to activate as he pushed his length further into your mouth. "I've been waiting for this for so long" his head flew back, and he released a low groan of pleasure. The feeling of his manhood twitching against your tongue drove you mad with desire and intensity.
You whined as he pulled your mouth away, dragging your face back up to his to devour your lips in a passion filled kiss. Before you knew it, he flung you onto the table, his body now positioned between your legs. With his lips still attached to yours, he eagerly pulled off your underwear, placing his slender fingers against your soaking heat.
"I see you want me just as bad and I want you" he teased playing with the folds of your womanhood, making you moan into his kiss. Disappointment filled your body when he stopped reaching down to his jean pocket where he had been hiding a condom. He shot you a quick "is it okay" at you, which you applied with a impatient nod. You watched your oldest friend slowly roll a condom onto himself a smile placed on his lips.
"I've never done this before" you said quietly, placing your hands on his hips before he approached you with his hard length.
"It's okay baby, I'll take care of you" he whispered into your ear while he gently dragged his tip up and down against your clit before slowly and carefully pushing himself in side you. At first it hurt, but only for a second. He gripped your hips and yanked you closer to him so he could push himself further in. His breathy moans as he pushed his hips back and forth colliding with yours made your mind go wild. He hit you perfectly in the right spot making your stomach churn with arousal. You felt his hands grip the fatty layer around your ass, pushing you harder into him, allowing himself to push himself into you.
"Are you okay" he groaned into your ear, softening his hip thrusts.
"Ya" you huffed back in one breath. His hand made it's way to your chest, pushing you backwards so you were now on your back. In a swift motion, he placed your legs onto his chest to get himself deeper inside you.
"You feel so nice kitten" he mumbled now pounding into you harder than before. The knot of pleasure built in your stomach. The pressure of his cock against your core made your body weak. His hands forcefully squeezing you as he rocking back and forth. The breathy moans, loud grunts, the random "fucks" that would escape his mouth. Everything brought you an impeccable amount of pleasure, and this moment was everything you'd dreamt of. You could feel Sunwoo's sweat dripping of his skin on to yours.
"I think..." you paused to take a breath, "I think i'm going to cum." You moaned to his touch as he pulled your face back up to his, himself back in between your legs.
"Then cum for me" he whispered with a growl, his forehead placed against yours. With his words, the knot within your core unraveled and you unraveled yourself on Sunwoo's length. Your walls tightened and Sunwoo's name once again released from your lips, but this time it was purposeful. You felt a burst of pleasure radiate from the both of you, and his stomach sank, releasing himself into his condom.
He fell on top of you, catching himself on the table. Once he had caught his breath, his lips met with yours placing a soft smooch on your lips.
"Y/n... that was incredible" he praised giving you another kiss before pulling you into a warm embrace. "I'd be lying if I told you I haven't wanted to do that for a long time." His face now covered with a red blush, "Y/n, I've liked you for a while now. Uhm, for the past like 6 years, actually". He suddenly became shy as he confessed his love for you.
"Funny, cause I've also sorta loved you for a few years" you responded with a smile, only to be met with another loving kiss and hug.
"Shall we go get you cleaned up baby?" He took your hand, helping you off the table. You and Sunwoo, your oldest friend, and now your first boyfriend, walked to the bathroom where he'd wash you and take care of you.
203 notes · View notes
oilivia · 10 months ago
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“Be a good girl and spread your legs” - w/ Kuroo, Atsumu & Suga
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request:  Ummmm, idk if you're still taking requests, but could I get prompt 20. With Atsumu, Kuroo, and Suga? Pls and thank chu!
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a/n: these were super fun to write and i somehow ended up with three very different things, but i hope you’ll enjoy! please be mindful of the tws, i’m posting them separately for each drabble. no beta! smut under the cut.
pairings: Kuroo w/ virgin reader & slight corruption; Suga w/ daddy kink & dumbification; Atsumu w/ cowgirl, wholesome
wording: 2.1k
if you want to request drabbles, i have a list of prompts here, but please read my rules first here.
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Kuroo
tw: implied virginity, fingering, oral (f receving), slight corruption
“Tetsu-” you moan softly, your hands sinking in his hair, his lips sucking at the delicate skin of your neck. That will leave a mark, but you don’t care. The fact that you are in his dorm room and his roommate could open the door any minute slips from your mind as you feel his hands knead your clothed breasts. All that matters is how good it all feels, how it leaves you wanting more, how his calloused fingers know just where to touch you.
“Be a good girl and spread your legs,” he asks, voice laced with honey. If it was up to him, he’d rip the clothes off of you, free your pretty tits so he could sink his teeth into your perky nipples. But no, he has to take it slow. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you from the start, he doesn’t want you running away from him. You’re so sweet and innocent and your body isn’t used to being touched by a man. You writhe under his fingers, goosebumps littering your skin. He won’t lie, he loves it. Even though his cock twitches painfully in his pants from the lack of friction. He’ll just build you up, steadily and patiently, until you’re on your knees begging for him to fuck you.
Kuroo can see just how shy you are, how you hesitate for a second at his command, your eyes darting to his as if you want to make sure you understood correctly. He smiles sweetly, pressing his hands on the inside of your thighs and pushes them apart slowly. He watches you intently, grinning internally when he sees how you cover your mouth with your hand, averting your eyes as if to hide from his gaze. It’s so cute how embarrassed you are.
Your chest heaves, your breathing shallow. Your whole body feels as if you have a fever - your skin’s burning up, a dull ache in your abdomen. He kneels in front of you and when you feel his finger lightly trace your clothed slit a loud whine escapes you.
He would tease you, tell you that he knows how desperate you are for his cock by the way the wet spot on your white panties grows with his every touch. But he can’t do it yet. He’ll keep the teasing remarks to himself for now, content to watch the string of slick still connecting your folds to your panties when he tugs them down. Your body isn’t as innocent as you are.
“Can I?” he asks, a playful smile on his lips when he sees you nod sheepishly.
Kuroo can’t help but grin when he sees how tight you are, how he’s barely able to push his finger past your entrance. Your moans get louder when you feel his tongue press on your clit, swiping the sensitive nub as his digit thrusts in and out of you incessantly. Will you really cum just from this?
Your walls clench, your body twisting as the pressure in your abdomen snaps, waves of pleasure rippling through you. Your juices spill on his hand as he keeps fucking into you, savoring the lewd expressions on your face as you come undone for him. You’re so beautiful, exquisitely so.
And if that’s how you react to just one finger and a few strokes of his tongue, he can’t wait to see how pretty you’ll look creaming on his cock, the fucked out expressions you’ll be making. Sometimes being patient pays off and Kuroo is sure this is definitely one of those times.
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Suga
tw: hard dom Suga, daddy kink, dumbification, infantilization, praise, edging, overstim, dacryphilia, sex toys, mentions of alcohol  
When you met Suga you thought he was just another pretty boy, nothing too special. The kind you take home to your parents or marry after you’re done experimenting.
“Be a good girl and spread your legs,” he commands, sharp eyes fixed on your body.
Turns out, his favorite pastime is watching you squirm as he fucks your brains out. All it took was stumbling into his bed one night after work, both of you drunk and lonely. And now you spent most evenings on your knees servicing his cock and waiting for him to take pity on you and stretch your walls.
You comply, opening your thighs and giving Suga a perfect view of your pretty cunt, soaked and throbbing. A small vibrator buzzes happily inside, pulling soft whimpers from your throat. He pushed it inside you on the lowest setting more than an hour ago - punishment for being late. The setting that isn’t high enough to get you off, but it’s high enough to make a mess out of your hole, to have you begging for him to let you cum.
“You look so good like this, you know? Like a dumb little baby, look how your cunny gushes.” He kneels between your legs, scooping the liquid between your folds with a finger “You like having that vibe inside you, hmm? Does it feel good?” He questions, his tone belittling. But you don’t care. All you care about is how good that tiny touch felt. You want to ask for more, but you know how much Suga hates it when you speak out of turn, so you settle on answering his question.
“I-It feels good, daddy,” your voice feels so small and broken as soft moans escape between each of your words. He smiles and your heart swells. You did good, he likes your answer. He watches you proudly. When you two met you were such a little brat. He worked so hard to make you behave, to make you into the dumb little fuckdoll that you are now. He loves you so much.
“That’s my baby. Now, tell me, will you be late again?” His palm is raised over your aching clit, ready to slap the bundle of nerves if you say the wrong thing.
“N-No, daddy,” you try. He smiles again. You sigh with relief, your chest rising and falling with your every breath, your nipples perked from the rush of emotions.
“Good girl,” he coos. His fingers find your clit, rubbing and pinching. “Is this what you want? You want me to let you cum?”
You nod desperately, cries and pleads erupting from your throat as  you feel your climax within your reach. Just a little bit more and you’ll cum. You let out a whine when he stops and pulls the vibe out of you - you were so close.
“Shh, it’s okay.” Suga tugs down his boxers, his cock springing, large and throbbing. You lick your lips in anticipation. He gets between your thighs once more, aligning his tip with your hole. He pushes it in, torturously slow. Your legs are on his shoulders, your hands pinned above your head by his strong grip. He chuckles when he sees the way you squirm, how hard you’re trying to get more of his cock inside your plush walls. “You’re such a dumb little baby, so needy for me. You can’t cum without daddy’s help. What would you do without me, hmm?”
“I-I need m-more, daddy, please,” you beg, tears welling up in your eyes. Your insides felt like they were on fire. And you were so close to the sweet release of your orgasm. If only daddy took pity on his little baby and helped her cum.
“If you’re asking so nicely.” Suga slams his hips into yours, shoving the rest of his cock against your cervix all at once. He thinks you look so cute with your salty tears streaming down your face. You don’t last long, not with the pace at which he’s rutting into you. Your mind goes blank, tongue lolling out of your open mouth, your body convulsing under Suga’s. And he keeps thrusting into you, not even letting you catch your breath. You climax again, harder than the first time, your head dizzy, body going limp. Your walls are clamming on his cock, squeezing it and milking him for every last drop of his cum.
“My pretty baby, so good for me,” he whispers as he gives you a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth. “Let me clean you up and I’ll cuddle you.” You don’t even hear his last words as you succumb to sleep, your exhaustion overtaking you.
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Atsumu
tw: cowgirl, nipple play, kinda wholesome, Atsumu says baby twice, somehow this one ended up super sweet
Were you always such a tease? Atsumu asks himself as he stares at the way your tits bounce, threatening to spill from your low-cut dress. You’re skipping towards him, huge smile on your face and arms open to engulf him in a hug. You haven’t seen each other in a while, not since you moved to a different city for your job. But none of that matters now - you’re back.
Just like you’re back on his lap fifteen minutes later. Your lips are wrapped around his, your hands playing with the hem of his pants. You taste just as good as he remembers. God, how he missed you. He sucks on your tongue, his fingers pinching your nipples. He smirks when he realizes you’re not wearing a bra. He always hated how those pesky things got in the way of his touches. You bite his bottom lip when he pulls away from the kiss and you smile, a devilish glint dancing in your eyes.
“Did I give you permission to stop?” You tease and he laughs. You’re even feistier than he remembers.
“Fuck, baby, I missed you so much,” his fingers dig into your back as he breathes deeply, taking in your intoxicating scent. “Be a good girl and spread your legs.”
He thinks your cocky smirk is adorable. “When was I ever a good girl, ‘Tsumu?” Still, you oblige, not because he asked you to, but because you want it just as much as he does. You move to straddle his lap, your hand between your bodies, stroking his cock through his pants. His mouth crashes with yours again in a sloppy kiss, tongues twisting as you swallow each other’s moans.
“You want me?” you question, your clouded eyes lying on his, mouth slightly open as you pant trying to catch your breath. His cock twitches at the hypnotizing sight - you could’ve asked him for anything right now and he would oblige.
“What do you think?”
“I think you can’t wait to bury your cock in my cunt,” a smirk plastered on your face as you reach for his boxers, rubbing your thumb in circles over his leaking tip. He hisses at the unexpected touch.
“You know I do.” Lifting yourself on your tiptoes, you pull your panties aside with a grin, placing Atsumu’s tip at your drenched entrance. You gasp as you slowly sink on his cock, relishing the way his girth spreads your ravenous cunt, inch by agonizing inch. You’re not prepped and even though you’re wet, your tight walls burn as his tip pushes inside you. But you couldn’t wait, not with his tantalizing cock finally within your grasp.
The way you’re riding him, arms wrapped around his shoulders, naked tits pressed against his taut chest is driving him crazy with lust. Why did he ever let you go? Your moans sound so sweet and he whispers your name in your ear, over and over, like a prayer. He licks at the shell of your ear and your cries get louder. You gyrate your hips, his palms resting on your waist as he meets your thrusts halfway.
“Your cock feels so good, ‘Tsumu,” you mewl as you pick up the pace, chasing your high with each slam of your hips.
“And you’re so fucking tight. Fuck, baby, look at me. I want to see your face when you cum,” your cunt is clenching snugly around his cock at Atsumu’s words. You indulge him. He watches you bend and undulate as you grind against him faster and faster. He feels his own climax build up and just as your body thrashes in his arms with your orgasm, he fills you up with his cum, his tip resting against your cervix.
“Let’s stay like this for a bit,” Atsumu mutters and you nuzzle your head in the crook of his neck, humming in agreement.
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angrythingstarlight · 10 months ago
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Not Red Riding Hood
𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎:  You’re not little Red Riding Hood, so why are the wolves after you?
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𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔:  Dark!Bucky x Reader, Dark!Steve x Reader
𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒞𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 3.5
𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: A/B/O dynamics, primal, smut 18+, dark content
𝒩𝑜𝓉 𝐵𝑒𝓉𝒶’𝒹, 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓈 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓂𝓎 𝑜𝓌𝓃
A/N: From an old abandoned challenge, def. not my best work. posting in response to an ask. 
Do not copy, rewrite, translate or post my work anywhere. No permission given to copy, translate, rewrite or post my work.
The cracked bell dings as you push open the heavy door to the costume shop. The breeze stirs the musty air, dust floating up catching rays of the afternoon sun.The dull chandelier lights casting a low white glow across the displays. Your shoes squeak as you walk across the uneven hardwood floors.
Walking around the rows of candles and books, you spot the racks of outfits on the wall. Tilting your head back, you scrutinize the different costumes. Your eyes settle on a pale blue Cinderella dress and as you reach out to take it, a gravelly voice shatters the quiet air. 
“You girls are always so cliché,”
Startled, you spring back, turning towards the voice. Laughing sharply, nervously as you rub your neck. 
An dazzling older woman stands leaning on a curved oak cane, purple robes dwarfing her small frame, her long grey braid pulled over her shoulder.
“Um, cliché”, you ask, catching your breath. 
“Yes, you girls always pick the weak ones, the sweet ones” she walks over tapping her cane before you. A hint of jasmine reaches your nose as she leans towards your face, “you’re no weak one”. Her warm smile pushing her wrinkled cheeks out, “you’ll make them earn you”.
“Huh” your brows furrowed as you stare.
She chortles, waving her hands around “ the boys, you’ll drive them crazy”. She reaches behind you and takes a costume off the wall “and you’ll do it in this”
The costume is stunning, you trace the intricate details sewn in the wide skirt,  she holds the black lace mask up, the delicate material lining up with your face.The hood tapers off into pointed ears.
“I don’t know” you trail off as you notice how low-cut the bodice is made.The Cinderella is more your style, this is bold, daring. 
“Put the mask on” she insists as she pushes the thick, yet delicate material into your hands.
Glancing at her then your hands, you slip over your face securing it behind your ears, the mask settles over the lower half of your face, curving over your nose and up the sides of your cheeks.. The material shimmers as you turn your face, your eyes glow in the mirror. A trick of the lighting, you tell yourself. 
“It’s beautiful,” you murmur gently, touching the snout.
“It’s yours” she states, taking the costume to the front of the shop. Her firm words leave no room for arguments, not that you were one to argue, anyway. 
You slip the mask off as you follow her. As she rounds the counter, you place the mask on top of the costume.As she opens the small cash register, your eyes drawn to a small clear Mason jar filled with pink candies.
 “That will be forty dollars,” 
“Wow, that’s not bad,” Looking at the detail in the bodice, you were expecting it to be out of your budget. You pull the cash out of your purse and hand it to her.
“Halloweens tomorrow, so everything’s discounted”.  As she gives you the change, her soft, wrinkled hands place a candy in yours. “take one dear, these are special”
You unwrap it, the candy dissolving on your tongue as a sweet cotton candy flavor floods your mouth. “Thank you”, you murmur,  unaware you’re swaying as the flavor fades. 
She merely nods, neatly packing  your costume into a thin black bag. She writes out your receipt in a small worn pad, ripping out your copy. Giving you the paper and the bag with a knowing smile. 
You make your way to the door, blinking at the blinding light filtering through the stained glass door. Part of you wonders when it got so bright out, you lean against the door waiting for your eyes to adjust. After a minute, you steady yourself, waving goodbye.
When the door closes, she takes your photo from her pocket and dials the number written in black ink above your smiling face. As the phone rings, she places your picture above a lit candle, smiling as your face crackles and burns.
“She’s ready,”
 “Wow” Carli squeals loudly  as you step out of the Uber. You smile, ducking your head, painfully aware of the attention her outburst is causing. She snaps a few pictures while you adjust the skirt and pull the ears over your head. Looking down at your breasts pushed up from the corset, you fight the urge to pull the tapered cape around you, instead you let it hang down your back.
“I can’t believe you actually wore it,” she exclaims, taking another picture of your breasts. 
Covering your chest, you laugh, “I had no  choice, I didn’t have time to go back and exchange it-,” you hug her, “-so, what are you supposed to be?” 
She huffs, “I am a bunny,”
You squint as you study her, her short black hair is curled, lips painted bright red, the short black dress and heels don’t exactly scream ‘bunny’. She spins around, bending over to show the tiny piece of fluff attached to her back. You burst out laughing as people walk around you. “Okay, you’re a bunny”.  
She loops her arm around your waist and pulls you through the crowd, It’s the final day of the local corn maze events before it gets closed for the season. This was your first year in this town and your only friend-the only person you knew outside of work insisted that you join here. So here you are being dragged past the long line of people. You watched in amazement as she flirts with the man at the ticket booth, leading you past the irritated crowd. 
The sweet hay tinged smell permeates the air as you walk closer to the entrance. A large, wooden cart filled with straw is parked near the front, a tall chestnut horse prances in the front. The steps to the cart creak under your heels as you climb up. You find a spot near the back, the straw scratching your calves as you wait for Carli. You look down to see her flirting with a tall brunet. The driver climbs up and takes a seat. As he grabs the reins, you lean over the side, “Carli, hurry up, he’s about to leave” you remark as you glance back. 
She mouths, “he’s cute” as she waves you off. Rolling your eyes, you turn around, leaning against the rough side of the cart. Bouncing as the horse pulls it down the trail. A man in a Jason costume across from you pulls up his makeshift mask leering at you. Shuddering, you pull your hood over your shoulders. Fighting a sudden sense of unease, you look down at the dirt path in the spaces between the bottom of the cart. 
A few minutes later, the ride lurches to a stop. “The maze starts here, take a map and a whistle, if you get lost, scared, bored, lonely whatever, blow the whistle, we will find  you,”. He drones, picking up a book.
 You wait for creepy Jason to leave first and make your way to the front. Picking up a folded map and a rusted whistle from a small basket, you look closely seeing a smear on the small mouthpiece, “Uh, do you guys disinfect these”. 
He raises an eyebrow, “here at 99 and half acre mazes we take your health seriously and we make every effort to-“ he snorts and goes back to his book. 
You sigh and drop the whistle back in the basket. When you step off the cart, he watches you over the top of his book. 
“Good luck”
When you turn back, his face is buried in the book again. You look around, starting to ask him if he said something but decide against it. 
The weathered sign planted in the middle of the entrance welcomes you to the maze. A list of warnings below it. You cringe when you notice that you’re the only one without a whistle. The smooth dirt path behind the sign splits into multiple trails. The small crowd disperse as they break off into groups heading in different directions. 
Picking the deserted path to your left, you slowly wander down the soft dirt trail. The cool breeze nipping your skin, the air clean, sweet from the hay. The full moon hangs in the darkening sky, the sunset fading before you. 
 Pulling  your phone out of the cape, you turn on the flashlight. You stroll down the path, hand rustling the stalks of corn lining the path. The maze is never ending as you continue to twist and turn in the field. The chirps of crickets grow louder,  the sounds of conversations fade in the distance.
The small symbol in the top of the screen shows your battery fading quickly. You’ve only encountered one couple about 15 minutes ago and you don’t even know if Carli came in. When you try to call her, it goes right to her obnoxiously happy voicemail. 
 Passing by a marker, you shine the light to see the faded double circles, checking your map you see that you’ve reached a corner in the far back.. Groaning at the thought of having to cut all the way through to get back to the entrance. Tucking the map into your pocket, you shake out your cape and turn around. 
A small thump to your right draws your attention to the fields, the stalks swaying
“Hello” you call out, clapping your hand over your mouth immediately thinking of every horror movie you’ve ever watched. You listen for a second, a faint muffled crunch. You back away from the field, watching the stalks of corn shake.  When it stops, you no longer hear the crickets, only the soft pants of your breaths through your nose. 
Taking two steps back, you bump into the wooden sign, shrieking through your hand. 
Another soft thump in the same direction makes you freeze. You look around, soft snapping, scrunching sounds coming from behind you. Looking back,  the tall stalks are swaying and leaning in your direction. A low howl penetrates the quiet air. 
Turning on your heel, you sprint down the past, rounding the first corner you find. Almost stumbling as you swing your body around, the tall heels wobbling under your feet. The stalks to your right shake violently, you run faster, gasping for air as your lungs burn. Your feet throbbing with each step as you navigate the turns. 
A flash of black flies in front of you. You skid to stop, swinging your arms out for balance as you scream. It takes a minute for your brain to process what’s in front of you. 
You stare at the massive black wolf in front of you. When it trots towards you, you put your hands up with a cry.  It sits down, looking into your eyes. 
“Nice doggy” you stutter as you slow inch back. The wolf tilts his head, eyes flashing, amused. You screech at the snort behind you. A second wolf trots toward you, his golden fur rippling as he moves.
 The black wolf circles you, making  you back into the stalks. You jump when you feel a cool, wet touch on your leg. They continue to move around you, forcing you to walk to the back of the maze , their bright eyes never wavering from your face. 
You keep your hands in front of you, cool tears streaming down your face, collecting under your chin. Your heart pounds in your chest, a painful ache with each furious beat.  You spot an opening in the field and leap towards it. The black wolf jumps over you and lands in front of you gracefully. You fall back shouting for help as you scramble on the dirt. Turning over, you end up face to face with the golden wolf. His snout millimeters from you, his small huffs warm your skin as he sniffs you. 
You feel a nudge against your side, more sniffing along your body. Squeezing your eyes shut as tears fall. A crunching, harsh snapping sound next to your head makes you openly sob, images of your flesh being torn apart playing in your mind. You hid your head under your arms, bracing for the bites. 
“We found you,”
Your screams are cut off by a hand on your mouth. 
“Oh, it’s okay, little one,”
The deep voice resonating within, an unknown part of you agreeing with him. Warm fingers glide across your face. Reluctantly opening your eyes, you blink at the two large nude men in front of you. Mouth gaping, you whisper, “I’m dreaming, I fell, hit my head and I’m-”
 When you feel a very real large hand on your back, you flinch, falling over to your side, bracing yourself with the palm of your hand. The blonde chuckles as you struggle to speak, only squeaking, blood rushing in your ears.
“Damn, why is she frightened?”. The first voice again. The tall brunet crouches beside you. 
You whimper when he reaches for you. He pulls back resting his hand on his knee as he pushes his hair back, he speaks softly, “Little one, I’m Bucky and that’s Steve, we’re your mates”
. He looks at you expectantly, a gentle smile on his lips. 
“I-, what”. You splutter as you crawl back, his smile dropping, disappointment marring his handsome face. Growling, Steve grabs your ankle, harshly pulling towards him. Your scream cut off as your back smacks against the ground. You cough as you roll onto your side, tucking your legs in. 
“Damn it, Steve” Bucky snarls, “she’s not like the others’ you have to be careful with her”. 
His hand cups the side of your face as you catch your breath. “You have to listen to your alphas, I know this is new to you but we’ll teach you,”
“My what, alphas” you stammer, unable to move when he unbuttons your cloak. 
Steve chuckles, “She doesn’t know,”, he turns to the other man, “No wonder she ran”. He shrugs, “more fun for us I guess”. 
HIs laugh cuts off when Bucky sneers, a low rumble emitting from his chest. The force of it making that newly awakened part of your brain terrified even more than before.You whimper again, quieter, the sound catching their attention. 
He settles in front of you, a soft smile on his lips, forcing you to look up at him. As he gazes into your eyes, something in you stirs. His eyes light up with recognition. He reaches into your pocket and removes your phone. He glances at the screen before tossing it in the field. 
“It’s almost time,”
He stretches out beside you, placing a leg over yours. You hold your breath waiting for him to move, he only touches the side of your face with his fingertips, ignoring the way you cringe. Steve plops down on the other side. You don’t look back. Deciding the crazed man in front of you is your safer choice. 
“Please let me go ‘’ you whisper to Bucky, “please, I won’t say anything, no would believe me anyway”. You wince at the dark, low chuckle behind you. 
“Oh silly girl ” Bucky tsks as he removes your mask, using the soft material to wipe your face. 
“Please, let me go, I want to go”. You can’t decide what’s worse: the fact that you are still trying to convince yourself this is a dream, or that part of you knows it’s not. 
“I know, but you’ll forget all about that in a minute”, he sounds almost wistful, a stark contrast to the eagerness in his dark blue eyes. You can feel the anticipation rolling off of him. 
You open your mouth to ask what he means when a rush of heat sweeps from your core to your chest. A sweet scent fills your nose, sweeps over your tongue. You’re dizzy, off balance. His face blurs into a haze of sparking lights. Your eyes roll back as you arch off the ground.
“Ah” you cry out, hands digging into the dirt. 
“There she is” Steve mutters as you squirm between them. You toss your head as the heat intensifies. You can feel it surging through you down to your very fingertips. 
You blindly grasp for Bucky, choking out “Burns” as another wave streams through you. “Hurts so bad” you cry as you clutch his arm. 
“Fuck it coming on stronger than I expected,” 
“Hurry up, we need to take care of her now,”
You’ve never felt like this before, its overtaking every sense you have. Your skin aches with every movement, your pussy pulsating, throbbing between your legs. You reach down to ease the ache, screaming when your hand is pushed away. 
“Stop it,”
“It’s her first time, cut her a fucking break,”. 
The voices garbled above you as you reach down again, only to have your hands pulled above your head. You sob as cool air hits your skin, barely feeling your clothes being ripped away. You don’t care that you’re being exposed, or that these strangers are stripping you, all you can focus on is that burn.
They exchange glances above you, a silent conversation occurring above you, listening to your pleas as you writhe.  You need it to stop, it has to go away. Steve nods, conceding to Bucky. 
You feel your body being shifted around until you’re lying against a warm, smooth chest, his skin adding to the layers of heat building in your body. . Opening your eyes, you stare down at Bucky between your thigh, your legs hooked over Steve’s larger ones, his knees bending to open you up, your pussy dripping, the sight making Bucky feral with need.
His mouth latches on to you, a flurry of hot wet licks from his thick tongue, his mouth moving on your aching bud. Everything in you is centered on him, you rock your hips up desperate for more. Letting him take from your body until you’re moaning, chanting for him to not stop. 
“Good girl”, Steve murmurs in your ear, “ come on his tongue, do that for me little one”. His rough fingers twisting your nipples as your feet dig into the ground. Your body jerking despite strong arms holding you in place. You wail as spirals of pleasure uncoil within you until you gush over his tongue as you cum, a cool relief easing through you. 
Lifting his head, he grins at Steve, “She’s perfect, you have to taste her”. He grimaces when you whine , the heat gradually replacing the fading orgasm, “I know, Doll”.
Bucky moves back, his legs spread, palming his large cock. Your eyes latching on to the red, angry tip, the pre cum barely visible under the night sky. When he gestures for you to go to him, you panic, trying to twist away, pushing down the growing sensations in your body. 
“No” you shake your head, Steve ignores your weak resistance, handing you to Bucky. Pushing against his shoulder, you hover over his cock, trying to move away. Bucky moves your legs around him as Steve pulls your head back. 
“You don’t tell us no”. He lets go when Bucky raises his brow. 
Bucky grips his base as he lowers your hips. When you feel the tip of his cock brushing against your folds, you push up again, “Too big”, you spit out. Bucky fails to hold back a smug grin.
“You’ll get used to it”. Steve smirks, as he pushes you down, your choked wails fall from your lips as your walls are stretched, the burn ebbing between your legs. Your head drops to his shoulder, a sense of fulfillment warring with the fear in you. You feel yourself being split into two, unable to control either side. 
Bucky rubs small circles into your back, “tell me when you’re ready”. 
You sniffle into his neck as you inhale the woody scent wafting off his body, the smell comforting in a way you can’t describe.. Another wave of heat rocks you, making you shift your hips seeking relief, knowing that only he can provide it for you. A low growl in your ear vibrates through you. He thrusts up, both of their hands on you, moving you over his cock. 
As you’re taken apart, you feel pieces of you rearranging, settling. You can no longer think, only feel rough hands on your back, the soft dirt shifting under your knees, teeth scraping at your neck. Each thrust into your body.
As the pleasure builds, a strange urge sparks within you and you bite him above his clavicle. A wave of euphoria crashes against the pleasure in your core and you spasm around him. Bucky latches on your neck, his teeth pressing down but not breaking the skin, everything intensifying until you silently scream, the coil unwinding with you. 
“Bucky, you can’t knot her here”. Steve warns, amused as the frustration mounts through him, his hips shuttering to a halt. 
You vaguely hear Steve ordering you to stand, you ignore him, pressing your face into Bucky’s neck. When he grabs the back of your arm, Bucky snaps at him. 
“Give her a break, she’s exhausted”. 
“If we’re lenient now, she’ll never learn”, the sharp retort cutting through your sleep addled mind. A little voice in your head crying that he’s not happy, he needs to be happy. 
“Look at her Steve, she’s perfect, she’ll be just fine”, Bucky’s voice soothes the worry away, his hands massaging your back, your eyes drift close. 
You wake up to Bucky trying to get your bodice to stay up, furrowing your brows, you glance back at him,
“Sorry, Doll, I don’t think I can get this to stay”, he smiles gently.
Your eyes dart to Steve watching you, his eyes unreadable, your tattered skirt in his hands. You want to cling to Bucky, but he’s pushing you up, giving up on the ripped laces.
You stand, cringing when Bucky slides out of your body. Your legs feel unsteady, nearly falling backwards, you ignoring Steve’s outstretched hand, hissing for him to not touch you.
You miss the pointed look he gives Bucky. Steve tosses you over his shoulder, his hand harshly smacking your ass when you try to wriggle down. The searing pain makes you cry out, he warns you to be silent, his hand pinching your skin. 
“Steve, you have to be more careful with her”, Bucky chastises. They move swiftly through the field. You hold back your sobs, watching your chances of escape fading away with each step Reaching a tall hedge, Steve adjusts you on his shoulder, before he leaps over it. 
A black truck sits a few feet from where they land.  Steve holds on to you, while Bucky pulls clothes out of the back. Setting you down, Steve grasps your face, making you look into his cold eyes.
 “When we get home, it’s my turn, little one,”.
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sweettodo · 9 months ago
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Promiscuous.
⟿ Levi Ackerman x freader x Eren Jaeger
Includes : threesome, swearing, smut.
word count : 4,5k.
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for 300 followers, i promised i would bless you all with a few stories. this was a tough plot to come up with b/c the age difference, but i always come thru :)). enjoy. thank you for 300 friends, readers, and fans. one more story on the way, hope you like !!
Being in the scouts wasn't necessarily all that bad, especially when you had all the strong, agile men to look at all day long.
You didn't bite your tongue, the gushy, teenage girl flirtatiousness that you bestowed upon not one, not two, but a good sum of the boys you worked and trained with every day. Most of whom were your closest friends, who put up with your promiscuousness. For the most part, they fed into it, reciprocating the behavior. But it couldn't be avoided that you took a special liking towards your Captain; Mr. Ackerman himself.
Call it unnatural, call it unusual, but you had a justification for liking him so much. If he said the right thing in the right context, your knees would be shaky and weak, for instance, when he demanded you to 'shut up' half-jokingly for fooling around with Connie too much. You left training that day with a waterfall between your legs, leaving you stunned for at least a week.
The ideas in your head were endless and slightly disturbing. There was no denying you were captivated by him, and he knew it.
Not to mention he took a fondness to you too...
Well, not how you quite anticipated him too. He just believed you were a capable scout, thus him taking you under his wing with your friends. Leaving aside your whorish comments. He took your ignorant attitude with a grain of salt, not allotting you the time of the day- which only made it more of a challenge to get what you yearned much for.
He would scoff, walk away and roll his eyes, reprimanding you on behaving yourself and acting your age. You were 19, you were acting your age, 'I could be worse,' you mumbled under your breath.
Being the species of girl who was drawn to a particular type of man, power play, that sharp attitude which one with a level head and a drop of common sense would take as a definite red flag, the type of man that would punish you for being horny or bratty- you could only dream- it was also clear you couldn't bluff and say that you didn't favor the infamous Eren Jaeger: the strong-willed, wild, dominant and overbearing youthful man. He could command you to get on your knees, and you would in a flash.
Alas, you would not be seeing the pearly gates with what went through your mind about the long-haired, tall, demanding man. On the plus side-unlike Levi- Eren enjoyed the attention you gave him, he played the game with you.
And he played the game good- you liked it.
On numerous occasions, you would be more than touchy with Eren, the little 'not so serious' back rub, or a hand on his thigh under the table to make him hot and bothered. And once or twice, the rare make-out session in an alleyway while your friends shopped or by the stable of horses one time when you were sixteen. Though the sexual tension grew once you turned eighteen when you two were less apt to get in trouble for your conduct- yet you never took it all the way, liking the idea of having him on his toes every time he saw you.
Anyways, today was different than most days, you all were honored with a few days of relaxing, sleeping in, and extra time to eat and shower with no training, or missions.
Appreciating the peace, you lay in your bed buried under the blankets half asleep, taking in the unusual time of relaxation. While nearing slumber again, you're rudely interrupted. A pounding on your door riddles throughout your body, frightening you half to death, you flinch, sitting up in an instant.
"Food! y/n." oh, it was Connie.
You untangle from the blankets, sauntering to your wardrobe, and pulling out a regular old white shirt with shorts. The heat was not something to take lightly around here, you could collapse and suffer from a heat stroke if you weren't careful, so you rolled up your shorts a little and slipped on shoes, taming your hair and heading out of your messy room towards the mess hall, eyes finding your friends and groggily plunging into the bench besides Eren and your other buddies, "sleep well?" Connie laughs, you scowl at him.
"Yea! I was dreamin' about you too! Too bad you ruined it, I was just getting to the good part."
Connie laughs and shakes his head, shoveling food down into his mouth, "I don't even wanna know what that dream was about." Jean grumbles, ruffling his hair to remove it from his clammy forehead; Jean was a difficult one to crack, he usually blushed and would cut your trifling demeanor right off at the knees, he was more for Mikasa's quiet and ethical personality.
"Shut it Kirstein- I do!" Connie protests, you wink at him.
"I'll tell you when I get you alone, how 'bout that Springer?"
Eren could be heard from your left, snorting, you glance over and see his arm raise and head towards your back, yanking your bra and snapping it back against your skin, you unleash an 'ouch' and attempt to reach back and rub the area, "White shirt with a red bra underneath? Who're you tryna' impress?" You shrug.
"Captain, of course."
"More like you dressed in the dark this morning." Eren bullies.
"Captain, what?" Connie and Sasha childishly roll and bounce around in their seats, bellowing laughter while you slowly turn around to face your boss, he reiterates one more time before you chuckle and scratch the back of your neck.
"Talking about how good my boss looks today," the words that roll off your tongue make The tense up and sigh in annoyance, beginning to walk away, you pout, tilting your head, "am I wrong?"
"Keep it up, y/n, I'll have you in a cell indefinitely if you continue this adolescent behavior." He doesn't look twice at you, leaving as quickly as he came. Halting your comments right as they came flying out of your mouth, he had to have been enjoying them! Perhaps a little.
Right as the man in charge begins to leave the hall, he stops, peers his head over to meet your eyes.
"-In chains." Your eyes widen, a perverted grin growing onto your face, looking left to right baffled, 'in chains?' gawking to see if any of your friends noticed the innuendo, but it seemed they were well absorbed in their own business.
But someone heard him.
"In chains?"
You look at Eren, he shared the same shock as you, you wriggle your eyebrows and nudge his side, "I'm not the only one who heard it, so maybe I'm not going crazy." You giggle, finishing your meal and gossiping amongst your friends until it was time to go.
To pass time during the day, you all wasted hours cleaning up to your captain's expectations, finally relieving yourselves for the rest of the evening before dinner; walking down the streets of your town, stopping at the shops down the gravel streets. While everyone talks, your head is elsewhere; replaying that remark Levi made about the chains, borderline obsessing over it- rightfully so.
When he said the word 'chains', you instantly recalled the context behind his innuendo, unless you were going insane, but you had made a joke- your first endeavor at flirting with your boss, mentioning to him using the same chains he used on Eren in court a few years back, your friends condemning your extraverted behavior on the spot; when to no avail, Levi did not feed into that well, sending you to isolation shortly after. And then to Erwin's office to explain yourself... in front of him, Commander Hange, and Levi. Nonetheless, it didn't stop you from toying with the man.
You were somewhat... wild.
Enjoying the rest of your stress-free hours, you spend the evening sitting comfortably in the large common area after dinner; all of you except Eren, who didn't appear at dinner either. God knows where he was.
You lounge beside Armin and Jean, your head on Jean's shoulder per-usual.
"Jean, has Mikasa told you how good you look today?" You hum, his face is instantly soaked up in a rosy flush as he throws his hands over his ears to block your weird comments from reaching his ears, "Mikasa?" you quirk an eyebrow.
"Don't be absurd, y/n" she laughs, "Jean, don't listen to her."
"Jean, you look extra good today," you lean over closer to him, "just thought I'd tell ya'."
"Yeah, yeah." He cracks a small smile, you pat his shoulder then fall back into your seat.
"Awh- c'mon Kirstein, you know I-"
"Y/n, Captain needs to see you..." Eren's voice interrupts the chatting, his head peers into the room, you and your friends falling silent.
"You're probably in trouble again." Armin sighs disappointingly. You promptly stand, "good luck." dragging your feet towards your supposed 'escort', Meeting Eren at the door frame of the corridor, his hands stuffed in his pockets with a deadpan look, watching you begin to take lead ahead of him, "how do you know Levi wants to see me?" You question, examining him whilst walking through the hallways, up the stairs, and around the corner, a few feet away from your Captain's headquarters.
"We talked."
With an uncertain look on your face, churning with turmoil, Eren is knocking once, then twice before pushing open the engraved wooden door, 'Captain didn't even ask who it was at the door-' you furrow your eyebrows, his hand on your back, quickly whisking you into the large room, abruptly stopping in front of his desk.
Your feet are glued to the floor while Eren is closing the door. Levi stands there, propped up against his desk with his arms crossed. The room was eerily silent, you were becoming slightly intimidated. Do you stand? Talk? Sit?
The silence was unbearable.
"Do you need me-"
"I'm fed up, with your manner, cadet." Levi interrupts.
"If I may- Captain," He nods for you to proceed, "why is Eren here?" Captain was very much capable of taking care of reprimanding you on his own, you were almost irritated that Eren was lingering behind you, feeling his eyes burning voids in the back of your head, disrespectfully.
"Isn't that what you want?" Eyes doubling in size, you swerve your head to attempt and get a view of Eren, but Levi halts you once more, treading closer to you so you can look at him, "you don't need to look at Eren."
"I- I don't quite understand."
No one says anything. The air is now thick, more difficult to swallow for oxygen, you were entirely thrown off track with the way he was speaking to you, the way he was looking at you made you want to make a run for it, "Cat got your tongue? Y/n?" Chills rake up and down your body when you feel Eren's breath on your neck, sending your head flying behind you to see the blue-eyed devil almost pressed against your back, you look back at Levi frantically.
"Sit."
Without pause, your ass is planted into one of his chairs, "why aren't you being stubborn? Where's that attitude that constantly gets you into trouble?" Feeling as if you're shrinking, the two men are overlooking you, "go on."
"I- well,"
"She has nothing to say for herself, Cap." Eren looks at Levi, "told you she was all talk." He jabs, were you dreaming?
Your heart thumped out of your chest, you never dreamed of Levi taking it this far, especially when he was so professional... "y/n," Levi's finger touches underneath your chin, raising your head to look at the two men, "always teasing me when you do the same to Eren, so slutty, don't you think, cadet?"
Your mouth drops open at his use of words, finally- the game caught up to you, and you were facing the repercussions, "don't be all shy now."
"I'm not-"
"Then if you're not shy, get on your knees and show us how much you’ve wanted us.”
You hesitate to move, but eventually find yourself slowly sliding out of the chair and onto your knees, "not in my office, go in my room." Eren grabs your arm, walking towards his adjoining room, Levi opens the door and permits you to be ushered in by both him and Eren; Eren grabs you by the hair and directs you back onto your knees in front of your captain's bed, "she's so compliant now that she knows we aren't joking anymore," Levi scoffs, standing behind you while Eren is unbuttoning his jeans right in front of your eyes, a combination of anxiousness and warmth growing in the pit of your gut, looking up at him through your eyelashes, licking across your bottom lip hungrily.
"Be a good girl and open for Eren," Levi bunches up your hair from behind, removing it from around your face.
"Yes sir."
Sticking out your tongue, you try to relax your throat once seeing the size of the man, Levi's grip on your hair prevents you from getting a good look at it before his cock is nudging gently into your mouth, down your tongue, and to the back of your throat, fastening your lips around the base of his cock whilst swirling your tongue when he pulls out of your throat, groaning when your tongue works him with ease.
"So good," He hums, grabbing the sides of your face, Levi drops your hair from his hold so Eren can pick up his pace, using his hands to guide you; gagging and choking while he fucks your throat, saliva dripping down your chin, at the verge of tears, you take his length as far as you can manage. Eren grunting and huffing; only throbbing more when he sees the little tears drip down your cheeks. He heaves out of you, your tongue lolled out while strings of spit follow his cock, the men are astonished at the sight of you gasping for air, but they weren't going to tell you that.
"Are you gonna be good for me and our captain, princess?" Eren crouches down to meet your eyes, clever smile on his face, you nod and he stands you up by your armpit.
You had virtually no control over yourself, they were moving you to where they saw fit; right on your hands and knees into the soft plush sheets, "what do you want, y/n?" you listen from behind you, your head is yanked backward, Levi is there, his free hand wrapped around your jugular loosely, his shirt unbuttoned.
"I want you both to fuck me," you gasp out, they both snicker at you.
"Too easy, way too easy, such a fuckin' whore, imagine wanting both of us," Eren taunts, snatching your shorts down to your knees and lifting your shirt to grab onto the thin waistband of your underwear, "you want Jean to fuck you too? Got any other favorites?" Levi shoves you back onto the mattress, your arms catching you while Levi continues to remove your shorts from your knees, tossing them on the floor, rough hands caressing and pulling apart your ass, both men watch your panties slip in the separated cave of your ass, Eren pulling off your shirt and unclasping your bra.
"N-o, only you guys."
"Who do you want more? Me or your other little fucktoy?" Levi sneers, moving to your front, once again lifting you by your chin, keeping you still while Eren rubs his fingers against the soaked cloth. Pulling upwards against your cunt, the pressure making your clit spasm and scream for the touch of his actual fingers, looking desperate and hungry at your captain.
"I- I can't choose."
Your chest rising and falling, Eren is finally relieving you from your panties, fingers instantly meeting your folds and slipping past your entrance with his two fingers, you whine, eyes rolling to the back of your head, knuckles curving downwards to hook into you and find your sweet spots.
"Well aren't you lucky, you get both of us, even though you don't deserve it," Your captain smirks, getting on his knees, fiddling with the button of his slacks, zipping them down and pushing them past his thighs, "I think she needs to beg for it." He looks at Eren, his erection making itself known from beneath his boxers, fingers quickly scissoring the roots of your hair while he frees himself from his constraints.
"I wanna be your slut- please make me cum." They smile, pleased with your submissiveness.
Cock spilling with precum, he scooches towards your salivating mouth and holds your level to his cock, centimeters away, "so fuckin' wet, can't say I'm surprised you get off to this." Eren's tip rubbing between your folds, collecting the slick that was seeping from your hungry pussy. He pushes into you while Levi is pushing into your mouth, both holes becoming occupied by their pulsating cocks; they longed to fill you up, the torturous teasing you put them through the second you turned eighteen was bound to make them snap- you didn't know what you expected, to be honest, you asked for this.
Eren fucks you slow, savoring the feeling of you clench and suck him in further, pussy stretching from the sheer size of him, veins from the base of his cock hitting and rubbing against the very nerves that were screaming for him to go faster.
Levi fucks deep into your throat, he was about Eren's size, perhaps a little thinner, but he was no match for your throat, choking up the spit from past your throat to lube his cock further. You bring your hand up to assist you, twisting your hand back and forth- up and down while you stimulated his sensitive tip with your tongue, hollowing out your cheeks to suck him back in and repeat.
He was becoming unkempt, his mouth ajar with little moans slipping past his lips, hair dangling in front of the sides of his face while his hips bucked back and forth into the depths of your cave.
"My God, so wet."
You moaned against Levi's cock, Eren speeding up and reaching your cervix, your juices slushing and pussy squeaking while he stretches you out. When his hips connected to your backside, you only want to shrivel up more from the pace he was hitting the hole of your tight cervix. Initially, it hurt, but almost instantly it began to feel pleasurable for both you and Eren, he was reaching great lengths inside of you. He's always wanted to fuck you; almost disappointed in himself that he didn't do this before.
"Taking me so well, I can barely fit," he grunts, "you like my cock y/n? Isn't this what you wanted with your bullshit teasing?" he smacks your ass, crying out, his hips jutting back and forth against you mercilessly, sending jolts into every bone of your body.
He slaps you again, your right ass cheeks burning and tingling from the strength of his slap, "fuckin' slut, better be quiet."
Levi pulls out of your throat, finally able to audible out the loud weeps and cries, he throws his hand over your mouth, "shut up before you get us caught."
"Fuck, Eren!" you wail, ignoring Levis commands, gasps and moans fly around the room, his cock filling you perfectly to the point where you felt like you were made to shape him.
"Open." his hand is forcing your jaw open, sticking your panties into your mouth to silence you. You cry into the fabric, the coil twirling up in your stomach, clenching your walls while he drills into you, his cock rubbing against your g-spot, sending you into a frenzy.
Levi fists his cock for the time being while Eren is chasing his orgasm, knocking into you- inching you towards your orgasm. The back of your head tingling, your pussy twitching, and your stomach tightening, the room spiraling around you while you drop your head into the mattress, eyes screwed shut; Eren tearing an earth-shattering orgasm out of your body.
You see stars and a bright white consumes you, hands reaching to grasp anything, finding Levi's bicep and digging your nails into his skin for support while Eren's cock bathes in your cum, his hands pressing into the small of your back, "'boutta cum, right in this pretty little pussy." He spits, pinning your back to a better arch, you cry into the sheets when Erens thrusts loosen a little, sporadic and stabbing thrusts until he's panting and dumping a large load of his seed into your cunt, letting out moans and swears of approval. Your body convulsing, wanting to collapse.
Erin's lightheaded, dizzy and sweating, little bangs and baby hairs sticking to his soaked face, watching your cum drip down your thighs, the wetness from your pussy which had soaked his stomach, it was a fucking mess.
Everywhere.
He pulls out of you, your cream coating his cock; snatching a shirt and wiping himself clean, hiking up his boxers, "you're not done. On your back, now."
Without warning nor regard, you're pushed forward into Levi's hands by Eren to get you moving quicker; you slide onto your back, Levi takes charge and steps off the bed, hauling you by the thighs until you're at the edge of the bed, Levi pressing his hands under your thighs, holding them up and letting his cock slap against your cum-filled cunt, biting onto his bottom lip, teasing his cock into you.
He leans down, taking out the pair of underwear from your mouth, "keep quiet, understood?"
Quickly nodding and bracing yourself, happy to feel warm again.
"Did Eren fill you good?" he asks calmly, you nod.
"Yes- Levi."
Levi halts mid-thrust, peeved look on his face, "yes what, y/n?" you swallow hard, throat dry from the cloth.
"Y-yes Captain, he did." You mewl, he nods once before finishing his thrust.
"This pussy is so tight, even after he stretched you out like this?" he huffs, head dipped down- eyes filed to your pussy sucking in his cock so well; hair flopping back and forth, "I told you I was gonna do something about that mouth of yours, didn't I?"
"Y-you did, sir." You wail.
Levi didn't hold back, each of his sharp thrusts made you more tender inside, little cries fall from your swollen lips while Eren sits beside your head, big arm reaching over your face and kneading your boob, he watches them bounce slightly as Levi ruts into you. Rolling your hard erected nipple in between his fingers, "look at that face, are you gonna cum again?" you look up at Eren, who wears a smug look on his face, "are you gonna cum on Captain's cock, y/n?" you whine, trying to remain quieter under your Captain's directions.
"Gonna-" Eren's hand moves once more- over towards your clit.
This was the first time tonight you had felt this overstimulation, hissing in air and biting onto the skin of your lip, hand grasping Eren's wrist as he swirls little- yet strong circles into your clit, your mouth slacks open, “please! Feels so-" another burst of spasms erupting, thighs shaking and clenching around Levi's waist, "f-fuck me- Fuck me harder Captain, please!" You cry, walls convulsing, cum seeping out of you, down your ass and the base of his cock while he fucks you silly, Eren bringing you that much closer to a euphoric feeling again as he rubs your spasming clit.
"Yeah? You want me to fuck you like the whore you are, right?" Levi pants, cockhead rubbing against your sensitive and exhausted g-spot.
"Who can fuck you better?" Unable to audible, Eren moves faster around your num.
"Don't disobey our Captain, pretty girl- use your words." Screwing your eyes shut, the two men await your answer.
"I-I don't know- Ah!" Your back arches, core tightening for the second time tonight- body shaking as the following orgasm sends you over the moon, Eren's hand smacked over your mouth, you wail into his hand, Levi pins your legs open, leaning down to fuck into you harder, thrashing into your guts, pussy gushing around him until he is groaning and throwing his head back while he slams into you, his stomach nearly slapping against Eren's fingers, his dick twitching. His cheeks rosy and his muscles flexed.
"Fuck, so good- so tight- keep squeezing-" he breathes.
You're dazed from the rocking of his hips, he slows, catching his breath while he releases, coating your bruised walls with his cum. Your body left empty and quivering as Levi is slipping out of your cunt, Eren handing him the same shirt he used to wipe himself off with; your captain retrieving it and cleaning the amount of cum that was left on his softening dick, moving to you and carefully wiping the inside of your thighs and beaten cunt.
Catching your breath, Levi is picking his boxers up from the floor and pulling them up along with his pants, “don’t stay there forever, my sheets need to be switched.” He states, Eren reaches for your hand and helps you sit up, putting his shirt over your head and you slip through the arms, feet meeting the cold wooden floor, you attempt to stand, your knees buckling, Eren grabs you by the tricep before you land on the floor and sits you back on the bed.
“I think it would look suspicious if I carried you out of here, can you walk?”
You nod, “yeah.”
Standing again, you're able to succeed, reaching for your underwear, Eren already had it swinging around his index finger, “I’ll hold onto these.”
With no willpower to object, you just pull up your shorts and pick up your shoes.
“Walk her back, Jaeger, don't do anything stupid.”
You and Eren both leave your Captain’s office quietly, the hall empty and empty, you and he slowly walk back, you laughed at the thought about how it would be a tough one to explain why Eren was shirtless and you were- quite obviously- wearing his shirt while he holds your stained shirt in his hand.
With great luck, you and he make it without running into anyone, reaching your door, you and him enter and you shut the door behind him.
“Here’s your shirt.”
He watches you as you throw off his shirt, tossing it to him and opening a drawer, and grabbing one of your own.
Before you realize it.
“Uhm, Eren, I forgot my bra.” Glancing down at your bare chest, Eren shrugs it off and laughs.
“Captain wanted to keep something too, princess.”
1K notes · View notes
yaomomvs · 8 months ago
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— BEING INARIZAKI’S TEAM MANAGER AND A SECRET VOLLEYBALL PLAYER
inarizaki x f!manager
this is part of a hcs series, let me now what team you want next <3
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okay so actually you ended being the manager because the girls volleyball team had already closed the application time
so you you were really looking forward to it and omg you were so sad about it
after being rejected, you were just peacefully going through the gym and you heard laughter from a bunch of guys
you recognized kosaku since he was in your class and waved at him.
and so, they were talking about getting a manager since this team is pretty much a lot to handle
and so since kosaku knew you were hard working and that the first idea that popped out oh his head was that if you wanted to try out.
kita respectfully introduced himself and asked if you were willingly try out 🥺🥺🥺 like what a man 🥺🥺
and mostly because the twins having fangirls always made this process kind of difficult, so instead kita and aran wanted to make sure it was someone who at least was trusted by one of them
and not to brag but bestie you are gorgeous
so it was a win win
atsumu refused to this because as the jerk he usually is, he said that he didn’t need any help
that son of a bitch
he was being soooo petty mainly after you said “oh don’t worry kita, idiots are not my type”
osamu fell in love with you ❗️
and aran
and suna
and well the team.
and so, looking at the other court where the girl vbc was training you said that it was something.
every! single! practice! is! chaotic!
but somehow you managed them so well
atsumu is still trying to prove that he doesn’t but oh boy he is the first one to requiere your help
you better believe this guys are your simps and are constantly competing over someone who a year ago could never imagine they had
your attention? the best way to prove each other they were superior
in away games, god bless the idiot that wants to even dares to try to do a move on you
they are lowkey intimidating
not but seriously
specially and surprisingly kita and aran
son como esos niños mamones fresas que de cierto modo les tienes miedo
besides
this team? over the moon for you
and tbh, they were so grateful for you, you did a lot for them that they started to feel some kind of embarrassing how before they wouldn’t know how to do basic stuff like cooking for camps, labeling they jerseys correctly, searching for new equipment like they love you
anyways that however was kinda sus to them
it all started when somehow you learned so quickly, and the technical stuff was not hard to understand as to others
surprisingly the first one to notice was suna
you could have said something but tbh
you still look forward to play volleyball like more seriously even as a hobby
BUT
BUT
you’d rather be dead than telling your team that’s what you wanted because
a) they could think you only joined to learn volleyball and not help them
b) you had your pride, you want to be recognized by your own merits rather than “of course, they are inarizaki’s manager if they weren’t they could have never been this good”
so you still played volleyball but hid from them
there was a gym nearby where constant tournaments were held
you were a ghost because knowing damn well your boys could go there at any moment you decided to take some precautions
like nickname and position was everything they knew about you
your teammates loved you, so they respected your private life, and it was kind of cool
but what you were not expecting is that for some reason, omimi had followed you one day bc you forgot something after practice.
being a friday it meant for some weird reason you always rushed out
“sus” suna says everytime
so he catches you going out to the gym and maybe, he thought, you were just going to workout or see someone
BUT THIS GUYS EYEBALLS ALMOST FALL WHEN HE SEES TOY RUSH AND TAKE OFF YOUR SCHOOL UNIFORM SHIRT AND TIE TO FUCKING REVEAL A JERSEY WUTH A #3 on it
bye you broke him
and so he tries to process it normally
key word: tries
and here we are him being interrogated by the team incredulous to his words.
ay first they interrogated him being overprotective by the fact that he was spending more time with you but when he tells them what he saw god dammit
they loose it when they find out.
and so, tsumu says something that everyone agrees with him for the first time
“let’s go and spy”
“i swear to god if y/n finds out...”
“shut up aran, unless you want to make it obvious and reveal our identity dumbass!”
“tsumu, the disguises are awful”
“come on kita not you too!”
“what if”
“akagi shut up all of you agreed with the idea”
“osamu you suck”
and so there they go. trying to find you in the sea of people at the entrance, not having a clear view yet, they only search for the navy blue and white uniform that omimi described to them when he saw you.
and then almost as if it was the gods plan, they started hearing whispers of people around mentioning the arrival of one of the most popular teams out there.
“come on what the big deal-” suna started saying, however your figure appeared and he instantly turned into a babbling mess.
as well as the rest of inarizaki vbc.
osamu had to double check to assure himself that it indeed was you, beautiful as ever, walking alongside your hot and apparently talented team.
minutes later, they were standing in the bleachers as quiet as they could. they spotted you.
“A SETTER” atsumu jumped of his seat and had to be scolded by aran who was also surprised by the position you were going to be playing.
“wasn’t expecting that” ginjima talks saying what everyone was currently thinking.
behind them was a couple of guys, who apparently did not know how lower their comments.
“the setter is kinda cute” “wow look at that” oml please even aran who was the voice of reason had the urge to punch them in the face.
still they decided to just focus on your game who has now been started. and even tho they wanted to not do it, they couldn’t help analyzing you and your moves in the court. it was natural, well because they were players and very good ones it’s inevitable for them to compare and to study the way you played more than anything.
they were not expecting you to be this good. almost everything in your technique was polished, your tema work was remarkable and god bless your ability to read the blockers.
but there was a moment when they just saw the panoramic view of your skills. atsumu could see your tired expression, the sweat on your body, he just knew you were feeling now the adrenaline of the last moments of the set.
still you yelled a “we will take it” and then, with the others team hope hanging on a thread, the ball came to your libero, which perfectly passed the ball to you.
there was greed in your eyes, so scary that kita for a moment feared for the other team.
and it was when you did the setter dump that your whole team stood up in pure shock.
who were you and why were you hiding?
sadly the boys screamed way too loud which lead to you, after you made the last point and give the history to your tema, lifted up your gaze and saw a bunch of idiots wearing hats and everything in between.
suna and tsumu ran the fastest in the team directly to the gate, and the with a bunch of losers behind them,
because after everything you were there arms crossed and a murderous look in your eyes.
“IM TOO YOUNG TO DIE Y/N” “osamu shut up!”
they, once you made sure to pinch each and everyone’s ears, starred bombarding questions on how did you managed to learned that and why you did ikr tell them
“come on guys, in school i’m already looked down at just because it’s you! so could you imagine me being a inarizaki student trying to move without your name?”
kita forced them to shut up and aran felt a a kind of guilt
as week as everyone else
“don’t worry y/n, we know now what it’s like to not being your own author.”
and so, they just told you how proud they were.
“maybe we are jerks but y/n we are your jerks, and over there or respect to you has just grown up”
suna the says “you’ve been there all of the time for a while now, i guess it out time to return the favor”
and so ever since then they alwaaaaays try to be at your games
like pls once the referee said one of your serves was out and from the bleachers he screaaaaaaamed, he claims that it was definitely in
kita always gives you some food after a game or practice
talking about practice
even if you are there for being a manager they always try to, at least half an hour before ending practice, they have a quick game with you playing alongside them or just including you in their repeats etc
and goooood bless once again anyone who tried to look down at you.
because after being constantly on you games ofc people started recognizing them as the inarizaki power house
if they heard someone relying your talent on them pls make sure they five them the coldest look ever
like ‘nah bro i dare you to say that one more time’
*knive eyes*
and
even some girls attend your games trying to flirt with them
you know what they do?
they brush them off and say “sorry, my type is y/n” suna says and the are 😳
pretty much everyone does this
come on even aran
inarizaki best boys 🥺🥺🥺
1K notes · View notes
finestoflines · a year ago
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“it’s not that important”
Summary: Y/N is in Harry’s band and one night they have a drunken hook up. One thing leads to another and they find themselves engaging in a friend’s with benefits type of situation. spoiler: it is important
AKA: A friends with benefits to lovers story :) with some angst in there
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This is for @stylesharrys fallinharry10k celebration so my trope is friends with benefits! prompt is “you have no goddamn idea what you do to me. when i’m around you, i have no control of my emotions or my thoughts” and the tenth picture ^ i kinda just used it in the beginning to descripe what he was wearing - i got really carried away with this story but the prompt is in there !! lol, not proofread tho but would love your feedback !!!! :) love y’all very much 
oh boy i’ve had this done for agesss but i hadn’t written the smut until today so now we’re here i dont even remember what happens - i vaguely remember not loving the end but I hope yall enjoy
Word Count: 15.4k (longest fic to date) | Warnings: smut, angst, fluff, alcohol consumption? i dont remember but i dont think theres anything too heavy in here.
-
“Hey Harold!” You smile as you easily hop over the side of the couch and settle beside your bandmate.
Harry groans, yet can’t keep the small smile off of his face when he sees it’s you. “How many times have I told you to never call me that?”
Your eyes narrow at his faux glare. “And how many times have I told you, I simply do not care?” 
You reach a hand out and tousle his already disheveled, unstyled brown hair. Despite his lack of styling, his hair still looked perfect. His chestnut hair fell into a middle part when he did nothing to it and you found it endearing. It made him look far younger than he truly was, like a boy you might have pursued when you were in your early days at college. The waves slightly framed his prominent cheekbones and chiseled jaw that was sporting a tiny amount of stubble.
He moves his arm from around the back of the couch to pat at his hair, trying to put it back in its nondescript position you had just messed with. After he’s satisfied, he uses the same hand to push up his glasses on the bridge of his nose. They’re chestnut brown Gucci frames that match the natural highlights in his hair. You can safely assume that’s why he bought them. The lenses are clear, but you know they don’t hold any prescription. He looks incredulously at you from behind them still.
“Nice glasses,” you mention offhandedly as you reach out to the coffee table to grab the drink you had left there earlier.
Before Harry had arrived, you had been taking up residence on the couch, in the spot he had actually taken up. You had ventured to the restroom for a moment and gotten held up in a conversation when asked your preference for the Beatles. Having to defend your staunch stance for the Beatles and against the Rolling Stones, you had gotten swept up into an argument with Adam. He believed that because the Rolling Stones toured for longer warranted them the title of best rock band. While you countered that despite their long touring and production of music, the Stones had a rotation of members. The Beatles maintained the four of them and held such a large impact even though they were barely together for a decade. They were one of a kind, or at least the first of their kind, you’d allow. You weren’t really in the mood for intellectual conversation tonight, so upon seeing Harry taking up your seat, you had told Adam you’d continue the discussion at a later date and returned to your spot.  
“Thanks,” Harry mumbles as his gaze flits around the room. He wasn’t sure if you were actually complimenting him, but he would take it as one either way.
The rest of your friends are all up and about, drinking, talking, dancing. It was the usual house party scene: a relatively intimate gathering, music you all actually liked, some friends of friends feeling slightly out of place. There was no pressure in this type of gathering but still Harry wasn’t necessarily in the party mood tonight. Usually, Harry was the one instigating these types of get-togethers with his friends and bandmates. He liked to be the life of the party, but as the tour loomed closer and closer, he felt some tinge of longing for quiet and solitude. He knew he wouldn’t have much quiet while on the road, which mostly didn’t scare him. He loved the stage and the high he received from performing and the gratification he felt from all the people in the room being there to see him. But there was also that other part of him that liked the quiet, the privacy. As the lack of alone time nudged itself around the corner, he had been hoping to enjoy solitude, or at the very least peace before he was on the road. Some sort of blissful state before technical chaos ensued. When Charlotte, the host of tonight’s soiree, had texted their group chat about tonight, Harry had politely declined. Then came the slew of private texts from Charlotte giving him all the reasons he should come tonight. He tried to say no again, but had shown up after the continued begging from her.
His appearance mirrored his expression, choosing a not perfectly fitted white t-shirt and random trousers rather than picking something he really loved, like usual. You could tell something was up and as his friend you were wondering what was wrong with him.
“Don’t sound so excited, Harry, someone might mistake you for somebody who’s happy to be here.” You stick your tongue into the side of your cheek, gauging his reaction.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re not very funny?” He quips, green eyes flashing to meet yours.
Your banter is probably how the pair of you communicated the best, never really falling into the whole serious side of friendship. You never shared those late night talks about the future or your fears. It was a fun friendship, so you didn’t fancy yourself one of his closest confidants. When it came to music, you and Harry were a bit more serious which formed a sort of paradox because the music you would share with each other gave a far greater insight into your souls than you probably realized. As a member of his band, you would discuss his music and what was going on with that sort of business part. But the sharing and discussion of other music that you did was part of your friendship, even if you didn’t see it like that. Because of the countless albums you had recommended to each other and the specific songs you had made note of, Harry and you knew each other much better than you thought you did. Music connects to something deep inside yourself and you have to like it enough and know the other person well enough to believe that they will also enjoy it to recommend it. As much tongue and cheek that you partook in with Harry, deep down, unbeknownst to either of you, you were that friend he shared his hopes and fears with, through the way he knew best, music.
“No, most people find me hilarious...”
You take a sip of your drink, trying to cover up the sting that his remark actually left. Most of the time you were great at keeping up with anyone’s banter, especially Harry’s, but tonight you weren’t feeling it. His tone had sounded so harsh it almost sounded like he meant it. His features soften when he sees the way your face falls, despite your sarcastic tone.
“‘M sorry. I’m just not in the best mood tonight. Didn’t want to come, but Charlotte…” He shifts to face you, arm retracting slightly around the couch, landing his hand at the edge of your shoulder. His fingers fiddle with themselves absentmindedly, he turns his rings around his fingers and they ever so slightly brush against your shoulder. You don’t mind, you know its his nervous tick that he did whenever he didn’t have something to clink them against.
“Yeah, same here, actually.” Your tuck an out of place hair behind your ear, returning your gaze to Harry, who’s tilting his head at you curiously. “But might as well make the most of it, though. After all, this is our last week before tour starts.” You raise your glass and tilt it towards him before taking a sip.
You really didn’t have a plan, you were just trying to make him feel a little better. It was seldom you saw him so solemn at this type of gathering. He usually was the one bouncing from group to group, entertaining everyone with his dazzling charm and quick wit. Sometimes he would bring a date and spend the night with them in the corner, but that was usually at bigger parties than this. At these types of gatherings you often found yourself talking with Charlotte for most of the night. You were both new additions in the band and you had clicked immediately. You would travel in a pair between different groups and talk with everyone. Sometimes you would tell a humorous anecdote about your life and everyone would laugh wholeheartedly. Your ability to retell a story and make it hilarious every time seemed to be your secret talent. You could make any experience into a ten-minute retelling and it always sounds like the funniest moment of your life. It ranged from your embarrassing audition for Grease as a tween to your supermarket run in with an old acquaintance or B-list celebrity the day before. It didn’t matter what it was, it just always had the entire circle of people laughing and wiping their eyes with joy. You’d laugh a little with themselves, but usually you just had a triumphant smile on your lips for the rest of the night.
He nods, sipping his own drink for the first time since you had settled down beside him. “Well, I’m all ears.”
“What?”
“Give me your suggestions on how to make the most of tonight.”
“Drinking, mostly, was my plan,” you laugh nervously as Harry continues to stare at you intently.
“Mostly?”
“I mean, what do you want me to say? I didn’t think to pack my bouncy castle, my bad.”
He bites back a laugh but lets some air escape his defined nose, before staring with a deadpan face at you.
You like to tease him. You simply liked him. Harry was different from other men you knew. You were pretty sure most people could say that though. Harry was just different. It seemed like no one could not have some sort of affection for him. With the playful friendship the pair of you had, you always skirted the edge of flirtation. But you also didn’t particularly ever want to cross any lines with him. He was the employer of you, technically. He had brought you into his backing band and you wouldn’t do anything to harm that position. As well, at the end of the day you knew Harry. His tendencies and the choices he made.
When you were around him at parties like this, you had to try really hard to keep him at an arm’s length. Because on one hand, you would drink and suddenly the boundaries you put up didn’t seem that important, instead his lips started to look rather inviting, but on the other, you knew that he was extremely emotionally closed off to any relationship that was more than either friendship or a one night stand.
Harry doesn’t give you a response, just swings back his drink. The pair of you sit and drink in silence. Before you know it, Harry and you are five drinks in, finally talking after the second. The pair of you decide to move to the balcony outside and continue your conversation there after the third. After the fourth, you're getting really handsy and by the end of the fifth, Harry’s arm is wrapped tightly around your waist and you're laughing breathlessly into his neck. It looks like he’s just shielding you from the cold night air, but both of you seemed to be enjoying each other’s embrace for other reasons.
Finally catching your breath, you lean back and pant softly as you meet eyes with Harry. His pupils have blown out from the alcohol and dark light. The emerald green barely surrounds the black and you swear there’s flecks of gold or maybe brown in them. Your brows scrunch at the revelation and Harry asks what you’re thinking. You don’t respond, too entranced and drunk to even hear him.
“Oi,” he bops your nose, “What is goin’ on in there, little lady?”
Your hand reaches up and widens Harry’s eye manually. His inebriated state has no qualms about you doing such an odd thing. “Why’s your green not actually green?”
“What?” He asks before moving your hand away from his face, it instead falls to his chest. The pair of you shift until your caged between his body and the balcony’s ledge. You pout as you stare up at him. His skin looks soft and taught over every inch of his face and neck. The urge to kiss him keeps nagging at the back of your mind. The idea keeps creeping up closer and closer and the drunker you are the less likely you are to suppress it.
“Do you want to fuck me?” You blurt out.
“Sure.” Harry isn’t taken aback. He had been thinking about asking for a while, so he was glad you had asked first, made it easier for him.
“Okay, let’s go.”
He takes you back to your place, the pair of you catching a cab the short distance between yours and Charlotte’s flats. No one blinks an eye at the pair of you leaving together. Everyone watched the pair of you sulk all night about being there and only enjoying the other’s company, so they weren’t keen on either of you staying. Charlotte was simply glad the pair of you had stayed for as long as you did.
The two of you walk casually until you’re inside your bedroom. Once inside, Harry throws you on the bed and fucks you. Hard. He’s got you spread out in more ways than you had ever thought possible. He’s got you saying things you had never even dreamed of saying. And he’s got you cumming and screaming more than you could have ever wanted. He enjoys himself as well. He loves the way you feel around him and the way your eyes look up at him while he fucks you straight into the bed. He loves the way you sound whispering dirty things and screaming his name. He loves the feel of your soft skin all over your body as he pushes deep inside you. He loves the way you’re able to rip a guttural moan from him every time he cums. And he cums three times that night. While it wasn’t quiet, he did find that blissful state he had been in desperate need of.
After the third round, Harry feels spent. He brings himself into a sitting position, legs hanging off the edge of your bed. You’re lying in your bed, completely overstimulated, cumming at least twice as many times as Harry. He scratches at the top of his head, his bicep bulging as he folds his arms around himself.
“That was fucking good, Y/N. Just what I needed.”
You can only hum in response.
Then he takes your blanket and lays it over you. After that he begins to stand up, getting ready to grab his things and go.
“You don’t have to go…” your voice raises when you realize what he’s doing.
“Yeah, I do. This was just a one time thing, yeah? I enjoyed it, but you know...”
“Erm, I guess?” You rolled to fully look at him, he was pulling his t-shirt back on now, his marked chest disappearing beneath the white fabric. “Do you really not stay over at your one night stands?”
He thinks about it as he begins with his shoes and his glasses at the same time. “Yes? Usually I don’t know the person and I don’t particularly want to sign an autograph when I leave in the morning. Best to leave immediately afterwards.”
“That was exactly why I wanted you to stay...Shit! No chance you’ll give me an autograph now? Could sign my tit, right next to your hickies.”
He laughs, automatically in a better mood after the catharsis of having sex. It was also a relief for him that you didn’t seem to be weird about the hook up. “Shut up!”
“You’re a twat, Harold.” He groans instinctively at the annoying nickname, not caring about the ‘twat’ part. “But be my guest, you can freeze your arse off while waiting for your cab outside at this hour.”
“Rude..” He mutters, standing in your doorway now. “You wouldn’t actually make your employer stand out in the cold at this time of night. I haven’t even got a jumper. Could get a cold and ruin my voice. ”
“You’re the one who says it’s best to leave immediately. Get on it, mister.”
Your hand makes a shooing movement, but he doesn’t budge. You sigh as he makes a puppy dog face - eyes wide and a puckered pout with his flushed cheeks and lips - playing into your actual kindness, that he knows is somewhere. Your sweetness that you were keeping hidden from Harry right now. Nothing was serious between you so it made sense that you were trying not to let your innate ability to care show as he’s about to walk out on you.
“Ugh, fine. Stop looking at me like that. Just grab one of my coats from the bottom right, they’re all oversized so one should fit.” He doesn’t relent on the face. “And you can stay inside until your cab comes.” You sigh and throw one of your pillows at him. He catches it easily and throws it back, much softer than your throw. “Also never pull the employer card on me again when I’m naked in the bed you just fucked me in,” you call as he looks through your closet.
Returning with a patchwork coat you had thrifted tight over his shoulders, he looks at you seriously, “Yeah sorry about that part. Definitely wasn’t trying to exert my power over you, it sounded better in my head. Meant more like you could ruin my voice and both of our jobs.”
You nod and chuckle slightly, finding how inarticulate Harry could be as an endearing trait. His explanation didn’t actually make it sound better. “The jacket fits.” You say, choosing to move forward from Harry’s weirdness, knowing he didn’t mean any harm from his initial statement.
“Yeah, thanks. I think my cab is here,” He glances at his phone, “So I’ll go...See you?”
“I’m sure.” You smile, “We do in fact work together and will soon be touring the world. Would be a bit weird if I didn’t see you.”
“Right.” He nods and adds a peace sign before he walks out of your sight. You know he’s gone when you hear the door click shut. What an interesting night.
-
Love on Tour had just started and Harry couldn’t lie. He couldn’t keep his mind off of you. You were both his most recent partner and the best he had had in a while. He found himself rubbing over the spots on his neck and clavicle that you had given particular attention to during the night you had shared together. When he went to bed it was your body he pictured to get himself off. So, after the first show he’s beelining to you at the beginning of the after party. He’s got an adrenaline high and he needs a release. You’re the solution. He’s whispering in your ear, asking if you’d like to meet him in his dressing room. Your eyes study his face when he pulls back and they widen slightly when the realization of what he’s implying dawns on you. Then you’re nodding and excusing yourself from a random conversation five minutes later.
Inside Harry’s dressing room, you find Harry already unbuttoning his shirt. He grabs your face and shoves his lips onto yours once you lock the door. As he kisses you he tries to make one thing very clear, “This doesn’t mean anything.”
“Got it.” You begin to finish Harry’s job of taking off his shirt.
He pulls back to look you in the eye, “Are you okay with that?”
“Jesus fuck, yes, Harry, just shut up and fuck me senseless again!”
He listens to you and begins to kiss down your jaw and neck. His open-mouth kisses leave a searing trail across your skin. He settles on a spot at the base of your neck and begins to suck and nip at it with vigor. You set to work on finishing his job of unbuttoning his shirt. Then you pull off your own shirt, reaching behind you to untie the bows at the back. The new skin exposed grabs Harry’s attention and he moves down to suck over the cleavage of your tits. He’s happy to be back with his ‘bosom friends’. You smack his head when he says it and he chuckles darkly, only sucking harder on them causing you to moan louder than you would like.
Once you’re both in only your underwear, you find your back pressed up against the mirror behind the dressing room counter. Harry’s body is nestled between your spread legs as he kisses down your skin. His fingers dance along the line of your thong as he looks up from beneath his lashes for position, you only push his head closer to your heat in response. He laughs mischievously before tugging them down off your hips.
“Missed this pretty little cunt...All I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout,” He mutters as he begins to latch onto your dripping core.
Your brows shoot up at the thought that Harry’s mind has been stuck on you for the past week. You definitely had thought about your drunken hook up a bit, but hadn’t thought it had left a lasting impression on Harry, you assumed he had that lovely of a night with every person he chose to spend intimate time with. These thoughts are forgotten when Harry’s warm tongue is lapping at your swollen bud. You’re already panting for Harry and now you’re heaving with moans and whimpers leaving your mouth with every lick and nip of his expert mouth.
“Fuck Harry, feels so good,” you whine as his tongue travels down your folds and swirls and dips into your hole.
He moans at your words and the way your legs squeeze at his head. His hands move to spread you open wide to maintain his control and he smirks at the way your body rolls due to the friction of his voice against your pussy.
“Be a good girl f’me,” he growls still pressed against your wet heat.
Your body rolls again as you get closer and closer to your first release. Your bite your lip trying to contain all of the sounds that are trying to escape your mouth. Harry notices the new silence and glances up seeing how you’re trying to behave. As much as he likes you obeying his words, he also wanted to hear how he was pleasuring you.
“Tell me how you feel, princess,” he demands.
“So-so good,” you hiccup as his fingers caress over your folds now as he looks you in the eyes, his lips wet with your slick. He kisses you hard, his tongue diving into your mouth and you kiss back passionately, loving your taste on his tongue.
He pulls back and your hands trail down his chest, swirling around his familiar tattoos and hair that grace his lower torso as you move. He grins, enjoying the feeling of you on him and how he was affecting you.
Soon enough, his cock is finding its way back to your glistening folds, wet with your own liquids as well as his saliva. His mouth waters at the sight. He only pushes into you a few times like this. Then he catches sight of himself in the mirror in front of him and can’t resist. He pulls out and flips you over, your squeal leaving your mouth before you can stop yourself. His dick finds your entrance once again, not wanting to be without the wonderful warmth for any longer than he must.
“Ahhh,” Harry groans when he slips back inside.
Your head throws back on your neck, the feeling of him as well as the sight of him gripping your hair in one hand and your fleshy hip in the other. His rings dig into the skin as he’s able to slam more forcefully in this position. You gasp and whine at his motions. The sounds coming from between your legs are turning you on even more and they seem to make Harry happy too. He picks up the pace and drops the grasp of your hair for a second. Your head falls down as you try to keep yourself up on your elbows.
Gripping both of your hips, Harry growls, “Look at me while I fuck you. C’mon now.”
You moan in response and tear your eyes open to see your reflections in the mirror. One hand goes up to hold onto the mirror to give yourself more traction, causing your back to arch even more. The new position has Harry’s cock slamming into you deeper.
“Fuck!” Harry practically yells and can’t keep himself from landing a harsh slap on your ass. You jump forward at the sting but his other hand keeps the pace steady. He keeps burying himself into you all the way to his base, his balls slapping at your now slick spread thighs. He rubs over the red handprint he had just left on your ass. You whimper and bite your lip, truly enjoying the sensation.
Still staring into the mirror as Harry commanded, your eyes water slightly and Harry makes eye contact with you through the mirror. You smile widely and he grins back. “This feels so fucking good. Your pussy takes me so well. Fuck…” Harry babbles, still pistoning into you. You had noticed how vocal he was the first time you had fucked, but thought it had just been the alcohol. Apparently not. But you didn’t mind, you much preferred it to partners who barely spoke or didn’t even moan. Like how were you supposed to know what was going on in their minds? With Harry, you knew he was having a good time.
A few more heavy thrusts and you felt yourself nearing the edge. Your panting was getting faster, exceeding the speed of Harry’s thrusts and he could also feel you were close. Your cunt began squeezing him tighter so he hooked a hand under your knee and brought it onto the table. He hunched over you slightly and snaked his hand to your clit. “C’mon darling, I know you're close. Can feel that little cunt putting a choke hold on my cock.” He rubs at your clit with the vigor of strumming a quick paced song on the guitar. It’s enough to overtake your senses and the laugh that had bubbled from his words turns into your orgasm moan. You try to muffle it into the arm that is holding you against the mirror to avoid a full on scream because it feels that good. You felt like you were having your first ever orgasm, it felt that new to you.
A few more thrusts and you’ve come down from it, but Harry still hasn’t finished. It’s your turn to be the partner coaxing the other to get off. “Faster, Har. Want you to cum too.” He grunts, picking back up the pace. He had slowed to let you ride out your stay. “That’s it...want you to cum in me. Your cock feels so fucking good.” You whine, meaning every word. He smiles again at you and closes his eyes, focusing on chasing his high. You watch as his smile widens to that open mouth grin, “Fuck,” he almost whispers. And there it is. There’s a twitch in his hips that mirrors his expression and then he’s pulling out and cumming on your back. His voice is now even lower and raspier than before as he babbles how good that was and how tight your pussy was. It was sweet nothings, but extremely explicit and you sighed heavily, feeling a small orgasm wash over you again. His final thrusts and voice pushing you off the cliff again easily.
The two of you take a minute to bring your breathing back to normal and Harry goes to clean your back off.
“So..how do you feel about maybe doing this regularly?”  Harry asks sheepishly as he begins to pull his pants back on.
“Like a friends with benefits kind of thing? Or bandmates with benefits, rather.” You laugh breathlessly at your not really funny joke, but you’re now truly exhausted. From the show and the fuck, you felt thouroughly worked out.
“I guess that’s what it is, yeah.”
“Yeah, sure. Sounds good.”
“You’re honestly so chill, Y/N. It’s fuckin’ hot.”
You laugh and flip your hair dramatically. You’re only in your bra and panties right now and Harry licks his lips, finding your playfulness to be a turn on. “What can I say?” You laugh.
“But like I said before...it’s just sex.” He’s buttoning up his shirt and looking at your reflection through the mirror now. He watches you slip the pants you had been wearing back on.
“Oh, Harold, I know.” On cue, he groans and turns around to face you after fixing his mused hair in the mirror. Interrupting yourself, you turn your back to Harry, “Can you tie this, sorry it’s hard for me to get the -” Harry walks to you without any hesitation and begins tying the silk ribbons on the back of your shirt. “Thanks. Anyway,” you turn to face him when he’s finished and you place both of your palms on his chest. “Trust me, I know you’ve got your issues and I’m not looking to be the girl that tries to change you. I know what this is. I only ask that you let me know when you sleep with other people, because once you do, you won’t need me.” Harry nods and you pat your hands against him. You both smile and go your separate ways when you leave the dressing room.
-
Harry and you fucked almost every night on tour. Sometimes it was right after, on the counter in his dressing rooms. Sometimes it was later in the evening in his hotel room or yours. He stopped leaving immediately after your hook ups. He never kicked you out of his room so he decided it was fine for him to stay in yours. Especially because you weren’t a stranger who would be weird with him in the morning. He also didn’t like trekking through the hotel halls late at night.
The first few times you stayed in the same bed, the two of you stayed on opposite sides of the bed, not touching after you were finished engaging in your sexual endeavours. Rigid bodies against the edges of the mattress. Then one particularly long night, filled with multiple rounds, Harry was so exhausted from his performance on stage and off that he collapsed on top of you. He fell asleep there and you didn’t particularly mind. It felt nice to be slightly compressed and held. He shifted in his sleep and when he woke up he wasn’t upset to find you nestled into his side with his arms wrapped around you. After that, cuddling sort of became part of the routine. After you were done having sex, Harry or you would get up to clean up and bring back waters. Then you would settle in his arms. Sometimes in a spooning position and sometimes you cradled softly into his chest. You didn’t talk about it, it just happened.
One night it was your head directly on top of his butterfly tattoo, one leg thrown over his lower torso and your arm snuggly wrapped around his middle. He liked to pet your hair when you laid against his chest in that way. His fingers would fiddle with the strands and you liked it because he usually took off his rings before he would do it and his hands felt so soft and delicate against you. Harry liked the way he felt when he would hold you afterwards. It was calming to fall asleep against your soft skin and feel your fingertips trace lyrics to songs he wasn’t sure the name of against his own.
No one knew about how your friendship with Harry worked. To the rest of the world, you seemed to be someone who had become another close friend in the band. You were similar to Mitch in many respects. Except for when Harry winked at you during a show, it wasn’t a friendly wink, it was a ‘this song makes me horny and I can’t wait to relieve the pressure by fucking you later’ kind of wink. You knew this because Harry had gone over and whispered it in your ear during a quick break, when you had only looked at him weirdly after he did it.
Before the show tonight, you pulled Harry aside, “So what are we thinking tonight? I feel like I might want to ride you...Haven’t been on top in a while.” In the darkness of the backstage, you crane your neck to take Harry’s earlobe between your teeth. He groans softly and grips your hips to guide them against his for a second. “Sounds fuckin’ fantastic, love.” You twitch back, releasing him immediately at the word. You always told him not to call you that and he tried to reason with you, that it was just something he called people. But you disliked it a lot, adding it to the growing list of rules the pair of you had for the do’s and don'ts of being friends with benefits with each other.
“Harold,” you groan and he steps back at that pet name. While he hated this, you refused to let him put it on the list because it didn’t cross any lines with your physical arrangement. Not that there was any physical list to put it on, it was more of a theoretical list that the two of you would speak of occasionally.
“Sorry.” He says eventually, “Didn’t mean it.” You both laugh.
You think about how other relationships were sometimes desperate to hear their partner express their love for them and you believe you’re grateful for the simplicity of your arrangement. The term relationship regarding what you and Harry were doing was also in the ‘don’t’ category on the list. If either of you were being honest, there should be no need for a list and you should be questioning yourselves why you felt the need to set boundaries if one part of it was physical and the other part was your friendship and job. If it truly was just physical why were boundaries constantly needing to be set and followed? But right now honesty was not in the cards.
-
After the show Harry gets delayed with press or fans or something that you don’t really care about. You barely read the text that he sends, only caring about the ‘sorry got held up’ and the ‘be there in thirty’.
You let yourself into his room and wait on the bed, flipping through your phone, completely unbothered by the rest of the world. When you hear a knock on the door, you don’t think twice about getting up and opening the door. You only realize your terrible mistake when it’s Mitch and not Harry standing at what you’re also just realizing isn’t your door, but instead Harry’s.
“Shit!” you say under your breath as Mitch looks at you confused.
The room is dark behind you because Harry would have just entered and gotten down to business. He might turn on a side lamp, but you hadn’t felt the need to have light on while you waited. Forgetting all of that, you had just gone to the door and opened it.
Mitch tucks some of his hair behind his ear as he stares at you. “Is Harry here?”
“Er..No?” It comes out as a question. You rub the back of your ankle with your foot, feeling nervous.
“Is he actually not here or?” Mitch trails off, narrowing his eyes at you.
“No, no he’s really not here. I’m waiting for him, too.” You rush your words, but try to remain calm.
“You have a key to his room. And you’re waiting in the dark.” He says. They’re not questions and you’re not sure just how guilty you look.
“Yeah!” You try to come up with a non suspicious response, hoping there’s a way to still salvage your’s and Harry’s secret, “He gave me his key because he wanted to talk about something and I kept it dark because my eyes always hurt after shows. Kind of like a migraine.” You scratch at your head and smile, trying to convince Mitch. He seems to believe you as he nods slowly and opens his eyes more.
There’s a little bit of an awkward silence and Mitch shifts his weight between his feet, looking at you still. Just as you're about to invite Mitch to come wait inside with you, Harry steps out of the elevator and begins to walk down the hall. His key card is already in hand and your eyes widen. Harry’s expression mirrors yours when he realizes Mitch is standing outside of his door and that you are standing with him. “Mitch!” Harry says, placing his hand on Mitch’s shoulder and sliding his key card into his back pocket with the other. Mitch turns to Harry without seeing him put away the other key card and you look at the pair of them.
“I was just telling Mitch how you gave me your key card so we could talk about...that thing.” You interject, flicking the lights on in Harry’s room as casually as possible. Harry shoots you a look about how you couldn’t come up with an actual reason for being there. You shrug your shoulders helplessly.
Mitch looks between the two of you and feels some weird tension and he’s not sure if it's always there and he’s just noticing or if something is going on right now.
“Yeah, well, I came to stop by to talk about the riff in Canyon Moon. Something is wonky with it.”
“Oh! Sure,” Harry nods to Mitch and then glances at you, “Y/N, we can talk about that other thing later. It’s not that important anyway.” His tone is so casual and nonchalant. You stare at him, thinking he can’t be serious. You had been almost sure he would send Mitch away, but instead you were being kicked to the curb. When he doesn’t say sike or anything of the sort, you nod. “Okay,” then you mumble a ‘good luck’ with figuring out the problem with the song. Mitch walks in the door, but Harry’s eyes stay fixed on your figure retreating down the hallway. He watches you disappear and is only pulled from his thoughts when Mitch calls his name from the couch in the room.
After reaching your floor, you key into your room and get ready for bed. Just as you’re about to drift off to sleep, completely alone for once in a long time, there’s another knock. This time you check the peephole, a habit you realized you were going to have to get better at. It’s Harry. You open the door and walk away immediately once he’s entered the room.
“Why are you here?”
“Thought we could still...” He follows you into the room, trying to make out your face in the darkness.
“I’m not in the mood anymore.” Your tone gives away your annoyance. You couldn’t hide that you were mad at Harry for sending you away. It made you feel weird. The way he did it so easily made you feel like you were extremely disposable and unwanted.
“I’m sorry,” he sighs as he lays down beside you. You turn to face him when he places a hand on the small of your back. You’re face to face and your noses are almost brushing. It’s not really possible to see each other’s features, but after months of hooking up you knew each other’s faces pretty well. You could reach out and pinpoint all of Harry’s freckles and moles on his face and neck right now and be correct. He could likely do the same. The theory is proven correct when he reaches out and his hand dances down your cheek. “Just thought it would be less suspicious if I didn’t get rid of him. Couldn’t make him wait either…”
“I know,” your voice is small and soft, just above a whisper, “I forgive you.” You scoot closer to him and Harry instinctively wraps his arm around you, bringing you tightly into him. You sigh into his neck and he shivers at your warm breath on his slightly clammy skin. When you lick your lips, they brush lightly against his skin. He laughs at the feeling, so you decide to press an intentional kiss to the hollow in his neck. In response, he presses a kiss to your hairline, his lips slightly chapped after the concert.
The kisses are tender, filled with that thing neither of you dare attribute to anything the two of you did in the dark. The word you told him time and time again to not call you. So is just about every touch and word that has been exchanged in this room since Harry entered it. You fall asleep wrapped up in his arms, a soft smile resting on both of your faces. Neither of you seem to mind that you didn’t actually have sex tonight or anything even close to it.
-
When you wake up you feel especially well rested. You shift around and realize your bed is empty besides you. It depended on the day, but it was always a toss up between Harry being there when you woke up or not. However, lately, you had found it was usually the former. You would linger longer and so would Harry in each other’s rooms, lounging in each other’s embrace under the soft glow of the morning light peaking through whatever windows the room had. Today you were cold at his absence. Then you look up and realize you aren’t completely alone. Harry is standing at the end of your bed, staring down at his phone, smiling.
“Hey.”
You wait for his reply, but he doesn’t look up from his phone. “Hey, Harold,” you repeat. His head snaps up, a grimace on his face at the name. He slips his phone in his pocket and ruffles his hair. “Hey.” He finally responds. “I’m gonna head out.”
“Okay.”
Neither of you seem to find it necessary to talk about what happened last night. Harry definitely seemed a little off to you this morning, but you try to shake it from your thoughts. There was no reason to be upset with him being quiet. He didn’t owe you anything, you hadn’t even slept together last night, so if anything it was weird he stayed as long as he did.
It was the second night at the Forum in Los Angeles. This means no travelling necessary. No day off either, tomorrow you’d have a day off before the third and final show at the venue though.
Harry and you were talking normally at the venue, mostly about the setlist - him and Mitch had changed something for whatever reason last night, which was fine. Your banter was to a minimum, but you were trying to convince yourself that nothing was off. Even though it felt like something was different, you couldn’t place your finger on what it was, so you thought it was best to ignore it.
When Harry is about to go out on stage, you don’t pull him aside and when he introduces the members of the band to the audience, he doesn’t say anything fun or silly about you. He doesn’t wink or come up to you at any point in the performance. It’s so unusual the rest of your bandmates are giving you funny looks. Charlotte looks at you from across your keyboard in a way that she’s asking if you’re okay. You shake your head at everyone trying to signal that you’re fine.
Mitch goes over to Harry and whispers in his ear to check in with him, Harry looks at him with a bright smile on his face and says “of course, why wouldn’t I be?” Mitch looks between the pair of you, thinking back to last night and how weird the pair of you were being then. Maybe it dawns on him then what might be going on between the two of you, but if he did, he wouldn’t mention it for a long time.
You falter a bit on your back up vocals tonight. You’re trying to give it your all, like always, but for some reason your voice isn’t sounding the way you want it. About halfway through the show, when your voice comes out the exact opposite of how you would like, Harry finally gives you a second glance. His face practically emotionless, save for the single arched brow. He’s concerned, but not concerned enough where he would go over to you. He just doesn’t understand why you keep missing the right note tonight. You make a shake of your hand to say I don’t know either. He just shrugs and turns back around to continue the show, his lively smile returning while he turns his head.
After the show, Charlotte, Sarah, and you are all checking in, going over what had happened during the show in general. They’re both worried about your voice and you’re simply trying to tell them that it was just an off night. Nothing was wrong. As long as you told everyone else that, then it might turn out to be true.
“It’s fine, maybe I didn’t get enough sleep last night,” you fib, having gotten more sleep last night than most other nights on this tour. They both nod, seeming to take that as a reasonable answer.
Then Charlotte gets quieter as she whispers to the three of you, “Did you guys notice anything weird with Harry? He was super lively, but he barely interacted with you, Y/N, which is so unlike him...”
Sarah nods while you look skeptically on. Sarah adds, “He kept looking up to the boxes, too. More than usual at least. I don’t know though…” She trails off and you cross your arms over your chest, not really enjoying the conversation topic. “I mean, what do you think, Y/N?” Sarah adds.
Your eyes dance between the two women, your fellow bandmates, your friends. You sometimes wished you could share with them what you were doing with Harry. The secret was fun, but it’s also nice to be able to share with your girlfriends about the guy you’re seeing, even if it is a casual thing. The friendly gossip of it all is something fun to share, but sadly that was another thing you couldn’t do. You sigh, “You never really know what’s going on in his mind, y’know. He’s just Harry.” Your response is half-assed at best. You figure they’ll both give you shit for the non-answer you just supplied, but instead someone else speaks for them.
“I am in fact, just Harry.” He says and you swivel around to find yourself almost chest to chest with him. Charlotte laughs while Sarah simply smiles. Your eyes are huge as you stare up at him and you hope your blush doesn’t come out too strongly after being caught talking about Harry by himself. “Enlighten me on when I was being ‘just Harry’ though?” You bite your lip and take a step back from him, forming more of a line with the other women. He shrugs when no one offers a response, laughing lightly.
“Oh and Y/N, I can’t talk about that thing again tonight, I’ve got-”
“A date?” Charlotte asks, trying to understand why Harry was acting a little different tonight still. The part that Sarah had mentioned about him looking up into the boxes had given her the idea that he might have plans with someone after the show. Harry scratches his head, his hair slightly wet with sweat right after the show. He’s taken off his coat so he’s just in the almost completely unbuttoned, sweat soaked shirt he had been wearing underneath. It sticks tight to his skin and you can make out all the muscle lines that hide beneath the fabric that you usually get to caress. Your eyes flit from his body back to his face when he speaks again.
“Erm, I wasn’t going to phrase it like that...but yes, I suppose, it’s a date.” He says finally, he avoids your eye contact and you look at him very confused, trying to hide the hurt. He shoves his hands in his pockets trying to look and sound as casual as possible and ignore the strain he sees on your face. Is that what had held him up yesterday? Making plans with someone else? And he hadn’t told you until now? The past twenty four hours stung a little bit more now that you knew why Harry was being so distant. It simply felt icky finding out this way and it didn’t even seem like he was going to tell you it was a date.
“Okay,” you say simply and walk away. You hear Charlotte asking him details about his date, but you try actively not to hear any of it. Sarah watches you walk away and sees the way you wrap your arms around yourself to comfort you. She feels a twinge of sadness as she watches the scene unfold, seeing something she hadn’t realized was there before.
Harry doesn’t text or call you that night. You hang out with everyone else for a little while in Charlotte’s room before heading to bed, saying you think you need an early night tonight. Before you’re able to walk out of the door, Mitch stops you. “I heard Harry blew off whatever conversation the two of you have been trying to have again. Just wanted to tell you I’m sorry.” You try to smile but it comes out as more of a grimace. There is no conversation Harry is blowing off, it’s simply you. “It’s fine. Like he said yesterday, it’s not important.” Mitch nods, but still looks at you with concern. What he had seen last night, then on stage today, and what Sarah had told him about your interaction after the show it all strung together in his mind. It didn’t seem unimportant at all. But he didn’t know how he could tell you that. He felt like he should talk to Harry about the way you looked when you left Charlotte’s room tonight, but he didn’t know how to bring it up to him either.
You don’t realize you’re crying until you're in the elevator, and it’s slowly rising to your floor of the hotel. You’re only one level up, but it feels like an eternity in there. You already weren’t a fan of elevators, but this ride felt impossibly worse. The walls are all made up of mirrors and you see yourself in the reflection, but you don’t exactly recognize the girl in there. Your eyes are tired from the show, dark circles already formed. Your hands are aching, clenching and unclenching on their own accord. Your body is slumped against the back wall, likely leaving a slight imprint from the smoke residue and dust on your clothes. Worst of all are the tears running down your face, smudging at your makeup, the black mascara you had applied dripping down in sinister raindrops against your skin. The sad girl stares back at you as you sniffle slightly, confused at what you’re seeing. “Why are you crying?” you ask yourself, your voice creaking and then breaking at the end as you struggle to get out the word ‘crying’ before a sob wracks through you. You roll your eyes when your reflection offers no explanation for itself. You laugh at your own patheticness and try to shake the feelings you’re experiencing.
Inside your room now, you flop on the bed and stare straight up at the ceiling. Your arms spread to your sides and your legs lay limply below you. You think about every night before last, every night since the tour started. Every night where you weren’t alone, where you were with Harry. Your mind flits to last night, how Harry’s lips had ghosted over your skin after his apology. How you had told him you forgave him and it had felt so peaceful, so simple. It was all so easy. Thinking about him and the things the two of you did together brought a smile to your face, unbeknownst to you. When you realize it’s there, your face drops immediately, deciding not to think about Harry.
But trying to not think about Harry makes you only think about him more and what you think about him now most definitely doesn’t bring a smile to your face. You’re thinking about him out on his date with some person you chose to learn nothing about. Maybe out of fear of what is happening right now. By knowing nothing about the person, you can’t compare yourself to them. Can’t see what’s different about them that would make Harry go out on a date with them. But it doesn’t matter who they are or what they look like because at the end of it all you know one thing for certain. They’re not you. You correct yourself, you know two things actually, because you also know that Harry chose to be with them instead of you tonight.
You fall asleep with tear stained cheeks that night and absolutely nothing positive on your mind. You want to sleep but know it only brings whatever is bound to happen tomorrow, which doesn’t seem very promising.
-
It’s noon when you wake up and you wake to a knocking on your door. You grumble and throw a sweatshirt over your body to hide the underwear you slept in. Not remembering your new habit, you swing the door open without any hesitation to find Harry. He looks wide awake and happy, the way he almost always looks, a fresh beautiful flower of a man. You look at him groggily, “What are you doing here?”
“You weren’t answering your phone.”
“Because I was asleep?” You tilt your head and look at him incredulously. “What about this,” you gesture to your appearance, “looks like I just went for a 3 mile jog for fun and I love the morning?”
“Can I come in?” He ignores everything you just said and enters the room when you leave the door to get back in bed. You often did that with him, you don’t know why, but when he asked to come in the room it was just simpler to let him in then say anything. He knew what you meant.
He sits at the edge of the bed as you reclaim your spot in the middle of it, tucked slightly under the covers, but still sitting up. “How was your date?” You try to sound nonchalant and it seems to work. Harry doesn’t notice your tense figure, but you notice how he tenses up when you ask.
“Good…Her name was-” You don’t let him finish, you already know the answer to this next question and you don’t need her name in order to ask it, “Did you fuck her?”
He’s silent, green eyes staring straight at you. You meet his gaze, your eyes almost burning holes into him. His eyes are begging you to not make him answer the question, he doesn’t want this to end, even if he also didn’t want the commitment he had felt himself exhibiting the other night.
When he had come to your room the other night after Mitch had almost caught you, he knew he shouldn’t have stayed. He didn’t want you to feel bad so he had come to apologize, but when the pair of you didn’t have sex, he should have left. But he didn’t, he stayed and it wasn’t for you, it was for himself. It was for him to hold you in his arms because he liked to. But when he woke up the next morning he knew he needed to leave. Solely cuddling wasn’t part of your arrangement together. It’s probably on the list of don'ts that the pair of you had. So after he realized the line he had willingly crossed with you, he quickly sent a text to Jeff who had tried to set him up with a model they were acquaintances with the night before - the reason he had gotten held up. Harry had initially declined, not very interested in seeing anyone else but you. But looking back on that choice in the light of day seemed to solidify what this relationship was - a relationship - and Harry didn’t like that. The commitment wasn’t part of the plan, so he told Jeff to set that date up for after the second show at the Forum and give the woman a ticket. That’s why he was smiling at his phone the morning after only cuddling with you, that’s why he didn’t joke around with you during the show, and that’s why he wasn’t in your bed last night.
You watch him expectantly, silently waiting for his answer, your veins cold as ice. He finally starts his answer and he wants to make it clear that it wasn’t as good with the other woman, but he’s not sure how to work that part in. He’s not sure how to explain to you it meant nothing if your arrangement also apparently meant nothing. You barely even let him get in a sentence. “Yes, but it was just a one time-”
“Alright.”
“What?” He doesn’t understand what you mean when you nod your head and cut him off.
“I told you at the beginning, Harry. Tell me when you sleep with someone else because when you do this is over. It doesn’t matter if she’s the love of your life or a one night stand. I will not be a backup plan, so if you’re able to find other people to sleep with, you don’t need to be sleeping with me.”
He sits in silence for a moment, his jaw dropped open slightly. He’s unable to keep it shut as his mind races about what to say. “Are you mad with me?”
“No, I’m fine. This was just sex. Charlotte will be happy that I’ll be going out with her more.”
Harry’s brow furrows as you shift away from him on the bed, grabbing your phone and beginning to flick through it. You feel numb and you’d like to not think about why.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks because he does care about you, worry is written all over his face. He just can’t commit, not now.
“What would I be mad about, Harry?” You look up and your eyes widen at him, silently asking him to truthfully say why you should be so upset about this revelation. You always knew it would eventually come to an end, you just hadn’t expected so soon. You hadn’t known the last time would be the last time and it broke your heart even if you knew it shouldn’t.
He shifts to reach his hand out to touch your exposed knee. You move away from him and he sighs, looking exasperated. “I- I don’t know. It just seems like we should talk about this.”
“You didn’t even think it was necessary to tell me you were going on a date last night, so I think it’s best if we just left it at ‘it’s fine, see you around’.”
He spreads his hands out across the sheets, examining his rings and painted nails thoroughly. You’re right, he doesn’t really want to talk about this. Well, more so, he’s conflicted. He would like to talk enough that you want to continue your arrangement but he doesn’t want to talk about feelings or emotions. Even if he has those feelings and emotions, they’re just not part of the things he’d like to talk about. “But-” You set your phone down at his first word, “Were you even going to tell me you fucked someone else today if Charlotte hadn’t asked you if it was a date last night? Would you just have come to my room tonight and acted like nothing had changed?”
“I would have told you.”
“Sure.”
“I swear I would’ve. I would never break a promise to you.”
“But you would make a decision that affects the both of us without telling me until afterwards?” Your voice breaks a little and you beg yourself not to cry right now.
“I thought you said this was just sex?”
You laugh humorlessly, in disbelief, “Of course it’s not, Harry! And it hasn’t been for a long time and that’s why you got scared and went and fucked someone else.” He looks at you blankly, unsure what to say, knowing you’re right. You continue, “But I also told you at the beginning of this, that I wasn’t going to try to change you. So this is me not trying to change you.” You sigh when he still says nothing, his expression completely unreadable, even to you. “Why couldn’t you have left it at ‘it’s fine’?” You say finally, barely above a whisper.
He blinks a few times after your final question. He flexes his hand one more time and then stands up from the bed. He adjusts his clothes and stares at you. You feel helpless, but you’re still trying to look pulled together, even after your outburst. You stare back. A thousand words floating through your heads, all the things you want to say and likely never will.
“I know, I’m…” he pauses, trying to get himself to say it, but he can’t. He can’t admit that he’s completely ruined whatever messed up paradise you had created together. “I’ll see you later.”
The apology or lack there of hangs in the air as he walks silently out your door. You don’t move, you barely even blink, still staring at the spot he had just occupied. Your breath finally escapes you, a large sigh. Then some nervous laughter. It was over...just like that. But things like this, left like this are never really over.
-
It’s awkward for a good amount of the rest of the tour. You hang out with your bandmates more and Harry rarely ever comes out with them after the shows. He either hangs out with Mitch on his own or is going out with random people he knows on the road. You and him speak, but it’s never a lot or about anything relatively meaningful. It’s not the fun back and forth of before or the fiery heat of sneaking around. You try to be normal with him, act like his casual friend and bandmate.
He does his best to do the same, but it’s difficult for him. He doesn’t know how to talk to you anymore. He misses being with you, but can’t bring himself to fix it. He doesn’t do much to right his wrongs with you. He also doesn’t even know what he would want if he did apologize. It scared him to think about the step that came after ‘sorry’ so he saved himself the trouble and never did that part either. One night he texts you: “I’m trying, it’s just hard.” and that’s it. You don’t give him a response, he doesn’t need one. You know he’s trying and he knows you know.
Near the end of the tour, he comes out with the rest of you for drinks one night. Only Mitch is between the two of you in the booth, so you feel closer to Harry than you’ve felt in a long time. The group of you are chatting and having a good time. You somehow get onto a story from when you were still in college. You explain how you had narrowly avoided getting Chlamydia right before your Christmas break junior year. You act out the conversations you imagined would have happened at all your Christmas events if you had indeed gotten it. Your impressions of your mother, father, and sister have everyone laughing the most. Harry is shaking with laughter from your story and you smile at him in appreciation when he says, “That is the funniest story I’ve heard in a long fucking time.”
The rest of the night goes really well, for the most part. No one bickers or is short with each other. Everyone is laughing and drinks are flowing. Eventually Mitch gets up to go to the bathroom and you feel Harry slide back into the booth closer to you after letting Mitch out. Your hand had taken up residence next to your thigh, resting on the vinyl of the booth. You sense something next to it now and notice Harry’s hand is resting close beside it. He shifts his hand closer when he sees that you’re looking down at it. He’s almost touching you and you look up to his eyes, wondering if he’ll close the distance. He makes an imperceptible shake of his head, but you know what he means. As you’re about to shift your hand so that your pinky connects with his, Mitch returns and your head shoots up to his figure. You instantly remove your hand from the vinyl and shift closer to Charlotte. Harry gets up, but doesn’t sit back down once Mitch is settled. He instead walks off to get another drink, risking one last look at the table where he makes eye contact with you, but he doesn’t come back. Mitch informs everyone that Harry went back to the hotel because “he was tired” after Harry doesn’t return and Mitch gets a text. You roll your eyes, sure that you saw him slip out of the side door with a woman he found at the bar after he had gotten his drink. If that’s what ‘tired’ looked like on Harry, it was fine.
You start to speak to Harry on a more regular basis after that night out. It’s not funny or lighthearted. It’s just ‘I saw this song the other day, thought you might like to listen’. It went back and forth, it wasn’t everyday but it was something. The last text between the two of you before you began sharing songs again was his ‘I’m trying it’s just hard’ text that he had sent randomly one night. Then after one of you would listen, you would see each other at sound check and mention the song and what you thought about it. It can be noted that it was Harry who sent the first song.
For Harryween, Adam couldn’t be there. He has some family emergency the day of and doesn’t come with the rest of you to Madison Square Garden or the hotel you were staying at. Thankfully, Charlotte also plays keys and you can play bass. The band had to shift around some things on stage and make minimal changes to the setlist since you weren’t rehearsed on the covers Harry was doing. You spent the whole day running through the chords of those songs with Mitch, trying to memorize them so you didn’t mess it up during the show.
It was weird because for Harryween the setlist was switched up a little from the regular set for Love On Tour. Harry was playing the entire new album as well as half of the first album, Medicine, some of his other unreleased stuff, and about six covers, including old One Direction songs. It was going to be a long show and a challenge for you.
Before the show, Harry pulls you aside, to a dark corner backstage, and your mind flits back to the last time you had been in this type of position. The last time he had called you ‘love’, the last time you bit his earlobe - which always drove him crazy, the last time he ground his hips against yours, those and more and you had no idea that it was the last. By then you had already had sex with Harry for the last time, kissed his lips for the last time. It made your heart race to be so close to him and so alone once again. But it’s nowhere near the same as it once was. You shake the memories from your mind and look up expectantly at him.
“Have you got this?” He asks seriously, tone concerned. Of course it’s a music question, nothing more. Like it always was now.
“Yeah, of course.” His stare is unwavering and you try not to falter from it.
“I can get someone else to cover tomorrow, it was just such a short notice today. You know bass really well too, it made sense.”
“I’ve got this. Seriously, don’t worry, Harold.” You pat his chest lightly and for once Harry smiles at the sound of your nickname for him. You had stopped using it after the end of your arrangement. It never felt right to use when you were talking about music, and that was about the only time you had been talking. In this moment though, it felt right. His warm, large hands held your upper arms as you stared up into his big eyes. You missed staring into them, the shimmering emerald of his irises were constantly intriguing. You instinctively reach up to move back a curl that has fallen onto his forehead. He doesn’t shy away from your touch and continues to smile down at you.
“Y’haven’t called me that in forever.” He grins, his lips a shiny pink from the lip balm he had on.
“No, I suppose I haven’t. But where was the groan? The whole point is to annoy you.” You smile coyly. He tips his head back and laughs, releasing your arms from his grasp as he laughs wholeheartedly.
Then he does a soft groan, a playful sound, “How was that?”
“Eh. I’ll give you a four out of ten. Not enough emotion behind it.” You slide from the area the two of you have been occupying and make your way onto the stage to start dealing with the bass you would be playing. You hear Harry call out to you, “I think I deserve at least a five, maybe even a six!” You turn back for a second to look at him with an unimpressed expression and shake your head no. He laughs again and you hear him even when you walk out onto the stage. You smile to yourself as you pick up the bass.
When he introduces the band, he waits to talk about you last. “And sadly this evening Mr. Adam Prentergest, our usual fabulous bassist, was unable to attend our fancy dress party! However! Our lovely Y/N L/N is also a superb bassist and was kind enough to step into his place. - Anything to add?” He saunters across the stage to you and you laugh kindly, feeling at ease in this part of the stage even though you were usually on the opposite side and further back from the crowd. You nod at Harry and he leans his portable mic towards your lips. You wet them quickly and eye Harry before turning out to the crowd. “Just please go easy on me if the bass sounds a bit wonky. It wasn’t on the job description that I’d be playing songs I didn’t know, with a few hours notice, on not my main instrument.” You say this in a kind of list format, holding up your fingers as you tick off all the ways that this was out of your comfort zone. You scratch your head dramatically after you’re finished and the whole crowd laughs and cheers. The rest of your bandmates chuckle along and Harry nods and smiles at you.
“You’ll do great, love.” He leans into your ear and says without the microphone. Then he winks and turns to go back to the center of the stage. You press your lips together to contain your smile, both happy and concerned about the flip your stomach just did.  
The show is going great. Harry is killing it with the crowd. Everything is electric. You’re entirely focussed on your bass playing, but Harry has been coming over every so often to do something fun or have you tell a joke.
“She’s truly the funniest person I know! And I know a fair amount of people I think.” Harry says as he walks over to you have you tell another joke. Mitch has been looking at you and Harry interacting all night and he’s sure that it isn’t your different position that has him coming over and talking to you so much tonight. Something has definitely changed once again. First the pair of you were always together and having fun, then it was silence and stolen glances that neither of you realized you were taking, now it was back to the beginning.
“That’s because you think puns are part of the top tier levels of comedy.” You say easily, “Here, I can guarantee Harry will love this and the rest of you will likely groan.” Then you stop and act as if you’re thinking for a little, everyone’s waiting expectantly. “Sorry, thinking...Well, I’ve got some skeleton puns I could do, they’re very humerus or y’know classic vampire ones..eh but those ones kind of suck. What do you think, Harry?” You look out at the crowd, face deadpan, as Harry laughs beside you. You roll your eyes playfully and push him back to the center of the stage. Leaning into your own mic now, you say, “I told you.” That’s when everyone laughs. Harry throws another look at you over his shoulder and laughs a little more, his smile wide and eyes bright.
A little over half way through the night, it’s time for ‘to be so lonely’. You already knew the bass chords for it before today and you were confident in yourself by now. It wasn’t as hard a song so you were happy for the little break. This song allowed you to not be looking down at the notes you had stuck to the floor in front of you. Harry’s voice comes in after Mitch’s intro and you watch the way his lips move against his mic. You laugh a little as you watch the crowd yell the first “arrogant son of a bitch” line. You used to not particularly like when people did that, but after it had ended with Harry you had started to enjoy it a bit more. Having those people yell the words you couldn’t, but truly felt about him sometimes, was cathartic. Tonight you weren’t angry with him, but you enjoyed the energy in the room when everyone said it. We’ve all got our own ‘arrogant son of a bitch’ that we want to scream at sometimes. Tonight yours wasn’t Harry for the first time in a long time. The song moves along and Harry takes the microphone off its stand, he walks towards your side of the stage. When the lyrics get to:
“I miss the shape of your lips, your wit, it’s just a trick, this is it so I’m sorry”
Harry isn’t looking at the crowd, he’s looking straight at you. You don’t understand the way he’s looking at you. Or maybe you don’t want to understand it. This song, its lyrics, explains Harry really well. You saw the relationship you had with him in the words. Maybe not precisely, but a part of it was in it. Harry had unknowingly foretold your lives with his words. You know he has trouble connecting and committing, you know his issues, and you accept them. But you knew what had happened between the two of you was far more serious than meaningless sex and you knew Harry couldn’t bring himself to be that serious. He ran off and that was fine, but the face that he couldn’t even apologize hurt you the most. But the song lays it all out for you, he’s not one to be able to apologize quickly. The fact that he looks at you and means the apology he sings in the song for you, it’s a big step, but it’s not enough. The banter, the technical apology, it was all a good start, but it’s just that - the beginning. If Harry wants to make things better with you, a lot more needs to be discussed. So when you sing backing vocals for the following chorus you mean the words for Harry completely.
“Don’t call me baby again, you got your reasons, I know that you’re trying to be friends. I know you mean it, but don’t call me baby again it’s hard for me to go home and be so lonely”
His eyes flick to you again and see your lips moving around the words as you play the bass. He sees the emotion in your face and understands what you’re saying. It’s hard for you to go to your room at night and be alone while he’s out with someone else. It’s hard for him to act like everything’s all fine and perfect, back to normal, because for you it isn’t really. He can’t call you ‘love’ and tell the world you’re funny and expect it to be enough. He can’t sing his sorry that was initially for someone else to you and expect you to accept it. And he knows it, too.
After the show everyone decides they’re exhausted and need to rest before tomorrow. You all planned to celebrate the whole day and you knew it was going to be a wicked Halloween. Knowing this, you’re surprised with the knock on your door after about an hour of being back at the hotel. You’ve given up the habit you had once hoped to cultivate and swing the door open haplessly. Truly having no idea who to expect, you are still surprised to find the man standing before you.
“Mitch.”
“We need to talk.” He stares down at you, his shoulders slumped from tiredness.
“Come in,” you usher him in when you hear the urgency of his voice. He saunters in before you and you close the door. You move to the small couch in the room and sit down. Your hands gesture for him to sit as well, but he shakes his head. He stays standing and brings a hand up to smooth his hair back on the right side. His eyes staying on the floor and flickering up to you every so often.
“What is going on with you and Harry?”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh come on Y/N. You’re seemingly best friends with him for a good portion of tour, then you’re barely on speaking terms for the second half, now you’re joking around again. What is going on?”
You sit there in a stunned silence, “I don’t know what to say.” Your arms go to hug your body, feeling anxious about being confronted about this topic.
“Were you seeing each other?” His voice is soft, eyes taking in your body language and knowing it’s a difficult topic.
“I wouldn’t put it like that…”
He holds back the ‘I knew it’ statement because of  how sullen you look, b..ut in his mind all of the pieces he had watched unfold came to fit in a perfect puzzle. He decides to sit beside you when you don’t say anything else.
“We were having sex,” it felt weird to say it out loud, no one but you and Harry had actually known, “But it ended. I don’t know what today was...but it felt different than how it’s been.”
“Why are you so sad if it was just sex?” He places a hand on your shoulder and your tear-filled eyes meet his. “Oh…” He knows why.
“I’m sorry, Y/N.” You sob at his apology because he’s not the one who should be at your door apologizing. You sniffle and lean your head into his chest. He takes you into his arms and holds you as your cries become muffled sounds in his shirt.
You cry without words for a few minutes, Mitch coos some soothing words, his voice soft and kind. He was always a good shoulder to cry on for all of your bandmates, he was extremely strong and you made a mental note to thank him thoroughly when you actually were capable of forming coherent thoughts. “I’ve never told anyone before. It feels so weird even saying it out loud,” you say as you pull back from Mitch’s embrace. You're thankful his shirt is black, no tear stains can be made out.
“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks gently, gauging your reaction. You wipe at your eyes and nod.
Taking a deep breath, you decide to start from the beginning. “Do you remember the party Charlotte had a week before we left for tour?”
Mitch nods and his eyes widen at what you’re saying as he remembers the night. “It started back then?” He’s unable to contain his incredulous question. He had suspected something, but hadn’t thought it had been going on for that long. He was truly astounded. You nod, “Well sort of,” then you go on to recount the last couple of months. All the way up until the Forum shows. “That night, when I opened Harry’s door and it was you standing there...Harry and I didn’t have anything to discuss. It was just…” Mitch nods again. He hadn’t spoken much since you had gotten into the story, wanting to let you be in charge of what you were saying and believing he could probably ask questions at the end. “Then the next night he blew me off for his date with that model and I cried in the elevator because I knew what was going to happen next.”
“So that’s when it ended?” Mitch asks when you don’t speak for a rather extended period of time.
“Yeah, the next morning he came over and I asked if they had sex and he said yes so I told him it was over.”
“But I don’t get why he went out with that model. He had told me she wasn’t his type the night before…” Your eyes shot up and looked at Mitch. His eyes widened when he realized what he said.
“What?”
“When we were talking about Canyon Moon, he mentioned that Jeff had tried to set him up with some woman but he had declined. Said he wasn’t interested. I don’t get what changed between then and the next morning.” He figured it was best to put all the cards out on the table right now. You’d be going your separate ways for a while, now that the tour was over and he had seen how unhappy both you and Harry had been over the last part of the tour.
You shift your leg to have it folded beneath you as you continue to stare at Mitch. “He came over after you and him had your meeting,”  you say quietly. Mitch hums, waiting for you to continue this time.
“He apologized for choosing you over me to talk to. Then we slept together, but we didn’t have sex...I think that’s what wigged him. It had felt too real, sleeping in the same bed with me without having sex beforehand made it feel like something more than just two people fulfilling needs.” Mitch nods and sighs heavily. He looks around the room and then back to you, taking in your full appearance. Again he feels terrible for you, how he had felt the second night at the Forum even though he hadn’t known the full story yet. “Now we’re here.”
“Tonight, it felt like he was trying,” Mitch finally said and you smiled sweetly, thinking back to Harry’s behavior. No matter how far from him you were, all those good feelings you associated with him never went away.
“Yeah, it’s been getting better. He texted me once saying he was trying. Then he came out with us one night and it almost seemed like that would be the night he’d apologize, but then he didn’t. Then we started sharing music with each other again. Then tonight… was tonight. It’s just confusing. He’s confusing.”
Mitch smiles sadly and brings you in for another hug and you’re actually so thankful he
showed up at your door. It was your first time telling anyone all of this, because Harry didn’t even know how you felt about some of these things. It felt amazing to be heard and to be told it was okay to be feeling like this.
Pulling back, Mitch says, “He’s definitely different. But his differences are what make him special and that’s why I think he clings to them even if they sometimes can hurt other people. The fact that he’s trying is a good sign. I hope he can find it in himself to make it right between you two because I had never seen either of you happier than when you were apparently together. Especially those few weeks leading up to Los Angeles. Sarah had kept asking me why Harry was so smiley back then. When I had asked him, he had just said “have you ever found something and realized you wanted to keep it with you forever?” I had no idea what he had meant, but I feel like he meant you now.”
Your awestruck at what Mitch has just told you. He was right about the first part about Harry trying to change, but the last bit, that’s what had left you speechless. You turn your body to face the rest of the room and put your chin against your hand as you think.
“Mitch...I have to go.”
He understands what you mean and you walk out of the door with him. He walks down the hall to his room and you walk quickly past the elevator and opt for the stairs. Before you know it you’re running up the stairs, taking two at a time even though you’re not the most athletically inclined. You can’t stand to wait for the elevator and your mind is racing.
You knock on the door that is Harry’s after reaching his floor. It swings open and reveals a confused and sleepy Harry. Thankfully he’s still fully dressed because that would have been a whole other problem you would have if he hadn’t been. You push past him and walk straight into his room without any invitation. He follows behind you, still unsure of why you’ve come here.
“Have you ever found something and realized you want to keep it forever?” You ask him, repeating the words Mitch had just told you.
“Pardon?”
“You told Mitch that about me before we ended things. If that’s how you felt, why didn’t you do what you said?”
Harry sighs as the words register in his mind. The memory of when he had smiled at Mitch so giddily and asked the vague question, his thoughts only of you as he asked it. The shit-eating grin he had plastered on his face after Mitch had looked at him confusedly flitted across his mind. As well as the way he had gone to his dressing room and had a quickie with you after that conversation.
“It’s not that simple…”
“It is, Harry! Why can’t you just be honest with me for once?”
“Okay, fine. You want me to be honest?” you nod at his harsh tone. The two of you standing only a few feet apart. “You have no goddamn idea what you do to me, when I’m around you, I have no control of my emotions or of my thoughts. I pushed you away because I didn’t like feeling out of control. I got out because what had started as a fun time had turned into me longing to be with you every waking hour. I found myself not caring what we did as long as I got to hold you and be around you, but that wasn’t part of the plan.”
“Plans can change, Harry.”
You step closer to him and he meets your eyes. He had left his music playing softly on his phone before he had opened the door so now as the two of you stared at each other, he must have been playing his Etta James playlist because her voice faded out of the song “I’d Rather Go Blind” and straight into “A Sunday Kind of Love”. Harry had shared her At Last album with you over the Christmas holiday of last year and you had decided to listen to her entire discography afterwards, so you knew the songs. The transition was a little too on the nose and you wondered if Spotify ever listened to your conversations.
His emerald eyes examine your face and take inventory of your features, measuring whether anything had changed since he had looked at you this close up. Your hand goes up to cup his cheek and he nuzzles into it, dropping his head closer to you ever so slightly and closing his eyes at the feeling of you.
“I am sorry,” he whispers earnestly as he reopens his eyes.
You can’t take your eyes off of him even if you tried. He looks so soft in the moment, so vulnerable in this light as the music swells in the corner of the room. Etta sings about how she needs a love that is going to last as the pair of you inch yourselves closer together.
“I forgive you, Harry,” you whisper back.
He nudges his head further down and your lips finally press together, slotting back together after months apart. Your lips are eager to press back against their favorite companion. You oblige them, but pull back for a second, just far enough to say, “I will always forgive you, so long as you tell me when you’re scared so we can work through it together.”
He nods, “I promise to never let you go again.” Before taking you back against his lips and gathering your body up in his arms. His lips missing yours just as much.
-
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sunrise-imagines · 7 months ago
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Selever x Reader Imagine
(AN: I saw that there’s no content for him which is an absolute crime so here I am with some self indulgent garbage. Kind of a weird mix between headcanons and an imagine, but I hope it’s still enjoyable. I blame Dokki for making me simp so hard for this smug b*stard 😩 Reader is around Sel’s age (17) and for the sake of simplicity, this is a timeline where Ruv and Sarv do get together and him and Rasazy exist in the canon universe💕)
WARNINGS: Lots of swearing, angst (it gets fluffy later on), out of character probably ~
I Don’t Hate You
•Sooo this dude starts out as being a total douchebag to you
•You guys are neighbors (yes you live next to a church lol) and have known each other since you were kids. You had always gotten along well with Rasazy, but no matter how hard you tried to be nice to him, Selever only ever responded by brushing you off or making a snide remarks
•I think that he’s the type of person that flirts a lot, but when there’s someone that he actually likes, he has NO clue what to do
•He was upset with his dad for not making a move for a long time, but now that he’s in the same position, he’s just as apprehensive about it
•He’s scared of opening up to people, and hates how it makes him feel so vulnerable and weak
•So he thinks that by being mean to you like everyone else, the feelings will just go away on their own and he wont have to deal with confronting you
•Rasazy can see right through his facade though, and tells him bluntly, “If you like them so much, just ask them out! You can’t keep being mean to N/N.”
•Usually she’s able to keep the peace by acting as a mediator between you two, because she knows Selever wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. She cares about you like another sibling and she hates seeing him act like that to you.
•One day, Rasazy had to stay home sick so it’s just you and Selever on the walk home.
•He’s up to his usual antics, laughing about how you got detention for slapping him in class after he kept mocking you while giving a presentation.
•”Awww, you mad ‘cause everyone saw you crying like a little f*ckin b*tch? It’s okay, at least now the whole school knows how you really are!”
•Eventually you get so fed up with his bullsh*t that you just go off on him and shout, “WHY DO YOU HATE ME SO MUCH?! ALL I’VE EVER DONE IS TRY TO REACH OUT, BUT YOU JUST TREAT ME LIKE A F*CKING JOKE! JUST TELL ME, WHAT DID I DO TO MAKE YOU HATE ME SO MUCH?”
•He’s stunned for a bit, he genuinely didn‘t expect you to react so strongly, let alone tell him off
•He quickly snaps out of it and gets defensive
•”THAT’S EXACTLY WHY! YOU ACTING ALL NICE AND SH*T, IT’S SO F*CKING ANNOYING. ALWAYS F*CKING SMILING AND LAUGHING, WEARING THOSE STUPID OUTFITS THAT MATCH YOUR MAKEUP. THE WAY YOU SING IN THE SHOWER AND LAUGH AT YOUR OWN SH*TTY JOKES. HOW YOU ALWAYS THINK ABOUT OTHERS FIRST AND CARE ABOUT PEOPLE EVEN WHEN THEY DON’T DESERVE IT. IT DRIVES ME INSANE!”
•Your expression changes from frustration and hurt to confusion as you process what he’s saying, •“Huh? What do you...”
•”YOU‘RE SO PRETTY AND SMART A-AND KIND AND NICE TO ME FOR NO F*CKING REASON, IT MAKES ME FEEL LIKE AN IDIOT. I CAN’T STOP THINKING ABOUT YOU AND YOUR STUPID F*CKING SMILE. I JUST...I HATE HOW YOU MAKE ME FEEL!”
•He finally confesses, his blush rising to the tips of his ears as he squeezes his eyes shut, tears threatening to spill at any moment.
•You’re speechless for a moment. The entire time you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him get so emotional, and you’ve never, ever seen him cry.
•He turns away from you and continues down the sidewalk, angry at himself for letting you see him so worked up. He was fully expecting you to argue back by saying how stupid he is, how he should have just had the balls to talk to you instead of being a dick to you for all those years.
•But instead, you slowly walk up and wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace
•He lets out a small gasp and blushes even harder, putting his hands on your shoulders to try and push you away
• “H-Hey, what the f*ck are you doing?! Don’t- stop being an idiot!”
•You shake your head, “No, I’m not gonna let you keep bottling up your feelings. You don’t have to be alone, just talk to me.”
•He frowns, looking away, “Shut up. You don’t know what you’re talking about, so stop pretending like you give a sh*t about me.”
•”I’m not pretending. Even though you were so terrible to me for so long, I don’t hate you. I’ve never hated you.”
•Selever scoffs, laughing dryly, “Are you crazy? You really think I’d believe such an obvious lie? F*cking grow up.”
•You persist, “I know it was hard for you, in the Nothing World. Razzy told me about it. How there wasn’t any color, any sound, any people. Just white going on forever. She told me how you used to read to her and kept bringing her books so she wouldn’t get lonely. She admires you so much.”
•His teeth clench as you continue, “I-I know you had to be strong for her then, and for yourself. I can’t imagine what that must have felt like. But, you don’.t...you don’t have to be alone anymore, Sel. You...you don’t have to be scared.”
•He breaks down, sobbing in your arms. For so long, he’d been keeping everything inside of him. Trying to be their for his sister, his anger towards his father, his fear of ceasing to exist. No one has ever been so open and honest with him, and he just can’t hold back
•So you hold him. Let him cry and swear into your shoulder as you bury your nose into his soft sweater.
•He hates it. He hates being so weak, being so frail in front of you but...it feels so good to finally let go.
•As much as he hates it, he doesn’t want this moment to end. He wants to keep holding you, wants to never leave this feeling of being warm, of being safe
•When you finally pull apart, he’s still wiping away now dry tears, trying to erase any sign of what just happened from his face. You put your hand on his, and for the first time since the argument had started, he looks at you, his red tinted eyes absorbed in yours
•After what feels like ages, he finally clears his throat to speak
•”I- uh...I...I don’t expect you to forgive me right away, or ever, really. If I were you, I’d probably never want to see my dumb*ss again after all the sh*tty things I said to you. God, I sound like a b*tch right now. But...I don’t hate you either. I-I know I’m a total piece of sh*t and I probably don’t deserve it, but- please, let me at least try to make it up to you. Even if it takes the rest of our lives, I don’t give a damn. But I want to try.”
•You smile at him, threading your fingers through his. It’ll take a lot of time to truly earn your trust, and even more for him to forgive himself. Selever won’t become a better person overnight, but...it’s a start. And as long as you’re willing to give him a chance, he’ll keep trying. Because for the first time in his life, he didn’t to put on a front for anyone. For the first time, he could just simply be. And he’ll never stop finding a way to thank you for that.
~
(adsggssfhsjdb this is so bad lmao but thanks for reading anyway 🥲 feel free to send in a request, I need more excuses to love on this rat boy)
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the-hidden-pages · 7 months ago
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Misread Affections - Laszlo Kreizler/Fem!Reader SMUT
I started at midnight. I had 0 words. It’s 4:30am. I have 4643 words because I have fallen deeply for Doctor Laszlo Kreizler. Forgive me for this.
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Synopsis: With all your history together, you and Doctor Kreizler believe you understand each other. Yet when you believe him to be infatuated with Karen Stratton, and he believes you to have affection for Marcus Isaacson, you’re both stunned when you find yourselves to be proven wrong.
Warnings: NSFW. Desk Sex. Dirty Talk. Patient-to-Friend-to-Lover. Definite depression and general self-loathing.
SPOILERS FOR THE SECOND SEASON!!!!!!
You had always admired the man Doctor Laszlo Kreizler was.
He championed those who could not champion themselves. He worked tirelessly to understand the minds of criminals. To those very same criminals, and many others that lived as outcasts to society, he would offer kindness and understanding. At his best he was beyond intelligent and, daresay, sweet.
At his worst, he was ruthless, and his own self-loathing would have him come across as unempathetic most days. While preaching to others to care for himself, he would often forego his own care. While offering an ear and a receptive mind, he would refuse to offer himself the same.
You knew this within mere days of knowing Doctor Kreizler. And such facts made you rather fond of him.
A fondness that was not helped by his handsome build, his dark locks, his scrutinizing gaze.
And yet no part of you could justify ever acting upon this fondness.
You had come to him both as a patient and a colleague. You had always been aware of a darkness within yourself, ever since you were a child. This darkness had only grown, too often all-consuming, leaving you. a dysfunction wreck of a human being. However, you had an obligation to keep going, a promise you had sworn to your sister to continue your own existence. So, exist you did.
While your family’s fortune wasn’t enough to send you to Harvard, like the Doctor himself, it did allow for you to be a reasonably educated woman of the times. A deep fascination in understanding your own darkness led you to the work of alienists, and eventually to the work of Doctor Kreizler.
While you couldn’t often justify breaking societal rules to such an extent, you found yourself motivated enough to call upon the Doctor with a proposition – should he aide you in understanding your own illness of the brain, you would offer any services you could to the Kreizler Institute.
You could tell he was curious of you. A woman of your standing did not often make such demands with such authority, nor so blatantly admit to her own illnesses. He quickly agreed, eager to study why you considered yourself so damaged, and happy to take on an extra set of hands with the children he looked after.
Over time, you begun to slip effortlessly into Doctor Kreizler’s life.
You met the likes of Cyrus and Stevie, along with many others that worked at the Institute. You were then blown away by the strength within Miss Sara Howard, and the pure, undiluted love that Mister John Schuyler Moore could show others. You were even called upon on several occasions to be a fresh set of eyes, the murders of young boy prostitutes and kidnappings of babies not deterring you, to the surprise and reluctant joy of the Doctor.
And as Doctor Kreizler studied you, you studied him.
You slowly learned of all the emotion he kept hidden behind the façade of professionalism. The kindness, the love, the anger, the fear. While he showed none of these most days, occasionally a concoction of such feeling would burst in an overwhelming outpour.
In offering him a platonic safe space, a place for him to talk through such outbursts should he wish, he in turn aided you.
The darkness you felt for so long began to subside some days, and between the efforts of him and a passing remark from John, you learned of an outlet for your darker thoughts – writing.
While expressing your own emotions and turmoil did not come easy, you found it far simpler when written down on paper, as opposed to spoken aloud to a judging room.
Doctor Kreizler gifted you a beautiful leather-bound journal a mere day after this revelation, with the request that you record your thoughts. He promised he would not read it unless you requested him to as an act of therapy.
For many days, you allowed him to read any thoughts that came to mind.
Thoughts of blood, of death, of pain and anger. Thoughts of a stolen childhood, of worthlessness, of longing.
Many days when he read your pages, you would be silently crying as he did, fearful of his judgement. But it never came.
Instead, he would close the book silently, and offer you professional advice.
One particularly rough day, in which your narrative was beyond vicious to you, he closed the book before finishing, and offered you something you didn’t expect – an embrace.
He hugged you so tightly, that for once…
Your inner monologue ceased.
His own, however, raged on.
How could you think so lowly of yourself, he wondered? While he could understand mindsets built from trauma, he couldn’t help but wish you could see yourself through his own eyes. Your empathy when you cared for the children in the Institute. Your intelligence when conversing with Miss Howard. Your artistic delight when laughing with John. And the perspective, the warmth you offered such a broken man such as himself.
Neither of you knew, in that exact moment, that the other was realizing the fondness you both held in your hearts for each other.
And neither of you knew how truly broken the other felt at their core.
Two souls, believing themselves to be undeserving of love, finding it in their hearts for the other.
When the beautiful, cunning Doctor Karen Stratton entered the picture, you asked Doctor Kreizler to refrain from reading your journal.
He was hurt by this, but profession and courtesy claimed that he could not show it.
You began to withdraw from him, placing your entire focus on the case of the stolen babies and your focus on the children in the Institute. Kreizler, in his own difficulties of potentially losing the said Institute, took notice of your own withdrawal from your sessions, but held enough hope that you had found stability to care for yourself. You still conversed with Sara, you smiled with John. You had even been introduced to the Isaacsons, and he had wondered if you had taken a liking to Marcus.
You deserved a young man such as him, he told himself, heart heavy. A whole, young man with enough strength to support you.
And on the night of Marcus’ death, he believed it to be confirmed.
He found you alone, in his study where you so often had your sessions with him. You were curled inwards on yourself, clutching your journal as though it were your lifeline, sobbing uncontrollably.
He moved to console you, arms holding you tightly.
“It’s all too much,” you choked out, unable to articulate much more.
 Doctor Kreizler nodded, waiting for you to be able to go on.
You regained some breath with difficulty. “I just…I can’t stand to lose a friend. Not after everything else lately.”
 “I know how difficult it can be, to lose one you love…” Kreizler began, not noticing how your sobs stopped in confusion. “After Mary, I…Well I swore I would never again…The point is, I-“ he stopped short.
You had spluttered out a laugh.
 Your hand covered your mouth immediately, noticing what had just happened. You immediately moved to cover it up, wiping away your tears and standing up away from him. “No, no, Doctor. Heavens, Marcus…well, he was loved but, I saw…I see the Isaacsons as brothers I never had. He was dear to me but…not in the sense I suspect that Mary was to you.”
 “I…see…” Doctor Kreizler pulled back, sitting in his study chair as he gazed at you. “Apologies, I seem to have misread your relationship. Nonetheless, his death has greatly affected you, as it has all of us. I suspect it will be a very difficult grieving process, but…” he manages a soft, rare smile that warmed your heart. “We will endure it together, as we have these cases.”
“Will we?” your voice grew empty as your thoughts swirled.
He titled his head, unsure of where this was leading. You gathered your courage to question him.
“Rumour has it, Doctor Stratton has asked you to join her in Vienna. I wonder if you’ll go.”
 Silence falls over the room.
 Laszlo couldn’t understand what this had to do with anything. Your crying, your distress over Marcus. What did his leaving have to do with any of your distress?
 “You’re greatly upset by something,” he eventually said, gazing at you with a more analytical eye than before. “I’m afraid you give me too much credit, if you think I know the specifics of it.”
“I-“ you stopped, clearing your throat as you choked up. Your knuckles turned white on your journal’s edges, hands shaking. “Doctor Kreizler-“
“It’s been months since we’ve known each other,” he interrupts, “and we haven’t held a session together in nearly five weeks. Would it pain you to call me Laszlo? Are we not…friends?”
You gaped at him, but his face remained unreadable.
  You shake your head. “Yes, it…it would pain me. It would pain me a great deal, Doctor – it does pain me a great deal to hear you call me a friend when…”
“When what?” he prompts you sharply, and you inhale quickly.
“When I feel I’ve been dishonest with you, unkind to you…” had the room not been dead still, Laszlo might have missed the next words you whispered. “I feel I’ve been perverse to you.”
 If he was confused, he didn’t show it. And you were talking now, the words spilling out, a cascade unable to end.
“I feel as though…had Marcus not…died…tonight, I might never have done this. But then my mind, it began spinning so quickly I couldn’t stop it, and I couldn’t help but imagine countless scenarios in which Libby, in which the Dusters, in which…well, in which any number of causes might take your life as well. In which you might die before…before I can confess…” You huff, your words getting caught once again. With a determined move, your arm shot out to pass your journal to him, and Kreizler takes note of a particular page being creased.
 He looks up at you, but you don’t meet his eye.
“I’ve marked where I want you to start reading. Just…go from there. Inform me when you’re finished.”
You walk over to the window, desperate to be distracted, as Doctor Kreizler opens the book and reads at your request.
           He can’t comprehend what he’s reading at first.
           While he had grown accustomed to your twisted perception of yourself, he hadn’t realized just how ruthless the self-loathing could take you. Endless doubt of your friendships with the team, with your position as a caretaker, in your abilities to be a friend.            And as words continue, he realizes your doubts in being a partner, a lover.
           If he grows flustered at the words he reads, he’s determined not to show it to you.
           He reads your envy of women like Sara Howard, able to move forward with such strength and certainty, and of Karen Stratton, so brash, so forward. Your envy is strong towards her, in her abilities to understand sexuality, passion, human desire, and in…
           In her connection to himself.
           His eyes widen as your own ramblings seem to uncover a truth you hadn’t explored before – your attraction to the Doctor that had aided you, offered you employment. The pure taboo of such affections, yet your inability to stop it. Your adoration, your admiration for the intimidating, raw man that he was. How you felt unworthy, that you would hold him back, that he deserved a woman as delightful as Doctor Stratton, a woman who could stimulate him academically, that could pleasure him physically. How you felt so deeply ashamed of harbouring such elicit fantasies of the man that had been nothing but kind to you. How you loved him so deeply it made you want to die, because you would never be deserving –
           You heard the journal snapping shut, and you couldn’t bring yourself to face the Doctor, knowing what he must’ve read, dreading what he must now be thinking.
           The silence lasted far longer than you would’ve liked, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak.
           “I find myself taken aback more often than I like,” Kreizler’s voice shatters the still air. “I believe myself to be so wise, so understanding of the mind, and yet I come across a mind such as yours that I…I truly cannot fathom how you think what you think.”
           “I’m sorry,” you start, voice breaking as tears begin to flow again.
           You nearly jump out of your skin when you feel a hand on your own. You don’t dare to turn around, frozen like a rabbit having been sniffed out by a hound.
           “You think me to be attracted to Doctor Stratton, am I correct?”
           You nod. Of course, he was. Was it not obvious?
           “Karen and I are colleagues, and friends, should I be too bold to assume so. I can recognize that she is a physically beautiful woman, yes, and I’m sure some day she will make a man a very happy husband, should she wish. But her and I have a kinship, a partnership, not unlike what I believe you and Marcus might have had, that I too misinterpreted as love.”
           You sniff, closing your eyes tightly. What was he trying to tell you?
           Doctor Kreizler spins you around slowly, leading you to face him.
           “I do not harbour half the affection in my heart for Doctor Stratton as I do for you.”
           You freeze. “Doctor-“
           “Please,” he reaches up to cup your face, wiping away several of the tears that had fallen. “Please call me Laszlo. You are not the only one to have an epiphany after the loss of our friend, my dear. If you are being so honest with me, I feel it only right to offer you the same.”
           “Laszlo…” you whisper, meeting his eyes for the first time since he read your words. His heart breaks with the pain within them. “How can you do this? Look at me, hold me, when you see how broken I am? I’m undeserving-“
           “You would choose to love, to care for a cripple, a shell of a man in the eyes of society. A man who has too often neglected the children he cares for, often spat in the face of those he dares to call his friends. If either of us is undeserving of the other’s love, my dear, it’s me.”
           Your brows furrow angrily, reaching up to mirror him, cupping his own face with both of yours. “Laszlo Kreizler you stop that right now, I won’t hear any more of…you’re smiling. How could you be smiling?”
           He leans into one of your hands affectionately, a rare, dashing smile lighting up his features in a way you cherished to see, despite the circumstances. “Perhaps we are both wrong. Perhaps…perhaps we need each other, to use each other’s eyes and hearts to understand who we truly are. We both have such lowly opinions of ourselves but…perhaps it was meant to be.”
           Your own smile was beginning to form, despite your best efforts, as your brain’s screaming of all that could go wrong began to quieten.
           “I hesitate to believe in fate, Doctor…” you trail off, taking a step closer, your heart filled with hope and eyes filled with wonder. “I hesitate further to admit to needing someone, and yet…my brain is only ever kind and quiet when I’m around you.”
           Laszlo’s weaker arm rests on your hip, while the thumb of the hand caressing your face moves to trace your chin. “My language is not as…poetic, as yours, my dear,” he confesses, and you both chuckle, “but I very much would like to kiss you, with your permission.”
           “Laszlo, you could do anything to me,” you confess, reaching forward to finally meet his lips.
           It’s messy, and uncoordinated, but any lack of experience the pair of you may have is made up for by the pure, electric eagerness that overtakes the both of you. You’re both exploring, testing each other, in some give and take dance that does not seem to quell any emotions within you, instead quite the opposite.
           You could kiss him forever, you quickly realize.
           But by some cruel twist of fate, you have to pull away, air taking priority.
           You stare wildly at him as he breathes heavily, eyes darker than you had ever seen, with a sense of uncertainty that you hadn’t ever seen about him before.
           A teasing smile finds its way onto your face, as you can’t help but test your luck.
           “How far, exactly, did you read in my book?”
           He blinks at you a couple of times, uncertain of your line of questioning. “I read of your jealousy, of your shame, I don’t…I don’t believe I finished it all, I found I had to address the issue before I continued –“
           “Would you like to know what else was in there?”
           Laszlo appeared flustered as you led him back to his plush chair, and you knelt down between his legs to pick up the book that had fallen to the ground. You don’t offer it to him, however, instead putting it aside.
           “My dear, I don’t –“
           “I ask you to stop me, if my advances are too…forward to you, Laszlo.”
           You slowly rise from your place, moving to lift your skirts so you might position yourself above the Doctor, straddling him in his chair. As if on its own accord, his good hand rises to situate on your waist tightly. You gently grasp his weaker hand, his “broken wing”, and lift it to your mouth, delicately kissing the palm, each finger.
           Laszlo mutters your name, transfixed by your mouth’s movements.
           “I would love every part of you,” you begin, continuing your assault of affection as you whisper against the part of him, he views as most broken. “I would care for you in every capacity in which I’m capable. I would strive to be deserving of you in every which way.” You drop his hand and lean forward, hands grasping the back of the chair as you hold his gaze. “I would have you claim every part of me, I would have your marks for the world to see, if you wished. I’ve dreamt of you and I in the most compromising positions that I dare not say, on nearly every surface of your study, my bedroom, the Institute. I would give you every single piece of me, Laszlo, every ounce of my attraction. I would give you my darkest sins and my deepest pleasure, if you would allow me too. Please, Doctor Kreizler, let me please you.”
           You didn’t know what you were expecting from your confession.
           Perhaps you wondered if he would push you away, exclaiming that your desires were too much, your words too sinful, and that he would cease associations with you immediately. Perhaps you thought he would scold you for being too wanton, too unbecoming of a woman of your standing. Perhaps you hoped the worst that would happen is he would kiss you softly and instruct that you both go to bed in separate rooms, that more carnal needs could be discussed at a later date.
           Never in your wildest dreams did you expect to feel Laszlo shift and harden beneath you, eyes growing so dark they were nearly completely black, and have him reach his hand to curl around the back of your neck.
           And you certainly didn’t expect the deep growl that escaped him as his lips, tongue, and teeth clashed with yours frantically, animalistically.
           Neither of you had experience, you both knew this.
           But you both knew what you wanted, what you needed, and that would be enough to motivate you.
           You both took what you could, Laszlo leaving your lips to reach what he could of your neck, lavishing it with lips and tongue. He explored expertly, quickly learning what you liked based upon the quickening of your breath, of your pulse. What was left of his analytical mind was fascinated by the chain reaction of events, how you spurred each other on.
           When he nipped at your ear, your hips rolled uncontrollably, and a rough groan escaped him unconsciously.
           Fascinating indeed.
           He panicked slightly when you stood, wondering if he had stepped too far. The panic raised as you strode across his study, heading quickly to the door.
           “Wait, my dear, I-“
           “Calm down, Laszlo,” you hushed him, and he heard a loud click of the door locking from where he sat. “I merely don’t wish to be interrupted. If this is still what you wish.”
           He leans back in his chair, breathing heavily, observing you as you stand once again before him. “I should be asking you what you want, my darling.”
           You grin, shaking your head. “Was my speech before not enough for you to know what I want, Doctor Kreizler? Can you not infer exactly what I want from you from the writings in my journal? It’s your turn to share, else I might just leave you like this.”
           His good hand involuntarily juts forward, grasping yours desperately.
           “Don’t you dare.”
           You giggle, and he smiles at the sound.
           “Then, tell me what you wish, Doctor.”
           “I wish…” he trails off, watching as your hands move upward to begin slowly undressing yourself.
           “Yes?” You prompt him teasingly, continuing your motions. “Don’t mind me.”
           Laszlo shifts in his chair, erection clearly visible by the bulge in his slacks. “I…I wish…” his voice trails off again as his eyes take in every inch of your skin that’s uncovered. “I wish to be with you in every manner. Intellectually, spiritually, physically. I wish to connect with you in a way I never will with any other living creature on this Earth. I wish to feel you around me, to bring you to climax. I wish to fill you, to be yours, to fuck you, to make you Mrs. Kreizler…”
           He stops at that, only becoming aware of his own ramblings you straddled him once again, completely nude.
           The faintest voice in his head wondered if you made him stupid, but it was silence as his eyes took you in completely.
           “You are the most gorgeous specimen I’ve ever been graced with seeing, my love.”
           You pull him in to a languid kiss, gently tasting each other as your hand travels down his chest.
           “You speak of love, of my being Mrs. Kreizler…” you start, almost losing your train of thought as you feel him twitch beneath you, your hips rolling to meet his. “Another day I’ll ask you to remind me of those words. But for now…” you lean forward, mouth grazing his ear, causing him to shiver. “I need you to fuck me, Doctor Laszlo Kreizler.”
           For all of your faith in him, you don’t expect the next feat of strength.
           With only his good arm he manages to lift the pair of you from the chair, quickly placing you upwards and onto the desk of his own study, mindless of the papers underneath you, of any others that might be in the building as you shriek in surprise.
           He captures your mouth with his, more forceful, captivating, as his good hand explores your form, grasping both of your breasts before heading downwards to the warmth between your thighs. His fingers collect some of the wetness that had escaped your folds and examines it with an almost mocking scientific fascination.
           “Is this all for me, my darling?” he questions, and you find yourself at a loss for words as he curiously lifts his fingers to his mouth, his tongue slowly tasting you off of them.
           “Fuck, Laszlo,” you whisper, reaching forward to pull him in for a kiss again as he chuckles darkly against you.
           His teasing ends when your hands wander downward, now working at the buttons of his slacks frantically, your palm grazing across his length through his pants, causing him to gasp.
           “My God,” he pants out, and you pull him out of his slacks. He’s hard, warm, rigid in your palm, with veins and girth that you hadn’t imagined in any of your fantasies, but was now all you could imagine filling you, ending that emptiness that you felt.
           “Please,” you whimper, and he gently removes your hand, before lining his cock up with your entrance.
           He meets your eyes, checking one last time to ensure this was what you wanted.
           “Laszlo, please –“your begging is cut short as he breaches you slowly, pushing his full weight forward as the pair of you connect.
           It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt.
           A tantalizing combination of pleasure and pain, your mind repeating an endless mantra of “Laszlo”, which you realize, when he’s fully inside, flush against you, that you’re muttering out loud.
           “Oh, my love,” he breathes, his damaged arm lightly resting on your thigh, his other gripping your hip so tightly you knew there would be marks.
           “You feel so right,” you mindlessly breathe, and you can’t help but moan at the feeling of him twitching inside you at the comment. You would remember that he likes praise, but…
“I don’t know that I will last long, my love,” Laszlo warns, his voice low, gravely, warm against your neck as he buries his face into it, pressing kisses into the skin of your shoulder.
It crosses your mind that you’re completely nude and he’s fully clothed, but the thought fills you with warmth rather than disappointment.
“Nor will I, but this will happen again, won’t it?” you question, a hint of doubt crossing your voice.
The Doctor silences it immediately, kissing you deeply. “Every night, every hour if you would let me, my darling. You are so wonderful…”
“Then please, fuck me Laszlo. I want to cum, I want you to fill me, I – oh!”
The first snap of his hips was relentless, and it was only more intense from there.
He was strong, sure of his movements, chasing his own pleasure and encouraging yours as much as he could, pressing kisses into your neck, your breasts, your lips, his good hand finding your hair tightly. Broken moans left you as dark, rasping breaths escaped him, and it was all too soon before you felt your peak approaching, familiar with the sensation from lonely nights with your own hand curiously working against yourself.
“Laszlo, Doctor Kreizler, I-“ at your moaning of his title, something in him snapped, and his teeth sunk into where your neck met your shoulder.
A deep cry left you as you reached your climax, a white-hot rush waving over you.
As your cunt clenched around him, Laszlo lost himself, growling his native German tongue as he lost his rhythm, heat filling you as he came.
You two didn’t have much time to come down from your highs, as the door to his home could be heard opening and closing from the floors below.
“Doctor Kreizler?” Sara Howard could be heard calling.
Your eyes wide, you rushed to put yourself back together, close wrinkled, roughly thrown back on and your hair being a wreck. You hoped you could pass it off as merely the result of a rough day, an intense mental break.
You turned to Kreizler, who was a picture of perfection, seeming to not be rattled by the events before…almost.
           “Back to the case…?” he trailed off, his voice filled with uncertainty, and you smiled fondly at the terribly awkward, intelligent man before you.
           You step forward and kiss him softly, the warmth between your legs and bruises on your thigh a reminder of what had just occurred.
           “Back to the case. We can continue our escapades when it’s all over, Doctor.”
           He chuckles, confidence returning to him as he nods. “I look forward to it.”
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kenzumekodma · a month ago
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18+, minors & ageless blogs dni
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pairing: denki kaminari x fem!reader
wc: 1369
warnings: impact play, switch!reader, switch!denki, unprotected sex (✨condoms✨ or your preferred method of protection, my dudes), probably mistakes because i finished this 15 minutes before posting
find the rest of my kinktober masterlist here!
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“Woah, what’s that?” you hear Denki call from the other room, followed immediately by a faint buzzing sound.
“For fuck’s sake, Kaminari,” you groan. Once, just once, can’t he keep his nose out of everything? The can of soup you were reaching for drops to the floor as you hear a loud thwack.
“Holy shit!” Denki sounds excited despite the sound. You rush back to your bedroom and find your friend holding a riding crop, vibrator laying forgotten on the bed but still going strong. “You’re into that kinky shit, aren’tcha?” he grins at you. His sleeve is rolled up and you can see an angry, red rectangle forming on his forearm.
“Give me that!” you reach to swipe the crop away from him but he’s quicker. As you dart forward, he brings it down hard on your ass, giggling away. “Ow! New rule: no touching things until you know how to use them,” you declare. Denki makes no move to relinquish the crop.
“No fair,” he pouts.
“Look, if you want to know how to use this stuff, I can teach you. But you’ve got to give that back to me,” you say pointedly. Reluctantly, he hands you the riding crop. You pick up the vibrator, turn it off, and toss it back on the bed.
“How can you teach me if I can’t touch it?”
“Take your jeans off, Denki. And, get on your knees.”
He gulps, but obeys, taking his shirt off as well. White and black striped boxer briefs with lightning bolts plastered on them cling nicely to the curve of his ass.You shake your head. “Of course you’d wear your own merch,” you chuckle.
“Hey, I make it look good,” he protests, looking behind his shoulder.
“Of course you do, pretty boy,” you coo, tapping him gently with the crop.
“W-what did you call me?” The most delicious pink decorates his cheeks and nose.
“Pretty boy. Keep up.” you tap him gently again.
“R-right,” he says. He’ll be the first to admit he’s found you attractive from the first time you had met. In fact, he still makes passes at you, although they’ve become more joking and out of habit the closer you’ve gotten as friends. You taking control? Telling him to take off his pants and get on his knees? Way out of left field, but Denki Kaminari is not a man to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“The first thing you need to know is where to hit someone to make it fun pain instead of unpleasant pain,” you say, your hands ghosting over his ass. You grab a handful of the cheek, just above his thigh. “Here is a good spot, because there’s more fat to cushion the blow.”
“I always knew you thought my ass was fat,” he teases. You smack him just a bit harder where you’d shown him. He hisses, feeling his cock swell to life beneath the thin fabric of his underwear.
“Second rule,” you say, ignoring his remark. “Don’t hit anyone harder than they can handle. Know your own strength. And try it out on yourself first. I won’t let someone use something on me that they haven’t had used on themselves first because I want them to know what they’re doing. And always, always listen to what they want and can handle,” you stress. “Ask them, check in. Like this.” You swing the crop a little harder again, making satisfying contact with Denki’s ass. “Was that too hard, pretty boy?”
“No,” he groans. “Give me another,” he says. You tap him twice with the crop gently. “Please,” he adds.
You pull his boxer briefs down his thighs, and land your first hit to his bare skin. From behind, you see the way his balls and cock twitch at the impact.
“One more and then you can try on me, okay?” you promise him, rubbing soothing circles on his bright red skin.
“‘K-kay,” he whimpers.
You land one last hit over the previous ones, and Denki lets out a moan. You lean down to kiss his sore cheeks.
“Last thing. Always make sure you take care of your partner afterwards. Make sure the both of you are feeling good coming down from it, okay? It’s really important. It’s not just physical, it’s psychological too.”
He nods, wincing as he turns his body around and sits on the bed. Your eyes trail down his body and you realize you’ve never seen him anything less than fully clothed before. His body is toned, befitting a pro hero, and his cock is long, veiny, with a leaking, angry, red head. Unconsciously, you lick your lips.
“Pants off,” Denki tries commanding. You do as he bids, settling onto your hands and knees where he was just moments ago. He slides your panties down your thighs, taking his time massaging and kneading the swell of your ass. Finally, he picks up the crop. He takes a light, experimental swing and lands a soft tap to your cheek.
“You can go harder,” you assure him. He lands a slightly harder blow over the same spot. Something inside him switches at the sound of your keen, something that makes him want to be the only one pulling these noises from your throat. “A-another, please,” you ask him.
“I can’t say no to such a pretty girl, can I?” he asks, landing another over the same spot. He does it again, to your other cheek now, and he watches as your folds glisten for him in real time. He spots the bullet you’d discarded earlier beside you. “Can I try something?” he asks. You nod your head.
“Go ahead, make me feel good,” you moan as he drags his fingers along your lower lips. He turns the vibrator on and glides it along your folds before sliding it inside your walls. You whimper at the sensation.
“Want you to touch yourself, get yourself off while I hit you with this. You wanna do that for me, pretty girl?” he asks.
“Y-yes, please, thank you,” you groan, gathering your slick on two fingers before rubbing circles around your needy, puffy clit.
He lands a series of light blows to your ass, revelling in how you squirm and whine for him. He can’t take it anymore, though. Denki tosses the crop onto the mattress and lines the tip of his cock up with your entrance.
“Can I?” he breathes out.
“Please, fuck me,” you whine.
He doesn’t need to be told twice. He slides inside you and moans loudly. The vibrations of your other toy echo through his dick and you’re creaming around him in seconds. Your choked whimpers egg him on, though, and he starts fucking you in earnest. Fuck, he’s going to have to buy one of those bullet vibrators for himself, it feels so fucking good when he’s buried to the hilt, claiming your pussy as his own. It wouldn’t feel as good, though. Not without your fluttering walls, your easy whines, your whimpers of “‘s too much, ‘s too sensitive, Denki! ‘M g-gonna--!” as you cum around him for the second time in only a few minutes.
This time, he feels himself follow you, using the last of his common sense to pull out of you with a grunt. Spurts of white paint your reddened skin. His first piece of art using two colours, he thinks to himself as you collapse onto the bed in front of him.
“F-fuck,” he groans. The buzzing sound coming from your cunt snaps him back to his senses, your legs twitching until he turns the vibrator off and eases it out of you. “Let me get you cleaned up, pretty girl,” he says. He quickly leaves for the bathroom, returning momentarily with a damp cloth to clean you up and soothe your abused skin.
“You did well for me, pretty boy,” you say, a fucked out smile gracing your features.
“You were so good for me, too, pretty girl,” he says, pulling you into his side on the bed. You sigh contentedly and curl into him, taking refuge in his warm scent and strong arms. “What other toys are you hiding from me?”
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sunflowerbecca · 16 days ago
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not as planned ✰ jj maybank
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summary: when you’re forced to look for the gun that killed gavin, it doesn’t go the way it’s expected when rafe intervenes
notes: i wrote this super quick just to get back into writing, it’s not great but enjoy anyway!
requested: yes/no
warnings: swearing, almost drowning
“But I don’t want to do it.”
“Well I don’t want to.”
“Yeah and we can’t so it’s gotta be one of you.”
Kie steps back and turns to look at you, rolling her eyes at JJ’s statement.
“Rock paper scissors?” She questions, pulling her arm upwards to get ready.
“Sure.”
The three words are repeated quietly by the both of you, the sound of your fists hitting your palms slightly echoing through the short tunnel. Your hand quickly converts into ‘scissors’ on the third hit, while Kie looks confused.
“I thought we always did it on shoot.”
“Oh my god.” You mumble before you both set up and play again. Your turn is unsuccessful as you lose to her ‘paper’.
“2 outta 3?”
“Nope.”
“Fine.” You comment staring around at the small group, “Just for the record I hate you all.”
“Yeah okay, sure princess.” JJ smirks as he nudges you towards the opening.
You rolled your eyes at the boy once again before crouching down. Dropping to your knees you begin to crawl forward, the water covering your hands and the bottom of your legs.
“This is so gross!” You blurt out thinking of the unknown horrors that could be lying within the tunnel.
“You’re alive? Got a heartbeat and everything?” Pope asks as your figure disappears when the light grows low.
“For now!”
Eventually you reach the catch basin and, once standing on your feet, you lean down searching for anything sitting at the bottom. Something solid hits your hand, wrapping your fingers around it you pull the unknown item up. A rough semi-white piece of bone sits in your hand.
Quickly you throw it back down, causing a small splash before it sinks back to the bottom.
“Oh my god, ew, no.”
“What? What happened?” JJ questions loudly, the sound echoing in the small space.
“There’s something dead in here!”
Suddenly, at this remark, you can hear Kie pretend to gag at the revelation as the boys banter between themselves.
“Kie you’re not exactly helping!”
An unknown sound begins to fill your ears and you look around to find the source. It grows louder and louder as it seems to be moving closer to you.
“Hey what’s that noise?”
“What?” Pope says as he looks through the opening.
Water rushes in and begins to flood the space. It would have swept you off your feet if you weren’t luckily holding onto the ladder.
“Guys! The water!” You exclaim loudly. Desperately you reach up for more ladder rungs, trying to get yourself as high up as possible.
“Shit! Come back!” JJ yells as the three pogues grow frantic.
“I can’t! It’s-” Your cut off as some water gets in your mouth. It makes it’s way into your lungs and causes you to cough harshly.
“Guys there should be a manhole, come on!” The group struggles to get around the oncoming flow of water before making their way up the small bank. They begin to sprint down the street as they listen for you.
Kie spots your fingers coming through the grate, pointing it out to the boys. Immediately they begin to pull but the solid metal barely moves. JJ pulls his switchblade out of his pocket forcing it around the outside of the circle, trying to break it free from the surrounding pavement.
Fortunately the grate gives way quickly and they yank it off. Pope reaches downwards and manages to grasp your wrist. With the help of the others they pull you up and out of manhole. You collapse on the road, coughing and gagging on water as it exits your lungs.
“Are you okay?”
“What just happened?”
“You alright?”
“Yup,” you mutter with a hoarse voice, “just great.”
JJ kneels down next to you, slightly pulling you into his side after realizing your arms are shaking from holding yourself up. After a minute you slowly push yourself up so that you’re kneeling and reach towards the waistband of your shorts.
“Hey, I mean,” You pause as confused looks fall around you, “at least I got the gun, right?”
Kie immediately breaks out into laughter as JJ smiles. Pope cracks a small smile at the mention too before nudging your arm with his elbow.
“Well, let’s go put this motherfucker in jail!” JJ announces as he stands and grabs the gun to see for himself.
“Can we take a minute? I literally almost died.”
“Yeah, I guess so.” He comments and pulls you up into a tight hug, “Good job baby.”
taglist: @samwlscns @jemimah-b99 @mitchloveswriting @luvlexiegrey @luvhann @honeymaybank @fonduefortwo @outcrbcnks @nope-thanks @pogueslandia @ofherscarlettwitchways @sunset-styles
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readdressmeasduchess · 8 months ago
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Imagine: Flirty MC
I'm stuck on the idea of the Ramshackle Perfect being extremely flirty, like ikemen style of successful flirting. It's come to the point where I'm thinking of creating an OC for an AU. Being flirty, but in the obvious and slightly smug way where they're aware they're attractive. Imagining how all the boy would react to such a person is really fun because the dynamics are super fun to play with.
Imagine:
Riddle: Does not know how to handle it, flustered and blushes easily. It's fun to play with him because he's so reactive, scolds you for the behaviour, but it's hardly intimidating because he's red all the way to the tips of his ears.
Trey: awkward laugh, he finds it easiest to deal with when he thinks of it in a joking way, if he takes you too seriously he's gonna feel like spontaneously combusting. Unused to the boldnes, but admires the honesty and confidence in the approach.
Cater: flirts back all the way, is very playful about it. Acts slightly coy and actively encourages it. However you can catch him off guard if you do something to insinuate you're serious about romacing him and suddenly he's trying to regain his composure by playfully shoving your shoulder and giggling, meanwhile his heart is racing.
Ace: acts all cool like he isn't losing his mind on the inside, trying to one up you at every turn like he's the most amazing player in the game, but fails miserably if you get too close to him, boasts about it and his pride surges if you flatter him a lot while trying to flirt with him.
Deuce: Practically stutters through his response just barely. It shocks him how obvious your approach is, it makes his heart flutter and mind reel every time you whisper praise to him. He's too inexperienced for this so he's vulnerable to any and every attack to his heart.
Leona: Not impressed, acts nonchalant and stoic, but by the swish of his tail you could tell he's amused. Enjoys the attention, but acts like he's above it, even if it makes his chest swell with pride every time you compliment him.
Ruggie: laughs like you said the funniest joke ever, but actively encourages the affection, who's he to deny it when someone appreciates his hardwork and efforts? If he notices you're serious though his heart starts beating quicker.
Jack: his face is schooled in a neutral expression, but his cheeks are red and his tail is blur of white fluff behind him from how fast it's wagging. When he approaches you he doesn't expect you to always praise and flatter him, but he wants it so he tries to subtly and discreetly stear the conversation in that direction.
Azul: someone get him his octo pot this is not- he's so unprepared. He tries to act cool, calm and collected, but fails miserably because the tips of his ears are red and he can't look you in the eyes much. It's amusing in the best way possible.
Jade: he's hard to crack because his face is always neutral, but the way his grin sharpens every time you flirt with him, trading coy smiles and smart remarks doesn't go unnoticed. He's smiling more genuinely than he's aware of himself every time he's with you.
Floyd: Shrimy?!? Oh he's so happy, flirts back to the best of his abilities, craves physical confirmation through hugs and "squeezes" Loves the attention, even in his most foul moods it brings his preppy personality back. Somewhat brags about it, just really loves the flattery.
Kalim: Lovingly reciprocates all the affection, or at least as much as he can, considering how most of the more seductive and coy remarks fly over his head. Blushes, but laughs it off in an effort to not seem shyly embarrassed even though he is.
Jamil: You'd think he's okay, but he buries himself into the deepths of his hood at every chance he gets, the casual flirting he can brush off most of the time. However he gets incredibly flustered at any moment you try to initiate physical contact or insinuate you hold a deeper affection for him.
Vil: Generally amused by your attempts to grasp his heart. Is mostly unaffected because he's used to this type of affection, but becomes flustered sometimes if you persist with the smart and flirty remarks that purposely poorly hide your appreciation for his attractiveness. To himself he wonders how you have the audacity, the boldness to speak so shamelessly and make his heart race!
Rook: Preens at the attention and flirts back seemlessly, is extremely casual with the flirting and doesn't think twice, people might think you're a couple who loves pda because of how easily you throw pick up lines and compliments at each other with no regard for your audience. Adores the confidence.
Epel: Blushes, his ears are bright red and he's clutching his heart with both hands like a fair maiden unconsciously, works his hardest to flirt back, sometimes he's successful, but he becomes too confident too quickly and easily loses and disintigrates to a bubbling mess as soon as you say how handsome you find him.
Idia: He squeaks in alarm every time he runs across you, he's not mentally prepared! He doesn't have the stats to survive this. Every time you flirt with him he's reduced to a mess, stuttering and burning red. He takes critical damadge in your presence, will never get used to it ever. He's fun to tease.
Ortho: is a baby. No flirting. You treat him like the child he is.
Malleus: doesn't understand, is incredibly confused with each attempt. It isn't until you switch to old courtship tactics that his mind catches up at which point he playfully and amused allows you to 'court' him. Sometimes he blushes when you kiss his knuckles or refer to him as 'dearest', or anything along the lines.
Lilia: Laughs excitedly, it's been too long since he's been courted like this. You're so bold, little one, aiming for his heart in this way. But he's no youngster, he flirts back expertly and it's a game of wits from that point on! The objective quickly becomes who can make the other person blush first fron how scandalous you're acting!
Silver: Doesn't anticapate the flirting, but rolls with it decently enough, he's a little shy, but will flirt back with his limited skill. Rapidly and unfairly improves each time you approach him. Has a naturally princely aura and is a natural charmer so it comes easily to him.
Sebek: Tsun ~Tsun~, as Malleus' guard he takes himself very seriously however he can not fight the blood rushing to his face every time you teased him, it was like a switch went off in his head yelling warnings about how he can't win this. Tries to scold you about how this behaviour is inappropriate, but he stutters and messes up every next word.
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Today's my last day when it comes to difficult exams or at least it should be, so I'm looking forward to finishing all the amazing requests I've gotten this weekend and I honestly can't wait to sit down and write, it's gonna be a nice break from studying
Wish me luck on my exams guys~
This was a small spark of inspiration I got and needed to write down to take my mind off things, it's a really fun prompt though!
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