#(until i figure out a less embarrassing name for him)

[art-ofatypical]

OC-Tober Day 3: Old OC

yeesh I've had Libby about half my life lol. awful stinky vampire man <3 bonus 2012 Libby under the cut

[cinnabeat]

augh english version of tcf novel is going to release soon...............i know theyre gonna call him alver.......must prepare myself for the psychic damage

[peachesofteal]

Raspberry Girl Previous + masterlist + AO3 Simon Riley/female reader CW: 18+ mdni, Reader POV.

His name is Simon.  

He’s still stuck in your mind as Captain Riley, like it’s dug in there, claws unwilling to let go, and he says you don’t have to call him Simon if you don’t want to. Which is comforting, in its own strange way. 

Comforting just like his presence, the one that’s been at the bakery almost every day. You’ve been trying to keep to yourself, agonizing over the moment when it all comes crashing down, when he figures out how weird you are, but it’s not that easy.

He doesn’t let you hide. 

“What do you do when you’re not at work?” You resist the urge to wring your hands together, keeping your focus on the sidewalk, concentrating on the cracks, the leaves. 

You’re on a walk. With him. He asked you earlier when he came by as you were closing up, before you moved on to the rest of your work. 

“Take a break. Walk with me.” 

You couldn’t say no, though it took longer than it should have to get your “yes” out. 

He didn’t rush you. He never does. 

“Um,” You’re not much of a doer. You bake, you go home, you read, you watch the occasional tv show or movie, you work on recipes. You learned to embroider last year, and sometimes you add little flowers or such here and there to your work aprons but there’s nothing outside those things, no extracurriculars or exercise, no circle of friends to get a drink with on the weekends. Sometimes you hang out with Mara, who works the front at the bakery, but it’s rare. You’re not good with friendships usually. You keep to yourself, and that’s fine. Everything is easier that way. 

You guess Captain Riley could be considered a hobby. All the minutes you’ve spent holding your breath and watching the front door, waiting for him to walk through and make his way to the counter, all the times you’ve caught yourself staring at his hands, thick wrists and palms the size of dinner plates. He could probably crush a skull between them, crush you. It’s unhealthy, the way you think of him. The way you daydream about a man who’s probably old enough to be your father. The way you close your eyes in the middle of the day when it’s busy and you’re overwhelmed and the sound of the dishwasher is grating on you, just to picture his face, hear him calling you baby, feel his-

He says your name. Oh right. 

You shrug, trying to feign indifference, trying to brush it off. “I’m usually at home. Work takes it out of me.” That’s true. Work can be exhausting. Bending, scraping, kneading, lifting giant mixing bowls, pulling dough until you’re tired. Wrists, elbows, neck, all of them, ache. Price you pay for passion, you suppose. “I’m pretty boring.” 

“No you’re not. Just a bit nervous, yeah?” Your stomach twists. 

“I like to stick to the things I know, I guess.” 

“Less scary?” The truth is full of shame and you wrap your arms around yourself, trying to raise a shield that doesn’t exist. A smoke and mirror act that wouldn’t fool anyone. 

“Yeah, less scary.” He’s silent for a beat, and then turns to face you on the sidewalk, a finger under your chin, tipping your head back until your eyes are locked on his. 

“It’s okay, y’know?” Embarrassment floods, fire burning in your cheeks, and he tsks, wiping one of the tears trying to trickle down your skin. “None o’ that.” You smile, but it’s hollow. 

“Sorry.” 

“None of that either,” he bites out, and your spine straightens like a string has been pulled from your tailbone up through your neck. “There’s nothin’ wrong with it.” With what? With you? He’s joking. You almost snort, but the seriousness in his gaze stops you short. Steals your breath. 

You’ve made it around the block already, standing in the parking lot of the bakery, twilight purple and orange shining in the reflection of the big front window. Disappointment settles in your stomach like lead. He’s going to leave now, go back to wherever it is he goes, and you’ll be alone, elbows deep in cream and sugar, trying not to think about him for the hundredth, thousandth time. 

Might as well rip the band-aid off. “Well, um. Thanks f-for, uh…” if you say thanks for the walk, will you sound dumb? Does that make it sound like you’re a dog or something he took for a stroll? “The walk.” Yep. Dumb. 

“Goin’ back to work?” 

“Mhm. I’ve got this catering order for early pick up tomorrow.” 

“What’re you making?” 

“Meringue. Lemon. Pies.” You cringe, but he places a hand on your shoulder. It’s warm, warm like a blanket, a soft fuzzy thing you can curl up with in front of a fire. “Meringue is really the thing about the pies. The rest of it doesn’t really matter, that’s why I- ah… why I put it first.” The two of you drift towards the back door, more so you in his wake, and when he closes it behind the two of you, it’s natural, you don’t even question it. Him. 

“It’s science.” You place the bowl in front of where he’s sitting on a stool, and try not to look at the bulk of his thighs. He’s in some sort of uniform, but it’s more casual, less stiff. The fabric breathes and stretches across his body, his chest, his middle… the heaviness of his legs. The room is suddenly very hot, and you try to shake the distraction off. “All of baking is a science, actually. Cooking, you can salvage anything. Cooking is easy. Baking? Baking is chemistry.” You pull the cradle of eggs over, and roll one in your hand before cracking it, separating yolk from white. “Meringue is a perfect example. It only has four ingredients. How hard can it be?” You feel a little thrill roll through you, the kind of excitement you get when you’re just about to start turning a handful of ingredients into something, and the pressure builds up in your chest, muscles in your arms and neck going tight as you fight against an overzealous outburst. You tense so hard you shake for a second before you get a hold of yourself. “If the eggs aren’t the right temperature, if the bowl isn’t clean enough, if you add the sugar too fast, it all falls apart. The protein in the egg whites mix with the sugar and make the meringue stable, it's literally chemistry. That's the cool thing about it.” You look between him and the hand mixer, and everything dries up. You’re suddenly very aware you’ve been prattling on about how to make meringue like he cares, and you have to hold onto the edge of the butcher’s block to practically keep yourself up. The mortification is enormous and threatens to drown you in its viciousness, vile things playing on a loop inside your head as you grapple with what’s just happened. Stupid. 

He’s standing before you can blink. “What’s wrong?” 

“N-nothing, I- I just uh… I’m sorry.” Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. 

“For what?” You shake your head, but he doesn’t let it go, just comes around to the side and covers your hand with his. Warm again. Safe. “Tell me what’s wrong sweetheart.” The gentle coax in his voice turns stern, and you find yourself obeying before you can stop it. 

“Meringue, it’s so… w-why would you care about meringue?” 

“I don’t know anything about meringue,” he rubs two knuckles against the apple of your cheek, “you were teaching me.” 

“Oh.” 

“Y’know you go somewhere else when you talk about baking?” 

“What? I do?” He nods. 

“You’re free from the scary bits. You’re excited and… weightless. It’s precious,” he cups your face, touch slow and careful, “like you, precious little girl.” The air in the room has vanished, and your knees go weak, struggling to support you as your pulse races, butterflies swarming in the pit of your stomach. 

“C-captain Riley- I-” He steps back, your heart free falls to the floor. He’s studying you like there’s a riddle to be solved, analytical and hungry, something razor sharp and rolling with darkness lurking behind it all. It’s so intense, too intense, but fleeting, and vanishes within a second. A light’s been snuffed out, leaving you in the cold and clueless. 

“Will you teach me the rest?” 

“Um, yes?” It doesn’t sound like the human language. More like a mouse’s squeak, and you glance around, trying to get your bearings as he leans against the table with his arms crossed. 

It takes you a minute, or ten, to get back in the rhythm. You have to start over, which is fine, but you’re shivering a bit too much to handle the yolk separation, a different kind of anxiety rattling in your bones. It’s not until he palms the small of your back and tells you to take your time, that you settle and succeed. 

By the time it’s over, you’ve made ten pies for your order and one extra. 

“Do you want to try?” You hand him a fork. 

“Course.” You’re on the edge of your seat as he takes his first bite, watching his jaw move, his throat bobbing with each swallow. Then he takes another, and another, and another until half the pie is almost gone. You try to smother your giggle, but the effort is paltry, and he smiles at you in return. “Somethin’ funny?” Your teeth press into your bottom lip so hard it stings. 

“Nope, uh… do you like it?” 

“It’s delicious sweetheart. You’re really good at this.” Tingles of pride flush through you from fingers to toes, and you bounce on the balls of your feet a little bit. 

“I’ll send the rest home with you.” You slide the pie tin into a box and he shakes his head.

“You don’t have to do that.” 

“I want to!” You blurt, and then bite your tongue, looking down at peaks of meringue. “I w-want to, it’s my-” you snap ‘love language’ back before it manages to escape, horrified at yourself. “I like it, feeding you, um, feeding people.” You’re sweating. You can feel it starting to bead along your spine, the back of your neck, and you wonder if you’ll get hot enough to melt into the floor and disappear. 

“If you’re sure,” he murmurs as he forks another piece of the pie free. “You didn’t have any though.” 

“Oh,” it’s your factory setting response at this point. Oh. Can’t you think of anything else? “Th-that’s okay, I don’t always eat my own… stuff.” 

“Why’s that?” You’ve turned fully towards him now, and he’s still so close, close enough to see the ribbons of caramel in his irises. 

“It’s not for me, usually. I mean, I eat of course, and taste test, but I don’t do it for me. I do it as a job and for other people.” 

“Hmm. That’s a shame,” the bite is still sitting there, waiting, and you’re just about to ask him if he’s going to eat it when he lifts it to your lips. “Open.” 

It’s not a request. It’s an order, a directive, and your thighs squeeze into one another, riptide of confusing want, desire, dragging you out to sea. 

Your lips part- 

and then Captain Riley is feeding you. It’s a small bite, tart-sweet on your tongue. Lemon and sugar crusted clouds linger as you swallow, but nothing matters except for the man in front of you, pulling a fork from your mouth, his eyes never leaving yours- 

“Good girl.” Heaven. Hell. Words disappear like you never learned a single vowel. Your body becomes a never ending live wire. You’re out of your element, you don’t even have an element, not truly. Your element is here, in kitchen of the bakery, alone with flour and sugar and piping bags. Your element isn’t… it’s not this. Not this man, this older man, this brutally handsome man who towers over you, this man with his perfectly imperfect nose and scar on his cheek, with big hands and a voice you could drown in. Not this man standing in front of you, telling you you’re a good girl, staring like he wants to consume you. “How’s that?” 

“U-uh, um. It’s… it’s good.” You don’t recognize your voice. It’s high pitched and trembling, the waver it in matching the shaking of your limbs, your entire body. 

“Do you want another?” Yes. No. You don’t know. 

“I…” you’re flailing, but he instead of pushing you, instead of trying to fit a circle into a square, he merely thumbs your cheek, drags the calloused pad down to ghost across your bottom lip.  

“It’s okay baby, take your time. Do you want another bite?” There’s a hummingbird in your chest, trilling a million miles a minute, and you nod automatically. 

“Please.” You whisper, and he obliges. You don’t care to have another bite of pie, but you do want more of this. So much more of something you’re not sure you can have, something you definitely don’t understand. Some sort of dream that doesn’t happen for people like you. 

Your phone vibrates. It lights up on the other side of the table and your stomach pitches, first out of panic, and then out of dread. 

Spell broken. Fairytale over. 

“That’s my bedtime. My bedtime reminder, I mean.” You just told him you have a bedtime like you’re five. Nice. “I’m usually in bed… by now. I get up really early on some days for prep and other stuff, and I’m a ten hours of sleep a night kind of girl, so, uh, I try to stay consistent with my routines and stuff, but I’m pretty bad at it. That’s why I have the alarm…” Stop talking. 

“I’m sorry I kept you.” 

“No!” You reach for him and then think better of it, fisting your hand at your side instead. “N-no, I’m glad you’re here. I just have this early pick up tomorrow, but it’s no big deal, I’ll-” 

“go home and go to bed. Do you have anything else you need to do?” Stern again, like he's serious about enforcing your bedtime, like he cares about you getting enough sleep. 

“Not really, I just leave the dishes in the sink for tomorrow.” He tucks the pie box into his arm and motions to the back door. 

“I’ll wait for you to lock up.” 

He gives you his number and makes you promise to text him when you get home, which you do, dutifully, laying in bed, curled up beneath your blankets, typing out a hazy message with one eye open. 

>Home. In bed. Thanks for hanging out. 

The text back comes only a few minutes later. 

>Goodnight sweetheart. 

>Goodnight Captain Riley. 

[suuuupernovaaa]

liar

summary: you thought joel felt the same, until he tells you otherwise.

the things that i lost here, the people i knew - they got me surrounded for a mile or two

MASTERLIST

I ain’t never gonna see you like that.

The words haunt you.

I ain’t never gonna see you like that, he said. Like he was embarrassed to find out how you felt about him. He winced when he said it. It makes you feel sick to your stomach to recall the words, the way he looked when he said them. You feel foolish, even now, months later.

At night, when you’re almost asleep, those words flash behind your eyelids and you wake up, hot and ashamed all over again.

You’d requested to be taken off patrol the next day, moved to stable and bar duty, and stayed there ever since. You would do anything to avoid Joel Miller, who was actually easy to avoid. He kept to himself and his family, avoided crowds, stayed away. You did your work during the day, served drinks at night, and went home.

It was bleak.

“I gotta say somethin’ now,” Tommy said to his brother, hours into a quiet patrol.

Joel just grunted, but he knew what Tommy was going to say, he thought.

“Remember last spring, that girl fell off her horse? She got a nasty cut on her elbow, would’ve sent bigger men to the clinic immediately, bleedin’ all over like that. But she got back on, even though she was embarrassed, without a second thought.”

“Hmm,” Joel nodded. He remembered.

“Your face was white when you saw the blood. And I know you ain’t scared of blood.”

Joel didn’t reply, but he knew what Tommy was getting at anyway.

He’d felt sick when he saw her on the ground, saw the blood dripping down her arm, and had almost pulled her off that damn horse himself when she got back on.

Not safe, not safe, not safe, his mind had said. An overwhelming need to protect had filled his mind, and he’d shoved it down, every day since.

“You crushed her with that lie,” Tommy continued. “I know ain’t my business, but you need to know. She ain’t over it.”

Joel glared at his brother, who just shrugged at him.

That lie.

I ain’t never gonna see you like that.

He knew he’d crushed her when he said it, but he figured she’d get over it. She was young, and beautiful, and there were better men for her than him. He’d seen that guy behind the bar staring at her with a look in his eyes that Joel knew all too well, and his hands had curled into fists at the sight of it.

It was news to him that she was still hurting.

Not safe, not safe, not safe, his mind yelled. How could he protect her from this hurt he’d caused?

xxx

You’d served what felt like a million drinks tonight, and were just about to hang it up and head home for another restless night. Your feet were sore, your arms too, and a headache was blooming.

You stopped to drink some water before grabbing your jacket.

“Done for the night?” Jason, another bartender, asked.

You nodded. “You mind? It’s quiet. I’m beat.”

He pulled the towel from his belt and flicked it at you teasingly. “Sure, abandon me.”

You smiled at him. Jason was probably your closest friend in Jackson, and he always had a kind if yet patronizing word for you. He was a good person - handsome, too.

Why weren’t you interested in him, you wondered for the thousandth time.

“See you tomorrow!” you waved to him, and left the bar.

The cold felt good. You stopped outside the doors, letting it wash over you and cool your warm cheeks. Eyes closed, you took a deep breath, feeling better already.

Until you opened your eyes, to see Joel Miller standing just a few feet away from you, staring.

Shit. Fuck. You pulled your hat on and stepped towards the sidewalk, meaning to hustle home - but then he called your name.

You faltered, but didn’t turn, until he called it again.

“Hey,” you said, turning to face him.

He’s stood just in front of you then. Less than a couple feet away. The closest you’d been since that night.

“Joel, I…” you said, a little emboldened by the drinks he’s brought for you.

“Yeah?” he asks in that southern drawl that makes your toes curl, his attention fully on you.

“I really like you,” you whisper, feeling silly but free at the same time.

His smile fades, replaced by a look of horror. “What?”

“Like… oh, don’t make me say it twice, please.”

He shakes his head and sets his drink down, and then he says it, wincing as he does.

“I ain’t never gonna see you like that.”

You stand up immediately, so fast your thighs hit the table, spilling a drink. Before Joel can say another word, you’re out the door, a shame blooming in your chest that you won’t be able to shake.

Joel tucked his hands into the pocket of his jacket. “Can I walk you home?”

You squinted at him. “Walk me home?”

He just nodded, offering no other explanation.

“Oh… sure.”

You turned to begin walking, slowly, allowing him to catch up and walk alongside you.

It was quiet for the first block or so, passing silent houses, some with lights on and some long past sleep. The dusting of snow crunched under your boots and his, the only sound, until he finally spoke.

“I was thinkin’ today about your first patrol,” he said. “When you fell off your damn horse and nearly broke your arm.”

“It was not even near broken,” you replied, finally looking at him.

“Looked like it to me. Blood everywhere. I was about to pick you up myself, take you to the doc, when you jumped up and got back on the damn horse without a second thought.”

You squinted at him in the dark, wondering what the hell he was getting at.

“I didn’t even know you then. But when I saw all that blood on your arm… I felt fuckin’ terrified. I couldn’t understand it. Some woman I didn’t even know, just a cut up elbow and I, I wanted to take you to my house and lock you in. Keep you away from all of it. From anything that could ever hurt you again.”

Your heart began beating fast in your chest. The winter air dried your mouth out. You kept silent and listened.

“And that scared the shit out of me, that… need. And it wasn’t just that. When you got back up and didn’t so much as flinch, I felt proud of you. You don’t need me to feel that way, but I did.”

He’d stopped walking, and you with him. He turned to face you, still a few houses away from your home.

“I ain’t good enough for you. I’m… I’m old, and I’ve done a lot of things I can’t undo. You deserve someone better, someone like that kid the bar.”

You raised your eyebrow. “But do you want me, Joel?” you asked.

He winced again. That same wince as all those months ago, and you understood now. Why he’d done it.

He’d lied. I ain’t never gonna see you like that. A lie he’d told, because he thought you could do better. A hurt he’d caused trying to do what he thought was best for you, in his arrogance.

“It don’t matter,” he said.

You pursed your lips together. “I don’t want Jason. Maybe I could have him, if I did. There are a lot of nice guys around here, maybe even handsome, maybe some who are interested and won’t lie to me. But I don’t want them, Joel.” You took a step, just one, closing the gap between the two of you, until you could feel his breath on your face.

“I want you. And you can either tell me you want me now, or leave me alone for the rest of our lives. I won’t be jerked around.”

His eyes, avoiding you until that moment, finally met yours. Brown and tired and determined, they were so beautiful, and it stung to look into them.

Until he kissed you.

Forcefully. His mouth on yours, his hands in your hair, his body pressed firmly to you.

You couldn’t help it, you moaned into his open mouth, and wrapped your arms around his waist, holding him tightly as his tongue ran along your bottom lip, begging for entrance that you allowed.

God, nothing had ever felt so good as this, and nothing had ever felt so right.

He pulled away to soon, but neither of you let go.

“I want you,” he whispered through heaving breaths after a moment, and finally, you smiled.

Your first real smile in a long time.

“Then I’m yours. But you have to agree to be mine too, and let go of the idea that the things you’ve done in your past matter to me. I don’t fucking care about that.”

He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to yours. “Alright,” was his only reply.

After a moment, you whispered, “Come home with me now.”

He smiled and pressed another kiss, soft and chaste, to your lips. “Yes, ma’am.”

[luvbabydoll]

— under their noses — chapter three

a series made by © luvbabydoll

they thought they had the upper hand.

they were wrong.

because after weeks of failed tactics, botched operations, and outright embarrassing attempts to confirm your identity.

you figured it out.

they were onto you.

and instead of panicking?

you decided to have some fun with it.

—

test one: name dropping

soap was the easiest target.

you caught him alone in the med bay, idly flipping through a field manual while he waited for a check-up.

the perfect opportunity.

you leaned against the counter, casual. “y’know, johnny, you really should be more careful out there.”

soap froze.

you never called him johnny.

only one person did.

his eyes snapped to yours, wide, suspicious. “…what did you just call me?”

you blinked, all innocence. “what?”

soap stared.

narrowed his eyes.

you just smiled sweetly. “oh, nothing.”

and then—

you turned away.

soap gaped. “oh, fuck off.”

—

test two: the familiar phrases

gaz was next.

you waited until the mess hall, right when the guys were eating, before striking.

they were mid-conversation—bitching about a long mission—when you passed by their table, humming thoughtfully.

then, completely offhand—

“poor things. bet you’ve all been working so hard.”

silence.

gaz choked on his drink.

soap dropped his fork.

ghost went rigid.

and price?

price just sighed.

because fuck, he knew exactly what you were doing.

you paused, tilting your head. “…something wrong?”

gaz shook his head. “…nope.”

you smiled. “good.”

and walked away.

behind you, gaz groaned into his hands.

soap hissed. “she’s fucking with us.”

ghost clenched his jaw.

because yeah.

yeah, you were.

—

test three: the final straw

ghost was the hardest to crack.

but not impossible.

you waited until a routine supply check, alone in the med bay, before making your move.

he stood across from you, arms crossed, watching as you checked inventory.

quiet.

observing.

so you sighed—soft, sweet, just like the voice they knew—and went:

“y’kknow, lieutenant, you really should relax more. i bet you’d be a lot less tense if someone took care of you.”

ghost stared.

didn’t blink.

didn’t move.

but you saw it.

the way his fingers twitched. the slow, controlled exhale.

and then—

“you little shit.”

you grinned. “what?”

ghost tilted his head. “you know what.”

you just shrugged. “hmm. do i?”

he glared.

you smiled.

and that?

that’s when everything fell apart.

[eraserbread]

gojo's holding back // megumi's babysitter x dad!jo

gojo's home this morning. you don't know how or why, but he's smiling, watching you take megumi by the hand to drop him off at school. It's just a seven-minute walk towards the city, but you still spend extra time kneeling in front of him at the doorway, buttoning his coat high and pulling gloves over his small, delicate hands.

he's pouting, hating the way his coat sounds when he walks. he always has, and he always complains to you, but you won't budge. in the middle of winter, the least you can do is make sure he's warm on his way to school.

"leaving without telling me first? that's harsh. " gojo's been back in his bedroom all morning, napping with one eye open after a long night at work. when he emerges, he's spikey-haired and sleepy—a reflection of his sweet son.

you smile in his presence, turning around to say your goodbyes. long, lanky legs only have him taking four big steps until he's crowding you two.

he's sweeping megumi up on his hip, hugging him with one arm. "look'a my handsome bundle. you warm, 'gumi?"

"put me down." megumi deadpans, but you can see the way he nuzzles a bit deeper in gojo's shoulder.

you feed gojo a laugh he's throwing at you, tight-lipped smile so familiar as you watch the two of them. "thought you were asleep."

"i was, but that's okay. I never see him off, so i wanted to be awake." his voice is so soft, genuine, and persuasive as he gives you unyielding blue eye contact. you have to look away just to maintain some mystery.

"dad, we're gonna be late." megumi whines, crisp white sneakers kicking in gojo's thigh. "tsumiki said she'd meet me right at 8."

"punctual and only six years old." gojo pinches megumi's nose, breathing out a laugh. "alright, kid. i won't keep you."

when megumi is back on his feet, he pouts and reaches back for your hand to tell you, 'i'm ready to go. ' you squeeze him back.

"i'll be asleep when you're back." he catches you just as you start to pull open the door. "make sure you're quiet for me!"

"'course." you turn back down to megumi, raising your eyebrows as he stands with a less-than-entertained look on his face. "c'mon, baby. i know you're eager to head out."

when you get back to the house after dropping megumi off, gojo isn't asleep like he promised—well, hardly—he's limp-necked, dozing in and out on the couch with the television on.

you don't notice his reflection at first as you shrug off your coat and shoes. all you had to do before your six-hour break was clean up after breakfast and start some of megumi's laundry, then you're free to leave.

you're texting a friend back when you round the back of the couch, phone clicking incessantly with your ringer on. it's hardly noisy, but it stirs the giant from his rest. he twitches.

"megumi get to school safe n sound?"

you stop just before you leave the room, heart pattering in your chest because his deep voice scared the hell out of you. "of course."

"that's my girl."

then, you're blushing like an idiot when he groans and stands up. "w-what?"

"when i adopted him, i was always insecure about his lack of a mother figure. it's why I hired you, and I'm so glad I did... i mean, you're just angelic."

he's definitely trying to tell you something—you're not stupid. you know he likes you—too much, as more than a transactional partnership. he was just too professional to say.

but never too professional to pin you to his couch cushion, hot and breathless against your skin as he kisses your neck. it's so embarrassing, so needy and pitchy when you whine his name, crying for more. he fucking loves this, he could just eat you alive.

"the need for you is just... it's suffocating, i apologize."

"don't." you bite, fist all bunched up in the back of his loose shirt. it's frightening just how many times you've stewed over this situation. how many sleepless nights and traffic lights you've endured with visions of crystal blue eyes. the guilt eats you alive, but it's like he said, the need is suffocating. it's insurmountable, you have to let him in.

you crane your neck for him, willing him to take his fill.

you feel so innocent under his big hands, so ethereal and motherly and downright delicious to satoru, that he has to stop.

he can't let himself have you, yet. you're far too pristine, his mind wouldn't allow it. even now with your sexed hair, blown pupils, and panting lips, he wants to pull you apart.

then, he asks. because he's nosey, yes, but more because of the way you're shivering underneath him right now. "are you a virgin?"

"no! i'm not a virgin." you're already overcome, so hot and overwhelmed under his headlight-gaze.

"because you're flailing like a newborn foal," he smirks, a gentle laugh behind his tone. his plush, pink lip drags through his teeth. fluffy white hair tickles your forehead as he kisses you again.

you conjure up every single piece of resilience in your soul to suppress a needy whine. he's been edging you for weeks now -- pulling you away to stare deep into your eyes or to suck your lips off. but that's always as far as it ever goes, you can tell he's rearing up to stop.

"please..." you're begging, not quite whining. fists digging in the back of his shirt to keep him close. "please, don't... stop this time."

"it's just so inappropriate," he hums, breath so hot and clean over your pouting lips. he's staring at them, tasting your flavor when he darts his tongue.

then, he's sitting up, ruffled shirt, fluffy-haired, and flushed pink. he's so godly, you could cry.

so, you do, palms pressed into your eyes as he stares down at you.

"oh - i'm sorr-

"don't even."

[bewitched-hours]

hellllooo :)

since you're asking for yandere stuff rn, could i get some yandere 7n7 and noli x reader? :3 (idk if u like 7n7 and noli as a ship, if u dont, u dont have to do this request !!)

the reader and 7n7 meet for the first time when they got forsaken and start getting along, and they have no idea that they both dated noli at some point in their pasts. that is, until noli is added as a killer and theyre both like

"MY EX-SITUATIONSHIP!? ......YOUR ex-situationship?!" and then thats when the yandere shit starts happening teehee

headcanons or oneshot, whichever u feel like writing! (also ive noticed you adding more suggestive stuff to the end of ur fics, so if u wanna do that here go ahead ;3)

-maomao anon :D

Dw Maomao anon, I'm a multi-shipper. As long as it's not illegal, I'm open to it! Also, that scene is so funny in my head because I imagine it's like- 007 and reader already started dating when Noli appears and are shocked to find out they have a mutual ex- (I imagine it like that one spiderman meme) Also- please forgive me for not making him glitchy mainly because the amount of stuttering I'd have to write in makes me slightly cringe-

Anywho, reader's pronouns are She/They for this~

You were never quick to judge.

I mean, you were a hacker in the past, that's why you and Noli were a situationship before you got caught.

You weren't so remorseful of it like 007n7 but you two still bonded over being outcasts with similar pasts.

Yet, neither of you ever dared to mention Noli... For some reason.

It wasn't like you were really ashamed of it, Noli was fun for a situationship and you broke it off amicably by the end...

But it didn't matter in this cursed realm. 007 was practically head over heels for you and you felt the same. Hell, you even found out one of the killers was his son and tried to help him cope to the best of your abilities.

Sometimes you'd even try to give him hope by saying things like "when we all get out, I'm sure he'll be back to normal and we could take care of him... Together..." which seemed to make a slight sparkle appear in his eyes.

You never even considered taking care of a kid before. But seeing how committed you were to your fellow ex-hacker, you figured you could at least try... For him...

007 actually did once manage to find an old picture of him and c00lkidd and you caught yourself actually tearing up over how cute the little bugger was.

What could you say? You were a sucker for cute things. (Probably why you fell for 7n7)

And when you were told of all the chaos? You couldn't stop laughing for what felt like hours. You were definitely gonna encourage the kid to be chaotic but maybe in more harmless ways... Wouldn't wanna upset 7n7.

It was a surprise to learn a new killer was being introduced so you joked about it being your ex, conveniently forgetting to drop his name. 007 joined in on it, also conveniently forgetting to say his name.

How embarrassing to learn that you were both talking about the same person...

Regardless, you and 007n7 stuck with each other for the round. You were a little thankful the Spectre at least had a tendency to spawn you with the one person in this realm you could comfortably team up with.

Being that you were a support, you were able to compliment each other in your strategies quite nicely.

Although your strategies were usually just to protect 007 and yourself while he worked on teleporting you both away from the killer... You sadly couldn't heal...

But imagine the shock when you heard Noli's voice in the distance and both you and 007n7 suddenly stopped dead in your tracks, looking behind you to see Noli approaching before taking notice of your mutual shock that quickly turned to realization.

Oh for the love of- you have a mutual ex-situationship...

"Well, lookie here!" Noli chuckled. "Both my ex-situationships made it back to me! And together no less!" His words almost made you both blush. What was he implying with 'back to him'?

"Noli... What-" You barely managed to get out before he suddenly stood before you and 007, sending shivers up your spine as you tried not to scream in surprise. Although, you were holding 7n7's hand tighter-

"I might not be able to spare you two but considering you've never left my heart, how about I leave you for last, make it quick and as painless as I can and then we meet up during rounds where we're all free!" He sounded like he had genuinely missed both you and 007, causing the two of you to give each other a questioning look before shrugging. "Good! Can't have my darlings running off and having fun without me!"

He disappeared almost as fast as he came, leaving you and 007n7 to stare at each other in shock for a couple of seconds before continuing on while you talked.

"Was he just saying what I think he said??"

"I guess?? Are you even okay with it?"

"I mean- Yeah- You're both good partners in your own ways and I admittedly still have feelings lingering there... Just sucks he's a killer now..."

You both went on to reminisce on your pasts with Noli, chuckling at the chaos and audibly wondering what he might be thinking of doing during your off-time. Of course neither of you dared to allow any nsfw thoughts into the conversation since you had only just reunited with the killer and are already talking about being a polycule. Were you going too fast? 007 didn't seem to be bothered...

Unlike Noli's promise, you both survived until the end, having managed to evade him and having all generators done.

You had no trouble sneaking out of the cabin when the participants of the next round were declared, considering the other survivors were used to 007 and you taking your off-time to your shared cabin.

But you weren't heading for your cabin this time. Instead, you were heading further out to find Noli. Presumably in the middle of the map.

Where was the middle? Neither of you had the slightest idea. You didn't even know where the Killer's cabin was so how would you know where the middle is?

Regardless, it seemed you were lucky in a way. Noli had been looking for 007 and you as well and almost hugged you both half to death when he could finally interact with you without needing to kill you. It was... Oddly sweet...

The three of you went on to just talk about everything that had happened without each other while you sat absentmindedly on 7n7's lap. A habit you had formed and never bothered to correct. At first it was to help him calm down after nightmares by letting him hold you like a stuffed toy but then it escalated into a habit you did as a form of reassurance or comfort... Or simply just affection-

And it wasn't surprising that Noli wanted in on this.

"Maybe you'd enjoy some love from both sides, my dear?" He chuckled, watching your face flush as him and 007 practically held you in a sandwich cuddle pile and began spoiling you with kisses. All that love practically made you melt right into their grip.

It didn't help that you were all alone and were close enough to feel them both...

Yeah, you'll be dead before you even try bringing up that situation.

Wow I've been procrastinating on this

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

[clockwayswrites]

A Hill to Die On ch2 (mostly)

ch1(ish) this is a first draft, please no editing or concrit <3

This is most of Chapter 21, cutting out the smut. IT DOES SPICY🌶️⚠️: alludes to smut the night before and blatant talk leading into more.

Tim wasn’t in his own bed. He wasn’t in his Manner bed either. He was pretty sure it also wasn’t the spare bed at Jason’s or Kon’s bed. It wasn’t Stephanie’s or Bart’s or one of the Titan Tower beds. No, this was a stranger’s bed. That should worry him, Tim knew that, but the worry didn’t come.

Instead of worry, Tim felt calm, pleasantly satiated, and sore.

Tim knew why.

Caroline clung to him, like the heavy remnants of a dream. She was right there, pressing against the back of his mind and assuring him that this was all fine. More than fine even; she was quite pleased.

Grudgingly, Tim opened his eyes and blinked up at the nondescript ceiling. Trying to remember what had happened last night was like watching through low resolution clips of time. Things were rather clear at the start and became less clear as time went on. But he very much understood why he was sore and just how much Caroline had enjoyed himself.

Tim was sure he was blushing an embarrassing amount as he carefully sat and swung his legs over the edge of the side of the bed. Yep, sore. Right, well. Tim cleared his throat as if that would also clear up his embarrassment. How was he supposed to act after sleeping with a complete stranger?

“I thought I heard you awake, gorgeous,” the guy—Danny, his name was Danny—drawled from behind Tim. “I know it’s not the right sort of thing for you, but I put some lounge pants and a shirt in the bathroom for you if you want to shower. Pancakes will be up in about fifteen or so, but take your time.”

“Ah, thanks, that’s nice of you,” Tim said.

He waited until he heard Danny walk back off to wherever the kitchen was before he got up and slipped into the bathroom. All of Caroline’s clothing had been folded into a neat pile, other than the lacy underwear, which were washed and drying on the towel rack. Which was rather sweet.

Tim added the bra to the pile, stretching out the feeling of having worn that all night.

Figuring out how to get the shower turned on and hot was a puzzle, showers always were, but Tim managed it smoothly enough. Danny’s shower actually got decently hot too, and Tim took advantage of that to stand under the spray and just try to center himself.

Should he pretend to be Caroline?

Should he come clean?

He didn’t know what was best… or safest.

But Danny was safe. Tim hated that the certainty of that lingered in his mind, but it did. Caroline was convinced that Danny was safe, at least in these regards. He supposed she must have to lingered like this and still be at Danny’s place in the morning. Tim took a deep breath, breathing in the citrus scent of Danny’s shampoo he as using, and let it out slowly.

Okay, truth it was.

The shower had washed away the last of Caroline, which meant it was only Tim standing in the kitchen, trying not to fidget. He was better than fidgeting, he had been a Robin. But he really wanted to right then as he waited for Danny to turn from the stove.

Danny dished up some bacon onto a plate and turned the stove off before turning. “Turkey bacon,” Danny explained with a little raise of the plate before he set it on the little table which was rather full, “and we have scrambled eggs and, of course, pancakes. Take a seat and dig in.”

“That all sounds great.” Tim didn’t move.

Danny tilted his head with a little frown. “Is everything alright? If, ah, this is too much it’s okay if you just want to leave. I don’t usually… do one nightstands so if I’m breaking some sort of taboo with this I’m sorry.”

“No,” Tim said quickly, “it’s not you, it’s me. Wow, not like that. Sorry. I guess I’m just a little awkward about this. I don’t really do this either. Well, that’s not—I don’t do this. I’m sorry, I’m making an absolute mess of this. I guess, just, okay. I guess I should start by saying you should call me Lin. I’m not… exactly Caroline right now.”

He wasn’t ‘Lin’ either, but no matter what Caroline thought he wasn’t going to give Danny his real name. He was too recognizable for that.

Danny sat down slowly in the chair closest to him. “Are you… not Caroline right now because of how you’re dressed or because you’re not Caroline because you’re someone else now?”

“Oh,” Tim wiggled a handy. “Both but more of the second?”

“Okay,” Danny said, his tone careful in a way that made Tim tilt his head curiously. “Are you… freaked out by waking up somewhere different? Do we need to talk about… anything that happened last night?”

“Oh, oh no,” Tim replied quickly. “I’m mostly aware of what happens when I’m Caroline. Besides I was sort of… in between when I woke up this morning. We’re good.”

Danny shoulder’s slumped and he ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back. “Okay, good. I really didn’t want—because everything last night was very, enthusiastically consensual and—”

“We’re good, really,” Tim reassured Danny. It was actually pretty sweet how worked up Danny was about this. “Caroline didn’t do anything—okay, well she does it more freely than me, but, ah, let’s just say we’re in agreement about you.”

Danny looked surprised before a frankly adorable smile curled his lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, though maybe don’t get too smug about it,” Tim said with a little shrug and finally took a seat at the table. “I never said either of us had good taste.”

Danny’s surprised laughter was a nice sound. “Don’t worry, I know I’m not hot stuff. The attention is still flattering. I spent most of the night not sure how I ended up with Caroline in my bed.”

Tim rested his chin on his hand, watching Danny curiously. “Even though she’s not what she looks like?”

“Like I said last night, any combination of bits is a good combination.”

“That usually doesn’t mean… personalities,” Tim pointed out.

Danny just gave a little shrug. “Nope. But as long as I haven’t hurt her, or you, then I don’t mind this either. Is it different? Sure. And it has me curious about things, but I’m curious by nature.”

“Curiosity killed the cat,” Tim quipped.

“But boredom killed it quicker,” Danny replied, finishing the verse.

It was Tim’s turn to smile. “I can’t say I’ll want to or can answer everything, but you can feel free to ask a few questions.”

After a considering noise, Danny took a few bites of breakfast as he obviously thought about what to ask. “So since you know things that happened as Caroline, does that mean you have the same preferences about things?”

“Nope. Caroline’s go to drink is a martini. I like whiskey better,” Tim said, thinking to last night. “Or she likes eggs that are runny but I hate that.”

“Huh, okay. Does that keep going to more serious things too?”

Tim tilted his head and took a bite of the rolled up pancake he had just buttered. As far as morning after breakfasts went, this was pretty nice. “Serious like what?”

“Well, like, last night. Take… a blow job. How would Caroline like one?”

“She wouldn’t,” Tim said easily. “She might give one, but mostly to get someone worked up to fuck her.”

Danny chuckled, a low sound that made Tim want to lean in closer to where Danny lounged in the other chair. “Okay. So you know that pretty easily. But what about you? What about Lin?”

Tim tilted his head. “Lin, I mean I like blow jobs, yeah.”

At least he was pretty sure he did. He didn’t do this sort of thing much as him.

Danny smiled like he was amused. “Okay. And any preference? Leaning against a wall? Pressing me against a wall? In bed? Sitting on the couch. Right here in the kitchen with your legs thrown over my shoulders?”

Tim swallowed reflexively. If Tim was Alvin right then, he’d want Danny on his knees, back pressed against the wall while Alvin held his jaw open and fucked his face. But for Tim… “That last one, please.”

“Please as in now?” Danny asked.

“Yes, please,” Tim said, the words much more blatant begging than he had intended.

“Okay, sweetheart.” Danny drawled the pet name in a slow, easy way that reminded Tim of whipped honey. “But you gotta be good for me and let me hear you.”

-

[Smut goes here. Tim has a very good time.]

-

“No pressure, but here’s my number,” Danny said. He was holding out an actual slip of paper folded in half. He ducked his head a little. “You know, if you or Caroline or you and Caroline want to reach out.”

Tim took the slip of scrap paper, the back of some cut up sales sheet and tapped it against his fingers. “You’d want to hear from both of us?”

“Yes, of course! As long as that won’t cause any issues between you and Caroline. And, I mean, obviously I’d like a heads up who I was talking to,” he said with a shy, crooked smile.

It made Tim give a little laugh. “I bet, it would get real confusing otherwise. I can get another number for her and use it through an app. It keeps everything nice and separate for all of us.”

“Yeah? That sounds good,” Danny agreed. “And you’re sure you don’t want me to get you a cab or walk you to the station?”

“I’m sure. I’ll be fine. I’ve been running around Gotham my whole life.” Or close enough, anyways. “Besides, one of Caroline’s bracelets is a low level tazer.”

“Really? But to fit all of that in—sorry, off topic,” Danny said sheepishly. He leaned in and kissed Tim lightly on the edge of his lips. “Thank you for staying, and telling me who you were.”

“Thanks for being so great about,” Tim said. He stole a quick kiss himself before he slipped out the door. He was too tired for things to descend into another round of sex, not matter the position.

Just before he got outside Danny’s apartment building, he took the time to put Danny’s number in his phone and sent of a quick ‘and thank you for the pancakes’.

[purinfelix]

lost and found ✮⋆˙ - franco colapinto

pairing: reader x franco colapinto summary: when you find a curly-haired rookie lost in the wrong garage, you don't think much of it - that is, until he continues showing up, and you begin questioning his intentions w/c: 1.3k (wow jet writing an actual long-ish fic? you better believe it)

a/n: FIRST FRANCO FIC !!!! i've literally been having franco brainrot ever since azerbaijan so here you go (this is your sign to send in franco requests <3)

You spot him out of the corner of your eye nervously ducking out of the way of engineers and strategists, as you prepare for the race ahead. Considering that this is the Red Bull garage, his bright white fireproof sticks out like a sore thumb and when you turn to look at him, his own eyes widen in embarrassment - confirming your theory that he's lost. He's that newbie you've been hearing about, frank? or something, you don't really care to be honest, but he's in the wrong garage and even though he's not one of your drivers you're sure Williams is worried about where he is.

"Are you alright?" you say, and he stops his frantic looking around to look at you with flushed cheeks.

"Yeah, I'm-"

"In the wrong garage," you say flatly, trying your best to stay serious and hide how amused you are at this.

"Yes, I got that, I just can't figure out how to get back to mine," he laughs in a slightly offended tone.

You nod, feigning annoyance as you silently walk ahead and hope he knows to follow you. "Look kid, I don't know if this is your first time on a paddock but you can't really be wandering around other team's garages, even if you are lost. It kind of looks like you're spying on us or something and feeding information back to whoever you've reserve driving for."

His footsteps pause behind you. "Who are you calling Kid?" he scoffs, equal parts irritated and entertained.

"Huh? Well, how old are you? You don't look older than 19."

"I'm 21, thank you very much," he spits out, crossing his arms with a smug look, "and how old are you?"

You pause, awkwardly looking around, "20, but it's clear I have a lot more experience in this than you do." You huff and spin back around, trying to ignore the fact you can hear him stifling laughter.

As you finally make it back to the Williams garage, you open the door and let him in through it, but before he does he pauses to turn you.

"Thank you-" he says, pausing for you to give him your name, and even though you're reluctant to give him the opportunity to spread the news about this embarrassing encounter, you do anyways. Something about the way he looks at you, eyes expecting and a smile toying at his lips, you feel strangely like you'd do about anything he asked.

"And you are?"

"Franco," he says, with an earnest smile, almost as if he's enjoying this situation more knowing how awkward you feel. "I'd wish you good luck, but I doubt you guys will need it," is the last thing he says before he disappears back into his own garage.

And even though you feel a little flustered about the entire situation, you shake it off and head back to your own area, determined not to let it get the best of you - not now, not before a race. You don't even think of him again, besides an occasional glance up when you hear his name said by a commentator, or when you spot his car coming into the pit lane, but that's nothing outside the realm of your duties as a mechanic. You really couldn't care less about him, you tell yourself, and you feel as though you'd be perfectly fine never crossing paths with him again.

But he doesn't seem to share the same idea, because the minute the race is over and you're turning to join the rest of the team out near the podium, you spot him lingering near the door of your garage once more.

"Lost again?" you say as you walk up to him, trying your best to keep as straight a face as you can.

"Not anymore," he replies once he sees you, a reassured smile on his face, "did you see how I did?"

Two feelings wash through you simultaneously - one rational, one asking who the hell this guy is and why the hell he thinks you'd be watching him instead of the very team you work for, and the other a sense of embarrassment, because as much as it pained you to admit, you had been watching him.

"8th?" is all you say in response - not wanting to give too much away about how you felt.

"Yeah, my first points!"

"Well, it's hardly a podium," you scoff, eager not to inflate his ego - after all, he was older than you and surely didn't need to be treated like a preschooler with gold stars. But the minute the words leave your mouth, you watch his excited expression change until slowly he dons a look of embarrassment. Your heart twists and you're suddenly reminded that for whatever reason, instead of celebrating with his team, his family, the girlfriend - which you were sure he had - he had come here, to tell you - someone he had met for the first time mere hours ago.

"Sorry, that was rude, congra-" you begin.

"Is that a challenge?" His voice is low, and it hits you unexpectedly.

"Pardon?"

"Are you challenging me, to get a podium? I mean, I'm still a rookie but I guess if I had a good enough motivator I could do it."

You're caught in a dilemma again, why on earth would you be motivating a different team's driver to do well? If anything, you should be doing the opposite, you had the opportunity to do something for the sake of your team right in front of you - albeit something definitely against FIA ruling - but for some strange reason you couldn't bring yourself to take it, instead playing into his game further.

"And what kind of motivator are we talking about here Franco," you pause to watch him smirk at the sound of his own name, "if you're after secret team intel I can't help you there but if you want, let's say, to know where to get the best coffee on paddock or-"

"How about your number?"

"Wh- Huh?"

"Your number? How about if I get a podium, you give me your number."

He says it so plainly as if it's a simple conclusion, and yet you're speechless. As you stand there silently taking in what he's just said you're equally aware of the fact that he's watching you, which only makes you more flustered.

"What for?" is all you manage to get out, and even though you know it's a stupid question, you want to be sure.

"Oh c'mon, you're a mechanic, surely you can't be that clueless."

"Right," you nod, looking down at your feet shyly and after a moment of silence his concerned voice pipes up again.

"I mean, I know we basically just met, and I know how ridiculous this is, so if you really don't want to I'm not going to force you into anything. You see, I'm really not that kind of guy, I'm actually really a gentleman and usually I'd-"

"Alright," you say definitively, cutting off his nervous rambling - which, if you're being honest, you can only just hear over the pounding sound of your own heart.

"Wh- really?" he asks in disbelief, even though he's the one who proposed the bet.

"Sure, if you can get a podium before the end of this race season, I'll give you my number."

Just at that moment, you hear the rest of your team filing back into the garage to pack up, as well as the distant sound of someone calling for Franco. You look up, partially to silently tell him that the two of you needed to be wrapping up soon, but mostly to watch his face turn from shock to a proud smile as he nods eagerly.

"Okay, yes, sure!" he says sort of breathlessly, "well I guess I'll see you around then. Same time next week?"

You let out a low laugh at his joke, "Sure see you then, and good luck." You watch him turn to jog out of your garage, and as he turns the corner you can still see a beaming smile on his face as he goes - leaving you with the weight of realising just what the hell you've gotten yourself into.

[impishjesters]

Insecurities

Ship: Jax x Reader, Ragatha x Pomni (background) CW(s): insecurities, vulnerable Jax, hurt no comfort(?), angst/reality check, cliff hanger, Zooble is briefly an ass and regrets it A/N: Apparently, I started writing this back when this account first started. It was quickly abandoned for whatever reason, and with no clue what its direction was, I simply left it as a cliffhanger because I'm evil. Not my best work.

Today was the day Pomni finally confessed to Ragatha.

After months of the two nearly attached at the hip, Pomni finally caved and came to you and Gangle for help, wanting to do something special. The poor girl was filled with so many emotions that it took the two of you countless reassurances that Ragatha returned her feelings

Pomni wanted to do something for just the two of them, mumbling that it’d be less embarrassing if Ragatha turned her down with no one else around. Mainly so Jax couldn’t use it as blackmail—even after you told her that you wouldn’t let that happen.

That said, she made you hide nearby, out of sight from Ragatha’s view, but still somewhere she could see to give her the confidence to confess. And it was a sight to behold.

Pomni was a mess. Her confession was all over the place, but even without seeing Ragatha’s expression, you could tell she was flustered as well. The moment Ragatha returned her feelings, you shot the two a silent “congrats”. Pomni made brief eye contact with you while they hugged, and you mouthed “I’m proud of you” before leaving the two lovebirds alone.

It wasn’t your place to spread the news; they’d come out when they wanted to. With that task done, you slipped off to find your mischievous boyfriend. Which didn’t take long if the cries of poor Gangle were anything to go by.

Hours passed since the confession, and Jax had taken off to do whatever questionable thing he was going to do, leaving you alone in your room to fend for the boredom on your own. When nothing felt right or entertaining, you settled on the bed, the lights dimmed as if lying down for a nap.

Your eyes closed, but sleep never came. What did come was the muffled sound of a door opening and then slamming shut, and not long after, your bedroom door flew open and slammed shut behind the individual storming inside.

The blanket fell to your lap as you bolted upright to see that your sudden guest was Jax. That slam must’ve been him going to his room to see you weren’t there before heading over here. But why was he slamming—ooookay, screw that question.

“Jax, what’s wrong?”

Jax stormed over to your bed and climbed up until he was over you, pushed you down, and dropped himself on top, burying his face into your chest. His only response was a muffled groan into the fabric. He wanted to tell you, but his brain was still reeling, and his emotions weren’t in check.

You didn’t press him for a response, and he gave his silent thanks. One of the things he loved about you was that you never pressured him into saying anything. You waited until he was comfortable, even if it took days.

The tips of your fingers gently rubbed and scratched at the top and back of his head. It was funny, really, how he was a rabbit but didn’t have an ounce of fur on him. No, his skin was an odd mix of some sort of squishy silicone, and despite the smooth shine, it had more of a matte-like finish. It definitely felt like an odd combination of things to touch on a person, but you’ve long since grown accustomed to his odd flesh, just like he undoubtedly had grown used to your own.

Occasionally, the tips of your fingers would scratch around the base of an ear and gently ghost the shell of said ear, and every time, Jax nearly shuddered. The repetitive motion, along with the silence, gave him the time needed to formulate his thoughts and figure out his feelings.

And of course, it was an unfamiliar feeling, a bitter one that made him want to lash out and do something more impulsive than normal. A feeling he couldn’t quite put a name to.

“Ragatha and Pomni are dating,” he sighed, turning his head slightly.

You hum, it’s old news to you by this point, but this wasn’t about that. “Oh yeah? I’m glad, those two are cute together.”

“Hmm..” The gentle scratches never stopped, and it had him wanting to return the act somehow. His arms crept up the bed to your waist, and he gently palmed the flesh. Not enough to tickle, but enough to give a gentle squeeze, an almost kneading-like gesture. “How long do you think it’ll last?”

“Jax, I’m not betting on their relationship…”

“And I’m not asking you to, it’s a serious question.”

His tone is worrying, it’s soft, and as much as you loathe to say it, frail. Part of you wants to outright ask him what’s wrong, but the other part knows that this might be his brain’s way of getting there.

“I don’t know how long it will last,” and it’s the truth, “but I hope they last a long, long time. Those girls deserve happiness, whether it’s being trapped in here or free in the real world.”

Free in the real world? That’s fun to laugh at, there’s no way they’d stay together if that happened. They’re different people out there compared to who they’ve been forced to become in here. Who knows where either of them lives, or how they’d even find each other if that happened? Would they even remember? If names couldn’t be remembered coming in, who’s to say something wouldn’t be forgotten when leaving?

“Yeah, and what about us?”

The question is so quiet you almost miss it. “What about us?”

“How long do you think we’ll be together?”

Oh. Oh.

Your heart aches at the question, at its implications. Jax has been vulnerable with you before, but never this vulnerable, this raw. Your hands find his cheeks, and he reluctantly lets you lift his face, but his eyes look anywhere but at you.

“Jax,” your voice is watery and he hates it, “honey.. I’d never leave you, stuck in this place or free out there. I’d find you.” Your hands start to shake, and he squeezes your sides before pulling back to straddle you, his own hands engulfing your smaller ones.

“It might not be possible,” he exhales, “there’s no proof of what’ll happen. We might not be where we were when we vanished, we might not rem—” His words shake as he speaks until his voice cracks, it fucking cracks.

“I don’t care, this is us in here. Sure, we forgot our names, but I know—I know that when we get out of here we’ll still have these memories.” It’s been a while since you arrived, and the memory is a bit foggy at times, but you remember where you were and what you were doing. It scares you to think one day you won’t remember, maybe that’s why he—oh, he’s been here a lot longer than you have.

Jax has been here long enough that there’s a high possibility that he doesn’t remember…

Your silence worries him enough to finally make eye contact, and he can see you putting the pieces together. He’s been here long enough that his memories of before get fuzzy. He can vaguely remember what he looked like, what his life was like. And if he thinks hard enough, he can remember roughly what his living situation was like. But at this rate, it feels like all of that will vanish in no time at all.

“I won’t leave you.” It’s soft, barely above a whisper, but Jax hears it and leans further into your touch. “I know that I’ll remember you, so even if you forget me, I’ll find you all over again and make you fall in love with me all over again.”

Oh, there’s that word again, the one that makes him feel things. The L word.

He’s crying and he hates it, hates feeling this vulnerable, hates the wet trickle on his cheeks before it vanishes into your hands. You don’t comment on it. You’re not doing much better after all, he can see your own unshed tears.

At this moment, you are stronger than him in his mind, and he’s silently grateful he’s not having to do this alone.

“What if you don’t like who I am out there?”

“I don’t care what you look like Jax, for fuck sake your a six-foot-two purple rabbit with a grin that could rival the Cheshire cat.” A wet chuckle falls out of him as he sinks down to lean closer to your face.

That’s sweet and all, but it’s not what he meant.

“I meant,” he sighs and stares directly at you, “what if you don’t like who I am?” Sure, you know him now, this rabbit-like avatar he’s stuck in, but he’s different out there—he knows it. His grin isn’t this animated, and his facial expressions are different. He’s even harder to get a read on and—

“What if you don’t like who I am either?”

“Wha—what?”

“You heard me, what if you don’t like who I am out there?”

Now, normally, he’d say he might agree with you, but there’s a gut feeling that he couldn’t find himself hating you. “I don’t think that’s possible…”

“Finally, something we’re in agreement on.” It’s a light-hearted tease, and the two of you share a silent chuckle before he buries his face into your neck, your arms slipping to wrap tightly around him.

“I can’t promise it’ll be easy, I doubt Caine has the power to make it easy enough that we just—” you snap your fingers,”—and poof we’re back out there with all our memories intact and go about our day.” As much as you’d wish that were the case, Caine only has so much power in this place. “But I won’t stop until I find you, even if our memories are gone, I’ll know in my heart that something is wrong. And if our memories are left as is, then I’ll find you even sooner.”

It’s mushy, the longer you talk, the more his stomach, heart, and brain are doing this weird thing, and a part of him wishes he had never even spoken up.

When he’d first heard the girls were dating, he laughed, and made a comment about enjoying it while it lasted because the moment they all get out—if they got out—that relationship is gonna go down the drain. Not that he really thought you guys were getting out, he was just being an asshole like always and stirring the pot.

It was all fun and games to him until Zooble spoke. They used you against him.

“That’s funny coming from you, who’s to say they won’t leave you the second we’re out? I don’t know what they see in you. If you’re this awful in here, I can’t imagine what you’re like out there.”

It was uncalled for, and truthfully, a lot harsher than they meant it. Zooble’s mouth worked faster than their brain did, and it came out with far too much venom. If Jax had that little faith in the girls’ relationship, what did that say about his own relationship? Zooble had always silently worried that you were just being strung along, Jax was the type of person—in their opinion—to toss someone away when they were no longer entertaining.

Jax hadn’t even replied to the comment. He wanted to, but there were too many things that wanted to leave his mouth at once, and his brain was still reeling from the statement. His usual quick-witted self was rendered silent, and that set a few of the others on edge.

“H-hey.. I’m sure Zooble didn’t mean it like that..” Ragatha nervously laughed, rubbing her hands together. “I’m sure the two of you will be together even out there. They really care about you after all.” She still had her doubts and questioned what exactly made you fall for him of all people, but even she could agree that what Zooble said was a bit much.

A response never came. His head, mouth, and chest were too chaotic and static-filled to respond. Instead, he turned away and left, kicking things left and right on the path to his room. Only to find it empty and slam the door shut before storming his way over to your room, which is how he ended up here, an emotionally charged bomb.

[izzyy-stuff]

Perv beomgyu who has a crush on a pretty girl he always sees on campus

anon you get me so bad i swear

perv!Beomgyu (obviously), masturbation (m), he cums in his pants as well

perv!Beomgyu who saw you on his first day of Uni and immediately knew he would like you. You were completely his type, his eyes following you every time he catches just as a glimpse of your figure

perv!Beomgyu who found out your schedule and asked to be moved from his econ class to one of your classes, just so he could have a reason to watch you for a whole lesson

perv!Beomgyu who fails the same class but doesn’t even care, especially not when it gives him a reason to ask you for help 

perv!Beomgyu who acts more clueless than he really is as you try to explain the material to him the best you can, even though you told him before that you’re not exactly excellent either and he should ask someone smarter

perv!Beomgyu who thinks about you late at night with his hand wrapped around his pretty cock, remembering how you leaned forward on his desk earlier that day, your boobs greeting his eyes as you explained whatever you could

perv!Beomgyu who shamelessly cums with your name on his lips, imagining it’s your tits he’s finishing on

perv!Beomgyu who greets you with a smile the next day as if nothing happened, asking you for help again

perv!Beomgyu who deep down knows he should feel ashamed and embarrassed, and yet can’t help getting hard when he sits alone with you after your lessons end, listening to your explanations but honestly not even paying attention to what you’re saying because all he can think about it how your lips would look wrapped around his cock

perv!Beomgyu who you know has been staring on your tits all day, probably watching your ass when you walked in front of him as well

perv!Beomgyu who thinks he is subtle with his glances and suspicious moves of his hand in his lap under the table, but really couldn’t be more obvious

perv!Beomgyu who manages to cum in his pants when you ‘accidentally’ brush your hand on his thigh, dangerously near his hard dick

perv!Beomgyu who practically begs you to go to his dorm and explain the material to him there, really just hoping he might be lucky enough and get to do more than just study stuff he couldn’t care less about 

perv!Beomgyuu who you play with the whole afternoon that night until finally getting him what he’s been waiting for since he first saw you :3

[frvnkcastles]

YOU SEE ME FOR WHAT I AM ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: Your friend Curtis sets you up with a friend of his, and you are pleasantly surprised by your blind date.

Warnings: Reader has PTSD (background not specified), drinking, implied female reader

Word count: 1.9k

Author’s note: I’m aliveeee!! Y’all, I feel so bad that I’ve been gone for so long but with Born Again just around the corner I was itching to finally write something again. School has me so burned out and whatever little time I have to myself I just spend binging GMM but I suspect I’m going to be overwhelmed with inspiration to write in no time. At the very least, my semester is over mid-April so by then I should be back for good! Anyway, it’s been a long couple of weeks so I really wanted something wholesome. I know I’ve got a bunch of requests waiting for me, but here’s a little blind date scenario <3 I’m so so indescribably excited to get my best guy back.

You had to admit you were walking into that unassuming dive bar you had walked past so many times but never entered with your mind already made up. When Curtis had insisted on setting you up with a guy he knew, you weren’t exactly leaping with joy, but he was far too persuasive for you to decline his offer. He was no longer just the guy in charge of the group meetings you attended to for some insight on trauma although you were not ex-military, he was also a friend of yours by now, and you had reluctantly admitted that you trusted him on this.

Still, it had been a shitty week and you just wanted to curl up in the corner of your couch with a book and your favorite drink. But you couldn’t deny that sometimes the best cure for your troubles was to be with other people; people who didn’t bring you down or cause prematurely gray hairs for you. That was exactly what Curtis had told you regarding his friend too — that he was the most introverted introvert he had ever met and could really use someone nice to talk to, someone like you.

Whether sparks of the romantic nature would fly between you, well, that was up to you two.

As you hesitantly walked into the bar, you spotted him immediately even though there were plenty of people around. Well, it was less knowing and more hoping, the sight of that tall hunk of a man taking your breath away so quickly, it was almost embarrassing. He was leaning against the bar counter and sipping a beer while scanning the room; for you, you hoped, but the tension in his broad shoulders suggested he was out of his element, too.

Swallowing, you gathered your strength and stepped over to the bar, and as soon as his stare found your shorter figure striding towards him, some kind of recognition awakened in the dark depths of his eyes. He didn’t move away from you, but he also didn’t say anything, so you took in a deep breath and made the first move, hoping he would invite you into his company — though you couldn’t deny the thought was intimidating, too.

”Are you Curt’s friend?” you asked, your voice coming out more soft and careful than you intended, and as he eyed you over in a way that he probably meant to be subtle, you assumed he could tell how nervous you were. You hadn’t been until you had seen him from

the doorway, and now, with his burly frame towering over you, you couldn’t help the quiver in your fingertips.

”Yes, ma’am. Frank”, he introduced himself, sticking out his large hand for you to shake. His old-fashioned mannerisms made your lips twitch upwards and you felt some of the anxiety dissipate as you gripped his thick fingers and shook them.

”No need to be so formal, Frank”, you insisted with a chuckle, telling him your own name before ordering your go-to from the bartender. He watched your every move keenly, dark eyes observing you curiously like you were something awfully unusual. His scrutinizing gaze invited warmth to your face but you didn’t comment on it, and he did not either, though his mind was running a million miles an hour.

Then again, it often did. But this was different. Just like you, he had been reluctant to agree to Curtis’ idea but he generally had a hard time saying no to the man, and tonight was no exception. So, begrudgingly, he had put on the only shirt he had without any blood on it, shelved his plans for a late night mission for a later time and strolled to the bar with the single goal of just indulging Curtis. Having a beer didn’t sound so bad, either. And then you showed up, and his throat started to close up and his palms sweat against the cool bottle. He was good at giving nothing away, for the most part anyway, but he couldn’t quite resist scanning your figure and instinctively licking his lips.

”How d’ya know Curtis?” Frank cleared his throat then, his eyes meeting yours while he tilted his head to the side as a display of his attention. You drew a much needed sip from your drink and debated on whether to give him the long, honest answer or the filtered version of it. Most guys didn’t want to hear the heavy shit right off the bat, but you were well-aware who the man in front of you was, and you supposed that heavy was hard to avoid with him. Maybe he’d even appreciate it, knowing he wasn’t the only one burdened by the past.

”Uh, I go to his group every now and then. I—I’ve never served, but um, PTSD haunts me like it does a lot of the people there so I like going there, being surrounded by people who understand”, you decided to choose the middle road by elaborating just enough to sate his curiosity.

His eyebrow lifted at your answer, and the look in his eyes shifted, like he saw you differently now — but not in a degrading, disappointed way. It was more like he recognized himself in what you were saying and it hooked him in, made him realize that you were more than just a pretty face Curtis had sent to woo him. Maybe he should have known his best friend wouldn’t waste his time.

”Guess Curt thought you and I got that in common”, he grunted, sipping his beer before shrugging, ”I mean I ain’t the biggest fan of goin’ to the group but I do it sometimes. Never bumped into you before, though.” You wondered if that was a good thing or not. He was easy on the eyes, that much was obvious to you, but there was a certain charm to him in general, and so, you were inclined to wish you could have met him sooner. Still, you couldn’t help but feel like hearing you at your most vulnerable might have scared him off, so you supposed you were glad to meet under these circumstances.

Clearing your throat, you gave him a careful nod. ”I understand that, it still makes me kinda anxious, too. But it’s helped a lot, I think. I mean, I’m still here, aren’t I?” you managed a chuckle, and he repeated the sound, briefly ducking his head before looking back up at you with an inkling of a smile on his lips. When the purple light above the bar hit him just right, you saw the fading cut on his bottom lip and the dark bruises on the corner of his eye, and you gulped so hard your throat bobbed, unable to resist wondering what he would feel like under your fingertips or, better yet, your own lips.

”I’m real glad you are, sweetheart”, he remarked, that deep, gravelly voice of his sending a thrill down your spine. You were starting to be into this, into him, way more and way faster than you had anticipated, but you tried to cool off and simply enjoy the excitement of his firm body so close to yours. You could practically feel the warmth of him, and even with the people and the music around you, it felt like you were in your own bubble with him. His eyes were laser-focused on you now, still darting to the front door whenever someone left or entered, but for the most part he had ceased his jittery observing of the room.

”So, guess you haven’t dated in a while, either?” you pointed out, trying to convey that you knew about his past without prying too much. ”Same here. I’ve had a few bad experiences that kinda deterred me from trying again but I guess Curtis thought I should leave my apartment more”, you continued casually, not wanting to get too hung up on his dating life beyond the necessary acknowledgment. It was up to him to share if he so wanted; you were starting to be comfortable enough with him to ramble on.

He looked at you with his eyebrows pulling together. ”Anyone I gotta take care of?” he asked, his voice so stern and laced with concern, even a sense of duty, that you couldn’t quite tell if he was being serious.

”Thanks for offering, but I’m good. It’s in the past”, you smiled at him, partly out of amusement but it was sincere, too. Even though it wasn’t all in the past, you didn’t feel the need to worry about it now — right here, right now, you were happy to be in Frank’s company, and with every minute that passed you by, you felt increasingly, and inexplicably, safe with him.

He chuckled, almost bashful while scratching the back of his neck. ”Yeah, uh, I’m the same, sweetheart. Don’t really see a lotta people ’cept Curtis and I’m takin’ this as a hint that he’s gettin’ sick of seein’ my ugly mug”, he shrugged, and immediately, you made a sound of protest.

”Don’t try that with me, Frank, ’cause you know I’m gonna tell you that you look good. If you haven’t dated, it’s definitely not because you don’t have women lining up”, you argued playfully, waggling your finger at him. He gave you a short laugh, but the amusement on his face melted into something almost hungry as he gave you a quick once-over.

”Nah, darlin’, outta the two of us, you’re the stunner. Got me all flustered and shit, y’know?” he insisted, hiding his mischievous smile by drawing a long sip from his beer. You fidgeted shyly, clearly bashful and unable to say anything witty back, but before you could feel uncomfortable under his curious gaze, he continued.

”But, uh, yeah, I ain’t been datin’ all that much ’cause I don’t exactly feel ready for it. I dunno what that feels like, really. Maybe I’ll never feel ready, but I just gotta take that leap”, he explained, sucking in a breath as he looked into your eyes, ”I don’t mind this, though. I’m startin’ to be real happy I showed up.”

Smiling at him, you nodded. ”Me too. It’s been a… long, long week and I didn’t think I was in the mood for meeting someone new but this was the right decision, I think”, you agreed with him, twirling the straw in your drink, feeling your heart race in your chest.

He considered his options for a minute, took a look around the bar and then finally turned to you with a quizzical look. ”Ya wanna get a booth, sweetheart? Sit down, have some privacy? You can tell me all about that long week, huh?” he proposed, and immediately, your stomach flooded with butterflies. His attentiveness, his rough voice, his fingertip grazing the back of your hand… they all worked together to make your head spin and you didn’t know if you would even be physically capable of forming the word ’no.’

But that was the last thing you wanted to say to him.

”I’d love that, Frank. I’m not in any rush to leave”, you affirmed, and nodding in approval, he flagged the bartender down for another round of drinks.

Once he was armed with a second beer and your cocktail was refilled, he nodded towards an empty booth in the corner. He waited for you to walk ahead, and you felt your body quiver with excitement when his tall, broad form followed behind you like a guard dog, working as a forcefield against anyone even giving you a look.

As you sat down across from him, he flashed a grin and you almost swooned.

”And you can lemme know about those assholes you been datin’ and we’ll see what I can do, yeah?”

[tobeafangirl]

a warm welcome

Words: 6,819 Rating: M (language, underage drinking, teasing, slight exhibitionism, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, harry is a bit of a sub oops) Type: Oneshot (Harry Styles x Reader) A/N: This is actually an old fic I reworked, might be posting a few of those while I am writing my currents. Gotta keep my lovelies fed.

Secondary school was complicated and parties were stupid. You had only lived in London for around a month now and when it came to making friends or even being noticed, you failed. So far you have only acquired one friend, Maddy, a girl who is currently not being such a good friend right now since she was planning to drag you along to a party. But not just any party, oh no.

“It’s Jessica Knox.” You said as you smoothed down the small skirt that could be an inch or two longer. 

“She’s my friend, and a lot less intimidating than you think.” Maddy reassured me for maybe the tenth time today, you just couldn’t shake the very familiar feeling of misplacement – like you didn’t belong. “Listen, (Y/N), I was the new girl once, I was awkward, weird, and all around I felt like a walking embarrassment. But these people took me in as one of their own --- I really think you are going to fit in perfectly.” Maddy’s words were inspiring, always were. She knew how to say the right things at the right time. So, with a tug of your skirt for the last time, you announced that you were ready for whatever the night had in store.

Jessica’s house was more than impressive, delicate on the outside, huge on the inside. You wondered what it was like to see the house empty, what it would be like to roam the halls as a guest, maybe a friend. The music was loud, booming from an unknown source as various bodies swayed to the beat. It smelled strongly of sweat and faintly of cigarettes, a mix that one could get lost in, you nearly found yourself in the mystical world until Maddy tugged at your arm pulling you towards a small group of people.

Stacy was the first person to greet you. You had seen her around the halls and never had spoken, she was the wild card of the group, always too bold, loud, and yet caring in a way that proved right in her own mind. “Nice to meet you, (Y/N)!” 

Next to be introduced was the party thrower herself, Jessica, looking as stunning as the sunshine. There was something about the way she carried herself, so elegant, wise, but still never put you in a position where you felt the lesser. “I really like your outfit, it has a lot more taste than some of these girls here.” She points slyly in the direction of a girl, sloppily grinding on a guy while wearing a near-to-nothing leopard print dress – as if that was still in style. Jessica rolled her eyes, it made you laugh. You were starting to think that maybe you would get along with these people after all.

Then there was Niall, the lover boy. Him and Maddy had been going strong for a while now, and honestly, you couldn’t blame her. Something about those baby blues and Irish accent really intrigued you, there was a story behind that boy and you wanted to figure it out. Although you two just met, the swift haired boy pulled you into a hug and welcomed you with literal open arms. “(Y/N)! Maddy has been telling me a lot about you! Welcome to London!” You couldn’t believe that these people were being so nice, it almost felt unreal.

The last was a boy standing with a puzzled look on his face. “This is Harry.” Maddy introduced him. His name clung in your mind in a way that was unnecessary but you tried to shake that away. He looked nervous for some reason, but it was in a cute way. Darting eyes, small pink muscles coming out to wet his lips. Nervous looked well on him. He must have realized because sooner than later a smile rose upon his face, all his features lighting up as the corners of his lips lifted. His eyes sparkled, flickering of all these colors. You were almost mesmerized, so much so that you almost didn’t hear him speak. “I think we have a class together, forensics?” His eyebrows raised, if this boy was in one of your classes, how come you have never noticed? With eyes like his, you were sure to be able to spot him in a crowd. “Yeah.” You breathed out, were you holding your breath? How embarrassing. “Staccato, real pain huh?” You tried to redeem yourself, it worked for the most part, making the dark chestnut haired boy laugh. 

“Now that we are all acquainted, let’s dance, shall we?” Maddy squealed as she took your hand, leading you out on the dance floor with Stacy and Jessica in tow. You danced, you swayed, all four of you even bounded while out on the dance floor. To say the night was going great would be an understatement. However, the night was young and those three beautiful girls found a guy to dance the night away with while you drifted away into the crowd. The one sad thing about coming to a party without a guy is being without a guy. And if you add the nerves and anxiety to the table, meeting one didn’t seem like a possibility for you. Earlier that night being proof, the way things went down with Harry was embarrassing enough.

You found myself easing your way to the outside world, the night air drawing you out like some kind of special mating call. It was nice, the light thumping of the music mixing with the calm of the night. Like a scene from a movie, you felt like a star. “You too?” You heard from beneath you, causing you to jump back a bit, startled. Laying on the grass was a Harry, a slightly drunk, smiling, adorable looking Harry. “Yeah, it was getting a bit much in there.” You commented. His hand sprawled out beside him, patting on the grass for you to take a seat. You took a moment to admire his hands, they were huge and supporting these veins that made you bite your lip in awe. Your eyes followed a few of them up until they disappeared in the flannel, making you only wonder what was underneath. You sat, finally, and his goofy smile grew wider. 

“Why here? Why London?” He asked lazily and you couldn’t fight the dancing smile on your face. “At first I thought it was for a fresh start, to get away from the dreaded town I came from but it turns out it was for a guy.” You let out a defeating sigh, as Harry brought himself up onto his elbows. He looked slightly hurt, a little sad. “Y-you came here for a guy?” he asked, looking up at you through lashes that looked beautiful and faux. “No, no. My mother did. I was just a tagalong.” You told him and you could swear that you saw relief on his face. 

“So, no boyfriend?” Was Harry’s next question. It wouldn’t have caught you off guard if his eyes weren’t filled with hope, it was enough to make your stomach feel like a home for butterflies. “No.” You answered shyly, ducking your head down as you did. You didn’t want him to see you blush. “Good.” You didn’t have to look to know he had moved. His voice was extremely close and it dared you to look up, but you didn’t have to, fingers were placed under your chin lifting your head. Bright eyes were met with dark ones and you knew what was about to happen.

Your heart was pounding, beating so fast that you were afraid he could hear it. He was so close that you could smell the warm whiskey on his breath, it was intoxicating your mind and you soon found your eyes closing on their own, beckoning for the small gap to be closed. And it was. Cold soft parted lips pressed against warm ones and it was like two opposite worlds colliding in the best possible ways. 

It was as if time was standing still. You didn’t know this boy, not a single thing about him, and yet you felt like you’ve known him forever. It took one small movement from you, a slight touch to the cheek and it was like it flipped a switch, as if he was waiting for approval before letting go. His fingers laced in your hair, pulling you into him daringly close. A shiver going down your spine as you felt his tongue slide against your bottom lip. You took no time in accepting the offer, letting your tongue slip past his lips. He let out a soft hum at the sensation and you couldn’t help but smile into the kiss. 

“Holy shit.” Your head snapped to the side at the words, standing there was Niall and Maddy looking down at you two with probably the biggest grins you’ve ever seen in your life. Harry didn’t seem to mind the loss of your lips however, he found his way down to your neck, causing you to stifle a moan as the couple watched with raised eyebrows and sly smiles.

“Harry.” You whispered trying to get his attention, and he hummed in approval, his teeth sinking into your skin making your eyes flutter, your nails digging into his shoulder. “You like that?” He murmured onto your skin and you could feel yourself turn bright red. “Yeah, (Y/N), do you like that?” Niall asked as Maddy giggled.

Harry's head snapped up at the voice, his face and neck became blotchy with bright red, looking at you with apologizing eyes. 

“We should probably get going.” Maddy said, gripping your hand and helping you up as you situated yourself. “Yeah, it is kind of late.” You replied with a nod, putting it off as if you were tired even though you doubted sleep was in your schedule tonight. Maddy gave Niall a knowing look before dragging you through the thinning out dance floor.

“I think the real question is did you like that?” You heard Niall’s laugh as you walked away followed by a stumbling Harry. “Shut up! You know, this is why I can never get a girl because of you and your – face.” More laughter came from Niall, “How about just getting your drunk ass in the jeep?” And with a final defeat, “Okay.” that was all you could hear of the conversation before you were bombarded by questions from Maddy.

“What just happened?” Was the first.

“Was he a good kisser? Because I’ve always been curious.” Was the second, that one made your brows fly up a bit too high.

“Dish the details, girl!” The only answer you could give her was the big plastered smile across your face.

Maybe London was going to treat you well after all. 

***

It had been three days since your very eventful night at Jessica’s party and you were still dealing with the endless teasing and questions. However, the person you’d rather be hearing from somehow had disappeared from the face of the earth. You hadn’t seen Harry at all, which was odd since him and Niall were usually inseparable. You wanted to talk to him, to possibly try and salvage something between you two, even if it was just friendship.

You don’t know what came over you that night, but there was no regret on your part. His lips have been dancing in your mind for the past few nights, waking you up in a sweat just before things got heated between the two of you. Part of you deemed yourself crazy for thinking like that about someone who was technically a stranger, but another part of you was yearning to experience your dreams in person.

The bell rang and it caused you to grip onto your book a little tighter. It was time for your forensic class, the one class you had with Harry. This was the make or break moment. He was either going to speak to you or act like you were nonexistent and you debated internally on which one you truly wanted. “Here goes nothing.” You whispered to yourself, holding your head up high as you turned the corner entering your classroom.

So maybe you slightly over reacted, in fact, he was not even in class yet. You let a sigh out and took a seat, watching as the crowd grew as the class filled. There was still no sign of Harry, and you could feel your stomach churn at that. Was he avoiding class because of me? You thought to yourself as you felt your body start to seep into your seat even more than usual.

“Okay class, this will be a partnering project for today. So, without further ado, find yourself someone and get seated – We don’t have all day!” Within seconds’ chairs were filled and partners were set, you didn’t know many people so it was not as if you stood out as a potential partner for anyone. It looked as if to be another day where you would be paired up with the teacher, again. 

You placed your head in your hands, sighing for the seventh time. The guy you liked was ignoring you, no one ever took the time to get to know you, and now you had to partner with some mid-aged man who tried too hard to ‘keep up with the times’. You could have possibly catapulted yourself across the room until you felt the presence of someone sitting down beside you. Removing your hands, your eyes quickly adjusted to a familiar goofy smile sitting beside you. Harry.

It was silent, awkward. You didn’t even get to croak out the soft ‘Hi’ hanging in your throat before Mr. Staccato started to speak, giving out the instructions of what the project had in store. You watched as Harry took notes while acting mysteriously normal. It was practically eating you alive. You needed to talk to him, to know what he was thinking and what the other night meant to him.

You took a deep breath, waiting for the teacher to stop dragging on before you spoke. “I know things got a bit crazy the other night, and I’m sorry – not that I regret anything, I just don’t want things to be awkward between us. We are going to see each other – obviously, and I don’t want—“ Your rambling was embarrassing, you knew that. You knew you were talking too much and that you were probably digging yourself the biggest hole but what you didn’t expect was the reaction you got. 

You didn’t expect Harry to have a small smirk placed upon his face as he looked down at his book so innocently, didn’t expect his hand to be caressing and rubbing soft circles on the warm flesh of your thigh. Didn’t expect to be thanking all the gods that you decided to wear that daring skirt that starred at you in your closet. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip, eyes widening at the boy beside you.

“Harry!” You hissed at him, which he responded to with a hum. His hand was inching up at an agonizing slow pace, causing a warm sensation to stir between your legs, you could feel yourself getting wet at the idea of what was going on and to say it was driving you insane would be an understatement. “Think you can answer the last two questions for me?” Harry whispered in your ear and when did he get so damn close?

His hand was still now, no longer moving on your skin but so close to your core that you could feel the heat from his body and it made you want to buck your hips in anticipation.  “Y-Yeah.” You nodded your head slowly. You knew you were blushing, you could feel it, and it felt like the entire class was staring at you although that was nowhere near the case.

Speaking of cases, you had to answer the last two questions on a case study that you had not been paying attention to at all. “Consulting pictures A-D what can you tell us about the crime scene?” You gasped, but not because the question caught you off guard but because of Harry fingers that were ghosting over your underwear, teasing you in all of the oh-so-right ways. 

“Uh –“ Your eyes flickered over the pictures, trying to come up with an answer. Your mind was running a mile a minute and as you glanced at Harry with the most pleading eyes, he did fuck all but smirk in response, causing you to clench your fists as you made a mental note to get back at him for this.

It was then when he applied pressure, his fingers skillfully running over your slit in the most exciting of ways. As if on cue, the bell rang as you let out a moan, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. “Okay class, like I said, we do not have all day. However, I do expect this to be done and completed by – You guessed it, Friday!” Mr. Staccato’s voice snapped you back to reality. Well that and the loss of Harry's intimate touch.

“You really need to start paying attention in class. We can finish this later. My place? Seven?” Although it came out as a question, he didn’t mean it as one. It was more of a demand and somehow you were okay with that. You didn’t respond though, you didn’t have to, the dumbfounded look on your face being well enough of an answer. Harry then stood, “Maybe after that, we can finish the project.” His voice was low, eyes were playful as he turned on his heels exiting the room before you could speak.

Did that really just happen? It took you a minute to compose yourself. “Shower. I need a cold shower.” You breathed, as you grabbed your things quickly walking your way to your next class. You couldn’t get what just happened out of your head, or even better what was going to happen later. Your body was still tingling from his touch before, you only wondered what else his fingers could do. 

The time seemed to pass eerily slow as you jingled your keys in your hand. You had been sitting in your car for about ten minutes awaiting the perfect time to leave. Worst part was, Harry's house wasn’t too far from yours, so you knew your drive would be short, the clock struck 6:45 pm and you cranked your car, trying your best to ready yourself for whatever was about to happen. 

When you arrived, you walked slowly up the steps, you could feel your palms begin to get clammy and by the looks of the lack of cars out front, you knew he had to be the only one home. Nervous was an understatement at this point. You knocked, the door almost instantly opening as Harry appeared. He had changed from earlier, plain gray shirt and sweatpants now covered his body and you couldn’t stop yours eyes from raking over him.

He stepped aside, allowing you in. No words had been spoken yet and it made you slightly frown. He glanced back at you, giving you the signal to follow him as you two made it up to his room. It was dimly lit, and you wondered if he had planned that out. “It’s crazy, how much you’ve been going through my mind.” He closed the door behind you two, you could feel his hot breath on your neck, sending chills down your spine as strong hands gripped your waist. “You’ve put a spell on me.” He whispered, “But I like it.” He nipped at your ear with the last word and you couldn’t take it anymore.

You turned so you were facing him, everything happening at a pace that probably seemed much faster than it really was. You kissed him desperately as his back hit the door behind him and he chuckled in the kiss. You couldn’t help yourself, all the teasing and games were driving you crazy. He had said you put a spell on him but really, he had been the one to cast the spell.

It didn’t take him long to catch up however, tongue tracing your bottom lip as you granted him entrance. He couldn’t keep his hands still, they were in your hair, waist, sliding up the back of your shirt. It was like he couldn’t get enough of you and there were no complaints. “Bed.” You said against his lips, his feet moving instantly, making sure not to break the intimate contact between you two.

Although you hated to part from his lips, the dancing images of earlier that day came flooding back to your head and you knew you had to get him back for it. Staring at him with bashful eyes you slipped your shirt over your head causing Harry to suck in a breath at the sight. You smirked, you liked that you had that power over him. Next, you stripped your pants away and you could feel his eyes boring into you, it almost made you blush. You pushed him down onto the bed and straddled him. “No fair.” You whispered as you tugged at the hem of his shirt, he got the message and took his shirt off in a hurry. He kept reaching for you, trying to kiss you, but you slapped his hands away, you were in control now.

“Please.” His voice was below a whisper and the way he sounded so shattered made you want to give in and let him do whatever he wanted to you, but you had to stay strong. “Tell me what you want.” You beckoned, leaving a hot trail of kisses down his neck. You made sure to pay attention to his sweet spot, sucking a soft red mark onto the skin. Your lips kept moving downward, connecting with his collarbone, you felt his breath hitch in his throat. His body vibrating beneath you was absolutely beautiful.

You kissed your way down his chest, taking your time and paying attention to every muscle, every inch. His body was art and you were admiring it. The whimpers that were releasing from his mouth was also a very nice feature. “You.” He breathed, “I want you.” And you debated on actually giving him that. You reached his sweatpants, hands quickly to slide under them, pushing the thick fabric down to his knees. 

Kissing along the top of his briefs, the moan that left his lips surprised you. You had been with a few guys before, but you had never had this effect on them. You smirked, eyeing his bulge before you kissed it gently. Throwing his head back against the pillows, he let out another moan. You palmed him slowly, sweet sounds escaping him. You were starting to realize this was hurting you more than it was hurting him. You had to stick to the plan.

You had to get out of there.

Stopping abruptly, you stood up. You were silent as you started to pull on your clothes. “Wh—What are you doing?” His voice was soft but you didn’t answer, just looked at him. He was sitting up and yet still sprawled out. His eyes were glazed over and he looked lost in his own world. You took mental pictures for later. “I actually have to go.” You said calmly, tugging your shirt down. “You can’t just – We were – You can’t leave me like this!” He directed your attention to the throbbing state you left him in. “So, I can’t tease you like you tease me?” You raised an eyebrow.

He connected the dots then, his eyes narrowing at you. “You’re going to pay for this.” And there was that smirk, “I’m counting on it.” You replied, taking no time to rush your way out of his bedroom door. Your body was beating you up for leaving, missing his touch already, but this was all part of a bigger plan – a game if you will, and there was no way you’d be losing. 

***

Vibration seeped through your body. It was from the continuous stomping of the people around you. It was game night and you were here to cheer on your school, it also helped there was a curly haired boy who looked pretty damn good in the light burgundy jersey. “Now it’s time to get out there and kick some ass!” Coach yelled after one of his huge pep talks, causing the boys to get riled up and ready for a good game. “Not you Horan, sit down. No one wants you out there.” You couldn’t help but smile, Harry giving you a small wave before he went to take his position on the field, you were so lost inside your own mind, swimming with the things you’d like to do to the boy, you almost didn’t hear Maddy talking to you.

“He likes you. I think it’s cute.” You laughed softly at her words, if she only knew. The last few weeks between you and Harry had been something else. It was filled with secret looks that only you two understood, followed by under the table hand jobs and hickies that were becoming too hard to cover up after 10 minute breaks between classes. The thoughts caused a smirk to appear on your face, although things had been pretty heated it hadn’t passed the threshold of no return yet. Oh no, you were saving that for tonight. 

You knew it would be perfect, the boy would be slightly worn from all the activity. He would have aches and small pains and you’d help him relax, maybe a little too much at first and he’d be somewhat confused, but he would get it. He always got it eventually, and when he did, it was like a whirlwind of excitement. His eyes lighting up, his hands becoming grabby in all the right areas. You had to squeeze your thighs tight together at the thought, pushing back your urges until later. 

Roaring applause filled your ears, snapping you back to the real world. You figured the team had scored as you watched Harry jump up into the air, his shirt lifting in a way that should be casual, but it was so much more to you. As it probably was to half the crowd. Apparently, Harry believed that no one in this school found him attractive, but you knew he was dead wrong. Would you tell him that? No way in hell. The thought of him being with someone else shot a pang to your heart.

You must admit, for something that was only supposed to be fun, you were getting a little more attached than you previously thought you would. Harry had become almost everything. He was the guy you called when you needed help with homework, even though you only ended up making out. He was the one who drove you around because you didn’t want to go home and deal with your mum. He was the one who thought about you and brought you things to brighten your day, it was like dating without the official tagline, it was something different.

The game ended with surprising results. Forty-seven to nineteen, we won. It’s not like they were horrible at the game, Maddy had said they always seemed to win and come out on top, but the difference was quite unbelievable, especially for the first game of the season, and it caused for a celebration. Everyone found themselves back at Jessica’s house as always, bodies swaying again to the mind-numbing music. This time however, it was different. You weren’t a scared new comer who didn’t know anyone, you weren’t dancing and getting to know people all at once. It was quite nice to fit in.

Your back was pressed firmly to the wall behind you, eyes drifting over Harry and he took a sip of his beer lazily. It was cute, watching sleep seep into him as he tried his hardest to celebrate with his friends. His face brightened when he saw you, excusing himself from his fellow teammates as he brought himself over to you. The smile on his face was cozy, it made you laugh. “What? Do I have beer on me?” Harry instantly started to feel himself, pressing his shirt to reveal the muscles underneath. You had to bite down on your bottom lip, that feeling from earlier coming back between your legs. “No, just admiring.” 

Lifting your hand, you raked your fingers through his slightly messy and tangled hair, causing his eyebrow to arch. You two were touchy in public, but never to this extent. It always seemed friendly, or they tried to make it look that way at least, but right now you didn’t care who looked or stared. You were going to look at him with glazed eyes, and he was going to sigh at your touch, and the people around you were slowly disappearing. A smirk appeared on his face, and he leaned down, lips contacting the shell of your ear. “Are you trying to start something?” His voice was hot and it sent shivers down your spine. “I just want to take care of you.”

Those words were all it took, Harry took your hand and led you upstairs, his tired eyes showing some gleam of light. You found yourselves in the guest bedroom, locking yourself in as the music turned into a dull thump. “Bed.” You said before he could speak, you heard a small chuckle come from him as he sat at the edge of the bed. You could feel his eyes on you, and they dared you to turn around. “Shirt off.” You demanded again, you didn’t have to look at him to know his eyebrows were lifting, probably an all too happy smile on his face. You heard the rustle of clothing, first the sound of a loose-fitting flannel hitting the floor, followed by a slight heavier thud of a shirt. You grinned, finally turning around. Eyes gliding over skin, landing on a pair of perfect pink lips that were curved slightly. 

You walked around him slowly, his neck craning to follow your every move. You crawled on the bed behind him, balancing yourself on your knees as you pressed your chest against his back. “You seem tense.” You cooed, fingers grasping his shoulders, working the pad of your fingertips into the tender muscle. Harry closed his eyes, head falling forward as a groan fell from his lips. You giggled, leaning down to press kisses along his neck and your fingers continued to work magic on his shoulders.

The sight beneath you was absolutely breathtaking. There was Harry, mouth agape as his head pressed back into your chest. Soft noises would escape him from time to time and you constantly thought about how lucky you were that it was you that was in this room with him. His eyes fluttered as you pressed a small kiss to his temple, something innocent enough, but he knew your intentions. The smirk on his face was apparent. You kissed him again, but this time softly on his lips. It causes the fluttering to stop and eyes to open. Your hands began to move, to explore the body in front of you, nails across back, light touches on chest, anything you could do to tease and drive him restlessly up a wall. 

“(Y/N)” Your name left as a moan from his lips, and that was all that you needed. You were surprised that you had held on for this long, your stomach doing flips as your lips connect to his. The position was awkward but the kiss was sweet. Sending waves down your body as you move your way around him, straddling his lap as you pressed your clothed chest against his bare hand. “Not fair.” He whispered, tugging your shirt at the bottom, indicating he wanted it off and as soon as possible. A call back, one that made her smile. You let him slip your shirt over your head, cold hands pressing against soft warm flesh. It was enough to make you suck in a breath. You could feel him hardening beneath you, and it caused your hips to move involuntarily, bucking down and colliding with his. You moan in unison, the fact that he felt this good against you and you were still clothed was a scary fact.

“Tonight. I want to tonight.” Your voice was low, you almost didn’t recognize it and he gave you a look of question. He probably thought this was still a game, probably thought you’d get so eerily close before pulling away. Maybe it was the dark intensity in your eyes, but he realized this was no longer some play thing, that you really meant what you said and his fingers gripped your hips at that, dragging your hips against his in a sweet way. 

His lips were on the move at that point, planting kisses along your jawline and down to the crook of your neck. He made sure to leave his mark this time, wanting everyone to know he finally got what he was after, that he finally got you. He left wet hot kisses down the valley of your breast, his fingers fumbling behind you, his eagerness causing a small giggle to escape you. You reach behind you, stop his frantic hands and unclasping your bra for him, allowing him to do the rest of the work. 

A smirk was placed on your face as you watched his eyes widen and he slid the straps down your shoulders. It was not your first time bare in front of Harry and yet he looked at you as if it was, it caused you to feel a bit self-conscious, having a nervous feeling coming over you as the instinct to cover yourself came to mind. He however noticed your hesitation and took a hold of your hand before you could do anything. “Beautiful.” His words were soft, “I don’t say it often, but you, (Y/N), are absolutely beautiful.” 

Maybe it was those words that set a fire inside of you that you had never felt before, or maybe it was Harry soft lips caressing you in places that made your eyes roll into the back of your head. You don’t know how it happened, but within seconds you were flipped, back pressed into the mattress. You let out a small whimper at the loss of his lips, the warmth of him being away from you causing pain. He was taking you in, the sight of you, as his fingers worked the button of your jeans and you cursed yourself for not wearing a skirt like Jessica has suggested, but you couldn’t do it anymore, couldn’t take the slow sweet pace Harry was trying to set up, you reached, crashing his lips back down to yours in almost a bruising manner, this time he was the one who was whimpering. 

Finally, fabric was removed as Harry got the hint, nothing but thin material separated you two from what you really wanted and it caused a delicious sigh to leave you as Harry lips began to trail, leaving hot wet kisses down your stomach to the place you needed him the most.

Although it was not as slow as it seemed, it felt like it took forever for him to remove your final piece of clothing, the only thing that was keeping you from what you wanted. His lips felt soft and warm as he kissed up your thighs, you could feel your muscles tense at how close he was, your fingers wrapped in the sheets with anticipation, you could feel your breath start to quicken. The sharp noise that left your mouth when his lips finally came in contact with your folds was almost inhuman and you could just feel the smirk placed upon his lips as his tongue poked out, licking a long swipe up to your clit, the moans escaping you almost uncontrollable. 

“Fuck baby, you taste so good.” Your hands were now tangled in his curly locks, softly pulling and tugging as you withered on the bed, the expert workings of his tongue causing you to see white. He hummed against you, bringing one of his hands to smooth down your stomach as he brought the other to your entrance. Without warning he pushed two fingers inside of you, “Fuck, Harry!” What left your mouth was somewhat between a whimper and a moan, you could feel the knot in your stomach begin to tighten, so close to breaking at any moment, coming close to your orgasm at an alarming rate. “That’s it baby, cum for me.” His voice was low, husky, it sent chills up your spine as you cried out, reaching the edge and tipping off into a world of pure bliss and pleasure.

Harry chuckled as he kissed his way up your body, “Shut up.” You said between soft pants, his lips finding their way to your neck. You could feel him, thick and hard on your thigh, drawing a breath from you as you realized what was about to come. You felt like you had waited your whole life for this moment, to actually be this close to him, to feel him in ways that most wished but hadn’t. He didn’t ask questions, but he didn’t have to. You both knew this is what you wanted, that this was something that had kept the two of you up for the past few weeks. You both knew that this was right.

He lifts your legs, placing them around his waist as he lined himself up with you. His eyes were dark as he looked down at you with admiration, taking in the sight before him. With ease, he slid himself inside of you, causing the two of you to let a drawn moan out in unison. You bit your lip at the size of him, you knew he was very gifted in that area, but to actually feel him inside of you was another story. It took a lot for him not to be frantic, you could tell he was holding back as much as possible, wanting this to last longer than the both of you feared it would. His hips moved slowly, trying to find a perfect pace for you two. It was all grunts and moans, and you were pretty sure he had marks down his back by now. “Faster, Harry.” You appreciate him wanting to make things last but with each thrust it sends an agonizing feel of need through your body. He obliged, not even batting an eyelash as his hips started to quicken, with each trust you could feel him getting deeper and deeper, him getting lost in pure lust.

The noises alone were purely erotic, skin against skin, a competition of who could moan the loudest. His teeth were digging into your shoulder, trying to muffle his sounds while your lips pressed against his neck, possibly deafening him with the sound exiting you. The headboard was hitting the wall behind it, and if it weren’t from the loud music that was seeping through the walls, you were sure every person down stairs could hear what was happening. 

“Fuck, (Y/N).” His thrust started to get more frantic, his release nearing him as you could feel your walls begin to tighten around him, your second orgasm coming down on you fast and hard. You gave your final moan, his name leaving your lips as you pulled him as close to you as possible. It was like the world around you stopped, you couldn’t see anything but stars, your heart was beating in your ears. It was the most amazing feeling to ever wash over you. He never slowed, using this new tightness to find his own release as he let out a small cry, hips jerking at random times, his body laying breathlessly on top of you. “Bloody hell, baby.” He breathed, his body rolling off of yours. 

The smile on your face couldn’t be broken as you laughed softly. Lazy eyes looked over at you, one eyebrow lifting. “Shut up.” He mumbled, face flushed from the previous activities. You were amazed that you found him so beautiful, even with small beads of sweat gathering on his forehead, you couldn’t help but find yourself so far in with the boy lying beside you. “So,” You pressed, moving your body closer to him as you placed a hand on his chest. “Round two?” You gave him a small smirk as he chuckled, his fingers lazily tangling in your hair as he sighed. “You’re going to be the death of me.” 

[egg-but-with-style]

Butcher ghost 2, electric boogalo

Tw: definitely ooc

1 2 3

You were panicking at the moment, standing outside his shops door. Holding day old chicken spadini in your hands. You threw in some fettuccine alfredo that you had made too.

You had texted him yesterday night, after you left your parents house, waiting until you got home to decide if you wanted to talk to him or not. Of course you did, he was handsome, or atleast his eyes looked handsome. Or maybe you just had a thing for guys with huge arms and a small penchant for violence.

When you had texted him, he seemed so dry. Only a couple word responses, then he told you to meet him inside his shop, said Tuesdays were always slow. In the back of your head, there was a little common sense. 'What if he's actually a serial killer? How do you know he isn't a creep?' which were questions you should've probably taken more seriously, but the knife and taser in your purse gave you reassurance.

You finally, having some courage, pulled open the door and went in. He seemed alot less focused today, like he was waiting for something. You watched his head snap up once the door closed, it letting out a slight creak.

He was surprised when you actually texted him, he was speechless when you agreed to come back to the shop, and now that it was all real, you standing in front of the counter, it made his jaw hit the floor.

He wasn't good at romance, or first impressions, or flirting. But he liked what he saw, he liked what he heard. He also might've stalked your socials after you told him your name over text. Only to check if you had a partner, definitely only that.

You saw him looked a little surprised, but the mask definitely blocked most of the facial expressions you would've seen, which he was thankful for. You spoke up, "Hi, Simon. I um.. bought the chicken..oh and I put some pasta in there too, figured chicken wasn't a balanced meal on its own and all that." You walked over to the counter and set down the Tupperware container. He spoke, his voice a little less rough today for some reason. "Mum used to tell me I couldn't just eat meat, now I run a butcher shop"

You let out a giggle. Your round cheeks becoming almost circles as you smiled. He felt his face heating up behind his mask, which was already so humid. He swore if he looked in a mirror now, he'd see his pupils being about the size of a saucer. He cleared his throat, trying not to feel embarrassed.

"It..it looks good though."

He hadn't eaten for the last 5 hours just because he wanted to be able to eat whatever you gave him. (Including dessert, if you catch my drift) Which you seemed to give him an ample portion, he was a big guy after all.

You thought he seemed a tiny bit nervous. Was it..you that was making him nervous? You shook off the idea, maybe he was just a little jumpy specifically on Tuesdays.

"Do..do you want to try some? I heated it up before I drove here. Even though you probably have a microwave.."

You realized maybe it was kind of a stupid idea to heat it up for him, but you had been so worried he might not have liked it. So you just wanted him to eat it as soon as possible. Not wanting to deal with the fear.

"No, no that's fine. I'd have to run all the way upstairs to my flat to heat it up anyway."

You watched him slowly open the container and pull up his mask just slightly to get the smell in. It seemed like his shoulders physically relaxed once he got a good sniff in. It was kinda cute.

"Do..do you want me to look away or?"

You weren't sure if the mask was just for protection, or if he just didn't like people seeing his face. He looked at you and seemed a little stunned that you asked. He slowly shook his head. "It's alright."

He hoped you wouldn't judge him because of his face, of all the scars, from acne and otherwise, not to mention the nose that had clearly been broken before, but when he pulled down the mask fully, you swore you were seeing something carved from marble.

His nose was crooked, a few scars lining the philtrum and the bridge. Then to his lips, the top one have a scar through the left side and slightly cleft because of it. His jaw and chin were just as impressive, being a bit soft, but still so pretty.

"You're beautiful.." you quickly covered your mouth, looking embarrassed for even saying that. "I..I'm so sorry! I didn't, I wasn't thinking.." Oh you were thinking, you were just thinking about how handsome he was.

That's when you saw his face turn a bit red. "Its..it's no problem. Don't worry about it" He looked away for a second, coughing and then looking back to you. Trying to play off the blush finding it's way to his ears.

He picked up a fork he brought down here specifically for the chicken you were bringing him. He felt kind of like a dork, but all that was forgotten when he took a bite of the chicken. He even let out a little groan. The seasoning, the flavor from the overnight marination in the sauces. He felt like he was in heaven, he looked like he was too.

Once he chewed and swallowed, he spoke up. "This is really fucking good." He really wanted to scarf it down right in front of you, but he already felt embarrassed and vulnerable enough, so he closed the container, to his own dismay. "I'll eat the rest of it once I close down shop. I..I wanted to ask you something"

You had been staring in awe at his reaction to your cooking, snapping out of it once he addressed you directly. You had a feeling what he was gonna ask, you just hoped you were right. "What did you wanna ask me?"

He blurted it out, hoping if he said it fast enough you'd just say yes. "Do you wanna go on a date with me?" Was it a little werid to ask the lady he just met yesterday out on a date? Yes. Yes it was. But he could care less. He knew he couldn't charm you the normal way, so it was a Hail Mary.

You heart fluttered a little, hearing the words come from his lips. "YES! I..I mean sure. Yeah, totally." You really didn't mean to yell but who gets the chance to go on a date with a beefcake like him everyday?

Your enthusiastic reply made his lips quirk up into a small smile. He was glad you were just as nervous, terrified, and frankly down bad as he was.

While you were indeed as taken as him as he was with you, you were still a woman and wanted to meet in a public place. You had some common sense left. "How does coffee on Saturday sound? Or..or tea if you don't like coffee.." He in fact did not like coffee. His smile got a little wider and he nodded. "Sounds like a date."

Authors note: In my au, I don't think ghost joined the military, but I do think he did some boxing in his teens and early 20s, definitely getting roughed up alot. I'm not sure if I'm happy with how I wrote this, so who knows I might rewrite it in the future.

I also wanted to thank you guys for 300 some notes on the first part of this! I'm really new to writing, and I'm glad you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoy making it. Also, I'm a dork and a goofy ghost believer, so deal! Thanks for reading, and I hope you liked it!

[hornychristianprincess]

wasted (leehan x fem reader) pt. 1

paring: leehan x fem reader genre: smut, fluff, angst, fuckboy!leehan, college au word count: 6k summary: hooking up with a stranger at a party is fun when said stranger is a tall, attractive philosophy major whose name you don’t learn until weeks later. warnings: explicit sex scenes, oral (female and male receiving), a lil butt action but nothing too crazy

ao3 link can be found HERE.

“You’re a new face,” remarked the rich, husky voice belonging to the stranger who had just approached you. In a house party that was relatively packed, you thought you were blending in by sticking to the wall and enjoying your solo cup full of unlabeled liquor. And yet, here was the approaching figure of a man so tall you had to crane your neck to face him, knowing nothing about you and yet still managing to observe how out of place you seemed.

“That obvious, is it?”

“Don’t worry. It’s nothing about you, per se. It’s just, these things are usually pretty tight-knit; the same people come every time. So when someone’s new, you notice,” he tells you, his slow, calm way of talking making you feel relieved and deeply curious at the same time. “Do you go to school here?” 

You nod your head in confirmation, though it feels foreign to do so when parts of you still feel more like a visitor than a student. “I just transferred here.”

He smiles hospitably at this, gesturing his arms out towards the room of people who surround you. “Welcome to our vibrant community. Please enjoy your stay. Refreshments are in the back and the ice machine is down the hall.”

You giggle genuinely at him and the sort of clumsy, awkward way his words seem to land on you. He’s the kind of person you were expecting to meet when you transferred from your rural state school to this smaller liberal arts college. There’s something almost dorky and strange about him, from the way he dresses in an oversized cardigan and big round glasses to the way he holds eye contact with you for what you deem longer than normal. And yet, his self-assuredness is crystal clear to you. It’s at this moment that you acknowledge to yourself how attractive you find him.

“Did you come here with someone?” he asks you, his posture changing so that he’s leaning into you just slightly.

“Yeah. My roommate is here somewhere—” you gesture aimlessly around you, “—probably getting tongued down in someone’s bathroom.”

At this point, you had been fighting off the inclination to assume that the man in front of you was chatting you up for any reason outside of sincere curiosity. But his intentions are made crystal clear when he replies, “Yeah? Care to follow suit?”

You laugh both out of amusement and shock at his forwardness, and even he seems taken aback by his own candor as he smiles in a sheepish, apologetic sort of way. Still, the way that his piercing dark eyes never seem to cease their burning into you, there’s no doubt in your mind that he meant every implication embedded in that response.

“You know, you never told me your name,” you point out, not sure why you are prolonging what feels like the inevitable moment tonight when you’ll find yourself tangled in bed with the handsome man in front of you. Perhaps you’d just like to talk to him for a little bit longer, enjoy the gratification of his attention. Or maybe it’s just fun to tease him and watch the way his eyes crinkle in bashful embarrassment.

You’re pleased when he seems no less interested in you even as you divert from his advances. In fact, he perks up at your observation. “That I did not. Call me pretentious, but I like to think that learning my name is a privilege.”

You show your disinterest in this notion with a scoff, something the stranger seems to take in stride. “Is a man’s name not all that he has in this world, from birth to death?” he asserts with a prideful smirk.

“Philosophical. That your major?”

“How’d you know?”

You’re starting to feel a little scared with just how much you’re beginning to love the sound of your overlapping laughter. When it dies down, you bask in the brief moments of silence where neither of you knows what to say next and instead just stare at each other’s faces in an almost innocent, child-like way. It’s so different from what you’re both feeling inside, anticipation and lust and desire swirling in a mix that makes your bodies feel charged.

“So since you’re not telling me your name, should I tell you mine?”

“Only if you feel I’m worthy of it,” he replies. The game that he’s playing confounds you but you see no harm in playing into it, something tantalizing and freeing about not being bound to the expectations of each other’s names.

“That, my friend,” you reply, “is yet to be decided.” You raise your hand to push against his shoulder, surprised at how sturdy the skin under his cardigan feels. He ricochets dramatically against the force of your hand, and when his body returns to yours, it’s closer than before. He rests his hand on the wall just above your head, the way he’s angled making him appear even taller than he did before.

“You know, I was exploring this house earlier, and there’s a room in the back with a comfortable-looking king-sized bed,” he says, words that would sound fuckboyish and crude if anyone else said them, but come out dorky and amusing when he does, especially when his next statement is, “And the entire time I was in there, all I could think was, wouldn’t it be nice to have someone to pillow fight with?”

You smile, the expression mirrored on the stranger’s handsome face as he watches you react to his off-putting way of flirting. You decide to help him out by being more direct. “Are you asking me to pillow fight with you, stranger?” you ask, voice tilted in your best attempt at sounding seductive.

“Only if you’d be willing, stranger.”

When your roomate convinced you to go out with her tonight, you were intrigued by the notion of getting to know this new campus community, plus the always-tempting chance to get a few drinks in your system. You weren’t thinking that you would be in this position, about to hook up with a guy who won’t even tell you his name. 

You’ve been feigning confidence up until this point, an easy enough task when the man in front of you is good-looking and talkative. But now, as you prepare to follow him with the pretty certain chance of having sex, you have to finish off the remnants of your drink first, allowing the heat of liquid courage to wash over you like a warm blanket.

“Lead the way,” you tell him, taking the hand that he offers you before being led through the crowd of partygoers.

He takes you into a bedroom that’s on the ground floor, allowing you to settle in in front of him as he takes heed to lock the door. The bass from the loud music outside vibrates against the enclosed walls of the room. You’re grateful that it’s not completely silent, otherwise this would feel more awkward. 

“See,” the stranger says, walking over to face you. “I wasn’t lying about the king-sized bed.”

With the way he’s standing over you, combined with the looming implications of what you’re about to do – or rather, what you’re about to let him do to you – you’re too anxious to laugh. Instead, you stare at him, waiting for him to make the first move.

“Do you like to kiss when you hook up?” he asks you, straight-forward and to the point. You like that. You’ve never understood people who don’t like to kiss those they’re having sex with. Is the act of kissing somehow more intimate than letting someone inside you?

“Depends,” you reply, already moving to cradle the side of his face with your hand. “Are you a good kisser?”

He doesn’t answer verbally, moving instead to lean in so that your lips meet. Everything about this man feels like a paradox. Your interactions thus far have felt innocent, awkward even, and yet they still led to you following him into a stranger’s bedroom with the intention of having sex. And now, though his looks and the way he carries himself feel so clumsy, the way he kisses you is intense, all-consuming. 

He wastes no time trying to build up to something intense. Without pretense, his tongue is invading the wetness of your mouth, forcing your lips open as an audible whimper of surprise spills out. One of his hands comes up to lace itself into your hair, and in another act that surprises you, he pulls on it so that your faces come even closer. You’ve never found the taste of liquor on someone’s lips more addicting than you do now. 

You pull away to find a smirk on his lips, cockiness written all over his expression as he asks, “What do you think?”

It’s hard to conjure up any words when his hand is still in your hair, tipping your head back so that his eyes can comfortably rake over your face and particularly linger on your reddened lips. “I think I really, really want you to fuck me,” is what you manage, and even if you were the type to feel shameful at such remarks, it would be hard to when your words visibly light up his handsome expression until he’s kissing you again.

Your lips melt into his in a kiss so passionate it has you both walking backward in an eager effort to get each other onto the bed. You waste no time in pawing the clothes off of his slender body, satisfied as you hear his jeans then his cardigan hit the carpeted floor with a soft plop.

He does the same when it comes to your dress, a flowy, strapless piece that required you to go braless for it to work. Once it’s off and you’re both down to just underwear, you’re met with the feeling of his bare skin against your bare skin, your bare chest against his bare chest, and more relieving than anything else, the feeling of the bed frame meeting the back of your thighs as you finally reach the bed.

Pushing you up onto the edge of the bed, he lets his hands wander the expanse of your body, enjoying the feeling of your tits squeezed in the palms of his hands. You lean into his touch, moaning a little in his mouth as he never stops kissing you, even as he reaches down to breach the waistband of your underwear. 

You don’t realize how wet you are until his slender fingers push out to separate your folds, a task made difficult as your sticky arousal glues your lips together. But he manages it dextrously, wasting no time in finding your clit and drawing slow, teasing circles with the pads of his fingers.

His other hand, which had up until this point been palming your breast idly, now comes up to hold your face as he regretfully pulls his lips from yours. He studies your expressions with furrowed eyebrows, a teasing lilt in his voice as he asks, “Do you like it when I touch you here?” 

Just as soon as you part your lips to respond, his fingers dip lower until he’s sliding two of them into your fluttering hole. Your wetness provides no resistance, and now he’s coiling them deep inside of you. “Or here?”

You can’t think or respond when he’s pumping his long, slender fingers in and out of you, an act made more intense as he forces you to look at him with his hand on your jaw keeping your head in place. 

If you had to describe sex you’ve had in the past, vulnerable isn’t a word you’d use. 

And yet, it’s exactly how you feel as his eyes never leave your face, overseeing every expression you make from overwhelmed to whimpering to having your lips parted in a moan. 

A faint part of you wonders if you should feel more uncomfortable with how intimate this sex feels. 

And yet, you don’t think you’ve ever felt more pent up just with someone's fingers inside of you than right now, especially when he opens his mouth to praise you in his deep voice.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he says, his breezy tone of voice reminiscent of a lullaby. “I’m so glad I met you tonight. Can’t wait to fuck you.”

He fucks his fingers deeper inside of you as he says this, causing you to mewl as you throw your head back in his hands. “Don’t make me wait, then,” you challenge, gripping his arm to steady yourself as another moan threatens its way to your lips.

“Such a needy girl, aren’t you?” he wolfishly remarks. “Well, if you insist.”

With am amused smile on his face, he pulls his fingers out of you, raising them between your two faces so that you both can look on at the wetness which coats them. You’re not at all surprised when he brings them to his lips, only turned on as he sucks both fingers clean with a wet smack.

“Wanna know what you taste like?” he proposes, his expression and tone of voice far too innocent for what he’s just done. You don’t respond, only pull him into you for a kiss so lewd it makes your insides jump. You reach your hand between your bodies as you kiss him, attaching your fingers to the bulge protruding from his boxers. You enjoy the feel of his clothed cock, large and substantial in your hands, before he’s pulling away to sigh against your lips. 

Your hand leaves his body as he moves away from you. “Don’t go anywhere. Need to grab a condom.”

You watch him in amusement as he goes to hunch over his discarded jeans. In his absence, you relax on your stomach, facing him on the edge of the bed. “Where would I go, stranger?”

“I don’t know,” he intones, returning to you with a silver packet in between his fingers. “But If I could freeze you like this forever, so pretty and waiting for me to fuck you, I would.”

The stranger’s way with words has your body responding once more, a ripple of electricity traveling up your legs and even more so when he takes off his boxers in front of you. You’re not ashamed at whatever expression of suprise is surely showing up on your face at the sight. 

You’d likely use the word pretty to describe his dick, veins bulging out of it like little vines and a tip that matches the rosy color of his lips. You decide then that he’s the biggest you’ve ever taken, though you suppose you should save that judgment for when he’s actually managed to fit inside of you.

Your thoughts are broken by his touch as he lifts your chin up with his hands, a smirk ever so prominent on his puffy lips. “My eyes are up here, you know.”

You both giggle at his cheekiness, a moment of humour that is promptly ended when the opening of the condom packet grabs your attention. You reach out to cease his movements with a hand on his wrist. He meets your gaze with a cute, confused look on his face. “Wanna taste you first, stranger” you assert with a blink.

“You’re so cute,” he remarks enjoyably, “But I won’t last if you do.”

You look up at him through your eyelashes, batting them extra hard as you say, “Just a peck?”

As you already suspected from the lack of conviction in his earlier refusal, he’s not at all stern as he moves to rub his thumb across your cheek. “Since you asked so nicely,” he replies permissively.

You barely have to lean forward off the bed for your mouth to reach his cock, tall and straight and hard in front of your face. Wetting your lips with your tongue, you press a kiss just underneath his tip, making eye contact as you pull away to watch as a heavy sigh leaves his lips. You don’t stop at just one peck, peppering them all along his shaft and enjoying the smoothness of his skin against your lips.

“I thought you said just a peck?” he reminds you when he notices what you’re doing, placing a hand on your hair but making no effort to push you away.

“Am I not pecking?” you ask, relishing in the groan he lets out when you wrap your puckered lips over his reddened tip. You’re just about to open your mouth fully before he finally shows some restraint, pulling you off of him with a tug of your hair.

“That’s enough,” he asserts, the mattress dipping from his weight as he hops onto the bed behind you. “If I’m not inside of you within the next 5 seconds, I’m gonna lose my mind.”

Conscious of his presence behind you, you raise your body into an arch and feel pleased when he immediately grabs at your hips to pull you in closer. He ignores the impatient little wiggles of your ass that you do in attempt to get him to fuck you, prefering instead to spread your pussy open with his fingers and groan as he watches arousal spill out of you. “You’re so fucking wet,” he remarks dreamily, sliding a languid finger inside of you in a way that makes your arch deepen. “And it’s all for me, isn’t it, baby?”

His vocal tone has taken a shift so that he sounds less adoring and more sadistic, the observance of your arousal being just for him stated almost matter-a-factly. You don’t know why it turns you on even more than before, but it does, especially as he plays idly with pussy as if he forgets it belongs to a living, breathing you.

You’re fighting off whimpers as his fingers continue their exploration of your entrance. You hear him let out a long, drawn out “Fuck,” under his breath before he’s withdrawing from you entirely and asking, “Can I eat you out?”

Images of his plump, rosy lips flash through your mind like a movie sequence before you’re humming out affirmatively, excitement of what’s to come making your body tense as you feel him laying down on the bed, feel his breath against your mound as he becomes level with your pussy, feel his lips against your clit as he goes in to take all of you in his mouth.

The sounds that fill the room now are nothing but a lewd combination of your moans, his slurping, and the continued blaring of music coming from outside the walls. The way that he eats pussy is almost just as clumsy and unsure as he is, but he somehow manages to make you cry out as his tongue expertly flicks against your clit, or he licks into your entrance to taste the arousal there. 

You feel yourself becoming lightheaded and breathless as he licks you closer into orgasm. Already worked up from all the time he spent fingering you, what feels like the last straw is when he experimentally licks upward and brushes his tongue against the tight skin of your asshole. Noticing how it makes you moan and reach back to pull at his long hair, he keeps going, wetting your ass with his tongue. 

Alternating between this and your cunt, it’s only a matter of time when you find yourself mewling and tensing as your orgasm takes over your body. Your thighs are shaking and your hands are pulling so hard at his hair that you’re afraid you’ll rip it, but nonetheless he holds you up with two large hands against your ass and groans as you come all over his face. 

When he finally pulls away from you, your body collapses against the bed, all the marks of a good orgasm hitting you at once – ringing ears, tensed limbs, rising chest. You’re brought back to Earth by the feeling of faint, fleeting kisses being left on the expanse of your spine, the stranger’s body pressed against yours before he’s level with you and moving to pull your head to face his.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, sweet and innocent in yet another moment of tenderness that feels inappropriate for the setting you’re in. Nonetheless, you nod and relish in the feeling of his mouth against yours once more, acknowledging faintly to yourself that he just might be the best kisser you’ve ever been with.

He brings your body back to life by snaking his arms underneath you, grabbing at your boobs and almost making you feel ticklish as he gently caresses your stomach. Pulling away from your lips, he mutters the command of, “Turn around,” against your lips that you follow with zeal.

Flat on your back, you’re brought face to face with the man who has exceeded your expectations in almost every way compared to anyone else you’ve slept with so casually. Long locks of dark hair drape against the sides of face as he holds himself above you, making him look intense, but only briefly before he’s asking through an impish smile, “Are you intimidated by eye contact?”

He says it to you like it’s a challenge, like he hopes you’ll be shy so that he can guide you through it anyway. You shake your head stubbornly. “No,” you answer, “But I’m intimated by you.” It’s true. You’ve definitely never met a person like him, never had sex feel so intimate with a complete stranger. It scares you.

“Don’t be. I’m really a softie,” he assures, a childlike expression of excitement lighting up his handsome features. He presses a hand against your cheek in a gesture of affection, lips curling into a grin. “Only, my dick is as hard as a rock right now. Kinda wanna bury it inside of you.”

“What’s stopping you?”

You’re surprised when, in reply, he adjusts his body so that he’s lined up perfectly with your entrance, his latex covered tip pressing just slightly into you. “That’s a great question,” he quips, and without any further pretense, he slots himself inside of you.

You let out identical sounding sighs as his cock is engulfed by the sensitive, wet inside of your pussy. He presses his hips against you, making sure he’s as deep as he possibly can be before looking down at you for your approval. “Feels good?”

“Yes. Oh god, yes,” you’re whimpering in reply, head already thrown back as you get used to the feeling of his girth filling you. 

Hearing you express how good you feel is all the stranger needs to hear before he’s pulling out of you, methodically ensuring that just the tip is left inside before pushing back in. His vigor catches you by surprise, leaving you no time to adjust as he continues at a feverish pace. Unintelligible, broken-sounding cries spill out from your lips with each moment his hips meet yours.

“You have such pretty eyes,” he remarks as he watches you, a compliment you don’t think you’ve ever heard before while being fucked into the next dimesion. “And a pretty mouth, too,” he adds, his thumb breaching the wet insides of your lips before he’s leaning down to kiss you. The kiss is messy as you struggle to meet each other’s mouths, devolving into a mixture of tongue and spit and broken breath.

“Talk to me. Tell me how good I’m fucking you,” he groans against your mouth, sitting up on his knees to fuck you in an angle that’s deeper that before. With the pounding that he’s giving you, you’re just barely able to catch your breath, let alone form the words to respond to him.

“Can’t…scream your name if I don’t know it,” you manage to say in a teasing sort-of-way, your smirk widening into an open-mouthed cry as you’re sure he grazes your g-spot with a particualrly deep drive of his hips. 

He chuckles at your way of trying to get him to share his name, and whether he’s truly serious in wanting to withhold it from you or because he just wants to tease you, he says, “Come on my cock, and maybe I’ll tell you.”

“Fuck me harder, and I will,” you reply tauntingly, not because he’s not already, but because even through the haze of your approaching orgasm, you want to see how he’ll respond to your challenge.

He smiles at this request, though while maintaining his same pace. “But I don’t wanna break you, sweet girl,” he remarks, and if he weren’t, too, about to crash into his approaching climax, he’d surely make it a point to tease you for how you clench at the pet name. Instead, he opts to slot a hand between your legs and make work of your clit, rubbing it in tantalizing circles. “Does this help?”

Just as you were sure this sex couldn’t get any better, the added stimulation to your clit has your entire body reeling with pleasure. “Oh god, yes. Don’t stop.”

With each approaching second, you can feel yourself about to fall apart, a condition only worsened when the stranger pulls you down by your hips, bringing him even deeper inside of you. You love the sound of his deep voice from above you, sounding almost far-away and dreamlike as he mumbles remarks like, “Keep making those pretty noises for me, baby,” that shoot straight to your core, only adding to your wetness.

“Fuck, you’re killing me baby,” is what he says as his own pleasure begins to reach it’s peak. You love the expressions he makes, the almost painful look on his face as he says, “Wish I could come inside this tight little pussy.”

Even with the knowledge that he put a condom on, you can’t help but react positively to the notion of being filled with his hot, sticky release. And without intending it, your walls close tightly around his cock in tandem with the loud moan that on its own revealed just how much you enjoyed that little tidbit of dirty talk. And without fail, the stranger is quick to pick up on it and tease you for it, though through his own gritted teeth and groans as he inches closer to release.

“Yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you? If I filled you up with my cum? You wanna have my baby and you don’t even know my name?’

It’s the half-degrading, half-awe-inspired tone of voice he uses that throws you over the edge, your thighs shaking in anticipation of what you’re sure will be an earth-shattering orgasm. “I’m close,” you confess through baited breath.

“I know you are,” he acknowledges in reply, and without warning, your body convulses with the strength of your climax. “That’s it. Come on my dick.”

You don’t think you’ve ever felt anything quite like the overwhelming pleasure that washes over you in a series of pulsating, neverending waves. The stranger fucks you through it without any alteration in speed, and it’s just as you’re about to squirm away in overstimulation that he finishes with one last, deep thrust inside of you. The sound of his groans are just as melodic and husky as his voice is, sending little afterschocks of arousal up your belly until finally, he pulls out of you with a grunt.

Looking up at the ceiling, you feel the mattress dip beside you as he collapses onto the bed. Usually, this would be the point where the post-nut clarity hits you and you’d begin to regret another series of bad decisions that led you to a stranger's bed. Instead, as you lock eyes with who might possibly be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, you only wonder what you did to deserve such good fortune to have met him tonight.

“That was fucking amazing, stranger,” he remarks, putting voice to your own exact thoughts as he rolls over so that he can stroke your cheek idly. You try to hold off the pestering inclination to blink so that you can take in the rosy-cheeked, delicately striking state his orgasm has left him in. 

You thought that after giving you what was surely the best pounding of your life that you’d be less inclined to view him as a total weirdo. Instead, there is something so innocent now about the way he looks at you, as he can’t even believe this happened. Wanting to tease him, you reply, “Good enough for me to learn your name?”

He considers your question with an impish chuckle, and though you’re not at all desperate to know his name, you’re still surprised when he replies, “Will you forgive me if I say something tells me I want to keep you hanging for just a little while longer?”

There is an air of mysteriousness to his words that you pick up on but have trouble interpreting. And while you itch to know what’s going on in that big brain of his, you decide not to question him any further, instead just appreciating the ease and contentment of this moment. 

“You’re the strangest person I’ve ever met,” you tell him candidly, leaning in so that the tip of your noses touch. “But I’m glad I met you tonight.”

You’re not embarrassed at all when you lean in to kiss him, because even though the sex is over, you just want to feel his lips against yours one last time before you go back to being two strangers who will likely never see each other after this. He reciprocates, seemingly ignorant to the idea of kissing someone chastely as he pulls you in and slips his tongue into your mouth.

Nevertheless, when you pull away, you know the moment is over when he says, “Walk of shame out the door together?”

You’re not sad, only content as you turn to him and answer. “Let’s.”

It’s a cozy Thursday morning on your campus as you step outside to meet with your friend, Jaehyun. When you had allowed him to borrow your computations textbook, you had no idea it would lead you to his apartment complex, where he swore he had left the book on accident.

“I promise you, I thought I brought it with me to class, but I must’ve left it in my room,” he explained sheepishly, patting his pockets as he searched for his apartment key. With his straight-cut bangs and habit of forgetfulness, Jaehyun was about the closest thing to a friend that you had since transferring. You went to the same high school together, congregating in the same social circles but ultimately going two separate ways after graduation. 

It wasn’t until your first day at this new school that you sat down for your morning class and discovered that Myeong Jaehyun went here, too. Since that moment of recognition on both of your ends, he’s been your only piece of relative familiarly in a place that still feels new to you.

“Here we are,” mumbled a disgruntled Jaehyun as he finally managed to unlock the door to his apartment. It was your first time seeing the place, and as far as student housing went, you were impressed. The space was populated with nice-enough-looking furniture and boyish decorations that you could tell belonged to Jaehyun and whoever his roommate was.

“I’m gonna go get your textbook from my room. You can wait out here,” said Jaehyun, turning to head into the hallway where the rooms were. You were just about to get comfortable, maybe sit on his couch and chill as he invariably spent ages looking for your textbook, until the noise of a door opening startled you into attention.

“Oh hey,” said Jaehyun casually to a familiar silhouette that appeared into the hallway. “Y/N, this is my roommate, Leehan.”

You fought the urge to laugh out loud as you were met with the image of the stranger who, just a few weeks ago, was drilling his cock into you in some of the most mind-blowing sex of your life. When he first came out and hadn’t noticed you yet, he simply looked curious, as if he was coming out of his room to see what was causing the noise. But now, he barely fights off a smirk as he, too, processes your presence. All of this goes unnoticed by an unsuspecting Jaehyun, who proceeds into his room to rummage for your textbook.

Left alone with the boy who you can now identify as Leehan, you look him up and down, taking in his casual appearance and hair that has only grown longer in the time since you last met. He leans against his doorframe, looking you over with a gaze just as intrusive before saying, “So. Y/N, huh?”

Both of you laugh out loud at the same time, the humor and awkwardness of the situation hitting you all at once. The smile on Leehan’s face forces his eyes into crescent shapes that you faintly acknowledge as endearing. 

“Leehan,” you state with a grin, returning the preceding instance of acknowledging each other’s names. “It suits you. Although, I’m not sure it’s special enough to justify you withholding it.”

He shrugs indifferently at that, looking not even a little embarrassed as he replies jokingly, “What can I say? I prefer an air of anonymity when conducting my one-night stands.”

“Is that what that was?” you quip back with a tilt of your head. You know exactly that that’s what it was, but playing coy about it is how you save yourself from the embarrassment of having to address the weird sexual-tension-mixed-with-awkwardness that lingers between the two of you.

He runs a hand through his hair, maintaining the smile on his face as he shrugs noncommittally and replies, “I don’t know, I was too drunk to remember. In fact, who are you again?”

You both giggle, the atmosphere and banter between the two of you surprisingly easy, even outside the context of being drunk at a house party. You can faintly hear the sounds of Jaehyun’s rummaging becoming louder a few doors away, letting you know he’s no closer to finding your textbook. To your own internal surprise, a tiny part of you is relieved to have the time to see where this interaction with Leehan will go.

“So, you’re friends with Myeong Jaehyun?” he asks, gesturing his head in the direction of his roommate’s door just a few feet away. You notice how he slips his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants and straightens his posture, a move somehow making him look 10x taller.

“It’s a love/hate sort of thing. But yes, I’ve known him since high school.”

The corner of Leehan’s lips switch into a half-smile, something foreboding in his tone as he then says, “Then I guess I should expect to see you much more often, Y/N.”

You raise a questioning eyebrow, and through a confused grin, ask, “Why do you say that so ominously?”

Leehan doesn’t answer at first and instead just maintains his piercing gaze on your face. He’s so strange, but what’s even stranger is that you find yourself attracted to him. Attracted to him and his weirdly crooked smile and habit of staring at people for longer than normal. His shaggy brown hair and pouty lips that you can’t forget were once meshed with yours.

“No reason,” he finally answers, and before you can question such obviously purposeful ambiguity, it’s just then that Jaehyun comes out with your textbook.

“Found your book,” he says, cradling the thick textbook underneath his arm. Looking over at Leehan, whose open-mouthed expression obviously reveals he was in the middle of saying something, he pauses. “You good, Leehan?”

Leehan maintains a passive expression, though the hints of a smirk just barely bleed onto his lips as he gestures his head in your direction. “Yeah, just talking to Y/N.”

Jaehuun exchanges an inquisitive look between the two of you. “You guys know each other?”

Not sure how to answer that question, you look to Leehan for any non-verbal guidance. And funnily enough, he looks to you with the same sort of expecting look, and now you’re staring at each other for longer than normal, fighting back laughter as a confused Jaehyun looks on.

“You could say that,” Leehan replies, nodding his head affirmatively.

part 2 can be found HERE

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[dwaekkicidal]

The Meeting

˚ʚPerv!Emo!Han Jisung x Cutesy!Fem!Readerɞ˚

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: Based off of this ask.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: 1.9k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: told from his pov, jisung is a huge perv (lowkey a creep but we dont talk about that), public masturbation(m), exhibitionism, kinda iconifying? (f)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: Italics are Han's thoughts! also the picture is just a reference for the outfit i had in mind :) Part 2 maybe coming out this weekend

The Incidents Masterlist

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

It's Jisung's English Composition class. He sits at the farthest back table on his own, tapping away at his laptop as the teacher discusses some concept he couldn't care less about. He hears some ruckus past his airpods, but ignores it in favor of listening to the music that's playing. That is, until, a figure covered in pink and white stands directly behind his screen. It's very obvious that the person is looking at him, but he tries to ignore it hoping that they will just go away.

It's not until the person's hand reaches out and waves in front of his screen that he finally looks up. As his eyes trail up the person's body he slowly realizes who it is. When their eyes meet, it finally clicks. Y/N L/N. The popular girl who is friends with "everybody" and dresses in short, short skirts with thigh highs and her stupid Hello Kitty pendant necklace that falls perfectly between her boobs. It should be my face there.

His eyes move to the top of her head, glancing at the fluffy pink scrunchie that holds her hair together in two pigtails. Then they move lower, catching her shiny eyes that are risen at the edges from her smile. And- oh. Her smile.. The one that is created from those pretty plump lips covered in a pinkish-red tinted gloss. He starts to picture what they would look like wrapped around his-

But then she's tilting her head and mouthing words at him. Oh, fuck that's right. His hands bolt up to his ears, yanking the earbuds out and completely forgetting about the music that bleeds out. He holds them away from his ears and meets her eyes again, almost moaning out loud when she bites her lip bashfully and speaks up again. Her silky sweet voice finally meets his ears and he can feel his dick twitch in his jeans.

"My group was being loud so we got separated for the rest of the semester.. Is that seat taken?" Her short charm-clad acrylic nails catch his attention for a moment as she points to the seat occupied by his bag. Fuck.. what he would give to see them also wrapped around- Ok ok calm the hell down Jisung.

"Uh.. yeah?" His voice comes out pathetic and he almost explodes from embarrassment when he realizes that he answered the wrong way. The corners of her shiny lips turn downwards and she goes to take a step back. But somewhere in that horny brain of his, he grows the balls to shoot out his hand to grab her wrist, "Wait! Sorry, I meant it's not taken. It's my bag. Let me move it out of your way. Oh- fuck sorry I didn't mean to grab you all of the sudden I-"

He starts to ramble, his pink cheeks jiggling as he desperately moves to throw his bag on the floor. She giggles at the sight and he malfunctions, accidentally dropping his bag as he looks up at her dumbfounded.

She makes her way around the table and he gets a whiff of her vanilla-strawberry perfume as she sits. His dick twitches again in his jeans and he inhales again, then he looks over at her from the corner of his eye. Her nails clack against her laptop as she pulls it out and opens it. Of course it's fucking covered in Sanrio stickers. Hello Kitty stickers being the most of them. He doesn't think he's been so envious of a 2D pixelated character in his life until the day he laid eyes on her.

Her hair bounces as she turns to him, those pretty lips taking all his attention again as he watches them move with every word. "My name's Y/N L/N. You're... Han! Right?" He nods slowly, no longer trusting his voice in the slightest. How does she know my name?!? I don't even talk to anybody in this class.. "Yeah.. Han Jisung."

She smiles widely, then those nails are moving around in his field of view again. This time her hands go up to her necklace, fiddling with it as she leans back into her chair and her shiny lips part again. "It's nice to finally meet you, by the way. We had statistics together last semester, but we didn't get the chance to talk at all." 

"Oh. You remember that class?" He grimaces and rubs the back of his neck, zoning out after she nods. He suddenly remembered the presentation for the final his group had to do in that class, And he vividly remembers the hard-on he had during it. It was only because of her and that stupid sundress she had on that day. Fuck you mother nature for the summer heat that day..

When her eyes turn to the whiteboard, he looks down at his crotch and rolls his eyes when he sees an evident bulge. He pulls the hem of his sweater down to cover it up and looks up at the clock hopefully, but is quickly shut down. God damn it.. It’s only noon and this class ends at 3:30.. I'm so fucked.

He gets through the next 2 hours before his hard on becomes too much to handle. His hand sneaks from the touchpad to his crotch, palming it lightly to relieve some pressure. Just real quick, he swears. It hurts like a bitch, so just this for now until I can go home. But all too easily he gets addicted to the feeling and pushes harder until he’s full on stroking himself through the fabric.

Shit.. she won't notice.. right? A sudden movement in the corner of his eye grabs his attention and he stops like a deer in headlights, in fear that she already figured out what he was doing and that he would get told off for being a freak in front of the entire class.

He glances over, watching for a moment as she instead mindlessly twirls her hair. Eyes still completely forward and focused on the professor. Then his eyes trail a little lower. Her lips are puckered in a cute pout. She eventually un-puffs her cheeks in favor of poking her tongue out slightly, in what he can only assume is focus as she types away at her laptop.

He watches for a few more seconds before slowly trailing all the way down, taking in her outfit and every curve of her body that he can see. When his eyes finally meet her thighs, he thinks his eyes are gonna pop out of his head. The skirt, that was already too short to be appropriate for a place of education, was ridden so far up her thighs that he swears if she just spread her legs even the slightest he could get a glance of her panties. Speaking of her thighs, the plush, bare skin there looks so soft. So biteable.. He licks his lips at the sight.

Before he realizes what’s happening, his eyes peek around to make sure nobody is in the neighboring tables. Then his hand moves on its own, sneaking out of the arm of his thankfully oversized sweater and sliding over his shirt to his pants. He clears his throat to cover up the noise of his jeans unbuckling and unzipping, and then his hand finally slides into his boxers. It was a tight fit but god was he going to make it work.

He strokes himself slowly, angling his dick upwards in hopes that the sweater would cover up the movements. He looks down for a few seconds and bites his lip, biting back a victorious smile as the sweater does just that. 

Feeling a little more relaxed, he allows his eyes to flutter closed. Immediately images of her flood his mind. Images of those pretty, glossy lips wrapping around his dick, those pretty big eyes looking up at him all watery while he shoves his dick down her throat. Images of her pretty pink nail-clad fingers wrapped tightly around his dick. He starts to stroke himself a little faster, imagining that it's her hand instead of his. Fuck. Now images of her jerking him off in the middle of class fill his head. 

His entire body shivers at the thought and he leans forward, resting the elbow on his free arm on the table as he speeds up again. He glances down once more to make sure he’s hidden well, then sighs a little too loudly. He tilts his head down slightly, pulling his hoodie down to cover his face. He knows damn well how expressive his face can be and if that is what gives him away, he would never forgive himself. ‘M so close….

He basks in the pleasure for about a minute before a hand on his shoulder startles him. His hand immediately stops. His eyes shoot open and he snaps his head to his left, looking at the girl as if he’s disoriented. The face he was just fantasizing about looks at him worriedly, eyebrows furrowed and head tilted.

“Are you okay, Hannie?” His hand subconsciously squeezes his dick at the sound of her hushed voice and the new nickname. He breathes heavily for a moment, stuttering slowly as he racks his brain for the best excuse he could think of when she speaks up again. “Do you have a headache or something? You look like you’re sick, and your face is all sweaty!” She giggles at the last part and he watches as her eyes trace a drop of sweat down his forehead to his chin.

He nods his head, gulping as his hand slowly begins its movements again. She mocks his nod, eyebrows still furrowed. He feels her hand caress his biceps through the sweater. She means it in nothing but a soothing way, he’s sure of it. But the warmth of her hand on his skin after the thoughts he just had only made him twitch in his grasp.

He whines and leans forward, resting his arm flat on the table and resting his head on the fat of his forearm. To anybody else looking it seems like he was sleeping, and the way her hand moves to skim his back, also soothingly, just encourages him to move his hand again.

Her worried voice is suddenly close to his ear as her hand slows to a stop, and as his own hand continues to move along his length. “If you want me to stop, let me know please. I’m super touchy and I just wanna help.” His eyes roll into his skull and she can see his head faintly shake ‘no’. “It’s f-fine. I don’t mind it.” He misses out on seeing her smile as she hums and moves her hands once again, this time more confidently and down his spine.

It doesn’t take him very long to build up his orgasm. The feeling of her nails raking down his back, the imagery of her below him that floods his senses, and the feeling of his tip rubbing along his boxers join together to create one of the craziest orgasms he thinks he’s ever had. He moves his head slightly and latches onto his forearm, biting down roughly to stop himself from moaning out loud as he cums right then and there.

He strokes himself through it, waiting until he feels the cum stop spilling out his dick to pull his hand out and release his poor arm. He softens against the wet spot in his underwear and desperately wipes the excess that got onto his hands on his shirt. Fuck.. I just washed these too.

The post-nut clarity hits too fast, the charmed nails that are still raking up and down his back make sure of that. When he peeks out to look at the girl, he watches her type with her free hand, eyes focused on her laptop screen. And completely unaware of what he just did to the thought of her.

His now unoccupied arm wiggles through the sleeve of his sweater, meeting his other arm on the desk as he rests against it.

This is gonna be a long semester.

Taglist:

@jiminssluttyminx @changisworld @juskz @linohumina @rylea08 @grandma143 @caught-in-the-afterglow @yaorzu-blog