#HE HAS A FUCKING RESUME H

[okcoolthanks]

Yay I love being terrified of the future

[ervotica]

MDNI pairing; simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader warnings; smut (18+ ONLY), rough rough sex, heavy choking, breathplay & asphyxiation in a controlled environment, loss of consciousness, multiple orgasms, simon is mean but in a sweet way, pre-established consent, subspace (may write a part two of the aftercare if that's something you lot would be interested in!) a/n; this is my first cod fic so go easy on me please!! my cod requests and thirst discussions are wide open (like me for simon ngl) so if you have anything you want to talk about or request PLEASE don't hesitate to pop it in my inbox!

Really, you did this to yourself.

You're the one who asked Simon to be rough, to manhandle you, to fuck you hard and deep until you forget your own name.

He does just that.

He's got your back anchored to his firm chest by means of a thick bicep curled around your throat, restricting your airways just enough until the world tunes out around you, everything a little fuzzy as he pistons his hips into your soft cunt; all you can feel is him, the way the fat head of his cock nestles deep against your cervix, the drag of it against your walls as he pulls out only to force you wide open again for him.

You're far past forming coherent words, eyes rolling and lashes fluttering when he hikes you further up by the soft column of your throat until you arch against his chest, limp and pliable like putty under the control of those experienced hands. Your cunt drools with each rocking movement, excreting more of the milky fluid as the vein that runs against the underside of his cock- purple and angry with his arousal- creates a delicious friction against your pulsing insides.

You garble something entirely unintelligible when that corded arm tightens around your neck, your mouth hanging open as you drool like a leaky tap, kiss-bitten lips gaping when you halfheartedly attempt to form something that isn't completely inarticulate.

You can't even warn him before you're cumming on the length of him with a silent cry, your muscles pulling tight like a bowstring as you quiver under his expert touch before you're falling limp, dead weight in his arms. His spare hand reaches up and over to deliver a firm slap to your cheek in an effort to rouse you from your haze, but you only sink further into that blissful headspace where nothing matters except the way that he's fucking you.

You're not sure you could beg him for more if you tried despite so desperately wanting it. Your sticky cunt weeps over his cock, running in a stream downward until his heavy balls are saturated in your sweet juices, your body twitching weakly when the pleasure washes over you once again.

"There you go, baby," he murmurs, fisting your hair into a ponytail at the back of your head until he's snapping your head up, those eyes hungrily surveying your wrecked expression– eyes blackened with mascara from crying on his cock, lids barely open in your daze, lips swollen and flushed dark with colour. If he were to release his bruising grip on you, you'd crumple, entirely unable to hold yourself up. "My good, good girl. You gonna let me give you one more?"

You whine something that neither one of you understand, but the nod of your head and the way your eyes light up as you drag yourself from bliss just enough to affirm has him resuming his movements, hiking his knee up and over your hip to give him deeper access to fuck you; his pace quickens and you're damn near wailing by the time he grabs your bobbing throat, all hulking six foot four of him tipping forward until your airway is near completely cut off and your noises are silenced by the flexing muscles.

"Easy, love, take it easy," he murmurs, demands really, cadence gravelly but saccharine sweet, a stark juxtaposition to his cruel touch; you're barrelling towards another orgasm, entire body alight and burning with a pleasure that's damn near unbearable; your arse is slick and bruised, branded by his touch as his hips slap lewdly against you.

It hits you like a freight train, every muscle pulling tight and then suddenly liquifying all at once– and as the pleasure ebbs away, you're hit with the frightening realisation that you truly can't breathe. You force a limp hand up to claw at the tense muscles clamped around your neck, a pained, gasping little noise breaking free of the confines of your chest. But still, he doesn't let up. The room spins and shrinks around you, darkness creeping in at the corners until it's consumed you. His voice is dark and unyielding against the shell of your ear.

"Let it happen," he says. "'ve got you. Don't fight it."

It's not like you have much of a choice anyway as your head drops, hair hanging loosely around your face when you fall headfirst into darkness.

When you come to, you're flat on your back, no longer speared on the thick length of him as he lazily pumps his cock, pressing your knees upward against your chest in order to have ample room to torture your throbbing cunt with calloused fingers.

"There she is." Simon grins when you whimper and reach up for him, gazing through sticky lashes with those teary eyes he adores. He indulges you, coming forward to smear a quick kiss to the crown of your skull before he's gathering your slick with the head of his cock, breaching your sore entrance once again.

That night, you're sure you meet God.

And he looks an awful lot like Simon Riley.

[coryosbaby]

Mascara || T. Riddle

Fandom: ‘Harry Potter’

Pairing: Young! Tom Riddle x fem! Ravenclaw! Reader

｡.｡ ♡ Content warning . Public sex, praise & degradation, cum play, sub! Reader, dom! Tom

Notes: set in modern day Hogwarts. I never thought i’d want to fuck Voldemort but here we are.

Your feet patter softly against the tile floors of Hogwarts, a book clutched tightly in your arms as you make your way towards the school’s library. It’s a rainy night, incredibly quiet and empty. The other students are at dinner, and you’ve decided to skip out to study for your OWLs. When you open the big wooden doors to the library, the smell of printed ink and old pages invites you further in.

The first thing you notice, when you close the doors behind you and take sight of the room, is that the librarian, Madam Pince, is no where to be found. She must be on her break.

The second thing you notice is the boy sitting in the darkest corner of the room.

You know of the familiar brunette— of course you do. Who wouldn’t? Tom Riddle is a popular slytherin well known for his cunningness, his intelligence, his ability to speak native tongues— and sometimes, his temper. A ravenclaw yourself, you try to steer clear of him. Slytherins usually don’t take politely to anyone outside of their house. Not to mention the fact that you scored the top of your class, with him coming in close second. You suspect that he hates you for that.

He catches your gaze, brown eyes with the resemblance of a serpent. He looks back down at his book, seeming bored.

You let out a breath of air.

You slide your book into the return bin, timidly moving to the shelf about Potions. Snape has been really hassling you lately on your grades, and you really need to turn your B+ into a perfect A. Your fingertips skim over the leathered binds, reading title after title. A voice behind you makes you jump.

“If you’re studying for Snape’s final, I’d recommend ‘Advanced Potion Making’. It will tell you all you need to know.”

His voice is an angelic lilt, though you know that is not in any way what he resembles. The fact that he’s helping you stumps you into utter confusion, and heat creeps up your neck. You nod to him as you begin searching for the book.

To no avail. Your eyes search every bind, every word, but your focus has been diluted because of Tom speaking to you. He sighs, almost annoyed.

He appears beside you, much to your surprise. You nervously bite your lip as he finds the exact book he recommended and pushes it into your hands.

“Chapter nine. I would’ve thought a girl of your ranking in our class would know this already.”

Your brows furrow, embarrassment coursing through you as he sits back down and resumes his tasks. You nervously fumble with the book.

“Thank you.” You reply, because you had been taught proper manners. He scoffs, flicking through the pages of his book. You can’t read the title, though the cover is quite off put ish and dark. Perhaps he had snuck into the restricted section.

“Don’t.”

You frown, though your mind is peaking with curiosity. He seems rude, but he was trying to help you. Maybe there’s something nice under there, after all. Your body is stiff as you sit across from him at the table, silently pleading to God that the boy across from you won’t put a nasty hex on you.

“You don’t have to be rude, you know.”

It slips out of your lips, quiet and unsure. Tom’s eyes narrow at you.

“And as well as that, you don’t have to sit across from me.”

“Perhaps I want to. Perhaps you need a friend.”

“A friend?” He chuckles dryly, his gaze travelling down to your robes. You try to ignore the heat creeping between your legs. “We aren’t going to be friends.”

His insinuation is thick, dangerous. Your heart pounds out of your chest at this unexpected turn of your study hour. You gulp, looking down at the pages.

“Very well then. But since I’ve already sat down, I might as well continue my book here.”

“Or we could continue this conversation in my dorm room.”

He says it smoothly, with no fear or utmost insecurity.

“What?” You blanch, stuttering on your syllables. Tom smirks.

“A smart girl like you, and you can’t even comprehend a single sentence,” he says, his body beginning to move out of his chair. “‘S pathetic, really…”

You breath hitches as his tall form towers over you. Your fingertips grasp the sides of your chair as he leans in close.

“Tom,” you start, warningly. He quirks a brow.

“No?” He questions, and then after a moment, staring into your doe eyes, it dawns on him. His mouth forms into a grin. “Oh, you want it here, don’t you? You want it right here.”

His lips brush just inches over your pouty lips, and you wonder how in the hell you got into this situation and why this slytherin boy is making such a sudden move on you. But knowing Tom, it’s probably out of boredom. Out of the desire for a hook up.

You don’t mind it. Not really, not anymore, because all your protests are ripped away from you when he presses his lips to yours. It’s not tender or sweet, it’s full of sharp teeth and unfiltered lust. His hands rest on your chin, gripping your head so you can’t escape his kiss— can’t escape him.

Your tongue is about to graze his lips when he pulls away. His fingers grasp your shoulder and pull you up to your feet. You stumble, your legs shaky from just a couple of kisses. You gasp when he spins you around and presses your face against one of the nearest bookshelves. His big hands wrap around your wrists and hold them behind your back.

“I don’t want to hear any complaints from you. Do you understand me?” He whispers, his hands reaching down to lift up your robes. “If I do, I’ll leave you here drenched, your clothes gone, with your holes freshly fucked and on display for the entire school to see. Do you understand me?”

You nod instantly. You know that these aren’t empty threats; when Tom says he’s going to do something, he’ll do it.

When he pulls up your robes, taking in the sight of your pretty pink thong, he lets out a sharp breath.

“Prepared, weren’t you?”

You let out a whine, knowing that no, this wasn’t intentional. Tom just caught you on a specific type of day. But looking on it now, maybe the universe was being in your favor when you decided to pick out the flimsy undergarment.

Tom slips the hem of your robes into your hands.

“Hold it.” He commands, and you’re quick to comply.

His hardness presses against you, clothed still but his robes are lifted so he can rut against you in his briefs. It isn’t long before he’s pulling them down past his thighs, his cock sprinting up into the air as he places himself against you once again. You can’t help but drip with need, canting your hips back against him. His cock presses in between the seam of your ass, and you rub against him like a bitch in heat.

And just like a bitch in heat, you purr.

“Tommy..” you let out, and his grip on your hips tighten. “Please?”

He scoffs at the nickname, though his bottom lip is caught roughly between his teeth and he’s trying to contain himself. He wraps his hand around his awaiting length, parts your thighs with the other, and slides his dick up against your throughly aroused pussy.

He’s warm, sticky. You wish you could’ve seen him before this, seen that thing that feels oh so heavy between your legs, but it’ll have to wait. Hopefully, there will be a next time.

When he slides in, it stretches you obscenely. This isn’t your first time, but there’s a burning sensation as he enters you. He’s got the perfect amount of thickness and length to pull a moan deep from your throat.

He doesn’t start slow. His hips smack against yours at a rapid pace, small grunts leaving his silky lips as he uses you like a common whore. Your hands grip your robes and the bookshelf at the same time, trying to keep steady as Tom fills you to the brim. He noses along your jaw and leaves wet, open kisses there. You mewl when he bites down harshly and sucks a mark into your skin.

“Such a tight little cunt you have,” Tom breathes, his fingertips bruising your hips. “Look at you, such a slut for my cock. Does it feel good? Tell me, tell me how it feels.”

Your thighs squeeze him, your mouth gaping open in utter ecstasy. Your words are caught in your throat, but Tom is quick to force them out of you with a spank to your ass. You moan, your forehead pressing against the bookshelf’s wooden edge.

“Yes! Yes, it feels so good…” you slur, entranced by the spice of his cologne and the feeling of his girthy length splitting you open. He grunts, bucking his hips into you with vigor.

“And I bet it’s the best you’ve had, isn’t it? All those other boys can’t do it for you. I’m the only one that fucks you this good.”

It’s true, and when his cockhead hits a spot deep inside you that has you keening, your legs quiver and your brain turns to jelly. Tom’s fingers place themselves around your neck and squeeze so hard that your vision blurs at the edges, and you’re enthralled by the fear that courses through your veins. He’s playing your life in his hands like it’s a shiny new toy.

He fucks you like a madman as you gasp and beg for air. Tears spill out of your eyes, salty and wet and Tom takes notice.

“Crying?” He sneers, pounding you so hard that you’re sure the bookshelf will leave bruises as it presses against you. “You’re pathetic. A pathetic, filthy little girl.”

“Mmmhhh..” you cry out. Your eyes roll back as you utter incoherent sounds. He growls.

“Do you want me to cum inside you?” And then, with a harsh grip on your hair, “I want to hear you say it. Beg me. Beg me to fill you, whore.”

Your eyes shut tight, and your hands clasp around his wrists as he loosens his grip on your throat.

“Please,” your voice is a gasp as you finally get oxygen unto your system. “Please, Tom, f-fill me up. Cum inside me.”

A small, throaty groan escapes his lips, and with one last desperate thrust he’s spilling balls deep inside your drooling cunt. His cum spills over the cusp of your used entrance, and when he’s done fucking it into you he pulls out with a sharp exhale.

You can feel his cum spill out of your raw fucked hole, the creamy fluid dribbling down your thigh and dripping onto the carpet below. Your clit throbs mercilessly, still devoid of any attention, but Tom is quick to put a stop to that. He drops to his knees, then, and it’s a surprising gesture that you didn’t expect. He doesn’t seem like the type to get on his knees for anyone, let alone you. But his tongue lolls out of his mouth as he spreads your knees and catches his cum into his awaiting mouth. He licks up your hole, circling your clit with practiced precision. You let out a guttural sound when you hear the obscene noises of the cum spilling out of you, along with Tom’s mouth slurping at your cunt vigorously. He works at you over and over, and you clench when you feel yourself nearing your high. It’s almost embarrassingly quick, but you’ve been denied so long that you need to do it and you need to do it now.

“I’m going to…” you gasp out, as he rubs circles into your clit. He lets out a loud grunt against you, his mouth working harder. “I’m cumming—god, I’m cumming!”

Your orgasm washes over you, hits you like a tidal wave in the middle of an incredibly large ocean. Tom works his tongue and lets you ride out your high, and he sighs and pulls away from your pussy when you come down.

He’s gathered enough arousal to fill his mouth generously, and he kisses you flat on the lips. His tongue slides against yours and you can taste your shared arousal on him. You whimper, licking desperately at his salty spend, and it’s messy and sloppy and absolutely depraved. His teeth nip at you as you swallow it all down.

You’re dizzy, on shaky legs. You turn around, finally getting to see Tom’s face coated in your slick and his cum. He grins at you, and something twists in your gut so primal you feel you might burst.

“Better get to studying, Miss Y/L/N,” he says. “It’d be a shame if this missed study session made you fail your OWLs.”

[gothicgaycowboy]

❤︎ Jacaerys Targaryen NSFW alphabet ❤︎

My modern Jace’s parents are Rhaenyra and Alicent hence why I’m using the last name Targaryen instead of Velaryon <3

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

King of aftercare. Nobody else does it like this man when it comes to aftercare and he doesn’t even do it consciously. It’s just his instinct to take care of you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He’s not very into idolizing his own body but he likes his shoulders the most. He learned to appreciate them more when you started complimenting them.

Jace is a thigh man. He loves grabbing at them while he fucks you or feeling them squeeze around his head when he’s eating you out. Natures pillows as he calls them.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum basically)

His favourite place to cum is on your face. It’s probably the most shocking thing about Jace considering he’s the biggest gentleman out of all his brothers, but he just can’t help it. The image of your pretty face coved in his load will never not drive him insane.

D = Dirty Secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

He doesn’t really have any crazy secrets, but he really wants to record the two of you fucking. He thinks about it more than it’s probably reasonable for a person to think about it. Setting up his phone to take in the sights and sounds of you getting fucked by him.

Jace knows it’s incredibly stupid and risky with the profile of his family’s name — neither of you have even sent nudes to each other for that reason. It’s just the idea of the two of you having a sextape for your eyes only is very hot to him.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He went through a phase of sleeping around in high school like his brother (Aegon of course) until he realized it wasn’t for him. He didn’t feel right using girls like that, he’s a romantic to the core.

The only good thing that came out of his little experimentation was building up quite the resume of experience. You’re grateful for his little hoe phase as you called it.

F = Favorite Position (this goes without saying, may include a visual)

Jace is a firm believer in the superiority of missionary. He gets to control the pace and look directly at you the whole time. If he’s feeling wild he’ll hike your knees over his shoulders.

He also loves being able to whisper dirty things in your ear while fucks you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous?)

He is generally a lighthearted guy at all times so the bedroom wouldn’t be that different. He would never take himself too seriously but he’d also never ruin a perfectly romantic moment by acting like an absolute loon.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes?)

When it comes to shaving he prefers comfort over aesthetic. He’ll trim when necessary but you are never getting that man shaven bare. He’d want you to do the same in terms of shaving for your enjoyment, not his.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Jace is a good old fashioned lover boy. He believes in romance out and inside of the bedroom. Some people have called him corny but he takes it as a compliment.

But just because it’s romantic doesn’t mean it’s boring and repetitive. This man puts all he has into his lovemaking. Honestly he thinks it’s what he was put here to do with his life.

J = Jack Off (how often do they do it? how do they feel about it?)

Probably about once or twice a week. He would never use porn though, for one he knew all that shit was fake, and it just felt wrong especially when he had you. He likes to use his imagination when he does it, picturing you sprawled out underneath him, bouncing with every thrust he gives you, eyes rolling into the back of your head.

In his mind that’s better than any porn ever made, because it’s just for him. Although he does still want to have a real video of you at some point in the future.

K = Kink (what are they into?)

He’s pretty basic when it comes to kinks. Dirty talk will always get him going — the sound of your voice in general actually. He’s convinced he could cum from the sound of you reading him a grocery list. He also really likes watching you masturbate. Seeing the way your body moves in response to your own hands and toys is priceless to him.

L = Location (favourite places to have sex)

He’s a bed guy all day and all night. Nothing beats the comfort of his sheets, but he’s open to trying out wherever you want to.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going?)

Kissing will always led to something more with Jace. Innocent peck on the cheek? It’s moving to the mouth. On the lips? You’re gonna feel some tongue sneaking its way through.

If you kiss him on the neck you are asking for it. His neck might honestly be more sensitive than his cock.

N = Nope (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Absolutely nothing that hurts you. The only way he can stay turned on is to know he’s causing you pleasure, not pain.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

If he had to choose between never eating pussy or never getting his cock sucked he will happily choose never getting head again.

Jace was built to eat pussy. It’s his idea of heaven. He will spend hours doing it without even breaking a sweat. There have been many times where you had force his moth off you because he ‘wasn’t done yet’. Your pussy is literally a drug to him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual?)

Jace is all about taking his time with you so it’s slow and sensual all the way.

Sex with him always starts with you getting eaten out (and we all know he’s enjoying every minute of that) so after he’s had his fill of you that’s when he gives you what you’ve been waiting for. Hips rocking smoothly into you as he tells you how gorgeous and perfect you are.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often?)

He would prefer not to, but if you or him are feeling desperate then he’s not too prideful to get down on his knees for you real quick.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks?)

He’s pretty vanilla when it comes to experimenting but he will do almost anything to make you happy.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last?)

A two to three rounds type of guy for actual penetration, but if we’re talking eating pussy? Days on end with no breaks.

T = Toy (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He was open to trying them when you asked him but the idea has never crossed his mind on his own. He never thought of them as a necessity. The first time he watched you use a vibrator on yourself changed his mind instantly. Anything that gives you pleasure gives him twice as much.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease?)

Only so he can make your high last longer. He will rub your clit for hours before he lets you cum just so he can watch you squirm.

V = Volume (how loud are they, what sounds do they make?)

He’s more of a whines and moans type of guy than a grunter. He also loves praising you.

W = Wild Card (a random headcanon)

He’s never tried eating ass but he secretly wants to. When he’s down there, nose rubbing circles against your clit, while his tongue licks its way into your wet hole, he’s been tempted to travel a little lower. To spread your cheeks and run his tongue against your ass while his fingers spread your cunt open is his fantasy.

The only thing stopping him is he’s afraid you’ll think he’s gross.

X = X-Ray (what’s goin’ on under those clothes?)

Hung like a true horse. Other than just being a people pleaser to his core, the whole reason he got so into eating pussy was because he knew in order to take some of that initial pain away he needed to prep you first.

He never wants to hurt you but it’s just inevitable sometimes with the absolute size of him. BDE comes with a price.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive? how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He wants to live between your legs. Jace has ‘joked’ many times that the ideal day off for him would be having you sit on his face until he suffocates. He’d be more than thrilled to go out that way.

Z = ZZZ (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

You run him ragged. Even if you fuck during the day it is required both of you have a power nap immediately after.

I wrote way too many of these alphabets back to back so sorry if the wording in a them is a little repetitive, hope you enjoyed ♡

[loudstan]

Bestie

Summary: A project for your botany class goes wrong. Now you and your friend who you have a very obvious crush on are stressed and horny.

Pairing: Werewolf! Yangyang x Witch female reader

Warnings: Smut, sex pollen, phone sex, JUST THE TIP IS NOT A SAFE METHOD FYI, friends to lovers, I would call this couple dumb and dumber. Also I need him. No angst (FINALLY)

Yangyang was a weird guy. 

That’s what you thought when he joined the same botany class as you for elective credits, and he was already muttering something about how he hated it before it started. He wasn’t talking to anyone in particular but he was dropping his bag and sitting on the available seat next to you so you could hear him.

“Then why did you enroll?” you asked, a little annoyed. He was kinda cute, but a grown adult whining about his chosen class was a turnoff.

“All the good classes were full already,” he replied petulantly. “I’m not even good with plants. I killed my mom’s cactus when–” his sentence died out when he turned to look at you and he just stared at you dumbly.

You lifted your brows, expecting him to finish the story about how one manages to kill a cactus, but he just stared.

“What’s wrong with you?” you finally asked.

“H-hi,” he said instead of replying, with a nervous yet cheerful tone, contrary to the one you had heard earlier. “I’m Yangyang.”

You frowned. You had met a few weirdos on campus, so you assumed he was just one of them. Still, you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“I’m Y/N,” you said, offering your hand for him to shake.

His eyes lit up and he grabbed your hand, but he immediately pulled back with a …moan?

“Fuck, bad idea,” he murmured, standing up and getting away from you like you had just burnt him.

Fairly enough, your hand felt incredibly hot after he touched it and a comforting warmth was now expanding in your chest.

“Bad idea,” he repeated, grabbing his backpack and running towards the door. “Nice to meet you, Y/N!” he yelled before disappearing. 

Yangyang was euphoric like never before. As he ran home he felt the cold wind hit his reddened cheeks and the still-fresh memory of your citrus scent mixed with the ocean breeze so perfectly he found himself with his arms wide open and inhaling deeply. It smelled like happiness. Holy shit, your scent should definitely be called liquid happiness and sold in tiny expensive bottles. But then other people would get to smell you.

A low growl resonated in his chest and he stopped dead in his tracks, placing his palm on his chest to feel the vibrations. 

Was he being possessive?

Wow, so the others weren’t exaggerating when they said imprinting made you unreasonably jealous and clingy. ‘Wolf instinct’ they called it.

He resumed his way home, now feeling the fatigue and pain that everyone told him about when entering an unscheduled rut due to imprinting, which he also mistakenly thought was an exaggeration. 

“Skipping class already?” Ten asked, unimpressed, as soon as Yangyang opened the front door.

“Yes, but it's an emergency,” Yangyang said, out of breath and dragging his feet to come in.

“What’s wrong?” Ten asked with a concerned tone this time.

“My dick’s about to explode.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“I’m so serious,” Yangyan groaned, barely making it to the sofa and flopping on it. “Imprinting better be fucking worth it because this hurts.”

“Imprinting?” Ten repeated incredulously. “You imprinted?!”

The younger nodded tiredly. “She’s so hot, hyung. Everyone’s gonna be so jealous.”

Ten squealed excitedly. “How did you meet?”

“We 're in the same botany class and…fuck, I really need to be her partner for the project.”

“Wait, botany class with Professor Lawson?”

“Yeah, why?” 

“I know the guy,” Ten said with a smirk. “I’ll have a word with him. I’m sure he won’t mind helping you out.”

“Oh, thank god. Thank you so much,” Yangyang murmured weakly.

“Tell me more about her! What’s she like?”

“Well, we established that she's the hottest woman on Earth. She also has beautiful eyes that look so cute when annoyed.”

“You annoyed her already?”

“And her voice is so addictive,” Yangyang continued, ignoring the question. “And she has this super delicious scent…” he groaned, not noticing that his hand was going down to his trousers.

“Yangyang, do that in your room! Have some shame!” Ten exclaimed, forcing him to stand up and pushing him to the stairs. “Go upstairs and I’ll bring suppressants in a minute.”

Surprisingly, Yangyang was obedient this time, forcing himself to make an effort to go to his room. He usually took suppressants before he could even experience a pre-rut, so he didn’t remember the last time he felt this tired and needy. He took the pills Ten gave him and took off his pants, knowing very well that no pill would be too effective now that he had met you and that he had to take care of himself the old-fashioned way.

Honestly? He was happy to do it if he got to think about you to cum.

“Hhmmm…” he bit his lip and arched his back when his fingers—the same ones that had touched your skin earlier— finally circled his cock.

He remembered how soft your hand was. How would it feel if it was your hand touching him instead of his?

He chuckled. Your hand probably wouldn’t be able to grasp all of him. You would have to use both.

“Yeah, Y/N,” he whispered, closing his eyes and imagining he had you there with him. “It’s okay, just g-go slow, hm?”

In his vision, you stubbornly tried to grab him more firmly and jerk him faster. In reality, he tugged at his cock until reaching the desired speed. “Ooohh, you like it that much? Mhmm? You can have it, Y/N, g-go ahead…”

He ran his thumb over the tip a few times, imagining it was your pretty tongue teasing him. “Oooooh yes, baby, that’s my girl, right there…”

He quickened the pace, occasionally teasing the tip again. He was so close already and he had barely touched himself.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he whispered letting out a breathy laugh, thrusting into his fist. “Fuuuck I’m so lucky.”

Would you let him cum on your face? Would you close your eyes or keep them open and meet his gaze?

“Y/N–Oh!” His eyes screwed shut and he tossed his head back. His mouth opened in a silent scream and his toes curled when his orgasm hit and cum covered his fist and lower belly…and it kept coming out. “Ooooh, what the f-fuck, whatthefuck, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N…” he babbled out incoherently, tossing at the neverending pleasure. 

When he finally stopped coming, he opened his eyes slowly and looked at the ceiling in astonishment.

What the fuck was that? Was every orgasm going to feel like this from now on? What would happen when he finally got to do it with you?

He couldn’t wait to figure it out.

You, on the other hand, thought you wouldn’t see Yangyang again, assuming he had dropped the class. So you were more than surprised when he showed up next week, standing in front of you and clearing his throat to catch your attention.

“Oh, it’s you,” you sighed. 

“We’re together,” he mumbled, showing you a piece of paper with your name on it.

Great. Not only was there a lunatic in your class, but you were stuck with him as a partner for a project.

“Why didn’t you drop the class?” you asked honestly. “You said you didn’t like plants.”

“I don’t hate plants,” he shrugged, sitting next to you. “They just die on me.”

You glared at him in disbelief. “You do know your grade depends on your ability to keep plants alive, don’t you?”

“Are you good with plants?” he asked back.

“Yes,” you hissed. “Unlike you, I want to be in this class.”

“Then you can teach me,” he shrugged.

“Or better yet,” you offered. “I’ll do everything and write your name on the report. Just don’t get on my way.”

“Mr. Lawson!” Yangyang called for the professor, raising his hand. “Y/N doesn’t want to follow the rules–”

“He’s kidding!” you yelled quickly, grabbing Yangyang’s arm and hitting his back.

He groaned and then laughed like he enjoyed this type of attention coming from you.

“Yangyang, I won’t risk my grade for you.”

He smirked lazily. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

He shrugged.”Yeah, we just have to learn to work together.”

“I don’t know if you can’t tell, but I already dislike you,” you said.

He shrugged again. “I kinda like you though.”

You blushed immediately, not expecting such words to come out of his mouth.

“J-just promise me you’ll carry your weight and maybe we can try to be friends or something.”

“Friends,” he savored the word. “Sounds good.”

You opened your book, ready to end the conversation there and concentrate on the class when you remembered something.

“Why did you run off like that? That time when we shook hands?” you asked, turning to look at him and freezing in place when his eyes met yours. They looked hungry, and predatory, unlike before. How did he keep changing his aura like that?

“Something urgent came up,” he said, still holding you captive with his gaze.

“What was a bad idea?” you asked.

“Hmm?”

“You said ‘bad idea’ before you ran away.”

His eyes hardened and then he looked at your lips, but he didn’t reply. 

The warm sensation came back, but this time traveled down your chest to your stomach and then went even lower.

You crossed your legs quickly and saw him smirk. Could he know what you were feeling?

“What was a bad idea?” you repeated, a little unsure you wanted to know the answer this time, but right then the professor started talking and you quickly looked to the front, focusing on the class.

“Shaking your hand,” Yangyang’s voice whispered, right next to your ear, giving you goosebumps and making you sit up straight, tense.

“Why was shaking my hand a bad idea?” you asked nervously, still not daring to look at him.

“Mine was sweaty,” he said unexpectedly, trying not to laugh when you turned to look at him with an annoyed expression. God he was going to have so much fun with you. “It’s really embarrassing.”

“Your hand wasn’t sweaty,” you countered.

“You didn’t feel it because I took it back fast enough. I’m a very considerate guy as you can see.”

“I think you’re just annoying,” you said, deciding he was not worth your attention and concentrating on the class again.

“Deal with it. I’m your new friend,” he said casually, opening his book.

“I never said–”

“No takebacks.”

“But I–” “Shh, bestie. I’m trying to pay attention to the class,” he nagged you. “I’m not risking my grade for you, Y/N.”

You scoffed, irritated. You assumed he would be a handful, but as time went by you discovered that he wasn’t as terrible as you thought. He was surprisingly diligent; taking detailed notes, asking relevant questions (some of which you wished you had thought of yourself), and even correcting you when you made a mistake (much to your disdain). 

You had no idea how he managed to pay attention when he was looking at you the entire time. At first, you thought you were imagining things, but he made it very obvious, sometimes not even bothering to look away when you caught him staring. He often stared at your neck and chest, biting his lip so hard you thought he would draw blood, other times he would stare at your crossed legs as if he knew that you were fighting your arousal due to his intense gaze, but most of the time he stared at your face, clenching his fist like he was fighting the urge to caress your cheeks. 

You got the most piercing glares when you wore something a bit more revealing. 

It was a regular summer day when you decided to wear the prettiest floral dress you owned. The fabric was light and fresh, not too tight but it hugged your curves nicely. Most importantly, you felt both pretty and comfortable.

“You’re here?” Yangyang asked casually without looking up from his phone as you placed your bag next to your seat. 

You had sat next to each other for at least a couple of months now, and you were working on the final project together which meant you also met often outside of the class. Sometimes you went for food or ice cream after hours of writing a report and you genuinely had a good time whenever you hung out. You could confidently say that you were somewhat friends by now. 

You hummed and sat down. “How was your weekend?”

“Eh, nothing interesting,” he shrugged, scrolling down. “Have you seen this video–” he finally looked up to show you something on his phone but he stopped mid-sentence when he saw you.

“What video?” you asked.

“What are you wearing?” he asked back.

“A dress?” 

“Why?”

You roll your eyes. “I never question your fashion choices, do I? Plus, I think it’s pretty,” you said, grabbing the hem to pull it down and cover your legs a bit more since the dress had rolled up when you sat down. “What’s wrong with it?”

No sound came out of his lips but he mouthed a very clear ‘fuck’, as he tried to decide if he should focus on your legs or your clavicle.

You blushed and muttered a ‘whatever’, deciding to ignore him for the rest of the class for your own sanity. The last thing you needed was him checking you out and feeding your fantasies that you had unwillingly conjured along with developing a huge inconvenient crush on him. 

You had tried to deny your feelings for weeks, but after the first month, you couldn’t help thinking of him when you pleasured yourself, wondering what he would feel like inside of you. Finding out he was a werewolf only made you even hornier, having heard about how intense sex with one could be. 

You also wondered what he would sound like, if he would go slow like the tease he is or fast and rough to hear you scream.

 Maybe the latter because he seemed to like eliciting sounds from you. You could tell by how often he annoyed you, scared you, and even tickled you until he got some type of vocal reaction from you. 

He would often call you cute when any of those scenarios happened and then his hands would linger a little too long before you slapped his arm and he laughed.

Your crush had intensified by the time you had your midterms and you got an A+ for the report you wrote together. He gave you a high five before impulsively pulling you in for a hug.

And god, he was so warm, and his chest was firmer than you thought and his hands felt just perfect on your waist.

“You did amazing,” he purred right next to your ear, causing you to let out an unexpected whimper.

You both tensed at the sound. You had never been more embarrassed but then you felt his grip tighten and his heartbeat accelerating on his chest pressed against yours.

“Oh, fuck me…” he groaned, nosing your neck.

Your eyes rolled back and you wanted to tell him that you would gladly do so until you heard someone clearing their throat. 

Professor Lawson was not enjoying the show.

You quickly pulled away from each other and never spoke about it again. But Yangyang was always staring, sitting too close, grazing…

Right now, his shorts allowed for his bare legs to gently rub yours and it was making you imagine things that weren’t appropriate for the place and time. The fact that his breathing sounded slightly agitated didn’t help and neither did having him manspreading to feel your touch better so shamelessly.

You gulped before deciding to be bold for once and spread your legs slightly too, pressing your thigh closer to his. 

He inhaled sharply.

He decided to be bold too by slowly dragging one of his hands under the table and gently patting your outer thigh with his fingertips.

You gasped and he retrieved his hand immediately, but you grabbed his wrist, feeling his quickened pulse where your fingers were.

This was a bad idea and you knew it. You were in public, in the middle of class, yet you found yourself shakily placing his hand where it was again not daring to look at him but hoping he would get the hint.

He kept his eyes on the whiteboard, but his fingers drew small patterns on your skin, making you wetter than before. 

You gathered some more courage to place your hand on his thigh, wanting to do the same for him, but as soon as you made contact with the hot skin exposed by his shorts he moaned loud enough for the people on the desks around you to look at you. 

You quickly took your hand away and he did the same. You still didn’t make eye contact and you knew this would be another one of the so many not-so-friendly moments you shared that would never be spoken about again.

Once the class was over, and even though you were mortified, you cleared your throat to speak.

“Uh, we need to talk about–”

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to!” he quickly said with wide eyes, fearing a rejection before he even had the chance to confess.

“No, we absolutely have to–”

“How about you take your time to think about it–”

“Yangyang,” you deadpanned. “It’s about the project.”

“Oh,” he let out a relieved sigh. “What about it?”

“Remember I told you I’m going to visit my family for two weeks?”

“Yeah, so?”

“I can’t take our plant with me.”

“Oh…OH?” Yangyang’s eyes widened when he realized what that meant. While he was quite good at the theoretical part, he was still terrified of killing the plant so you were the one to take care of it all the time. If you were away then that meant he had no choice but to take the plant with him.

“You’ll be okay, right?”

“Probably.”

“Probably?”

“I’m terrified,” he admitted.

“It’s only for two weeks,” you reminded him. “You are more than capable of taking care of our baby during that time.”

He blushed hard when you called the plant ‘our baby’ and smiled like an idiot thinking of this being the first of many things you would share. And then he nodded, telling himself that it would be fine as he walked with you to your dorm to receive the project you both had worked on so hard for months.

The Scarlet Sugar Plum was a beautiful plant and, if properly nourished, its leaves could be used as an ingredient to make a Love Potion, which Yangyang was sure was a sign that you were meant to be.

He placed the pot near the window in his room, smiling dreamily. 

Our baby…

But a week later he was glaring at said plant with a sour expression. He didn’t get it. He gave it plenty of sunlight and water so why did it look so weak and dry? The before colorful leaves were turning brown and some of them had fallen, and he feared it soon would be nothing but a bent stem.

You were going to kill him.

Worse: you were going to be disappointed in him.

You were going to hate him and never want to talk to him again and he wouldn’t get to properly confess and he would die alone without his mate and–

Fuck…There had to be something he could do…

Maybe he could buy a new plant? 

No, you would notice immediately that it wasn’t the same one.

Then…he had heard some classmates talk about this potion that would make a plant grow bigger and stronger. The problem was that it wasn’t legal because the side effects could vary and end up making a plant poisonous. 

Was he willing to break the law so you wouldn’t hate him?

…Yes.

You suspected nothing when you texted him asking for a picture of the plant and saw that it looked healthy and strong, even with an extra flower.

“Told you you could do it!” you exclaimed happily when he called you later to catch up. 

“Just hurry up and come get your baby,”  he complained.

“Our baby,” you corrected him. “She’s your project too.”

“I was talking about me,” he replied and you could hear the teasing in his voice. “I’m your baby.”

“You behave like one,” you laughed.

 “No but seriously, hurry up. She misses you.”

“She misses me or you miss me?” you teased.

“I miss you,” he said with no hesitation. 

You blushed, not knowing what to answer for a second and then you paid attention to his breathing. It sounded agitated.

“Are you okay?” you asked. “You sound a little out of breath.”

“Yeah,” he groaned. “It’s just really fucking hot today.”

“Turn the AC on. Don’t be stingy!” you joked as a way to distract yourself from how hot his little groans sounded.

“It’s on!” he complained. “Maybe the problem is me. Am I in rut? Why am I in rut?! it’s not time yet…” he rambled on.

You bit your lip. Yeah, there were times when he had no filter around you, but this was the first time he spoke so openly about his rut.

“Oh, when is it supposed t-to happen, then?” you asked casually, hoping he wouldn’t notice your stutter.

“At least in one more month,” he breathed out. “Fuck, being a werewolf sucks sometimes…”

“It’s kinda cool,” you admitted.

“What’s cool about it?”

“Well, you have a better sense of smell, don’t you?”

“That’s both a blessing and a curse,” he chuckled weakly.

“Why’s that? Because of odors?”

“Because some people smell too fucking good,” he sighed. “Make it hard to control myself.” “O-oh,” you gulped. “Like who?”

“I think you know who, bestie,” he purred, making you shiver.

What was going on?

Was he this direct because of his rut?

You breathed shakily. “W-well, you are also faster and stronger than us humans. That’s pretty cool.”

“Hmm, yeah it can be cool,” he admitted. “I could catch you easily if you tried to run away…”

You gasped and he hummed. You heard some movement too.

“W-why would I run away?” you laughed nervously, feeling your panties sticking to your pussy.

“Wouldn’t you?”

“I wouldn’t…” you breathed out.

He moaned loudly and you heard the sound of a zipper.

“Yangyang,” you rubbed your thighs together needily. “I think I should hang up.”

“No, fuck!” he groaned. “S-stay a little longer, hm? Talk to me.”

“A-about what?”

“Anything,” he breathed out and for a second you could hear a wet sound that made it very obvious he was touching himself. “W-what else is c-cool about werewolves?”

“You have a g-great sense of t-taste,” you said, very consciously sliding your hand into your shorts to feel your wetness over your panties.

Oh god. Were you really doing this?

“Yeah, f-fuck,” he moaned and the fapping sound became faster. “Taste so fucking good,” he sighed dreamily. 

“What tastes good?” you asked, grazing over your clit.

“You–shit!”

“You d-don’t know that…”

“I’m sure,” he replied between moans. “Someone w-who smells so delicious has t-to taste good…”

“Fuck…” you breathed out, rubbing your clit slowly.

“Wanna know what else is cool?” he panted. “Our body temperature is higher…haaa… so m-my tongue is hot as fuck–Mmm…Wanna feel it, bestie?”

Your eyes rolled back and you moaned shamelessly.

“Oooh, yes t-that’s it, imagine it, baby,” he urged you, making you clench at the nickname. “Feel so fucking good, yeah?”

“So g-good,” you panted, rubbing faster and hearing him moaning your name.

“Have you ever seen a knot?” he asked between groans. He couldn’t see you shaking your head but he continued, assuming your answer was no. “N-nothing could make you feel as f-full, ah…filling you up j-just right–fuck…Would ruin you for any other man…”

“Please…” you begged, almost tasting your climax.

“Fuck you so good,” he spoke with slurred words. “Bet y-you’d take it all, yeah?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you muttered, arching your back.

“Ah, haa…Y/N you’re d-doing amazing– oh god…”

“Yangyang!”

“FUCK! Yes, s-say my name j-just like that,” he whines, very obviously fucking his fist and panting desperately as he heard you murmur his name again and again like a mantra. “Oooh fuck, take my knot–”

You didn’t even try to hide the embarrassing moan that came out of your mouth when you had the most powerful orgasm of your life.

While talking to a friend on the phone.

And moaning his name.

You were coming down from your high when you heard him laugh breathlessly.

“So fucking good…” he murmured.

Oh god, you had had phone sex with Yangyang.

“Uh, so, I hope your rut goes well,” you said awkwardly.

“It would if you were here,” he said, still daydreaming.

“Haha,” you laughed nervously. “You’ll find someone to bang next time!”

“Huh?”

“I heard Cassie has the hots for you!”

“B-but…just now…we–”

“Hey, happy to help, bestie!” you interrupted him. “But next time you’ll do that with someone you like.”

He groaned. “Y/N, what–”

“Gotta go! Take care of our project!” you faked a cheerful tone and hung up, turning your phone off and throwing it away nervously to then proceed to scream into your pillow.

Now he knew for sure.

He knew you had a crush on him.

Fuck, you were so embarrassed. He was horny because of his rut, but you had no excuse to moan his name like that. You probably sounded pathetic begging for him.

Maybe he wouldn’t care? Yeah, maybe he was thankful that you helped him out and you would continue being friends. All you had to do was not address it, just like all the other moments of tension you kept sharing and then pretending that never happened.

It would be fine.

Everything was fine.

You kept repeating that to yourself to calm your nerves when you stood in front of Yangyang’s house a few days later. 

It was an old-fashioned house but it was huge, which made sense considering he told you he lived with his pack. 

“I’ll get it!” you heard Yangyang’s voice scream from the other side of the door after you rang the bell. “Why are y’all just standing here? Go away!”

There was a moment of silence. And then you thought you heard him say ‘Fine, but act normal.’

The door swung open and Yangyang welcomed you with his characteristic smile.

“Hey!” he greeted, giving you a friendly hug.

You sighed, relieved. Nothing had changed. He wasn’t awkward around you.

“Hey, you!” you smiled until you noticed at least a dozen eyes on you. A group of men, who you assumed were his packmates, were looking at you with big smiles on their faces.

“Oh, hello!” you said nervously.

They replied cheerfully. Too cheerfully. And Yangyang quickly grabbed your arm and pulled you up the stairs with him.

“Ignore them,” he told you once you entered his room and he closed the door. “They don’t know how to act around girls.”

You snorted. “Oh, so I’m a girl to you now?”

He frowned. “You’ve always been?”

“We’re friends,” you reminded him, deciding to do damage control just in case. “We’re basically bros. You don’t see me as a girl and I don’t see you as a boy.”

He gave you an unreadable look but before he could answer you reached for the plant.

“Oh my god! She grew so much!”

“Yeah…” Yangyang agreed.

“You did a great job! You didn’t need to be afraid, see?”

He bit his lip nervously.

“Normally they don’t grow more than one flower a month, you know?” you babbled out. 

“U-huh…”

“And the leaves normally wouldn’t be this shade of green until winter!”

“Uh…yep…”

“And the scent is normally not this sugary…” your voice became a murmur.

You turned to look at him and he looked away.

“Did you do anything special?” you asked.

He shrugged. “I followed the instructions.”

You looked at the plant, taking a deep inhale at its scent, and then looked back at him. “Yangyang.”

“It’s healthy, isn’t it?” he asked defensively.

“But it isn’t normal.”

“Guess I discovered my natural talent.”

“Yangyang,” you warned him. The air was starting to feel hot and it was irritating you.

“Maybe I’m not as hopeless as you think.”

“I never said you were hopeless.”

“But you imply it!” he brushed his hair with his fingers, frustrated. He was flushed and beads of sweat were forming on his forehead.

“I didn’t–,” you groaned. “I just want to make sure!” you said, feeling slightly suffocated by the sweet scent of the plant.

“I…fuck! I’m sorry, okay? I fucked up!” he admitted, sitting on the bed.

“What did you do?” you asked, fanning yourself with your palm.

“I cheated,” he said defeatedly.

“How?”

“I used Gloom Dust Potion.”

“What?! Where did you get that?”

“The black market, of course,” he grumbled.

“How could you be so careless!” you yelled.

“But I wasn’t! That’s what makes this so frustrating,” he yelled back. “I measured the water, I made sure the room had the right temperature I even set alarms to check on her in the middle of the fucking night! I did everything and it still whithered and I don’t know why I’m such a useless man but I really tried my best because I wanted to give you an A+ and I wanted you to be proud of me and now you hate me–”

“Woah, hold on! I don’t hate you!” you said quickly.

He covered his face with his palms and you kneeled in front of him. “Hey, Yangyang, look at me,” you told him. 

He didn’t reply. 

“Please?” you asked softly.

Hesitantly he uncovered his face and gave you a shameful and sad look. He really had tried his best and he felt terrible about it not working out.

“I don’t hate you,” you repeated.

“Are you sure?” he asked with a small voice.

“Very sure,” you said, cupping his face with your palm.

He let out a soft moan, leaning into your touch.

That’s when you noticed that he was burning up.

“Yangyang, are you okay?” you asked.

“Sorry about the project,” he mumbled, nosing your palm.

“Forget about it. I think you have a fever,” you said, about to retreat your hand and go call for help but he grabbed your wrist and brought you closer again.

“I’m so sorry,” he slurred.

“It’s fine,” you said.

“You’re not mad?”

“I’m not, okay?”

“You’re so good to me…” he whispered.

You frowned. “Yangyang, I’ll go get one of your pack brothers.”

“Did you use this hand?” his question caught you off-guard.

“What?”

“When you touched yourself,” he clarified, scenting your wrist. “That night on the phone.”

You blushed furiously.

“W-what?” you repeated dumbly.

He brought your fingers to his mouth and licked them. It was true that his tongue was hotter than that of a human.

“Yeah, I bet it was this one–fuck…” he moaned.

Your knees wobbled. 

“Yangyang,” you gasped. “Let go. You have a fever.”

“But your skin is hot too,” he mumbled before sucking your index and middle finger into his mouth.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, feeling your head spinning. He was right. You felt incredibly hot and not only that. Your pussy was throbbing and your nipples had hardened under your shirt way before Yangyang had started acting weird.

You were too irritated to notice before but both you and Yangyang got turned on incredibly fast as soon as you entered the room. 

“W-wait oh, no,” you spoke again, pulling away from him and hearing him whine. “I know what’s happening,” you said, making your way to the plant.

Yangyang followed your every move with his eyes like he was hypnotized.

You got closer to one of the flowers and inhaled deeply, only to feel more sticky wetness accumulate between your legs. 

You groaned.

“Yangyang, we need to get out of this room,” you said, going back to him and trying to make him stand up.

“Why?” he asked, not budging.

“The potion intensifies the properties of plants. Ours is used to emulate the feeling of a crush…the feeling of liking someone, right?”

“Right,” he said, trying to process your words.

“Because of the potion, instead of just a crush, you get something bigger. Lust. Desire,” you deduced. 

His eyes widened. “I turned our plant into a fucking aphrodisiac!? So that’s why I’ve been so horny this past week?”

“It’s not your fault,” you say quickly, pulling his arm. “You didn’t know this would happen.”

“Wait,” he said, standing up and towering over you. “Does it mean you’re turned on too?”

You blushed even harder if it was possible. “Yeah, well, that’s what aphrodisiacs do…”

He closed his eyes and inhaled. “Fuck…you’re right. I can smell it…”

You cleared your throat awkwardly. “Yeah, well…Anyways, let’s get out of here.”

“No way, they will see my hard-on and I’m never going to live it down!” he groaned.

You fought your eyes from looking down. “That’s not important right now!”

“And they’ll smell you,” he added, making you halt. “My entire pack will know you came out of my room aroused.”

You muttered a hushed curse and sat down on his bed.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated timidly, sitting beside you.

“Stop apologizing,” you sighed. “We can still pass the class with what we have done so far.”

He didn’t say anything, staring at his lap.

“Hey,” you said, reaching for his hand. “I promise. I’m not mad. We’re still friends, okay?”

He gave you a weak smile and his thumb caressed your hand. 

“Now we only need to think of a way to get out of here without being seen,” you said, looking at the window.

“You’re not jumping out the window,” he deadpanned. “This is the third floor.”

You sighed, flopping on the bed with him following, lying down next to you.

 “The other option is going out when we’re not turned on anymore,” you said.

His hand squeezed yours involuntarily. 

“Oh,” he said. “Maybe it will wear off after…ya know…”

It took you a few seconds to understand what he was proposing.

“You’re suggesting we get off while the other is in the room?” you turned to look at him.

“I w-won’t look,” he promised.

You licked your lips.

“I won’t look either…”

His eyes widened and his ears turned red. 

“R-really? Are we gonna….oh my god…” he squirmed a little as he felt his member twitch.

“I mean…it wouldn’t be t-that different from that time…on the phone…” you whispered.

He groaned.

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t have a better idea,” you breathed out.

You stared into each other's eyes for a few seconds.

“Okay,” he whispered, letting go of your hand. “I’ll turn around,” he informed you, turning to his side with his back towards you.

You took a deep breath in and did the same.

You could feel each other's heartbeats when you were back to back.

“Ready?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah…”

You moved first, slowly sliding your hand into your pants. Your breath caught in your throat when you touched your pulsating clit and then you let out a shaky breath when your index teased it.

You heard him sigh and felt him move slightly. He tried to be quiet when his hand touched his dick, but when he heard the wet sounds of your hand caressing your folds he moaned.

You thrust a finger inside and a whimper escaped you. Yangyang groaned and you heard him whisper what sounded like ‘yes…’

He wasn’t being shy and you were able to hear and feel exactly what he was doing even without looking. 

Another finger entered you and you got lost in your fantasy, imagining it was him doing this to you as you heard his groans.

“Faster,” you accidentally said out loud and were about to apologize, mortified, but you felt him moving his hand faster as he moaned your name.

And you ended up matching his rhythm. 

You weren’t sure if it made a difference if you were looking or not. You were touching yourselves in the same room, back to back, at the same speed and very obviously thinking about each other.

“Are you close?” his question was directed to you, not caring about pretending anymore. “Y/N,” he called your name clearly when you didn’t reply. “Please tell me you’re close…”

“Y-yeah…” you replied shyly and he inhaled sharply.

“Touch your clit,” he instructed after a broken moan. “I’m touching my tip too.”

You whined, using your other hand to draw circles on your clit and your orgasm washed over you. You came with a sob and your body tensed while he murmured profanities and grunted behind you.

“Fuck…” you murmured when you were able to see straight again, still feeling your pussy clenching.

“Fuck…” he agreed, trembling slightly.

“I think it didn’t work…” you admitted.

“Yeah,” he agreed again, and you could feel that he was still palming himself. “I’m still hard as fuck…”

“What do we do?” you whined, tiredly.

“Let’s keep going,” he proposed with no hesitation, still moving his hand behind you. “One more should do…”

“Or…” you trailed off.

“Or?”

“We could…touch each other?” you spoke barely above a whisper but he heard you loud and clear because he turned around and sat up quickly.

“What?!” he asked.

You groaned, embarrassed. “Forget it, it was dumb…”

“No, no, it’s not dumb,” he cooed, patting your back.

You shook your head.

“Y/N, please,” he sighed. “I heard you the first time, but I want to be sure I got it right. You want to touch me?”

You still refused to reply or look at him.

“Because…I would like to touch you…” he confessed quietly. “I would like that a lot…”

Slowly you sat up and made eye contact with him. Your cheeks were burning just like the rest of your body, due to arousal and embarrassment. 

“Really?” you asked equally quietly.

“Really,” he said. “So what’s the plan?”

You took a deep breath in before speaking again.

“We can help each other,” you bargained, trying not to lose focus as you watched a drop of sweat travel down his neck. “We’re friends, after all. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

Yangyang gulped.

“Yeah, we’re just friends,” he spoke shakily. “Just two friends affected by a dumb plant.”

“Exactly,” you nodded, breathing heavily. “It’s normal to be horny. It’s the plant. It’s not because we like each other.”

“Totally. It’s not like I imprinted on you when we first met or something,” he mumbled, fixated on the way your lips moved.

“…What?”

“What?”

“Did you just say you imprinted on me?” you frowned.

He averted his gaze, clearing his throat. “I said it’s not like I did,” he replied. “Meaning I didn’t.”

“Okay,” you conceded, sitting closer, “then it should be fine, right?”

“I think it would be more than fine,” he assured you, though he sounded strained, not fine at all. He closed his eyes when he felt your fingertips on his jaw.

 “What do you wanna do?”

“Is there anything you’re not comfortable with?” you asked.

 “Anything you wanna do’s okay,” he said, locking eyes with you.

You lowered your hand so it was now on his neck. “Anything?” you purred, applying only a little bit of pressure and watching in awe how he rolled his eyes and groaned.

“A-anything…” he repeated.

“But what do you want to do?” you asked, allowing your hand to go lower, using your nails to tease him over the material of his shirt sticking to his chest.

“Y/N…”

“Is there nothing you wanna do to me?” you teased, lifting his shirt a little and placing your palm on his lower belly. You were also looking for reassurance. You would feel like a loser if you were thirsting over your friend when he hadn’t fantasized about you once.

“I–I don’t know,” he lied. If only you knew all the things he wanted to do to you.

“Hm…I guess you don’t want this enough,” you sighed, starting to withdraw your hand but he quickly grabbed it and placed it right on his crotch. “Y-yangyang?!”

Instead of replying, he forced your hand on him harder with a strangled moan and you felt something hard twitching right against your palm before even more wetness spread on the fabric of his sweatpants.

“Oh, my god, Yangyang…” you whispered in disbelief, gently pulling your hand away to inspect the sticky substance on it. “Just like that?”

He didn’t even try to deny it. “I…uh…I’ve been exposed to the plant for too long, I guess…Sorry…”

“Are you feeling better–Oh!” you gasped when he suddenly pulled you on top of him.

“Are you kidding me?” he groaned, hiding his face in the crook of your neck while hugging your waist. “I just came in my pants, feeling the warmth of your hand while looking at you– I’ve never been hornier!”

How he admitted to it so openly made you blush. “Should we do more, then?”

You felt him nod. And before you could ask what was next, the muscle of his thigh flexed under you, causing you to let out a surprised gasp. He tensed at the sound, holding his breath and waiting patiently for your next move. Only when you moved your hips and he heard you moan weakly did he dare to exhale.

“Y/N, are you–? Oh god, oh god…” he breathed out against the sensitive skin of your neck, in utter disbelief because there was no way the woman of his dreams was riding his thigh. 

“Is this okay?” you asked nervously, slowing your hips down just in case you were doing something he wasn’t comfortable with, but he whined, holding your hips and guiding them to move again.

“It’s so okay,” he quickly assured you. “Use my thigh all you want…”

“J-just once, okay?” you told him, but you were actually trying to convince yourself.

He didn’t reply, too busy bouncing you on his leg and getting lost in your little sounds.

“Hmm?” he asked absentmindedly, placing a wet kiss on your collarbone.

“I s-said this is– Yangyang!” you grabbed onto his shoulders for support and arched your back, feeling like you were about to explode.

“Yeah?” he breathed out, nibbling on your earlobe.

“I’m cumming–” you barely managed to whisper.

“Do it,” he urged you, helping you move faster, “do it, do it, c’mon, it’s gonna feel really good, baby, c’mon–,” he stopped mid-sentence and his eyes widened when he finally witnessed the beauty of having you cum right in front of his eyes. He had imagined it plenty of times, but he could never picture it right; he had no idea your voice could get this high-pitched, that your pupils would dilate this much, that you would feel this hot and wet on top of him…God, all his fantasies were wrong, so wrong, they could never do you justice. He had to memorize every single detail and never get off to anything else.

You were still coming down from your high when you felt a pair of warm lips on yours, soft and gentle. Yangyang was kissing you. Your platonic friend who stole your fries and called you a bro.

With a sudden yelp, you pushed yourself off him, standing up.

“What?!” he asked.“What’s wrong?”

“You kissed me!”

“...Yeah, and?”

“You can’t do that!” you exclaimed.

“You said we should help each other out!” he reminded you.

“Yes, but as friends,” you explained like it was obvious. “Kissing is too…intimate for friends.”

Yangyang stared at you with wide incredulous eyes. “Kissing is too intimate but humping my leg isn’t?”

“Yangyang, you don’t just kiss anyone!”

“You don’t fuck yourself on just anyone’s thigh either!”

“Right, but–,” you sighed and decided to come out clean. “I worry that if I kiss you I could end up feeling a bit confused.”

He looked up at you and listened attentively. “Confused how?”

“Like,” you tried to organize your thoughts while your body was burning up and a hot guy with a raging boner in front of you. “What if I like it?”

He stared at you, waiting for an explanation of how that would be a problem, scoffing when you didn’t elaborate. “God forbid you have a good time in a consensual sexual experience,” he mocked. 

“I mean, what if I like it too much?” you clarified.

“What does that even mean?” he groaned, accommodating his hard-on and trying to understand the words coming from your mouth.

You were starting to get frustrated too. How could you explain properly that you were scared of falling even more for him while you were clenching at the view?

“Just no kissing, okay?” 

He frowned and looked at your lips, mulling it over. He didn’t understand, nor did he like it, but he agreed regardless. “Whatever you’re comfortable with,” he finally said. “Anything else is off limits?”

“Do you have a condom?”

He shook his head.

“Then we should probably avoid penetration,” you said. “I’m not on the pill or anything like that so…”

“Right,” he gulped. “Let’s be careful. Anything else?”

You tried hard to think of more things, but your brain was foggy and everything was too hot, too suffocating.

Yangyang was feeling it too and he didn’t have the patience to wait for your entire list of forbidden things. “Y/N, my dick hurts,” he spoke with difficulty, pressing his palm on his crotch to relieve the discomfort. “Just tell me!”

You gulped and pressed your thighs together. “I uh…can’t come up with anything right n-now…thinking is h-hard…”

“Y/N, please,” he whimpered between elaborate breaths.

“How about you name something and I tell you if it’s okay or not?” you proposed. It should be easier this way.

“Can I fuck your tits?” he asked immediately.

You gasped and felt yourself get wetter at the suggestion. Yes, you told him to say what he wanted, and you knew he was blunt, but he had never been this blunt.

“What? Too intimate for you?” he asked half-seriously, half-mockingly.

“N-no, it’s…it’s fine,” you replied. “But how do we do it?” you asked nervously.

“Lie down,” he instructed with no hesitation, like he had thought about this too many times. 

You complied and got back on the bed, nervously lying down and waiting to see what he would do next. 

He slowly climbed on top of you and you felt your heart beat so hard and fast you worried it would break through your ribcage and escape your body. Yangyang was on top of you. Sweating, desperate for you, and his eyes looked at you with something you could have easily confused with love in a different situation. 

With shaky hands he grabbed the hem of your shirt and started pushing it up, pausing when his fingertips touched the lace of your bra. He held his breath and his eyes met yours silently asking ‘Is this okay?’ and continuing when you bit your lip and nodded.

He barely grazed over your covered breasts when he finished wrinkling the fabric of your shirt near your neck and his dick twitched excitedly and the view of your hardened nipples under the thin material of your bralette.

“Y/N…” he whispered just to savor your name, humping your stomach in an almost unperceivable way. “Can I?”

“Just do it,” you whined, maybe wanting this more than him.

He nervously placed his hands on top of your breasts and let out a needy moan when he finally felt your softness and warmth in his palms. “M-maybe I’ll cum like this,” he commented. And he was totally serious because he was leaking again.

“No!” you said too quickly. “You said you’d fuck them,” you whined, arching your back and pushing your tits further into his touch, making him squeeze harder.

“Yeah? Want that?” he asked breathily, delighted at how quickly you nodded. “Shit, okay, okay…” he said, letting go of your chest and standing up to step out of his pants and boxers.

You used the opportunity to quickly take off your shirt and bra, too eager to be used and very pleased to see him freeze when he looked back at you and saw you half undressed. His jaw hung open and he just couldn’t look away. After all this time stealing glances at your clavicle and fighting his boner every time you hugged and he felt your boobs against his chest, you were willingly showing them to him. And he was about to fuck them.

“F-fuck…” he breathed out, straddling your chest. “Can I really?”

“Yangyang,” you whined, hitting his arm. “How many times do I have to say it?”

“One more?” he asked hopefully.

You rolled your eyes, but you were getting impatient enough to humor him. “Will you fuck my tits or not, Yangyang?”

He groaned, grabbing his base firmly to stop what wanted to come out. He took a deep breath in and positioned his member between your breasts, letting out a shaky breath when it slid on your skin, trapped between your boobs as you pushed them together.

“Shit, Yangyang…” you gulped when the tip of his cock got a little too close to your chin. “You’re kinda…”

“What?” he half-moans, sliding back and forward slowly.

“Big,” you whisper in disbelief.

He snorts, continuing the slow rhythm of his hips. “Perks of being a werewolf,” he shrugged. “This is average…”

“No way,” you laugh too, gasping when he pinched one of your nipples playfully.

“I swear,” he said half-laughing, half moaning as he accelerated his movements slightly. Everything felt so relaxed and fun with Yangyang. 

So natural.

“Mm…Bet you would fill me up so good…” you commented absentmindedly, actively daydreaming at this point.

He halted, looking at you with wide eyes. “What did you just say?!”

“That you…would fill me up good?” you repeated, blinking up at him.

Oh, so he heard you well. 

“Y/N, are you trying to kill me?” he asked.

“It was just a thought,” you mumbled.

“...Are you thinking about it right now?”

“Can you blame me?” you asked back. Of course you were. How could you think about anything else in this situation?

He groaned, thrusting hard. “Yeah? Do you imagine me inside of you moving like this?”

A soft moan escaped your mouth and you nodded, feeling droplets of hot precum land on your chest.

“Fuuck…it’s a shame we can’t,” he honestly lamented, rutting faster. “I really wanna…”

“Yangyang,” you called his name, your hands leaving the sides of your boobs to reach for his hands. “Yangyang, wait.”

He whined, looking at you in panic. What if you changed your mind and wanted nothing to do with him? He would cry. He would cry all night.

You pushed him lightly, making him stand up next to the bed as you sat up, and oh my god he really was about to cry because it looked like this was the end, until…

“Hold them,” you instructed, placing his hands where yours were before, on each side of your breasts. “Push them together, okay?” 

He nodded. Anything you said as long as you didn’t actually make him stop. He shuddered when one of your hands caressed his hip bone, and then he noticed where your other hand was going…all the way down your stomach.

“Oh god,” he gasped, finally understanding the new position with him standing in front of you and you sitting on his bed, touching yourself. He bent his knees slightly to slide his cock back where he wanted and his eyes rolled back when he pressed your breasts together so tight that his tip released a tiny stream of white liquid. “ I love your tits so much,” he blurted out, resuming his chase for pleasure.

“Is that why you’re always staring at them?” you teased, tapping your clit.

“Y-you knew?” he asked nervously. Fear flooded his eyes, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. Instead, he thrust up faster, moaning uncontrollably.

“You d-don’t even try to hide it,” you reply, moving your fingers faster.

“I didn’t mean to stare,” he whined. “They’re just pretty.”

“Yeah?”

“Y-yeah, so pretty–Oh!” he moaned loudly when he felt something hot and wet touching his tip. You had opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out, meeting his dick when he thrust up. “Y/N, fuck, fuck, are you for real?!”

You licked around the tip messily and that was all the answer he needed, he threw his head back and rutted against your soft skin once, twice–

“Oooh…Nngh….shit…” he moaned, letting go of your breasts and trying to focus his gaze as he looked down and saw you wrapping your lips around his tip, sucking softly. “You’re so fucking hot…”

When the taste of his cum invaded your tastebuds you felt another orgasm hit you and you moaned around him, while your thighs shook.

“I love you.”

You let go of his dick and looked up at him. His eyes met yours as he pushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

“What did you say?” you croaked.

He seemed to snap out of it, blinking and pulling his hand back, taking a step back as well. “Nothing,” he said quickly.

You tilted your head. You heard him say he loved you. It was his voice…

“Are you sure?”

“Yep,” he said, looking away awkwardly.

… Maybe the plant had hallucinatory effects too?

The tingling sensation in your center told you it wasn’t enough, and that immediately made you go back to solving the issue of why you both were half undressed in the first place. “Yangyang, I think I need more…”

“Oh, thank god. I’m still hard,” he sighed, kneeling in front of you and leaning in for a kiss before he quickly stopped himself, remembering the limits you had set. “Sorry, I forgot.”

You licked your lips and looked at his face. He wasn’t as red as before, and you also weren’t feeling as feverish as before. “I think it’s wearing down though. Maybe we just need one more.”

He nodded. “We can just rub one off quickly.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, lowkey hoping he meant you would do it to each other and not to yourselves.

“Or…” he hesitated.

“Yes?” you asked eagerly.

“We could– uh… I could…” he gulped, losing his confidence as his mind was getting clearer. “I dunno how to explain but, can I try something?”

“Sure,” you breathed out.

“Can you take your pants off?” he asked timidly, surprised when you did it immediately.

“Now what?”

His chest rose and fell heavily. He pushed you back until you were on your back on the bed again and he positioned himself between your legs pressing your bodies together and groaning at the wetness of your panties now sticking to his dick too.

“Oh, yes,” you moaned, arching your back and pushing your hips closer to his. “Best idea you’ve ever had–”

“No, I meant–wait,” he interrupted you and stilled your hips. He lifted the hem of your panties right where your inner thigh met your center, just enough for him to slide his dick under them and rest it directly on your wetness.

You gasped, grabbing his arm quickly. “Yangyang!”

“Shh, it’s okay,” he assured you. “I won’t put it in,” he explained, placing one of his hands on top of where his dick was nested, pressing down but leaving enough space for him to thrust his hips. He did it once, showing you how the little trap he had made with your panties and his hand allowed his cock to slide against your clit deliciously. “Like t-this…okay?”

You nodded quickly. “Y-yes, yes–Oh!”

He sighed in relief, sliding against you more earnestly. “Feel good?”

“So good,” you admitted, opening your legs wider for him. “Wish you were inside though–” you blurted out.

His cock twitched and he groaned, snapping his hips harder. “Yeah? I d-don’t think friends do that haa…ah…”

You shook your head, moving your hips to match his rhythm. “They don’t,” you breathed out.

“I don’t think they do anything we’ve done in the past hour either,” he continued.

Again, you shook your head. “B-but it feels so good…”

“Yeah? You like your friend’s cock rubbing your pussy?”

You were about to reply when Yangyang’s harsh thrusts got a little out of control and you felt something poke your entrance just enough to have you clenching around it. You moaned and he quickly pulled away.

“S-sorry, it slipped,” he said anxiously. “W-we can stop–”

“Again,” you begged, trying to pull him back on top of you.

“Y/N, we can’t–”

“Just a little,” you bargained.

He stared at you, dumbfounded, and then shook his head, as if he was trying to wake himself up. “We’re not w-wearing protection and–”

“Just the tip,” you insisted.

He groaned. “Y/N–”

“Please?”

You stared into each other's eyes, knowing damn well that you were not thinking clearly, but not caring at this point. Silently, he grabbed his dick and placed it right where you wanted it, pushing just enough for you to engulf his tip and have both of you moaning wantonly.

“This is a t-terrible idea,” he mumbled, pulling out and pushing back inside, driving himself (and you) crazy. It wasn’t enough, yet it was so good.

“It’s okay–ah!” you tried to excuse your poor choices. “We’re j-just ooh…helping each other out–AH!”

“Uhuh,” he nodded, building up his rhythm and switching between thrusting the tip in and sliding against your clit. 

“Fuuuuck– You’ll be ascended to best f-friend for this, Yangyang–”

“Oh, hell nah. Fuck that.”

Just like that, Yangyang’s lips were on yours again. This time very on purpose.

“Y-yangyang w-wait,” you whined, though you were responding to his kiss too actively, sucking on his bottom lip eagerly. “Told you it’s gonna b-be confusing if we–oh!”

“Drop the act, Y/N,” he said between kisses. “Are you telling me you see me as a friend after all this?”

You whimpered. Was it that obvious?

“We’re not fucking friends,” he panted. “You’re not gonna push me deeper into the friendzone when your pussy is trying to suck me in like this.”

“B-but you said–”

“I lied, okay?” he confessed. “Yeah, I imprinted on you. No, I don’t wanna be just friends. And yeah, I know kissing you will make things even more confusing,” he admitted, rubbing and pressing his cock on your clit harder to have your eyes roll back as he continued kissing you. “I want to confuse the fuck out of you until you think you like me back. I don’t give a fuck if it’s unfair. I like you too much–no. I love you –oooh, fuck, fuck,Y/N!”

Your heart skipped a beat at the confession and a dumb smile formed on your lips and then he moaned and grabbed both your hands, positioning them around the base of his cock and holding them there as something started to grow.

“Oh my god…,” you sat up with difficulty staring in disbelief. “Is that your knot?”

He nodded wordlessly, applying pressure on your hands to signal you to squeeze there, hard. When you did he closed his eyes, his body tensed as he spilled spurts of cum on your center, smearing it all over your folds.

You kept squeezing and massaging the inflated base as he whimpered and thrust his hips up weakly. Finally, cum stopped coming out and he sighed.

You didn’t even have time to worry about your still pending orgasm, too preoccupied with processing his earnest confession, and by the time you reacted, he had already crawled down and taken your panties off.

“Shit,” he mumbled. “I made a mess…” caressing your labia and ironically making the sticky mess worse. “Lemme clean it,” were his last words before he slid his tongue between your folds.

Your hands quickly grabbed onto him, pulling his hair to get him closer to where you needed him the most. “Yes, Yangyang, please–”

“What the fuck you taste amazing,” he mumbled against your center, licking incessantly. 

“That’s your own c-cum,” you laughed, interrupted by a moan when he tried to talk while still attached to your  pussy.

“Mixed with yours,” his words were muffled as he moved his lips and tongue lazily to collect as much wetness as he could. “So good together…”

“Yangyang,” you spoke shakily, pulling harder to get him to your clit which he seemed to be avoiding on purpose. “N-not there, here…”

He kept lazily lapping at your inner labia, ignoring your instructions. “I’m helping you clean, like a good friend.”

“No, no, no, please make me cum,” you begged shamelessly. Your climax was so close you could taste it but he was playing with you.

“I dunno,” he detached himself from you and rested his face on his palms, locking eyes with you. “Making you cum with my mouth is too intimate for me…”

“You fucking–AH!” your complaint was cut short when he flicked your clit with the tip of his tongue just once, making you squirm desperately. “Yangyang, come on!”

“But what if you get confused?” he teased, swirling his tongue around your clit slowly.

“P-please, please, please, oh!” you sobbed when he stopped again.

“You sound confused, Y/N,” he cooed, kissing your inner thigh. “ Wouldn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“Fuck our friendship!” you finally yelled. “I like you. I like you so much. Kiss me, eat me out, fuck me as much as you want, please just do something…Oooh!”

He finally shoved his face between your legs and engulfed your clit with his lips, sucking, allowing you to guide his head however you wanted. He hummed in delight at your confession, determined to make you cum harder than ever to reward your honesty.

“Yes, yes, yes, Yangyang, don’t stop, please, right there ah, ah, ah!” you beg, thrusting your hips up.

You felt him chuckle and it was enough for you to reach your orgasm with a silent scream, arching your back and shaking while he lapped your juices eagerly.

And then you felt a sharp pain in your inner thigh.

“AH! What the fuck, Yangyang!” you exclaimed, sitting up rapidly and catching him with his teeth sunk into your soft skin. 

His eyes widened at your reprimand, and he switched to licking the wound in a comforting manner.

“Why did you bite me?!”

“Got carried away. Sorry…”

Well, at least he didn’t cum inside you, just like you had agreed on. But you hadn’t considered that you two may end up tied up together in other ways.

“Yangyang…does it mean we are–?”

He looked at your panicked eyes and then back at his mark on your body.

“Maybe? I…I don’t know?” he said nervously. “Normally we bite our mates on their neck or somewhere around that area.”

“Then this one probably doesn’t count, right? We aren’t bonded or anything,” you lied to yourself. You knew it made zero sense that a mating bite only worked in a specific area of your body, but you were in no condition to process that you were bonded for life after your not-so-platonic crush ate you out in a house full of werewolves.

He caressed the wounded area lovingly. Something that felt weirdly like electricity traveled from his fingertip which was in contact with your skin all over his body, making him shudder and inhale sharply. He was 89% sure you were bonded, but he ignored his instinct to give you the answer you wanted. 

“I guess it doesn’t work if it’s not on your neck.Maybe.”

“Okay, cool,” you sighed, letting your body finally relax now that the horniness was gone.

“Cool,” he echoed, biting his lip nervously. “So uhh…Wanna grab something to eat?”

“That pizza place down the street?” you suggested tiredly.

“Sure,” he said, standing up and grabbing his pants. He said the next part carefully. “It’s a date.”

You smiled to yourself, trying not to laugh at his nervousness. “Yeah, it’s a date.”

Yangyang could have died a happy man right there and then. He got dressed quickly and helped you sit up and get dressed too. He looked at your exhausted face and he found it endearing, especially with how it lit up after he gave you a soft peck.

You both would deal with the failed botany project later and the fact that everyone in the house probably knew what you did.

…And with the very real bite on your thigh that you both refused to acknowledge for now.

[starboye]

pairing: nick nelson x male reader

summary: you and nick were supposed to be at school but who's to say you cant have a little fun beforehand

warnings: cheating, smut, cursing,

"h- hey charlie" nick stutters while holding back a moan as he answers the phone "nick where are you and y/n at, schools about to start" charlie asks "we had a little problem" nick says "what's happened" charlie asks frantically "yeah nick what happened" you teasingly ask kissing nicks neck "is that y/n" charlie continues asking.

"yeah we just had to make a quick stop and get some food" nick lies, you grab the phone and cheerily greet charlie "finally y/n where are you guys" charlie says "yeah nick was just so hungry so we decided to stop and get some food, nick's loving it so much" you say rolling your hips on nicks dick

the truth is nick mentioned how he hasn't got much action with charlie lately and needed to cum badly so you offered to ride him, but that was an hour ago now nick has came 3 times but still wants more and more of your hole.

"we'll be there in a couple minutes though" you say before hanging up and throwing the phone on the nightstand "so it's either you finish or we miss school" you admit to nick "I don't wanna leave this" nick groans holding onto your hips "what if charlie starts to suspect something" you moan holding onto nicks wrists.

"you know you don't wanna leave either" nick says pulling you into kiss you "maybe" you smile before letting out a moan "I couldn't possibly leave this hole" nick groans "well if you don't want your sweet boyfriend to find out about this you better hurry up and cum" "well isn't that also your best friend" nick retorts "well yes he is so I guess we'd both be in big trouble" you innocently say.

"then I can take how ever long I want" nick snarls "you're talking like you're the one who's in control here" you say tilting your head "aren't I" nicks questions roughly grabbing your wrists and pinning them behind your back "well who's the one on the bottom" you retort breaking out of nicks grips and pinning his hands onto the bed and intwinng your fingers with his.

"you always were a feisty one" nick grins "oh I'm more than just that" you pant as you begin bouncing up and down on nicks cock, squeezing your hole with every drop "fuck" nick let's out with a breathy whimper "you're so warm inside" "is that the only thing" you say raising an eyebrow "god no, it's so tight and deep I need it more" nick desperately mutters.

"wow you're so desperate" you whisper leaning down to nicks ear before stopping all movement and just cock warming him "no no please keep going it feels to good to stop" nick pleads trying to thrust upwards into you "how bad do you want this" you tease "I want it so so bad please" nick begs "I like this look on you, the look of desperateness" you purr lowly as you kiss down nicks jaw.

you resume riding nicks while you smirk over his shaky figure "can I please touch you" nick asks trying to break from your grip "fine" you say breaking your grip from his hands as they quickly find their way to your hips, tightly gripping them as his eyes tightly close shut.

"ngh fuck" nick huskily groans as he cums in you "I can feel all your cum in" you chuckle "I could put some more in there if you want me too" he offers "no and no" you sternly deny "c'mon you know you want me too" nick says loosening his grip "I would love it but we need too get to school" you say pulling off nick and putting on your clothes "but trust once schools over you're all mine" you say "I can't wait" nick hums satisfiedly.

[adrienneleclerc]

Hi! I saw that requests were open and i don't know of you do "part 2's" but this is about Lando latest story (the "what's for dinner b****h") can you do a part 2 with the reactions to the video (the other Quadrant guys, the other drivers, the fans) thank you so much ❤

Hey, babes! So I do part 2’s if it’s something people really want and reactions sound super fun to do! You know that sound of “how the fuck did he not die?!?” That’s what everyone is thinking!

Part 2

Pairing: Lando Norris x Latina! Reader

Summary: Lando’s Quadrant post had millions of views, which means there are millions of people reacting to it, his colleagues included.

Warning: spelling and grammatical errors because I refuse to read it over

Lando posted his video about 5 minutes after editing everything. Carlos got the notification when he was boxing so he decided to sit on a bench in the gym and watch the video his friend and ex-teammate posted.

“Knowing my girlfriend, she will not act so sweetly to me calling her a bitch…” Lando said in the video and Carlos paused it.

“Got that right cabrón, have you met her?” Carlos said. He was the one that introduced Lando to Y/N since she’s friends with Rebecca, he resumed the video.

“…but I want to know how she reacts.” Lando said.

“Not well, my muppet friend.” Carlos said. He watched the video and as soon as Lando said “bitch, what’s for dinner?” He saw Y/N’s face change while she was making dinner.

When Carlos finished the video, he just had one thought on his mind, and he called Lando. Two rings later…

“Hel..” Lando didn’t even finish his greeting.

“How the fuck did you not die?!?” Carlos asked, practically screaming, Lando pulled the phone away from his ear, and brought it close again once Carlos is done.

“Oh, you saw the video.” Lando said nonchalantly, looking over at Y/N who was making popcorn.

“Yeah, i saw, how did Y/N not do anything after you called her a bitch?” Carlos asked and Lando gasped offendedly.

“She threatened my life! I hardly call that nothing.” Lando said.

“She was kidding.” Carlos said.

“I Don’t think she was, I’ll talk to you later, mate.” Lando said. As soon as he hung up, his phone rang again. “Yes?”

“There’s no way Y/N was okay with you calling her a bitch.” Oscar said.

“Why a re you talking about Y/N like she’s the victim, she threatened to kill me!” Lando exclaimed.

“It’s a girl thing, Lando. Lily says that she wants to grow aconite flowers.” Oscar said but considering Lando’s pause, he knew that Lando did not know what he was talking about. “It’s wolfsbane, poisonous.”

“How are you not concerned by this?” Lando asked.

“She listens to true crime podcasts, it’s a girl thing. Don’t forget to train.” Oscar says, hanging up. Lando moves to the couch and Y/N puts popcorn in a big bowl so they could watch a movie together in the living room.

“What was that about, fresita?” Y/N asked.

“Nothing, baby girl, just my friends talking about my prank video.” Lando said.

“Ah that, we’re trending on YouTube, the posts has so many comments.” Y/N said, opening her phone to YouTube,

“No way, let me see.” Lando said, Y/N handed Lando her phone and he clicked the video and began reading the comments.

Land-hoe: you could see the terror in Lando’s eyes when she mentioned research chemicals 😂

GP Queen: the second he said he was going to call Y/N a bitch, I knew he was going to fear for his life, I was right.

User32: there is no way Y/N is that unhinged, how can she threaten her boyfriend like that?

Oscah Girly: that’s how they are, they’re so April and Andy from Parks and Rec.

LN4💕: yes!! They’re so black cat and golden retriever

Ferrari slut: I love how he apologized immediately after, he’s so sweet to her

“Well they got one thing right, you are definitely the black cat to my golden retriever.” Lando said, giving Y/N a kiss on the forehead,

“Thanks, Lando, but the both of us are more like chaotic orange cats.” Y/N said and Lando laughs.

“You’re not wrong.” Lando said.

The next day, Lando was scrolling through TikTok and saw someone upload a part of Max’s stream from yesterday. The part where Max reacts to Lando’s prank video

“Lando was super brave for calling Y/N a bitch while she was holding a knife…good an her for setting boundaries…see, right after setting boundaries, Lando fixed his behavior. Lando does a lot of stupid shit but that man loves Y/N with all his heart and would never call Y/N or any other girl a bitch, he’s respectful like that.” Max said in the clip. Lando liked the video and kept scrolling.

The End

Hope y’all liked it!

[pastlivesxpastlie]

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Anything’s better than the way I feel right now

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

PraiseKink!Vessel can’t stand to see you burnt out, but he loves to watch you fall apart under his touch.

Tags/ CW/ Head’s Up: vessel x reader, fem!reader, gendered pet names (good girl, princess etc), praise kink, lots and lots of praise from Ves, angst, hurt/comfort, comfort sex, deep throat, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, established relationship, hand-on-throat (NO BREATHPLAY), not revised

a/n: repost due to an error. if you thought you already saw this, no you didn't.

MDNI 18+

You’re burnt out. It happens, but you had been on such a roll that this slump hurts ten times worse. You’re laying in the dark in just a old baggy band tee and your undies…pants be damned when you’re having a meltdown. The bedroom door creeks open, and there’s Vessel. He had been gaming with his mates and wanted you to stay in the den with him, but you said you needed alone time. And he honored it. He always did. He disrobes and slips in behind you.

“Still don’t want to talk, babes?” He asks softly as he plants a kiss behind your ear. You shake your head “no,” and he nuzzles his nose into your neck.

“You’re a good girl, you know that? You’re strong. You’re smart. You’re soft and tender in a cruel world. And you’re allowed to have bad days. Yeah? It’s ok to just be.”

Finally tears surface in your eyes. You’d been needing to cry all day but the tears just wouldn’t come. You roll over and bury your head in the crook of his neck that rests against his pillow. Despite your tears and sniffles, you can’t help but kiss and nip at his neck.

“Angel…”

“I just want to feel good with you,” you whisper breathlessly…pathetically as your lips graze up to his cheek. He whimpers and holds you close as your lips find the corner of his mouth.

“Mmmph. Look at you. Telling me what you want…and taking it. That’s so hot, good girl.” He lifts your leg over his hip and lands a playful swat on your juicy ass. “I can guess what else you want. Be my little doll, yeah? Just make the sounds I want you to make. Can you do that?”

You’re eyes are rolling back just from him speaking to you as your hips roll forward. He groans softly and takes to your neck. His mouth wets your neck with needy, sucking kisses as his large hand grips your under your panties. Your back arches and his trails up your shirt.

He moves to your ear and nips the lobe. “Such a pretty girl for me. Do you know how good you make me feel? Even when you feel like shit…you’re a fucking goddess.”

You balk a bit at his aggression.

“Ah ah ah. You’re going to take the compliment like you’re taking my cock. That’s something you are excellent at, isn’t it? Hm?” He looks at your face in the dark and rubs his face against yours. “Agree with me. Be a good girl.”

You bite your lip and whimper. “I’m good at taking your cock.”

“Mm. And do you believe that?”

“I…I…yeah. Yeah I do.”

“Smart girl…good answer,” he whispers as he presses sweet kisses to your cheek. “Now…tell me that you’re a good…smart girl. Tell me your tenderness is a strength… do that for me? Please.”

You repeat him with trepidation. The way he’s weaponized your praise kink has paid dividends, but you feel awkward. He presses a deep kiss your lips and lets his fingers rub against your clit under your panties.

“I need you ready for me,” he coos. You writhe and whimper under his touch. You can tell he absorbed every minute of you touching yourself for him…he was a natural. You grasp in the darkness for his crotch. Of course he’s already hard…you’re his precious girl. He slips out of his underwear and sits on his knees beside you. “A perfect view…oh my god” as he speaks you’ve lifted your shirt to let him play with your tits.

“Mmm. For me, precious?”

You’re already stroking his cock and moaning again as he resumes rubbing your sensitive wet clit. You look up at him with babydoll eyes and let your lips part slightly as you move towards him. The moment your mouth wraps around his cock he’s holding the back of your head not to push your further, but to hang on. The way you suck his cock makes him feral. He wants to be gentle and loving since you had your bad day…but you did say you just wanted to feel good. And Vessel wants to make you feel so good that you see god and forget about the bullshit. He moves his hand from your cunt and holds your soft middle.

Vessel’s hips move with more force as he holds you still. You move your own hand down to touch yourself as he uses your pretty mouth.

“That’s it. That’s it, good girl.” He lets out a growl as he feels you gag ever so slightly. “Can you turn your brain off and just feel good for me?”

You nod and whine pathetically with his cock pumping in and out your mouth, your plush lips rubbing against him roughly. You’re able to bring yourself to orgasm quickly, and it nearly does him in. His hand goes to your throat to gently stop you.

“You’ve done enough. Such a good fucking girl. See what you’ve done to me?” He asks breathing heavily. “You made yourself cum and almost made me finish in the back of your throat.” His thumb gently rubs your pulse point. “But you would have liked that. You would have liked to been filled like that. Such a flexible girl. Speaking of flexible…”

He roughly moves you to put a pillow under your ass and rip off your underwear.

“Ves…babe…I’m not that flexi-”

“Shh sh shh shh” he says as he lifts your legs up and out. Your tummy folds and rolls as your hips are elevated for your boyfriend’s pleasure. He gently slaps your clit. “You are the best girl. You can do it. You can take it. Tell me you can take it. Hm? Please, good girl? Believe in yourself for me?”

He’s already moving to push inside you when you whimper his name.

“Ves oh my god…I’m not built for this.”

“Oh precious angel…” He thrusts in unceremoniously. “You’re built to feel good. To experience the pleasure you deserve. And right now…that means your built for this.

He holds you by your ribs cage that’s protected by your soft, luscious flesh. He loves that he gets to knead…suck…bite…kiss this gorgeous body…and he shows you by fucking you with sharp, firm thrusts. The angle is incredible despite feeling folded like a reluctant pretzel.

“Ffffuck….ahh…my good girl….my good fucking girl,” he growls out. His pace picks up as your walls tighten around him. You’ve forgotten about your day. You’ve forgotten the nasty thoughts you had about yourself…your voice croaks…

“I feel so pretty with you…”

He moves quickly to hold your throat gently and fuck into you harder. He moves his face close to your ear, which makes you scream a little because he’s bottomed out in you.

“If I could take away that disgusting voice in your head, I would pluck it out and swallow it myself” he whispers. He bites into your soft neck and you cry out. “You’re my girl…and my girls don’t fucking hate themselves.”

And that’s when you let go. Your hips release and you let yourself be used. When he cums, it’s loud. It’s pathetic sounding…like strangled sobs in his throat as he cries your name. When he eases out of you and relaxes, he kisses your forehead and says “I’m sorry. I scared myself there a bit at the end.”

You caress his face and let your thumb rub against his lip. “No. Ves…no…that was wonderful. I…I liked it. Just because you like to be soft and…praising me…doesn’t mean you can’t be enjoy something rougher.”

He nods softly and lays back. “Noted.”

[littlebullofblythe]

ALASTOR NSFW ALPHABET

Disclaimer: this is my first time doing an NSFW alphabet but I thought it would be fun to do in between my other drafts. Feel like doing more of these so feel free to send in requests for other Hazbin characters!

Warnings : fem reader, mentioned somnophilia + breeding

A — Aftercare (What they’re like after sex) Insanely gentle. You swear half the time this isn’t even the same man, and he must be an imposter. The moment you’ve wrapped up your session, he’s delicately dressing you in your nightgown (red, of course), tucking you into bed and locking his arms around you, cradling you close to him and humming until you fall asleep, all while running his fingers through your hair and kissing your forehead, cheeks and lips.

B — Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and their partners) His fingers, and your thighs. Nothing satisfies him more than seeing you a shaking, whimpering mess while he fingerfucks you into your bed, or seeing the bruises from his hands tightly gripping your thighs the next morning. A little reminder that you belong to him.

C — Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically) Nothing makes the crackle of static or his antlers grow as much as the thought of, let alone actually getting to, fucking you so full of cum that you have no choice but to clean the sheets the next morning. He won’t finish anywhere but inside your cunt, not even in your mouth.

D — Dirty Secret (A dirty secret of theirs) He’s stolen your panties before - and he is convinced that you have no idea, but you know. Will you tell him? Absolutely not.

E — Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?) He claims to have been a virgin until you, that he’s never touched another person intimately before, but the way he pounds you into the surface you’re against, making sure he hits every weak point with each thrust, how eagerly he eats you out while teasing you with his fingers, there’s no way it’s true. And if it is, he must have watched some insane videos.

F — Favorite Position (This goes without saying) He loves having you on your side, one leg draped over his shoulder, with his hand cupping your chin and forcing you to look up at him. The height difference only makes it sweeter, the position giving him the ability to hit as deep inside of you as he can, and feel your legs tremble against him as he ruins you, loving the sight of tears and your makeup running down your face.

G — Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? Etc.) There isn’t much time for him to joke around in between his growling, and the praise he whispers to you. Occasionally, he’ll slow down and crack a joke, watching you giggle before resuming his standard pace, enjoying the startled noises that leave you every time.

H — Hair (How well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? Etc.) He shaves as often as he has to, which is fairly often, and opts to just shave his whole body, save for a patch of red and black fur along his collar and chest, and little tufts of fur on his elbows, wrists and ankles. He knows how much you enjoy running your fingers through his fur, so he tries to leave some areas just fluffy enough for you, and you alone.

I — Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect) It doesn’t matter if you’re having a gentle, passionate session or if he’s pounding into you with reckless abandon, he’ll always lean down just enough to kiss you and whisper sweet nothings in your ear, telling you how much he loves you and how perfect and gorgeous you are, how he couldn’t dream of being with anyone other than you, how you’re his everything.

J — Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon) The only times he’ll ever get himself off are if he’s in his rut season, and you are nowhere to be found. That being said, if he sees you, and you aren’t in the middle of something important, you’re being whisked away to the bedroom and not being seen for a few hours at least.

K — Kink (One or more of their kinks) Breeding - he adores watching how overstimulated and loud you become as he fucks another load into your tight cunt, cupping your cheek and whispering in your ear about how good of a mother you’re going to be. Somnophilia - initially, it was experimental - you’d given him permission to fuck you while you slept one night, just to see how it was, and now one of his favourite activities is watching your eyes widen and your cheeks go dark red when you wake up to his cock buried inside you. You’ve come up with a system — if he finds you asleep without panties, it’s fair game for him to do whatever he wants with you. Biting - oh, how he loves biting you, leaving dark bruises all along your neck, chest and thighs from his sharp fangs, and seeing the aftermath the next day, dark bruises peeking up from the collar of your shirt.

L — Location (Favorite places to do the do) The bedroom, as basic as that is. He adores being able to fuck you silly, and then spoon with you until you both fall asleep.

M — Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going) Seeing you bite your lip, especially when it’s directed to him. It’s become your subtle way of informing him just how needy you are when in a crowd full of people.

N — No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) Threesomes / group sex. He doesn’t want to share you - you’re all his, no one else will get a chance to lay their hands on you the way he has. And anyone who does will be sorry.

O — Oral (Preferences in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) He isn’t on the receiving end often. He finds it far too difficult to pull his cock from your mouth before he cums, and he won’t let himself finish anywhere but inside of you. When it’s the other way around, you have to physically force his head back from you before you pass out from overstimulation. He could eat you out with that long tongue of his for hours if you would let him (and you have! Once, but never again. You passed out towards the end and slept for the whole day afterwards.)

P — Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc.) It depends entirely on his mood - which most of the time, means you’re getting violently pounded into the bed - it’s a wonder you’re even able to walk afterwards.

Q — Quickie (Their opinion on quickies, how often, etc.) He pretends he isn’t a fan of quickies - but how quickly he fucks up into you before he begins a broadcast and how often, says otherwise.

R — Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? Etc.) He’s probably the riskiest man you’ve met. He’ll have you firmly sat in his lap, buried inside you, occasionally rocking his hips to see you try and stifle a moan to not alert anybody - whether it be in the hotel parlor during an activity, or while he’s on air.

S — Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?) Technically, he could go for as long as he wanted, he enjoys seeing your tears of overstimulation and hearing your desperate moans far more than he should, but usually taps out after round three or four, maybe five if he really wants to see you a mess.

T — Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?) He doesn’t bother with toys. Why would he, when you’re right there?

U — Unfair (How much they like to tease) He’ll tease you for hours if he feels like it, ghosting his fingers over your body, toying with your clit until you’re just about to cum, before pulling his hands away and going back to tracing little patterns against your skin.

V — Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make) He’s not exactly loud, but not exactly quiet either. He’ll lean down just to growl in your ear. Often times he’ll trap you in a kiss in order to quiet you down.

W — Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character) Scratching the base of his ears or tail is enough stimulation to have him whimpering and desperately grinding against you. Having the base of his knot teased while he’s inside you is an easy way to have his pace suddenly grow more aggressive, making you see stars.

X — X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) His body is slightly fuzzy - he can’t get all the fur when he shaves, so there’s a slight fuzzy texture to his skin that you don’t mind at all. Various scars, across his chest, legs and arms, and a particularly nasty one over his chest from the fight with Adam. He enjoys you running your fingers along the edges of each scar.

Y — Yearning (How high is their sex drive?) The only time his sex drive would be considered high is during his mating season, which you are more than happy to help with. Otherwise, he’s got a relatively standard sex drive. 

Z — Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards) He can fall asleep in minutes with you cuddled up against his chest, especially if you’re playing with his hair. Your presence and touch soothes him enough to sleep.

Taglist (comment to be added!) : @angeldhd @ziankenvirus

[bluecollarmcandtf]

M O O N L I G H T ™

Chapter II

On my last sweep of the house, I check each pledge before the party. Moonlight™ is now partnered with Greek life on campus, and it's the perfect tool for hazing. As president, the app recognizes me as their manager, so I alone get to boss the mind controlled idiots around!

"Pledge!" I snap.

"Yes, brother, sir!" he barks back, yelling it loud and clear without any reservations.

I forget what his name is; Jason, maybe? As long as he's being puppetted around by the Moonlight™ app, it doesn't matter. He'll answer to anything I call him with a rigid smile and a purple stare. He might technically be asleep, but honestly I prefer underclassmen this way. They're much less annoying.

"Scrub these toilets good!" I sneer enjoying the way he hangs on my every word, "You're the janitor for Delt-Ep-Phi's party tonight! I don't want to see any shit or puke unless you're mopping it up! Got it?"

"Yes, brother, sir!"

Just like that, my obedient janitor agrees to my orders and resumes mopping like his life depends on it. At the very least, Moonlight™ has made these pledges more effective. It would have been impossible to force menial work on a freshman without getting a half-assed result. Too many of the guys at this school are rich kids from prep schools: the kind that would be mortified to be near a mop, let alone clad in some sticky maintenance uniform. I bet Jacob, or whatever the fuck his name is, would be mortified to find out that this thing hasn't been washed in years. We just keep throwing it in the closet for the next pledge we have moonlight as janitor. The only thing that makes the dank BO of the garb bearable is the accompanying scent of cleaning chemicals.

I ignore the smell and give the guy a slap on the neck, leaving him to mop the bathroom in silence. My next stop is the kitchen, where I check on my younger cousin Tristan. Tonight, he's just the dishwasher.

"Sup, dude," I say, "Grab me a beer."

"Yes, brother, sir!" he yells back like an army cadet, obediently fetching a bottle from the fridge and opening it for me.

"How's dish-duty?"

"It's amazing! I love being the dishwasher, brother, sir!" my cousin beams.

It's weird to see him like this; with glowing eyes and forced grin. The Tristan I know is charming and unbothered, normally gliding through conversation with subtle looks and gestures. He's normally got this cool style that wins over girls and intimidates guys, so it doesn't help that he's all dressed up in the frat's old dish-boy uniform. I really hate that an upperclassman wrote on his forehead. That'll make classes next week a bit awkward. I suppose it's just a normal part of hazing, and I'm not going to make an exception just because he's my family.

"You gonna be a good dishwasher for the party tonight?" I probe, taking a sip of beer.

"Yes, brother, sir!" he declares, "I'll be ready at the sink for anything that needs cleaned, and I'll be ready to refill any of my brother's drinks."

"That's right, and remember only brothers can get a refill. Girls have to ask one of us to get it from you," I make sure to clarify. It makes it a lot easier to pick up girls when they have to approach us for their next drink. If only I could use Moonlight™ on them to put them to work as the frat's strippers or something. That'd really be getting the most out of the app!

Heavy bass blares from the other room: the party's getting started. I've already spent too much time with Tristan, so I say bye to my cousin and head on out to the main area.

Standing by the door is our coat rack: his name's Kyle, and he's much better as furniture.

"Your arms tired yet, Kyle?" I sneer.

"No, brother, sir!" he grins back.

I laugh a bit when I notice someone wrote a 'kick me' message, pointing at his crotch. A guy like Kyle could definitely use a good kick in the nuts. The freshman came to our call-out with an insanely high opinion of himself. He seemed to think he had every right to get in because he was a legacy. Apparently, his dad is rich alumni so we couldn't refuse him, but that didn't make him immune to our new hazing ritual via Moonlight™. He definitely got the worst job in the house. He might not be scrubbing toilets or cleaning dishes, but his arms are sure to be sore as fuck by morning; not to mention all the kicks in the groin he's guaranteed to get!

"Are you gonna hold those coats, pledge?" I snarl in his face, getting only a cold smile in return.

"Yes, brother, sir!"

"And why is that?" I spit menacingly.

"Because I'm a coat rack, brother, sir!"

"That's right, and coat racks don't react when they get a kick in the balls, right?"

"No, brother, sir!"

With a chuckle, I swing my foot into his crotch. Kyle jerks, but his lips remain stretched across his face in a toothy grin. His body can't help but flinch at the sudden pain, but it only takes a second for Moonlight™ to reassert control. Barely a few seconds have passed and he's back, stiffly holding his arms out, sweating from the effort of being completely still.

"Thank you, brother, sir!" he manages to say. I guess one of the upperclassmen told Kyle to thank anyone who gives him a kick. That'll be a fun little party trick!

I give the guy a little slap on the face before I leave. Tonight's party is gonna be off the hook! I've still got some time before it starts, maybe I can catch a minute to relax in my room. It's not that late yet, but I'm starting to feel the effects of a long day. I'd love to just lay down, even just for a second.

Unfortunately, I fall asleep...

The next day, I wake up when my phone dings with a notification from the frat group chat...

"What the fuck!" I jump out of bed, "What is this picture?"

Though I don't want it to be true, the picture appears to be me. I'm dressed up like some stupid waiter, with the same cringe smile and glowing eyes as any the other Moonlight™ employee, but that can't be right. We only use the app on pledges! There's no way in hell any of my brothers would sign me up like this!

I rack my brain for any memory of last night's party, trying to recall any clue that'll tell me this picture is a lie. The endeavor only hurts my head, but I do notice that I feel unusually sweaty for having just gotten an entire night's rest. My arm feels sore, and my pajamas feel awkward like I was drunk pulling them on.

"Dude, you were a great manservant last night!" one text reads.

"Totally think you should quit that finance degree and be a full-time butler!"

"I could get used to you fetching us drinks and giving us foot rubs!" another adds, "We should have done this years ago!"

I stare at the texts in horror and step into my bathroom. Sure enough, I see the word 'buttler' written across my forehead in sharpie. Someone must have thought it was hilarious to draw a stupid goatee on my face as well. My eye twitches as I stare at my reflection, rage boiling up inside of me.

"Why the fuck did you do that to me!" I text back, "I'm the fucking president!" Even through the phone, my words drip with malice.

"Don't dish out what you can't take!" one replies simply, "Just a prank, bro!"

I try to slow my breaths, but my fists are clenched painfully tight. I'm gonna beat whoever's idea this was! It's one thing for us to use Moonlight™ on freshmen, but I'm a senior and I refuse to spend my last year in this frat moonlighting as a butler! I'm supposed to be getting drunk and laid at these parties! Not marching around with a bowtie and silver tray, serving drinks and whatever the fuck else!

"I wouldn't get yourself too worked up, dude," a guy texts, "You might be in control now that your awake, but remember you're at our whim the second you fall asleep. I could have you scrubbing the floor with your toothbrush tonight if you don't behave yourself. Lol."

The message makes me see red, but he's right. An overwhelming sense of helplessness falls over me. I could beat those fuckers up now, but what would that make them do later? They already wrote on my face with permanent ink! What if they made me shave my head or get a tattoo! Fuck!

This can't be legal, but honestly, I have no idea what the contract stated when we signed up for the app! How do I even go about cancelling this Moonlight™ job? The tech is so convoluted and hard to use!

In the meantime, I'll be lucky if all they make me do is serve them their drinks and do their chores. I guess I can live with that for a short while.

With a grimace of resignation, I text back, "Good one, guys."

[h4m1lt0ns]

HEARTBREAK SYNDROME.

episode eleven :: “REDBULL FANS”

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ pairing ︴various drivers x y/n

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ genre ︴social media au / irl snippets

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ summary ﹔musical releases resume and so does the drama.

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ face claim ﹔ wonyoung jang (28)

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ warnings ﹕ excessive cussing, none.

ylnestate

♡ liked by lewishamilton, carlossainz55 and 18,450,948 more.

ylnestate U&U no. 44 will be released tonight at midnight. ‘Grandstand Girl’ is the 44th mini album by ﹫y/n and features artists like ﹫theweeknd, ﹫justinbieber, and ﹫champagnepapi. All songs (apart from Trust Issues) were produced and written by Y/n in the past couple months as she’s currently working on her biggest record yet, so stay tuned for that 😉⭐️!

tagged: theweeknd, champagnepapi, justinbieber.

1,492,592 comments.

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→ username u&u stands for undecided and unreleased, y/n usually drops u&u eps right before an album when she has songs that don’t fit the genre/make sense with the rest of the album. they usually consist of 2-6 songs and this one is ep number 44! hope this helped 💗

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y/n

♡ liked by lewishamilton, oscarpiastri and 11,393,159 more.

y/n SEBASTIAN VETTEL PLEASE COME BACK 💔 adopted another papaya fucker and a williams kid ft. fernando rizzlonso and sir lew 🩷

993,593 comments.

y/l/nestate more kids?

username LEWIS 👊🏽 IS SO 👊🏽 HANDSOME 🗣

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username FERNANDO RIZZLONSO.

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username casually posts after ep announcement, no one like you, y/n y/l/n.

mercedesamgf1 pls bring lewis and george back, we need you three in the office rn 🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀

→ y/n on our way rn 🏃‍♀️

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[obeythebutler]

Could you write the Dateables protecting MC? :)

Dateables Protecting MC

WARNING: Violence, Spoilers for all the characters.

DIAVOLO

You're supposed to be safe here, Diavolo affirms.

He had R.A.D. established right in his domain, in his capital, so that demons could be civilised (at least according to human rules of morality) and some familiarity could be achieved.

Every professor in this institution had been nitpicked, each student noted on paper. Appropriate measures taken to ensure safety—no fighting, no ragging, no running around unnecessarily—but what can you expect from demons.

It's hard to keep nature bound in chains.

What Diavolo didn't fathom was that some demons would have the temerity to lay a hand on the human exchange student.

His eyebrows furrow as he stops, a reticent smile still on his face. The students in front of him freeze; in the middle of having their academic documents signed by him.

"Please excuse me," He says, looking down at the demons. "I have a meeting to attend right now. Give the documents to Barbatos, and I'll stamp them by tomorrow." The students nod, bowing before leaving the room.

Although he should wait at least long enough so that they are out of sight to avoid suspicion, Diavolo can't wait, won't wait—

The safety perimeters around the campus have been breached.

Normally Barbatos or Lucifer would have taken care of such a situation, but Lucifer is back home and his butler is currently torturing a painfully arrogant noble in the Underground Labyrinth.

And it's Diavolo's magic which had formed the protective barriers, so that the Prince would know the affairs going around his academy. If it were ordinary demons he would have ignored the warnings and let the Council Members handle it, but it's a human which has breached the boundaries.

And there's only one mortal human in the Devildom. Solomon would have teleported, not blatantly ignored the infernal magic in the air.

The students lingering in the hallway step aside when they see their Prince walking with a sense of urgency to him. Diavolo knows they will gossip about him later, rumours will spread, but when they have not?

He only hopes you are unharmed.

He rushes past the gardens, disturbing the soil and the plants there. Devildom canaries, which normally would have produced the melody that the President of the Student Council loved to listen to are absent.

From what he's taught and what he knows, silence is ominous.

The forest behind the academy constricts on itself, as if wanting to hide away itself from outsiders. Still, Diavolo ignores, and forces the branches to wring away from each other and for the dense foliage to give way.

Or else he will burn the place to the ground.

You stumble on the the uneven ground, finding that the wind isn't enough to protect you against fire. Damn those demon, you grit your teeth and resume enforcing your boundary, careful to not any of the flames singe your clothes, so flammable.

The being in front of you sneers before breaking the boundaries that you had just enforced.

Fuck.

Hastily you deflect the demon's attack, but the spell drains much of your human energy, and you fall on the stones below.

"I'd suggest you go back from whichever came you crept out from," You mutter, noticing the soil that clings to the demon's hands and legs. "Besides, things might not end well for you."

"Says the pathetic human dragging themselves on the earth."

He advances further, and your heartbeat quickens when you realise just how sharp his nails are. It reminds you of talons, like that one time you watched a human-world documentary with your demons about an eagle tearing into the flesh of a fish with their talons.

He swipes at you, and you manage to get up and turn in time to avoid a lethal blow, but you underestimate his agility.

The demon's foot collides into your back, and the force of it makes you fall flat on the ground. You groan, the pain intensified with your head banging on one of the rocks.

"Weak, pathetic human," He hums above you, and when you open your mouth to cast an incantation that will make your attacker be thrown two-hundred leagues into the vast forest, he steps on your leg.

Fuck. It hurts, it hurts, it fucking hurts—

There's a weight above you, and the fiend has now placed himself above you, and unfortunately for you demon biology dictates that demons be faster, stronger and heavier.

"Should have known better than to wander into the forest all alone," He mutters, and you feel his breath on your neck. "Lost, little lamb. Foolish human."

He sits up, his weight constricting your chest, rendering you unable to breathe properly.

"Where did your pacts go now, huh?" The demon taunts, scraping his nails against your back, and it draws blood. You hiss. "Where did the Avatars go now?"

Your hands come in contact with rocks. Small, jagged pieces, and you don't waste a moment further before throwing it above you.

From what you can deduce, one of the pieces has hit him right in an eye, given the way he spits and curses. "Insolent human!" A curse, and the sound of a snarl makes your blood run cold.

All words leave you in that moment. You freeze, expecting teeth to tear into your throat, but instead you feel the demon being hauled off your back.

"And to think one of my nobles would betray me this way."

A familiar voice, and when you are able to turn and be grateful to be able to breathe properly once again, you look up and see the fiend hanging in the air.

Diavolo, you can't help but mumble.

The demon's face is starting to turn pale, given the way the Prince is gripping him by his neck effortlessly. He struggles and kicks, but it's futile.

You've never seen Diavolo so angry before. The calm veneer he usually had has disappeared, replaced by furrowed brows and an anger that makes you tremble in fear.

Even the forest, which had seemed so constricting and so secretive earlier has opened up, as if for the rightful heir of the Devildom. Or maybe that's just his magic.

"You dare harm them?" A threat and a question, and you think you hear bones cracking.

But then Diavolo throws him down, rendering such a blow that the demon is rendered unconscious, lying haphazardly on the forest floor.

The Prince breathes in deeply, as if trying to contain his anger, and then he turns to you.

"Did he hurt you?"

"Was about to," You say, getting up with Diavolo's help. "Thanks," You say, as if it's a normal day in your life to be attacked by demons, but hey, that's what your life was in the House of Lamentation when you first came here.

You can't be blamed for being indifferent to some violence and threats on your life.

"How did you find me?" You ask as he checks you over for any injuries that may have gone unnoticed by you. "I thought I was sneaky."

"At the wrong time and at the wrong place." Diavolo breathes out, and you notice how his shoulders sag. "Certainly, a forest of all places to cause mischief? You could have been injured or killed."

"I know, Dia, I know," You say, dusting off dirt from your clothes. "I thought I was safe here."

"Well, a forest is not exactly a safe place to be in," He chastises, but places a hand on your shoulder all the same. "Why didn't you call for the brothers?"

You turn away, embarassed.

"Didn't want to appear weak," You pout, not quite able to meet his eyes. "But I think I should have—"

"What could have happened to you if I hadn't come on time?" Diavolo questions, and his tone is serious. Gone is the friendliness you're accustomed to from him. "Why did you sneak away?"

"I'm sorry. I just wanted a moment to myself, and there are so many restrictions as to where I can go about in the Devildom, I just wanted some peace." You apologise, hugging the demon. "I'll be more careful next time."

Diavolo breathes out, and then there are his own arms enveloping you, until you're pressed against him.

"I apologise too," A sincere apology, squeezing you softly.

There's only so much Diavolo can do too. He can enforce rules, regulations, punishments, but in the end, you can't change the perceptions of others so easily now, can you?

And Diavolo wants to be a just ruler. Unlike his father, who spurred by grief and hatred made his son what he is today, but Diavolo did not turn out like his father. The Prince doesn't want to repeat the sins of his predecessors.

He will work towards unifying the three realms, he affirms. He will work towards a world where you can roam around safe, where he and you can exist peacefully.

Diavolo vows as he holds you close.

And blame it on nature, but the demon can't help but drift his gaze towards the unconscious demon on the floor. Given lex talionis in Devildom law, it is only fair that a special chamber in the Underground Labyrinth be prepared for the perpetrator of such a grave offence.

BARBATOS

When the butler had embarked upon another pilgrimage to the port market, he was expecting to purchase some fresh tapir for dinner.

The Young Master has expressed a desire for it, and so went Barbatos to the market. And again, it gives him an excuse to procure more goods. The demon walks and walks, past Majolish with its alluring glitter and R.A.D. with its elaborate pillars. Students would be having their clubs around this time, and night shops being set up. He navigates past them with the ease of a man who has traversed these routes since millennia, and he would know them blind.

He knows he has reach the market when the scent of the sea greets him.

And like a man on a mission, the demon buys fresh tapir first. Freshly cut and stored, and takes care to avoid bumping into the other demons around. They know better than to anger their Prince's butler, with his enigmatic smile and polite mannerisms.

There's a special side devoted to human-world spices. Cinnamon, star anise, cumin, mustard, bay leaves.....and the list goes on.

Barbatos expects a crowd consisting of demons from various layers. He doesn't expect you.

You'd almost blend in, if not for the malice radiating from the lessor demon that is gripping your wrist with such tenacity that it is sure to leave bruises. Your expression is one of panic, brows furrowed and eyes widened, and the demon's a leer.

"What the hell," You hiss, attempting to pry yourself out of the iron grip the demon has you in. "Can't anyone in the Devildom just let me live in peace?!"

"Can't ever catch the human alone with those Avatars around. Always thought your soul would be delicious, and the fear radiating from you makes it even more delectable."

"I think you've had enough for today."

The demon turns their head in surprise, not having anticipated being called out in a crowd. And the smug expression on their face disappears when they realise that they've been caught by none other than Barbatos. The expression on their face changes briefly before being replaced by a calm veneer.

"Ah, Barbatos, should have known you were found of human goods so much."

"It would be in your interest to let go of them right now." A threat, spoken with a smile.

The being in front of him wanes briefly; but doesn't let go. You focus your gaze on Barbatos instead, and watch the man for any signal to act.

"And what if I don't?" The demon scowls, baring their canines. "What if I want to feast upon the human's soul?"

The butler smiles. "I'd like to see you try."

You realise that the market has now turned silent—the usual cacophony of vendors and customers bargaining has disappeared—replaced by an eerie silence. Demons are watching, and this situation puts more pressure on Barbatos and the demon to act. There's a circle separating you three from the crowd, and you think you hear a camera shutter going off somewhere.

It would be all over Devilgram by now.

When you catch the butler's eye, he nods, and you get the signal to act. You utter the words under your breath, and by the demon hears them, its too late.

".....spirit of wind, protect me."

They fall flat on the ground, an invisible barrier now separating you both.

"Fucking hell," They groan, getting up. "The human's more bold than I thought, huh?"

A clawed hand reveals itself, and the demon pounces.

You flinch, but find that the attack is not meant for you, but Barbatos.

....He's as cool as ever.

"Cat got your tongue?" He asks, having successfully thrown the demon on the ground with a swipe of his hand. "You were so arrogant before."

They attempt to stand, but they aren't able to. Their legs won't support their weight, and they're trembling so much—was that a paralysing spell?

The crowd watches, and no doubt that the demon is being recorded, or going live on the net right now, for everyone to see them humiliated. And it provides solid evidence of their crimes.

Demons know to stay out of the way of those more powerful. But some are foolish, undoubtedly so, and hence must learn their place.

It sometimes entails choking on bitter medicine.

There's a crackle of magic in the air, you recognise, after having been through countless lessons with Solomon. Something powerful yet subtle.

Barbatos.

Ah, so that is a result of his transformation into his demon form.

"You will be punished suitably, as your Lord deems fitting," He declares, letting his tail whip around in the air. "And the consequences will be severe."

His demon form is meant to bring his point home. No threats against you will be taken lightly. They will be met with the gravest of punishments, and sanctioned by the de-facto ruler of the Devildom.

"But I'll leave you here for a while—to ponder on your transgressions."

The demon can only protest, scream, cry, beg, but Barbatos will not budge. And even before they fear Barbatos, they fear public humiliation and punishment by the Avatars. They've heard of the time when the seven lords had strangled a group of incubi at the academy effortlessly, and it his perhaps his bad luck that they happen to be near Ristorante Six. Which is reserved for an event for the members of the student council today. How unfortunate.

"Did they hurt you?" Barbatos asks, expression neutral.

"I'm just a little shaken-up, that's all." You smile, attempting to convince the demon. "Couldn't help but feel a bit bad for the demon. Isn't leaving them like that too harsh?"

"Oh, not at all," He chuckles. "We demons are quite resilient, you see. What a fall from an eight floor building may do to a human body will only result in a few scratches or bruises at worst."

So that explains Lucifer's punishments...

"I think we can leave them, in that case," You declare, massaging your forehead. "They were being creepy."

"And it shall happen no more."

"I know, Barb, because of you." You say, and he only smiles. "Now, I think you should continue with your shopping. It's getting late—what are you looking at? Go away and leave us alone!" You address the crowd which gapes at you both, and they reluctantly disperse, a murmur passing through the demons.

"Would you like to help me with some of the groceries?" Barbatos asks.

There has already been one timeline where they all lost you—to hatred and anger. Quickly replaced by another you. But that doesn't help the nightmares that sometimes plague them all, even Barbatos is not spared.

And if there is even a single possibility where you are happy and safe in the Devildom, the demon will give all he has to make it into a reality.

Because he has grown to love you.

SIMEON

When you don't turn up for your promised sleepover, Simeon begins to get worried.

He thinks you're late, at first, having your time jeopardised by one of the brothers. Maybe Mammon roped you into one of his schemes again, and now Lucifer would be chasing after you both. The thought makes him giggle, for that is quite possible.

Or maybe you would have been tired and have fallen asleep.

Simeon begins to fret when the clock strikes nine, and he's just finished making himself a cup of hellfire rose tea. The beverage is supposed to soothe his nerves, but it does little to calm the growing restless in his mind.

He sends you a message, but you don't reply.

And when even Lucifer, the one demon that is the most level-headed out of all his brothers denies having seen you at home, stating that you had left an hour earlier, Simeon begins to grow panicked.

But he forces himself to calm down, and then the two brothers no more set out to search for you.

He picks up his cape and sets out, asking Solomon to take care of Luke for the time being, and keep an eye out if you come home in his absence.

"Don't tell Luke yet," He mutters, and Solomon nods. Simeon knows the sorcerer will search for you through his own unconventional methods.

His mind retraces the way to the House of Lamentation, the cobblestone slippery due to the recent rains. There's a slight chill in the air, and so the angel wraps his cape around himself tighter.

Living in the Devildom means that his eyes have grown accustomed to the perpetual darkness, so unlike that of the Celestial Realm. Even now so, Simeon is aware that he's far too bright for demon's eyes. It makes him more vulnerable to dangers in this realm, but Simeon doesn't care.

He's got no time to waste. One hand still clutches his D.D.D. in hopes of you calling him.

Flitting through these streets aimlessly makes him restless.

And that is a feeling that Simeon already had enough of.

A twig breaks nearby, and the angel's eyes dart towards the dense foliage, towards the forest that leads to the other levels in the Devildom. It's a foreign place for him, and he doesn't know whether he'll be even to able get inside.

But he walks in anyways.

Just like he did millennia ago, when the ground seemed to shake and Michael stormed the hallways, demanding to know who had freed Lilith from the dungeon.

And he'd refused to participate in the war which had led to their sister's demise.

Why must it be a sin to love.

Even now, when Simeon steals a glance at Celestial weapons, it seems to him that they reek of sin, stained with the blood of their kin.

He forces himself to swallow the lump in his throat and continue on the unfamiliar path, and stops abruptly. The earth, dampened by rain, has fresh footprints.

Simeon narrows his eyes.

You open your eyes groggily.

It was a bad idea to let yourself go to Purgatory hall alone, but you had managed to convince Lucifer after half an hour of bribing him with vinyl records and Demonus that the demon had finally agreed to let you go, but on the condition that you would keep sending him texts to assure him that you were safe.

Ugh, after this he won't even let you step one foot out of the house without himself or his brothers.

Bless their hearts, but a human also needs alone time.

You'd managed to make it halfway to Purgatory Hall, but then you'd inhaled something in the air. It made you light-headed, and the last thing you remember was footsteps rapidly advancing before you blanked out.

You let your eyes wander. It's a forest, but its not the one you're familiar with in the Devildom. The environment is strange, and it leaves an unsettling feeling churning in the pit of your stomach.

You can fend off any animals here, that's for sure. But again, the most dangerous beings in a forest are those that walk on two feet.

"Whosoever kidnapped me, it was a bad idea."

You say out loud, hoping they hear. When no reply comes, you continue. "I was supposed to be warm and comfortable right now, but you've succeeded in hindering my plans. Loser."

"Shut your whining."

The voice sounds like the rumble of stones falling down a cliff, and it hurts your ears. You finally let yourself get up, dusting your clothes from the soil that clings to them.

Something tilts your chin upwards, and you shriek.

"What the fuck?!" You exclaim, trying to push off what seems like an invisible wall from you. You can't see the offending demon, they seem to have some special sort of abilities—being invisible—and it does not have good intentions in mind.

And, to make matters worse, your cheek is bleeding, from where it had clawed at you.

"First time I'm seeing a human here," It croaks, from somewhere around you, and you can't find out where the voice is coming from. "Knew the Prince had a programme, but he never included the other layers of the Devildom in it."

It almost sounds like the demon is fuming.

"Are we not his subjects?" He seethes, and something lunges at you. It grabs your throat, and you're grateful for the spell you had from Satan to defend yourself.

You hastily mutter the words, as much as they allow you, until the demon is sent flying back, or what you presume, given there's no longer invisible hands around your throat. A shudder escapes your body, and it brings back memories you would not want to relive again.

"Whatever vendetta you have against your Prince, sort it out with him. Not me." You cough, your voice hoarse. "Otherwise I'll be forced to attack you."

"You?" It drawls on, seemingly amused, and you prepare yourself for another attempt. "A human?"

Then they're awfully silent again.

You hate it.

You can't tell where the demon is, and there are no streetlights here, and the forest is so unfamiliar, and with the adrenaline running through your veins, it does little to help you.

A twig breaks somewhere, and you whip your head towards the source.

There's a guttural roar, and then your surroundings seem to brighten up all of a sudden, so much that it forces you to shut your eyes. You hear leaves rustling, a shuffle taking place, and you think you hear arcane murmurings—

You force yourself to open your eyes.

And your conscience did not prepare you for this sight.

There's a demon on the floor. Finally visible, you sigh in relief, but you can't make out their features. And Simeon stands over it.

His back is turned towards you, so you can't see his expression.

"You dared to harm them?" Simeon utters, and the words have a menacing tone to it. "I will not tolerate this."

The demon shrinks backwards, as much as their hands and legs let them ago, trying to back away and away and away from an angel that radiates wrath.

"You deserve to be punished."

Angels were created to do God's bidding. Protect the righteous, execute judgement and serve.

Justice is blind.

And so is anger sometimes.

Maybe other angels would have been forgiving, you think. Perhaps Raphael would have let a rain of spears rain down on the fool and present them to Diavolo, or maybe Michael would serve Divine Judgement.

But you are a human amongst demons.

And there is an angel in front of you.

An angel who has eons of wrath bottled up in him.

But he's not all-forgiving.

You can't see what happening, but Simeon bends down to whisper something into the demon's ear, and you can hear the fellow whimpering at his words.

He stands up again, and turns his gaze towards you.

"Close your eyes, please," Simeon says, and you hear him snarl, but you choose to ignore it all the same.

He's never going to be the same after this, you conclude, as the demon's screams reach a crescendo. You know the angel is on the precipice of falling.

Seraphim to archangel. Archangel to an ordinary human. Human to demon?

Is it love that will lead Simeon to fall, or the very ground on which he had established his angel-hood?

Wrath chokes you, makes the air thick and foreboding. It's alike Satan's rage, which spills over, and results in destruction. But the fear radiating from Simeon is something else, ancient anger which has been left to simmer for too long and has turned poisonous.

You had closed your eyes. Like a good lamb.

But you opened them too soon.

"Little lamb," He whispers, helping you stand. "Are you alright? There's blood on your cheek."

You think its guilt on Simeon's face. He's refusing to look at you now, choosing to instead stare at the moon which paints you both monochrome.

"I'm sorry," You say, trying your best to lighten the mood. "But thank you. I'm okay, it doesn't hurt."

"Still....you don't mind seeing me like this?" He hesitates, words trailing off in a whisper. Doubt fills Simeon's heart, but when you hold his hand so gently he caves in.

"Let's go home."

You don't tell Simeon that you saw white feathers turn black. You'll love him all the same—angel, demon or human.

SOLOMON

Maybe Solomon has a penchant for sensing danger.

Blame it on being protective, but he knew he could not stand back and watch you venture into Siren beach alone. He knows it is an important assignment, a vital part of your training to become a renowned sorcerer under his tutelage. Solomon knows you are worthy, knows you are formidable, but you're still learning.

And he would hate to see you hurt.

So when the protective charm he had placed on you secretly breaks, Solomon drops the vial of hellfire mushroom essence on the floor and stains his carpet.

He curses in a language that human ears have not heard in a very long time, mutters a spell under his breath and creates a portal.

Long ago, he would have checked twice before entering any newly-manifested portal. But he learnt and learnt and made mistakes, and now, Solomon can recite the incantation in his sleep.

His room blurs and disappears and the very air seems to change, and then the sorcerer lands on sand.

Solomon dislikes the ocean.

It brings up memories he'd rather forget, and the smell of sand and salt in the air stirs something foreign inside of him. It twists his heart into knots, but he brushes off the feeling and continues towards where your magic is the strongest.

A siren's song echoes in the distance, and Solomon takes caution and blocks that noise from his ears.

It makes humans mad.

Your scream is the first thing that reaches his ears, and he teleports.

"Make it stop!" You garble out, barely managing to cover your ears while the sirens crowd around you. They all have leers on their faces, and their lips keep moving, singing songs which will drive you to insanity.

Thankfully he can't hear, but oh fuck, he didn't teach you any spells that would keep the worst of the chorus out.

A pang of guilt strikes him. How could he be this negligent?

You look at him so scared, so helpless, so defeated—

Eons ago, he was like you too. Scared and doubtful, until he made himself a king and earned wisdom which granted him everything else, everything but death.

"Get away from them!" He shouts, eyebrows furrowed.

The sirens steal a look at him, and freeze, confused at a human which is not affected by their voice.

"Strange," One says, with seaweed in her hair. "A mortal who is not maddened yet."

He strides towards them, until he's managed to be close enough to whisper the words in your ear that will protect you against their songs, and watches as you mutter the words he says and then sigh.

"Let us be, we are no ordinary humans."

"That makes the hunt irresistible." They reply, and Solomon smiles, and shares a look with you.

"They think we'll fall in no time," He chuckles, hand under his chin. "Want to show them who we are, MC?"

You grin. "Gladly."

Then one lunges, nails and teeth far sharper than on any siren he's seen before. He recites a chant under his breath, and she falls back, into the sea.

"Warned you."

The others hiss.

You ignore the adrenaline running through your veins and focus on the remaining sirens, reciting a hex that you learnt with the sorcerer a month ago.

"......let them be singed."

There's a shriek, and it seems to be coming from all directions—the sirens all retreat into the water, your spell having done its job.

You stare until the surface calms, still not trusting yourself to face Solomon. You're trembling slightly, and you were so scared that you were going to die—

"It's okay." Solomon whispers, voice weak. You turn around to gaze at him, the sound of waves hitting rocks a background melody. He's smiling, but there's desperation in his eyes. He's hiding his true emotions right now, and aren't you doing the same?

The sorcerer hides his face into the crook of your neck, and you feel him press his lips to the skin there. He shudders, and you don't comment on it.

"I should have taught you the spell before letting you come here," He whispers, his voice breaking off at the end. "I had almost lost you there. Forgive me."

You wrap your arms around him. "It's okay," You a press a kiss to his head. "I'm safe, you're safe, we are safe." You hope Solomon is comforted by your words, given he's never let himself be so vulnerable with you before.

"You'll grow to be as powerful as me." The man chuckles, breathing deeply. Relief floods his body, and now that the adrenaline has worn off it leaves Solomon lethargic. "My sorcerer..."

He just want to be with you.

"We should go home," You suggest, noticing the chill in the air. "It's getting late. The sirens may return.."

"You can take care of them just fine now, can't you?"

"Now now, don't get too chummy with me."

BONUS: LUKE

Sorry Luke—

[satoruuswife]

literally anything w ranpo for a promt or kinktober would be amazing 🙏🙏

HIS LITTLE ASSISTANT

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Thank you for your request anon<3

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Pairing: fem!assistant!reader x detectiveranpo!

Warnings: nsfw ahead, minors dni,use of y/n and h/c

Words: 2.5kish

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SFW

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Detectiveranpo! who is in dire need of an assistant and hires the cute little h/c head after months of looking through resumes.

Detectiveranpo! who doesn't fail to notice how edible his assistant looks in her uniform.

Detectiveranpo! who finds out that his assistant is rather a cheeky and snarky woman.

Detectiveranpo! who doesn't miss the way policemen gawk at his assistant.

Detectiveranpo! who is concerningly close with his assistant, to the point he will rub her feet if she asks him to.

Detectiveranpo! who randomly brings flowers for his dear assistant, claiming that a client got it for her.

Detectiveranpo! who relishes in the feeling of being scolded by his lovely assistant.

Detectiveranpo! who finds his assistant's snarky remarks on his conceited behaviour flirty banter.

Detectiveranpo! who swears to mysteriously murder anyone who looks at his assistant the wrong way despite being a detective.

Detectiveranpo! Who goes all out for his dear assistant's birthday party and has the agency decorated from top to bottom.

Detectiveranpo! who has the cake made for his assistant along, with other gifts, sprawled out on his desk.

He wonders what else he could sprawl out on his table....

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NSFW

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Detectiveranpo! who currently has his assistant sprawled out on his desk after she made a snarky comment on his egoistical behaviour,

"your ego is quite a handful, for someone who can't even function without my help",

"I can show you something else that's a handful,"

Detectiveranpo! who is currently between his assistant's thighs, quite taken with the taste.

"curse you for hiding this haven from me y/n", who locks her thighs around his head at that

Detectiveranpo! who eats his dear assistant out for hours on end claiming he needs his dessert.

Detectiveranpo! who when pushed out from between his assistant's legs, pouts about how unfair it is and proceeds to bend her into a mating press and fuck her into oblivion.

"Those are the sounds your mouth should be making, not the half-assed insults you keep throwing my way"

Detectiveranpo! who now purposefully has his assistant dressing up in a bit more revealing manner to fuel his desires.

He claims it is for "motivational purposes"

Detectiveranpo! who thinks he should knock you up so everyone knows you're his.

"in the near future, do you want a son or a daughter?",

"what?",

"answer the question."

"a daughter, but mind telling me why you asked me that in the middle of fucking?"

"just a curious thought," he grins

Detectiveranpo! who in his head, already has a family with you and plans to pop the question any day now.

You're his entirely his.

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Please excuse the grammar this was written on a phone and in a hurry😭

[sophvilla]

Let me Eat You Out

°°°°°°°°°Enha Series°°°°°°°°

Pairing: Bf! Heeseung X Gf! Femreader

Synopsis: Heeseung has a Huge obsession with your thighs and it can't be helped more if you wear laced stockings in the house, to which he can't help but touch you.

Warning: smut, MDNI, 18+, thigh obsession, reader is wearing lace stocking, reader gets called ( Baby, Princess etc ), Nonidol au,

LEE HEESEUNG | 이희승

Heeseung and His obsession with your thighs

Whenever you wear thigh high, it's over for him, The sight of you wearing a white stocking on which gets him so hard that he can’t help but ask you to wear them more often as he can Enjoy that sight of you.

It’s like He goes Mute the second He see you in those scrumptious thing.

But today he can’t keep his hand to himself as he’s so turned by you that the situation has led to you sitting on his lap with his hardend length right underneath your core,

As He latches onto your neck like baby while one of his hands pinches the inner part of your thighs causing you to Squirm and writhe underneath his perverted touches,

“H-Hee…. Stop..it” you squeak out as his hands pinches your clothed nipple and ass cheeks as his Boner is Pressed against your core,

“Why’d you wear this Baby, when you already know I can’t resist you in this? Hm?"

“ I just wanted t-to dress up a bit, hee.”

“mm, I don’t think so.”

“ what ? why.--! ”

He pulls his body off of yours, sat in between your thighs with your legs dangling over his. He pulls up your shirt to your neck, revealing perky tits, as he resumes with his torture by pinching them, causing you to squeal in surprise.

“Hee— Baby stop, it’s too much-h..!”

His Toned arms lifts your Milky legs over his Shoulders, while leaving trails of soft kisses on you inner thigh trailing up to you heated core Without breaking Eye contact with you, Nothing could beat watching your cute face in pleasure,

He grins, head lowering towards your clothed Cunt spread out for him. He lifts up your skirt with your lace stocking still on your legs, pressing kisses onto the Wet patch accompanied by non-stop gropes to your Thigh and Tits.

“My Princess Look’ so pretty like this, legs all spread out with these lacey stockings for me, While I eat that Tight pussy made just for me, Only me”

You let out a whine of desperateness at his Vulgar words, to which he smirks right back at you from below at your whine.’ As You out of desperateness buck your hips towards his face, eager to let him do his Work already,

“ Is my baby That Desperate For me to Eat you out,?”

“Yes-s please Hee, can’t wait no more”

And that’s when he dives into your Pussy, Your boyfriend was eating you out, your legs trembling and your chest rising and falling, barely able to catch your breath. He’s been at it for seconds, but it’s felt like an hour, his head buried deep in between your thighs as you held up his hair.

His hands pushing out your legs further, so his tongue can get into all the spots that have touched, moaning, but you were holding out the best you could. Biting your lower lip and closing your eyes as the pleasure soaked you in, it was hard not to react, especially when he was making you feel this good.

His rough hands holding your thighs up to your shoulder as he Sucks at your cunt like it’s his last time, Fingers holding the Lacey material of your stocking as your grip on his hair tighter than before and your back arching and your foot goes to his back but some stability, a muffled laugh into your core making you jolt, your eyes watering from every action he was making.

And The session continued with him fucking you in your scandalous stocking afterwards.

[sseomtada]

rear view [ruben dias]

gripped onto a sliver of inspiration i felt and this came out...not proofread. warnings: 18+, masked!ruben, taunting, praise, one use of the word sl*t (affectionately, i promise), a lil rough to gentle...

the sound of your heels meeting the wooden floor is prominent as you stagger into your flat blindly. a hand splays, fingers fanning wide to feel along the smooth wall for a light switch. flick - nothing.

though obviously not a fluke, you flip the switch a few times more to ensure that you’re not being dramatic. air leaves your lungs in a smooth rush while you continue along the dark path to resume your wind down routine.

work has been absolutely brutal. long hours, sitting stationary for endless amounts of time until you tailbone feels battered, and not nearly enough pay to be quite frank. you needed a vacation, or a lobotomy - whichever provides the most instant relief and gratification.

“snoogs?” you call calmly for your cat.

she gets so shy sometimes, but she loves the dark. it’s her hunting ground and you’re a helpless little ferret. every day must be a mind boggling adventure for her fur baby. or maybe you’re romanticizing it too much, delirious from lack of proper rest.

“snooogss?” your voice is a sing song.

around the bend to the living room you go and let your ears perk up to lock in. while your mind is dancing between reality and imagination, what was that in the corner, you hear a rustle and sudden a fur ball is launching at your chest.

with an oof, you catch her and stumble backwards. the sudden halt you come to isn’t from a wall as you would expect, but a hard, warm body. their broad chest expands with a slow inhale and you slowly let snoog melt from your hands.

“hi, princess.” fingertips grip into your waist, and tension falls from your frame as you recognize the timbre and feel. it’s just ruben.

“h-hi…” you don’t know what to say to stay in character, so you try to keep it as simple as possible.

bringing up this fantasy of yours really did a number on him. it had only been two days since you disclosed it during pillow talk and look at him now, ready to be nominated for his oscar.

“i’ve been watching you for some time,” he reaches an arm around your stomach and reels you right up against him. “you really ought to wear more than cropped shirts and panties when you walk by the windows.”

a hand slides up your thigh, the edges of his fingers toying with your underwear’s seam. you begin to seep into his petting. ruben is in sync with you, his hips drop to catch yours and push them back up.

“or not, cause you look so fucking hot.” an open mouth kiss lands on your lower neck. “so pretty, babygirl.” he starts undoing the closures on your top. “so fuckable.”

you bite out a moan you had been attempting to stifle. that gorgeous accent pairing with those nasty words beckon you to respond. you push back into him, skirt bunching up, rasping.

his hands roam you wildly and dangerously. one cups your hot cunt, squeezing until he feels it throb against his palm. the other alternates between massaging your breasts that he pulls free of your bra.

“that’s what you wanna do to me, hm?” your brows meet as you turn your head.

“mhmm…” ruben grazes the fabric of the mask covering his face across your cheek. “come here.”

you’re dragged over to the sofa where he crashes down harshly, pulling you to sit on his lap with your back to his front. ruben’s burning touch is back again. he has your legs spread wide, using his thighs to keep yours open while he circles your covered clit.

“shit!” your head drops against his shoulder.

“listen to that,” he chuckles, spanking the ruined seat of your panties. “why’re you already so wet, angel?”

“i’ve been-” you swallow thickly. “waiting for you.”

that makes him growl, pulling at your panties until they dig into your flesh. ruben tosses the stretched out fabric to the side and teases your hole with two fingers. you buck into them hungrily.

“can you be good and take my fingers like this?” ruben thrusts them into your pussy to the knuckle and your eyes disappear. he doesn’t stop there, fucking them into you every time he asks, “like this, like this, like this?”

“oh, fuck…” your hips start to rock onto them for more friction.

“not an answer-”

“yes!”

you surge upwards to catch his lips between your own. it’s carnal and possessive and claiming the way your tongue rolls over his. your words fall down the rabbit hole into him in between deep breaths, yes i can be good, i can be good.

“i know you can. maybe you should close the curtains when you play with yourself, too.” ruben nips at your earlobe.

god, how is he so good at this? he’s never been shy with his words, much less when you have sex, but tonight is another level. if you had to guess, you would say that he’s certainly done his homework.

“need you in me…” you whimper.

“aww, look at you.” ruben swipes his free thumb over your bottom lip, dragging the skin slowly. “i need to feel you squeezing and shaking. then, we can move on.”

a gushiness fills the air as he fills you powerfully with his digits. you’re nothing short of a mess, legs trying to close on instinct and his forcing them open wider for the same reason. you grasp out wildly, hands eventually settling behind his neck where a bit of his hair peeks out of his mask.

“let it go, princess. just like that.” he laughs into your ear, curling and pumping relentlessly.

it feels more like you are the one getting let go of. the rope you cling to snaps and you’re free falling. terrified initially, but accepting and gaining pleasure from the weight pressing down on your tummy.

you scream with a filthy grin, fuck, you’re gonna make me sq-

and the weather changes right on cue. your hips lift just above his, one hand dropping to his thigh and the next flying to flick at your clit as you rain down. soft patters fall onto your helpless wooden floor. it creaks too with the force of ruben handling you roughly to face him.

“good fucking girl…” he praises, yet spanks you.

another scream that melts from terror to erotic erupts from your throat. he smooths where his blow lingers as you rut over his bulge, running his basketball shorts. not that he seems to mind with the way he’s pushing it up into you too.

“if you saw me touch myself, you’ve seen me ride dick before too, right?” now that you’ve cum, you’re no longer as needy as before.

ruben knows this about you and you suspect it’s the reason he decides to go about tonight they way that he is. the light is so dim in here, but you see his eyes glint mischievously. and he calls you a brat.

“gonna do me like that, huh?” he sucks your breast and reaches down to free himself. “show me, pretty girl. show me, fuck-”

his words end up in his throat as you swallow him whole. so snug and warm tucking into your walls, you sigh with content. you let yourself just feel him, hips circling slowly to get your bearings.

your stomach tenses as you lift up and down his cock. he swears lowly in portuguese, rubbing up your ass to your waist. his hands slowly leave your body completely to settle on the back of the sofa.

“come on, then.” he smacks your ass again. “fuck me like a little slut.”

you shake your head and laugh, ready to give it to him even more since he’s begging so much. your grip settles firmly over his corded shoulders and you get onto your toes on the floor. soon, you’re bouncing on it. the sound of your soaking cunt working his shaft steadily and your gasps and his groans-it’s already too fucking much.

“that’s it,” ruben marvels. “take that fucking cock.”

oh, he wants you to take it? you bring your feet up to the sofa, legs a big wider, and grab onto the back of his neck. your pussy grips him, tip to base, tucking and squeezing at the bottom to feel the way the slight curve in his cock presses right to that spot.

“oh, shit, baby.” he needs his hands to come back to control your movements.

if you continue doing that one, he’ll be planning a baby shower in a few months. which, let’s be real, you might end up doing anyway because there’s no way he’s pulling out tonight.

ruben thrusts up to meet you as you come down and you quiver around him. you’re so close again you can feel the rope fraying beneath your hold. full surrender is instant this time, you welcome the fall as he spurs you on.

your cries pierce the room and he’s hugging your lower back in a vice grip while he fucks you into senselessness. another unpredicted shower. you drip down his legs and want to apologize, but his awe and praise shut you off.

can’t believe this is all for me

ruben nestles your body to the sofa and joins you, pulling you face to face. well, face to mask. his eyes look so dark behind them as he drinks you in. mouthful gulps until you’re dripping down his chin.

you grab his jaw and kiss him as he sheaths himself in you again. the leg you have draping over his hips tugs him closer, opening you up some more too. ruben grabs your ass and spreads you out more so.

“yes…nice and deep.” your eyes cross.

“want me to cum, hm?” he tucks himself as far as possible. “right here at the back of your pretty cunt?”

all you can do is groan and nod furiously. if you could speak, though, you would say please, please fill me up. make it yours over and over again, please, i need to feel your warm cum in me.

ruben gets the message. he can see it in the way your eyes glaze over and your back bows into his palm. the way your bottom lips quivers and your grow several degrees warmer, steaming up his flesh as you squeeze and squeeze…

until he’s making good on his promise and shooting all the possible little additions to the diaz clan up your stream. you suck them in, hoping it’s helping and not hurting their efforts, but delighting in the feeling anyway.

ruben hums and lazily strokes into you. having had enough of the mask, you reach up and remove it, fluffing out his messy hair on the way down. his eyes are droopy as he stares at you.

“was that okay? are you alright?” he blinks slowly.

you grin with a light laugh, “i’m so good right now. you were incredible.”

his thumb strokes your cheek, “you’re so perfect.”

that’s one thing you’re never gonna argue with. you lay there for not too long before both drifting asleep in the same position. and when you wake up in a few hours, you meet him stiff and you’re ready to go all over again.

[god-has-entered-my-body]

What time you coming out? - M.H x Reader // pt.1

A/N: Lenas writer debut??? Omg??? This has a bunch of references to fics like the cellophane house (written by the lovely @vinylandcoffeecollection, srsly check out their work!). It's a bit angsty? Not really but angst will come this is a chaptered fic. Based off fallingforyou, hence the title. Thank you @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff for beta reading and putting up with me xx

wc: 11k

part two

February, 2008

“I'm not sure we should be doing this, neither of us is a professional hairdresser in any capacity” 

Mötley Crüe’s ‘Public Enemy #1’ blares through the small speaker set on top of the toilet lid, the music reverberating off the bathroom's tiled walls. Matty attempts to brush the bleach onto your hair, narrowly missing your eyebrow for what felt like the sixth time. You'd prefer to not come out of this situation looking like 90s madonna if you could help it. 

“Could you maybe not get the stuff on my face? I'm not sure I'd look as amazing as I do with bleached brows,” you say, flicking Mattys hand away from your hair, straightening your posture on top of the sink. Your elbow accidently knocks into the faucet and you curse out loud. 

“You're right love, you'd look well hideous without brows” Matty retorts, laughing in your face. He's right, doesn't mean he has to say it.

“At least I have any sort of eyebrows, I'd get yours filled in if I was you.” Now it's your turn to laugh at him, his jaw hitting the floor at your comment. He clutches his chest with his hand, bending over for dramatic effect as if to say: “You wound me”. You fall into each other's arms, fighting over the ipod once again.

The song changes, and Matty resumes his attempts at bleaching your hair properly, failing once again. It had been a stupid, stoned impulse decision to buy the bleach at all. The local drugstore sold it for cheap, and you had some pocket change on you. Matty wanted you to buy the red dye, and you dismissed him immediately, because even he knew you'd look absolutely terrible as a redhead. 

You hum along softly to David Bowie's “Suffragette City”. Bowie was your Idol. The song reminds you of him. Of Matty. It reminds you of when you first met.

—------------------------------------------------------

You were 15, pacing the street late at night, your boyfriend was blowing up your phone. Insincere apologies and “i love you”’s filled your screen. 4 missed calls. Tears were streaming down your face, making you not quite able to see straight. 

The song playing, was blaring in your headphones, almost deafening. The song didn't fit at all to your current situation, but that didn't bother you.

It wasn't long before you reached a bus stop, sitting down. You didn't even know where you were. 

Suddenly, like it was out of your control, you let out broken sobs, no longer silently crying. How fucking embarrassing.

You're not sure how long you’d been sitting there, in the dark, shivering in the cruel November weather. 

You hadn't even noticed the person walking up to you. 

He’d positioned himself in front of you, twisting his neck to get a look underneath your hood.

“You alright?” his voice sounded soft, concerned even. Through muffled sobs, you managed to look up at him. 

He had a thick, fluffy jacket on. Oddly feminine for bloke, and you were pretty sure it was a women's coat. It basically swallowed him whole. You almost laughed at the sight. It almost made you forget about the night's events. 

You’d had yet another fight with your boyfriend, Phillip. The two of you fought a lot, but never like this. Sure, he’d said some hurtful things, things you maybe shouldn't have forgiven as quickly as you did, but he had never, ever, gotten violent with you. Until tonight.

You'd barely registered it when it happened, your brain not properly processing his actions. In the midst of his screaming, he raised his hand. Raised. his. hand. 

It came down with a crash against your left cheek, the sound echoing through the house. Because he did, in fact, have his own flat. Because 24 year olds usually have that. 

Everything hit you at once. You'd managed to pick yourself up off the ground at a speed which would have given even world record holders a run for their money. You didn't bother grabbing anything else, you just needed to get out, now. 

You could faintly hear his voice calling out from behind you, begging you to please, please come back. And what? Let him put his hands on you again? No way. A rare moment of clarity.

Fucking cunt 

You’re brought back to reality by the sound of the stranger's voice. 

“I’m Matty.” he offered his hand, and you shook it. “What're you doing out here in the cold? Its fuckin’ freezing.” He's right, it was cold. It hadn't occurred to you to take your coat with you.

You stuttered out a pathetic response of your name, barely making eye contact with him. A few beats pass before Matty starts ruffling around in his coat pockets. Raising your eyebrows, you watch him.

You can hear the faint sound of keys in his right pocket, and it's not long before he pulls out a joint from his left. It looks crumpled and old, like it had been there for a while. 

“Spliff? It looks like you need it more than me.” He chuckles, and it somehow makes you feel better. He makes a move to sit next to you, and you twitch slightly when his shoulder touches yours. The bench is quite narrow, so you know it's not on purpose. It doesn't bother you quite as much as it should, given he is a stranger. 

He takes out his lighter. It looks old and used, the black plastic chipping off around the top. It looks like it's a miracle it even works. You can see white writing along the side of it. M.H. Initials? His initials? Matty H something.  

He starts burning the tip. Rotating the joint to get an even burn, you watch his movements closely, taking in some of his features. 

His hair was curly but frizzy, you could tell he didn't pay it much mind. His features seemed soft, almost feminine. He was clean shaven, his pale skin a stark contrast to the dark brown of his hair. 

Matty lets you take the first drag, stating “The first hit’s the best, and I've always been a gentleman”, flashing a grin your way. That made you laugh. You take a drag, letting the warm feeling spread through your body.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked timidly, his voice lowering. 

“Absolutely not.” You mutter, looking him straight in the eyes for what seems like the first time that night. A smile.  

—-------------------------------------------------------

“D’you think I'd look good as a blonde? I feel like I'd smash it,” Matty says, inspecting his hair in the mirror behind you. He has gorgeous locks, and you're constantly telling him to try and take care of them, he just doesn't listen. You study his features before giving him an answer.

“Maybe. Either that or you'd look like a bad hooker,” Matty gasps, shoving your shoulder in protest. The movement  makes your elbow bang against the faucet again, but you ignore the pain this time 

“I'll let you know i'd make an amazing hooker, thanks very much,” He proclaims quite loudly, making the both of you burst into a laughing fit. 

You take the brush from Matty, twirling in your hand. George had taught you how to do that. An idea pops into your head. 

“We could give you a few blonde highlights, just to try it out. There's no need for you to go full Elle Woods immediately” A giggle escapes your lips, picturing Matty with long, blonde hair. That’d be a sight. 

“Let's do it, right now,” he breathes, visibly excited.

“Really? Adam’d take the absolute piss out of you, you know.” Matty rolls his eyes obnoxiously before he speaks. “Well then let Adam hold on to his toxic ideas of masculinity, I need a change.” This piques your interest. Matty? Need a change? Weird. 

“What, did some bird break your heart this time? That's new, even for you Matthew,”

You can see him visibly cringe at your use of his full name. You know he hates it, and that is exactly why you do it. Getting a rise out of him is your favorite pastime. 

“Switch with me then,” you say, and he obliges, letting you hop off the counter. You mix up a new batch of bleach and part off his hair into small sections. Little pink hair bands hold his curls in place. You shoot him a look and he nods, giving you the go-ahead. The bleach goes on smoothly, your practiced hand much less prone to mistakes than Mattys.

It doesn't take long before you're both sitting on your bed with foils in your hair. You manage to snap a picture of Matty on your polaroid camera. The light reflects off the foils, distorting the picture slightly. Matty demands to see it, but you decide to keep it for yourself. Can't get everything you want.  

It's Mattys' turn on the music. 

You've decided on a turn system for music when you're together, to avoid the gnarly fights you used to have over who gets to control the ipod.

He picks the latest Deftones album. It's not really your taste, and you tell him as much. 

“S’not my fault your music taste consists of pop trash. Get well soon”, now it's your turn to shove him, and he almost falls off the bed. Your fights over music happened frequently. He insisted on listening to real music, while you couldn't care less if it sounded good. 

The timer dings and you both get up to wash your hair in the sink. Water splashes everywhere, absolutely soaking the bathroom. You don't care. It's just water. 

Towels litter the bathroom floor, soaking up the mess. Matty helps you dry your hair after you promise to help with his. The warm air feels nice on your neck. 

“I like it, it makes me look camp,” Matty states, admiring himself in the mirror. Of course he'd say something like that. 

“You look great, now get dressed, I've messaged Hann. He's picking us up at half 11” 

Adam was one of your best mates, and the only one who had a car. You and Matty were still in school, along with George, another one of your friends. Adam and Ross shared a flat on the outskirts of the city. Adam's mother had gifted him a car for his 18th birthday last year. A bright red Kia. Bumper stickers littered the back, your favorite reading ‘Vehicle of legends” 

Matty had borrowed one of your tops, specifically, a mesh top you'd gotten from Hollister a few weeks prior. It was adorned with a black tank top underneath, paired with the black skinny jeans you're convinced have fused with his legs at this point. 

His hair had dried, dark curls now in contrast with blonde streaks. They framed his face. He looked good. 

You’d gone for a more colorful ensemble, opting for baggy jeans instead of skinny ones. The bottom had already been well ripped up from years of dragging them on the ground. You paired said jeans with a wine-red off the shoulder jumper, the black strap of your bralette peaking out. You’d always loved that color. It reminded you of your favorite flowers, red roses.

The window closed softly, and you silently thanked God you lived on the first floor. Adam was already parked down the road from your house, impatiently waiting for the two of you. The radio was playing as you got in. Matty immediately started going on about how pop music has ruined the music scene and how it was all 'soulless, meaningless droning' and 'had no feeling anymore'. He always did this, and you'd learned to tune it out by then. 

The drive was short, and you arrived at your destination not long after you’d set off. The air smelled like water and wet pavement. It had been pissing down earlier in the day.  

‘The spot’ was an abandoned paper factory, affectionately renamed “Caroline's house” for any eavesdropping parents.  

Carolines had been abandoned for well over 5 years before you started hanging out there, not many knew about it.

The three of you had already made your way through the back entrance. The front had been blocked off years ago, a futile attempt at keeping kids out. There was one specific room you always went to, and that was the office. It had a huge terrace with an amazing view of the city below. The glowing lights made you feel small and irrelevant in the vastness of the world. 

The night was bright under the full moon, making it easy to see outside. Adam always brought an emergency flashlight with him when you went to Carolines. He was the voice of reason in the midst of the chaos. The responsible one. He always made sure everyone got home safe, talked your way out of situations with coppers on multiple occasions, and knew when to tell the bartender to switch drinks to water or juice. You’d always thank him the morning after. 

“What even is your shirt, mate,” Adam asked with a grin on his face. He loved to take the piss out of Matty for his camp-ness. No harm no foul, Matty would do the exact same to him when the opportunity presented itself. Eyeing him up and down, he shook his head and went back to picking at his nails.   

“She let me borrow it for tonight. Looks good, yeah?” Matty shoots back. 

“Yeah sure, that and those white streaks in your hair make you look like a proper girl, you know” 

You have to laugh at his statement, because it does ring true. From a certain distance, anyone could mistake Matty for a woman. 

“You wish I was a girl, it’d make you feel less guilty about your sex fantasies, innit?” Matty cackles at his own words. Adam chucks a lighter at him, and misses. It instead bounces off the railing of the terrace and clatters down onto the ground somewhere behind you. 

That was your cue to take out the small baggy from the pocket of your jeans. Going to look for the lighter Adam had just thrown, you turn around to see he’d already snatched your papes and weed, and started to roll a spliff. 

“Oh come on, I look away for a second and you steal my weed. What, are you too broke to buy your own?” You huffed, sitting down on the floor next to him. 

“Girls don't roll their own spliffs. You should know that by now, love” he said with a wink. 

Cue eye roll. 

“Oh thank you so much, what would I ever do without you, Hann? Fuck off.” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. This was never a display of chivalry, it was simply Adams' way of trying to get under your skin. Your stubborn self wouldn't let him, of course. Flashing him an award winning smile, you lay back on your elbows and eye him as he rolls your joint for you. 

Matty was preoccupied with gathering enough cardboard so he could sit on the floor comfortably. The three of you couldn't be arsed bringing in furniture from the office, so you were left with the cold, unforgiving concrete floor of the terrace to sit on. 

The minutes ticked by and Adam took his sweet time, presenting the spliff with a look of pride. You reach for it, seeing as you already had the lighter in your hand. Instead of handing it to you. Adam shakes his head. 

“Girls dont light their own spliffs, either” You scoff at that, though deciding against smacking him upside the head. You hand him the lighter.  

Mattys giggles can be faintly heard over your bickering, and Adam finally lights up. The distinct earthy smell fills up the air around you. They both let you have the first drag, stating something along the lines of “Ladies first” another eye roll.  

“Fucking wankers”, you mutter under your breath, and finally, you inhale. It hits you almost immediately, a soft, fuzzy feeling that reverberates through your veins into every inch of your body. The two of them let out a laugh at your expression, utterly euphoric. 

Adam takes the next drag, hitting him just as hard as it did you. He leans against the glass sliding door, letting his eyes droop closed. 

“Fucking hell, this is some strong weed.” He lets out a rough cough, “Where’d you even get it from?” 

“Oh y’know, just some guy. Same as always I s’pose,” 

Matty spoke “What, d’you shag him or something? No one just gives out this type of premium stuff on a whim,” 

This makes you chuck the grinder at him. It hits him square in the chest. You hum contentedly, grinning at him in amusement when he doubles over in pain. You bicker back and forth, calling each other names. Adam passes the spliff back to you, and you take another hit. 

Time passes slowly. The clouds slowly reveal more and more of the full moon. It is quite beautiful tonight, you notice. 

Adam produces a bottle of tequila from his ‘gay-ass tote bag’ as Ross calls it. You take turns taking swigs straight from the bottle, Matty managing to spill some onto his mesh top, making quite literally everything reek of alcohol.

You felt good. The high mixed with the healthy amount of tequila made you feel like you were floating. You could tell Matty was just as hammered as you, seeing as he was now straddling Adams lap, trying to kiss him. 

After multiple attempts at getting him off, Matty stood up on his own, stating that he didn't want Hann to pop a boner au cause de his womanly features.   

The three of you laugh and laugh until you finish the spliff. You’d never had a good tolerance for anything, whether it be weed or alcohol. You weren't particularly small, it just always hit you way harder than Adam or Ross. Even Matty managed to pull himself together when the situation called for it. You, however, were stumbling and tripping over your feet the entire walk home. It had been pissing down the entire morning. Puddles littered the streets, not an ideal weather for someone who was too wasted to even have any sort of depth perception.  

Adam had to leave suddenly, picking up a last minute shift at the shop he worked at. It was in the opposite direction of where you came from, leaving you and Matty to walk home. 

It wasn't a long walk, 30 odd minutes or so. It was made significantly longer by your inability to walk in a straight line to save your life. Echoing laughs filled the streets as Matty helped you trudge along. Your pants dragged on the floor as usual, which meant they were also dragging through the numerous puddles, soaking them. 

You stop suddenly, looking down and pouting at the darkened material of your pants. For some inexplicable reason, this made you stomp your feet like a child. Matty broke out in uncontrollable laughter, tears forming in his eyes. You were actually acting like a child.

“I don't know why you insist on wearing those insanely baggy pants. Look at me! My pants don't get wet AND my ass looks phenomenal in skinny jeans” He twirls around you, making you feel slightly dizzy.

“Oh fuck off!! Not everyone is an attention slag like you, have some decency for once in your life!” You retort, shoving him out of your line of sight. Due to your state, Matty quickly catches up to you. 

The steps of your house come quicker than expected. Both of you make your way to the east side of the first floor, where your bedroom window remains slightly ajar. You'd wedged an old shirt between it to keep it from closing all the way. You'd gotten sneaking out down to an art, always knowing when, where and how. Your mother had caught you once. It was your first time. You knew not to make those same mistakes again.

Matty helped you hop onto the windows ledge, his hands grabbing at your sides. While he looked frail, Matty was actually quite strong, lifting you up without breaking a sweat. 

You're sitting on the edge, slightly taller than him now. Peering down, you reach your arms out. The two of you hugged tightly, whispering quiet “goodnight”s and “sleep well”s. Saying goodbye after a night out often felt strangely melancholic, you never wanted the other to leave. 

You've been attached at the hip since that night. He’d convinced you to break up with Phillip, stating he was a bastard who shouldn't be allowed near women ever again.

Matty went on to introduce you to his mates after you’d found out you went to the same highschool. That was nearly 3 years ago now. 

Late nights often make you wonder what would have happened if you hadn't gone to that specific bus stop and met Matty. If he had ignored your crying instead of offering you weed and sitting down next to you. He’d always been charming, like a magnet, he attracted everyone around him. Sure, he was a bit pretentious at times, but everyone has their faults. 

You roll over and try to sleep, slowly coming down from your high. You made a mental note to take it easy next time, maybe pace yourself. It was hard to know your limits when it came to substances, and Matty was the same way. Adam was the ever responsible one, never too drunk or high, always the parent. You were grateful for him, knowing what situations you'd be stuck in if Adam had not been there to smooth things over. 

The tiredness hits you in waves. Glancing at the clock left of your desk, it read 3:26 am. Fuck. You try to ignore the fact that you had to be up in about 4 hours. You close your eyes, welcoming the rest. 

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

A harsh knocking sounded from the direction of your window, scaring the shit out of you. You bolt up, pissed at the disturbance. Turning to face the window, and are met with a familiar grin. Matty. 

It takes all of 5 seconds of him being in your room before you start cursing at him for waking you up like that. He simply shrugs his shoulders and sits in his designated chair. A maroon sofa chair in the corner in front of your bed. It even has M.H carved into the wood, because Matty had some sort of fetish for carving his initials into things. A sign of ownership? It made you wonder. 

Shuffling around the room, you kick your still wet jeans off into the corner, instead picking up a denim skirt. You’d wanted to wear that same red top to school, but seeing as you had fallen asleep wearing it, you chucked it into the same corner as the pants. 

A pink baby tee caught your eye from the chair Matty was sitting in. You silently point at it and he passes it to you. This isn't the first time you've changed in front of him. It didn't happen often, but what was the point of kicking him out? It's not like he was actively staring anyway.

After quickly changing, you go to put on some makeup. Makeup made you feel pretty, pretty enough to go outside. The only person who sees your bare face regularly is Matty. Maybe George. You didn't go anywhere without it.

You can feel Matty looking at you from the corner of your eye. Raising your eyebrows at him, you ask him what he's staring at. 

“D’you reckon i can try some of that?” he gestures vaguely at the eyeshadow brush in your hand “I think i’d look class with my new highlights.” he twirls his hair around his finger, giving you a look.

You look at him skeptically, before breaking out into a smile. Matty smiles back. It's not long before he’s sat in front of you, wincing whenever the brush makes contact with his eyelid. You tell him hes just not used to it, and to just stay still, for fucks sake. 

Once you're done, you take a step back to admire your work. You have to admit, he looks good. Really good. His eyes were lined with a dark purple shadow, making them appear slightly bigger. He takes his fingers, slightly smudging the out corners, giving him a catty look. 

“I think you might even look even better than me,” you say, looking him up and down. This is one of those rare moments where you can't read Mattys' expression at all. Finally, he opens his mouth

“No one could look better than you, trust me,”  

A beat of silence before he speaks again

“I do look ravishing though, d’you reckon Adam'll like this more than the highlights?” He always manages to make himself laugh. Then in typical Matty fashion, he pulls out a beat up looking joint from the pocket of his too tight jeans. 

“Fancy a spliff?” 

“Matty, for christ's sake, we have school in about an hour, and you want to smoke now?” 

“It's the only true way to get through Mr. Henderson's maths class, you know it'll be unbearable if we don't.” translation: please smoke with me. He gives you a look, because you know he's right. 

It was too late to protest. He’d already made his way to open your window, knowing how much you hate stinking up your room.

An exasperated sigh leaves your lips, and you find your place next to him. 

The wind and rain had calmed down, so Matty had no difficulty lighting it. The smell filled your senses, almost overwhelming you. You were thankful for the fresh air.

He placed the spliff between your lips, watching you intently as you inhaled. Your orange lip gloss had rubbed off the filter, and transferred onto his lips. The weed wasnt as strong as last nights, but still, the sight of Mattys glossed lips made you break out into a fit of giggles. Time seemed irrelevant up until the point you had to run to catch your bus. Sweaty and out of breath, you sat down in your usual spot. 

You can hear comments and insults being thrown at Matty from the back of the bus, but neither of you paid much mind. Matty was high as a kite, and too loopy (hungover) from the previous night to offer up one of his witty retorts. Instead, both of you gave them the bird from over the seat.

Matty was leaning against you, his arms hooked into yours. Neither of you spoke, listening to the soft rumbling of the bus. You stank of weed, anyone could smell it on you. Remembering a perfume bottle in your handbag, you take it out and douse yourself, as well as Matty in it. 

“Oh for fucks sake, now everything smells like Jimmy Choo Illicit!” Matty whined, burying his head in his hands. “Couldn't you have picked a manlier perfume? I'm already walking a very thin line with all of this” He vaguely gestures to himself. 

“Would you rather get kicked out after coming to school smelling like a fucking dispensary? Think ahead, Matthew!” He cringes visibly

“No need to get out the full government name, jesus” he shuffles up against you, and you can see his eyes are a light shade of red. There's no way the two of you would get through first lesson unnoticed. 

George was already waiting for you guys at your stop. Greeting him with a hug, you try to avoid eye contact, yet somehow, he knows. 

“Hey, you alright-?” He cranes his neck to get a better look at your face 

“Are you–? Are you high??” He laughs out loud, smacking your arm to stabilize himself. You shoot him a death stare, but you can feel a laugh coming too. Matty let out a sarcastic haha before kicking George as a way to say get on with it, we have class.

The walk to the room through the sea of people in the halls feels like a claustrophobic hell. B.O ridden teenagers rub up against the three of you, some even (quite violently) shoving past. 

It's a miracle you make it without Matty losing his mind at one of the hecklers. School was actual hell for Matty, and by proxy, you. Insults were thrown at him without a second thought, and the makeup he’d adorned today surely didn't help the comments.

He never let it truly get to him. He didn't care, and that's what you loved so much about him. This part of the city was set back about fifteen years in terms of acceptance and progressivity, so his flowery backpack and femininity wasn't exactly welcomed.

Adam had always taken the piss out of him for his outfits since they were boys, but he never, ever meant it seriously. They were like brothers, those two, and no amount of shit from other people (irrelevants, as Matty would put it) would be able to break them apart. 

The way the room was set up, there were six tables of four, with two people always facing another two. You had sat in the seat next to George, with Matty sitting (well, more like laying) across the other two chairs opposite you. Mr. Henderson had given up on trying to get Matty to sit right a long time ago, instead just flat out ignoring him. It was always easier to fail than to teach. 

“Fucking poofter, that one,” you can hear someone saying from behind you. You know they mean Matty. 

Matty blows them both a kiss before getting flipped off by the shorter one. He loved taking the piss out of the people who insulted him, throwing them off. 

George questions mattys makeup, and you tell him it was his idea. George had always supported Matty, using his insanely tall stature to fend off anyone giving him a hard time. 

The lesson was going by at a snail's pace, with Matty being his usual self, interrupting at every possible moment. It was so obvious he was off his tits, and Mr. Henderson looked suspicious. A particularly loud laugh from George had prompted him to throw you all out. You couldn't care less, getting up immediately.

Matty picked up his things from the floor, making a show out of bending over in front of the two boys that had insulted him earlier. They both scrunch their faces in disgust, muttering under their breaths. A giggle escapes you as they stare daggers.

“Fucking cunt,” one of them says, and now it’s your turn to blow them a kiss. 

The three of you trudge down the halls, slowly but surely coming down from your highs. George suggests going to Ross and Adams flat, seeing as it's just a few bus stops away from the school. They share a flat above a Sainsburys, which is optimal for late night munchies. Adam even works there, so there's always opportunities to sneak a packet of crisps or a can of cola. 

The bus stinks of sweat and mildew, as did all buses in britain. You get used to the stench after a while, your legs propped up onto George and Mattys laps. The back seat was always your favorite, giving you ample space to stretch a bit. You and George share headphones while Matty takes a quick power nap. He always lets you pick the music, and today it was Radioheads ‘No Surprises’. The music plays softly as buildings and trees pass by the window. The day was quite sunny, the light reflecting off of the windows of houses and offices. You'd sobered up enough to be able to think clearly by now. 

These days were the best. They felt calm, like you could forget every other fucked up thing in your life. Your mother, your coursework. Nothing else existed in your little bubble except the people you were with. It felt peaceful, like a breath of fresh air. 

Matty stirred awake as the bus halted to a stop, yawning for dramatic effect. He loved to exaggerate, ever the performer. George was the quiet, brooding type, trying desperately to go unnoticed, which proved rather difficult. Although he was barely coming up on his 18th birthday, he had grown to a staggering 6 '4, with a voice at least 3 or so octaves deeper than Mattys. 

It had proven useful, you aways had someone to send into the smoke shop to buy fags or liquor, even if it always took a pep talk to even get him through the front door. George was convinced he didn't look older, even though he had never been carded. Ever. 

Usually it was Adam who bought it for you, even though both Matty and Ross were also already 18. Matty had already been banned from most liquor stores in the area, so he proved rather useless in situations needing a bit of booze. 

Mattys violent knocks against the flat door brought you back to reality

“C’MON OPEN UP ITS US,” his voice booms through the hallway. You can hear banging and shuffling coming from the other side of the door. It's so obviously Ross bumping into every available surface because he hadn't turned on the light yet. He was an avid day sleeper, mostly working night shifts. A particularly loud crash is followed by glass breaking. 

Matty taps his foot impatiently, waiting for the door to finally open. Ross emerges, looking disgruntled and tired of Mattys shit. 

“Mate, tell me, what possessed you to come knocking about at this hour, don't you have school-? I swear you're going to be the end of me one day” he rubs his eyes, getting the sleep out of them before moving out of the way to let the three of you in. 

“First of all, it's like 11am, so not exactly the ungodly hour you were describing,” Matty starts “Second of all, we’ve been kicked out of class, so where better to come than here?” 

The inside of the flat reeks of cigarettes and laundry detergent. Ross refuses to smoke on the terrace, deeming it too cold even in the middle of summer. Adam always smokes on the terrace, scared of staining the walls like in those addiction documentaries. A futile attempt, but at least he tries. Matty immediately lights a fag, sighing happily when the nicotine hit his system. School had always been an endurance test for him. Getting him to sit still for 2 hours without going for a cigarette proved nearly impossible. He was already itching by the 45 minute mark.

“What did you even do to get kicked out before 12?” He looks at George, who tells him exactly what happened with tears of laughter in his eyes. Matty rolls his before sitting down on the comforter located to the left of the TV, ashing into one of the various ashtrays situated around the house. George sits on the sofa next to Ross, and you make your way to your favorite spot, the table. Sitting cross legged on the table made you all face each other, which you quite liked. 

“Brew?” George asks, looking up from his Ipod. Everyone nods, and he gets up to put on the kettle. Idle conversation fills the air, and Matty starts chatting about the new “groundbreaking” Metallica album. Matty was, if anything, a music snob. No one could stop him raving on about albums or artists, whether he was praising or criticizing them. Once he started, you couldn't stop him to save your life.

Minutes tick past when George brings back mugs of tea. Mattys mug has got the words “I ❤️ cum” on it. Ross has his usual Macclesfield Town mug, and you and George have the plain green ones Adam bought in an attempt to make the flat seem somewhat civilized. 

Hours pass and Matty finally shuts up. You end up on top of him, sitting on the arms of the comforter. You're all watching Skins on the telly, and Mattys hand makes its way to your back, keeping you steady. He’d always been touchy like that, so it didn't bother you. You look at the sofa and see Ross passed out, drooling onto George's jumper. George, polite as ever, lets him sleep. It was a miracle Ross hadn't started snoring already. 

You suggest to Matty that maybe it was time to get going, seeing as you lived on the other side of the city. George's place was right around the corner, so he decided to stay and look after Ross a bit before Adam got home from his shift. Britain's sweetheart. 

Getting up as quietly as possible, making your way towards the door. Ross stirs as Matty almost knocks over his mug. The two of you make eye contact, silently laughing at Ross’ position, basically on top of George. He flipped you off, rolling his eyes and reaching for the remote, turning down the telly.

It was still fairly dark inside, so gathering everything proved a bit of a challenge. The curtains were drawn shut, the yellow material of them painting the house in a warm yellow hue. 

You had spotted Mattys flowery bag in the corner next to the stove, and grabbed it along with a bottle of cola that was set on top of the kitchen counter. Hydration was important, after all, even if you knew Adam would be livid that you were stealing his shit again. What are mates for?    

Matty grabbed both of your coats, mouthing “lets go,” before making his way towards the front door. 

The bright light of the hallway burns your eyes. How do they survive coming out here when that fucking flat is always so dark? You think to yourself. You wonder if Ross has a vitamin D deficiency from the inherent lack of sunshine in his life, yourself excluded. 

The bus ride home is rowdier, filled with kids from surrounding schools. The both of you hid in a corner towards the front, away from the dickheads that usually sat in the back row. You were both too tired to deal with anyone but each other. 

He was right, everything did smell like jimmy choo now, and maybe you shouldn't have sprayed so much. 

His hand wanders to his eyes, rubbing a bit of the eyeshadow off.

“Does it still look alright?” he asks, looking up from your lap. It had smudged a bit, melted off after a full day of wear. It's not like you used your expensive waterproof stuff, after all.

“You look fine, pretty actually,” You give him a tired smile, stroking his hair absentmindedly 

“Can you even call a guy pretty? Isn't that, like, inherently degrading?” Matty mutters, a grin spreading onto his face. 

“It's only degrading if you let it be. You Matthew Healy, are pretty. Pretty like a girl” 

A laugh escapes you, imagining Matty as a woman. Knowing him, he’d be into it. 

“Does it bother you? Y’know, me being feminine and wearing makeup.” The question surprises you. It's a rare thing seeing Matty this vulnerable. He doesn't care what other people think, but he does care what you think. 

“You know I don't care, I actually prefer you this way.” you assure him.

“Though it's still my mission to convince you that the backpack is not the move you think it is.” 

That earns you a frown from Matty. “It is! I'll let you know the lady at the store told be it very in this time of year” its always funny watching him get defensive over his fashion choices, even if he knows he’s fucked up and its hideous. 

“Yeah maybe it's trendy... for 8 year old girls! But you do you mate, don't let me judge you,” that gets you an elbow to the gut. 

The walk home is one you always take together. Arms hooked into each other, walking, sharing headphones. It's your turn on the music, putting on ‘This Charming Man’ by the smiths. 

“You know, Morrissey sort of reminds me of you. You're really similar in your campness”  Matty choked on air, shooting you a faux offended look. 

“Did you seriously call Morrissey camp? He'd have your head for that.” 

“You're both attention slags, so there's at least one similarity.” Matty doesn't say anything, knowing your words do, in fact, ring true. Matty loves attention, and man, is good at getting it. 

He draws people to him like moths to a flame. Always the loudest, always the most interesting. 

That one saying; “You can't be the prettiest girl at the party, but you always be the drunkest” is a personification of Matty. He tips back wine glass after wine glass, not caring about the stains on his shirt or the red ring around his lips. He then makes it a poor Hanns job to make sure he doesnt get into a scrap with three much bigger guys (which actually did happen last summer outside of a pub in london. Matty got out scot free, while Adam nearly suffered a heart attack). 

You hug Matty goodbye, giving him a peck on the cheek. 

You always dreaded coming home. 

They say your biggest critic is your mind, but yours was your mother. You knew she had already gotten a call from the school saying you cut class. The moment you stepped into the living room, the yelling started. “How can you do this” and “What are you even doing with your life” turned into “Look at yourself, you look like a whore and you're going to school like that?” or “Were you out with that little gay boyfriend of yours again?”

You try to tune it out, not letting it get to you. She's been like that for as long as you can remember, never letting up for even just a second. You weren't the best kid, but she sure isn't helping you “get on the right track” as she liked to say.

Tears well up in your eyes when you finally shut your bedroom door. Your first instinct is to call Matty. He picks up after two rings, immediately hearing the quiver in your voice. 

He tells you he’ll be there as soon as he can. 

Minutes pass by slowly until you hear a familiar, although uncharacteristically soft, knock at your window. Matty.

Your puffy eyes meet his and he can tell you’d been crying. No words were exchanged as he took you into your arms, his hands soothingly stroking your hair as you let out muffled sobs into his chest. It broke his fucking heart to see you like this. You were extensions of each other, the others' pain was always your own.    

“It's all so shit. Why cant she just be normal one fucking time.” your voice audibly shakes, partially out of anger and partially out of exasperation. 

“I know i suck, I know I'm a bad daughter but-,” Matty cuts you off. “You’re fucking amazing, you know that?” His words only make you cry harder. 

He holds you close, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, the sound of his voice similar to the way he spoke to you that night. His hands feel cold against your skin, and you know he’d rushed to your house without grabbing his coat. You look up at him, seeing his hair was unruly, curls falling into his face. The blonde highlights littered his dark hair and he ran his hand through them, brushing them to the side to get a better look at you. 

“D’you want to sit down? We can listen to music. Whatever you want, and won't even comment on how shit it is, promise,” He knew you didn't want to talk about it then, you never did.  

You sit in silence, your face still in his chest, staining the light blue material of his shirt. You quietly apologize, knowing how much he loves that shirt. He tells you to shut up, and that it didn't matter. 

He had gotten it in Barcelona at some tourist shop for 50 quid. Insane price for a tshirt that just said “Barcelona” on it, but he held it dear to his heart. It reminded him of his childhood summers. 

“There's a bottle of um…,” you trail off, gesturing to the second drawer of your nightstand. Matty understands, and reaches over you to open it. The drawer is filled with half eaten granola bars, bracelets, jewelry, the odd vape for when it was too cold to go outside. Matty always took the piss out of you for having them, saying they were ‘so fucking girly it hurt’. After a second of rummaging, he took out a half drunk bottle of Bacardi. It always sat in your nightstand for when you needed it, and you definitely needed it now. 

“Only you'd have a giant bottle of rum in your nightstand,” Matty says softly, searching your expression. The corners of your mouth tug upwards at his words, and you crack a smile.   

He opens it for you, and grabs an abandoned cup from your desk. The cup he had gifted you on your 17th birthday. It was covered in flowers and stars, very Matty. Very you. Pouring a healthy amount into the glass, he hands it to you.  

“To shitty situations” He raises it, clinking it against your cup. He takes a swig straight from the bottle. You down the whole thing in one go, wincing as the alcohol burns down your throat. 

“You feel better?” he asks, pouring more into your cup. You nod, before taking another drink. “I just need to get drunk and forget,” you sigh. Matty starts to speak again.

“That's an unhealthy way to go about it. Soon enough I'll be picking you up from corners because you can't handle your liquor. It's a recipe for alcoholism, innit?” you cackle at his words prompting Matty to raise his eyebrows at you.  

“Oh come off it!,” How many times have you been so drunk you couldn't find your own dick if you tried. Sort yourself out before criticizing my drinking habits.” you scoff  

You decide ‘Wonderwall’ by Oasis is the right soundtrack for the night. You lay down next to Matty, your shoulders and thighs touching each other. You look up fondly at the dozens of yellow stars littering your ceiling. Reminiscent of your early childhood, you couldn't bear to take them down. You still felt like a child, your heart yearning for the same innocence you no longer possessed. A distinct naïveté you missed dearly. After your breakup with Phillip you'd realized that the world wasn't all it was cut out to be. People wanted, and they took. It didn't matter to them if they hurt others, because as long as they were satiated, nothing else mattered. 

You turn to your left, draping your arm over Mattys stomach. He let out a deep breath, raising his right arm to draw light circles onto your back. His nails had grown out longer than usual, but the sharpness of them was comforting through the thin material of your tank top. The edge of your small twin bed dug into your back. 

The two of you laid like that for hours before sleep took over your body. The stars on the ceiling blurred as your eyes started to shut. You let out a soft hum, settling into Matty even more, holding him close.

You don't know how long he stayed, but he was gone when you woke up. You feel a sticky note attached to your forehead, the glue rubbing off on your skin. You could barely read Mattys erratic handwriting. The note read: you fell asleep, hope your hangover isn't as bad as mine. left you some Advil on your dresser xx. 

Your hand reached next to you, feeling two tablets. You wash them down with water from the sink. Your cell phone lights up with a text from George 

“We’re meeting at Hanns flat, be there in 30,”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The windows were rolled up, trapping the smoke inside. Your eyes were glazed over, barely able to make out Ross’ face in front of you. Watching as Matty took another hit, you made a ‘give it here’ motion at the zoot, prompting him to hand it to you. Rhianna blared through the radio, a far cry from Adams usual taste in music, but no one seemed to care. Even Matty had managed to keep his mouth shut, instead moving his head in time with the music. 

Adam was sitting in the driver's seat, as always. He’d never let anyone else drive his girl, not even Ross. He was insanely protective over his car, even if it was an old piece of junk. 

George was in the passenger seat, holding a pink, polka dotted ashtray in his hand. The colorful ceramic proved quite the contrast against his dark clothes and messy blonde hair. It was a gift from his older sister, and the only ashtray he ever used. 

You were perched in the middle seat, your elbows on the console between Adam and George. Matty sat on your right, and Ross on your left.  

“No joke, I once had a bird offer to give me a footjob. Can you imagine that?” Adam spoke loudly, almost too loud. Ross let out a disgusting snort, the mental image of Adam getting a footjob making him properly lose it. You make a face. 

“That can't feel good at all, innit? Aren't the soles of feet rough?” you ponder. “Only if you have George's hobbit feet, that is,” Matty said, ducking to avoid yet another lighter being chucked at him. You were going to run out of lighters at this rate. 

“I'll show you hobbit feet you fucking cunt,” George retorted, sticking out his tongue like a child.

“I had a girl once who wanted me to properly bite down on her nipples, like hard. Can't imagine how much that would've hurt.” you share. She’d been quite the odd one up until she was in your bed, so you were already expecting some sort of weird kink. Nipple biting was definitely not on that list. Not that you were kink shaming.  

George spoke first: “What d’you mean girl? You're telling me you've been with girls?” You raise your eyebrows at him. “Erm, yeah? Didn't I tell you-?” Everyone shook their heads except Matty. You had already told him this story months before, the both of you laughing at your misfortune. Smiling at the fond memory, you meet Ross’ eye. 

“We didn't know you were like, proper gay,” he says quietly, not wanting to sound abrasive. You suck in a deep breath before answering. “I'm not proper anything, and besides,” you point at Matty sitting next to you, “This one’s snogged loads of blokes.”  A collective “What???” fills the car, with everyone's eyes now on Matty. 

“What if I have? It's not my job to notify you of all my sexual endeavors, innit?” Matty looks slightly uncomfortable, giving you a look. You frown at him, and he shakes his head. Slight signs of a smile linger on his face. It's fine he mouths at you, resting his arm on your shoulder. 

The three of them talk loudly over each other, with Ross asking some very explicit questions on the mechanics of gay sex. 

“How do you even, like, properly shag? It's not like you have anything you can shove into the other girl,” Jesus christ. 

Matty taps Ross’ shoulder, bringing the attention to his hands. He brings them up to his mouth, sticking his tongue out between the V-shape his fingers had made. Wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, the whole demonstration makes Ross visibly cringe. 

The car suddenly starts. Adam makes the short drive to Carolines, stating that the hotbox was getting to be too much for him. George has a go at his age, calling him an old man. Hann was in fact, about 2 and a half years older than George, and a solid year older than the rest of you. Old man was right. 

You had rolled down the window on Mattys side, hoping some fresh air would help Adams driving skills. The erratic swerving had begun to make you sick. 

Finally trugding up the stairs to the terrace, Matty says something about it being too fucking cold. Ross says “That's the price of being built like a male Kate Moss,” and Matty nearly shoves him down the stairs. 

It is colder than usual, and you had opted for a dark gray zip up, the material hugging you tightly. You were pretty sure it was Mattys. A pair of green wash jeans hung low, revealing the lightning bolt tattoo on your right hip bone. It was a copy of Bowie's on the cover of ‘Aladdin Sane’. You had gotten it done by another one of your mates, Rome, who was an aspiring tattoo artist. It looked a bit shit, the lines slightly crooked, but it was yours. 

You had convinced George and Ross to carry the sofa from the office onto the terrace. They were the tallest and strongest, and Mattys arms would have snapped like twigs if he tried to carry anything, you said to them. George laughed his octave defying laugh, while Ross let out an annoyed grunt, shoving past you. 

Adam was right behind them, carrying a small wooden coffee table. “For you- I know how much you hate sofas,” he says quietly. You called him a softy, but inevitably thanked him for bringing it out. He had his rare sweet moments, and you appreciate them 

Once you had all settled, you took out your tobacco and papes, starting to roll your first cigarette of the night. You honestly needed a break from all the weed, because jesus. 

Matty let out a groan, taking the piss out of you for bringing all that instead of just buying industrials. 

“I know you think you're better than us for rolling, it's quite pretentious.” he sucks in a breath before talking, moving his hands erratically “Don't tell me it ‘tastes better’ because that's simply bollocks, it all tastes the same!” 

“Pretentious? Her? That's rich coming from someone who raves on about William Burroughs like anyone knows who is!” Matty looks hurt, and you give Ross a look that says you really don't know who William Burroughs is?

The conversation continued without you, too preoccupied with rolling to add anything. All was well until George decided to open his giant mouth again. 

“If you're not fully gay,” he started, “how do we know you're not secretly crushing on any of us?” he raised his eyebrows, looking at you expectantly.

You let out a snort, it slowly morphing into laughter until you look at him, his expression deadly serious. 

“You can’t actually mean that?” your voice is slightly hoarse. “For all we know, you could be harboring secret affection for Matty with the amount of times you’ve slept in the same bed.” 

Mattys perks up at this, shooting George a glare that could kill a man. He told him??? 

You don't know what came over you. Maybe it was the weed, maybe you were just groggy from the lingering hangover. You lick the cig closed, setting down next to the others. Uncrossing your legs, you get up and walk towards Matty. You can see the grin plastered onto his face, and he is definitely not sober.

You stumbled over Adam's foot, kicking it out of the way. Ross moved away from Matty, giving you some space. 

The terrace was dark, but the moonlight illuminated some of Mattys features. Specifically, his eyes. They seemed to glow, following your every step toward him. I'll show you secret affection you thought to yourself when your hand made contact with Mattys face. The stubble on his chin scratched your fingers. He never could grow a beard, and the faint shadow was as long as it would get. 

He sat with his legs spread, skin peaking out through the single rip in his jeans. His arms rested on the sofas back, splaying out to the side. He wore a black v-line jumper, the knit of it almost see-through.  

The makeup from the previous day was still smudged on his face, giving him a rockstar-esque look. The eyeshadow framed his eyes, glittering in the faint light. Your hands cupped his face, lightly stroking his jaw. The grin had been wiped off his face the moment you had settled between his legs, kneeling on the edge of the sofa. 

You didn't think, just moved, your lips smashing against each other. It seemed to take Matty by surprise, and it even took him a second before he kissed you back. One thing nagged at you. Why did you like it?

There was no time to think when you heard George wolf whistle at the both of you. 

You want a show, I'll give you a show you thought, slipping in your tongue and taking over the kiss. He seemed into it, but then again, Matty would fuck anything with a pulse. You smile against his mouth at the thought. It suddenly felt hot, even though you were outside. His hand snaked its way into your hair, tugging slightly. This didn't feel platonic. Was it?

“Alright, alright, we didn't sign up for a porno,” Ross says, his hand covering his mouth. You were the one who broke the kiss. Matty let out a soft groan when you parted, loud enough for only you to hear. His eyes pierced yours, and you moved to get off of him. 

Your heart thrummed against your ribcage, and you felt dizzy. What the fuck?

You wiped your mouth, your lipgloss having smeared all over your face. Wiping the back of your sticky hand against the sofa, you turned and walked back to your spot on the table. 

“See! Absolutely no ‘secret affection’ as George so kindly put it.” you say to the group, going back to your pile of fags, taking one and lighting it. If you had looked at Matty instead of being preoccupied with Hanns bickering about the prissy new manager, you would have noticed a faint shade of red caressing his cheeks. He felt around for his own cigarettes, and took out a pack of parliaments. Spotting the lighter next to you, he reached for it, lighting the cig as he inhaled the smoke eagerly.

It was already half two when the five of you finally piled back into Hanns car. The prominent stench of weed made you scrunch up your nose. You decide to light a cigarette in the car despite various protests and threats to your life if you even dared to ash onto the leather seats. Switching seats with Matty, you ash out the window instead, resting your head against the rim of the car. 

Ross and George were having yet another meaningless debate on whether mixing ketchup and mayo was a cardinal sin or totally acceptable. Every other word was an insult, and you knew they would never come to an agreement, ever.

You had already established that you’d be sleeping over at Mattys, saving Adam time and petrol not having to drive both of you home separately. Denise and Tim were out on a press tour, so he had the house to himself. 

His room was dark, the curtains drawn shut. If you knew Matty, you knew he hated the big light with a burning passion. Instead, a small lamp was turned on in the corner, illuminating the various posters that littered his wall. Band posters, prints, tapestries, the occasional quote. Everything screamed Matty

His room was filled with so much music. CD’s, vinyls, even the odd cassette tape. His purple record player sat on top of a dresser next to his desk, surrounded by various small trinkets of his. It was his prized possession, a gift from his mother for his 14th birthday.  

You had already helped yourself to a cola from his fridge downstair. His house was huge, way bigger than your own. Your parents weren't actors, after all. The walls of his room were stained towards the corners, just another side effect of Mattys near constant chain smoking. His bed was big, and you both fit comfortably on it. The wardrobe next to it had a pile of your own clothes in it, but none to sleep in. Your eyes dart around the room looking for one of his to wear, landing on his bright pink durex t-shirt. He had worn it once to school, promptly getting kicked out of literature class by a very conservative Mrs. Sexton.

Soft music was playing in the background as you unloaded your bag onto Matty’s insanely cluttered desk. Out came multiple pens, makeup, not one, not two, but three lighters, and finally, makeup wipes.    

You sat on the ground in front of his full length mirror, wiping at your eyes and face. Matty was making the bed, giving the both of you each your own duvet, a must after too many fights over the blanket. You weren't a peaceful sleeper, constantly tossing and turning, occasionally even kicking Matty in the back. 

Washing your face, you hear the bathroom door click open. Matty went and sat on the closed toilet lid next to you.

“Hand me my toothbrush, will you? And some toothpaste.” he asked, stretching his hand out. You do, even wetting the toothbrush for him. 

He sat there, brushing his teeth and flipping through a recent issue of playboy while you put moisturizer on, and then a serum. 

“I dont get how you can be arsed to put all that shit on your face, it takes way too long,” his comment makes you roll your eyes at him in the reflection. 

“Not everyone is naturally blessed with clear skin like you, people like me have to put effort into their appearance, knobhead.” A wave of insecurity hits you as you inspect the acne on your face. 

You had been a chronic face picker in your early teenage years, and the consequences of that were gnarly acne scars covering most of your face. They were not prominent, but they were there. 

Matty was fortunate enough to have had maybe three zits ever, his clear skin the stuff of dreams. 

Matty watches you pick yourself apart in the mirror. He hated when you did that. It made his heart ache in his chest. He wished you could see what he saw. What did he see?

“You’re quite beautiful, really,” he says, making eye contact with you through the mirror. You’re taken aback, not quite sure how to respond. You open your mouth to speak. 

“Oh bugger off,” you say, your voice breathy and annoyed. You didn't want to sound annoyed, it just came out that way. 

Matty raises both his hands in defeat, and spits the toothpaste into the toilet bowl, flushing. The hairbands sitting on the bathroom counter eventually end up in your hair, holding together two braids on either side of your face. You stare at the mirror one more time, examining yourself. The pink fabric of your (well, Mattys) shirt clung to you like it did Matty. Taking off your bra, you go back into his room. He had changed into a loose Kiss t-shirt and black boxers. The light of the corner lamp helped you find your phone, sitting on the nightstand next to you. 

The atmosphere was calm, calm enough that you’d almost forgotten about the kiss. Almost. 

Matty reached over to turn the lamp off, lighting a candle for light. Cinnamon. 

“You know it's dangerous to sleep with candles lit? We could catch on fire and die,” Matty had rolled over on his side, now facing you. A grin spread onto his face. 

“If it kept me from ever seeing Hanns ugly mug ever again, i’d gladly let cinnamon spice scented flames burn me to death,” 

You giggle at his words. Poor Adam, always taking the worst of Mattys jokes, if you could even call them that. Accepting his decision to keep the candle lit, you pull the blanket over your shoulders. Your eyes shut and you can feel butterflies in your stomach. Butterflies, really? Jesus fucking christ. 

You're scared to open your eyes, scared to even look at Matty. Maybe it was a mistake. He's your best mate. That kiss didn't mean anything, especially not to him.

A million thoughts race through your head, and you shove them into a small corner of your mind. Ignore ignore ignore, it didn't mean anything. He's just some wanker who picked you up at a bus stop three years ago and somehow became your best mate. He's just some guy you share a bed with sometimes. He's just some guy who lights your spliffs for you. He's just some guy who you kissed on a terrace overlooking the city. 

Fuck.