#anyways. twirls my hair i feel insane i feel insane i feel insane

[fullmetall]

still thinking about this!

yknow what. i could throw ed’s ass into the hunger games i think

[gorespawn]

also while we're here i would like to share the two iterations of tumblr user gorespawn that have existed since i abandoned this blog back in like early 2021. Who wants me

[todayisafridaynight]

RGG POSTED AOKI SHUT UP

[aemondsbabe]

Taunt

obviously, i feel very normal and chill about ewan's new performance in saltburn. anyways lmao this is my version of michael gavey from the vibes i got from him in the 5 seconds he's in the trailer! i have no idea if this is accurate to how he is truly portrayed in the movie! if the movie comes out and i'm totally wrong, then i don't care bc i got to have fun writing about a cheeky lil oxford student!!

summary: you're nearly failing statistics and the student your professor asks to tutor you seems to gain a sick satisfaction from seeing you squirm; he hates you...or so think.

pairing: michael gavey x reader

warnings: mature, 18+ (minors, do not enter!!!) no use of Y/N, afab reader, profanity, smut, piv smut, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), dom/sub, brief daddy kink (literally one mention), dirty talk, dumbification, humiliation (only a bit), size kink if you squint, mild angst but happy ending, choking i guess (barely), public sex (they're alone but like it's still public lmao), brief discussions of math -- please let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 10.5k (dear lord)

a/n: baby's first fic omg! if you enjoy this one and want to see more from me, please feel free to send in requests! (GoT, HoTD, Stranger Things, Marvel, etc!)

PRAISE | Taunt Part 2

MAKING AMENDS | Bonus

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

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“Right, so,” Professor Davies began, pulling a thick textbook off the shelf next to his desk, “Since we’ve only just returned from Easter holiday, I thought I’d go easy on you today.” 

A few quiet groans could be heard around the room, a couple students turning to look at one another with grimaces; in the few weeks you’ve been in Professor Davies’s class, he’s never once gone easy on you. With a small sigh, you shuffle through your spiral notebook until you come to a blank page. 

“D’you think you’ll go to the party this weekend?” Louise whispers, leaning over closer to you as she twirls a pen around in her fingers, “I heard this one is supposed to be fucking insane.”

“Like any of Felix’s parties aren’t insane?” You whisper back, smirking as you doodle a small flower on the corner of a page of paper, “Of course I’ll be there,” you murmur, watching as Professor Davies writes an intricate formula on the chalkboard, “I could really use a break, anyway…I’ve been so stressed recently.”

“Christ…” A boy, in the row of desks in front of you scoffs, just barely shaking his head as he copies down the formula, his handwriting sharp and choppy. You feel blood rush to your cheeks as you narrow your eyes, staring intently at his sandy hair. You didn’t really know him, this being your only class with him, but you’d seen him around campus, regularly passing by him in the halls. Oxford may be a large university, but when you’re on campus everyday, you begin recognizing familiar faces. 

He didn’t run in the same crowds as you at all, and you got the distinct impression that he looked down on you and the rest of your friends, but you knew his name – Michael and that he was incredibly smart, his hand promptly shooting into the air anytime Professor Davies asked a question. In the few weeks you’d been in the same statistics class, you had yet to see him get a question wrong, watching as he grinned, cocky, everytime he was praised for correctly solving even the most intricate of formulas. 

You, on the other hand, couldn’t be more the opposite, always shying away and praying not to hear Professor Davies call your name in his deep, baritone voice every time his eyes scanned the crowd, looking for a volunteer, or victim, more like. While Michael clearly enjoyed the class, practically glowing with an arrogant confidence as soon as he walked into the wood paneled lecture hall, you were simply here to check it off as a requirement of your major, hoping to survive the class with a C and nothing more. 

It was annoying, you wouldn’t deny that, the way that smug smirk seemed to be permanently etched onto his face, how that stupid taunting glimmer was an ever-present fixture of his blue eyes — blue eyes which, seemingly, always managed to find their way to you, one way or another. 

His attention was intimidating at first, his cold stare leaving you unsure of what exactly his intention was. Was he trying to challenge you? Trying to determine if he knew you from somewhere else? A small part of you, a naive part, hoped that his staring was meant to be affectionate; he was cute, you’d admit it! Always showing up to class in cozy knit sweaters, his wavy hair still ruffled and untidy as if he’d just gotten out of bed, gold rimmed glasses perched atop a strong nose.

You quickly tear your gaze away from the back of Michael’s head, biting your bottom lip as you begin copying down the problem on the chalkboard, pausing briefly when you see, from the corner of your eye, his head turn as he glances at you over his shoulder. You felt your cheeks flush despite yourself, that small, sanguine voice in the back of your head cheering. 

“Now, then,” Professor Davies booms, dropping the textbook down on his desk with a cacophonous thud before sweeping his eyes across the classroom, “A bit of review before we really dive in…” He continues, pacing around the front of the room as he explains the various parts and pieces of the equation on the board. 

“What do you think you’ll wear?” Louise asks, leaning over once more to whisper in your ear, you can smell her signature floral perfume on her hair, “I was thinking I’d do that new blue-ish dress I got, you know, the strappy one?”

“Might still be too cold for strappy,” you whisper back, half listening to the professor drone on as you continue doodling on your paper, pausing every few minutes to jot down a few haphazard notes, “I was just thinking I’d do a jumper, probably a skirt and tights–”

Suddenly, you hear Professor Davies call your name, your cheeks practically stinging as blood rushes to your face. Sitting up straighter, you finally find the courage to meet his stern gaze, “Since you seem all too eager to share your thoughts,” He continues slowly stalking towards you across wooden floorboards that softly creak beneath his feet, “Would you care to enlighten us with the solution to the quadratic equation on the board?” He comes to a stop, hands clasped behind his back as he patiently waits for you to answer, a small, knowing smile poised on his lips. 

“I– uhm, well,” you stutter, glancing back and forth between your barely there notes and the chalkboard, throat growing tighter as you feel everyone's eyes on you, “Don’t you need to solve for G first?”

“And how would you go about doing that?”

“Well, you would…” You trail off, desperately trying to remember the lessons you’d had before Easter holiday, absentmindedly picking at your cuticle as you pray to be anywhere but here or for a hole to open in the floor and swallow you whole, “I…I don’t recall, professor. I’m sorry.” You finally say, not being able to meet his gaze as you stare intently at your lap, desperately willing yourself not to cry, even as you feel your eyes stinging. 

“Perhaps, in the future, it would be of benefit to socialize with your friends outside of my classroom.” Professor Davies admonishes, giving a sharp glare to Louise as well, who manages an apologetic smile. “Yes, Professor.” You whisper, keeping your eyes downturned. 

Finally, you hear the floorboards softly creaking once more as Professor Davies makes his way back up to the podium at the front of the room and once again resumes his lecture. You can’t help but pause for a second when you hear a small snicker from the tall boy in front of you, sensing as he peers at you over his shoulder once again. 

“Would anyone else like to take a crack at the problem on the board?” Professor Davies asks, leaning against the old, worn podium at the front of the room. Like clockwork, Michael’s hand shoots into the air. Somehow, that makes you blush even harder.

Eventually, Professor Davies finishes his lecture and retrieves his dark leather briefcase from under the desk, pulling a thick stack of papers out and sitting them on the podium, leaning over it with a sigh, “I have your tests graded. Most of you did very well, you should be pleased with yourselves. Some of you, however,” He says pointedly, “Could benefit greatly from a closer study of the material.”

Slowly, he walks around the room passing back tests, throwing out a comment here and there as he did so. You already know you hadn't done well on that particular test and dread getting it back and confirming your suspicions, so you keep yourself busy, choosing to meticulously pack up your things instead. 

“Mr. Gavey,” he said a few feet away from you, papers rustling as he slid the test across the wooden surface of the long bench desks, “Once more, an outstanding job! Top of the class, keep it up.” 

“Thank you, Professor,” you glance up, watching as he takes the paper with a humble nod, that same, oh-so pleased smile gracing his angular face. He must sense you looking at him and quickly shifts his gaze in your direction, eyes glimmering with self-satisfaction behind his gold-rimmed glasses as his smile quickly turns into a smirk. Finally, you tear your gaze away from his with a small, bewildered huff. Why did he seem to get so much satisfaction from besting you, of all people? It’s not like you were exactly an academic threat. 

“Ms. Bickerstaff,” Professor Davies says, finally appearing next to the table you and Louise sat at, “Not bad, a bit more effort next time and you’re sure to be on track,” he remarks, sliding her paper across the desk. Louise thanks him with a small smile as she flips through her test, eyes scanning over his marks. 

Finally, Professor Davies stands before you once again, your paper the very last in his hands. You hear him mutter your last name before he slides the paper across the desk to you, and you can’t help but deflate as you see your grade; you knew it would be bad, but that? How on Earth were you going to recover your average? What if you had to retake the whole course? What if you failed out of Oxford entirely? Your parents had sacrificed so much to help you get here, spending years and untold amounts of money on private tutors and extracurricular materials, all to help you have an impressive application! Not to mention the money just for the course fees! Unlike most of your friends, you didn’t come from piles and piles of money and status – your family was alright, sure, but you were definitely several tax brackets below them. 

As your thoughts spiraled, you felt Louise elbow you in the side at the same time you heard Professor Davies address you again. Shaking your head to clear your scattered thoughts, you clear your throat and finally turn to look up at him, “Sorry, yes, Professor?” 

“As I was saying,” Professor Davies continues, tapping the papers in front of you, “I would like to discuss your performance with you today, after class. Please meet me at the front of the room before you go.”

“Yes, sir.” you mumble dejectedly, nodding as you quickly flip the test over, embarrassed at the thought of anyone else seeing your grade. 

“I’ll see you later, babes,” Louise says a few minutes later as everyone is clearing out of the room, “Good luck!” She whispers, giving you a reassuring pat on the shoulder before making her way to the door.

“Thanks!” you smile weakly, swallowing the lump in your throat before picking up your things and heading to the front of the room. The afternoon sun is already getting lower in the sky, beams of light shining into the room, bathing rectangular swaths of the floor in bright, golden light and highlighting motes of dust as they scatter in the air. Only a few students are left in the classroom, some of them finishing up notes while others type out quick texts. As you walk by his desk, you notice Michael scribbling down notes in his planner. 

You shuffle your feet nervously as you stand in front of the sizable oak desk that your professor sits at, watching as he adds a sticky note to the top of another stack of papers, “You wanted to see me, Professor?”

“Ah, yes!” He says, looking up at you over his glasses. He quickly caps his pen and stands, walking around the desk to stand in front of you, “I know this class has been quite the challenge,” he begins, leaning against the desk, “But, I think I’ve found a solution for you.” 

“You have?” You ask, tilting your head in confusion.

“I think you could benefit greatly from a tutor, perhaps a peer who could explain the material to you in a different way,” he continues, “And I have just the student in mind.” Instantly, you feel a pit beginning to form in your stomach, biting your bottom lip as you watch Professor Davies motion for someone behind you to come up to the desk, “Mr. Gavey, if you could join us up here, please.”

You freeze when you feel him saunter up beside you, eyeing him out of the corner of your eye. He was so much taller than you, your head barely grazing his shoulder, as he came to a stop next to you, standing casually with his backpack slung over one shoulder. 

Professor Davies once again turns his attention to you, motioning to Michael as he speaks, “Mr. Gavey here is one of my most capable students,” you can’t help but notice him stand up straighter at the comment, growing somehow even taller, “I’ve taken the liberty of asking him if he would be so kind as to assist you with some of the course work and he agreed.” You freeze a little at that, stunned that he would be so quick to help you when he seems to relish any opportunity to make you squirm. “I’ve given it some thought,” the professor continues, fixing you with a stern gaze, “And I’m willing to let you make corrections to your test and resubmit it for half credit.”

“Oh, thank you so much, prof–”

“However,” he adds, crossing his arms over his chest, “This will be the only time I do so. From now on, I suggest you see Mr. Gavey here on a regular basis; the material is only going to get more challenging as we begin this next unit.”

“Of course, professor. Thank you again.” You respond quietly, shifting uneasily as you stand between the two men. 

“Right, well, now that’s sorted,” Professor Davies says, clapping his hands together once as he turns and makes his way back over to the desk chair, sitting down with a tired sigh, “I trust the two of you can come to an agreement upon when and where to meet. I’ll see you again Monday, have a pleasant weekend.” He says, waving his hand dismissively as he goes back to organizing his papers. 

The two of you murmur your goodbyes before making your way into the hall, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as he follows you out of the classroom. Eventually, you come across a small alcove in the hallway; finally turning to face him, you let your eyes sweep up his body, finally coming to meet his blue eyes, slightly hidden behind the glare of the hallway lights on his glasses. 

“So,” you clear your throat and shift on your feet awkwardly, “Uh, what time works for you? I really can’t do Saturdays–” you begin, only to be cut off.

“Shame,” Michael sighs dismissively, a smirk pulling at one corner of his mouth, “Saturday is the only day that works for me.” 

The tone of his voice and the mirthful glint in his eyes makes you very much doubt that, your gaze narrowing, “Okay, well Saturday’s are the only day I have off,” you huff, only growing more annoyed as the stupid smirk on his face grows with satisfaction, no doubt pleased that he’s being a nuisance, “Besides, I super can’t tomorrow, anyway. I already promised my friends I’d come with them to this party tha–”

“Oh, I know about your little party,” Michael scoffs, “Trust me, love, the whole damn class heard about that stupid fucking party with the way you lot were running your mouths earlier,” he chuckles coldly, continuing in an exaggerated high-pitched voice, one hand coming up to mime twirling a lock of hair, “Oooooh, it’s so cold, can’t wear the fuckin’ strappy dress, gotta wear me jumper and little slutty skirt, la-dee-dah.” He finishes with a final huff of laughter. 

“What is your deal with me?!” You finally snap, glaring at him, even as you feel your face redden, “You’ve been a dick all semester and I haven’t done anything to you! I’ve never even talked to you!” Glancing around the empty hallway, you cross your arms over your chest, praying no one’s in earshot to hear your hissed tirade.

“I might not know you but I know plenty about your little friends,” he sneers, shaking his head like a disappointed father; the sight makes your blood boil.

“What does that even mean?” You demand, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. What did your friends have to do with any of this? None of them ever spoke about Michael, none of them even knew him as far as you were aware. 

His face softens, if only for a moment, as he registers the genuine confusion on your face, smirk faltering as his eyes narrow. He leans in closer to you as he begins speaking again and you can’t help but get a brief smell of the cologne he wears, something warm and woodsy that makes you think of a bookshop and the smell of the forest after it rains, “Come on,” he starts, blue eyes flitting between both of yours as he looks at you intently, “Felix Catton? You and your little friend, the one from class, you go around with him, yeah?”

You nod, giving him another puzzled look, confused as to what the hell Felix has to do with any of his disdain, “Yeah,” you say slowly, drawing out the word, “But, what does he have to do with anything?”

Michael huffs once more, almost laughing to himself as he shakes his head, burying his hands in the pockets of his jeans, “See, we went to school together, him and I – some of primary, all of secondary,” he shrugs, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he traps you in his gaze once again, “And I just don’t fucking like the guy. Can’t stand him, never could’ve.” 

You’re silent for a second, and now it’s your turn to flick your eyes back and forth, searching each of his for some sort of coherent answer and yet you come up empty. “But, what does that have to do with me?” You ask slowly, making sure to carefully enunciate each word.

“Don’t trust the people around him either,” he mutters, gazing down at his shoe, “Weirdos, the whole lot. There’s something…off about the guy. Can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something dark there, all around him. Like he’s putting on one big show. All his little gremlins do too, they all act the same.”

The two of you are silent for a moment, neither knowing quite what to say next. You chance a glance up at him, nearly gasping when you find him already gazing at you – an unreadable expression on his face. Yet a light blush still blooms on your cheeks as you quickly look away once again, your heart thudding so loudly you’re wondering if he can hear it – hell, you’re wondering why you’re reacting this way at all, why you’re so shy and skittish around him. 

“M’not like that,” you very nearly whisper, finally seeming to regain your voice. Only to lose it once again when he takes a half step toward you, suddenly crowding you further into the small alcove.

He makes a small noise, damn near cooing at you, tilting his head to the side when he notices you flinch as he raises an arm, gently raising your chin with one hand, angling your head up to meet his gaze, that signature smirk once again taking hold on his face as he looks at you curiously, “You’re not like that, are you?” He asks, his voice low and raspy. 

You quickly shake your head, blinking up at him, unsure of what exactly he wants from you. You feel your cheeks stinging for the umpteenth time today with how hard you’re blushing, a strange feeling taking root in your stomach the longer you stare at him, that small voice in your head positively cheering. 

But, as quickly as whatever spell he seems to have on you takes hold, it’s broken as he suddenly lets go of your chin and steps back, casually pursing his lips and nodding to himself, coming to some unknown decision in his head, “Meet me in Bodleian, tomorrow at five. There’s hardly anyone up on the third floor on the weekends, so we'll be able to focus.” He says simply, turning on his heel to leave without even giving you a second to answer.

“But I’m bus–”

“D’you want a good grade or do you want to go get drunk with your creepy gremlin friends?” He asks, peering over his shoulder as he saunters down the hallway, raising an eyebrow at you over the shiny gold rim of his glasses, “S’your call, love.” He finishes with a shrug, disappearing as he turns a corner and leaves you standing there alone, frowning and dumbstruck. 

“Bodleian at five it is,” you mutter to yourself, sighing as you turn and walk the opposite way, desperately trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach and the fog in your brain. 

Your shoes tap against the stone pavement as you walk up to the old library, backpack slung over one shoulder; reaching into a pocket of your backpack, you blindly grab for your phone as you pull open one of the heavy, old wooden doors and step into the atrium. Out of all of Oxford’s libraries, you had to admit that Bodleian was one of your favorites; it had such a soothing atmosphere – from the way the evening light trickled in through the old glass windows, to the intricate wooden decor, and the way the entire place smelled of the old, well-loved books that lined the countless rows of shelves. 

Stepping to the side of the entryway, you check the time, your hand shaking a bit as you unlock your phone – 4:53pm, a little early, still. Sighing, you crane your head, nervously looking for Michael. Not seeing him, you decide to bide your time examining one of the tall bookshelves near the entrance, eyes skimming over their titles as you fiddle with the strings of the hoodie you’d decided to wear. Smiling, you lean up on your tiptoes to grab a copy of The Two Towers, happy to see a familiar book. Just as your fingers graze over the embossed gold lettering on the spine of the book, a large pair of hands grab you by the shoulders.

“Boo!” Someone whispers, close enough that you feel the warmth of their breath on the side of your neck. 

You spin around with a small shriek, jerking your head to the side when a hand is suddenly clasped over your mouth.

“Shh! Hey, relax!” Finally managing to focus on the face in front of you, your breathing slows as your gaze meets a pair of round blue eyes. Michael’s face is only inches from yours, concern evident, even behind the mask of a smirk he wears. “It’s only me.” He says softly, smirk softening into a genuine smile that sends a frantic tingle down your spine, which you desperately try to ignore as you nod against his hand, gasping in a small breath as it lowers once again to rest on your shoulder. 

“Hi.” Blinking up at him, you breathe the word more so than say it as you settle back on your feet, cheeks flushing as you realize he has his other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you forward ever so slightly, like he wanted to make sure your head didn’t hit the sharp edge of one of the shelves; the voice in your head purrs as the butterflies in your stomach summersalt. 

“Hi.” He answers and you feel the hand on your shoulder twitch, the ghost of a comforting squeeze or rub causing the hair on the back of your neck to stand on end as some strange, warm weight settles in the pit of your stomach. 

Suddenly, whatever spell the two of you seemed to be under broke and you quickly clambered away from one another. Michael cleared his throat, running a hand through his wheat colored hair as you tugged at the sleeves of your hoodie, trying to look anywhere but in his direction. “Should we–” He starts suddenly, nodding his head to a staircase at the other end of the room, “It’ll be quieter up there.”

“Sure!” You chirp, giving him a curt nod, “Lead the way, you seem to know the place better than I do.”

“Well,” he chuckles, keeping his voice low as he moves past you, “S’what happens when you don’t spend all your damn time at weirdo parties.” 

You roll your eyes behind him, huffing as you start following him up the staircase, one of your hands gliding across the smooth, polished wood of the bannister. 

“Sorry.” He says suddenly as you reach the third floor of the library, running a hand through his hair once again as he stands at the top of the staircase. 

“What?” You ask, coming to a stop on the last step and looking up at him, tilting your head to the side as you lean against the handrail. 

“For earlier,” he explains, gesturing for you to follow him as he starts making his way to the back corner of the large, open space, the one furthest from the stairs, “Scaring you, I mean. Didn’t mean to.”

You’re quiet for a moment, following him as the two of you walk past aisle after aisle of towering bookshelves. The area is definitely quieter than the main floor, nearly vacant aside from one or two lone students sitting at the long wooden study tables. It’s calm up here, evening light filtering in through large windows on either end of the long room, casting large shadows on the floor and vaulted ceilings.

Eventually, the two of you come to a stop at a table, the very last in its row, tucked away in a corner. “It’s alright,” you shrug, trying to keep your voice soft in the quiet space as you sit your backpack on the edge of the table, “I don’t know why I’m so jumpy today, maybe the tea from earlier.” You lie, hopefully smoothly, and quickly grab a pen and notebook as well, before sitting down.

Michael huffs to himself as he sits his things out on the table as well, like he’s laughing at a joke you can’t hear, “Maybe it’s all that tension.”

“Wh– tension?” You question, cringing at the urgency in your voice as you pray that he doesn’t pick up on it, shifting in your seat as he pulls out the chair next to you and plops down, completely relaxed as if he owns the place. 

“The stress? That you were meant to be working out at Catton’s?” He gives you an odd look, resting his head against his hand as he leans his elbow on the table, “Couldn’t help but overhear your little conversation yesterday.”

“Oh…” You breathe, a pink haze settling over your cheeks once more as you fidget with your pen, acutely aware of how easily he seems to be able to make you blush. 

The smirk on his face widens as he narrows his eyes, studying you in a way that makes your heart squeeze, your thighs clenching together as that heady weight from earlier makes itself known again in your stomach, “You can’t keep one thought in that head, can you, love?”

You blink, unsure of what to say, as two halves of your brain argue with one another. Why is he so mean? You wonder to yourself, eyes searching his, as you frown, And…God, why do I like it?

“Why don’t you like me?” You ask, finally breaking the silence with your small voice. 

He scoffs again, shaking his head as if the answer should be obvious to you, “You don’t take it seriously. You come to class and whisper and gossip with your damn friend or doodle in your little notebook, but you don’t fucking listen.” He sits back up, frowning, “I work hard every fucking day in there, for fuck’s sake, I only agreed to help you because I want to be Davies’s teaching assistant next year! Yet you and Catton and everyone like you can just pay their way in here, collecting a little diploma from Oxford just so their parents can brag about it with their stupid fucking rich friends.” He finally finishes, turning his head to stare out the window. 

“Told you, I’m not like that,” you whisper after a moment, voice wavering from the tightness in the back of your throat, “I’m here on scholarship, same as you.” 

His eyes flit back to you, his frown deepening, “How did you know ab–”

“Like I’m not going to ask around about the guy tutoring me?”

“Fair enough.” He concedes after a minute. 

Silence settles over the two of you again, like a stalemate, waiting to see who would crack first. Finally, you turn to him with a sigh, nodding to your test paper on the desk, “Can we just get this done? I don’t want to be here any more than you do.”

“Ah, of course,” he nods as he picks up your test, looking over the first incorrect problem, “Catton’s big important party. And you’re stuck here with a loser like me; must really be doing your head in, huh?” 

You want so badly to correct him, to tell him that no, actually, for once, you were kind of excited to not be at one of Felix’s parties. You wanted to tell him that you’d hoped things would be different, maybe if it was just the two of you he would drop the arrogant asshole bit, that you stupidly hoped it was just an act. 

Instead, you bite your lip, determined not to lash out and give him another reason to dislike you, “I don’t think you’re a loser, Michael,” you say, tiredly meeting his gaze, “Can we just focus on this now, please?” 

He’s quiet for a moment, frozen like you’d said something groundbreaking. Finally, he nods his head, almost imperceptibly like he’d come to a decision you weren’t privy to, “Sure,” he says gruffly, grabbing your test and reading over the first incorrect problem, “S’not like I’m the one failing.” He finishes, his voice tight and determined, like he knew it was something he’d regret saying even as the words left his mouth. 

See? You think silently, pointed words aimed at that stupid voice in your head, Told you so.

It’s barely an hour later and you already feel cross-eyed, groaning as Michael flips your test over to the next page and you see you’re only just now halfway done correcting the ones you’d gotten wrong. You hate to admit it to yourself, but his tutoring was helping — problems that you’d hardly been able to finish the first time seem far less daunting as he explains them to you. Even he seems less daunting as the hour goes on; shockingly, he doesn’t make anymore snide comments and you can tell that he genuinely enjoys talking about the subject, patiently helping you through each problem. 

“Can we take a break?” You grumble, laying your head down on top of your textbook. 

“What?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he checks his watch, “It’s hardly been an hour and you’re ready to give up?” 

“‘M not giving up,” you mumble, “I just think we could use a little break…” You say hopefully, looking at him with a small smile. When he doesn’t break, holding your gaze with a frown, you sigh, “Just, like, ten minutes, please?” 

You want to groan again when you see that formidable smirk make its home on his lips again, “Say please again.” He commands, his voice low. 

“Huh?” You balk, nearly dropping your phone as you retrieve it from your pocket. 

“Say please again,” he says slowly, his smirk only growing wider as he watches your cheeks redden, “Beg.” 

“W-why?” You question, face burning as you try your damndest to look unbothered by his request. 

He shrugs dismissively, “Makes you squirm,” he answers finally, leaning back in his chair, “I like that.”

“Why?” Your voice is so small you doubt he’d even know you spoke if his eyes weren’t fixed on you. 

He hums, a satisfied noise, like you’ve finally managed to meander into a trap he’d set ages ago, “S’fucking cute,” he huffs out a laugh when he sees your eyes widen, “Makes you blush and act all dumb.” 

You know you should be offended, but you can’t find it within yourself to care, “You think I’m cute?” 

He chuckles, sighing, “That’s what you choose to focus on?” 

“Do you?” 

“Fine, yes.” 

“Please, Michael,” you say suddenly, the words feeling practically punched from your throat, “Please, please can we have a break? Please, only ten minutes?” You beg, breathing hard as you quickly scan the room, shoulders relaxing when you don’t see anyone else sitting at the study tables. 

You see the way his eyes widen behind his glasses, like he can’t believe you actually did it, before they narrow once more, overtaken by a satisfied gleam, “Ten minutes.” He says simply, leaning back in his chair yet again, letting his head flop back, relaxed, and closes his eyes. 

You don’t move for a second, letting your eyes study the side of his face, looking over his sharp jawline and the curve of his nose. After a moment, you look away, deciding to pull out your phone. 

A few minutes go by as you answer a few texts from Louise, telling her that you miss her too and how you wish you were at the party — a lie, though you can’t find it within yourself to care. You busy yourself for a while longer, watching a few people's Instagram stories, the volume on your phone muted as you watch your friends dance under colorful strobe lights, blowing smoke at the camera and clinking drinks together. 

“I meant what I said.” You say finally, laying your phone on the table and picking at one of your cuticles. 

“Hm?” Michael questions, not bothering to open his eyes. 

“I don’t think you’re a loser,” you answer, fidgeting, “I never have. I think you’re…intriguing.”

“Intriguing?” He asks, finally sitting up and looking at you with a questioning stare, “How so?” 

You swallow, tucking your hair behind your ear with a shrug, “You’re smart…you know you’re smart,” you start, voice small and shaky, “I like that.”

“You like that or you like me?” He’s looking at you like a cat playing with a helpless mouse, looking at you like he knows he’s already won a game you don’t even know the two of you are playing. 

“You.” It comes out as a breath. 

He doesn’t answer and eventually you look away from him, choosing to stare out the window at the streetlights outside, the sky dark. 

Finally, the silence becomes overbearing and you break first again, “Thank you,” you smile at him, keeping your voice low even though you know the rest of the floor is vacant, even though the noise of the floors below has drastically faded over the last hour, “For helping me, I mean. You probably have a dozen things you’d rather do on a Saturday.” 

He stays quiet for a few seconds, “I didn’t really have anything better to do,” he smirks, “No parties.” 

“None?” 

“Never,” he shakes his head, shrugging, “Don’t get invited.” 

“Oh,” you answer simply, “Well, still, either way, thank you.” You smile again, but it falters when he leans forward suddenly, crowding into your space with a sly grin, so close that you can feel his breath on your neck. 

“I know a way you could repay me, love,” he whispers lowly into your ear, your hair standing on end, “Only if you want to, of course.” He adds, his long fingers toying with a strand of your hair. 

Your eyes grow comically wide as you process what he just said, “H-how do you want me to repay you?” You whisper, your eyes finally meeting his. 

He laughs softly, letting go of the strand of your hair to rest his hand lightly against the side of your face, his thumb skimming over your cheek as he watches a rosy hue settle across it, “I can think,” he starts, thumb moving lower to skate across your bottom lip, slightly tugging the skin with it, “Of one very fucking good way to put this mouth to use, love.” 

You part your lips slightly, letting the tip of his thumb into your mouth, just barely holding it between your teeth as you lightly run your tongue over it, heart skipping a beat at the way his lips just barely part in shock as you do. The voice in your head purrs again, roaring back to life, and you nod, smiling around his finger. 

“Yeah?” He questions, smirking as he watches your lips twitch around his thumb, “”Y’wanna?”

“Yes.” You reply around his thumb, your hands coming up to hold onto his forearm, the fabric of his rust colored sweater soft under your hands. 

“Beg.” He commands again, eyes twinkling. 

You take in a breath, eyes slipping shut as your thighs clench around nothing – missing the way Michael glances down at the movement, a knowing grin forming on his face, “Please, Michael.” You practically whine. 

“Ooh,” he coos, finally moving his thumb from your mouth, only to trail his hand down your neck, lightly resting it against your throat, “I think you can do better than that, pretty. Open your eyes and damn beg.” 

You follow his orders, a small whimper skirting past your lips at the new pet name as you open your eyes, “Please, Michael, please let me repay you, let me thank you, please.” The words tumble out, your eyes wide and pleading. 

“How’re you planning on doing that, empty headed little thing?” He taunts, the hand around your throat just barely tightening but it’s enough to make you let out a small, desperate whine. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, moving close enough to you that the front of his chest is plastered to your side, his heart beating against your shoulder, “Ask for what you want, beg properly.” His breath fans across the side of your face again, the feeling of his lips brushing over the side of your jaw making you jump. 

“Please, God, Michael,” you whine, squeezing your legs together so hard you’re surprised they haven’t fused together, “P-please let me suck your cock — to thank you, thank you for helping me.” You add quickly, breath shaky as you turn your head to look at him imploringly. 

He chuckles, but he looks pleased as he leans back momentarily, craning his neck to make sure there isn’t anyone around, “Alright, alright, love,” he soothes, coming back to face you, nodding his head to the empty space in front of his hair, below the table, “Not God, but I’ll give you what you want.” He teases.

Your breath catches in your throat as you look down at the floor beneath the desk, then back up at him before nodding, “Yes, sir.” You push yourself off your chair, sliding down beneath the desk. 

“Goddammit,” you hear him groan above you, running his palms over his thighs as he parts them, making room for you, “Keep that up, love, might even give you extra credit.” 

You rest your palms against the tops of his thighs as you move between his legs, getting comfortable on your knees, the old wooden floor cool against your skin, even through your black leggings. Finally, your eyes settle on the sizable bulge, covered by his dark jeans, and you can’t help the small whine that leaves your lips. Slowly, you move your hands up to the button of his pants, quickly popping it open and dragging the zipper down, smiling when Michael sighs above you as he pulls his sweater up out of the way, exposing the pale skin of his stomach. You let your eyes roam over him, warmth settling between your legs as you spot the dusting of light hair that starts beneath his belly button and leads downwards, disappearing under his plaid boxers.

You move closer to him, crowding in between his long legs, as you hook your fingers over the tops of his boxers, before finally looking up at him, “Can I…?” You ask, nodding to where his cock is straining against the fabric. 

“Don’t be shy now, princess,” he groans, running a hand through your hair as he stares down at you, “Get on with it.”

You keep your eyes on his as you pull his boxers down, just enough to free his cock, watching the way his chest heaves as he lets out another relieved sigh. Finally, you tear your gaze away from his as you look at his cock, gasping in a breath as you do. As far as dicks go, Michaels is impressive, beautiful even – long and thick with veins running up the underside, leading up to a flushed, leaking tip. 

You take him in your hand tentatively, squeezing him lightly around the base, your confidence growing when he grunts, breathing heavier. Finally, you lightly lick the tip, eyes sliding closed at the pleasant, salty taste of his pre-cum. You take the tip of him in your mouth, humming around him when his fingers tighten in your hair, lightly pushing on the back of your head, silently urging you to take more of him. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” he roughly groans, managing to keep his voice low, “Knew that pretty fucking mouth was good for something.” He moves his hips, impatiently thrusting his cock an inch deeper into your mouth, breathily cursing under his breath. 

You start bobbing your head up and down over his length, taking more and more of him into your mouth, more of his pre-cum leaking onto your tongue as you feel his dick throb and twitch in your hand. After a moment, you take a deep breath through your nose and remove your hand, resting it on his thigh, as you take him all the way to the base, your nose nestled in the short patch of hair there as you breathe in his heady scent, your eyes glazing over as you savor the feeling of him at the back of your throat. 

“Jesus!” He grunts, louder than he meant to, keeping your head in place as he thrusts his hips up again, keeping you in place at the base of his cock, “Fuck, that’s it,” he praised lowly, your center throbbing, no doubt leaking onto the fabric of your leggings, “Look at me, wanna see your eyes while I fuck your throat.”

You whine, desperately blinking back tears as you look up at him, trying to keep your breathing even. You hold his gaze as you stick your tongue out, licking lower, down toward his balls, relishing the way his eyes roll back as you do, stomach muscles twitching as he continues thrusting his hips up into your mouth, soaking his boxers and jeans with your spit. 

“Oh, fuck, that’s it,” he groans, looking down at you, his eyelids heavy, “God, yeah, cry on my cock love. Fuck, you look so pretty crying on my cock.” He mumbles, talking to himself more so than you. 

His words send a shiver down your spine, adding to the heat in your center, and you whimper when he finally moves his hand from the back of your head, allowing you to come up for air. You do, with a gasp, thin strings of spit connecting your reddened lips with the flushed head of his cock. You keep your eyes on his as you wrap your lips around him once more, running your tongue along the thick vein on the underside before sucking at the swollen tip, relishing the way it makes him clench his jaw and gasp through his teeth as you stroke the rest of him with your hand. 

Above you, he smirks again, gently running his hand through your hair but making no move to press your head down again. He cocks his head to the side, studying you, grinning at the far-off, foggy look in your eyes, “Not a thought in that pretty head, is there?” He asks, bringing his hand down and gently patting your cheek; the ghost of a slap making your thighs clench, making your head dizzy with need. 

You nod around him, moving your head up and down along his length. You feel yourself throbbing with need, pulsing with heat; almost automatically, your hand starts to wander, a small sigh escaping you as your hand presses against your center through your leggings. You feel a warmth settle across your cheeks again as you feel your own wetness, leaking through the fabric just as you’d suspected. You whimper as you press down again, your eyes falling shut as you let your hips grind against your fingers, the wet fabric creating a delicious friction against your clit. 

Which you get to feel for all of five seconds before Michael is suddenly yanking your head from his length, causing you to yelp as he tugs your hair. “Did I say you could touch your cunt?” 

“N-no,” you whine pathetically, eyes watering from the harsh hold he has on your hair, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t think—“ You try to explain, only for him to cut you off with another harsh tug, making you mewl. 

“That’s a pattern with you, isn’t it?” He asks, looking at you with a condescending smirk, studying you again, “You were being such a good girl earlier, what happened? Hm?” He questions, pushing his chair back enough to pull you out from under the table. 

You get to your feet, suddenly feeling shy in front of him once again despite having his cock in your mouth mere moments ago. “I…got distracted.” You answer finally. 

“I got distracted….who?” He asks, looking up at you expectantly over the rims of his glasses. 

“I got distracted, sir,” you quickly correct yourself, eyes frantically scanning the still vacant floor of the library, “I’m sorry.”

“That’s much better, love,” he drawls, placing his hands on your hips, “Now, what could’ve been so fucking distracting, huh?” He starts moving his hands, slowly, toward your center, still looking up at you, his eyes questioning. You nod your head, just barely but enough for him to understand, and any hesitancy from him quickly disappeared. “Could it be this, I wonder?” He questions sardonically, suddenly cupping your heat in his large hand, the warmth of it nearly making your knees buckle, even through the thin fabric of your leggings. He hums, the sound low in his chest, when he feels how much you’ve soaked the fabric, 

“Oh,” you whimper, grabbing at his shoulders to keep yourself balanced as his fingers continue to tease you, rubbing circles into your clit, “Oh my God, fuck.”

“Christ,” he breathes, staring up at you with dark eyes, “So fucking wet, love, holy hell. Did you get this way just from sucking my cock?”

“Yeah,” you whine, nodding your head desperately as you try to swallow all the small noises you want to make in your throat, your hips rutting against his hand, “Please, sir!”

“Oh, so now that dumb brain has no trouble remembering damn instructions, huh?” He taunts, a wicked grin on his face as his fingers rub your clit in smaller, harsher circles, making you see stars, “Need your wet little cunt played with to be able to do as you're told?”

You nod your head frantically, tears nearly spilling from your eyes at the zaps of pleasure radiating from you, your walls clenching around nothing. Just as you feel yourself about to tip over the edge, he stops, jerking his hand away from you with a knowing chuckle, “W-what?” You question, eyes blinking open, “I was so close!” You whine, nearly stamping your foot on the floor like a petulant child. 

“Told you,” Michael shrugs, pulling you to sit in his lap, your back against his chest as he wraps his arms around you. His breath tickles the side of your neck and face when he speaks again, “You’re so fun to tease, love, can’t help myself.”

You wiggle in his grasp, making him groan as your ass grinds against his hard length, desperately trying to get your hands free to touch your pussy again, nearly out of your mind with need. “P-please, sir, please touch me!” You finally gasp out, knowing he won’t give in until you do.

“Now there’s a good girl,” he says, voice pleased and cocky as he plants kisses along the side of your neck, “Since you asked so nicely…” He says, letting go of one of your arms, letting you grasp the arm still wrapped around you with your hands, as his free hand skirts down your stomach to the top of your leggings, pausing long enough for you to nod again, before he finally touches you. 

You whimper, jerking in his lap at the feel of his warm fingers directly on your heat for the first time, spreading your wet folds with a satisfied hum. His long fingers move down to your entrance, gathering some of the wetness there, “You’re so fucking wet,” he marvels, dragging his fingers up to your aching clit, “Fucking dripping on my fingers.” He murmurs in your ear, nipping at the side of your neck and sending tingles down your spine as he starts rubbing tight, wet circles against your bud. 

You tilt your head back, resting it against his shoulder as your chest heaves. A moan leaves your mouth, louder than it should be, and Michaels free hand shoots up, wrapping around your mouth. “Gotta be quiet, love,” he whispers, not slowing down the movement of his fingers in the slightest, “Wouldn’t want someone to interrupt, hm? Make me stop again?” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, whining desperately against his hand as he moves his fingers against you, the coil in your belly winding tighter and tighter. Your whole body lurches atop his, making him suck a breath in through his teeth as you move against his cock, still hard and hot as it presses against your lower back, when he moves his hand lower, plunging two fingers into your tight heat with no warning. “Fuck!” You yelp, muffled against his hand; tears leak from the corners of your eyes as he moves his fingers, scissoring them into you relentlessly as his thumb circles your clit. 

“S’fucking tight,” he mumbles lowly, voice vibrating his chest against your back, “God, you’re tight.” He grunts between clenched teeth, repeatedly crooking his fingers inside you as he fucks his fingers in and out of your heat, letting out small, barely there groans every time your pussy squelches around his fingers as he punches muffled whines and whimpers from you. He crooks his fingers up suddenly in a way that makes you see stars as you writhe on his lap, your knees shooting up off the floor as you attempt to curl up on yourself, “That the spot?” He teases, relentlessly rubbing his fingers against it as his thumb quickens against your clit. He adds a third finger without warning, curling them up against that rough patch inside you as he bites down on your shoulder, muffling his own groan as he feels you clench down on his fingers. 

“You gonna come?” He mumbles, grinning like a cheshire cat when you frantically nod your head, tears leaking onto the hand still wrapped tightly around your mouth. “Open your eyes,” he commands, not stopping his movements, “Want you to watch what I’m doing to you when you fucking cum.”

At the promise of finally getting to come, your eyes shoot open as you pick your head up off his shoulder, looking down the length of your body to where his hand disappears under your leggings. You practically come undone at the sight, watching as his hand moves against you through the dark fabric, maintaining a careful rhythm. “Michael, please!” You whine against his hand, desperately trying to keep your eyes open. 

He chuckles lowly, clearly proud of how quickly he’s been able to reduce you into a begging mess, the sound reverberating off your back. “Fucking come,” he commands, doubling his efforts, “Soak my fucking hand, love.”

The coil in your stomach finally snaps and you sob, eyes snapping shut as your whole body clenches, shaking in his lap, as fireworks burst behind your eyelids. Your entire core clamps down so tight he has to fight to keep his fingers within you, muting the sounds of his groans against your neck and shoulder as he feels your cunt pulse against his fingers. He doesn’t let up, pressing incessantly against that spot within you as you come, until he finally gets what he wants – both of you groaning together, noises muffled, as a stream of fluid seems to erupt from your center, soaking his hand and the inside of your leggings, though you can’t think enough to care at the moment. 

“Goddammit,” he grunts, finally removing his hand from your leggings, running his fingers through your folds one last time just to make you squirm. Suddenly, he’s lifting you off his lap enough to turn you around, maneuvering you to face him. You’re practically boneless in his lap as he lifts you just enough to pull your leggings down over your ass, pressing his bare cock against your still throbbing center when he sets you back down, “Gonna let me fuck you, love? Hm? Want me to make you go dumb around my cock?” 

You nod your head weakly, not bothering to lift it from his shoulder as you straddle his lap. He doesn’t make you beg this time, too desperate to feel your wet heat around him, as he swiftly lifts you up again, just enough to align his length with your entrance. 

Both of you moan as he lets you sit back down, his hard length disappearing into your warmth. He holds the back of your head, pressing your mouth against his neck to muffle your cries; you can feel his jaw clench with the effort of keeping his own muted. He fills you deliciously, thick cock pressed against every part of you, as your clit presses against the small thatch of hair above his length. 

“Fuck,” he huffs, the word hissed between his teeth as he squeezes his eyes shut, savoring the way your pussy pulses around his length, the way you desperately mouth and lick at his neck, “God, knew you’d feel good.” 

Somehow, that remark works it’s way through the fog in your brain, “Hm?” you hum against his neck, your hands coming up to tangle in his golden hair, “You thought about me?” You whimper, words whiny and breathy as he rocks you against him, spearing you on his length again and again, head kissing your cervix just enough to knock the air from your lungs every time he lowers you back down. 

He sighs, as if just now realizing what he’d said, and nods, swallowing down a moan before he speaks, “‘Course I did,” he admits, grinding you down against him, his hips pressed against yours. “Looked so damn pretty in class,” he continues, “So cute all, fuck, all flushed and embarrassed every time you got asked a question.” 

His admission makes you clench around him, heat flooding through your system as you process what he’d said. Your clit grinds against his body again, just as the head of his cock brushes against that spot in your center, and it’s like your brain has been whited out, all you can do is mewl against his neck as he rocks you up and down along his cock. 

“Fuck, I feel this sweet cunt getting tight, love,” he says, breathing heavily as he gets closer to his own release, “Y’gonna come?” 

“Yes!” You whimper, voice high-pitched and broken as you nod frantically against the skin of his neck, now wet with your spit and tears as you rock yourself against him, moving your clit against the hair at the base of his cock. 

“Hold it,” he commands softly, more breathing than speaking. He chuckles when he hears you whine, loving the way you mewl for him like a soft little kitten, and the hand still holding your head against him strokes your hair, soothing you. “Want us to come together,” he huffs, cursing under his breath as he feels you grow somehow tighter around him, “Fuck, I’m close just hold on.” The hand on your hip tightens, grinding you tightly against him, groaning as he feels your center milking his cock, your walls clenching around him desperately. 

“F-fuck, Michael,” you whine, breath hot against the column of his throat as you feel yourself tipping over, “Please! Please I can’t hold it, please!” You beg beautifully, weeping against his skin, trying so hard to keep it down to a whisper so you don’t draw attention, not this close to your release. 

“Where, fuck,” he curses, pulling your head up to look in your eyes, the blue in his nearly swallowed by blackness, “Tell me where.” He pants, his voice urgent.

“Inside me!” You breathe, cunt clenching around him as you feel him twitch inside you.

He groans, forehead resting against your shoulder for a second as he tries to maintain control, both of his hands gripping your ass hard enough to leave bruises, “Are you s–”

“Yes!” You nod, resting your forehead against his when he picks his head back up, “‘M on the pill.” You reassure him as you keep nodding. The two of you move together for a few more seconds, wildly grinding together, before the coil in your stomach is finally wound too tight, “Michael, oh, fuck!”

“Fuck,” he gasps, seeming to get somehow thicker inside you, “Come for daddy, fuck, be good and come.” He commands, his own voice low and frenzied.

Hearing him call himself that does you in, and you shatter around him, walls gripping him tightly. You open your mouth, unable to control a loud moan, which he quickly hushes by pressing his lips against yours, licking into your mouth as he thrusts up into your center harshly a few times, each rise of his hips accompanied by a grunt into your waiting mouth as you mewl at the heat of his cum filling you up, extending your own release. 

The two of you stay quiet for a moment, breathing heavily as you sweetly kiss, tiredly pressing your lips together. Finally, you pull away from him giggling shyly when you meet his eyes, blushing as you feel his length slowly softening inside you. “Getting shy on me now?” He teases, smiling at you as he gently plays with your hair. 

You smile back at him for a second before suddenly coming to your senses and remembering where you are, “Shit,” you whisper, hopping up off his lap, “I cannot believe we just did that!” You quickly scan the floor with wide eyes, shoulders visibly relaxing when you still don’t see anyone.

“Wasn’t in my plan,” Michael starts, tucking his member back into his boxers and zipping up his jeans, “But I’m certainly not complaining.” He finishes, smirking at you before standing. He leans down, helping you pull up your leggings. He doesn’t miss the way you grimace when the damp, now unpleasantly cool, fabric presses against you. “Sorry,” he apologizes, gesturing to them, “I should’ve…controlled myself better with that one.” He finishes, awkwardly scratching at his chin. 

You laugh quietly, trying to play it off although you’re dreading the half hour train ride back to your flat. That feeling doubles when you look down, eyes widening as you see the dark patch around your crotch, hardly visible on the dark fabric but enough that it makes you nervous, “Getting home is gonna be fun.” You joke, turning to begin gathering your things. 

You’ve gotten your textbook put back into your backpack when you feel a tap on your shoulder; turning your head, you look wide-eyed when you see him sheepishly smiling at you, holding his red sweater out as he stands in a band t-shirt, “Here,” he says softly, waving the sweater at you, “You need it more than I do and it’s my fucking fault anyway.”

You blush, taking the sweater from him with a small thank you, tying it around your waist as he busies himself with picking up his things, before putting the rest of yours into your backpack as well, “Oh, you didn’t have to do that!” You tell him as you finish situating his sweater around you, satisfied that the stain is covered.

He huffs out a laugh, “You sucked my cock on the floor of a library,” he jokes, eyes sparkling with mischief yet again, “S’the least I could do.” 

You laugh, playfully shoving at his shoulder as you put your backpack on. The floor is truly, blessedly, empty as the two of you leave and walk downstairs, not seeing anyone on the second floor either and only a few stragglers on the main floor at this hour on a Saturday evening. He pushes open one of the heavy wooden doors at the entrance, holding it open for you as you duck under his arm. The door thuds closed behind you as you both stand outside the library, the air cold now that the sun’s gone down. 

“I really like them, that band,” you say, nodding to his shirt, “Their last album’s really good.”

“Oh!” He says, eyebrows raising in surprise, “You know them?” He asks, smiling when you nod again, “Their new album is probably my favorite too, actually.” The two of you stand in a comfortable silence for a second later before he notices you shiver as a breeze blows through the stoney courtyard. “D’you live close to campus?”

“Half hour on the train,” you shrug, pulling your phone out to check the time, “I should probably go soon if I’m gonna catch the next one…”

“You could come to mine?” He asks, his voice hopeful, “It’s only a walk from here, maybe fifteen or twenty minutes?”

Your eyes widen, having not expected his invitation, but you nod nonetheless, “If you’re sure,” he nods, “Then, yeah! That would be great.” You smile, walking beside him as you start heading in the direction of his flat. 

“Would you maybe want to get lunch sometime?” He asks, glancing down at you.

“I would love that,” you smile, your hand brushing against his as you continue down the sidewalk, “I think I might need more tutoring, too…”

His hand catches yours, your fingers intertwining as he smirks, “Will you suck my cock every time?” He teases, grinning as you laugh, the sound echoing off the buildings and filtering into the night air. 

Told you so. The voice in the back of your mind echos as you lean your head on Michael’s shoulder.

tagged lovelies: @schniiipsel @arcielee @darlingofvalyria @aemshaircare @imaegontatgaryenwife0 @valeskafics @beautbuck @watercolorskyy @marysucks-blog @fan-goddess @drakonflames @helloworldiamnotarobot

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

[aiiristuff]

"I need you like a heart needs a beat."

pairing : hyunju! x AFAB!reader

genre : soft smut & fluff

tw : public touching, slow humping, consensual sexualization towards hyunju from the reader

a/n : pls dont mind if I accidentally mess up grammar or misspell a few words, english is not my first language! Also, I rarely write smut, so bare w me.

Your body felt hot from the summer sun as you sat on a rented sunbed and the umbrella that covered your face for safety reasons, of course. Your eyes glanced towards your girlfriend as she swam in the crystal clean sea, some people giving her dirty looks as she just wanted to be calm in the water. You felt insanely bad for her as you drank your lemonade from the straw that was in the cold drink. And, after a few minutes, you didn't notice your girlfriend coming closer to you. Your ears perked as you heard the sound of the rocks clanking softly and opened your eyes as you saw your girlfriend, Hyunju. The way she looked in her swimsuit was so insanely attractive that your eyes immediately fell towards her boobs. Ever since she got that top surgery, you just couldn't keep your eyes off of there. She noticed and blushed and, in a playful manner, placed her palm on the V line of her breasts. You groaned and chuckled as you thought of what you were going to say: "C'mon, can't I have some fun looking at your pretty.. body parts" your voice purred through her ears as she scoffed and sat down on the single sunbed next to you.

"Don't be stupid - you're just being a little pervert." Hyunju laughed as she played with the strings of your hair. Her eyes gazed over your body as she felt a bit weird. She felt like something was going down in her bikini underwear. As you two simply didn't have enough money to make her get the surgery for her bottom part of her body, Hyunju hid her upcoming boner. Her eyes softly crunch in a sad way as she remembered that she couldn't fully transition unless she had money. The tension was noticeable as you wanted to comfort her. At the end of the day, she was your girlfriend: "Babe, come on.. Don't be ashamed. You'll get that surgery soon, and I'll make sure that happens!" A soft smile appeared on her face as she twirled her hair. "Uhm.. Don't worry about me, hah. Anyway-- how about we go to the bathroom for a second? I feel like my swimsuit is falling off." Hyunju spoke with a smile as she took your hand, and your lovebug face just went along with whatever she said.

And before you knew it, you two were in the girls' bathroom near the beach as there was not a single soul there. You found yourself in a sticky situation as you washed your hands and felt the strong hands of your girlfriend on your hips as she slowly humped your back. You guys didn't want to have sex here. What if someone walks in! So, you two just agreed on slow humping. You moaned as Hyunju's hands went all over your body as bent herself just a little so she could sloppily kiss your neck with wet smooches. The two of you suddenly heard footsteps towards the bathroom, the voices of an older woman, and a child voice getting closer. Hyunju immediately stopped and went to do whatever that didn't look suspicious when the mother-daughter duo would walk in. The two entered the bathroom as the mother went to help her 6 year old looking daughter in the bathroom stalls. Hyunju, and you already knew it was too risky to continue anywhere on the beach, so the two of you walked out of the girls' bathroom. I wonder what happened home..

I LOVE HYUNJU SM AND I DID THIS FOR ONE OF MY FRIENDS. I HOPE YOU GUYS ENIOY IT MWAAHBB

[mewhenimanangel]

need that, hamzahthefantastic

—synopsis. mandy invites you to hangout with some of her friends. christmas vlog vid

notes 🫧: guys i need hamzah bad

— 🐞

you sighed with content as you finally landed on an outfit you liked. it was a plain long sleeve with a pair of loose dark wash jeans, you weren’t sure what everyone else would be wearing so you picked something simple.

your phone buzzed, mandy asking if you were on your way to her house. you sent her a voice message as you threw on your coat and grabbed your keys along with your purse and phone.

mandy had invited you over to hang out with her, martin, and hamzah and his friends, who you knew from 4freakshow.

you'd never met chase and claire before, but you've hung out with martin and hamzah a few times with mandy.

you met her when she was in nursing school, becoming friends after a few awkward encounters. she introduced you to martin and after a while you met hamzah, in person at least, since the two of you already followed each other.

you parked your car outside their house and adjusted your lip gloss in the rearview. you were a little nervous for some reason. maybe it was the fact that you were late, maybe it was the new people you were meeting, or maybe it was the vlog.

you have your own youtube channel but being apart of other people's videos always made you feel a little awkward.

you texted mandy that you arrived and headed for the front door, martin opening it before you could knock.

"someone's a little late" martin joked as he let you inside. "oh my god i forgot you guys went bald. that was a freaking jumpscare." you teased.

mandy came up to give you a hug "i know, they look insane. i did not approve." she said  before you were introduced to chase and claire. chase walked up with the camera, focused on you. "hi youtube" you stuck out your tongue.

"now that y/n is finally here, the trio outfit is complete." claire handed you a set of pajamas, matching the ones her and mandy had on. you grinned and complimented the set before hamzah came out from the back hallway.

"oh hey, didn't know you got here already" he dapped you up. "boi yes you did, literally went to the bathroom to fix his hair" claire teased. "oh wait..." chase joined in, making you laugh.

"i don't know why he's got this freaking tuque on anyways. embrace the bald dude, embrace the skin." martin pulled his beanie down and rubbed hamzah's bald head, urging hamzah to push him away.

"yo! he just fucking sniffed me" hamzah laughed, grabbing his beanie from his hand. "we're just cucking the viewers i guess" martin said, leaving everyone just staring at him awkwardly.

"yeah anyways, y/n you could go change in my room" mandy told you. "heh, just be careful what you find in there" martin leaned into a shrug. "dude stop" hamzah flicked his hand over martin's head.

once you were changed, chase made you do a twirl for the camera and you posed before tripping out.

"so how come y/n gets a pajama set, but you said no to me?" martin asked mandy. "cause she's one of the girls and you're not a girl"

"plus nobody told you to wear them freak ass leggings boi" hamzah teased him and you laughed. he looked over at you, taking in the fact that he made you laugh.

hamzah always thought you were really pretty and cool, even back when you first followed each other during the 4freakshow days. you didn't even have a youtube channel back then, only posting random tiktoks he thought were funny.

"alright y'all let's get to baking, i'm hungry" chase said behind the camera before flipping it towards him.

you stood next to hamzah as claire pulled up the recipe on her tiktok and her, mandy, and chase got started on measuring things out.

“you can’t just do it willy nilly style brah, measure it” you told martin as he began pouring sugar into the mix. “sometimes you have to live life on the edge, y/n” martin scoffed.

as you continued baking the cookies, you realized how glad you were that you decided to come. martin and hamzah were always a hoot but you really liked claire and chase too.

“noo it was my legs and he said ‘you’re scratching your ass’” claire defended herself from chase and hamzah’s teasing. “girl no i was right behind you”

“we’re having booty cookies” “we got fucking booty flavor” you and hamzah joked at the same time, causing you to crack up and slap his arm.

you took your hand off, not expecting his bicep to be so strong. he nudged you with his elbow, still laughing.

“so, are you actually gonna help bake, y/n?” chase playfully raised his eyebrow. “right, standing here doing nothing” hamzah added. “oh bitch says you, who’s actually done nothing. mr. nonchalant baldhead.” you joked, grabbing the camera from chase and putting it in hamzah’s face.

“boi get outta here boi” he laughed.

while the cookies baked, you guys moved on to putting up the christmas tree. you sat down with chase and claire and began unfolding the branches of the tree. hamzah followed suit, taking a seat on the floor next to you.

rudy walked up to hamzah, who grabbed him with one hand under his belly and placed him in his lap. “awww rudy, who’s a cutie cootie coo. ah poochy poochy poo” you reached over hamzah’s leg to pet the dog.

you scratched behind his ear, unknowing of hamzah staring at you while you did it. “alright let’s put in some freaking work guys” claire said and hamzah lifted rudy into the couch behind him.

“why do you literally manhandle everything that comes your way?” you teased. “like in the video where you’re flinging around fish” hamzah just chuckled in response.

“wait chase, i like your leggings” claire said from behind the camera. “what these aren’t leggings?”

“i’m just saying i’ve never seen a boy wear leggings, it’s a compliment”

“they’re not leggings, they’re thermals! they’re long johns..long johns?” martin retorted, displaying his leg out in front of the other. “you’re wearing fucking leggings”

you and hamzah stifled your laughs in the corner as they continued and martin teared up, walking off with the camera as a bit. “claire you actually made him cry” you giggled.

you felt hamzah lean himself closer to you, taking advantage of the laughing fit everyone was in.

after a while, the cookies were done as you finished decorating the tree, adding a little christmas bunny along with everyone else’s personalized ornaments.

you turned around to hamzah manspreading on the couch, trying to ignore your thoughts about how sexy it was and followed everyone else into the kitchen.

you all iced the cookies before doing a taste test, “boi crumbl cookie could neverrrr” you joked, as the cookies actually turned out bad. “this shit is way too sweet oh my god” hamzah said, spitting his into the trash. “ew dude have some manners” martin scolded him.

once mandy ended the vlog, you all lounged around her living room until you got a emergency text from your roommate.

“bruh, my roommate messed up something with our dryer. i have to go” you frowned. “awww noooo” chase frowned with you. “it was really nice meeting you” he said. “yeah, you’re funny as fuck” claire added. “oh i love you” you hugged her before getting your coat off the rack.

“im so glad you actually came” mandy said. “well thanks for inviting me” you playfully stuck out your tongue. “i’ll see you next time we hang out in like four to six weeks” you said, sarcastically. “ugh tell me about it” she smiled as you dapped martin.

hamzah came out from the bathroom, “you’re leaving?” he asked. “yeah my roommate needs help” you pressed your lips together. “oh…..it was cool seeing you though” he dapped you up, pulling you into a small hug. “you too” you smiled, holding his hand a little longer before your phone buzzed again.

“anyways merry christmas and happy holidays everyone! byeeeee” you closed the door behind you and head for your car.

lvryn

Liked by hamzahthefantastic and others

lvryn mini dump 💩

user omg is she the reason hamzah was acting so mysterious this video

user yall saw the way they were so close to each other this video

user love your whole life 😍

— 🐞

[pretty-little-mind33]

Heyyy lovely! I was hoping maybe that you would do like a James x debutant!reader where he’s the escort? Like some cute fluffy waltzing and a little spicy BUT NOT SMUTTY where he sees reader in a white dress and just melts. I just finished rewatching tsitp and I’m also about to be a debutant! I’ve never submitted an ask before so I hope this is right

this is totally right, no worries, lovely! yay to you being a debutant! i hope you don't mind me writing this as a shorter blurb 😊 enjoy!

~ * ~

James has seen many beautiful things over the last eighteen years, but nothing compares to when he saw you in your dress.

He'd always joked with his friends that these debutants balls were useless and slightly elitist—and you had nodded along until one evening when you gathered up the courage to ask him to be your escort because you did want to go.

"Me?" James's voice was high and nervous as he lifted his head from your lap and the movie continued to play in the background.

"Y-yeah, you. You're my best friend," you said, looking at him hopefully. "I don't wanna take some random guy I don't know." Your nose had scrunched up in disgust and James laughed, his chest feeling warm that you invited him and not Sirius, or Remus, or even Peter.

Him.

"You know I don't like those kind of things," James teased as he sat up and dug his feet into your thighs, distance barely existent between you both.

"Please," you whispered, your eyes pleading and he hadn't been able to continue the ruse, giving in to you immediately.

And seeing you now, in your white cream-colored dress, he doesn't regret that decision at all.

You look more than beautiful. He holds out his arm, feeling how soft your hand is when you take his arm and his grin widens. He feels like the luckiest boy here to have you on his arm.

James tries his best to remember the dance but he's so distracted by your smile as he stumbles on his feet as you waltz.

"Jamie," you whisper, hiding a giggle as his grip tightens on your waist so he doesn't completely lose balance.

"It's your fault, Y/n/n," he whispers back, his mouth pressed to your hair as you continue to the dance, his voice shaky. "Distracting me with your beauty. It's unfair, really."

Your smile widen. "Is it now?"

James hums, twirling you around. "Very much."

"You're impossible," you laugh as he pulls you closer to him, his eyes locked onto yours. He lifts his hand, breaking the dance by pushing some hair behind your ear and sends you a lopsided grin.

"You love me," he teases, his voice soft.

You look at him, your pupils wide as the other dances and important people in the room fade into nothing until it's just him. You think those words mean much more to you than him but you say them anyway.

"I do. I love you."

James shivers and his eyes sparkle. Everyone else in the room is also forgotten to him because all he cares about is you. His gaze flickers to your lips, thinking you don't notice but secretly hoping you do.

He wants to kiss you more than anything.

So, when he finally has you pressed gently against the wall of the hallway after the dance, away from everyonem, all he can think of is your lips.

James leans in close and whispers. "Can I?"

Your heart skips and you look at him, eyes wide as you feel his hand slip to your thigh, bunching up your dress as he guides your leg around him. He's patient and slow and so gentle.

You let a moan slip from your mouth but he captures it as he kisses you. You kiss him back instantly, your arms wrapping around his neck as you pull him closer.

Kissing your best friend shouldn't feel this good.

James pushes himself closer to you, his hips against yours as he deepens the kiss and then trails his lips down your neck to your collarbone. "I love you too, you know that right?" he says, sounding breathless. "Much more than I should. God, you drive me insane."

"James." His name slips from your lips, needing him so badly.

"Shh, dovey, we have all the time in the world. I want to take my time with you," he says and drops your leg, kissing your forehead. "I don't want to rush us."

You nod, understanding where he's coming from. You smile at him, catching your breath. As you look at him in his pretty suit and red lip-stick stained lips, this feels surreal.

"Is this real?" you whisper shyly.

James chuckles and winks, kissing your cheek. "Very real. Now c'mon, our parents and friends are gonna wonder where we are," he finishes and takes your hand, squeezing it as he guides you back into the main ballroom.

Your cheeks feel perpetually warmer and you're afraid they'll never cool down as long as James is near you—not that you're complaining at all.

[leviraaaaaa]

–Where the waves fade–

"Isn't this enough exploring? We're way too far."

"Hush," You threw your hand in an airy wave, indicating him to be quiet. "We're not that far, I can still hear Hange from here."

You continued to walk, paying no mind to the streak of grumbles and mumbled curses he let out under his breath. This was the first ever time here at the sea, and you were way too entranced by it. Not to mention, Levi is Levi and he'll complain no matter what you do so you learnt long ago to just shut up and let him sulk.

You looked sideways, where the endless blue went on, waves crashing just besides your feet. Sometimes, particularly large waves washed over your feet, the water trickling over your shoes. You could feel the sand slipping way underneath, just barely enough to make you slightly unstable. It was windy, the air making your hair fly everywhere, you could taste the saltiness.

You had separated yourself from the small chaotic group, letting yourself stray away, following where the wind goes. You walked alongside the beach, sand had slipped through your boots somehow, making it uncomfortable but you didn't really care. If you're gonna see the sea might as well experience it too.

It felt good.

Like freedom.

Though clearly, Levi did not share the same point of view.

"God knows what Hange is doing, can you for fucks sake, turn around?" He called out, glancing warily from you to the back, where you could just barely see the top of the heads of Hange and the others, conflicted on whether it was safe to leave them there on their own but also hesitant to leave you as well. His shoulders were tense, even the experience of seeing something as miraculous as the sea couldn't relax him a little.

"I didn't ask you to follow me, Levi." You sighed, looking over your shoulder to meet the eyes of the man who was grumpily walking behind you. "Go back, I'll be fine."

"Yeah sure." He scowled. "I leave and then you drown."

You only rolled your eyes, not bothering to respond.

"Where the hell are you going anyways? You don't know shit around here, it's not safe."

"I dont know. I'm just walking." You halted, turning around. "Levi." You said.

"What?"

"Walk with me."

"I am."

"No, you're walking behind me, come and walk beside me." You gestured him forward. "It's okay, I won't shove you down the water."

He gave you a wary look that clearly said I don't trust you but he fastened his pace anyway, until he was beside you. He glanced down at your soggy and sand covered boots, making a repulsed expression. "You ruined your fucking shoes."

You followed his glance, looking down. "True." You smiled. Then you leaned down, hooking your fingers through the edge and took your boots off, one after the other. You threw them both somewhere behind you carelessly. Levi stared at you horrified.

"What are you doing?" He asked blankly.

"Taking my shoes off?" You mumbled, digging your heels in the sand. It felt ticklish and weird, but so soft too. "Now, there's no shoes to ruin."

"You're disgusting."

"It's just sand Levi."

"It's disgusting."

"Come on, it feels good."

"If you're trying to convince me to do the same you've gone insane.”

Safe to say, you paid no heed to him. Instead, tiptoeing over the sand carefully, you started edging towards the water. The waves crashed hard, trickling water through your toes and almost making you lose your balance but you felt glee.

“There could be like a million fucking things in there,” Levi was complaining gruffly, “We don't know shit about this place. And all of you are acting like children. Hey, are you even listeni—”

“Levi, I'm gonna run in.”

“Wh—”

But he didn't even get to finish his sentence and you were already running, squealing loudly when the wind hit you hard, the water splashing around you high with every clumsy and wild step you took and in a second you were drenched. “Oh my god!” You let out an excited laugh when a big wave crashed against your ankle, almost tipping you off. You twirled, giggling. “Oh my god!"

“Are you sure you're not gonna come in?” You yelled at him loudly, barely audible through the loud wind.

He looked down at the water, warily stepping away and casting them a suspicious glare crept closer to his boots with every wave.

He thinks. He doesn't like water. Water is unpredictable. Water is chaotic. Water is not something he can control and he doesn't like things he can't control.

But he looked at you again and all denial seemed to leave him.

The expanse of blue stretched far beyond where his eye could see. The sea was mesmerizing, timeless. But so were you.

So were you.

And for a second, Levi's head was blank.

He wasn't watching the sea anymore. All he could see was you. You, with that radiant smile of yours, in the endless blue with your hair wet and flying around everywhere, water dripping down your face. The ocean glittered, and even from here, he could see the water drops that clung to your lashes, the sheen on your lips. The flowy white blouse you wore was now completely drenched, the fabric stuck to your skin. Far in the horizon, the sun was lower, just about to set. It was sending its last few bright rays and it hit you, painting the most dazzling scene he'd ever seen.

He could hear your laughter, high and sweet, creating a beautiful harmony as the wind howled alongside, the sea roaring with every crash.

You looked unreal.

Temptations. He knew. He knew he should know better. But when had he ever known better when it came to you?

You were you and he was only just a man.

He was only a man.

Slowly, he lowered down, his fingers moving swiftly to untie the laces of his boots. He rolled up his pants and his sleeves. Then slower, even slower, he took a step.

The joy of you was beyond words. You could hardly keep your happiness contained, glowing in excitement when you saw him cautiously edging in the water with the grumpiest face. You were almost bouncing. “See?” You exclaimed happily, grinning at him. “It's not so bad right?”

When you reach out your hand, he takes it. He lets you guide him through the cold water lapping at his feet. “It's fucking freezing.” He scoffed, goosebumps rising on his skin. The sand felt weird underneath, it made him feel unstable, like something kept shifting out of his feet and he was floating.

As if on cue, a big wave crashed, kicking the balance from your feet. You'd already been swaying, unused to the constantly shifting water and the soft ground. As the water rushed past you, you almost tipped over

“Oh fuck—” The curse escaped you as you felt your feet lose it's hold and you leaned forward. But Levi was quicker, his arms grabbing onto your waist before you fell face first, stabilizing you. You shot an apologetic grin towards him, holding on his arms to regain your balance. He did not look impressed.

“I warned you.” He said flatly. “I'm not gonna fish you out if you fall and drown and die.”

“You just did though.”

“Keep talking and that'll change.” But his grip tightened around you.

You didn't push further. You've already pushed your luck far beyond when you'd managed to get him into the water. If you pushed further, chances were he'd drag you out of here. Nope, you'll take what you get.

The two of you stood like that for a while. The chilly water licked at your knees, rushing up to meet you as you just let the rhythm of the waves brush over you, the horizon stretching out into infinity. The salty air filled your lungs as you shared this unspoken moment—a glimpse of something bigger, a freedom so rare in your world that neither of you knew how long it would last.

“It's beautiful, isn't it?” You said softly, gaze set on the horizon. The setting sun gleamed off of your eyes.

Is it? He wondered as he looked at you. You were watching the ocean with the widest eyes, like you'd been entranced by it.

The ocean was beautiful. In its own strange way. There was this vastness about it, endlessly stretching blue. But he could hardly be aware of what was before him when you were beside him.

You're beautiful, is what he wants to say.

It's something in your eyes, he thought. The certain spark only you've ever had. There was an entire ocean in your eyes. There was an entire universe in your eyes. He wanted to tell you he had already seen everything beautiful there was to see. He doesn't need the fucking ocean or the mountains or the stars, everything you're always being sappy about. He had the fate to look at you.

He doesn't say any of it though. He doesn't have the guts too.

Instead, he slides his fingers through yours. You look surprised, but you don't pull away. He almost stop breathing when your hold tightened.

He didn't know what you were thinking and he didn't want to know. He hoped you think it's because he doesn't want you to fall or to trip. He hoped you wouldn't feel the rush of blood in his ears that howled louder than the wind ever could. He hoped you didn't see the look on his face or hear the heart that was slamming against his chest.

He hoped that you would never find out. But he was so, so scared. So scared as the sun set and the light was leaving the world, with the waves washing away, that if he doesn't hold on to you, you'd slip through his fingers. You'd fade. You'd disappear like every good thing he's ever had in his life.

So he held on.

[taehyunismm]

ATEEZ'S FAVORITE THINGS ABOUT YOU ! (HYUNG LINE)

A/N: lol this is my first work after being on a longggggggg writing hiatus! (like two years) I honestly hope this doesn't flop but at the same time..you never know what’ll happen LMFAO just sit back and enjoy

cw: kys/kms jokes, cursing, some nsfw content (only for yunho and yeosang)

✰ HONGJOONG !

oh he loves how soft your hands are all the time

he will literally take your hands and rub your hands all over his face forcefully because he loves how they smell and how smooth they are.

"what are you doing..?" you say as he grabs your phone out your hand and starts rubbing his head all over your hands.

"im so sorry i just love the scent of your hands." he says giving the palm of your hands small lazy kisses.

"umm..okay you do your thing joongie!" you say as you play with his hair.

oh and do not get me started on his love for your hair.

he literally loves how soft your hair feels and how good it smells

he'll ask to put your hair in braids as an excuse to get close to your hair and smell it.

"okay what is up with you?" you can feel a big head coming in behind you.

"oh..im sorry my girlfriends hair just smells amazing!" he says twirling the ends of your hair.

"youre so weird but i love you."

oh he is OBSESSED with the way your body curves.

whenever you wear any kind of dress that fits your curves perfectly and really makes them noticeable he will go fucking INSANE.

he'll start stuttering throughout his sentences while your just staring at him confused on why hes so nervous with you in that outfit.

"i-i wow..?" hongjoong wipes his drool from his bottom lip turning back to reality.

"gosh do i look bad or something? pfft..im going to change youre making me annoyed." you say running your fingers through your hair and walking back to your closet.

"NO! i mean..no. you look..great! im just getting..flustered." he can feel his cheeks heating up after every word that comes out his mouth."

girl what the fuck

okay maybe hes right..you do look great and out of this world.

"okay..? anyways..lets just go, we're taking my car." you say throwing the keys to hongjoong as he catches them and follows behind you.

✰ SEONGHWA !

oh this man loves your eyes

he always finds some excuse to justify why hes staring at you

always asking to put your contacts in so he can admire how pretty your eyes are.

"pleaseee can i put them in?" he begs literally getting on his knees infront of the bathroom.

"i said no. im putting on my glasses today." you say while cleaning your lenses.

"but babyyy!" he says giving you a tight back hug and resting his chin on your shoulder while pouting.

"you are the biggest crybaby ive ever met."

he loves how competitive you are when it comes to games because its funny to watch when you rage quit

when you two were playing roblox obbys together you got mad that you accidently broke your laptop screen because you slammed it too hard.

"im going to literally fucking kill myself if you get to the end before me seonghwa." you say spamming your space button as many times as you can to avoid the red laser. you take a look at seonghwas screen since he was awfully quiet and you saw that he was already flying over the whole map with his stupid fucking rainbow trail.

"YOU FUCKER!" you say exiting out the game and slamming your screen down..and that does not end up well. you open your screen back up and your whole screen is shattered.

you start to tear up as you can hear seonghwas devilish laugh in the background.

"im calling apple care im not doing this right now.." you say taking out your phone and dialing their number for apple care waiting for them to pick up.

✰ YUNHO !

he is horribly obsessed with your face

like literally everything about your face weirdly turns him on

"please dont look at me like that i think im about to bust a nut in my pants." he says putting a pillow over on his lap.

"eww youre gross!" you say jokingly pushing him.

he wraps you in his arms and brings you on top of him cuddling you to death.

"could i get a kiss my pretty girl?" he says pouting and looking into your eyes with puppy eyes. you roll your eyes and scoff at the sudden question.

"fine." you say connecting your lips to yunhos while running your fingers through his soft hair, he slowly moves his hands to grip your ass squeezing it softly as you grind slowly on his clothed boner.

he groans softly in your mouth pulling away from the kiss and looking you up and down.

"gosh you are so beautiful, i fucking love how long your lashes are and how cute your lips are." he says softly caressing your cheeks as you put on your cheesy smile and burry your head in the crook of his neck.

✰ YEOSANG !

he loves when you cuddle him !

as you two are about to go to bed you both don't sleep with clothes on..really only panties for you and hes just wearing his boxers.

he really does love skin ship when it comes to sleeping with you

he likes to tightly hug you from the back whenever your mad at him and don't really want to look him in the eyes for the night.

oh and when your horny..he gets horny.

you rub your ass on his cock on purpose to see how he reacts even though you get the same reaction everytime you do it. he roughly pinches your nipples making you moan in pain.

"you bitch! that hurt!" you say turning around to him pouting. he laughs in your face as he caresses your hair.

"well your the one that wants to be bad. do you really want to test my waters right now?" you look him in the eyes with a smirk and tilt your head.

"do i sir?" you say smashing your lips onto his in an instant.

anddd the rest in most definitely up to your imagination! LMFAOO have fun!!

[prettyb0ycvnt]

hi freaks of tumblr . here's my introduction post teeheehee <3

my name is aiden ! i am an eighteen year old queer trans man - pre-op and pre-t unfortunately ... but whatever im still hot. giggles and twirls hair.

more about me :3

☆ freakiest virgin you've ever met. i'd like that to CHANGE but uhhghhh the most i can get is freaks on tumblr (hit me up lalalala)

☆ real life prince charming pupboy :3 !!!

☆ literally not an ounce of dominance inside me at ALL i'm very submissive!!!! to an insane extent!!!

☆ bottom.

☆ perpetually in heat actually. need that to be rectified

☆ bst timezone. british twink moving like Oh Good Heavens... Oh My... Good Grief...

☆ my asks are open all the time to anyone! dms are open for mutuals only (i'm totally open to conversation & sharing things with moots as long as ur respectful!!). i prefer getting asks; i'm bad with managing messages. also feel free to dm or ask me stuff if you just wanna be friends!!! blank blogs do not message me it weirds me out x

☆ i'm a writer! my posts may tend to get real descriptive if i'm not hornied-out beyond all comprehensive thought!!

☆ i am transgender and a lot of the stuff i post will focus on this :3 !!! my posts will reference fem biology but i'm not a girl don't call me one or i'll rip my hair out and die.

☆ im a queer man !! still fully figuring out where my attraction lies but i do know i have a very heavy male pref. please don't repost my stuff if you're a cishet blogger or a 'men dni' blog im literally a. man and i love men and i talk about loving men and im the antithesis of everything u stand for . all queer freaks (including. wlw!!!) can do whatever they want with my posts :3

☆ some of my non-freakish interests include acting, literature, writing, baking, reading and certain fandoms that i don't want to explicitly reference in case this post appears to them uhm feel free to ask me about them!!!

claimed anons: 😵💫 ; 👾 ; 🪰; 🍁 ; ⚒ ; 🍓 ; 🐈‍⬛ ; 🎈

dni: minors, MAPs, bigots of any kind, trans fetishisers, ed & sh blogs, ageless blogs, weirdo freaks of the bad kind!!

tags

#☆ aiden's corner -> silly thoughts of mine!! sometimes they r Slightly lesser hornyposting... sometimes they're just funny things ithink of. sometimes its just me talking about whateva welcum to aiden's corner !!

#☆ aiden's freakish thoughts -> hornyposting to the maxxxx.... under this tag im a FREAAKKK

#☆ aiden's pics -> me lawl. usually just tummy :3

#☆ aiden's audio -> aiden whines like a bitch

#☆ reblogs -> stuff i find relatable or stuff i find super duper hot . perhaps both at the same time!!

#☆ anon -> answering anonymous asks!

#☆ asks -> when used alone, answering non-anon asks! also used in conjunction with #☆ anon :3

me if u even care

okay thats all i can think of rn ummm anyway. stuff i'm into & limits under the cut :3

i looove >_< !!!

praise, degradation, breeding, petplay, major voice kink!, exhibitionism, voyeurism, humiliation, objectification, free-use, cockwarming, royalty, dumbification, somnophilia, forcemasc and ummm probably more you should totes talk to me so we can find out!

limits >:[ !!!

detrans/misgendering, forced feminisation, scat, bestiality, watersports, blood, basically any bodily fluids that aren't cum or spit, intox related to alcohol specifically, anything to do with feet, feederism, weight gain/weight loss, incest/fauxcest, ageplay, rape, daddy/mommy, pregnancy, basically everything else that's super fucking weird and unethical. -> if you're into these things that's totally fine!! i'd just prefer they're not brought up in regards to myself ^_^

bodily terms for myself :3

not on t nor have i had surgery so i still very much have female parts and im fine with them being referred to as such!!! acceptable terms include cunt, pussy/boypussy, slit, hole, clit, chest, tits, (t-)cock& (t-)dick !! all i ask is that the term vagina is not used.

things i like being called >_<

please refer to me with masculine or neutral terms, nothing feminine. degrading terms like whore, bitch, slut and any other varieties (cumslut, etc.) are 100% okay! in fact please call me them!! praising terms like good boy are wooonderful. call me puppy/pup and ill explode and die (in a good way!!!) tbh literally call me anything as long as its not feminine and i'll love it. lalalalaa

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

ok for real though i go so insane for the fact that Lucanis owns a pet snake. i'm a real life snake owner and soooo few characters in media have snakes... like i went through some Elaborate headcanons to justify giving Dorian a pet snake in DAI... and veilguard then just dumped a man who canonically has one straight into my lap!!!!! i was doomed from the start

kicking my feet twirling my hair imagining what types of snakes the various crows all own... it really is the standard assassin pet apparently. Viago obviously has venomous snakes that he keeps for their venom (for poisons, making antivenin, and to build his own tolerance). i don't think he'd consider them Precious Pets but i think he would enjoy that this is an animal where interactions are very clearly transactional and build to trust. like a snake will never Love you the way a pet mammal will (their brains simply do not produce/uptake oxytocin) but you can still form bonds with them and i think he would appreciate that this process happens in a very logical way you can predict. And he keeps them in absolutely PRISTINE care (his quote in Eight Little Talons about the one he picks up there is "He deserves my respect. And a good home—with all the mice he can eat”).

Lucanis on the other hand, I think would understand the snake does not love him but still be more attached to his emotionally anyway. maybe because he's used to loving people who don't actually care about his well-being 😭 But I think he'd appreciate a pet he can actually freehandle more. House Dellamorte is not known for poisons the way the de Rivas are, and they might still have an adder on hand for venom reasons but it's more likely they just borrow some of Viago's if needed... poison's just not their niche. If Lucanis was the one picking out a pet I think he would go for a non venomous or rear-fanged variety (aka, some venom but unlikely to bite a human) so he can actually hold it without being on high alert (i mean, in our world, you should never freehandle hots, but people do anyway & would in fiction too. but its a very fuck around/find out scenario). I feel like he and Illario would probably have the same type of snake since they grew up as brothers--Illario also clearly had an emotional attachment to his own pet snake since he got mad at Lucanis irl for a dream he had where Lucanis threw the snake out the window [EDIT: I misremembered this part, it was Viago's dream. Though I think I do remember an in-game reference to Illario also having a snake..?]. So i think both of them having a pet they play with/dote on a little more than is actually needed for a reptile fits really well here.

now as for specific pet snake species headcanons. We have VERY little detail in the snake lore in Dragon Age, despite Tevinter using it as a symbol of the country alongside dragons. i PRESUME there's many kinds of species around but who knows what... the only one we ever get mentioned by name* is in Eight Little Talons, where the writer refers to the snake Viago picks up there as an "adder" or a "death adder" but never anything more specific. Unclear if this is just writers thinking an adder is a specific species and not a class of snake or if there's only one type of adder in Antiva. I mean there's like 200 species of snake in North America and 100 or so in Europe and SOOOO MANY MORE in the tropics/asia (to be fair, there's only like 3 species in England and none in Ireland, but that's sad and those countries are tiny islands and exterminated wildlife/wildlands on purpose so we're not applying that to Thedas). Antiva has coastline and is warmer and I'd roughly classify it as similar to the Mediterranean in terms of climate, with colder winters farther inland and more humidity/closer to subtropical up north. Without the benefits of modern electricity they'd probably be keeping animals that can do well at ambient temperatures for the region. Treviso is on the coast of a bay (not full oceanic) and not too far south of Rivain, so I think we can guess at fairly mild winters & hot summers, probably tending towards drier but with monsoon-influenced humidity.

(*technically an earlier character in Tevinter Nights refers to a "venomous drake-adder" but he was lying about it being there, and we have no way to tell if he picked a real snake to pretend was around OR just made up a scary sounding snake name. alas.)

Now... given the Crow's general penchant for aesthetics I think both Dellamorte boys would be drawn to a dramatic looking variety, like a mexican black kingsnake or white-lipped python. sadly both of these absolutely stunning species are both a bit outside the climate preferences I specified (mbk live closer to true desert, wlp true tropical). I also am charmed by the idea that they caught the snakes themselves in the wild vs purchasing them, becuase that's such a childhood animal-lover thing to do (my grandma used to tell horrified stories of my dad/uncles bringing home "wagons full of snakes" they found playing outside). SO i think my top choices are either the European Thedosian cat snake (Telescopus fallax), which is a rear-fanged beauty with a grey and white checkerboard pattern. OR a Mediterranean Antivan Grass Snake (Natrix natrix, astreptophora, or helvetica), which has the added bonus of badass keeled scales . While the grass snakes come in many beautiful color morphs due to the aforementioned crow drama I am inclined to give them the melanistic color variant, for the beautiful dark black appearance. Although I am also happy with the greener varieties :) All of the above average a little over 3ft in length as adults, so reasonable pet sized. Some of the Natrix genus are more aquatic than others so would be fed on frogs rather than (or in addition to) mice, and I do enjoy the mental image of Lucanis & Illario going out once a week to hunt for dinner for their pampered pets, falling into ponds on whatever estates they're currently being trained at :) as a lighthearted contrast to, you know. every other aspect of being raised as a Crow.

Left to right: Telescopus fallax, melanistic Natrix natrix, and Natrix astreptophora)

[heizlut]

Zandik’s Whore

cw: rough sex, corruption kink(?)

tags: mean tutor!zandik, bimbo f!reader, corruption kink(?), one use of y/n (sorry 🥺), petnames: cockslut, slut, pet

nsfw under the cut

check out my masterlist here!

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Zandik sat quietly in the library completely engrossed in a book. He was trying to take his mind off the fact that he was being forced to tutor a ditzy girl like you. If he could’ve declined, he would’ve but he didn’t have a choice as he was in the top of his class and needed extra hours to add to his transcripts. You were on the verge of failing the one class you absolutely needed to pass in order to graduate. Zandik didn’t know what drove him more insane, your lack of brains or the skimpy little outfits you wore as you pranced around campus all bubbly and smiling brightly.

Soon enough, he hears the clicking of heels sound through the quiet library. He looks up to see you walking in wearing a pretty little sundress, your hair bouncing as you walked towards him with a bright smile on your face. He feels his pants tightening as he observes you but tries to push away those thoughts, offering you a cold glare.

Oblivious to his outward distaste for you, you approach him happily, “Hello! I was told you’re the one who’s going to be tutoring me. Zandik, right?” He fights the urge to roll his eyes at your cheerful attitude and closes his book, “Yes, that’s me.. unfortunately.. You must be y/n.” You nod and plop yourself down in the chair right next to him. As you do so, the subtle smell of your delicious perfume surrounds him and your bare leg brushes against his, making his cock begin to ache. “Thanks for agreeing to tutor me. All this information on ruin mechanics is really going over my head”, you pout, twirling your hair around your finger.

Seeing you pout like that only draws his attention to your plush, glossy lips. Zandik licks his own lips as he stares for a moment, then quickly clears his throat and returns to his usual cold demeanor, “It’s not like I really had a choice in the matter.. Anyways, this subject requires one to think critically. I can guide you through understanding the fundamentals, but it is ultimately up to you to retain the information.” You smile at him but then a dumb look crosses your features, “But I’m not good at retaining difficult information..”

Zandik blinks, “Well then I don’t exactly see how you’re going to pass if you can’t even retain the information I give you.” Your eyes begin to well up with tears and your bottom lip quivers slightly, “B-but if I don’t pass this subject t-then I won’t g-graduate.” Zandik lets out a disgruntled sigh, an idea forming in his head as he smirks internally, “Then I suppose I could provide you with some additional tutoring outside of our scheduled meeting times.” You give him a hopeful smile, placing your hand on his thigh, “You’d do that for me?” The feeling of your hand on his thigh almost makes him groan but he lets it get caught in his throat, “Of course, but this is only under the condition that you.. return the favor” As he says this, he reaches out and wipes the tears off your cheeks, resisting the urge to lick the saltiness of your tears off his thumb. Seeing you all pathetic in front of him, looking at him like he had hung the stars in the sky himself made him want to ruin you and that’s exactly what he’ll do.

A couple days later you find yourself in his dorm room, settled on his lap with his cock in your tight dripping pussy. Zandik has you cockwarming him, not bothering to thrust up into you unless you get the answer correct. His fingers toying with your cute little clit as he quizzes you on the composition of ruin mechanics. “And where does ruin technology come from?” Zandik asks as he continues to rub circles on your aching clit. “F-fontaine..?” You moan out. He slaps your clit harshly and growls lowly in your ear, “Wrong answer. Try again.” You cry out at the pleasurable sting, trying to move on his cock, “Mmph.. Please… Please fuck me.” His hand makes contact with your poor clit again, causing you to whimper, “Only good girls get fucked by my cock. Now try. Again. Where does ruin technology come from?” You bite your lip, desperate for some friction, and answer dumbly, “I-Inazuma?”

Zandik rolls his eyes and quickly pushes you onto your hands and knees. He pushes down on your back, causing you to arch so perfectly for him and he begins thrusting roughly into you, “What a brainless little slut. All you’re good for is taking my cock.” Your lewd moans fill the room as he pounds his thick cock in your soaked little cunt. Your eyes crossing and your tongue lolling out of your pretty little mouth. If only you knew just how incredibly dumb you looked right now. Zandik slaps your ass making you let out a pathetic whimper and he presses his chest to your back. His hot breath tickles your neck, “Once I graduate, I’m gonna make you into my pretty little assistant. My brainless little pet. All you’ll ever need to do is please me.”

You clench around his cock at his words, “Wanna be good f’you. Wanna be your good girl. Make you feel s’good…” Your words slurring together as all you can focus on is the way his thick cock hits all the right places. Zandik chuckles darkly as he bites down on your neck, releasing thick ropes of hot cum into your awaiting cunt, not caring that you haven’t cum just yet, “What a perfect cockslut you are already. All you’ll ever need is my cock, nothing else.” You whine as he pulls out of you and you feel his cum drip from your aching pussy, “Wanna cum, Zandik..” He grabs you by your hair, forcefully pulling you upright and making you look at him. You look so dazed and drunk from his cock, mouth hanging open slightly. Zandik clicks his tongue, “Now, now. Don’t be ungrateful. You’ll take what I give you.” He pinches your tongue between his fingers, pulling it to stick out slightly and he spits into your mouth then taps your cheek, “Now swallow.” You obediently swallow and he pats your head, “Good girl.”

He had you right where he wanted you, desperate and aching for his cock, his touch, his degrading words and praises. Such an obedient little thing. Why should he waste his time trying to fill your mind with information you couldn’t even comprehend when you could just be his little cockslut instead?

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a/n: hehe i like writing for dottore/zandik. if he becomes a playable character i’ll cum on the spot

[alysrivrs]

❛ ♡. gif credit. ⎯⎯ 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓. ❜

★ ⎯⎯ vampire!aemond intends to keep you—his blood singer.

𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋’𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾: i hope y’all are ready for this one—i tried making it a bit more darker, but aemond is still… pussy whipped, even though he wants to kill you, lol. also, i shall try (hopefully) to make a second version of this where aemond fucks & impregnates the reader—promise. anyways, reblogs & comments are deeply appreciated ! thank u. ♡

𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌: mdni, smut (not really), noncon & suggestive themes, dark!aemond, petite!reader, profanity, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, size kink, innocence kink, compulsion, manipulation, sexual tension, possessive & obsessive behavior, blood drinking, breeding kink, talks of forced pregnancy, pet names, dark romance, fluff—any grammatical errors are my own -- in advance, i sincerely apologize.

𝖽𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇: this is dedicated to my lovely friend, @arcielee. i hope you like it & enjoy reading it, love !

w𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍: 1.2k

𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃—𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃… 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

his precious, little blood singer.

“come here, darling,” he purred, his voice seductive and sickeningly sweet as he followed after you, his gait a slow, but purposeful prowl—almost like he was hunting you down as his next prey.

“n-no, no! you just want to kill me,” you wailed over your shoulder, completely hysterical and running down a spiral staircase in the red keep—your little feet softly pattering against the flagstones.

aemond sighed.

“don’t you trust me, my beloved? i shall never hurt you, i promise—‘twas only a suggestion,” he comments lightly, strolling casually down the long staircase behind you, hearing your little heart fluttering inside of your chest from anxiety and fear.

hmm, the perfect mix.

aemond licked his lips, hungry for you.

huffing softly, he continued following after you effortlessly, causing his cock to harden in his black leather breeches, as well as his sharp fangs to ache within his sore gums with desperation—a need to feed.

from you.

aemond purred, hearing your blood pumping through your heart as you tried—oh, so adorably, did you try running away from him yet again (‘twas a normal occurrence), your skin dewy and flushed from the exertion.

perfection, aemond thought to himself.

in a strange sense, he almost felt sorry for you—his shy, but sweet girl.

suddenly, the one-eyed prince appeared right in front of you, making you shriek in horror and halt abruptly—otherwise, you would’ve slammed right into his lean, hard-muscled chest.

“my love, do not run from me—don’t you see how much your resistance hurts me?” he frowned, reaching up with one of his big, veiny hands to gently twirl a lock of your luscious hair around one of his long index fingers—before he bent his knees slightly to lean his face down to your shorter level.

his sharp, prominent nose grazed the delicate skin of your neck, feeling intoxicated by your sweet scent as he smelled you, feeling you flinch.

aemond smirked, clearly getting off by your fear.

after another long moment of just smelling your soft, smooth skin—aemond cursed.

he wanted nothing more than to take you back to his chambers, get you into his bed and position you into the mating press, before biting your neck as he spilled his seed deeply inside of your tight, wet cunt—while he continuously drank your addicting blood until you passed out beneath him.

aemond relished that you were so short and small compared to him—he practically towered over your petite frame, making his loins ache terribly with the need to fuck you—hard and fast, almost like an animal in heat.

what the fuck was happening to him?

how… did you—this shy, innocent girl, captivate him so much, making his mind feel as if he were going completely insane with the need to have you, to taste you, to spill his seed inside of your womb until your belly swelled with his son.

somedays, he swore to the seven above that you were the one compelling him.

you whimpered, looking up at him pleadingly, your pretty eyes wet with unshed tears and your plump, kissable lips quivering.

“my sweet love,” aemond murmured, speaking mostly to himself as he tilted his head from your delectable neck, his nose now nuzzling yours—affectionately.

still, he ignored your pathetic pleas—you belonged to him, there was no escape now that he has caught you.

aemond smiled—all sharp, dangerous, and cruel.

the prince deeply inhaled, groaning lowly to himself as he took in your mouthwatering scent yet again—so close, your pulse was beating wildly and driving him nearly insane.

to him, you smelled heavenly—like lavender oils, vanilla, sweet and ripe for the taking.

surely, you would be aemond’s greatest damnation, if only he were not already cursed by this hellish existence of immortality—no thanks to his ex lover, alys rivers.

however, now he had you.

for his own twisted, selfish reasons (which he didn’t even understand, no human girl had ever captivated him the way you had), did he eventually decide he’d keep you—at least for a little while.

your blood—fuck, it smelled and tasted so delicious, as if he were a god feasting on the finest ambrosia. “now, you’ll be a good girl for me, won’t you?” he cooed mockingly, his violet eye flashing in amusement as you shuddered like a little lamb before him.

unknowingly, aemond had been feeding off of you for months—nearly a year.

it had seemed, that even with his compulsion over you, his charms also had a great effect on your innocent, naïve mind.

aemond chuckled softly, the black veins underneath his natural one-eye appearing, his fangs protruding out of his gums—he couldn’t control himself around you any longer.

he had to taste you—now.

…and forever.

leaning down once again near your neck, aemond wrapped his lean, strong arms around your trembling frame, tugging you closer towards him until you were snuggly pressed up against his tall, lithe frame.

mine, mine, mine.

“do not worry, my sweet girl—you will enjoy this, as you’ve always had,” he teased, before quickly leaning down and sinking his fangs into the soft skin of your neck, making you screech with pleasure.

you cried out, your petite frame falling limp in his strong arms, your head falling to the side as your eyes grew heavy, long lashes fluttering as more and more blood was taken from you.

somewhere, deep in your subconscious, you were grateful that aemond was able to hold you up so effortlessly—however, it still left a bitter taste in your mouth for the reason why he was holding you up in the first place.

tears spilled from your eyes, streaming down your flushed cheeks, your head beginning to feel fuzzy and your body felt numb—yet you also felt this indescribable feeling of euphoria, barely feeling the prince continuing to drink from you—hungry and greedy.

after several more moments, aemond pulled back, licking a tiny drop of crimson from the corner of his plush, curved mouth, smirking down at your vulnerable state.

“see? my darling girl, ‘twas not so bad,” he mused, gently reaching up with one of his calloused hands to gently cup one of your wet cheeks, the pad of his thumb wiping away a few tears.

you nodded slowly, obedient and pliant in his grasp, letting him do what ever he wanted with you.

“soon,” he began, his voice a sweet whisper, “you’ll be carrying my son in your womb—wouldn’t you like that, sweet thing?”

“y-yes, aemond—b-but i d-don’t think…” you started, your voice small and meek—only to be cut off with a bruising, passionate kiss, feeling aemond’s hands reach down to cup and squeeze your plump, little ass through the sapphire blue gown he compelled you to wear, in honor of him.

“shhh,” he hushed, his gaze intense and dangerous—almost like a warning.

his swollen, bloody lips brushed against yours, forcing you to taste the metallic taste of your own blood on his lips. “you needn’t worry about a thing, darling,” he continued in that same tone of voice—sickeningly sweet, charming and sadistic all at once.

“i shall take care of you, as i always have,” he promised, sweet and innocent.

but you knew better—still, you obeyed and kept quiet, like a docile doll.

then, his left sapphire eye gleamed menacingly, his violet eye trained on the side of your neck, his pupil dilated and observing as two, little streams of blood seeped out of the tiny, punctured holes in your neck, due to his bite—his one-eye sharp, piercing, and hungry as he looked at you.

“cantante,” aemond hissed, before your world turned black.

fin

[gay-wh0re-slut]

Hey, I'm new here and I was wondering if you could make a Rhea Ripley x fem!reader where Rhea is dressed up as a cop but they're spicing up their sex life?

I’ve had two requests for this one and i don’t blame y’all!! i went insane when i saw her come out in the cop costume with her pulling dom by the cuffs. my face is getting hot rn thinking about it lmaoooo anyway here it is for the two of you that requested cop rhea hehehehe

after writing: this is so long oopsies but i think it’s worth it

Rights

rhea x fem!reader

content: listen,, it’s spicy and extremely NSFW (handcuffs, oral sex, ass slappin’, fingerin’, strap usin’, praisin’, and degradin’)

You were doing the weekly grocery shopping of necessities and food. Rhea was out most of the week for work. You missed her more than normal and you made sure to tell her every chance you got. You were about halfway done shopping when she sent you a text. She said she had a surprise for you at home for when you got back and you couldn’t imagine what it was. You replied with an “Oooh can’t wait!!” and continued shopping.

You finally checked out and headed home. Walking through the door with all the bags because you refused to take two trips, you were surprised to see nothing had changed. You wondered where this surprise would be.

“Rhea?” you called out but no answer. You quickly put the groceries away, luckily there weren’t many, and search around the house.

You checked the home gym first, nope, then the dining room, no reason for her to be there, then the bathroom to see if she was in the shower, not there either. Finally, you ended with the bedroom. You left the door open when you left but it was closed now. You could see a red light peeking through the opening on the floor, which was weird because you don’t have any colored lighting in the bedroom.

“What are you up to?” you whispered as you knocked on the door lightly, “Rhea, baby?” as you slowly opened the door.

“Hands up!” she stood wide with her hands in the shape of a gun pointing at you. She was wearing a tight black body suit, a black vest that went around her shoulders, a police badge, a belt with a baton and her spiky platform boots. Her hair and makeup were done too.

“Oh my god,” as you closed the door behind you, “what are you doing?”

She slowly stepped towards you her hands still pointing, “I said put your hands up,” her voice was sultry and deep as she cocked an eyebrow.

You finally understood what was happening as you backed into the door, “yes, officer,” you played along. So you put your hands above your head, crossing them at the wrists leaning on the door. Your heart immediately started beating harder and in two places at that.

She puts her ‘hand gun’ away and pulls out a pair of cuffs, twirling them on her finger as she walks closer to you, “You’re under arrest for being too hot,” and she leans her body against yours, pinning you against the door with one hand holding your wrists and the other at your waist.

“Then you should be in my position, ma’am,” you smiled.

She gives you a sloppy kiss before taking your wrist and flipping you around so that you were facing the door.

She began to put the cuffs on you, “You have the right to remain silent,” she said quietly in your ear, “anything you say can and will,” her body pressed against yours once more, with her hands roaming all over, “be held against you in the court of…our bed,” she pulled you by the cuffs away from the door and turned you back around to face her. She lifted your head with her fingers by placing them under your chin, “Do you understand?”

You nodded your head, following your rights. This is the best surprise you’ve ever gotten, you thought to yourself.

“You can use your words, babygirl,” she cooed.

“Yes ma’am,” you choked out. Your mouth was dry, your pulse was through the roof and your pants were starting to feel too tight.

“Good girl,” she gripped your chin and landed another sloppy kiss before letting go. “Do you have anything on you that I need to be aware of?”

She was doing weirdly well with this whole thing, you wondered if she did research before hand. “No ma’am,” you responded.

“I think you need to be searched,” she smiled wickedly. Her hands began at your neck gently sliding down to your shoulders. Reaching your breasts, she gently squeezed both of them before moving down your waist to your hips. She walked around you, keeping her hands on you as she ran her hands down your back down to your ass, “Looks like we have a lot of something back here,” as she landed a good smack.

A small whimper came out of you involuntarily. As she wrapped her arms around you, pressing her body against yours once more, she ran her hands over your ribs then down to your hips. One hand held you in place as the other drifted down to your hot center, gently caressing it up and down. Which is when you noticed that she was kissing your neck as you let your head fall back onto her shoulder.

Your hands, though still cuffed, were gripping for any part of her that you could reach but her bottom half was just out of touch. She let go of you, but you lost your balance a little bit.

“Looks like you’re clean,” she walked back around you with her hand dragging along your shoulders. Her hand landed on your chest pushing you back until you sat on the bed. “If you’re good,” she bent down to face you as she dangled the keys to the cuffs in front of your face, “I’ll let you go, but if not,” her stare turned cold as she stood back up, “you’ll regret it,” she growled, “Understood?”

“Y-yes ma’am,” you were so nervous but so turned on.

“Good,” she smiled putting the keys back in the vest pocket. She caressed your face gently with her thumb as she cupped your cheek, “now wait here a minute,” and she went into your shared walk-in closet and closed the door behind her.

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding and hung your head, “Holy fuck,” you whispered to yourself. You readjusted on the bed to be more comfortable for whatever was going to happen next.

She comes back out with all the cop amenities still on but this time she was wearing a black lingerie one piece and you couldn’t think she could do it, but she was even hotter than before.

You immediately popped your head back up when you heard the door open and your jaw immediately dropped when you saw her. “Fuck me,” slipped out before you quickly shut your mouth.

“So impatient,” she was repeatedly hitting the baton in her hand as she waltzed towards you, “But don’t worry baby, we’ll get there.”

You so badly wanted her to take you right then no questions asked, anything she wanted, you’d do it but she loved to play the long game.

Her tattooed legs stopped in front of you. You couldn’t take your eyes off of them so she used the baton to lift your head for you to make eye contact with her icy blue eyes.

“Such a pretty little criminal,” she squinted, dragging the baton down your body to your thighs before picking it back up, “unfortunately for you, your hands are bound but that doesn’t mean you’re…useless,” her voice was smooth and calm, which scared you in the best way. “What ever shall we do?”

“Whatever you want,” you blurt out trying not to squirm for any sort of relief.

“Glad we agree,” her smile had an idea behind it. Stepping as close as possible, she was standing right above you with her legs on the outside of yours. She put the baton back on her belt before grabbing your face with force, “Let’s put you to use, hm?”

You nodded your head as best you could. You were willing to do anything at this point you were so desperate for her, you needed it.

In one swift motion, she swung one of her spiked heels onto the bed beside you and pushed your head into her glistening core, moving the black lace out of your way. You immediately knew what to do, so you began. You swiped your tongue over her wet folds hearing a moan from above you. She moved the loose hair from your face as she held your head with two hands, holding you in place. Continuing to move your tongue over and over, her moans were becoming louder and more frequent.

“Oh fuck,” her voice graveled followed by a sharp inhale.

You couldn’t help but smile into your movements. Flicking her sensitive bud, her hips began to, ever so gently, ride your face. You tried your best to add more pressure but the angle didn’t help much, but she didn’t seem to mind, so you kept on.

You began to suck on her clit, “God yes!” she yelled as you watched her head fall back. Her grip on your hair became tighter as you went on. She was dripping down your chin by now but you didn’t care. Releasing it with pop, you returned to lapping her up followed by the flicking once more.

It wasn’t much longer until she came, “FUCK,” she screamed as she pushed you further into her. Whines filled the room until she came down from her high, breathing heavily as she moved your head away. She lazily dropped her leg from the bed.

You licked lips off her as much as you could before she used the edge of the comforter to clean you off, “You’re so good at that,” she breathed, “even without your hands.”

“Thank you,” you giggled. You had no clue what her plans were and you couldn’t wait to see what she would come up with next. You were writhing in anticipation.

She pulled the collar of your shirt to make you stand, “You haven’t done your time just yet,” she whispered centimeters away from your face. Her eyes flicked from your lips to your eyes and back to your lips, it drove you insane but you didn’t dare do anything about it. To your relief, she gave you a brief kiss still gripping onto your collar before pushing you away.

She stepped back to admire you with her devilish grin growing on her face. You could tell she was thinking of what to do next.

She glided towards you and began to take your pants off, so you kicked your shoes off to help her. As she slid them down painstakingly slowly, she knelt down to help you out of them, throwing them towards the closet. She kissed your bare hips down to your thighs, but you kept your legs shut because you didn’t want her to see how she’s made you feel. She looked up at you, her eyes were determined.

She patted your thighs, “Spread ‘em,” she commanded.

You hesitated and shook your head, your face became red from embarrassment because your thighs were already slippery from just looking at her in the first place.

She unhooked the baton and shoved it between your knees, pushing your legs open, “I said spread,” as you wobbled your way open.

You shivered at the sudden burst of cool air on your hot center, feeling a string of your wetness drip down your thigh.

“Damn, baby, all this because of me?”

“Mhmm,” you whined biting your lip to prevent anything else coming out.

She slid the baton on your thigh gathering you, but then surprised you by sticking out her tongue and dragging the baton over it, cleaning it off, keeping eye contact the entire time.

“Oh my god,” your eyes wide at the sight.

She hummed with a smile in response as she hooked the baton back on. She glided her hands over your thighs causing goosebumps to form. She licked her lips before diving into you. Her skilled tongue smoothing over your clit.

You whined as your knees buckled, but she caught you, holding your legs in her strong arms.

“Please…let me l-lay down,” your head fell back, “I can’t-”

“Not if you want the cuffs off,” she paused to say before going right back without missing a beat.

“Fuck,” you moaned as she continued to lap you up.

You could feel her smiling into you as you forced yourself to stay standing. You were lucky she was able to hold you up or else you definitely would’ve fallen back on the bed by now because your legs were so weak.

The pressure in your stomach was easily forming and fast. “Baby, please,” you moaned, “I can’t stand much, fuck, longer.”

Without a word, she stood up, turned you around, pushed you on the bed face down, slapped your ass, and easily but carefully pushed her fingers inside of you.

“GOD,” you screamed gasping for air.

“Is this what you wanted?!” she was now plunging her fingers in and out of you while holding onto the cuff’s chain for stability.

“Yesss, fuck!”

“God, you’re such a whore,” she smiled.

You were so close to coming but you didn’t dare try without her permission. But you knew she could tell, your moans were more frequent, the way you felt on her fingers, but she loved to make you wait.

“Don’t you dare cum right now,” she slapped your ass again leaving a handprint immediately, “We’re not ready yet.”

What the hell does she mean by that, you thought. You yelped at the hit, but forced the knot back down as best you could. Suddenly, she pulled her fingers out and unlocked one of the cuffs, freeing your hands.

“Thank god,” you sigh with relief as you spread your arms out.

She rolled you over, threw you on the pillows and locked your hands once again to one of the many metal rods on the headboard.

“Fuck,” you grumped out of breath.

“Aww, all worked up and you can’t move,” she teased.

You threw her a look before she waved bye menacingly, and went back to the closet.

She quickly came back out with her strap on, twirling the key around her finger, “Are you going to be a good girl for me?”

You nodded your head in desperation as you watched her sauntering towards you.

“Because good girls,” she crawled onto the bed, “do as they’re told, but you don’t seem to be listening very well,” she sat on her heels between your legs as she dangled the key from her hand.

“I promise I’ll be good,” your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest.

“That’s better,” she bit down on the key, letting the spare hang out, as she moved on top of you.

She gently guided the strap into you as your back arched and your eyes snapped closed, “holy fuck,” you whined.

She began to slowly pump in and out of you before going full force. One of her hands found its way to your neck, closing around it.

Talking out the side of her mouth, “Look at you,” she grabbed the key, “doing so well, my pretty girl,” she breathed.

“Rhea,” you choked out.

“What, baby?” the bed was creaking as she pounded into you.

“Plea-”

“Do it,” she growled, “c’mon baby,” as she put the key back in her mouth.

You watched it dangle above you as she made eye contact with you. Her baby blues staring into your soul with desire made you lose it immediately. “OH GOD,” you screamed as she continued into you, “FU-U-U-UCK!”

You almost broke the head board you were pulling so hard, so she quickly unlocked one your hands letting your arms drop. You lazily let them fall to your sides gripping onto the sheets below as your back arched and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. She continued to plunge into you as you rode it out.

The hand on your neck moved to cup your jaw as she slowed down her movements, gently running her thumb over your cheek, “that’s it, baby.” She finally pulled out of you catching her breath, lying down next to you. She grabbed your cuffed hand and unlocked it, throwing the key and the cuffs to the floor. “You posted bail,” she joked.

“Finally.”

[petit-etoile]

Astarion is a taco bell worker who has not had a single day off in 2 years because his manager can't be assed to teach anyone else how to close. He longs to one day see the sun again and be free of these twisted and evil taco nights

in  motion,  in 3D

pairing: astarion/tav wordcount: 7,156 content warnings: please do not have sex in parking lots !! but anyway, all characters are in university & tacobellstarion works to pay for his law books, i use a lot of pet names from both spawn & ascended astarion, but he's not a vampire in this universe so his morality is mostly in tact,  nearly 7k of pure smut other tags: alternate universe - college/university, porn what plot/porn without plot, pwp, established relationship, semi-public s.ex, b.lowjobs, riding, c.reampie, shameless smut, taco bell, gender neutral tav archiveofourown: here.

tag list: @azrielshadows1nger, @pandimoostuff, @faevi, @microskies, @foreverthemaraudersera, @queenofthespacesquids, @claryvoyantfray, @6doodlaang14, @anne-isnotokay, @itshimbotime, @yeeteth-the-raven, @sessils,@8-opossums, @worryknotdear, @abirdaboxandachippedcup, @ghosts-and-ink, @b4um3pfl4um3, @gunslingerorchid, @hypopxia,  @m0ssytrees, @erysione, @odette-attackattack, @catching-fire-in-the-wind, @ashrio20, @wills-mental-illness be added to the taglist here

summary:  Fast food jobs may as well be from Avernus itself, yet Astarion clocks in every day for a night-shift at Taco Bell in his silly little purple hat and his silly little purple uniform.

College is already hard enough. Add in a job on the side that requires you to stay up long before even the partiest of party kids have gone to sleep, and life might start to seem even bleaker. Astarion may not have gone out of state for his college adventures, but it was still hard. The expense of the university, the expense of staying on campus, and the expense of wanting to afford textbooks unfortunately resulted in this.

He takes a long, exhausted look around the cluttered Taco Bell and considers sobbing on the floor. Despite all the work put in to make the building seem pristine, the shop always seems as though it’s been through some soft of galactic turbulence by the time the night has ended. The last thing Astarion wants to see is a catty text from the day shift saying things were still dirty. He might snap his phone if he sees Enver Gortash (saved in his phone as DO NOT ANSWER!!!) texting him at a bright and early seven in the morning.

Fast food jobs may as well be from Avernus itself, yet Astarion clocks in every day for a night-shift at Taco Bell in his silly little purple hat and his silly little purple uniform. He hates it  —  He loathes it more than anything else, but it’s the only thing that keeps him from sinking further into nearing-graduation depression. This is the only way he stays sane.

He slips his phone out of his pocket and taps in his password, a cute little anniversary date, and checks his text messages before anyone can rat him out to the team manager in the back. There’s a Snapchat that he can’t check and a few text messages, and he presses on them so desperately he thinks he might be going a little insane. It’s only been a few hours and yet…

LOML: i'm coming to get u!!

Astarion smiles so wide he thinks his face might crack. It makes him giggle, swing his feet, twirl his hair around his finger. He feels very baby girl, as Karlach liked to put it. He types a quick ‘MY HERO’ before sliding his phone back in his pocket. That one text is all he needed to hold on for the last thirty minutes of work.

‘Alright!’ Wyll calls from the back. He looks up from his new shiny Apple watch. ‘Last customer is out, so you know what that means. Closing time. Let’s get this show on the road!’

Closing time is somehow the best part of Astarion’s day and the worst. The best, because he knows who will be waiting for him outside to pick him up as soon as everything is neat and tidied inside. The worst, because someone has to clean the bathrooms and he refuses to do it. There’s a bleakness, a despair to the Taco Bell bathrooms. It truly takes the world’s strongest to venture forth and clean them, and Astarion’s recently had a manicure. He scours the room critically before his sight lands on his second favorite co-worker ever!

‘Jenevelle,’ he purrs, turning to look at his younger co-worker. ‘It’s your turn to clean the bathrooms.’

‘It isn’t,’ she says snootily, pushing an Airpod into her ear to drown him out. ‘I did it yesterday. The men’s room is a crime against humanity.’

Astarion frowns. ‘I’m older. You do it. I refuse.’

'Just because you're like, seventy-something and still working at Taco Bell doesn't mean that's what the rest of us want to do,' Jenevelle says, blowing an obnoxiously large bubble with her gum. She slides off the counter and rolls her eyes. 'You're cringe.'

'Bold,' Astarion says, scandalized at only a young twenty-four years of age, 'considering that's coming from someone who put down the name Shadowheart on her application form and dresses like Olivia Rodrigo. Now, go clean the ladies' bathrooms before I feel inclined to point out you have nasolabial folds at eighteen.'

Shadowheart gasps in mock horror, putting a hand to her mouth. She rushes to get the cleaning supplies and does as she was told, but it doesn’t feel like a victory. Astarion is almost certain he’s going to wake up to a text from Gale laughing about how the story is being shared on a small indie podcast. It’s enough to send shivers down Astarion’s spine, but not enough to offer to swap places with Shadowheart. He goes back to petulantly sorting the hot sauce packets.

He pockets one mocking saying ‘I’m Your Main Squeeze!’ and shoves the containers back from where they came from. It’s easy closing, he tells himself. If closing were any easier, the morning shift wouldn’t complain so much. It’s what he has to tell himself as he wipes down the counter.

It’s hard to hold onto hope during these tough taco hours. Astarion just checked his phone, but if he were to check it again, he’s almost certain not even a minute would have passed. No matter how hard he scrubs the counter, everything smells like refried beans. His hair smells like refried beans. His shirt smells like refried beans. His skin must smell like refried beans. It’s a nightmare.

‘Dude, I cannot wait to get out of here,’ Wyll complains, coming to lean on the counter. He begins pretending to sort packets too. ‘Do you have any plans, Astarion?’

‘Ravengard,’ Astarion says patiently, ‘it is three in the morning. My plan is to sleep.’

‘Serious about that beauty sleep?’

‘Dead serious.’

Wyll hums. ‘The rest of us were going to go out for a drink. We wanted to know if you wanted to come with us. You know, to let off steam.’

Astarion considers it the same way one considers eating leftovers. He thinks about it then thinks about the sage old rule: There is nothing open after three in the morning besides jail cells and iHop. He decides against it. Doesn’t want to risk the price of bail after a night of drinking.

Besides, there’s someone coming to pick him up anyway. The thought of you crosses his mind and he can’t help but feel somewhat giddy about it. Between all the work from school and the stress of trying to make Burrito Supremes, you make going through the hardship of closing every single night worth it.

He’s supposed to be doing something, but Astarion can’t remember what it was that Wyll told him needed extra attention at the beginning of his shift or what closing a store entails anymore. He takes out his phone one more time and looks at his screen so he can memorize his screensaver which is a cute photo of you asleep in his shirt and drooling.

‘Ugh, you’re so happy it’s gross,’ Wyll says, wrinkling his nose.

‘Oh please,’ Astarion snorts. ‘As if you and Lae’zel aren’t sickening.’

If Astarion is being completely honest, almost all couples are. Somehow, the two of you don’t get to avoid that connotation. He remembers when you first started dating. You celebrated one week of dating, then two, then every month, then every other month just because it delighted you to do so. Astarion’s reputation is that he’s a prickly, unkind asshole which isn’t entirely too far from the truth, but the difference is that you are you, and you deserve all the nice things he can give.

But before anyone can complain about Astarion being sappy again, he slides his phone into his pocket and goes about his closing to-do list. He fusses over Karlach’s dishes. After working at a fast food restaurant, he’s pretty sure he’ll never eat at one again  —  but what the public doesn’t know what hurt them. They’re clean enough to anyone terribly concerned about it.

Isobel is hastily cleaning the floors. She and Aylin will never beat the grossest couple allegations, but Astarion thinks she’s the cutest thing in the world with her big eyes and fluffy eyelashes and perfectly smudged eyeliner. Once, he found Isobel and Shadowheart in the bathroom comparing shopping bags at Ulta instead of working the drive through. Astarion never told, but they owed him favors for two weeks in a row. Those were the best two weeks of his life.

Astarion does, however, fuss over the cleanliness of the lobby. The store itself feels permanently smudged in grease and smells about as nice as a locker room, but he refuses to be in the kind of establishment that refuses to clean the soda dispenser nozzles. He watches Wyll clean them then cleans them again himself.

And lastly, very lastly, Astarion gathers all the mops and brooms and rags and towels and puts them back from whence they came. Isobel finishes checking the filters to make sure they’re spotless about the same time Shadowheart comes miserably from the bathrooms with a look of utter despair on her features. He should probably feel bad, but he’s just thankful he didn’t have to do it himself. He wonders if he can somehow convince Wyll to do them tomorrow… but that’s a thought for another day, and Astarion only has one thing on his mind now that the store is closed.

You. 

Thank the gods, it’s you. You’re a blessing in disguise if you’ll ever admit it. You willingly wake up in the middle of the night to come pick up Astarion, and you’ve never complained about it despite it being well beyond your bedtime. It’s embarrassing to admit that it’s something the both of you look forward to. A little private time away from dorm roommates and their friends who all like to crowd into impossibly tiny rooms because they haven’t spent enough time with each other throughout the day somehow.

The thought of you puts a pep in Astarion’s step. He checks his phone one last time to read your latest text message and feels like his heart is about to soar out of his throat. He bounces from foot to foot impatiently while waiting at the door for Wyll to come see everyone out, but as soon as that door opens, he’s darting across the parking lot to your familiar car. He never gets in a hurry for anything, but it’s different tonight.

You watch the other couples scurry to their own vehicles for their own safety. Shadowheart rides with Karlach and they’ll hang out at Rolan and Lia’s until Viconia DeVir spam texts her enough that she comes home. Wyll races to Lae’zel’s slick sports car, and seeing them make it across the parking lot is all you really care about. You turn your devout attention back to Astarion.

One might be wondering what you’ve been up to tonight, but it’s an easy answer. You were studying for your many quizzes and tests which infuriate you to no end, because college is hard and Astarion can’t help you study. Not that he would be that helpful. Luckily, Gale and Halsin are astute professors who actually don’t mind helping students  —  and they both have a you shaped soft spot that makes it impeccably easy for you to convince them to tutor you. They helped you go over your coursework and somehow managed to play footsie with one another under the table at the same time, although Gale kept bumping into you by accident and Halsin kept laughing. Either way, you made it through two hours of intense studying in just enough time to pick up Astarion from work.

You almost wish he had helped you study instead, but… He’s smart, coy, a future lawmaker in the making, but Astarion is gorgeous. His talents are wasted on learning laws and balancing books. To say that you wouldn’t get anything done if Astarion helped you study is an understatement. One might think you innocent enough with a cute picture of you and Astarion as your lock screen, but opening up your phone shows one of your most recent endeavors. A risque photograph of Astarion’s cum on your stomach in black-and–white to make it less scandalous, of course.

He should be a model styled in the latest Gucci and coveted by all, but you’re also increasingly biased. You’re wearing a baggy band sweater and sweatpants when he comes around the corner of the restaurant, and he’s so incredibly cute in his stupid Taco Bell uniform that you can’t help but wiggle in your seat. You unlock the door as he comes bolting to the passenger side, and he climbs in and meets you halfway for a kiss.

‘You smell like tomatoes,’ you laugh.

‘Oh, I suppose I’ll walk home then,’ he snorts.

Astarion always comes home smelling of Crunchwrap Supremes and Baja Blasts. Underneath the smell of grated cheese and refried beans and offensive-to-the-nose lemon, he smells like his personalized cologne too. You sniff him unapologetically and try to not feel giddy as he giggle-snorts his way back into the passenger seat.

You watch as he flings his hat into your backseat and begins ruffling his hair back into the usual coiled, curly hairstyle he’s usually sporting. You watch, with a quiet smile, and fight the yawn that’s been plaguing you since you set out to study anatomy around midnight.

It would be downright cringe to admit you want to study his anatomy since he smells like Taco Bell, but the uniform looks so damn good on him. It’s dorky in a way that makes your heart race. When he stretches, his shirt untucks a little and a peek of his belly shines through. That makes what you’re feeling ten times worse.

Maybe it says more about you than it does Astarion, but he would be attractive even if he was wearing a paper bag. You’ve heard the way the other students gossip about him. They like his long legs or his lean neck, or his loud personality. He’s a self-proclaimed short king with a wicked smile and a dangerous sense of humor. That’s why, no matter what he’s wearing or what he’s been doing, the sight of him makes your heart seize into your throat. You want him. You want him bad enough that you glance around the parking lot to make sure everyone is gone.

‘Was work difficult tonight?’ you ask.

‘The customers,’ Astarion groans, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands. ‘Why do thirty seven high schoolers come into Taco Bell before close to order everything off the menu? It takes forever! And they’re so weird, shoving paper from their straws into their Baja Blasts and filling it with salt and pepper and hot sauce then daring their friends to drink it. Weird! Weirdos!’

‘What if I said I was hungry?’ you ask slyly.

‘Don’t even play,’ he growls. ‘I’m tired and  —  Oh my gods, you’ll never guess the drama from today.’

Astarion sets off on a long tangent about work related drama. His boss got into an argument with their boss and now everyone else is in trouble because someone who works the morning shift lost a set of keys. It’s nothing you’re particularly interested in, but it’s nice to hear Astarion talk to you. You adjust the radio to be quieter and turn the air up to be warmer. You’re so terrifyingly cozy you’re bound to fall asleep, but that’s okay. You lean back against your seat and close your eyes too.

‘That sounds like a mess.’

‘Aren’t you glad you don’t work?’

‘Beyond glad,’ you say.

Astarion hums. ‘How did studying go? Did you memorize anything interesting today?’

‘No,’ you say. ‘But, well, there was something I wanted your help with…’

You look across the console to watch him. He doesn’t seem as sleepy as you are. He offers you his hand and you take it just to hold it, fighting a shy smile as you do so. You give him a few more minutes to unwind after his shift before reaching for your keys in the ignition.

Astarion reaches for your hand. His fingertips slide across your upper arm to your fingers, wrapping around you to prevent you from starting the car. You swallow thickly. It’s almost like he read your  —

‘You look absolutely wrecked, my dear,’ Astarion says. ‘Switch sides with me. I’ll drive us home while you doze.’

It’s a tempting offer. Being driven home. It’s the sleep deprivation that’s driving you somewhat crazy, you think, because Astarion has never looked more handsome than he does now in the passenger seat, hair tousled and uniform lopsided, and a smile on his face. Your cheeks heat up.

Oh, it’s definitely the sleep deprivation. Part of you wants to simply wait until you’ve made it home to do anything wild. But Astarion keeps looking at you, appraising you with gentle curiosity. He is unbelievably proud of you and how hard you’re working, and that appreciation is doing wonders to the thoughts inside your head. Your palms start to sweat.

You do a quick look around the parking lot one more time. It’s entirely empty now, not a single car in sight. No Lae’zel or Karlach or Wyll or anyone who would interrupt. The lone overhead light keeps blinking on and off. If you were truly concerned about your situation, you would think that it’s something out of a horror movie. Those aren’t the thoughts going on in your head. What you’re really thinking is so gross it should be humiliating. Astarion’s hand is warm on your hand, and his belly is still showing underneath his shirt that’s ridden up, and he’s tilting his chin because he’s noticed you’ve gone unusually still.

‘I don’t want to go home,’ you say in a small voice. ‘And  —  I’m not hungry either, not really.’

‘Oh?’ he hums. ‘What do you want to do instead?’ 

Ah. There it is. Your chance.

You pull your hand from his and place it on his knee, thumb pressing against the side of his thigh. Astarion’s eyes glimmer dangerously. He’s caught onto your mood. He knows exactly what you want without you even saying it.

He reclines your seat and stretches even more in your chair, his legs splayed out in front of him lazily. He’s lithe and taut, hands gripping the headrest for no other reason than he knows it makes him look gorgeous. He raises his chin like a challenge. You slide your hand up his leg and squeeze his muscle. Your mouth has gone dry, but that’ll be changed soon. You nibble the inside of your lip and pray to the gods to give you bravery.

‘You’re insatiable,’ Astarion accuses.

‘It was the textbook,’ you say defensively. ‘I studied for so long, and now my mind has wandered.’

He tsks at you in disappointment. ‘The Taco Bell parking lot of all places.’

‘Shut up.’

He laughs, nice and low and dangerous, and presses his hand flush against his belly. He pulls his shirt up a little higher and you fight desperately to keep your eyes on his face.

‘Shut up?’ he mocks. ‘Is that the best you can do?’

‘I’ll show you,’ you say brazenly, ‘what I can do.’

It’s abysmal, the lust that overtakes you. You lean over the console and watch as he raises his shirt so that you can see the smooth plane of his abdomen. He’s lithe, sleek, refined. Even in his silly little uniform, you can’t help but think about how amazing Astarion looks  —  and he knows that’s what is racing through your mind, because he indulges in the attention that you’re granting him. You lean forward, one hand bracing yourself against the console while the other falls against his thigh for support, and kiss gently across his belly. From one side of his waist to the other, one hip bone to the other, until you fuss enough that Astarion helps slide his work pants down his hips to his thighs.

The ridiculousness of the setting is forgotten. You lavish Astarion’s cock with attention, the tip of your tongue tracing over the svelte shape, until he’s gently lacing his fingers in your hair to help guide you along. But you know his body almost as well as you know your own. You take the tip of Astarion’s cock into your mouth and kiss it. You graze your teeth carefully over the skin and feel his leg tense in anticipation, and slowly, you swallow it inch by inch.

His cock jerks in your mouth, growing and hardening beneath your careful ministrations. After being together for so long, you know what he likes. He likes slow and languid strokes. He likes when you hum and sometimes when you try to suck him as far down as you can, but you also know that he likes the occasional graze of your teeth, and you’ve barely touched him when he moans softly under his breath as if it’s humiliating to him how needy he is for you as well.

It isn’t the most comfortable position to be in. The gear shift is rigging uncomfortably into your ribs, and the sound of your leather seats sliding against your skin is an unwanted addition, but you’re mesmerized by the way Astarion tastes on your tongue.

Even after a long shift, he still smells immaculate. Your laundry soap overpowers almost everything else, and his satiny tip is salty with precum, but you’ve always enjoyed that taste more than anything else. You mouth gently against the length of him, kissing and sucking and tracing patterns against his cock with your tongue. The touch causes his hand to tighten in your hair, not enough that it hurts, but enough that you’re reminded of him.

It’s comforting, the feeling of his hand in your hair as he guides you up and down his length. It reminds you of less busy days when there’s no studying and no work shifts to be had. In the summer, you often spend your days stretched out across Astarion’s bed while he reads or writes, and you have more than enough sex to pass the times.

It’s far less organized here, but you take your time swallowing around his cock, sliding him as far down as you can into the back of your throat until Astarion is making little, wild noises. He’s trying to keep quiet, and you do your best to peek at him from the angle you’re at. He might as well be a work of art with how he looks. His eyebrows are taut, and he’s biting his bottom lip so ferociously you think you ought to be concerned. Astarion’s eyes soften when he notices you’re watching, and that’s more than what you need to sit up and slide your sweatshirt off over your head. It’s peak romanticism to fuck nasty in the empty Taco Bell parking lot.

You lean forward and take Astarion’s cock into your mouth again with intent. It’s not the most comfortable angle to suck him off at, but you’re determined to keep his eyes on you even if it means you’ll have the world's sorest neck in the morning. Because you’re watching, Astarion makes an effort to watch you as well. He fights against the fluttering of his eyelashes, determined to see you until the very end.

His skin is soft and hot against your tongue, and you focus on breathing through your nose and fight against your own budding arousal. You want to feast on him, to give him something to enjoy since it was your idea to do something like this in your car. You pay close attention to the soft tip of his cock as you suckle it, pressing little licks against the underside of his head, moaning softly even though your elbows are beginning to ache from the angle. You would bring him to completion like this if he would let you, but you can tell by the way his eyes seem to burn that he has other plans.

‘You’re insatiable,’ Astarion repeats, laughing low in the back of his throat.

He lifts you by the chin and kisses you, unfazed by the spit and the drool and the slightly salty taste that sits on the tip of your tongue. If Astarion wasn’t into it, he would let you know. But if you’re insatiable, then he’s equally as deranged. He guides you over the console and into his lap, pulling and tugging at your sweatpants and underwear until they’re around your ankles.

You do try to keep some sense of decency. You push your sweatshirt in a bundle against the front window like that’ll do anything to hide the scene, and he leans his seat as far back as he possibly can without straining too much. Now is not the time for romance, you decide. You’re used to begging Astarion to fuck you, to batting your eyelashes and playing up how shy you are about your wants and needs, but there’s no time for that now at three in the morning. You rut against him, holding his hands against your hips.

It goes without saying that the lewdness of the situation does cause your cheeks to flush. You hide your face into Astarion’s neck and try to pray away the shame. But you aren’t ashamed of your lust, you aren’t ashamed of your desire  —  Your only concern is the embarrassment of how close to Astarion you want to be, never mind the faint perfume of the Fiesta Veggie Burrito that clings to his skin. 

You worm your way into his lap fully, feeling how hard his cock is between your legs, and grind against the thickness of it. He guides your movement ever so carefully, murmuring sweet things into your hair that he wouldn’t be caught dead saying to anyone else. You’re amazing, don’t hide yourself from me, let us enjoy this together, and all other lyrics that Astarion is proud of. Finally, you reach between your thighs and take his cock into your hands, guiding it inside of you. You don’t have time to tease him, to take your time lowering yourself against his hips until he’s gripping your hips so hard you might bruise. You sink down onto him as quickly as you can, and gasp once you’re fully seated.

Gods, you’ll never get used to the feeling of him inside. He’s so thick and long that you feel impossibly full, that any movement you make will make you cum right then and there. Your hands always shake when you’ve taken him all the way to the hilt, and you bite your bottom lip to focus on the task at hand. This isn’t just about you and how easy it is to make your core burst with pleasure. This is about Astarion too. You want to thank him for all his hard work, to praise him even though he hates it, and you smile. Astarion smiles too. His eyes always get so soft when he looks at you… He’s never looked happier than he has when he looks at you.

Astarion’s hands rub soothingly up and down your spine. The touch is encouraging, is relaxing, and distracting. But no matter how hard he tries, he can't distract you from the way he looks up at you adoringly, almost as if he’s ever seen anything like it before. You relish in the heavy weight of his gaze, tilting your chin so that he can admire everything, and he does. Astarion watches you like someone would admire art at a gallery. He follows every line of your body that he can see, the curve of your neck, the fragility of your cheekbones, and runs his hands against your skin as though it’s the first time he’s ever felt it. It makes you feel special.

And of course, you are special. You were Astarion’s first after a string of countless conquests.

Astarion rubs his hands up against your sides, clasping his fingers taut around your waist so that he can guide you along the length of his cock. It’s all so simple. Astarion likes touching you in whatever way he can manage, especially after hours apart. You spend most of your time familiarizing yourself with the warmth of his hands as he traces his fingers against your spine, or pets through your hair, or massages any tense muscles that might be frustrating you.

He’s even more handsy during sex. You haven’t even moved yet, and he’s tugging at you, biting his lip as if that’ll keep him from trembling. Astarion has always been sensitive, but the recklessness of the situation seems to have riled him up. He paws at your hips. He’s desperate, intent, for some sort of sensation and you’re equally as needy, an overwhelming fullness causing you to shift your weight one more time so that you can balance on either side of his thighs without too much discomfort in a cramped space. You swallow, and slowly, pull yourself off his cock until you’re painfully empty again.

Astarion pushes his hands up beneath your undershirt. You stole it from his side of the bed before you came, somewhat desperate to be wrapped up in his scent. He presses his cheek against yours, and you kiss him  —  biting the swell of his lower lip and lapping at his tongue when he hums in response. He parts his lips for you and you kiss him messily, turned on by the way he arches at your intuitiveness.

It’s only then that you start really grinding against his lap, pushing his cock back against your core and rising off of it again, bouncing in his lap as he encourages you to do so. Astarion smiles against your teeth and digs his fingers into the curve of your ass. He pulls against his chest and further into his lap, filling you so full of his cock and encouraging you to rut against his hips so that the feel of it is the only thing you can think of.

Astarion is everywhere.

In your thoughts, in your mouth, in your body and mind.

‘Impatient,’ you whisper to him, trying to still your hips but even the thought of him sitting there while you take your pleasure is enough to send tingles down to your toes.

‘As if I’ll ever have enough of you,’ he murmurs in response. He tilts his chin back and offers you his throat. You bite the tender space beneath his jaw and suckle the skin, tasting a bruise blossom beneath your tongue. ‘O  —  Oh, that’s it.’

Astarion practically purrs as you leave your mark against his skin. You focus on that, claiming his neck right above the collar of his work shirt so that everyone will know the truth. Astarion Ancunín is yours.

‘Like that,’ he whispers soothingly.

Astarion shows his neediness like this, moaning faintly as you turn your attention to making another hickey. While you do that, he helps you grind and ride his cock, his fingers tucked neatly in the junction where your ass meets your thighs. He pulls you up and down his length without any strain, and it thrills you so much that your toes curl and you try to squeeze your thighs together. You whine against his throat.

‘You’re not the only one who doesn’t play fair,’ Astarion warns you.

He uses all of the strength you forget he has to bounce you in his lap. The pleasure is so intense it distracts you from your artwork, and you cry against his collarbone and cling to him. His cock causes you to feel empty and full  —  like you’ll never get enough of what he has to offer you.

And, well, any thoughts of playing fair after that have gone out the window along with your shame. The front seat of your car is cramped and tight, but you’re not really thinking about comfort as you chase that heat between your legs for something greater. Astarion does most of the work for you between the way he talks nasty and fucks even nastier, unable to keep his hands to himself for even a few seconds.

If his hands aren’t cradling your ass, then they’re beneath your thighs and if they aren’t there, it’s because he wants to torment you further by fucking into you hard by holding onto your hips as hard as his trembling hands will allow him.

Everything feels way too tight. The walls of your car seem to be caving in, and your clothes are suddenly clinging to you in a way that’s bothersome. You want to be closer to Astarion, to have fully melded your bodies together  —  and you curse the setting because if you had just been patient, you’d be halfway home to a comfortable bed.

‘You’re naughty,’ Astarion whispers, and it does something for you. ‘Did you miss me  —  Oh fuck, that’s good.’

You bite his neck to keep him from talking. If Astarion talks, you’re going to lose whatever decorum you have left. You wrap your arms around his neck and whine softly in his ear, nuzzling against his warm skin.

‘I missed you,’ you whisper against his neck.

‘I know you did,’ he murmurs, stroking your hip. ‘I can  —  Mm, I can tell how badly you missed me. Look at how well you’re riding my cock.’

‘Astarion  —  ’

‘I love the way you say my name,’ Astarion whispers fiercely. ‘I could listen to it all night and day. Say it again for me, pet. I’ll make you say my name.’

Heat causes your cheeks to flush. You’ll never get used to the casual way he says the raunchiest things, and yet, you can’t help but shiver against his chest at the observation. You wouldn’t have said that you were doing well at it. The roof is short, your legs are cramping, but somehow, that makes the feeling even better. There isn’t much room for you to go, and for that you’re grateful. It means Astarion can’t tease you endlessly with the length of his cock. Every move you make has to be short, frantic, calculated, and the tip of Astarion’s cock is pressed so deeply against your core that you can barely stand it.

‘Oh, it’s so much,’ you gasp.

‘Yeah?’ he muses. ‘You were made for me. You were made to take my cock. You’ll take it for me, you’ll cum for me.’

He uses his knowledge of all your favorite tricks against you. You cannot escape his grasp, one arm wound tight around your waist while the other now presses lightly against the nape of your neck. Astarion kisses the side of your mouth passionately and keeps you even closer than the limits of your surroundings. That riles you up even more.

‘I want to  —  I want to, Astarion, oh  —  ’

You drag your hips up carelessly, unburdened by shame or nervousness. You’ve known Astarion since your first day in the city, and you’ve been through enough and had each other enough to no longer feel embarrassed by your needs, not that Astarion had ever let you feel insecure about anything. You whine against his neck, and he kisses you fully then, a pouty mouth against your needy tongue, and then you maneuver yourself in his lap so perfectly that it catches Astarion off-guard and he moans fully against your chin.

You lose yourself in the feeling and the sound. Astarion’s moans sound even better in a tight, enclosed space. His voice is soft, low, dangerous when it needs to be, and he only becomes this unraveled with you.

It’s an intoxicating feeling. You cry softly, nose bumping against his, and fall apart at the sound of his arousal, the feeling of his fingers dancing across the back of your neck, the sharp ecstasy that burns like a wildfire in the center of your stomach. You want to chase your release now. To find it in his lap, against his throat, softly and hoarsely in his ear. But you aren’t ready, not yet, and it takes all of your nerves to pull away.

It’s humid inside the car now. You take a quick look at the sight. You reach for stability, your palm sliding against the fogged window, smearing a glance into the darkness outside. You rest your other hand against the center console and arched your back, height leveraged against Astarion so that he can see you fully. He’s quick to respond to your change in position, no longer kneeling forward, but high above him like you’re sitting on a throne.

Astarion’s hands slide beneath the shirt you have left, palms trailing smoothly up the arc of your belly, warming the skin of your chest. He sighs handsomely and stares at you, leaning back so that he might enjoy the sight of you fully. And now that you’re able to, you’re able to pull fully all the way off the length of him, leaving him without the feel of you clenched tight around his cock. You’re only able to wait a few seconds for your own sake before you’re wiggling all the way back down until you are right back to where the gods want you to be.

‘You look delicious,’ Astarion says proudly, wearing a familiar half-smile.

‘For you,’ you confess. And it’s true.

‘You always look so beautiful to me,’ Astarion says in a tone that reminds you of when a cat has had its fair share of milk. He’s preening, cocksure. ‘Go on,’ he adds. ‘Fuck yourself for me.’

You swallow hard and do as ordered with a different rhythm. No longer do you seek out slow assured strokes. These are quick movements, careless, unpracticed and unmeasured, and Astarion helps you with two thumbs pressed against your stomach. It’s his turn to lean as far back as he can to give you all the room you need, and while it isn’t perfect, it’s probably the second hottest thing the two of you have done together. Fucking in a car in an empty parking lot. Your fingers slip against the window and Astarion catches you by the elbow, sliding his hand up your forearm so that he can wrap his fingers around yours.

‘Like that, beautiful,’ he says encouragingly, helping you. ‘You’re close, aren’t you? Don’t you want to?’

You nod, unable to trust how your words would sound. One way or another, he always gets what he wants, and you know that with enough time and focus on your pleasure, Astarion will have you mewling.

‘Come on, baby,’ Astarion encourages you, and you can’t help but follow his every command. ‘I love the way you ride me  —  I was made to fill you up, you take my cock so well.’

His words only make you even more frenzied, riding him to the best of your abilities just so he’ll say something sweet about you again. He babbles nonsensical things about you, and if you were in a clearer headspace, you’d be able to make out his words but all you understand now is the nerves building up in the very bottom of your stomach as you chase satisfaction, so determined to see his face once it’s all over.

He coos at you, chin tilting all the way back so you’re able to stare at his pale throat. A gorgeous throat, sleek and elegant, wearing proof of your existence in little bruises and bites that are both new and almost healed. You want to bite him again, to let your teeth graze his Adam’s apple while he talks about politics that you barely understand, and with that, you reach for the back of his neck so that you can slam your mouths together in a clumsy kiss. Astarion hisses, and then he’s biting your lower lip until it swells, and you kiss him so sweetly your head spins.

And from there, you don’t last long. Your legs are shaking harder than they’ve ever shook before, and your chest feels so tight and your cheeks feel so hot that you’re almost incapable of thinking. All you see and know is Astarion. Astarion, lounging against your passenger seat, his own cheeks ruddy and his expression twisted in pleasure. You cry out and collapse forward, burrowing into his chest as tightly as you can. He wraps his arms around you, kisses your temple.

‘Astarion, Astarion, please!’

‘Just like that, my love  —  ’ he gasps against your crown, grunting as his release hits him hard. ‘Like that, my pet, you’re perfect, my dear, my dear heart  —  ’

Your core tightens at his sweet words, and then it’s your churn to choke out a hoarse cry as pleasure races through your spine so sharply that it must hurt. You bite down on his shoulder for comfort, moaning as you try to come to your senses.

It’s somehow both hot and cold inside your little car. Everything is sticky with sweat, and the moisture in the air has started to cause Astarion’s hair to frizz up. You’re boneless. It’s only fair that he takes it upon himself to pull you up from his cock, tucking you back into your baggy sweatpants. You hover awkwardly, his cum on your thighs, while he drags his work pants up his slender thighs. You aren’t sure who is groggier, but when you glance at the clock on the dashboard, mild horror thickens in your stomach. You feel faint.

It might have been nearly three in the morning when Astarion was released from his duties, but it’s now four in the morning, give or take a few minutes. You start to make your way over to the driver’s side again, about to inelegantly climb across the center console when Astarion grabs you by the waist and kisses the side of your head gently.

‘You stay put,’ he mumbles. He sounds positively fucked thorough.

‘I made you stay up late,’ you say guiltily, but he shrugs.

‘Honestly, you did all the hard work,’ he says with a snort. ‘Lay back and close your eyes, darling. I’ll drive. Thank the gods it's the weekend.’

He opens the passenger door, and the cool air of the morning smells so refreshing to the smell of sex that permeates everything else. He stretches for a minute before coming back. He kisses your forehead tenderly, nudging your nose with his.

‘Love you,’ you murmur.

‘Love you,’ he says.

It all happens so quickly. You’re faintly aware of the sound of Astarion snapping his seatbelt in, your car humming to life, an Alfira ballad playing so quietly in the background it might as well not even be on. You’re so warm and toasty that you can’t keep yourself from leaning your head against the window. If you fall asleep before the first redlight, Astarion doesn’t say anything. All you can recall once you get home is a strong pair of arms holding you tightly, and the pillow you stole from his side of the bed, and his back against your chest.

As it should be.

[penguinsravioli]

·˚ ༘Crush Confession anthony vaughn x reader

: ̗̀➛⁺ chapter 4 ⁺ first - previous - next

The party was a bit of a crash, but I guess that’s fine. Unfortunately for me I couldn’t find my ride. Ca$h was gone. 

And mysteriously, so was Dusty’s dads car. I sigh, him and this eshay bullshit. He’s told me that he feels like he’s “entitled” to continue to hangout with them. Even if Chook is an asshole, he’s basically one root income. Undoubtedly so though, a reckless and illegal root. I’m sat on the stairs of Dusty’s front porch, fiddling with my long skirt, swaying it back n’ forth. “I love this goth mother look you have going for you” I look toward Missy. I let out a chuckle, “Thanks Miss, hot, per usual.”

She twirls her hair jokingly, making the both of us giggle a bit. “How are you holding up?” Here it goes, the same question about how it’s been at home since the map. “Umm not the best, but it’s alright, I got my trap phone” I pull out the little burner device. “(name)! Look at you being rebellious!” 

“Sweetheart I’ve been pretty rebellious forever. Don’t know how you didn’t see the signs” I shower myself in self praise whilst Missy laughs with her hand over her mouth. “You got a ride home?”  “Yeah” I take back my phone, lying though my teeth so she doesn’t go out of her way for me. “Plus I need the air anyways” I stretch my back in the concrete stairwell. Missy begins to stand, “Alright then (nickname), call me if you need anything alright?” I nod. “Of course” I can tell by the look on her face that she doesn’t believe me. I know I won’t call her if I need anything. I barely call Ca$h when I need a ride to school. I always end up walking, despite the distance.

I play with my acrylics with a solemn look. Seriously though how am I gonna get home. My house is anything but close. 

“Hey Ladybug” I shout at Ant after he spooks me. “That wasn’t funny!” I whine a bit at his everlasting delight from my fear. “Calm down babes. Just me.” He puts his hands up, slowly lowering them when I roll my eyes at the nonsense. Ant has always looked at me with such a sincerity that I could never find in anyone else. It’s like if I were to disappear he’d notice. It always makes my heart drop but it’s like a familiar nice feeling that I cant describe well if you asked.

So the minute my irises centered to make eye contact with him, and I saw Ant Instantly searching. The feeling came back.

I turn away again, staring in front of me. “I haven’t heard you call me Ladybug since Kindergarten” 

“Thought it should make a comeback,” he slings an arm around my waist pulling me closer towards his body. “Plus it suits you” I chuckle. “How so?”

“Because you’re unique like a ladybug”

“You sure it’s not because you wanted us to be matching like how we used to?”  He smiles cheekily “No, but little me was a genius” I laugh at him and then check the time. It’s getting real late. I doubt my parents are home currently but I should definitely start to head back. “If you don’t mind me asking— can you walk me home” I sneakily shimmy from his grip and rise to my feet in a swift motion. Ants eyes follow me as I stand. “How could I say no?” 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“You’re getting really bold these days” I lock his hand with mine, enjoying the warmth he emits.

“I guess you give me a boost in ego” he replies quick whilst we walk. We’ve walked for 30 minutes and have finally made it to my home, and  don’t want him to go.

“Can you stay with me a little longer?” He looks towards me. 

Literally why the fuck did I just say that.

 “Yeah of course. Anything you wan’t” ever since cemetery we’ve gotten even closer despite me trying to build a barrier between us again.

Which sounds odd, but me and him distanced ourselves and our friendship entirely because of the hookup. It had been our first time actually ever doing anything like that. I think that we both felt an insane amount of guilt in shame. We had a talk in middle about how we were gonna make “our parents proud”, for him it was because he was heavily religious in his younger years.  While for me, because my parents had been so controlling and scared me into a corner.  It was until that party that me and Ant had finally really pushed past our promise of attempting to be good children.

The awkwardness afterwards had been mostly conveyed on my part, it was only me that had avoided my feelings for him after holiday. So it’s not surprising that they spilt out after the police crashed cemetery.

—He took out his wallet and pulled out some cash. In hand I had the soda I was craving, while he chose not to get a drink. “Cheers” I ushered to the cashier as we left.  I laid my head on Ants shoulder as I opened my carbonated drink. “Thank you for paying, I forgot my wallet at home” 

“No dramas. You deserve it” I gulp down my drink before answering. “Deserve it for doing what?”

“I dunno, just being yourself.”

“That’s way sweet of you Babes” I nudge him softly. He grins, “Of course, I’m ripper, remember?”—

We snuck in through my unlocked window, my room wasn’t really big but it wasn’t really small either. It was just a bit cluttered because I liked collecting posters, figures, random objects like signs, etc. “Your room has improved since the last time I saw it”

“Thanks Ant” I begin to pick up a few clothes I had threw around while getting ready for the party. “m’course”. I put the clothes in a pile and begin to fold them in a quick manner so I don’t have to deal with them much later 

“I neeeed to go thrifting again sometime, all the thrift stores around here have been so dry though” 

I spark up conversation.

 “You go thrifting? I’ve never tried it” I gasp, “seriously?! You know how many cool graphic tees I find on a regular? They would suit you so well too” I stand up putting the clothes in their respective places. I turn, coming face to face with Anthony.

In shock I scoot back, but he pulls me forward. “Why can’t just take the hint already?”

“What do you mean?”

“I know that you know that I like you (name)”He pulled me in by my waist and held me tight, giving me a sense of security. “I don’t know how come you’ve been avoiding me, but it’s been driving me crazy trying to figure you out” 

I suck in a breath. In attempt I try to find the words to reply but they’re stuck in my throat. So I’m just stuck, staring into his desperate eyes like I’m brainless. “Ant, you know I do care for you and—

I hear a car pull up into the driveway. Immediate silence was met from the both of us. I look at the window and back at Ant. “Anthony I will not repeat myself, get under my bed, when they leave the room I need you to sneak out as fast as humanly possible” I whisper yell as I start to undress and put on my night clothes. He starts to slide underneath quickly, holding his breath as I get into bed and pretend that I wasn’t at a party just an hour prior. I quickly turn my beside lamp off and get underneath my covers.

I hear the keys to the front door jiggle and I whisper to Ant “…you be as still as possible” 

“..got it”

I hear their footsteps down the hall slowly inching to my doorway. Then my door swings open. 

“(name)?” I pretend I’m knocked out. I’m a great pretender. They shut the door once they don’t get a response. And walk upstairs to their room.

 I let out a large sigh. I get off my bed quietly and crouch down to look at Ant. “I’d start to leave now” he starts to climb from underneath my bed with a nod of agreement. “Before I do though”

He pulls me in and gives me a quick peck on the lips and winks at me, jumping out my window and landing as silent as possible. Avoiding the cameras just like we did previously. 

When he’s no longer within area I close my window. 

Holding my beating heart in absolute shock. “I dunno why I’m so struck over this when he literally fucked me” I giggle to myself, sneaking to the bathroom so I can do my skincare before bed.