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alchemistc · 12 hours ago

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Part One

The loft is sadly undecorated. He'd tried, is the thing. Gone to the same novelty store they'd found on a random walk after a date, in late September, where Tommy had spent twenty minutes worrying a foam pumpkin in his hands while Buck tried to decide what sort of decor would fit his utilitarian loft.

They'd spent so long lingering over the sculpted white candles, Buck thrilled because Tommy's straight face broke every time Buck pointed out which ones looked like incredibly expensive dildos, that he'd felt bad enough to buy a whole set of them just to appease the girl at the counter who'd been watching them with a half annoyed, half wistful expression while Buck made a comment about dragons that had had Tommy biting his lip so hard he'd actually gone red in the face trying to hold the laughter in.

But every time he'd picked up a glass tree and thought how much fun it'd be to try to make Tommy go full Tik Tok Paramedic on him, every time he'd found something soft or plush enough that Tommy wouldn't have been able to resist running his fingers over it, plucking it up to toss it between his palms - well.

It wasn't like there'd be anyone in his loft long enough to really appreciate his decorations.

"Why'd you kiss me?" he asks, rounding on Tommy as Tommy takes a tentative step towards the kitchen.

"You were being annoying." At Buck's look, he elaborates. "Force of habit."

The finger comes up without any input from Buck, his voice tipping into that same flirty, bickering rapport he'd always pushed as far as he could. "I knew you did it to shut me up."

Tommy expression shutters. He recognizes Buck's tone. A few months ago that tone would start with a round of banter that usually ended with at least one of them with their pants around their ankles.

He looks spooked. He's staring at the island stool closest to the door like he's replaying the last conversation they had here, and Buck feels all his ire rear back up.

"You promised me clarity, Tommy." It's an accusation, and they both know it, because he looks ready to fucking bolt.

Slowly, he steps in. Half a yard closer to Buck, close enough to curl his hand over the island, and Buck is struck again by how goddamn unfair it is that Tommy looks this goddamn good in a suit.

"I did."

Buck's pretty sure he has some muffins he hasn't frozen yet that wouldn't actually damage Tommy, if he threw them at him.

"Can we...?" He gestures, vague as his half a question, and Buck wants to throttle him. Or kiss him again, which is -

"I need a beer. You?"

Tommy sighs. His grip on the corner of the island makes his knuckles go white. "Evan."

"No beer, got it." He swings the door open and doesn't wait for the reaction to either his snippy little rejoinder or the stacks and stacks of baked goods filling up the shelves of his fridge. He pops the cap with his back still turned, let's the fridge door fall closed. "Not like you drove here, but sure. One of us should be sober, I guess."

The switch back to Evan doesn't do anything for him at all.

Buck leans back against the counter and tries not to think about how he'd had this half formed idea of getting a real tree this year, finding some novelty kiosk that made those hokey ornaments for people to mark the years they'd been a family. He'd thought -

Tommy blinks guiltily when Buck catches him eyeing the way he fills out his slacks, a toe to groin drift of his gaze that makes Buck ache for when he could respond to that by dropping to his knees.

"That's a lot of bread," Tommy notes, eyes focused somewhere over Buck's shoulder.

"Why'd you break up with me, Tommy?"

Tommy freezes. Shifts from foot to foot. Sighs, and takes a few steps to the fridge, swings it open to grab a beer of his own. It's still the stuff Tommy likes. Buck's not picky, really, and it'd been habit to grab the six pack he always kept for Tommy.

The last five times he'd restocked.

Tommy takes half a step back to lean against the island, just off center from Buck, so they both have to twist their necks just a little to actually look at each other.

"You terrify me," Tommy murmurs, a few swigs in, when the silence is just starting to make Buck's skin itch. "Evan, I'm not -." He grimaces, frustrated. "I'm not some Super Gay who fights for justice and equality and the ability to make horrible television with Hummel doll sopranists."

"I don't know what that means."

Tommy's smile is wry. He'd had a running list of movies Buck's never seen on a note on his phone - every time Buck missed a reference, he'd added it to the list. They'd gotten through maybe twenty before -

"I led on a good woman for years because I convinced myself I could live my life ignoring a huge piece of myself. I hurled slurs with my buddies just to make sure no one noticed me. I fed into every toxic stereotype I could just to avoid anyone realizing I wasn't one of them. I'm not - I'm not some Gold Star Gay, paragon of the community. I didn't do shit. And even when I made the decision to let myself just be who I always was, I waited until no one in my life was close enough to me to question that I hadn't always been this way. I -." He winces. Shakes his head. "I run instead of fighting. I hide every time someone tries to see me. I'm not - this comfort you're so convinced I have I took at the cost of other people who were braver and stronger than I could ever be. Do you - is that an admirable quality, to you?"

Buck wishes they'd sat, like Tommy seemed to have been hinting at. He wishes he'd spent the ride over preparing himself for this, instead of stopping himself from crawling into Tommy's lap and getting a horrible rider rating for his trouble. He wishes -

"Do you think I don't already know all those things about you?"

It's - actually, it makes him a little furious, to think that Tommy spent six months thinking he'd successfully hid all those things from Buck. And - sure, he hadn't exactly been forthcoming about more than a few of those things, but like -

It wasn't like Buck didn't actively find ways to pry stories from Howie and Hen, even Bobby on occasion. It wasn't like Buck hadn't noticed the clipped way Tommy spoke of his past, his family, always tucking away more than he revealed. It wasn't like Buck wasn't well aware that Tommy Kinard had the capacity to be a total fucking asshole, if he wanted. Just because he'd kept it cool around Buck, made it just flirty enough for plausible deniability -

"You deserve better than that. Than me."

"Then be better than that, Tommy." It's not the best way to get his point across, but... "I've had multiple serious relationships, Tommy. I'm - I've been in love, before, and I've had my heart broken before, and I've had my trust broken before, and I've made people I love feel like shit. You weren't new and exciting, Tommy, we were - we were boring and domestic and it was the best six months of my life. It was what I -."

And this, of course, is where the words start to crest over, too many at once while his mouth tries to keep up and his throat is too tight to -

He swallows. Stares at his toes until his vision swims. Maybe those are tears, or maybe he's just stared long enough to go cross-eyed. His throat feels like he might be able to scrape a few words out

"I go too fast sometimes. I - I get scared I'm falling behind and so I clear a few hurdles too fast to catch back up and it -." Frustration rises through him as he remembers the way Tommy had levered himself up, spun away, broken things off without even a hint of the careful consideration Buck had grown so used to. "And you just - you tell me you want more than anything to be my last but you can't even give me the closure of a clean break! What the hell was that about?"

"Evan, I -."

"No! Okay, no. It's my turn to - it's my turn to be mad. It's my turn to - do you know how lonely I've been? How - how much I'm in my own head about where I went wrong, and what I could have done differently, and why you won't just fucking text me when you clearly want to? Do you know - do you know what it's like to think you've finally found something worth the humiliation of being known and then have it vanish in a single night? Over - you never talked to me about any of the shit you brought up that night, Tommy! You never - if you were so scared of not being enough to keep me interested, or so sure you weren't a good enough man, or so sure I couldn't possibly know what I wanted out of this, you could have saved us a hell of a lot of time and - and hurt by not being exactly the person I thought I could spend the rest of my life with! If that was all a - a smokescreen, some act, then why did you - are you actually so cruel that you convinced me we were falling in love while you had one foot out the door the whole time?"

Tommy's grip on the bottle looks painful.

"It's your turn to talk," Buck snipes, and he takes a little satisfaction in the way Tommy blanches. Just a little. Just enough to ignore how much he wants to rip Tommy's suit jacket at the straining shoulder seams and bite a bruise into that spot below his collarbone that even Tommy's undershirts hid well enough to keep the team at Harbor from putting him on blast for coming to work covered in hickeys.

"Six months with you was more devastating than two decades of hiding who I was, Evan," Tommy says, and it's a horrible opening that makes Buck feel like he's being drawn and quartered but he'd given Tommy the floor, so -

Tommy's eyes are a little too misty to call them anything but welling, and Buck hates it as much as it satisfies the pieces of himself he's spent weeks trying to pick up and glue back together.

"Evan, I lived with Abby for years and I don't think I saw her as much as I saw you. You -." He swipes a hand through his hair, and rustles one of his Superman curls loose to drape tauntingly over his forehead. Buck wants to bite him. He wants it to hurt. "You burrowed in and you just kept digging and I didn't take a second to question it until it was too late."

"Too late for what?"

"For me to take the cowards way out and leave before it hurt."

"Maybe I should have dug further," Buck snaps, and Tommy's gaze flits to his. Holds, for the first time all night. He's breathtaking in the best and worst way possible. He's spent weeks now trying to imagine anyone else ever making him feel the way prolonged eye contact with this man makes him feel.

"You did," Tommy admits, a confession that sounds like it's been gut punched right out of him. "You still -." Another grimace, Tommy pulling back, pulling away, hiding, running, and Buck can't -

"So what is this, Tommy? Is this - are you -?" He shakes his head to clear the cobwebs. Rears up, pushes off the counter, and Tommy's eyes widen like he's just now realized he doesn't have an easy exit. Buck just stands there, though. "If this is it, let this be it. If you don't want - if you're not willing to fight for this with me, tell me now. I know I'm - I know I'm a lot. I know I push for more when I'm scared. I know I'm overwhelming, and I sometimes can't stop talking to save my life, and I know I'm jealous and petty and - I know I'm not perfect."

Tommy sets his bottle on the counter beside him. Worries his lip between his teeth and rolls his jaw.

"You snore. You're a bitch sometimes and every once in a while it's not even charming. You hog all the covers and then you complain that it's too hot. You're vague about every single thing in your past that you think makes you seem like a bad person. You always think food needs more garlic and sometimes you're wrong. Sometimes when I spiral you just give me that stupid indulgent smile of yours and I know you stopped listening two reddit threads ago. When you're grumpy sometimes it takes everything in me not to pick a fight because you're such an asshole. You get cagey every time I pick at a thread you don't want to unravel and I - I hate it. I wanted a life with you and you couldn't stick around long enough to tell me why you were too afraid to go for it. So if - if you think I'm seeing you with rose colored glasses, or whatever. If you think I'm not - if you think being the first guy makes you too special for this to be real then just..." He sucks in a breath. Blows it out through his nose and feels the ache in his chest that's half remnants of his earlier panic attack and half fear that Tommy will actually turn and walk out at the end of this. "If you don't wanna fight for this I'll fill in the hole I dug as best I can and I'll leave you alone, okay?"

The look on Tommy's face is one he's never seen before. They've done this dance, or parts of it, at least. Tommy'd left him outside Micelli's, breathless and confused and aching, before he ever knew what it was like to hold his hand, to press his nose into the join of his neck and shoulder, to curl a hand in his hair or be filled by him - with attention, with affection, with the weight of his body and the stretch of his cock. Even then, this had felt different. Real, in a way the misty edges of his time with Abby, or the way Buck's puzzle pieces had never quite fit with Taylor's had never been. Even then, he'd just wanted so desperately to know and be known by Tommy that he'd taken his second chance and run with it.

"I don't snore," Tommy says, when the silence gets too heavy, and Buck - god, Buck has missed that tone, the snappy little tilt of his head, the blatant lie that passes over Tommy's lips so smoothly it's hard to tell sometimes that he's not being serious.

"I have audio proof," Buck says, and then doesn't immediately admit that he'd played it on a loop two nights into the breakup when he'd wrapped his entire body around the spare pillows on his bed and still hadn't been able to sleep alone in his bed.

"It bugs me that you spent days following scraps of information about a dead outlaw you convinced yourself cursed you, but you didn't even know what a Kinsey scale was."

This is - progress. This is... not Tommy bolting.

"I'm a two. If that's - is that, like, gay enough for you, or...?"

"You go too fast for me, Buckley," he says, and Buck knows that's a fucking reference to something he doesn't have context for just as well as he knows he's willing to spend the next decade waiting for the reference to pop up on Tommy's list. It's a terrifying, exhilarating thought and it's probably exactly what Tommy means.

"I can slow down," Buck says, and he tries to mean it. Nothing about how he feels about Tommy is slow.

"I don't want you to," Tommy admits, and then lets the silence stretch. They're two and a half feet away from each other and the distance feels like the farthest he's ever been from Tommy and the closest he may ever be again. "Living together, making a life together..." He swallows. "Marriage." That stops him short just long enough to recall how he'd blazed right past the I love you and straight into how he could keep Tommy. "You scare the shit out of me every goddamn minute of every goddamn day and I've never missed being terrified as much as I have since I walked out that door."

"I'm in love with you," Buck tells him, and Tommy blinks back tears. Takes a shaky breath and nods.

"That's what scares me. It's never - it's never been enough, before."

He'd sort of expected this to end with either the echo of his KitchenAid or a frantic rush up the stairs, but when Tommy meets him halfway all he does is sink his nose into the curls behind Buck's ear and breathe.

His arms drag Buck closer, his feet shuffle beneath them, his chin hooks over Buck's shoulder and he breathes, and breathes, and breathes.

---

"Your morning breath is rancid," Tommy tells him, palm centered on Buck's nose when he leans in for a kiss, pads of his fingers curled just slightly so that his hand is nearly encasing Buck's entire face. He wants to be annoyed but it's mind numbingly hot and Buck has missed it. Missed the snark, and the comfortable way Tommy will shoot him down when his head is in the clouds, and exactly how fucking large Tommy is.

"I'm so tired of avocado toast," Buck bats back, and Tommy is distracted enough by his need to make a face at that for Buck to swoop in and press a kiss to his cheek. He makes sure to make it a little wet just to watch Tommy's face crinkle in mock disgust.

He's in one of Buck's hoodies, is wearing the pair of his own sweats Buck had buried in the back of his closet in a fit of pique three days post breakup. He still looks properly debauched and Buck wants to drag him right back to bed.

Except -

"You don't have to go," Buck repeats, for the fifth time since he brought it up somewhere between peeling Tommy out of his suit pants and rolling out of bed to warm a hand towel under the sink so that Tommy could clean the cum off his abs. "But I need to shower and leave in like - twenty-seven minutes."

Tommy catches him by the waist and drags him in. "I won't be able to stay. You baked and I took as much holiday overtime as I could, but if you seriously want me there -."

"I seriously want you everywhere."

Tommy raises a brow.

"I mean that in a horny way and a codependent way."

Tommy snorts. "Good to know we're approaching this in a healthy manner."

"You told me not to slow down," Buck reminds him, and he gets a smack to his ass for his trouble.

"When Maddie pulls me aside, do you think she'll just slip me a poisoned glass of wine, or is she gonna get up on a step stool and make me stand there while she strangles me to death?"

"She won't do that." Buck leans in again, rolls a loose curl between two fingers. "She'll just stab you in the middle of the kitchen and warn my parents not to step in the blood."

"That's comforting."

Tommy takes a utilitarian shower in the downstairs bathroom and doesn't let Buck join him, and then rifles through Buck's closet until he finds all three of his button downs Buck had tucked away.

He has to borrow a pair of Buck's slacks and Buck absolutely does not mind that his ass is definitely gonna stretch them out.

With about seventy seconds to spare, Tommy presses Buck to his front door and kisses him just long enough to screw up Buck's meticulous timing - by the time he pulls back and gives Buck enough room to glance at the time on his stove, Buck knows they're gonna hit just enough red lights to make them late.

"I love you too, by the way," Tommy murmurs, and just this once, Buck decides not to be a brat about being five minutes late.

#bucktommy #bucktommy fic #tevan fic #tommy six months later: so when i told you not to slow down i was actually assuming you'd just move into my house in like two weeks #buck: at least we're arguing about communication instead of ghosting each other this time #tommy: are you gonna move in with me or what you fucking brat #buck: i'd like to talk about how many kids you want first

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authorhjk1 · 17 hours ago

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Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas

(Yeri X Male Reader)

"We can't do this here."

"Why not?"

"Because we're in public."

"So? I'm really needy right now. Please? You look so good in this..."

Your wife lets her hands travel down your upper body, while she appreciates your perfectly tailored suit.

"Your little event here ended 10 minutes ago. The girls might already be looking for you. This can wait, until we get home."

"Admit it. You love the way I look right now, don't you?"

"Yeri..."

She wraps her arms around you, pressing herself against you. Her head is at the same hight as your chest as she looks up at you.

"This tight dress... Showing off my shoulders... Hugging my ass... And it's so short, you wouldn't even have to take it off."

"When we're home."

Yeri shakes her head, her knowing smile never leaves her lips.

"I know you want me. You're just playing the good husband right now."

"Even if that's true, what are you gonna do about it?"

One of her hands moves to your crotch as you speak.

"Come on, you must be so turned on right now, watching your wife in this tight dress, right? I bet you'll get even harder when I tell you this:"

Yeri gets on her tiptoes and you instinctively wrap your hands around her waist.

"I have no panties on."

She knows you too well. You were already a lost cause when you first saw her in that dress earlier today. And now, she's doing her best to seduce you. The little resistance you have left is quickly crumbling.

"We have to be at your parent's by seven."

It's the last card you can play.

Yeri takes your hand off her waist and twists your arm. Your watch says 5:30.

"30 minutes are more than enough for you to fuck me."

She kisses your cheek, lingering bear your face a little too long.

"Hard."

You feel Yeri just barely rubbing herself against your crotch. No one around you notices, but it's affective.

Without a word, you grab her wrist and lead her towards the nearest store. You walk past row after row of clothes, looking for the dressing rooms. Just when you see them in the distance, Yeri unexpectedly pins you against the wall. You're surprised by her sudden aggression. Otherwise, she'd never be strong enough to handle you like that.

"I'm just so desperate right now. I can't wait a second longer."

Yeri presses her lips on yours, locking you into a heated kiss. You instinctively place your hands on her ass, enjoying the way it feels under the dress. Yeri's own hands are in your hair, trying to pull you down a little.

When the two of you break away for air, Yeri's eyes sparkle with amusement.

"Six years of sex every day and I'm still addicted to your cock."

She kisses you once more, giving you no time to reply. Then, she teasingly bites your lower lip, making you flinch.

"I want it."

She whispers against your lips.

"Right now."

Her hands run along your body as your wife gets on her knees in the middle of the store.

You're glad there's a wall behind you and you're otherwise surrounded by clothes racks. No one will be able to see Yeri as long as they don't come to close.

Your pants are quickly lying on the floor and Yeri pulls down your underwear as well.

"Why do you always have to wear suits? You look so hot in them."

She talks while taking your cock into her hand.

"Just be quick."

You groan, not wanting to get caught. She's still an idol after all.

Yeri wraps her lips around your tips and then works her way down your length. She struggled with it the first couple times, but after six years together, your wife knows how to give you head.

You lean against the wall behind you as she works your cock, taking most of it into her mouth, while stroking the base with her hand.

Looking around, you see two employees and five customers. None of them seem to be interested in you. Even when Yeri starts to get louder. Some women brag about not having a gag reflex, your wife is the opposite. Hearing her choke on your length makes you rock hard every single time, but it turns her on even more. She loves sucking you off, because you enjoy it so much. The way you groan, the way a hand reaches for the back of her head, the way you sometimes start to thrust into her mouth, the way you say her name... It all makes her happy.

You feel yourself slowly gliding down the wall as your legs become weaker. Yeri knows all the tricks in the book by now, which makes it hard to last long, when she's really going for it.

Her head is bobbing up and down on your cock, coating it with her saliva. Her gags make you look around, whenever her lips reach your base, afraid that someone will hear.

"You're amazing, Yeri."

You sigh as your wife sucks you off in the middle of the store.

Only two minutes later, the two of you reach the dressing rooms. Now it's your turn to pin her against the wall. Letting your pants fall to the floor again, you reach under her dress.

"You feel how wet I am for you, baby? I need it so bad."

Yeri voices her need as your arm pushes up the hem of her dress on accident as you let your fingers wander through her folds, occasionally dipping a finger inside.

Without even having to take the dress off, you wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her lower body a little closer, before pushing your cock into her. Yeri moans out, amazed at how good it feels every single time. You quickly start thrusting into her, not intending to go slow at all.

Yeri soon becomes louder, almost screaming your name. You have to put your hand over her mouth, so the two of you don't get kicked out. As you keep fucking her from behind, you feel how her warm pussy clenches down around your cock. She squeezes you hard, her walls trying to make you cum as quick as possible.

"Your cock is filling me up so good."

You can still hear her, even through your hand.

"Keep nailing me against the wall. Just like that."

You bury your face in Yeri's neck, licking and sucking on her skin. It's her last schedule for the year and your marriage has been confirmed by her company for three years now. You don't care if you bruise her skin or not. Actually, you'd prefer it if you leave a mark.

"Fuck me harder. Punish me for being such a slut for your cock."

You do as she asks, wrapping your arms tightly around her slim frame. Looking down on her, you take in the gorgeous view of her cleavage. Taking her body like you own it, you keep plowing her from behind, probably making the employees outside aware of the two of you.

Your hands soon wander to her tits, quickly pulling the dress and the bra down a little. Having her tits played with makes Yeri's pussy squeeze around you even harder. Her juices are coating your cock by now as you bottom out inside of her with every thrust.

"Do it."

Her moan desperate.

"Choke me."

This is very aggressive, even for Yeri most of the time. But you don't mind at all. One hand wraps around her throat, giving her a light squeeze.

"Yes, ruin me. Ruin your little slut."

You growl into her ear in response, tightening your grip on her throat and on her tits.

Soon, you hear her trying to speak again, but the words come out weak.

"I-I'm gonna-gonna cum."

Your hand moves from her throat to her mouth within a heart beat, but you're still almost too late.

Yeri shakes, her body quivering, her legs almost giving out. She screams your name into your hand as her pussy contracts around you. But you don't stop fucking her. You keep pounding her through there orgasm, until Yeri starts talking again.

"Fill me up, baby. Cum in me. Please."

She can tell you're close as well.

You press your wife against the changing room's wall as you dump your cum as deep inside of her as possible. Another tiny orgasm rushes through Yeri as her body welcomes your familiar load.

"Wow."

She says as you lie your head on her shoulder.

"We should go out more often."

You catch her smiling into the wall and you kiss her slightly read cheeks, while the two of you catch your breaths.

Leaning over the bed, you carefully close the book you were reading from.

"Good night, princess."

You whisper, before kissing your sleeping daughter's forehead. You carefully leave the room, turning off the lights in the process. The three year old girl was so happy to be sleeping at her grandparent's place, that it was hard for you to get her to sleep.

Now you're entering the living room, after passing Yeri's parent's bedroom. You see her sitting on the sofa in one of your pullovers, hugging a cup of hot chocolate.

You sit down next to her and lie an arm around her. For a moment, it looks like she's lost in her own thoughts. But when she feels you next to her, Yeri smiles at you.

"Thank you for putting her to sleep. I have to show you something."

Her eyes sparkle with happiness as she reaches next to herself on the sofa.

"I took this while you were reading her the bedtime story."

Yeri is holding up a pregnancy test.

"I'm pregnant again."

You capture your wife's lips with yours, a million butterflies exploding in your stomach.

"I love you so much."

You whisper into her mouth, not able to break away from the kiss. Yeri puts down the cup and the test without looking and slings her arms around you. You lean in further, eventually making the two of you fall on the sofa with you on top.

Yeri instinctively reaches down, tugging at your pants. The fact that she is carrying another one of your children makes her long for your warmth even more.

A couple of moments later, you still lie on top of her, thrusting inti your wife with shallow and soft strokes. This isn't the crazy sex scene the two of you had a couple of hours ago. That was pure lust. This is love. The love you have for your wife. The love your wife has for you.

"Merry Christmas, I guess."

You whisper into her ear as you make her gasp in pleasure.

"Marry Christmas, baby."

-----------

Merry Christmas, everyone!

By now, this will probably come out a little late, but I hope you guys can still enjoy it. Just a short Christmas present from me to you, guys.

Stay healthy!

#ask #anon #kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #male reader #yeri red velvet #red velvet yeri #red velvet smut #kim yerim #yeri smut #yeri #red velvet

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hwaightme · 3 days ago

Text

In your eyes

THIS IS 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI FOR CAPTAIN’S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut)

(masterlist)

📚 pairing: postgrad!bf!hongjoong x afab!gn!reader 📚 genre: smut, established relationship, so much fluff 📚 summary: time is nobody's friend, and hongjoong often finds himself wondering how much he has lost. thankfully, you always remind him of how beautiful the present and future can be, how full of love, how intimate, how true. 📚 wordcount: 4.0k 📚 warnings/tags: MINORS DNI, semi-edited (do let me know if i missed something), they are so in love, teaching assistant joong, so many pet names (love, darling, etc), he is down bad, mention of time anxiety, mild relationship worries, mention of winter holiday season, y/n is an office worker (nothing specific), mention of exams (joong grading), sort of from joong's perspective 📚 taglist: below 📚 a/n: something about academic joong makes me feel many types of ways... anyhow- hope this is enjoyable and gives warm feels <33; live laugh love joong; any notes, reblogs, comments are highly appreciated! thank you

📚nsfw tags: sub-leaning switch joong, service top energy joong, lovemaking, handjob, fingering, dry humping, praise, begging, piv w condom, missionary, mating press, overstimulation, light cuddling, implied aftercare but not described

Tired eyes. Paper after paper decorated with green ink, subsequently joining the pile that was starting to take over the dining table. The persistent glow of the laptop screen, reflected in a pair of tortoiseshell-frame glasses that kept threatening to slide down an elegant nose. While grading papers was not exactly something that Hongjoong would dream of doing during the winter holidays, it came with his job, and so was not entirely abysmal. Perhaps the only issue was that he had grossly underestimated how much time and focus this task would take. Morning rapidly turned into day, and day equally as quickly trickled into evening, leaving him without as much as a moment to spare for the things people usually occupied themselves with at this time of year. Though, perhaps it was important to note that it was not the actual festivities that he longed for and felt apologetic that he could not partake in thanks to his own decisions, but rather a certain someone.

After finishing grading yet another paper, Hongjoong set his pen aside and roughly rubbed his eyes, careful to not send his glasses flying. Only now did he notice just how dark the room had gotten, barely a sliver of light crawling in through the windows, with no thanks to the gloomy weather outside. He rose from his chair, rolling his shoulders from having been in the same position for an uncomfortable number of hours, and ambled to one of the many floor lamps that were neatly stationed around the living room, each with its own story. He picked a particularly whimsical one right in the corner, squinting when it burst to life, revealing its curious design of frosted flowers, branches, and songbirds. Reluctant feet carried him back to the chair, now turned into an instrument for torturous isolation.

“Enough, you know what, enough…” Hongjoong’s whisper cut through the eerie silence of the apartment. Pushing the rest of the papers away, he leaned back with a huff and slid his phone out of the back pocket of his trousers.

The journey to his home screen was swift, only to end in a deliberate pause as he studied it with a sorrowful smile. He was unsure as to why a pang of melancholy had taken a sudden hold on him, but seeing your happy face as you were looking at a bungeoppang neatly tucked into a tiny white bag - a precious moment from a casual date you had gone on - had him irrationally spiraling. You lived together, and yet, he missed you. He longed to hold you in his arms for longer than a few seconds before pulling away. He dreamed of staying in the same room for what could be ages, sharing the quiet atmosphere, or maybe listening to your favorite songs together. The dark winter nights were taking a toll on him, and in utter solitude, the natural tendency to ruminate reigned supreme and let his worries wander freely from his mind and straight to his fragile heart.

When Hongjoong and yourself had discussed winter vacation, the conclusion was reached without much back and forth. You were not taking any days off, and Hongjoong made the most of his time off, well, doing more work. In retrospect, it might have been a silly idea on his part, but much like how you had explained it back to him, if it meant solidifying his position by being on the good side of his supervisor and being responsible for more things as a teaching assistant, it was worth it. But now, seeing couples roaming the streets around the city whenever he commuted into university, and generally the mere notion of having only the evenings and odd parts of the weekend to spend with you started to make him sick to the stomach. Without realizing it, he had driven himself into a corner, and he wanted out.

Before he could get any further than the usual perusal of social media, he heard the muted rattling of keys, and in a matter of seconds, the front door opened, revealing a familiar form. His eyes immediately settled on you, noting how you shrugged off your messenger bag and coat, leaving them on the ottoman in the corridor rather than hanging them up—clearly, he was not the only one tired. Nonetheless, when you raised your head after having freed yourself from the confines of your dress shoes, a smile spread across your face.

“Hi Joongie,” and just like that, his heart picked up its previously lethargic pace.

“Welcome home my love,” the endearment slipped off his tongue, earning him an amused chuckle.

“Mhm, missed me?”

“Maybe a little,” he played coy, knowing full well that you could read him like an open book no matter what front he put up. He returned your gleam, keeping his undivided attention on you as you sauntered off in the opposite direction.

“I just need to change and I’ll be right back, alright?”

“Of course.”

Suddenly, the laptop and exams on the table irritated him. Hongjoong rose and tidied the papers into neater piles, shut his laptop, and arranged them all on the other side, as far away from him as possible; in his mind, should you two decide to have dinner in this room instead of the kitchen, you could sit closer to him. A win in any book. He pushed the sleeves of his shirt further up and carded his fingers through his hair, undoing a couple of unruly knots. What was he readying himself for? Maybe the answer was something beyond him, but he could not deny the warmth in his chest that grew and grew when he spotted you across the corridor once again, only now in a pair of pajama bottoms and one of the band t-shirts that he owned and you constantly borrowed.

Caught in a miniature mental disarray, he remained where he was, only slightly moving to allow for your arms to snake around his torso, and his hands to settle on your waist. Your embrace was grounding, boundless in affection, and Hongjoong gave up to the floaty sensation as he leaned in and buried his face in the crook of your neck. Surrounded by the remnants of the light, daytime perfume that you used, he found himself in paradise. He sensed a hand trail up his spine and start to toy with the longer hairs at the back of his head. This was a habit that you had only recently picked up, seeing as, for once, he was letting his hair grow longer, and he would be lying if this was not motivation for him to keep the mission going indefinitely. A warning hum erupted from somewhere deep in his chest when you lightly tugged. In a feeble attempt to mask his response to your playful caresses, he murmured:

“How was work?”

“The usual, though it was quieter now that most people are off,” Hongjoong lifted his head and was immediately dazed by the adoration pooling in your eyes. You looked at him as if he hung the stars in the sky. Inadvertently, he pulled you closer, and yet still wasn’t quite satisfied.

“How’s everything for you?”

“Been focusing on the exams today, got through most of them actually.”

“Oh look at you, my scholar,” you whispered in response, tapping Hongjoong’s nose with your own. Meekly, he smiled and attempted to look away, only to be guided right back with your steady hand that had now let go of his hair, instead resting on his jaw.

“I should be the one praising you… who closed that insane project that was initially expected to be postponed into the new year, hm?”

“That I did, indeed, but doesn’t take away from how proud I am of you,” your words were honey, trickling into his ears and coating his very soul like a soothing balm.

“And I am proud of you.”

“We did well, didn’t we, Joongie?” The nickname had him wavering, tip-toeing on the edge of rationality.

“Mhm,” his next words came on their own accord, raw, vulnerable, barely audible, “I really missed you, darling.”

“But I am here, aren’t I?”

“I’m sorry, I might be getting greedy,” his hands ghosted over your hips until one hand pushed you into him by the small of your back. You let out a gasp, but quickly regained your composure, clearly not taken aback.

“Not that I mind it… Ah, is my poor Joong lonely?” after a few seconds of silence, you continued, “you are so precious, you know that?” He loved that expression you got when you basked in the glow of knowing. Knowing just how far gone Hongjoong was for you. It was embarrassing at times to reveal and admit how pathetic he could become just to see that little smirk, even just to himself, but he did not dwell on it for the reward was far too great, “tell me what you mean, baby.”

“I-... I know we agreed to keep things busy this winter but I can’t help but want… yeah, I miss you.”

“Can’t help but want me, you mean?” you detangled his intricate web in no time. Hongjoong walked in circles, while you cut straight to the chase. Maybe this was why he did not care for much at all except for your understanding and your reciprocation. He nodded, finding solace in hiding his face in your neck once more.

“Well, baby, what’s got you so pensive? Hm? Tell me?” your voice shifted from allure to sweet concern as you checked in. Hongjoong was all the more exposed, every move less calculated than the one prior, and your infinite devotion towards him, his thoughts, his everything was making him too dizzy to stand up straight.

“I just… hm, I don’t know-”

“You do, maybe are just too shy to tell me?”

“I want to spend more time with you, just us, you know? Little dates, we don’t have to do much… but I want us to be present, ah what am I even saying-”

“You were saying something that I would love to do, Hongjoong,” you were quieter than before, more tender, “we have definitely been a little relaxed after moving in together, haven't we?”

“Mm, I wouldn’t say that-”

“I would. And that won’t do. So, how about we start now, then?”

All too delectable were the images that flashed in Hongjoong’s mind, and he felt bashful and helpless under your steady scrutiny. With your pointer finger resting under his chin, he could not do anything except stare back, a task proving to be increasingly challenging as heat rose on his cheeks. His head moved on its own accord, response shallow, almost a tremble rather than agreement.

“Words, Joongie, good boys use words.”

Oh how he craved you. His stomach coiled at your dangerous reminder. Instead of any coherent phrase, vulnerable, shallow breaths danced between you and him. Nobody was his audience except you, nobody knew him like you did, and yet the sheer weight of his infatuation with you was preventing him from saying a single thing, despite any fears being irrational. As soon as he were to say what was yelling at him in his mind, you would be satisfied, and allow him to drown in everything that you were.

“Yes…” he choked out, relieved upon detecting the beginnings of a feline grin.

“Yes what? Do elaborate.”

“Yes I- want this. I want us, I want you.”

“How?”

“I want you to do whatever you want to me,” heart hammering in his chest, he stammered.

“In that kind of mood, are you?”

“Oh please-” he wanted to disappear, shrinking back to free himself from your hand to no avail. Your chest again his, lips a mere tilt of the head away, and his senses were flooded.

“I’d love to, Joongie, I’d love to take care of you.”

Soft lips moulded perfectly with his, like freshly fallen snow. Hongjoong’s senses went into overdrive as the kiss built up into a sultry, addictive rhythm. Teeth grazed his lower lip ever so gently, and before he could react,you deepened the kiss by resting your arms on his shoulders. Immediately his hands responded by finding purchase on your lower back. He was grateful that your mouth muffled the whine bubbling in his throat as you purposefully shifted your body into his. But somehow, it was still not enough.

“Mh- sorry-” Parting for air was simply an excuse for Hongjoong to fish for his glasses with a trembling hand and set them down on the nearest surface. Apparently, it was not a distraction to you in the slightest.

Your onslaught continued past his plush, reddened lips and across his jaw, ending on a particularly sensitive spot on his neck. He jolted, but when you chased him to nip at the same place again he took no time in giving you better access. You moved again, leaving quick pecks on his lips and pressing your forehead against his. In the breathless euphoria any chances to overthink had disappeared, and he allowed himself to let go, to be completely yours. He was willingly leaving himself to be at your mercy, knowing that he was going to be safe, going to be adored. In a flurry of emotion, he bared his soul.

“I love you,” he did not notice the shakiness in his own hands until you raced to clasp them with your own.

“I love you too, Joongie.”

It took one step for him to start following you to the bedroom. You appeared as the very notion of calm, guiding Hongjoong. You let go of one of his hands to switch on a bedside lamp, making haste to return your attention to him. He melted under your touch, half-lidded eyes following how your swift fingers undid the buttons of his shirt. You treated him like he was priceless porcelain, a touch here, another there, skillfully ghosting over the places you know, from experience, would send him reeling and falling to your feet. But it was obvious that this was not the night for such a progression. Tonight was about connecting beyond the physical, about exploring intimacy as more than just some flimsy term.

As soon as you gave the sign, Hongjoong shrugged off his top, shivering momentarily until your hands were back, roaming his chest and waist freely. Enthralled, he mumbled your name. His eyes roamed ceaselessly as you got undressed, standing proudly before him, almost fully bare, beautiful. While you had told him you changed, evidently that included a conscious decision to dress up in the most enticing lingerie - he thought it was impossible to keep falling in love like this, but he kept on proving himself wrong whenever you were with him. Even though he had seen you like this many times over, every time left him wondering how he could possibly have found someone so lovely. Words escaped him.

“Leaving me alone like this?” you asked, a smirk etching itself into your features. You did not need to ask Hongjoong twice for him to clumsily begin undoing his trousers and settle on the edge of the bed, face flushed.

“So precious, so good to me,” you cooed, carding your fingers through his wavy locks.

When you straddled his lap and inched dangerously close to his boxers, Hongjoong swore his head was spinning. Prompted by another gentle tug at his hair, he kissed the soft skin of your breasts, one hand making quick work out of undoing your bra while the other played with the lacy fabric.

He followed your sighs, your sharp inhales and exhales, the sounds you bit back and he would tirelessly do anything to hear. His teeth grazed you ever so lightly as he travelled from one breast to another, a trail of kisses remaining anywhere he went. You grinded your hips into his with more purpose, feeling that delicious heat starting to rise in your core. Hongjoong responded with a flick of his tongue on your nipple, humming when he could finally rid you of pesky material, leaving him with every chance to show his love for you. Fingers stimulated the one he had shifted away from, while his other hand returned to its rightful place on your lower back.

It was as though a fire had enveloped him. There was not enough space, not enough air, and yet his only wish was to be so close to you that he could simply disappear. He was painfully aware of his hardening length, the continuous friction leaving him with half a mind to start begging. For what? Perhaps, for anything. Anything that you would give. You pulled yourself even closer, now sat directly on top of the growing wetness on his boxers, putting all the more effort into your hips. Airy mewls spilled from his lips, and he lunged to hold you, hands on your ass encouraging you to continue to untangle him at this agonising pace.

It was a game of lips, tongue and teeth. You returned to kissing him, foregoing whatever stability you tried to contain to completely sink into his form. Taken as he was by you, Hongjoong tried his best to keep up, lewd, slick noise that echoed in his ears only spurring him on.

Your limbs were cotton, thoughts preoccupied by a carnal want. Palming his erection, you smiled against Hongjoong’s lips when he moaned.

“How’s that baby, hm?”

“Don’t stop-”

“Want more? Is that right?” feverish nods, resulting in you pulling at the elastic of his boxers, “Off,” you sat up a little to help him, balancing with your knees on the bed as he shimmied the fabric off just enough for you to push it further down to his ankles, “so pretty.”

You covered your palm in his dripping pre-cum and smoothed it down his length in a couple of skilled pumps, amused by Hongjoong’s adamance to be obedient, pursing his lips to remind himself that he shouldn’t buck into you. His gaze was fixated on your caresses, just enough to drive him mad, but not enough to take him over the edge, only ever wavering to glance at your still-clothed pussy. Judging by your momentary spell of quiet, you were trying to focus on him at the expense of your own desires.

With another groan, Hongjoong slipped your panties to the side, calloused fingers immediately being coated in slick. Rhythmic circles over your clit turned to music to his ears as you mewled, leaning forward to find his shoulder, biting it ever so slightly. With every breathy moan his body kept on screaming for you, your warmth unbearably inviting. When he dipped two fingers into your core your movements faltered and you squeezed around his base in warning. He could lose himself then and there, sheer power of will leaving him one thread to hang by.

“Baby, can I please-”

“Say it, Joong,”

“Can we take it to the end? Please, please I-”

“If we don’t I’d be upset. I, want, you, so, bad-” you punctuated your response with pecks across his face, an ecstatic grin meeting his own.

You and him were a mess of limbs and pleasure falling onto the bed, him helping you over and pulling the panties completely off, humming at the sight. He was eager to please, ensuring you were comfortable with how you were lying down. Adjusting the pillows, placing one under your hips to avoid any strain, checking that you would not hit the headboard, stretching towards the drawer to take out a condom, speedily tearing the packaging and rolling it on. You watched him, enamoured. Beauty, inside and out, ethereal in the honey-coloured light.

He positioned himself at your entrance, gliding his tip a couple of times over your sensitive clit before pushing in. You sighed, head falling back at the relieving fullness. Your walls clenched around him as he bottomed out, making him let out a low growl. He shifted his weight forwards until his arms were on either side of you and he could indulge in your every expression.

It was a delightful stretch. Your every sense was filled by him, and only him. Then, he began to move. He started agonisingly slow, pulling out almost his entire length only to drive it back in, punctuated by the sound of skin against skin. He dragged his hips almost lazily, but you knew better than to assume that this was going to continue for much longer, given his shallow breathing.

Hiis thrusts became more accentuated, faster within a few minutes, and you searched for anything that you could hold, all too quickly losing yourself. In a feeble attempt to reach for him you lifted your arms upwards. More often than not you did not need to explain to Hongjoong what it was you wanted - he read you and understood, just like now. With a strained chuckle he edged forwards until he was close enough for you to wrap your arms around his neck. The feeling of your digits back in his hair had him biting his lower lip, barely containing his building high.

A particularly deep thrust made you tug at strands, and he moaned, rolling his hips with newfound vigour. Every time you clenched around him he became more frantic. The glide against your walls was perfection, the familiar coil tightening at a frightening speed towards a crashing release. Your arms collapsed when Hongjoong cursed under his breath, tapping your thighs to angle them upwards. You shifted upwards, legs barely wrapped around him as the new position gave him even more depth and freedom to pound into you.

The wetness embracing him was downright vulgar, noise enhancing the redness of his cheeks. You tensed around him, previously quiet pants transforming into a mantra of his name. He gripped your thighs in a last attempt to remain grounded, but as waves of your climax took over you and you pulsed around his cock, limbs trembling, all he could do was give in. Give into you, give into white hot euphoria. You were soaking him, he was rapidly getting overstimulated but he could not careless, remaining exactly where he was even though his muscles were screaming.

He was completely spent. Nothing but adoration towards you remained. He winced as he pulled out and hastily took off the condom, far too sensitive to function. Falling to your side, he watched the rise and fall of your chest, entranced by how even the smallest details that you possessed had their own brilliance. After a few moments you shifted, pushing the pillow from underneath you and turning to the side, facing Hongjoong. Your sleepy, but totally mesmerised gaze made his heart hurt. You. It was you who he loved, you who he lived with, you with whom he could make love like this.

“Hi,” you whispered with a giggle.

“Hi,” he brushed your cheek and kissed you again. You lifted your arm, suggesting that he were to move closer to you. Much to his dismay, a surge of stimulation pulsed through him, making him gasp. Thankfully, you took it with good humour, eyes travelling down his body, seductive even in the afterglow.

“I am not sure I should move just yet,” he suggested with a chuckle, astonished with himself.

“Hm… then let me get us all cleaned up and I-”

“-you are not moving either,” powering through, Hongjoong stretched his arm until it was lying across your torso. There was no force behind the action itself, except maybe in his pouting lips that you could not help but want to kiss again and again. You chuckled and feigned annoyed acceptance.

“Fine, I guess we can stay.”

“Love you.”

“Love you more,” you countered.

“Impossible.”

You shifted closer until all you could see was Hongjoong’s face, and all he could see was yours. And yet, somehow, in each other’s eyes, you could see the world. Those plans you mentioned, those worries, those wishes, those desires all collected in miniature universes of the soul, reflections and projections of a life lived and to be lived together. Dreamy eyes.

📚perma-taglist: @charreddonuts @preciouswoozi @http-gyu @my-loves-my-life @yeonjunnie @wooyoungjpg @wowie-hockey @ren-junwrld @hongjoongs-patience @miriamxsworld @innsomniacshinestar @jaehunnyy @maddkitt @marsstarxhwa @asjkdk @northerngalxy

enjoyed? i would love to hear from you, it means the universe to me. thank you.

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literaryvein-reblogs · 3 days ago

Text

Food in Fiction Writing

Often, we structure our days around food; a family meal, the office lunch break, dinner out with friends or maybe late-night instant ramen to get you through a deadline. But how do you include these moments in fiction writing? And what can you make this say about your characters?

Food as Habit

Giving your character eating habits and tastes can really flesh them out.

Try to think about where they eat, who with, and what?

Habits make our characters come alive, giving them the sort of real interior life that readers can identify with.

Make use of their tastes in moments of emotion – after a climactic moment, do they come home and relax by cooking, or try and escape to a fancy restaurant among friends – or do they not have the energy to eat at all?

Food is a great way to show character rather than telling.

Food as Subtext

Another great way food can show instead of telling is to use it in a conversation, when people are saying one thing but meaning another.

Often, when people argue, it starts off as a small problem – like burning the dinner, or what restaurant to choose.

Use food as a starting point in conversations when people are letting out their emotions through another meaning.

Let your characters debate their marriage through a restaurant without enough vegetarian options, or show someone’s romantic interest through appreciation of a badly cooked meal.

Food as Structure

You can show a lot about the order of a character’s life through when they eat.

Meals are a very everyday moment in your story that can provide order or disorder – if your character has to meet someone for lunch, obstacles preventing this can provide tension.

Eating is often entangled with a tight sense of time, so use this to your advantage.

Even small moments of tension and disorder can add a lot to your story.

Food as Sensation

Food invites rich and flavourful description.

All our senses are engaged while eating – not just sight and taste.

Think about how you can describe the intense smell of a curry, the way it feels as you chew it, the sizzling sound of the frying pan and the bubbling of the rice.

Create a rich sensory experience in your reader, maybe try and make them hungry.

A full-bodied description will make your scene come alive.

Food as Setting

Food is rich in cultural associations and tradition.

Do some research into where you are setting your story and explore what people there eat, when, and why – your character might be eating Sil (pickled herring) in midsummer, as is the tradition in Sweden, or celebrating Diwali with Besan Ladoo and other Indian sweets.

It is important to build a sense of specificity into the food.

But don’t fall into the trap of problematic food and cultural stereotypes – a character could just as easily be eating a burrito in Manchester as in Cancun, Mexico.

Food is often a shortcut to cultural understanding.

In the same way that literature connects stories with disparate readers, food itself acts as a vehicle for empathy in the communication between cultures and communities; both food and literature connect the self to the other in an act of empathy.

The act of eating is intimate, and hunger is vulnerable.

Picture your protagonist at her weakest, then give her a big plate of meaty spaghetti bolognaise, a Styrofoam tray of late-night cheesy chips, a ripe fresh peach, a hot bowl of Pho, or maybe an ice cream sundae.

At once, the writing will be enhanced simply for all of the rich sensory detail, and we will also see this character more clearly – she is given something physical, and a tension rises between the comfort of the food and the struggle of her situation, whatever it may be.

Stories thrive on tension and its release, and food is an incredible tool to either deflate or enhance that tension.

Food is inexorably connected to humanity, and so naturally plays a significant role in literature.

Food writing offers sensuality, symbolism, tension and empathy – for your readers and your characters alike.

Even if you're not writing foodie fiction or lavish descriptions of every meal, you can still use food to help readers learn about your characters. For example:

A character you want to depict as adventurous might try unusual foods from their region, like crunchy grasshoppers or grubs for an American, or a character can show that they're stressed and busy by forgetting to eat or chowing down on prepackaged food because they don't have time to cook.

You can show readers a character's heritage or familial background by having them cook or remember beloved family recipes, or demonstrate that they're artistic by having them plate their food beautifully.

A tip for writing about food is to use all 5 senses in your descriptions to really help your reader see, smell, taste, feel, and even hear the food.

Try and avoid words that are general and can make it hard to envision something specific. Let's take an apple.

We could call it delicious and beautiful, but that doesn't help us understand the specifics of what it looks and tastes like.

But if we say that it's shiny red, that it smells fruity, tastes sweet but also puckeringly tart, and that your teeth crunch on its firm white flesh, you can almost envision it yourself.

Wine-tasting can help you find words for fleeting and elusive flavors.

Keep a book of adjectives that work well for flavors: salty, sour, sweet, sugary, sharp, spicy.

Smell is important too: vinegary, burnt, fishy, fruity.

Temperature may be a little easier: hot, warm, cool, cold, iced.

Texture: dry, slippery, hard, damp, nutty. And so on.

How to Describe Food in Writing ⚜ The Vocabulary of Wine

Sources: 1 2 3 4 ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

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mariasont · 2 days ago

Note

hi!!!!

I'm soooo in love your work. bimbo!assistantreader wil always have a special place in my heart!!!

Now i have this of idea that i think can work for either aaron or spencer, but basically bau!reader who kind of always wears the same type of outfit in the field that's always really modest. Buttttt when they kind of like "know" it's just going to be a paperwork day she likes to were skirts... short skirts and Aaron/Spencer are just feral for them...

Can either be fluff of smut... I trust you indefinitely xxx

Short Skirt, Long Day - A.H

a/n: hi hi hi hiiiiiii!!! ugh thank u sm i kinda took this an interesting route so let me know what you think!!!! im also heavily thinking about writing a smutty pt 2 for this but id love to hear everyone’s opinions

masterlist

pairings: perv!aaronhotchner x bau!reader

warnings: 18+ MDNI, suggestive content, aaron being a straight PERV!!! (im into idk man), aaron imagining scenarios he didn’t shouldn’t at work, idk this is quite different from my usual postings but i kinda fuck with it

wc: 1.4k

Aaron Hotchner loved paperwork day.

Days like these meant the frenetic energy of ringing phones and rapid footsteps is replaced by the soft drone of air conditioning and the occasional rustle of files being shifted. It’s the kind of morning he appreciated—time to breathe, to recalibrate without the air of an active case breathing down his neck.

But that's not why his pulse is thrumming more than steadily beneath his skin.

Hotch glances at the clock on his desk. It's early—too early for most of the team to be here yet, save for a couple agents whose faces barely register in his peripheral vision. His focus is elsewhere, fixed on a singular thought. Or, rather, on a singular person.

You.

Hotch leans back in his chair, exhaling slowly as a shameful type of heat rises to his face. It's a little pathetic, he thinks, how predictable he's become—it's not the work that makes these mornings bearable anymore. It's the anticipation.

The knowledge that, any minute now, the elevator doors will part, and you'll step out, wearing something that will completely dismantle his carefully constructed composure.

Hotch had noticed a pattern (of course he did, that was his instinct honed to a razor's edge). In the field, your outfits are a study in practicality: slacks, fitted jackets, muted tones--professional to a T. Nothing flashy, nothing that would draw undue attention.

But in the office, when the cases are shelved, and the team is left to wade through stacks of paperwork... it's different.

And it drives him insane.

The image takes root before he can stop it: the curve of your thighs, tantalizingly framed by a skirt that seemed designed to test his limits. The way the fabric molds to you when you move, clinging in places that his eyes are all too quick to follow.

Hotch exhales sharply, clearing his throat as if that could somehow clear his mind. It's unprofessional--he knows this, knows better than to let his thoughts stray so far from where they belong but yet…

The ding of the elevator pulls his attention like a magnet, and there you are. His grip on the pen tightens instinctively, the knuckles blanching as his gaze locks on you.

You're wearing that skirt today--black, fitted, and infuriatingly short, hugging your hips in a way that leaves nothing to the imagination.

He tells himself to look away, and for a second, he manages it--his eyes dropping back to his desk, his breath coming out slow and measured. But that reprieve is fleeting. His gaze flicks back before he can stop it, drawn helplessly to the curve of your waist as you laugh at something one of the other agents say.

You're too good. Too sweet. Too damn oblivious to realize what you're doing to him.

And he knows it's wrong—knows he's toeing a line he has no business approaching. But the way his body reacts to you, the pull you have on him, is beyond reason. It's instinctual, raw, and completely out of his control.

He calls out your name. "Could you come in here for a moment?"

You turn, blinking at him with wide, curious eyes. "Yes, sir?"

"I need you to grab something for me," he replies, his voice level, though every syllable felt like a tightly coiled spring. He motions towards the cabinet near the corner of the room. "The Marcus file. Bottom shelf."

He was a terrible terrible man.

Without hesitation, you step toward the cabinet, crouching slightly as you begin to sift through the lower shelf. The moment your body lowers, his eyes start trailing down where the hem of your skirt lifts, just barely revealing the soft curve of where your thighs meet your ass. Then, as you bend further, shifting your weight slightly to reach deeper on the shelf, the fabric stretches taut, clinging to your ass in a way that sends a jolt straight through him.

Hotch's throat feels tight, his breathing shallow as he drinks in the sight before him. You're so close, just feet away, and the angle offers him an unobstructed view. The shape of you, the smooth expanse of skin that's always just out of reach in the field, is right there--so achingly close he feels like his chest might explode.

He knows if you dipped any further, your panties would be on display and he couldn’t help but wonder what color you had on.

You’ve always had a meticulous attention to detail, choices leaning towards deliberate but understated at the same time. In the field, you favored muted tones—greys, blacks, navies. But here in the relative safety of the office you allow a little more personality, more femininity.

His mind turns to your preferences—pink, maybe.

Hotch swallows hard, pulse roaring in his ears. The thought gnaws at him, insistent and unrelenting—he needs to know.

“Careful,” he says, feigning concern. “You might need to check further back on the shelf. Sometimes the files get pushed out of sight.”

You glance over your shoulder at him and he swears he could combust. “Further back?”

He nods, leaning back in his chair to appear casual, though his grip on the armrests were anything but. “Yes.”

You turn back to the cabinet, shifting your weight again as you crouch lower, leaning further to search the back of the shelf. The motion sends the bottom of your skirt riding higher, and for a brief, heart stopping moment, the lace of your panties is on full display.

It was a pink barely there strip of fabric.

His mind betrays him, conjuring images he knows he shouldn't entertain. He imagines his hands on you, running over the curve of his hips, gripping your thighs, sliding that damn skirt higher until there's nothing left to hide. The thought of you like this, pliant and completely unaware of the effect you're having on him, makes his pulse pound in his ears. He wonders what you would do if he were to push those panties to the side and slide a finger in you.

You shift again, leaning deeper into the cabinet as your voice drifts back to him, murmuring something about not seeing it. His jaw locks, teeth pressing together as he fights to maintain control. His fingers dig into the armrests of his chair, the leather creaking faintly beneath the strain. It's a futile effort, though; the pressure building in his chest, his body, is relentless.

The heat pools low in his abdomen, simmering and insistent, a sharp pulse of arousal tightening every muscle in his body. He's painfully hard now, the evidence uncomfortably against his slacks, but he doesn't dare move. His mind a blur of want--what he wants to do to you, what he knows he shouldn't do, and the precarious line he's treading just watching you like this.

The tension in his body seems unbearable, and for a fleeting second, he considers how easy it would be to walk over, to let his hand graze your hip, to tilt your chin up so you'd look at him and see the wreckage you've left in your wake.

But he doesn't. He can't.

Instead, he forces himself to remain still, staying rooted, the self-restraint biting and bitter.

"Are you sure it's under here? I still don't see it."

Hotch's lips twitch, the smallest shadow of a smirk threatening to break free on his face. He leans forward, feigning surprise as he picks up the file from the corner of his desk.

"Ah," he says, waving the file. "Looks like it's been right here the whole time."

You straighten abruptly, brushing your hands down your skirt and turning towards him with a soft laugh. "Hotch! So I was practically upside down in that cabinet for nothing!"

He shakes his head, giving a small chuckle to match yours. Not for nothing. The satisfaction still simmers low in his chest, a private indulgence he knows you'll never suspect--the movement was far from wasted.

"My mistake."

"Well, I guess we all have our moments. Let me know if there's anything else you need, okay?"

When the door finally closes behind you, he exhales shakily, the breath spilling out like a confession. Leaning back in his chair, he presses his fingers to his temples, his entire body tense with the effort of restraint. He feels unmoored, like a man balancing on the edge of a precipice, one misstep away from losing everything he’s worked so hard to keep under control.

But for now, he’ll settle for watching, for imagining, for wishing—knowing full well that nothing could ever come of it. And yet, as he glances at the door where you’d just been, a part of him wonders how much longer he can hold out.

It’s going to be an impossibly long day—but the most troubling part of all is how much he’s starting to enjoy the torment.

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foodiegoogie · 2 days ago

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pahinga (rest)

remus lupin x fem!reader | 1.7k

summary: remus can’t sleep again. luckily, you come to save him, and he finds his rest in you. cw/tags: self-deprecation, slight anxiety (?), three little eepy bois and one (1) insomniac, peter pettigrew appears (he’s not corrupted here), hurt/comfort <3 note: 'pahinga' means rest in filipino. its root word, 'hinga,' means 'to breathe/breath.' the 'pa' part can make it literally mean, 'let me breathe.' also, u can never have too much “reader patches up remus after a full moon” fics 🥰🥰 p.s. the vibes are inspired from isa lang (only one) by arthur nery <3

It’s way past midnight in the Hospital Wing, and Remus knows this because his friends are knocked out around him; James is sprawled out like a starfish on a cot to his left, Sirius laid asleep at the edge of Remus’ own cot, and Peter had long since made himself comfortable in the cot on the right, curled up in a blanket.

Usually, they’d be up late with Remus. Something about boys being boys, having an endless amount of energy surging within themselves. But they were also only human at the end of the day, despite being unregistered Animagi.

Remus also knows that he should be asleep himself alongside his best friends, but this particular night had taken a toll on him. Sure, he’s had full moon nights happening every month, every year, ever since he was turned at four years old. But regardless of how frequent they took place, it never became easy to deal with for the lycanthrope. Especially not now while he’s unable to sleep.

Poor Madam Pomfrey—she’d given Remus countless potions to aid him in his condition, time and time again. But it seems like even the Sleeping Draught that was brewed for him earlier just couldn’t work on him either.

Thinking about failing to fall asleep is ironically keeping him from falling asleep. Remus Lupin is, quite frankly, stressing out about not being asleep yet. He knows he needs it, so why can’t he do it? He almost feels immensely envious of how easy it was for his own friends to have fallen asleep quicker than he did, and he was the one who turned into a werewolf that night.

Remus turns his head to get a look at Sirius’ slumbering face where it lay at the edge of his cot. Sirius is a handsome being, whether asleep or not. But right now, his wide-awake friend doesn’t know whether to be glad because he gets to appreciate his friend’s company because he’s asleep, or if said friend should be frustrated for the very same reason.

Before Remus even gets to decide however, he hears footsteps scurrying towards the entrance of the Hospital Wing. He perks up at the sound, attempting to sit up in his cot but failing, wincing as he was reminded of his injuries.

He doesn’t know which comes first: the sound of the double doors being pushed open or the bags of chocolate falling to the ground, coming from your arms.

Remus’ bleary eyes flicker over to your incoming presence - how he knows you’re here for him is needless to say with the bags of chocolate you’re re-gathering in your arms presently. He sees you throw an apologetic glance, mouthing “sorry,” but Remus receives it with a lazy smile, more amused and fond than it was teasing.

“Hope I didn’t wake them,” You whisper to him as you approach his cot, looking warily at the three slumbering boys surrounding him. Remus feels compelled to follow your gaze towards them, address that you didn’t actually wake them (and he’s certain that you didn’t, the lads sleep like a log), but his eyes remain on you as well as his smile.

“What’re you doing here?” He murmurs.

You scoff quietly, giving him an incredulous look. “What, not even a ‘hello, how are you?’ You’ve changed, Lupin.”

Remus’ smile widens at your words, the familiar banter bringing a lighthearted feeling in his chest. He doesn’t know if it’s because of his fatigue mixed with frustration that’s making him feel lightheaded, but he finds himself momentarily entranced by the sight of you as you start to near him in his cot. The moonlight which filtered through the windows finally landed on your features, and Remus was convinced at that moment that he’s met an angel in person: you.

“Anywho, I come bearing gifts,” You perch yourself on the edge of his cot, setting down the array of chocolates beside him. Remus shifts so that there’s more room for you in his bed.

He looks down at the sweets, the corners of his lips quirking up into a lazy smile, then looks back up to you.

“Dark or milk?” Remus asks.

You furrow your eyebrows, giving him an incredulous look to which the boy grins at. “Milk, duh. I’m not dumb, Remus. You only go for dark when you’re feeling fancy.”

It’s true; Remus doesn’t like dark chocolate as much as he likes milk chocolate, which is a classic and a whole lot sweeter than the former. He tries not to think too hard about how you knew that about himself like it was just sitting casually in the place of your mind. He wonders, then, about what else you knew about him, and took care to remember and save for times like this. His heart races at the thought.

“Did you come all the way here to butcher me for my taste in chocolate? Flattering, really,” Remus quips, reaching for one of the chocolates.

“No. I came here to do just that and more actually,” You mirror his actions, unwrapping the chocolate from its plastic shell, popping the whole treat in your mouth all in one go.

It’s a lot more attractive than Remus would like to admit - you being so unapologetically yourself, uncaring about being seen as prim and proper. Here you are, sitting in front of him, munching on the chocolates you’ve brought him and looking like a squirrel stuffing nuts in its mouth for the winter. Adorable, he thinks.

But then your eyes narrow at him, and he’s caught in the act of shamelessly staring at you. It’s only then that he realizes that he has been staring at you.

“See something you like?” You wriggle your eyebrows suggestively, reaching for another chocolate from the dwindling bunch on the bed.

“No,” His voice comes out a little breathy, an octave a tad higher than what’s normal. Remus clears his throat. “Just- it’s amazing how you keep going.”

You pause mid-bite into another chocolate drop, putting it back inside its plastic wrap with a sheepish smile. “Right, I brought these for you. Not for me.”

“S’alright,” Remus smiles fondly at your suddenly shy expression. “I couldn’t finish them all by myself, anyway.”

A soft chuckle falls from your lips, shoulders relaxing from his reassuring words. Even in such a state, Remus still goes out of his way to make sure people are cared for in his own, heartwarming ways. But rarely does he ever take the time to inflict the same kind of treatment to himself.

And, speaking of which—

“I thought you’d be asleep, you know,” You blurt out all of a sudden, fidgeting with the unwrapped, uneaten chocolate in your hands. “coming here. So… why aren’t you?”

“Dunno,” Remus lets out a deep sigh, his fatigue finally coming through in his expression. Your chest tightens at the sight and sound of it.

Finally, he finishes, saying, “I just… can’t.”

Almost instantly, a knot forms between your brows at the same time the corners of your lips turn downwards into a slight frown. Remus hates being pitied. He’s had enough of people apologizing on his behalf, as if he had been a mistake in the first place long before he was given this unfortunate tragedy, a weight he has to bear on his shoulders for the rest of his life.

But with you, it’s never pity that he sees in your eyes when you look at him. It’s something warmer, something that’s coming from a deeper place of intent. Something like care—genuine care, and concern. Perhaps there’s more than that, but Remus is already dizzy enough as it is right now, and he doesn’t want to render himself unconscious just because he’s feeling a little lovesick by you.

“Oh no, I’m keeping you up, aren’t I?” You say, and Remus is a bit startled by it. You don’t notice. “Should I leave? I– I feel like I should leave—”

“No, no. Just—” Stay.

Remus reminds himself to be very careful with his next words, lest he betrays his true feelings and ruins one of the few good things he has in his godforsaken life.

Another thing that he hates is owing people something, or anything really. It’s no big deal for him to go out of his way and be the giver rather than the receiver out of a pair, but it bothers him to no end to think that he’d actually have people do something—anything just for him.

For some reason, it just feels… wrong for him. Almost as if Remus believes that he doesn’t deserve that kind of treatment.

But for the love of Merlin, he’d really like to get some sleep, and he really likes you being here with him. And if you walked right out of the Hospital Wing right now, leaving him alone, Remus is certain that he’d be getting no sleep at all.

So, just this once, he’ll be selfish.

“Just… just talk to me. Tell me about your night.”

You furrow your eyebrows, a slightly amused smile coming alive on your face as you ask, “My night? Well, my night’s going pretty well right now.”

Remus rolls his eyes, but the smile on his face betrays his true emotions. “Tell me about your day, then.”

Now, a full-blown grin takes place on your face. “Now that I can do.”

And so, you start telling him about your day in a hushed voice, careful not to be too loud as you recount something that had made you happy during the day so as not to wake the other three boys you’re surrounded by.

Far along the way as you’re speaking to him, your hands—yours and his—drift closer and closer to each other. Remus wonders if you notice this, even as you’ve taken ahold of it now and started to play with his fingers absentmindedly.

Before he knew it, he was on the way to dreamland by the ticklish yet gentle feeling of you tracing the lines of his palm, coupled by the soft timbre of your voice, low and sweet.

It is then that Remus realizes that he finds his absolute rest in you.

A shame that he managed to miss the featherlight kiss you leave on his forehead as you bid him a good night, though.

aaa thank you for reading! (づ￣ 3￣)づ as always, likes, replies, and reblogs are very much appreciated !! <3

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #remus x reader #remus lupin angst #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fic #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin oneshot #marauders fic #marauders fanfiction #marauders era #the marauders x reader #marauders fandom #foodiegoogie writes

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trulyy-yourzz · 3 days ago

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𐙚𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠

♡smut – b.e x fem!reader

A/N: I came up with this randomly while I was out, but i hope you all enjoyy😚

Edit: Should I make a taglist... I will, but only if you guys would want me to 🙂

"Billie.. you can't be serious, " you giggled, nudging her shoulder, slightly shoving her away from you. She grabbed onto your waist, pushing you back against the professors desk. Your heart raced at her touch and the mischievous glint in her eyes. "What? Come onnn, you know you want to." She said. Her bottom lip tucked between her teeth.

You two were reckless. Mostly billie who had a heavy influence on you. But you were just two college girls making the most of what it was like to be young and dumb. Emphasis on the dumb.

The classroom was empty, safe for you and Billie. The soft glow of the setting sun filtered through the blinds, casting long shadows across the desks and blackboard. It was the perfect opportunity for you and your girlfriend to have a lesson of your own.

"We really shouldn't be doing this here," you whispered, even as your body arched into hers.

"Nobody will catch us.. It's the end of the day. Everyone's gone home." She said with the intent of persuading you. And of course, like every other time. You complied.

Grabbing onto her collar, you pulled her impossibly closer to you, glaring directly into her icy blue eyes. "Okay. But I swear Billie.. if we get caught-" She just chuckled and shrugged her shoulders. "No promises, sweetheart." And without another second to spair, her lips were connected with yours. Kissing like there was no tomorrow. Ravishing eachother. Tongues fighting for dominance.

Billie purred, the sound low and seductive. The vibrations run through your body. Straight to your core. Causing your knees to buckle and instantly granting Billie dominance.

Billie pulls back, a single string of saliva connected to your lips. "No one's around. It's just you and me." Her hands slid lower, teasing along the hem of your jeans. "This is so bad." You breath, rolling your eyes. "But so fun?" A sly smirk creeped across her face.

She lifted you up, placing you on the professors desk as random trinkets rolled off the desk and fell onto the floor. "You're unbelievable." You scoffed. "You love it."

Billie stepped back for a moment, drinking in the sight of you. Her eyes were full of dark lust, her chest heaving with each breath. "Fuck, you're gorgeous," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She reached for the hem of her own shirt, pulling it over her head and tossing it aside.

Your breath caught in your throat. Mesmerized by her toned body, your eyes lingering on her pert breasts. She smirked at your obvious appreciation. "See something you like?" You nodded your head, your gaze still stuck on the curves that sculptured her body perfectly. She was gods perfection.

"Your turn." She walked back over to you, grabbing at the hem of your own shirt and yanking it over your head. Doing the same as she did with hers and tossing it aside. "Just beautiful."

The air was thick with anticipation as Billie's hands roamed over your hips, her touch electric against your skin. Sending shockwaves of lust and desire through every skin to skin contact.

You moaned. Her teeth nipping and her tongue tracing patterns at the skin of your neck. "15 minutes Billie." She smirked against your neck, bringing her head up. Billies eyes piercing through your skin.

She snaked her hand down to the buckle of your jeans. Unclasping them as she slid them down your thighs, but not completely taking them off. Just leaving enough room to take care of the mess between your legs.

"Only 15..?" You nodded your head. Your back arching and arms instantly wrapping around her neck as she pressed a finger against your seeping cunt.

"I can make it work."

Notes: Thankfully, this one didn't delete 🥲 and a special thanks to @tan1shere for helping me out 🙂‍↕️

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whizzing-fizzbee · 3 days ago

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Girls' Night

Sebastian Sallow x F!OC

Summary: Emmeline Alexander plans a girls' night for Anne Sallow and their friends at the cottage in Feldcroft, but her best friend and crush Sebastian insists on crashing the party. In other words, MC (Emmeline) and Sebastian take advantage of the Silencio spell in Sebastian's bedroom after a night of playing Never Have I Ever. Rating: Explicit 18+ (Minors DNI) Themes: Friends to lovers, slumber party, sleepover, girl talk, smut, romance Word count: 7,568 Notes: Every time I sit down to write my chapter fics, I accidentally write some nonsensical smut. Oops.

Characters are all seventh years and 18 years old. MC is an original female character named Emmeline Alexander.

Part 1 is clean, Part II has all the smut. Both can be found on AO3 or below the cut.

Part I: Girls' Night

Nightfall was reaching Feldcroft as Emmeline Alexander approached the quaint hamlet. She was tired from a long day of studying, but had decided to fly her broom there from Hogwarts. The fresh air was good for her and gave her some time to relax before what was sure to be a boisterous night.

Once she touched down, Emmeline made the familiar short trek to that same cottage – the one she’d been visiting regularly for over two years. Now, the cottage was larger – the handiwork of some transfiguration spells and charms she had mastered in the Room of Requirement. The home had two floors and separate bedrooms now, and she’d even added some flower boxes to the windows with simple, yet pretty landscaping outside.

It felt like home. In many ways, it was her second home.

The lights inside the cottage were on and Emmeline could hear joyous laughter and voices inside. She grinned to herself with anticipation as she knocked.

The door swung open and she was surprised by the first face to greet her.

“Sebastian?” she said stupidly.

“How nice to see you, too,” the freckled 18-year-old replied. He grinned at her and Emmeline felt her stomach flip.

“Emmeline!” Anne Sallow, Imelda Reyes and Poppy Sweeting waved from their seats around the dining table inside.

Emmeline moved to enter the home but was blocked by Sebastian, who held an arm across the threshold to prevent her from entering. “Wait,” he said, his lips forming a smirk. “You have to answer a security question.”

“Security question?” Emmeline repeatedly stupidly. “Seb, it’s me.”

“A likely response from an imposter,” Sebastian quipped while Anne, Imelda and Poppy giggled.

Emmeline sighed at the frivolity of it all. Clearly the group had already opened the firewhiskey. “Fine,” she sighed. “What’s the question?”

“Who was your first crush at Hogwarts?” Sebastian asked.

“Why is that the question?”

“Because the answer’s funny.”

Emmeline sighed again. “Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

“Fine. Ominis,” Emmeline muttered quietly.

“Who?”

“Ominis Gaunt.”

The group inside roared with laughter as Emmeline shoved her way past Sebastian, tossing her satchel on the floor once inside.

“Bastard,” she mumbled. Sebastian threw an arm around her and pulled her in for a sideways hug.

“You know you love me,” he teased before Emmeline shoved him away.

“I’d love to be rid of you,” she sneered. “Besides, isn’t this supposed to be a girls’ night? Why are you here?”

“Don’t worry, darling, I’ll be out of your hair soon,” Sebastian said. “I’ll retreat to my room so you lovely ladies can do whatever it is you do.”

“Why aren’t you at Hogwarts?”

“Because it’s the weekend and all of my favorite people are here… except Ominis, but I reckon he’d appreciate a break from me,” Sebastian said.

“I’d appreciate a break from you too,” Emmeline huffed. “Especially after that stunt you pulled at breakfast this morning.”

“That was an accident, darling. I didn’t know the goblet was going to explode like that.”

Emmeline rolled her eyes and slinked past him to take a seat at the table with her other friends. She was quick to pour herself a glass from the firewhiskey bottle that sat on the table.

“Where’s Natty?” she asked as she reached for a handful of pear drops from a bowl.

“She’ll be here any moment,” Poppy answered. “She was having dinner with her mum.”

“And Nellie?”

“She’s not coming. She had a date.”

Emmeline’s eyes widened with curiosity. “With whom?”

“Everett.”

“Clopton?”

“Do we know another Everett?” Sebastian chimed in from the sink where he was cleaning dishes. Emmeline turned to glare at him.

“Excuse me, but I do believe this is supposed to be a girls’ night,” she chided. “These conversations are not meant to include you.”

Imelda and Poppy shared a glance, their understanding mutual. It was going to be a long, albeit entertaining night with Sebastian and Emmeline egging each other on. It was the nature of their friendship, and neither could help themselves.

But despite their ceaseless banter, Emmeline and Sebastian were incredibly fond of each other, carrying a close bond that traced back to the start of their fifth year. Since then, their lives became irrevocably intertwined, woven by the threads of adventure, trauma and mutual secrets.

They were inseparable most days, except when Sebastian inevitably said or did something foolish. He provided an edge that contrasted Emmeline’s poise, an amusing juxtaposition to all who had the privilege to sit back and observe the tandem.

What neither of them could admit, though, was that their bond, no matter how unyielding, wasn’t quite enough to satiate either of them.

A brisk knock at the door signaled Natty’s arrival. Sebastian answered it again and offered Natty a much more hospitable welcome than the one he’d given Emmeline.

“Why doesn’t she have to answer any security questions?” Emmeline demanded.

“Because she is trustworthy,” Sebastian said, flashing an innocent grin. Emmeline shot him a glare, which only seemed to bring him more glee.

The five girls settled in around the table, catching up on their latest life updates. Though Emmeline, Imelda, Natty and Poppy saw one another daily at Hogwarts, Emmeline had taken it upon herself to ensure Anne wouldn’t feel left out. She knew Anne missed Hogwarts and her friends, especially now that it was their seventh year, so she arranged a slumber party to bring some cheer to the Feldcroft cottage.

“Natty, how was dinner with your mum?” Emmeline asked.

Natty sighed. “Not good,” she replied. “My mother doesn’t like the idea of me dating Eric.”

“Why not? Eric’s nice,” Poppy said.

“She doesn’t think Eric has enough ambition,” Natty explained.

“Well they can’t all be Slytherins,” Emmeline laughed.

“Too true!” Anne laughed.

“And they can’t all be Leander, who still seems to think he’s going to be a world-renowned duelist,” Poppy muttered.

Emmeline offered her a sympathetic smile. “He’s still on about that?” she asked.

“More than ever,” Poppy sighed. “It’s rather insufferable, really. Makes me wonder if there’s something wrong with my head for fancying him.”

Meanwhile, Sebastian listened to their conversation with fascination as he pretended to dry dishes in the kitchen. Sure, he knew girls had these kinds of discussions, but they usually chose their words carefully or withheld certain details when boys were around. He felt like they were providing him with some kind of answer sheet that could help him crack the code to what it was that women actually wanted.

“Leander always means well,” Emmeline continued. “Sometimes it comes off a bit obnoxious or paltry, but his intentions are always good.”

“I wish I knew what his intentions are with me,” Poppy sighed. “He’s all over the place. Anyway, I guess I should be patient with him. He may be delusional at times, but at least he has ambitions.”

“Eric does have ambitions, though,” Natty sighed. “He’s very brave and has a good head on his shoulders. He just isn’t sure what he wants to do after Hogwarts yet. I told my mother he’d figure it out and find a good job, but she doesn’t seem convinced.”

“She’ll come around,” Emmeline assured. “She’s just being a protective mother. She just needs to get to know him a little more.”

“I hope that’s true,” Natty said. “I really like him.”

“He really likes you too,” Imelda noted. “I overheard him singing your praises to Weasley in Potions last week. You know, before the class had to clear out because of Garreth’s rogue potion.”

“Speaking of Garreth,” Poppy giggled. “I heard you had to let him down easy, Emmeline.”

“What?!”

The five girls jumped at the sudden intrusion, turning to stare at Sebastian, who had been listening intently from his spot near the sink.

“Will you mind your business?!” Anne chided.

“Weasley asked you out?” Sebastian asked, his gaze fixed on Emmeline as he ignored his sister’s scolding.

Emmeline furrowed her brow at him, still taken aback by his sudden outburst. “What, is that so hard to believe?” she demanded.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Sebastian replied. He was fortunate he was standing with one side turned away from the group of girls, because a vein in his neck threatened to expose just how irritated he was. “I’m just surprised, is all. Didn’t know Weasley had it in him.”

“Well I told him thanks but no thanks,” Emmeline said, still eyeing Sebastian suspiciously. “I like Garreth but he’s not my type.”

“And what is your type?” Imelda asked. “Judging from your past dating history, I’m not sure you have one.”

Emmeline paused. It was true, the boys she’d gone out with were all quite different from one another. Her first crush at Hogwarts had been Ominis, which all of her friends gleefully reminded her of much too frequently for her liking. She had fancied him because he was noble and composed, yet just playful enough to avoid being deemed too stuffy. But that crush had been fleeting as she and Ominis became close friends, and Emmeline’s affections were replaced by the other member of their trio, who was just the right amount of daring and incalculable she adored.

Then there was Amit Thakkar, who had been incredibly romantic and sweet, but not quite adventurous enough for her. There was also Andrew Larson, who intrigued Emmeline with his artistry and creative spirit, but was also too keen on staying indoors and out of trouble.

Emmeline had agreed to a handful of Hogsmeade visits and informal dates with other boys in her year, but none had reached more than one or two outings before she offered some excuse, usually that she was too busy to date.

In truth, Emmeline’s preoccupation had little to do with her schedule and everything to do with the only boy who had never pursued her.

She and Sebastian teased, flirted, even made suggestive remarks not suitable for most platonic friendships. They spent most of their free time, meals and classes together, far too often even for best mates. They shared secrets, musings and inside jokes that no other ears would ever hear, but they remained unaware that their biggest secret was mutual.

“I guess Garreth is just too… superficial for me,” Emmeline finally said with a shrug. “Don’t get me wrong, I like him. He makes me laugh and he’s always fun to hang out with, but I can’t recall ever having one deep or meaningful conversation with him in the two-and-a-half years I’ve known him. I want someone who makes me laugh but also makes me think.”

“But didn’t you say Amit was too deep for you?” Imelda pointed out.

Emmeline sighed. “There’s no such thing as too deep,” she said. “Amit was just too… philosophical. He was always trying to apply some underlying meaning to everything. It was just too much for me. Sometimes, I think things just happen because that’s how life works. There’s not always any rhyme or reason to its occurrences. That said, I also enjoy reflecting on how life shapes us.”

“I’m not sure you’re ever going to find someone who offers you that right balance of perception and candor,” Natty laughed.

“Maybe you need to stop dating so many Ravenclaws,” Sebastian, who had been hanging onto their every word, chimed in.

“What’s wrong with Ravenclaws?” Emmeline demanded, turning to glare at him.

“They don’t match your sense of adventure,” Sebastian replied simply. “They’d rather bury their noses in books than use their wands.”

“Says the bloke who owns more books than anyone I know,” Emmeline said.

“There’s nothing wrong with a thirst for knowledge,” Sebastian said smoothly. “But what’s the point in all that knowledge if you aren’t going to apply it to the real world?”

Emmeline couldn’t argue with that. It was precisely why she and Sebastian had become best friends. He was smart, yet daring enough to keep her guessing. Sure, that recklessness had nearly destroyed their lives at one point, but Emmeline had been patient and understanding with Sebastian as he worked to repair his past mistakes. Since that fateful fifth year, he had proved to her that he was remorseful, and Emmeline’s fondness for her friend morphed into something much heavier.

But she would never admit that, nor did she want to discuss her dating history with him. Instead, she retreated to her best defense – the wit and snark that masked her fear of ever confessing her feelings.

“And what’s the point in having a girls’ night when you’re here?” she retorted.

Sebastian responded with a smirk. “You love me.”

“I’d love to murder you.”

“Murder?” Sebastian drawled. “Such violent thoughts from such a tiny, little thing. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Careful, Sallow,” Imelda laughed. “We’ve all seen what she can do to you in a duel.”

“And I went easy on you last time,” Emmeline added.

“You’re anything but easy,” Sebastian shot back. The room fell quiet, Emmeline’s eyes growing wide while Poppy’s mouth fell open. Sebastian regretted his words instantly, knowing damn well the girls would giggle about them and dissect them later.

Imelda, ever the bold, mouthy one of the group, was the first to bark a laugh. “You two are something else,” she said, shaking her head. Emmeline also shook her head in an attempt to appear unbothered by Sebastian’s jeer.

“Say, I have an idea,” Anne said, her eyes carrying an impish gleam. “Let’s play a game. Sebastian, you can play too if you want, considering you’re practically one of the girls.”

“Hey now!”

The girls giggled but Sebastian made no attempt to leave the room. Instead, he finished drying the final dish – the same one he’d been “drying” for the past 20 minutes – and placed it away inside a cupboard, tossing the dish towel on the counter before he pulled a chair up to the table between Anne and Emmeline.

“Fine. Since you ladies clearly insist on my presence,” he said smoothly. “What’s the game?”

“Let’s play Never Have I Ever,” Anne said innocently. She flicked her wand, another bottle of firewhiskey sailing from a cabinet until it landed neatly on the table with a soft thud. Anne flashed a grin at the circle of friends. “We’re going to need this.

Part II: Never Have I Ever

“Never have I ever bailed on detention.”

“Poppy, have you even had detention?” Sebastian laughed. The group echoed him with a warm chuckle, a signal that the firewhiskey was in full effect.

“Precisely why I’ve never bailed on it,” Poppy said proudly.

Sebastian and Natty both drank from their glasses, sparking another round of giggles.

“Of course,” Anne mused. “Sebastian’s skipped more detentions than he’s snogged girls in broom cupboards, which is really saying something.”

“And how would you know about my broom cupboard escapades?” Sebastian demanded.

“I know everything,” Anne answered, gesturing to the ring of friends around them. “I have eyes and ears everywhere.”

“More like eyes and ears in the form of a certain quidditch captain,” Sebastian muttered, shooting a pointed glance at Imelda, who straightened in her chair with a smug smile.

“Someone has to keep your sister informed on your everyday life,” she said. “Merlin knows you’ve had enough extracurriculars to entertain us all.”

Emmeline was decidedly quiet throughout the exchange. Of course, she knew of Sebastian’s illicit activities. He had become the talk among most of the girls at Hogwarts, particularly since the start of their seventh year when it had become clear that Sebastian was more of a man than a boy. Now 18, Sebastian’s features were much more handsome than cute, though he still clung to his boyish charisma.

Though Emmeline wanted to fling herself from the top of the Astronomy Tower every time she heard a new rumor about Sebastian and his latest fling, she typically kept quiet on the matter. Despite all the secrets they shared, she and Sebastian rarely discussed their love lives. It was the one element of their lives they chose to keep from one another.

Imelda’s turn came next. “Never have I ever snogged someone in a broom cupboard,” she cackled.

Sebastian groaned and took a drink. So did Emmeline.

“Who have you been snogging, and in which broom cupboard?” Sebastian demanded, setting his glass down with an audible bang.

“What’s wrong, afraid all the good cupboards will be taken?” Emmeline teased. Sebastian glowered at her, much to her satisfaction. “You aren’t the only one with secrets, Sebastian Sallow.”

Anne was the only one who noticed how Sebastian’s jaw tightened. She smiled to herself as she realized it was her turn.

“Never have I ever wanted to snog my best friend,” she declared boldly.

Imelda snorted as Sebastian and Emmeline both froze, rather noticeably. Everyone else sat, their drink glasses untouched, leaving the pair to glance nervously toward one another. Finally, Emmeline sat back and folded her arms across her chest for emphasis.

“No one?” Anne asked innocently. “Someone here must be lying.”

Emmeline averted her eyes while Sebastian stared at the table as if it had suddenly transformed into the most interesting book he’d ever read. The silence that settled over them roared with implication evident to everyone but Sebastian and Emmeline.

“Well, I suppose it’s my turn,” Sebastian finally said, shooting an annoyed glance at Anne who smiled innocently. Sebastian thought for a moment, his eyes flickering toward Emmeline for a fleeting second. “Never have I ever used Polyjuice to impersonate a headmaster.”

Emmeline gasped at his audacity, provoking a chortle from Sebastian. “I swore you to secrecy on that!” she hissed.

“It was two years ago, might as well have a good laugh about it now,” Sebastian said. He reached in front of Emmeline to nudge her drinking class closer to her. “Go on now, drink.”

Emmeline huffed at him before taking a sip. “Bastard,” she muttered before she was forced to recall the time she broke into Headmaster Black’s office. When she finished the story, she turned her head slowly toward Sebastian for emphasis. His gaze matched hers as he tried to appear unbothered, but Emmeline knew him too well. And he knew her too well, meaning he sensed payback was brewing.

She cleared her throat for dramatic effect. “Never have I ever worn my sister’s dress.”

The room paused in silent shock as the other girls processed Emmeline’s words. Finally, a burst of laughter erupted and Sebastian’s cheeks tinged red as he took a drink.

“That was one time!” he insisted, which only provoked more laughter from the girls. “I was drunk!”

Emmeline leaned back in her chair, her eyes glinting with satisfaction as Sebastian was forced to retell the time he drank too much the previous Christmas in Feldcroft and got into Anne’s wardrobe.

“In my defense, Ominis and Em were the ones egging me on,” Sebastian huffed.

“My only regret is not taking a photo to remember the moment,” Anne laughed. “Not that I could forget it if I tried.”

“Always knew you had a kinky side to you, Sallow,” Imelda teased.

The game carried on for several more rounds until the group’s drunken antics had Poppy slumping in her seat. She nearly toppled backward in a fit of giggles at something Imelda said, stirring concern from Sebastian and Emmeline, who were the most sober.

“Poppy!” Emmeline shouted as the chair tipped dangerously. “Maybe you should lie down for a bit.”

Sebastian checked his pocket watch. “It’s nearly two in the morning,” he said. “Perhaps we should all get some sleep.”

Emmeline nodded in agreement as she helped Poppy from the chair, using her wand to conjure five sleeping bags on the living room floor.

“Oh, are you and Sebastian sharing a bag?” Imelda pestered. Emmeline rolled her eyes and eased Poppy to the floor to help her inside a sleeping bag.

“As much as Sebastian would probably love nothing more than to sleep in a room surrounded by 18-year-old women, he has a room of his own,” Emmeline replied as Poppy curled up sleepily.

“Wouldn’t want you ladies fighting over who gets to sleep next to me,” Sebastian drawled.

Imelda heaved a sound of disgust as she helped Natty, who was also quite inebriated, into a sleeping bag.

“Emmeline, please do something about your boyfriend,” Imelda ordered.

“He’s not my boyfriend! He disgusts me just as much as you do!”

“Oh please, the two of you have been verbally edging each other all night. Get a room. Just make sure you use a silencing charm,” Imelda teased.

Sebastian chuckled at the girls and headed toward the staircase.

“Goodnight, my darlings!” he called before he disappeared up the stairs to retreat to his bedroom.

Emmeline slipped down the hallway to change into her pajamas before walking a lap around the cottage’s first floor, extinguishing the lights. She climbed into a sleeping bag next to Anne, who was just settling down herself.

“Thank you for planning this evening,” Anne said. Emmeline rolled onto her back, the dim cottage falling quiet except for Poppy’s light snoring.

“Of course,” Emmeline said. “I’m glad we got to have a fun girls’ night. Or girls’ night plus Sebastian.”

Anne giggled. “He just can’t help himself, can he?” she laughed. “Always has to be the center of attention.”

“I think he just likes to be included in things,” Emmeline noted, her voice falling quiet as her eyes scanned the ceiling, where she knew Sebastian was sleeping overhead. “Ever since you and Ominis let him back into your lives, he’s made it a point to spend time with you. Doesn’t want to take you for granted.”

“I know,” Anne replied softly. “I’m glad he’s worked so hard to change. And I’m glad he has you, you know. Maybe he doesn’t admit it, but you’re just as important to him as Ominis and me.”

Emmeline let out a gentle laugh. “I’ll continue to give him the dignity of believing I don’t know that. Even if the moron doesn’t deserve it.”

Anne giggled in acknowledgement. She listened to Imelda’s breathing change next to her, indicating she had also fallen asleep.

“I really am glad you didn’t give up on him, after everything that happened, after what he did,” Anne said quietly. “I like to think your support was what kept him from breaking.”

“He’s a good person, one of the best I know,” Emmeline responded. “He shouldn’t have to spend the rest of his life paying for what he did when he knows how wrong it was. He deserved a second chance and I’m always going to support that.”

“He deserves a good punch in the face sometimes, too,” Anne muttered, drawing a giggle from Emmeline.

“That, he does,” she agreed.

The pair allowed silence to settle over the room until Anne suddenly shivered.

“Are you cold?” Emmeline asked, sitting up to peer at Anne through the darkness.

“Just a little,” Anne replied. “It gets rather drafty in here.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to just sleep in your own room?” Emmeline asked. “I know you wanted to do the whole slumber party thing, but it seems silly for you to sleep here on the floor when you have a perfectly comfy bed upstairs.”

“It’s girls’ night,” Anne insisted. “I want to spend time with my best girl friends.”

“At least let me fetch you another blanket,” Emmeline said, rising to her feet.

“There’s one upstairs on my bed,” Anne answered. “Oh, and there’s a second one in the closet in Sebastian’s room.”

Emmeline paused. “You need both?”

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Anne replied innocently. Emmeline nodded and crept carefully, tiptoeing around the other sleeping girls toward the staircase.

She stopped in Anne’s bedroom at the top of the stairs first, gathering a quilt from the bed before continuing down the hallway toward the last door. It was slightly ajar but the lights were out, causing her to linger in hesitation.

She stood quietly, listening carefully for a sign that Sebastian was still awake. The only sound she could hear was the snores from the living room below.

“Sebastian?” she finally whispered as she gently shouldered the door open. She poked her head inside, squinting to peer at Sebastian. He was under the covers, seemingly fast asleep.

She tread quietly toward the closet door, where she found another quilt folded on the top shelf. She stood on her tiptoes to reach it and gently pulled it downward, tucking it beneath an arm.

Sebastian stirred quietly, but didn’t react. Emmeline retreated slowly toward the door, holding her breath as if any more noise would be disastrous.

Suddenly, one of the blankets caught beneath her foot and pulled as she stepped. Emmeline stumbled, her footsteps pounding loudly on the wood floors before she finally lost her balance and toppled over with a thud.

“Who’s there?!” Sebastian sat upright, one hand fumbling over the nightstand for his wand.

“Shh! It’s me! Sebastian, it’s me!” Emmeline hissed, still sprawled out on the floor.

“Em?”

“Yes!”

“What the hell are you doing in here?”

“I was getting another blanket for Anne!”

“And you entered my bedroom unannounced?”

“You were asleep!”

“What if I’d been doing something private?”

“Ew! Were you?”

“No! I was sleeping!”

“Then what’s it matter?”

“This is my bedroom!” Sebastian squinted through the darkness as he tried to make out Emmeline’s form. “Why are you on the floor?”

“I tripped.” Emmeline managed to untangle herself from the heap of blankets and climb to her feet as Sebastian found his wand.

“Lumos!” The tip of his wand cast a warm light throughout the room, revealing Emmeline standing about three feet from the door. She couldn’t help but sneak a double-take as she realized Sebastian had been sleeping shirtless.

Sebastian swallowed. Emmeline’s pajamas revealed much more skin than he’d been accustomed to seeing from her, the neckline of her top dipping dangerously low across the tops of her breasts. He’d never seen her in her sleep attire before, their separate Hogwarts houses keeping them apart at night. Besides, whenever he pictured her in bed, she was wearing far, far less.

Meanwhile, Emmeline took in Sebastian’s tousled hair and sleepy eyes. She hated how enticing he looked, even in such a vulnerable state.

“Uh, are you okay?” Sebastian finally asked.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Okay. Is everyone else asleep?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

As the room fell quiet, Emmeline willed her feet to move. Instead, she remained rooted to her spot, as if she were looking for a reason to linger.

Sebastian watched her curiously, his own brain searching for an excuse to keep her there. “Boy, Poppy’s quite the lightweight, isn’t she?” he finally said with a soft laugh.

“She sure is,” Emmeline giggled. “To be fair, she weighs about a fraction of the rest of us.”

“I didn’t realize she was so enamored by Prewett,” Sebastian continued. Emmeline shrugged.

“I suppose you learned quite a bit from crashing girls’ night, didn’t you?” she mused.

“Positively enlightened.”

“Anything you care to share with the class?”

Sebastian masked his hesitation with a smirk. Though he didn’t consider himself to be drunk, firewhiskey had never been his friend. He’d had a fair amount that evening and it was making it more difficult than ever to quell the tightness in chest that could only be traced back to Emmeline.

Seventh year would be over before they knew it and Sebastian feared their friendship would vanish too. Emmeline was set for a position within the Ministry of Magic’s Department of Mysteries, where she hoped to become an Unspeakable. Sebastian had a position laid out for him as a cursebreaker with Gringotts. He was excited for those possibilities but terrified adulthood would drive a wedge between him and the one person he couldn’t envision a life without.

“I didn’t realize you had such high demands for your romantic partners,” he finally teased.

Emmeline narrowed her eyes at him, her lips parting in shock. “I am not demanding!” she hissed. “You take that back!”

Sebastian sat back against the headboard of the bed with his arms crossed. “Point proven,” he said smugly.

A loud snore echoed through the cottage and Sebastian couldn’t help but bark a laugh. “Was that Poppy?”

“I think that one was Imelda,” Emmeline replied as another snore cut through the room. “It’s going to be a long night.”

“Here,” Sebastian said, scooting to one side of the bed. “Just sleep here. I’ll cast a silencing charm to take care of the snoring.”

Emmeline’s hesitation was clear as she stood, her feet frozen in place as Imelda’s earlier teasing came to mind. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to join Sebastian in bed – she had daydreamed of that particular scenario more than she’d ever admit – but it was the implication, the expectation, and most of all, the temptation of what it meant.

“Come on,” Sebastian said. “I don’t bite. Unless you’re into that sort of thing. Besides, it’s not really all that different from all the times you’ve slept on my shoulder while studying.”

But it was different, and Sebastian knew it. The two of them sharing a bed in his cottage, away from the confines of the Hogwarts castle and all its propriety, would absolutely be different – especially when he wasn’t sure how he could possibly keep his hands to himself when Emmeline was next to him looking like that .

“All right, fine,” Emmeline sighed, the spare quilts forgotten on the floor. She moved slowly toward the bed, sliding next to Sebastian who still had his wand lit.

“Silencio,” he said, the room falling dark and quiet. “There, that’s better.”

Emmeline nodded quietly as Sebastian tossed his wand back on the nightstand to settle in beneath the covers. She swallowed as she fought to maintain gentle and light breaths, her chest rising as her body betrayed her. She was certain Sebastian could hear her heartbeat hammering against her ribcage.

Next to her, Sebastian was having the same thoughts. He could smell her shampoo, light and floral, and if he moved any closer, his hand would brush the silkiness of her pajamas. He wondered how that fabric would compare to the softness of her skin, or dare he think it, the velvet feel of her…

“Sebastian?”

“Huh?” Sebastian was pulled from his sinful thoughts.

“I asked if you’re alright,” Emmeline said. “You seem to be breathing heavily.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Just making sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine. You know, other than the fact you’re hogging all the covers.”

“I am not!” Emmeline huffed. She shoved the blanket toward Sebastian who merely chuckled. “It’s not my fault it’s freezing in here,” she said.

“It’s nearly 21 degrees,” Sebastian pointed out. “It’s plenty warm.”

“Not for me.”

“Fine, come here.” Sebastian hooked an arm around Emmeline’s waist and pulled himself closer to her as he nestled against her back. He instantly melted into her, but could feel her shoulders shift as she tensed. “This okay?” he asked, worried he had crossed a line.

“Mmhm,” she answered sleepily. “That’s better. You’re nice and warm.”

Sebastian relaxed a little and could feel Emmeline’s body do the same, though she was hyper-aware of the way his hand rested gently against her waist.

“Emmeline?” Sebastian asked quietly.

“Hmm?”

“Anne’s right, you know.” His tone was soft yet serious enough that Emmeline couldn't help but lift her head slightly from the pillow to hear him better. “I overheard the two of you earlier. What she said about you being just as important to me as her and Ominis… she’s right.”

Emmeline held her breath as he spoke and carefully mulled over a response. This was precisely what she had meant earlier when she said she wanted a romantic partner who could share meaningful conversations with her. Sebastian could be impulsive, even reckless at times, but he wore his heart on his sleeve and didn’t shy from saying how he really felt, even if it made him vulnerable to her. She always liked that about him.

“Well,” Emmeline started after drawing a shaky breath. “Despite your obnoxious eavesdropping, I meant what I said, too. You did deserve a second chance. You’re a good person and I’ll never stop having your back.”

Sebastian nuzzled the back of her neck gently, a bold move that made Emmeline’s breath hitch. “I like having your back for a change,” he murmured. He knew he was potentially risking everything – their friendship and her trust, but years of longing and suppression had become too unbearable to endure any further for him. He had to know if he stood even the slightest chance at the rare privilege it would be to touch her.

“You sure you wouldn’t be more comfortable in a broom cupboard?” she quipped.

“Sounds like I’m not the only one who finds them rather cozy,” he murmured into her ear, his breath warm against her skin.

Emmeline knew him too well. She could sense the push in his voice, testing her to see how she’d react and how far she was willing to let him go. She decided that enough was enough – she had been drained by the past few years she’d spent practicing poise and self-control when it came to him, stifling all her impulses and redirecting her feelings to boys who would never measure up. If Sebastian was going to tempt her, she was going to ace his tests.

She whipped her body around so that she was facing him, startling Sebastian who tensed. She could feel it in the way he was subconsciously gripping her hip.

“Just curious,” she cooed softly. “Which broom cupboard is your favorite? Is it the one in the dungeons near the Slytherin Common Room? Seems like you might appreciate the convenience in location. I find that one a bit too snug to move around in, though. Perhaps you’re more of a fan of the cupboard in the North Hall, near the History of Magic classroom? That one’s nice and secluded, especially if you make a lot of noise.”

“Emmeline,” Sebastian warned.

“Personally, I think my favorite’s the little room in the Clock Tower Entrance,” Emmeline continued. “Ever been in that one? I showed that one to Amit after Crossed Wands once – we spent a good hour in there, but I don’t think he appreciated it as much as I did.”

Sebastian had to grit his teeth. He didn’t want to think about her doing those things with someone else, but the notion that she was willing and capable of them made him tense, particularly below the waist.

“So which is it?” Emmeline pressed. “Which is your favorite?”

“I like the one off the Reception Hall, near the kitchens,” Sebastian replied through clenched teeth. “Easy to get to and convenient if you work up an appetite.”

Emmeline’s eyes widened at his remark but her lips formed a seductive smirk. “Oh, I wasn’t aware of that one,” she purred innocently. “Perhaps someone will show me someday.”

“Perhaps.”

“Is it spacious? I don’t like when I have to stand the entire time.”

Sebastian sucked in a sharp breath. “Merlin, Emmeline. You’re killing me.”

“Whatever do you mean, Seb?” Emmeline asked, still feigning naivety.

“Stop making this so hard on me.”

Emmeline shifted, her hips pressing gently against Sebastian’s. “Oh, you weren’t kidding about the hard part.”

“I’m going to hex you.” Sebastian growled.

“Fine. Just wait until we’re done and make it worth my while.”

Sebastian was certain he had to be dreaming. Emmeline – his Emmeline, was practically throwing herself at him, daring him to take a chance. And Sebastian was a true Slytherin – ambitious, cunning and determined to get the things he wanted. He didn’t let chances escape his grasp.

He kissed her. He could feel the breath of air she sucked in through her nose when their lips met, her eyes fluttering shut as she returned it. Sebastian wasn’t sure what this would all mean come morning, but the hunger in her kisses made it clear that she wasn’t in the mood to worry about it.

Bed sheets rustled and hands grabbed at whatever skin was exposed. Hearts raced as both realized they were about to satiate their biggest fantasy. Sebastian’s hands roamed beneath Emmeline’s top, brushing over her stomach and down her sides until his fingers found the hem. He pulled away, his eyes heavy as he tugged the shirt upward. His lips found her neck, drawing a soft moan from her.

“Seems I’ve found a sensitive spot,” he murmured against her skin. He left a trail of kisses from her neck to her collarbone, ending between her breasts.

The darkness made it difficult for Emmeline to see much, but she could certainly feel. Sebastian’s hands were everywhere, yet it still wasn’t enough for her. As she rolled onto her back, Sebastian paused to kiss her again, sparking more impatience from her. She could feel the familiar swell of heat that only happened when she thought of Sebastian late at night, alone in her bed, her own fingers forced to mimic Sebastian’s.

Emmeline lifted her hips as Sebastian tugged her bottoms off, followed by her panties. She silently praised whatever higher power was responsible for Sebastian’s impatience too.

Sebastian’s fingers dragged between her thighs, over her slick entrance. The moment was fleeting and she whimpered a plea for more. Sebastian obliged her as his index and middle finger made contact with her core again. He rubbed her until her breath became a heavy pant and her hips rocked upward demanding more.

A loud moan carried through the room as Sebastian’s fingers disappeared inside her, the wetness immediately coating them. He curled a finger and Emmeline gasped, her submission making his cock stir.

“Fuck, Em. You’re so fucking perfect,” Sebastian whispered, his eyes roaming her body in the moonlight that poured through the window.

“And you’re… overdressed.”

Sebastian flashed a smirk and moved to remove his own remaining garments, kneeling over Emmeline once he was rid of them. Emmeline couldn’t help but stare at his form. He was fully erect, the length of his cock proudly anticipating her touch.

She wasn’t sure how she was going to take all of it, but she was damn sure she’d die trying.

A groan escaped Sebastian’s lips as Emmeline gently took him in her hand, gently tracing from the base to his tip. He twitched, his arousal unlike any he’d experienced.

“Emmeline,” he breathed as her mouth engulfed him. He could feel her tongue flatten against his shaft, slowly running over every vein and ridge with deliberation. “Emmeline,” he repeated, his eyes squeezed shut. The sight alone of her lips wrapped around him was enough to nudge him to the edge. “I don’t think I can take it.”

He hated that confession. As much as he loved this girl and would willingly follow any order she asked of him, his pride remained firm. He didn’t want her to think he was incapable of pleasing her, of lasting long enough to ensure she was good and finished. But this moment, this feeling, had consumed his free thoughts for so long, there was no way he could remain composed much longer.

Emmeline removed her mouth from him, her smirk indicating the satisfaction she felt from the power she clearly held over him.

“You may not be able to take it,” she said, eyeing his cock pointedly, “But I can.”

Sebastian decided she was going to be the death of him, but at least he’d die a happy man.

Emmeline straightened up to rest back on her heels, her eyes maintaining their challenging gaze. “What do you want me to do to you?” she asked, her voice husky with desire.

Sebastian chewed at the inside of his cheek. No girl had ever asked him that. It made his cock pulse. “I want you to do whatever’s going to make you moan my name,” he replied.

Emmeline couldn’t believe she was lucky enough to exist in the same world as Sebastian Sallow.

“On your back,” she ordered. Sebastian, who typically preferred to be the assertive and dominant party in such situations, obliged. He was too eager to please, and to discover that sweet, supreme moment when she’d cry out his name and show him how she looked when she experienced ultimate pleasure.

As she climbed over him, her legs straddling either side of his torso, his hands snapped instinctively to her hips. His fingers gripped her tightly, drawing a shaky laugh from her.

“Careful,” she mewed as she positioned herself above him. “Can’t have you leaving any marks.”

Before Sebastian could form a smart reply, her wet heat met the tip of his cock as she lined him up against her entrance.

“Fucking hell.” Sebastian exhaled slowly, his jaw and eyes clenched tight as he welcomed the feeling of her warmth stretching around him. She seemed to be moving at a glacial pace as she eased herself downward.

“God, Sebastian,” Emmeline breathed. She had to still herself for a moment, her open palms resting against his bare chest as she stretched to accommodate him. She rocked backward slightly to straighten upward, the tiny movement forcing Sebastian to swallow.

“I love you,” he blurted out. If it hadn’t been for the absolute ecstasy currently coursing through his cock, he would have Avada Kedavra’d himself on the spot. Leave it up to him to say something so utterly stupid during the most exciting moment of his life.

Emmeline paused, her eyes wide with disbelief as her gaze met Sebastian’s.

“Really?” she asked.

There was no going back now. “Of course,” Sebastian replied, annoyed at himself for provoking a life-altering conversation mid-sex. “Hasn’t exactly been a secret these past few years.”

“Oh.” Emmeline held her position, stunned at the revelation, though the feeling of Sebastian lingering inside her was difficult to ignore for long. “Well, I love you too,” she finally said. “But given how I covered up a murder for you, stuck by you for two years and threw myself at you tonight, that shouldn’t be a secret either.”

“...Oh. Well when you put it that way…”

“Yeah.”

“Guess I should have told you then, huh?”

“Would’ve saved us both a lot of trouble, it seems.”

“Sure would have.”

“Hey, Sebastian?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we have this conversation later? As thrilled as I am to hear you finally confess your love for me, I’m going to spontaneously combust if you don’t shut up and fuck me.”

“Oh. Right.”

They shared a quiet laugh, but Emmeline’s eyes quickly darkened as her thoughts returned to a sinful state, the feeling of Sebastian’s tip pressing against the soft flesh inside her.

She moved slowly at first, rocking her hips up and down to ensure she’d found the spot. The moan that fell from her lips confirmed it, and Sebastian’s grip remained rigid on the flesh of her hip bones as if it were steadying him.

In truth, he was desperately fighting his own body’s response to the euphoric feeling Emmeline was creating for him.

“Feels so good,” she panted as her pace quickened. Her eyes fluttered shut so she could focus on the sensations, which were building an inevitable wave of pleasure in her walls.

Sebastian could feel her wetness pooling at the base of his cock, her slick cunt gripping his shaft as she moved up and down. He wanted to move more, to show her how capable he was in the bedroom, but he was fearful he’d fuck himself into an embarrassing moment. He wanted to prove to her he was worthy of this privilege.

As Emmeline lifted herself upward again, Sebastian forced his own hips upward, evoking a surprised moan from her. He slammed himself inside her again, causing her to hover over him so that he could control their movements. He fucked her with determination, his cock railing against the spot that threatened to unravel her.

She could feel it building, sensed it ballooning in the form of a tiny twitch that would soon erupt into a full convulsion. “Don’t stop,” she begged through ragged breaths, her head tossed backward as the force of Sebastian’s thrusts made her breasts bounce.

“Sebastian, I’m going to-” She couldn’t complete the sentence as she heaved a cry, all of her weight settling down as she collapsed around Sebastian’s cock, her orgasm pulsating around him.

The sensation was new territory for Sebastian, her walls beckoning him with their quaking until a familiar throbbing coursed through his cock.

He released himself inside her with a grunt, the sensation prolonged as she continued to bounce on him to ensure they both were fucked to completion. When he had no more to spill, Emmeline stopped, her full weight still on top of him as she recovered.

“Bloody hell,” Sebastian breathed as the room returned to focus, the moonlight shifting from blurred lines to a sharp focus that shined a spotlight on Emmeline’s body still perched on top of him.

“All right?” Emmeline asked, her chest rising and falling as she panted.

“Never better.”

Emmeline managed to breathe a laugh before she climbed off of Sebastian, returning to her sleeping spot next to him.

Sebastian pulled her close so that he could appreciate the feeling of her sweaty skin, sticky yet warm.

“We should have girls’ night more often,” he mumbled happily.

In the living room beneath them, Anne pulled a blanket around herself, smiling as she drifted off to sleep.

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koenigami · 2 days ago

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soft kissing hour. tags : fluff, fem!reader, touchy togame, mentions of reader wearing make up wc : 950 - Less is more. Togame likes to live by that simple rule in more than only one way. Whether that be his clothing, his minimalistically decorated home, or his decision to exchange his long messy mullet with a plain short undercut a few years ago. As cheesy as it sounds, he just thinks that it is important to appreciate the mundane things in life.

His conviction is even further undermined once your silhouette appears in the doorway of his bedroom.

It is the first time that you’re actually spending the night at his, and to say that he’s more than elated is an understatement.

Being able to watch you pad around his room in his own clothes, hold you in the comfort of his bed, and having the honor to have you being the last thing he sees before falling asleep as well as the first thing when he wakes up the following morning. The simple thought of it makes him only now aware of the fact that his home has been missing something significant all this time. You.

That's why you're met with the most gentle smile once you walk over to the unoccupied side of the bed, clad in an old shirt of his and sweat shorts.

A light shiver runs through your body accompanied with goosebumps rising along your skin once you slip under cold sheets. Yet when Togame's arm reaches out and pulls you in by your waist, you can't hold back the little hum of contentment once you feel his warmth.

You always tell him that he's a walking furnace. Especially on days when he calls you a living icicle. When your freezing fingers meet his warm palms, or when you bury your cold nose in the crevice of his neck, soaking in his warmth and the woody scent of his that you've gotten so very addicted to.

"I don't think I've seen you like this before." He speaks lowly once you're nestled against him, your head resting on his upper arm.

"Like what?" You breathe out and wonder whether he can feel your heartbeat like this, chest to chest. His lips are so close, all you would have to do is lean in the slightest bit only to taste him, slot your mouth against his and forget the entire world around you.

His soft gaze travels across your face. Your eyes, your lips, your jaw, your nose, again your lips-

Your eyebrows perk up when he opens his mouth, obviously unsure about how to word his thoughts. There's a stuttering beat against your chest, and you have no clue whether it is yours or his. A second passes, then another, and when the suspense is getting almost unbearable, Togame only sighs. You both giggle in unison when he just curses while a rosey blush suddenly dusts over his cheeks.

"Jo! Come on, just say it already." The corners of your mouth are starting to hurt from the bright grin plastered on your face. Though it falls slowly when his palm cups your jaw, and he just silently looks at you.

Your heart swells at how tenderly his thumb swipes over the skin of your cheek. Togame Jo, a man so strong yet a man who knows that the blessing of such a strength comes with certain responsibilities.

His broad shoulders and back have always been an advantage when facing adversaries, allowing him to intimidate them easily. Now, he knows that those same shoulders are meant to carry any burdens that seem to weigh you down.

Big strong hands that have punched and broken so much, been covered in blood for way too many times. Now, he can use those same hands to gently hold your softer ones in his, glide them over the plush skin of your curves and feel your warmth.

"What are you doing?" You giggle quietly when his thumb slides higher up to the corner of your eyes, tracing the dark shades which are usually covered by a light sheen of concealer. He can easily move the pad of his finger over your eyebrows and down your nose bridge without you whining about how he's messing up your make up.

"You're just-" You follow his eyes which somehow seem to drift all over your face, as if he wants to take in all of you and burn every single detail into his memory. There's just something so satisfying about being able to see every single mark and blemish on your skin, and it's crazy how he has thought that you could not be any prettier. Yet here you are, taking his breath away and leaving his mind empty, and unable to come up with words to properly describe you. "Pretty. Very."

A beat of silence passes, while you blink at him.

"My boyfriend has such a way with words." Your voice is a pitch higher as you fan your face, containing your smile with a bite on your lip until you shriek when his teeth suddenly graze your jaw.

"Maybe my girlfriend should have dated a poet instead then." There's something darker in his voice as he looks at you through hooded eyes. As if even the single thought of you with someone else is able to kindle a fire inside him that could only ever be extinguished by you yourself.

No, Togame may not be your classical poet. However the way his body language speaks to you, reacts to you, how his fingers trace all kinds of shapes into your skin, how his eyes roam all over your body, pupils dilating and throwing shadows into the green forest in his eyes- It's probably more worth than simple words on a piece paper.

"Nah." You quip and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling yourself impossibly closer to him. The tip of your nose touches his. "I think I'm more than fine like this."

#togame jo #togame #wind breaker togame #togame x reader #wbk togame #togame jou #togame fluff #togame jo x reader #togame drabble #wind breaker x reader

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mydarlingclaudia · 2 days ago

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christmas party hop

note : SECRET SANTA FIC FOR @candlekiss !!! MERYY CHRISTMAS THIS IS EXTREMELY RUSHED BUT I WISH YOU THE MERRIEST CHRISTMAS I HOPE YOU GET EVERYTHING YOU WANTED!!!! the quality inst that good because I didn’t write this in like an hour im so so sorry erm

wc : 1.5k

tags : @withonly-sweetheart @leonsecretsanta

desc : roommates and mistletoe don’t mix well. roommates to lovers, fluff (??), no outbreak au, re4r!Leon, fem!reader, not proofread

It feels like you have to force Leon to do anything that involves socializing. He can manage the dishes and laundry by any other chores himself, but when it comes to having people over, he always shuts himself away in his room. You really shouldn’t care, it’s none of your business and not everyone likes having company over, but you can’t help but wish he’d come out for at least an hour or two and have some fun.

He's always been nice to you, civil, at least. He's appreciative of any dinner you cook for him or taking time out of your day to take care of him while he's sick, he does the same for you, if he's able. It's typical roommate behavior, you think. Maybe Leon's just more comfortable around you than others, though it could also be that it's your friends that come over more than his.

But he's never really had any of his friends or coworkers come over. You've met Chris and Jill a few times, same with Claire and Marvin, but you've never come home to see any of the four sitting on the couch talking with Leon. The times that you've met them you seemed to get along, they had mentioned Leon talking about you and that you seem as sweet as he says, so that's a good thing, right?

So you get the idea of throwing a Christmas party for yours and Leon’s friends, no big deal. It's not like it's a huge thing, just a few more people in your apartment than normal, you're doing this for Leon's sake, anyway.

Only Chris and Claire had shown up thirty minutes early to help set up (which they hadn’t really mentioned to you) along with Sherry, Jill brought Carlos and they both brought more than enough booze, Marvin’s arrival was fine, your own friends came in a little loud, but they brought pies so it was ok.

But now you’re jammed in the kitchen with Sherry whose trying to scoop cookie dough onto the cookie sheet, Claire whose pulling turkey out of the oven, Carlos whose coming back into the kitchen for more beer, and yourself who has been trying and failing to make eggnog. People are still running in and out of the kitchen, squeezing behind everyone cooking, yelling over the Christmas music that was playing.

“I put up mistletoe,”Claire nudges you as she walks past, carrying the pot full of stuffing. “Keep an eye out.”

“You decorated?” You turn to face her, licking some of the eggnog off your finger.

“Sherrys idea,”

“Pssh, sure.”

“Honest! Come on,” Claire laughs, “Is there a problem?”

“I’m not kissing you,” Claire rolls her eyes, setting the pot of stuffing down onto the table and starting to scoop it out into a big bowl. Two of your friends squeeze behind you to get first pickings of the food being set out, Chris and Jill follow after.

“You gotta kick Leon off the tv, the only thing he’s watching is that stupid Christmas baking show.” One of your friends giggles trying to get your attention as you help Sherry slide the cookie sheets into the oven.

“Yeah? What do you wanna watch?”

“Well, we were supposed to turn on Home Alone ten minutes ago…” She mumbled, already shoving turkey into her mouth. You flinch away from the heat of the oven and shake your hands as you pull away, standing upright.

”Alright, alright, I’ll talk to him.” You shove by Carlos and Sherry, through the doorway into the living room and walking towards Leon who is still hogging the remote. Leon can hear you walking towards him, he looks to you, his resting face changing into a smile.

“Got no holiday cheer?” You tease, sitting next to him on the couch.

“I’m filled to the brim with it,” He mutters rolling his eyes slightly.

“Oh my God, let’s just watch some Christmas movies. I spent hours in the kitchen for this, y’know.” You lean on his shoulder and pry the remote from his grip, he sighs.

“You’re so lucky I like you,”

“No shit, come on.” You grab his hand and pull him to stand up with you, dragging him towards the doorway and into the kitchen, getting plates for the both of you while the others continue to rush around the two of you.

You’re sure that if you and Leon had a driveway, Leon would find some reason to be outside shoveling, or if you had decorated outside, he’d find another reason to fiddle with the lights. He does come out of his shell a bit and chimes in to talk to Chris and Claire, he jokes with Sherry, pokes at Carlos and plays up being offended.

He’s not paying attention to the movie, but he taps his foot along to the Christmas music that’s still playing, he follows you around, though.

Leon normally does this if the two of you are ever out together, he trails after you, trying to hold k to your sleeve so he doesn’t lose you in a crowd. You know it’s not typical roommate behavior, but you find it cute, plus it’s not hurting anyone, right?

Even when you and Leon get knocked around by everyone else in your small apartment and end up bumping into each other, he holds your gaze and almost reaches out to grab you so you can stay for another moment and ignore the party.

There are kisses under the mistletoe— all between Carlos and Jill, though.

Leon and you do get held under the doorframe for a moment. It’s when Chris is talking to Sherry in the living room while she was trying to make her way into the kitchen and when one of your friends was trying to come into the living room, both you and Leon were standing and chatting.

Leon didn’t kiss you, unfortunately.

Claire didn’t take down her decorations when the party was over, everyone helped pick up the mess they made, but your apartment looked more holly-jolly than it did before the party.

You’ve already brushed your teeth and changed into your pajamas, Leon’s done the same, but he’s been looking up for the past few minutes.

“What’re you looking at?” You question, setting your cup of water down on the counter and stepping closer as he waves you over. You stand beneath the doorframe with him, looking up at the mistletoe hanging from it.

There’s a kiss pressed to your cheek within the next second, you look back to Leon to see the grin on his face.

“Just on the cheek?” You tease, crossing your arms.

“You want it on the lips?”

“Well, that’s the tradition, isn’t it?” You giggle, bringing your hand up and cupping his cheek, he pulls you in at the same time for the kiss you both expected, only he’s a bit more passionate than you.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil #resident evil x reader #leonsecretsanta2024

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writerwhowritesao3 · 3 days ago

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Mildly obsessed with the idea that angels (and nephilim) see more colors than humans do.

Jack doesn't realize that sometimes he sees things that Sam and Dean don't. It just never comes up.

But then one day, he and Sam are poking around one of the storage rooms in the bunker, and Sam discovers a big box of prisms in various shapes and sizes.

"Oh man, I used to love playing with these when I was a kid!" he says with a huge smile.

"Are they game pieces?" Jack asks, picking a pyramid-shaped one.

"They're called prisms," Sam says. "Come on, I'll show you."

Sam takes Jack up to the roof, the latter carefully carrying the box. On the way up, he explains about light refractions. Jack listens with rapt attention, as he always does whenever Sam teaches him things. He's pretty sure that Sam is the smartest human in the world. Or, at least, the smartest human that Jack has ever met.

When they get to the roof, Sam shows him how to angle the prisms just right so that a rainbow appears on the floor.

"It's like magic!" Jack exclaims.

"Nah, it's just science," Sam laughs.

Science was so freakin' cool.

They spend the next few minutes holding up multiple prisms, trying to get the perfect angles to combine the rainbows together into one big super-rainbow.

"Okay, I got these four to merge," Jack says, holding two prisms between the fingers of each hand.

"Almost." Sam nods. "I think if you maybe lift them higher, you can get the colors to touch."

"They are touching," Jack says. "See?"

Sam looks at the ground again. There's about an inch and a half of space between each rainbow.

"The color right next to the violet on this one is overlapping with the color next to the red on that one, and then also the color next to that color," Jack continues.

Sam moves his gaze from the ground to Jack. He tries to spot the kid's usual tells—the ones he has whenever he tries to pull a prank on him, Dean, or Cas.

"What are the names of those colors, by the way?" Jack asks, and then clarifies: "The English names. I only know them in Enochian."

Sam realizes that Jack isn't joking around.

"It's so weird. These colors are everywhere, but I've never been able to find crayons that match them," Jack continues.

"Um...I don't know, buddy," Sam says. He tries to keep his tone casual. "I bet Cas knows, though."

"Probably," Jack agrees. "Cas pretty much knows everything."

Sam chuckles and shoots a quick text to Dean:

something weird on roof. bring cas

Dean and Cas materialize on the roof a few seconds later. Castiel almost never flies in the bunker; he's learned that most humans find it unsettling and rude to suddenly appear before them, and he doesn't want to make his human family uncomfortable in their own home—and he wants to set a good example for Jack.

Cas looks worried. He wouldn't fly if he didn't think it was absolutely necessary. Sam feels mildly guilty for how he phrased his text.

"What's wrong?" Dean immediately asks, already scanning the roof for potential threats.

"Nothing's wrong," Sam says. "Can both of you come over here real quick?"

When they do, Sam points at the colors on the ground.

"Are these rainbows touching?" he asks.

"No," Dean says, at the same time that Cas says, "Yes."

"You and Dean can't see these colors?" Jack asks, bewildered.

"They can't," Cas answers. "Humans can only see a certain spectrum of color. Other species, like mantis shrimp, can see more. But still not as many as angelic beings."

"So you and Jack just see a bunch of crazy colors all the time?" Dean says. "That's trippy as hell."

"How are we just learning about this now?" Sam says.

"It's never come up," Cas shrugs. He goes over to Jack and picks a couple more prisms out of the box to inspect and angle in the sunlight.

They stay on the roof to watch the sunset. Sam and Dean ask Cas and Jack if they see any extra colors. They do.

Later that night, Jack tries to describe the colors that he and Cas can see. He's unsuccessful, but the effort is appreciated.

One of the ways Jack tries to describe the colors is in terms of taste, physical sensation, and sound. Which is how Sam and Dean learn that angels and nephilim experience varying degrees of synesthesia.

#jack kline #supernatural #castiel #castiel is jack's dad #supernatural headcanon #jack the nephilim #destiel #(like in the background)#sam winchester #dean winchester #supernatural drabble #sam winchester and jack kline

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twostepstyless · 1 day ago

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Elves Wanted

Main Masterlist

SFW

Author’s Note: Y/N and Harry are drama students from two separate drama schools just looking to make some extra money over the Christmas period. Colleagues to friends to lovers ig? No major warnings I don’t think, maybe a tiny little chat about Christmas being a hard time of year.

This is my first piece of writing in a looooong long time, so please be gentle

As always, likes, reblogs and feedback of any variety is encouraged and always appreciated - G x

Word Count: 7.7K+

It was the middle of November when Y/N saw it. The poster looked threatening. A large font, emboldened and in scary looking shade of red. The paper had gone a bit wrinkly as if it had been clutched tightly in a hand full of piles of the same advert printed over and over again. A contact email was printed multiple times along the bottom on tear-off tabs of paper, the fact that only one tab containing the address was missing added to the overall unappealing look of the advertisement that Y/N found on the ‘Opportunities’ board in the reception of her drama school. It looked threating compared to the opportunity it was offering.

ELVES WANTED was printed at the top of the sheet followed by a short, bulleted list of qualifications:

Must have an enthusiastic and friendly personality

No experience necessary

No maximum height limit!!!

Great pay for festive season!

DBS checks will be carried out.

Illustrations of holly leaves and berries bordered the A4 advert and severe looking underlines on the next steps asking for a headshot and CV to be forwarded to the recruiter’s email attached to the tear-off slips. A mall elf. Santa’s little helper. Y/N didn’t think it was the worst gig she could have in the world. Another thing to add to her CV she supposed. She realises she’s trying to convince herself into doing it and she was of the mindset if you had to convince yourself something is a good idea, it probably isn’t. But the Christmas holidays were looming and her student loan never in a million years could stretch towards Christmas presents and the zero hours contract she had a greasy spoon café down the road from her flat was certainly not helping either. She was desperate for consistent income to see her through Christmas. So, with a sigh, she ripped off the email information.

***

Across the city, Harry was stood in front of an advert on the ‘Opportunities’ board in the reception area of his drama school. Harry frowned, then leaned in closer to get a better look. He read the poster twice, then a third time, and despite his better judgment, he felt a strange pull. There was something ridiculous about it, something he couldn’t quite shake. The idea of becoming an elf at Santa’s Grotto in a shopping centre, a 6-foot (on a good day at least) elf at that, on the surface, was completely mental. But then again, he thought back to the acting gig he had over Christmas last year and thought anything would be better than that. Plus, he loved Christmas really, and getting to spread a bit of joy can only be a positive thing. He rubbed his temple as though to clear his thoughts, still staring at the flyer. ‘Great pay’, the poster said. That was tempting. What the hell? He could be an elf for a month. Maybe there was something strange and fun about playing a cheerful holiday character—something a little whimsical and different from his usual typecast as a tortured soul or brooding romantic lead. Harry's lips quirked into a smile. “I can totally do this,” he muttered to himself, snapping a photo of the requirements and ripping off the contact email and shoving it into his pocket.

***

Y/N trudged back to her flat after leaving uni, fell into her bed and fished out her laptop to send her email to the elf recruiter. She attached her most recent headshot and newly updated CV and sent it off to the email address she clung onto. As her laptop screen faded to black, she caught a glimpse of herself in the reflection of the screen. She didn’t look happy. She looked knackered actually, with heavy dark circles around her eyes. The past few months had been a lot. Exhausting, frustrating, and filled with self-doubt. She’d just finished a semester of intense Stanislavski system classes which were emotionally, physically and psychologically taxing when she was applying them to the acting pieces she was performing. She longed for a break, for something to remind her why she had fallen in love with performing and acting in the first place. Maybe this odd elf job would do that—maybe she could rediscover some joy in performing, even if it was just a month or so of prancing around in stripy tights and painted on rosy cheeks.

Y/N sighed and shook her head, but a small smile crept onto her lips. Why not? she thought again, maybe she could learn to appreciate Christmas again.

***

Winter had truly set in the next week when Y/N arrived at the shopping centre’s service entrance. The wind nipped at her face, the only bit of her not covered up by woolly or fleece fabric. Despite the cold, there was a gentle hum of festive energy beginning to spark. She had her phone open directing her to the disused unit nearest the newly built grotto which they had turned into a dressing room and break room for all the actors who were going to be working there over the holidays. She had to agree there would be something distinctly unmagical about a child seeing the elf that had shown them to Santa, or the big man himself, walking through the mall with a backpack over their costume to catch the tube home.

This was it—the first day of her “elf job,” as ridiculous as it seemed. She still wasn’t entirely sure what she’d gotten herself into. At least Noelle seemed nice enough as a manager when they’d spoken over zoom after Y/N applied. (Y/N still wasn’t sure if that was her actual name or that Noelle just loved Christmas that much, she’d given it to herself, she wouldn’t be shocked if it was the latter) And hey, it wasn’t like there was anything else on her schedule at the moment, classes having broken up for an extended Christmas break this week to allow the students to pick up winter acting gigs.

The smell of cinnamon and something distinctly chocolatey wafted through the air as she hurried through the shopping centre, the disused unit between the small Boots (the big boots was on the second floor) and Clarks shoe shop was her end goal with a note to show up at 8:30 to be assigned her costume, meet their Santa and the other elves and to be talked through what their role was and what do before the kids started arriving to meet Saint Nick at 10:30 A.M.

She was first there. Not a shock, she’s notoriously early to everything. Just Noelle in the space, ticking Y/N’s name off the list attached to her clipboard and urging her to pull up a chair until the rest of her colleagues arrived. Tubs of celebrations and heroes cracked open on the tables for the employees to pick at if they were on break.

Y/N quickly snagged a Malteser one from the red tub knowing those were her favourite but always the first to run out in a box of Celebrations. As she rammed the chocolate into her mouth a deep, slow voice called out.

“Hey! Are y’here for the elf job too?”

Y/N looked up. A boy—no, a man—was walking toward her, a friendly smile on his face. He was tall, like worthy of stating in your dating profile tall, with chocolatey, perfectly tousled hair like he’d just ran his fingers through it and it fell perfectly. His cheeks were also flushed from the cold, and there was an energy about him, an air of confidence that could potentially approach cockiness, but not in a dickhead way, a way that made Y/N feel suddenly self-conscious. She straightened up, trying to look more confident.

“Uh, yeah.” Fuck, she still had the half-chewed Malteser sweet in her mouth, she swallowed it harshly. “I am, yeah,” she said, his voice coming out a little awkwardly.

The man laughed lightly, as if sensing her discomfort, and stuck out his hand. “M’Harry. S’my first day, too. So, we’re in the same boat.”

Y/N hesitated for a second before shaking his hand. His grip was firm, and his-Harry’s eyes sparkled with a kind of warmth that she wasn’t used to.

“Harry,” she said. “Yeah, I figured I wasn’t the only one.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, glancing around. “Have y’seen the costumes?” he asked with a grin. “Noelle was pulling the rail out as I came in,” he nodded towards the rail now in Y/N’s peripheral, “and not that I’m biased towards the fact me n’you are here first… but I think we’re going to look the best.”

Y/N snorted, suddenly picturing the pair of them in the green and red get up she could see swinging around on hangers that Harry pointed out. “Yeah, right. I’m not sure there is a looking the best in those but I’ll try not to look too much like a walking, talking Christmas tree.”

Harry laughed again, his voice light and carefree. “You could be a very stylish Christmas tree. And if not, I’m sure the kiddies will love you anyway. I mean, it’s hard t’look serious in tha’.”

Y/N had to agree. She could see tiny bells on the tips of the curly toed shoes and around the base of the pointy hat that were jingling in an absurdly cheerful way as Noelle pulled the rail up towards the congregating elves, more of whom had arrived in the time she had been speaking to Harry not that she noticed them arrive.

“I’m guessing you’ve done this before?” she asked.

“Nope,” Harry replied with a shrug, his eyes crinkling with a smile. “But I’m an actor, so literally trained in fake it til I make it.” She glanced at him knowingly. “I’m sure you can, too.”

There was something about the way he said it, so effortlessly, as if being an actor was the most natural thing in the world. Y/N felt a pang of recognition. She was the same way, always pretending like she had her shit together when, in reality, she felt like she hanging by a thread the vast majority of the time.

“You’re an actor, too?” she asked, as Harry pulled a twirl out the box of heroes and snaffled it down just as quickly.

“Yeah,” he said round the mouthful of chocolate, “Where d’you go?”

“Oh, I’m at RADA,” she said with a sheepish smile, as though it were no big deal. “How about you?”

“The Conservatoire,” Harry replied in a similar tone. “It’s… kind of intense there. Everyone’s obsessed with Shakespeare n’like fuckin’ Laurence Olivier,” he chuckled. His voice tinged with self-deprecation. “Which is fine, and y’know same but sometimes it feels like m’in an endless cycle of waiting. Auditions, classes, workshops, more auditions…” He trailed off, realizing he was rambling. “Though suppose you’re the same at RADA,” He finished.

Y/N’s eyes softened a little. “I get that. Sometimes it feels like I’m auditioning for my own bloody life instead of actually living it, and the constant seriousness can really knock the wind out of it and make you forget why you started acting in the first place.” She leaned back against her chair, crossing her arms.

“At least this elf job is different. It’s kind of nice to do just… do something fun, you know?” Harry suggested.

Y/N nodded, a little surprised by the ease in which he found the bright side. There was a grounded quality to him that she hadn’t expected, especially when he said he attended the conservatoire. He didn’t seem to be caught up in the competitive, high-strung nature of their shared world, or if he did, he was doing a damn good job of hiding it. Maybe it was his willingness to embrace something as silly as playing an elf that made him stand out to her.

“Yeah, you’re right,” she said, letting out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. “I think I’m just overthinking it. Like, this is the first thing I’ve gotten in a minute that’s actually paying me, and I’m being weird about it. Plus, I’ve got the perfect excuse to wear a fun outfit for a month,” she giggled, hoping to match his blasé attitude.

Harry smiled back, a mischievous glint appearing in his eyes. “Exactly!”

Before their conversation could go any further, Noelle, decked out in an obscene Christmas jumper with glittery yarn and flashing lights stood at the front of the now full room.

“Hiya chookies! Welcome to your first day as Santa’s helpers!” she said brightly in her bubbly Welsh accent, clapping her hands together. “I’ve spoken to you all before but just to reintroduce I’m Noelle and I’ll be your manager for the duration of this job! You’ll be working alongside our Santa Claus, Arthur, bringing the magic to life for all the little ones we’ll have coming to visit right up until the 24th of December. You’ll mostly be working in pairs which I can split you up into- or I see most of you have split into little groups already so that will do just lovely too!”

At the mention of already being in pairs, Harry and Y/N’s eyes flickered up to each other’s with a small smile from Y/N and a wink from Harry that made Y/N’s stomach swoop as he mouthed ‘partner’ at her.

Noelle continued, “so we’ll get you costumed and your elf’s name assigned to you, then we’ve got a few little training things to get through before we kick off the festive season with our first visitors at 10:30!”

***

The rest of the morning was a blur of final costume adjustments, training videos about handling children, and learning the ropes of the “Santa meet-and-greet” routine. Introduce, smile, take the kid to Santa, reassure any nervous little ones, pass out candy canes til you’re blue in the face, and sprinkle as much magic and joy in there as possible as they went. As 10:30 approached, Harry found himself standing next to Y/N at the edge of Santa’s grotto ready for the first batch of children to arrive.

Through the noise of the shopping centre, chatter and the beep of checkouts and the rush of activity, Harry caught Y/N’s eye and offered her a dazzling smile. “Well Sugarplum,” he said, now referring to Y/N as her Elf name, as was required in their training, his voice low enough for only her to hear, “here we go. Let’s see if we can make some Christmas magic without completely embarrassing ourselves.”

Y/N laughed softly, knocking her hip against his playfully. “You’ll do great. Just remember to smile like you mean it and even if we’re pretending that it’s the most magical moment of your life.”

Harry rolled his eyes but found himself smiling anyway. “I’ll try my best. Elf-ing is harder than it looks I reckon.”

As the first family approached the line, Y/N leaned closer to him, her voice playful. “Ready to bring some joy to the world, Jingles?”

“After you, my jolly little elf,” Harry said with a smile, feeling something spark between them that he couldn’t quite name, their shoes jingling as they bounced forwards to greet their first family.

***

The first shift was chaotic.

Y/N had been bracing herself for the madness of it all, but nothing quite prepared her for the relentless pace of the Santa meet-and-greet. From the moment they arrived at the grotto and workshop themed area, complete with twinkling lights, piles of fake presents, an enormous, fluffy teddy bear in the corner and nutcrackers as tall as Harry, it was clear that the role of an elf was not as simple as it seemed.

The instructions from Noelle had been brief—"Smile, be enthusiastic, don't get in Santa's way, and make sure every child gets their gift!"—but in practice, it felt like a never-ending whirlwind. The line of eager little children accompanied by parents and carers lapped around the grotto and down the hallways of the mall and the air buzzed with the excited chatter of families, the high-pitched giggles of toddlers, and the occasional wail of a child whose feet hurt from waiting or was a little scared of the man with the round belly and red suit.

Y/N was feeling the initial confidence boost Harry gave her, waver. The green tunic was a tad itchy, the makeup to paint her cheeks rosy was 100% going to cause her a spotty breakout and the pointy shoes, which she’d thought would be a fun novelty, now felt like they were cutting off the circulation to her toes. She was supposed to be cheerful and welcoming, but every time she smiled, it felt a little forced. And then there was the jingle. The tiny bells attached to the hem of her outfit, hat and tips of her curly shoes made every step a clinking reminder that she was no longer the serious actor she aspired to be. No, now she was an elf, and that meant every footstep seemed to ring with the joyful spirit of Christmas.

"Alright, Sugarplum!" Harry’s voice cut through the noise as he slid into place next to her. "You’re doing great! Just keep smiling!" His eyes twinkled with mischief, and Y/N couldn’t help but return his grin, even if it was more of a grimace.

“I’m not sure I’m pulling off the ‘joyful, Christmas spirit’ look,” she muttered, glancing at Harry. “I think the kids can tell I'm not really feeling it.”

“Oh, please,” he teased, adjusting his own costume, he had managed to twist one of the legs of his red tights around his leg as he peeled them up when he got changed and seemed completely unbothered by it. “You look like you just stepped off of an elf runway. Like we are North Pole Fashion Week right here. Autumn/Winter 2024’s finest!”

He was, in fact, a burst of holiday cheer. His costume fit well, minus the small problem with his tights. His movements were smooth and confident, and he had this way of leaning into his role that made it seem effortless. Every time a child came up to him, he greeted them with enthusiasm, making silly faces to the young ones who couldn’t talk yet, or twirling around to make them squeal and giggle.

Y/N, on the other hand, had already almost fell onto the nutcracker when a child approached her from behind.

***

"Hey, Elves!" a little girl said in a high-pitched voice, her arms crossed in front of her chest. She was maybe seven years old, with a haughty expression on her face that both Harry and Y/N couldn’t help but find hilarious. "I want a unicorn for Christmas."

“Uh, okay, a unicorn,” Y/N repeated, trying to channel the enthusiasm Noelle had instructed them to have. “Is that, like, a stuffed unicorn or an actual unicorn?”

The little girl stared at her blankly. “A real one. With wings.” As if that was obvious, Y/N thought.

Y/N blinked. “Oh… right. Well, I think we’ll need to ask Santa if he can make that happen. Santa has magical powers, you know, isn’t that right Jingles?” she gestured to Harry, desperately wanting to involve him in this conversation to get it over with quicker.

“That’s absolutely right Sugarplum, but I’m not sure the unicorn’s gonna make it through customs...” Harry trailed off

The girl raised an eyebrow. “I don’t care about that. I want a unicorn. With wings.”

“Understood.” Harry nodded seriously. “I’ll put in the request to Santa’s workshop immediately.” Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at Harry so turned away to get her giggles out as she organised the piles of gifts for the kids as the little girl continued on.

She gave a dramatic sniff before turning to her adult and questioning, “mummy why does that elf have all those on him?”

“All what, princess?” The little girl’s mother barely took her eyes off her phone while responding to her.

“All those drawings,” she pointed her sticky looking hand to Harry while her mother finally looked up and over with distaste to see Harry’s lower arm exposed from where the fluffy cuffs on his tunic had ridden up, exposing the inky swirls that littered his arm.

“I got these in prison,” Harry said to the child, seriously.

“HARRY,” Y/N shouts whipping her head round from the reorganised piles of presents and a series of giggles.

“Um, its Jingles to you, Miss Sugarplum,” he responded to Y/N with a sly look in his eye before turning back to the little girl, “I broke a lot of elf and safety rules,” he nodded with a sad sort of soft smile as the girl and her mother moved farther up the queue and away from Harry and Y’N’s section.

“You’re going to get sacked,” Y/N laughed.

“Nah, no chance, I don’t reckon there’s any understudies for elves, I’m just trying to brighten the place up, they say Christmas cheer is spread through laughter,” Harry said reaching for one of the candy canes they had in a bowl to give out to customers.

“No one says that” Y/N responded.

“Wel, I did just then,” Harry smirked before shoving his newly unwrapped candy cane between his lips.

***

Y/N found herself laughing more, letting go of the relentless pressure she usually placed on herself. She still had moments of doubt, but they were becoming less frequent. And more often than not, Harry was there, laughing with her, encouraging her to embrace the more sparkly, joyful side of things.

By the end of the week, both Harry and Y/N were beginning to look forward to their shifts—not just for the pay check, but because of the time spent with each other. Their friendship was growing, deepening in those small moments of shared joy. They spent their breaks together, sharing their lunches and swapping stories about their schools, about their aspirations, about everything and nothing.

“I jus’ couldn’t face doing panto again this Christmas for some work experience, last year I ended up in a production of Cinderella at holiday park in the arse end of nowhere and let me just tell you never again,” Harry said round mouthfuls of the Subway sandwich he’d ran to go pick them up on their joint lunch break.

“You didn’t?!” Y/N gasped dramatically, putting her own sandwich down.

“I did.”

“Oh no you didn’t,” Y/N refuted.

“What y’on about? I did, I played Buttons.”

“Oh no you didn’t!” Y/N teased.

“Oh no you didn- OH ha ha, very funny,” Harry rolled his eyes playfully. “But yeah I had to stay in a static caravan for the length of the run, and not one of those nice, posh static caravans with the deck and did y’know some of them have actual baths in ‘em too? It was a shit one, that smelt of damp and sand from the beach and had a scorch mark on the carpet from the fan radiator someone had put on upside down, the thing probably would’ve looked better if it had gone up in flames.”

***

It was the week before Christmas, when the shopping centre was at its peak. Crowds of shoppers were everywhere. Pushing, jostling, and frantically checking their lists. Santa’s grotto had gotten busier and busier and December went on, and Harry and Y/N were in the thick of it, dodging around children, parents, and cameras, keeping up the relentless pace of their elf duties.

They were stationed in the photo line, dishing out candy canes left, right and centre to anyone who didn’t already have one clutched in their hands. The music overhead had transitioned from classic carols to the more upbeat, catchy tunes—"Jingle Bell Rock," "Last Christmas," and, of course what’s Christmas without a little bit of Mariah.

“Honestly, feels like Christmas exploded all over this place,” Harry muttered to Y/N as a child skipped past them, jingling her own set of bells in her hair. He adjusted his own costume and shot a glance around at the sea of red and green. “I love Christmas but even I’m starting to feel a little less Santa n’a little more Scrooge.”

Y/N’s grin was infectious. “I know, right? But I think I’m starting to really love it rather than seeing this as a quick, easy wage every week. It feels like a big Christmas party every day and really is starting to put me in the mood for the 25th.”

Harry snorted. “You’re a better elf than I’ll ever be then. I’m about two seconds from snapping the candy canes and calling it a day.”

Y/N chuckled, her eyes glinting mischievously. “You could do that. But you’d be the elf who shows up on the ‘Naughty List,’ and frankly, I don’t think you want that reputation,” Y/N shrugged playfully.

“Well, there’s always next year,” Harry replied with a wink.

As the hours passed, the atmosphere only intensified. The mall was bursting with excited chatter, laughter, and the occasional tantrum from an upset child. Harry was starting to feel the weight of it all—the constant smiling, the relentless energy. He glanced over at Y/N, who seemed unaffected by it all. She was laughing, her face flushed from the warmth of the crowd, her energy infectious, but Harry couldn’t shake the feeling that she was hiding something—something more than the seemingly newly discovered holiday cheer that seemed to shine out of her pores like the lights round the Christmas trees. There was a depth to her that he couldn’t quite place. A vulnerability that was hidden beneath her new, bright exterior. He had seen it before, right at the start of their run—brief moments when her eyes grew a little distant or when she would zone out during a particularly quiet lull. She seemed melancholic a lot of the time at the beginning but the closer they got to Christmas her personality seemed to do a switch to the most utterly joyful person you could ever come across. Harry didn’t buy it, not completely anyway.

After another round of photos, a break finally arrived. It wasn’t much—only fifteen minutes—but it was enough for them to run off to their break room to rest their jingled feet. Harry slumped down in his seat, taking a long, deep breath of the slightly cooler air of their break room. He caught sight of Y/N across the room, filling up a glass of water each for them from the cooler.

"Hey," Harry said, his voice a bit quieter now. “Y’alright?”

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes wide and a little startled by the question. She blinked a couple of times, as if trying to shake off some thought she’d been lost in.

“Yeah, of course,” she replied quickly, offering a bright smile. “I’m just… y’know. Trying t’make the most of the break.” She gestured vaguely around; the room was empty bar the pair of them.

“Right,” Harry said, but there was something in her tone that didn’t quite match the smile she was giving him. He knew her well enough by now to see that something was off. It was slight, subtle even, but it was there.

He took a deep breath, feeling that the awkwardness of the moment would pass if he just said it. “Look, Y/N... I don’t want to make you uncomfortable n’just tell me t’fuck off if I’m overstepping or anything… but I feel like there’s more going on with you than you’re letting on.”

She froze for a moment before placing the now full glass of water in front of Harry. Her eyes shifted to the floor, her expression briefly faltering before she met his gaze again.

“You’re talking about the personality transplant I’ve had in the last few days, aren’t you?” she asked with a small laugh, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Harry shook his head. “No. I mean… yes. But not just that.” He pulled the chair next to him round to an angle so they would be basically facing each other eye to eye as he encouraged her to take a seat. Lowering his voice slightly. “I know m’not the best at reading people, but I can tell y’hiding something. You’re not as… I don’t know… there’s something not quite right about the smile you’re painting on, right?”

Y/N’s smile faltered, and she glanced away. ��I’m fine, Harry. I promise.”

But Harry didn’t buy it. He didn’t know what it was, but there was something in her voice, a tone as if she was trying to convince herself of the fact and not just him, that made him feel that she wasn’t fine.

“Y/N, m’not trying to make you talk about anything you’re not ready to share,” Harry said gently. “But… you can’t just bury everything under the elf costume and the smiles. It’s okay to not be okay sometimes,” he said with a soft smile as he nudged his knee against her own.

The room was silent. Y/N chewed on her bottom lip, clearly battling with something. Harry held his breath, waiting. Finally, she sighed deeply, as if the weight of it all had become too much to carry any longer.

“I didn’t want to bring it up, s’a bit of a mood killer at this time of year,” she said quietly, her voice thick with something Harry couldn’t quite place. “But... I guess I’m just tired. Not physically—well, kind of. But emotionally. I don’t know… I’ve been pretending a lot this year.”

Harry watched her, his brow furrowing. "Pretending?"

Y/N let out a shaky breath and nodded. “My family... my dad... this time of year is always hard for me. Christmas is supposed to be happy, right? But it just... reminds me of everything I’ve lost. Things that don’t work out. People who move on.” She paused, her voice trembling just slightly. “I didn’t want to let it affect my job here. I didn’t want to ruin the fun, or the magic… and I guess it’s been a lot.”

Harry felt a pang of sympathy for her. The words hung in the air like fragile glass, and he could see how much it had cost her to admit it. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say, he just nodded, understanding. “I get it,” he said eventually. “Y’don’t have to keep pretending, though. Not round me anyway.”

She gave him a small, relieved smile, but there was still sadness behind her eyes. “Thanks, Harry,” she whispered, almost as if she were speaking to herself. “I think I just needed someone to hear it. Even if it’s just for a second. I’m just… knackered,” she sighed.

Harry leant closer, offering gentle smile his hand reaching down to squeeze her knee. “Anytime. You know that.”

For the last few moments of their break, they just sat there, sipping on their water and cooling down for a bit, the noise of the shopping centre drifting in from the distance. Harry didn’t push her to say more, but they both knew something had shifted between them in that moment. Y/N wasn’t just his elf colleague anymore. She was a person with a past, with scars, with feelings. And Harry wanted to be there for her, even if it meant just offering an ear if she needed it.

And maybe she just needed to know that someone was there to listen, even someone she met working at Santa’s Grotto.

The break ended with the sound of a loud cheer coming from the main concourse of the shopping centre, where a new group of children had gathered to see Santa. Y/N downed the rest of her water and gave her cheeks a few quick pats to wake herself up, as if the moment of vulnerability had never happened, and smiled at Harry.

“Ready for round two?” she asked, her voice lighter than before.

Harry nodded. “Let’s do this Sugarplum.” And for the first time in a long while, Harry realized that sometimes, just being real with someone else was the greatest gift of all.

***

The day before Christmas was a blur of lights, music, and the constant hum of holiday energy. For such a manic day, it was a slow one. Harry had stopped counting the hours long ago of his shifts long ago; it was just a matter of getting through the day, but with Y/N by his side, it felt bearable. Their friendship had become a steady constant, something Harry looked forward to in the midst of the holiday madness. They spent their breaks together, talked about everything and nothing, and found little ways to make each other laugh.

But today felt different. There was a quiet tension in the air between them, an unspoken awareness that lingered longer than usual. It was approaching midday on Christmas Eve, the final shift before the big day. The mall was packed, the halls full of families rushing to get those last-minute photos with Santa, children buzzing with excitement. Harry and Y/N had just finished their break and were back on as Jingles and Sugarplum, standing in front of the grotto. They had gotten good at this—good at smiling until their cheeks hurt, good at posing for photos, good at handing out candy canes like it was second nature. But today, something felt… off. Something wasn’t quite as simple as it had been before.

“Last day,” Y/N said, adjusting her costume, the bells twinkling and punctuating her sentence, her tone almost too casual as she looked around at the busy area. “Can y’believe it’s finally Christmas Eve?”

Harry shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “It kind of feels like we’ve been doing this forever, doesn’t it? Like, time doesn’t even work anymore.”

“Yeah,” she said softly, her eyes scanning the crowd. Then, turning back to Harry, her gaze lingered a moment too long. “You know, I’ve actually really enjoyed this. Not the work, obviously, but… the time we’ve spent together. It’s been…” She hesitated, glancing down at her costume before meeting his eyes again. “Nice. A break from my usual, I guess.”

Harry’s heart skipped a beat. She didn’t say it directly, but there was something in her voice that made him wonder if she felt the same way he did.

“I get that,” he said, his voice a little quieter than before. “It’s kind of hard to explain, but I feel like we’ve gotten into this rhythm. You know what I mean?”

She smiled, that familiar, easy smile that made him feel like he was the only one in the room. “Exactly. We’ve somehow survived this madness, and now it’s almost over.”

As they stood there, exchanging glances with the busy families waiting in line, Harry couldn’t help but feel a sense of… finality. He had been dreading the end of this gig, not because he didn’t want to go back to the conservatoire and his classes after break but because he didn’t want to not see Y/N every day. The idea of her becoming just another friendly face in the crowd of his life was akin to one of Shakespeare’s tragedies to him, he didn’t want that at all.

“You’re right,” he said slowly, “I don’t want it to be over. This... thing we’ve got going on, I mean.”

Y/N paused, her eyebrows furrowing in slight confusion. “What do you mean, ‘this thing’?”

Fuck, Harry thought as looked down at his hands, suddenly feeling self-conscious, a rarity for him. Maybe he was reading too much into it. Maybe he was just imagining that there was something between them. But the way her voice softened when she spoke to him, the way they laughed together, the way he felt this inexplicable pull towards her.

“This thing where it’s easy to talk t’you. Where we don’t have to pretend with each other,” he said carefully, his heart pounding a little harder in his chest. “Where… I don’t know… I feel like I can be myself at least.”

She blinked, processing his words. Her expression was unreadable for a moment, but then her lips curled into a slow, thoughtful smile. “I know what you mean,” she said softly. “It’s like… we don’t have to be perfect all the time, right? Like, we can just… be. Together.”

The way she said the word “together” sent a small shiver down Harry’s spine. He could feel the air between them shift, and suddenly, he wasn’t sure if it was just the holiday magic, or something more. Something deeper.

He took a deep breath, stepping a little closer to her. “Y/N, I—”

Before he could finish his sentence, a loud wail from a child pierced the air, cutting through the moment like a knife. The child, no older than six, was tugging at her mother’s sleeve, refusing to get anywhere near the front door of the grotto where on the other side she’d meet Santa. Her voice was a screech of fear almost, desperate to leave.

Harry and Y/N immediately snapped back into their roles, the brief, intimate moment forgotten in an instant. It was as though the world had snapped back into its chaotic rhythm. Harry plastered on his best elf smile and turned to the mother, ready to jump back into character.

“Everything okay here?” he asked, though his mind was still racing with the things he had almost said to Y/N.

Y/N, ever the professional, was immediately by Harry’s side, kneeling down to the little girls height. “Hey there sweetness, I’m Sugarplum and this is my pal Jingles,” she said in a gentle, soothing voice nodding to Harry who waved at the shy little girl. “Y’know, Santa’s not so bad. Look, we’re elves and have worked with the big man for forever, and we think he’s pretty cool, isn’t that right Jingles?”

The little girl sniffed, wiping her nose on her sleeve of her little red coat, before glancing up at Y/N and Harry with watery eyes. “Really?”

“Absolutely!” Harry said with a wink, before he too knelt down to the girls’ level, his voice bright and reassuring. “Santa’s just a big teddy bear. In fact he gave me this,” Harry pulled a candy cane from his pocket with a flourish, “t’give to you before we go in and see him!”

The girl seemed to hesitate for a moment, before nodding slowly reaching out to wrap her fingers around the candy cane Harry held out to her, “Okay…”

As the little girl settled, Harry couldn’t help but glance over at Y/N. She had a way with the kids who were a little scared or nervous, a warmth that made him admire her even more. She always knew exactly what to say, always had the right level of energy to make them feel better. It was something he’d noticed before, but today, it felt like a piece of the larger picture. When the little girl finally took a seat on the stool next to Santa’s chair and was yapping away listing off things she wanted for Christmas as well as things she thinks he should give her baby brother, Harry and Y/N exchanged a smile at a job well done.

As the rest of the day wore on, the mall’s energy peaked and then began to mellow. The final families arrived, children almost vibrating with excitement at Santa’s imminent arrival, parents frantically snapping photos. In the quiet moments between families, Harry found himself stealing glances at Y/N. She was still the same—cheerful, warm, effortlessly glowing—but there was a new layer between them now, an unspoken understanding.

Finally, as the evening came to a close, the last group of families having exited with their pictures in hand. Santa waving a big goodbye to any straggler groups citing that he had a long night ahead of him and had to go see Mrs Claus before he set off on his journey around the world. Harry and Y/N were left alone in the grotto, it was just the two of them now, standing in the glow of the Christmas lights, the last traces of holiday music playing softly in the background.

Y/N turned to Harry, her eyes locking with his. “I guess this is it,” she said softly, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

“Yeah,” Harry replied, his heart beating just a little faster. “It’s weird. I kind of thought it would feel like a relief when it was over, but… now it’s here, it feels… wrong, somehow.”

Y/N smiled softly, stepping a little closer to him. “It’s not over, Harry. It’s just… different now.”

He swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. “I hope so.”

And then, as if drawn by an invisible force, they both leaned in, just inches apart. The air between them was charged, the magic of Christmas, the long month and a half of working side by side, and the undeniable pull they felt toward each other all converging in that one perfect instant.

Before Harry could think too much about it, Y/N closed the small gap, her lips meeting his in a kiss that was soft, tentative, but filled with something deeper—something neither of them could deny any longer.

The moment held, timeless and sweet, as they finally gave in to the feelings that had been building between them, and as they pulled back, breathing in the shared warmth of the kiss, it was clear to both of them: this was only the beginning.

“D’you think we can go get changed now? I never want to see or feel another pair of fucking tights anywhere near my legs for a long, long time,” Harry said as Y/N burst into fitful giggles her face slumping against his shoulder as she laughed

***

They had swapped numbers early on in their job, Harry’s suggestion since they were paired together in case one of the two were to be poorly or running late but had never used those numbers. As much as Harry’s fingers twitched to do so.

They separated outside the mall after their kiss, both rushing off to get to their families to spend Christmas Day with them. Christmas morning came with a quiet calm. Y/N had expected to wake up feeling exhausted, her muscles sore from the constant running around, the endless hours of standing in character, smiling for the camera, but instead, she woke up in her bedroom at her Mum’s house… on edge. Like something had shifted, and now the world around her seemed to have rearranged itself, in ways she wasn’t quite sure she was ready for.

She also woke up to a text and her heart took off running.

Harry 🧝‍♂️ 🎄 : Merry Christmas Sugarplum!! Hope your day is as magic as you are xx

Fucking hell, he sent kisses, KISSES… Should she send kisses back, never mind the kisses she needs to type the actual text first.

Y/N: and a merry christmas to you jingles. have a lovely day with your family Harry xx

He sent two kisses so she sent two kisses, that seemed a safe bet.

Harry 🧝‍♂️ 🎄: When are you back in the city? Xxx

THREE KISSES!

Y/N: i’m back on the 28th, you? :) xxx

Harry 🧝‍♂️ 🎄: Crazy, me too! I’m going to hope you don’t have New Years plans yet and wanted to ask if you wanted to do something with me? Ring in the new year together? Xxx

A second text came in before Y/N even managed to process what the first one had said.

Harry 🧝‍♂️ 🎄: Plus I’m not going to lie, going from seeing you and spending all day every day with you to not seeing you at all today is shit and I’ve decided I hate it xxx

Y/N: yes!!! let’s do it, i didn’t have any plans anyway so absolutely want to spend it with you xxx

Y/N: p.s i hate it too :( xxx

***

They had met outside the tube station, a warm embrace on the pavement as a greeting as they began their walk to find a spot on Primrose Hill for the night, filling each other in on what they had been up to on Christmas Day and the days since. They had both booked a few auditions for the first few weeks of January and Y/N had decided she was changing her life in the New Year and had done a massive clear out and deep clean of her flat. And Harry? Well, he’d came home from his Mum’s with a pet cat in tow, one his Mum had recently been fostering and Harry fell in love within the space of a few hours. He’d called her Jingles.

They found a spot on Primrose Hill, both of them unpacking the bags they had brought with them. A picnic blanket each they layered on top of each other to shield their bums from the cold ground. A flask of soup and a flask of tea to keep them warm as well as some snacks and tinned cocktails to see them through the night to the bells. Harry also had a half-sized bottle of champagne tucked in his bag for them to pop at midnight.

They spent their evening wrapped up in each other in their own little bubble getting to know one another more than they already did and as Midnight came and fireworks began to pop and sizzle in the sky and people around them waved glittering sparklers around and the nearest church bells rang signifying a new hour and a new year Harry kissed Y/N again, this time with more certainty, feeling the warmth of his embrace, the joy of being with someone who understood her completely. For the first time, in what felt like forever, Y/N realized she didn’t need anything else.

They had everything right here and they thought that was pretty magical.

#harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry imagines #harry imagine #one direction fanfiction

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yuurei20 · 2 days ago

Note

Hi YuuRei. How are you? This may be a rather big request, so there is no rush to answer right away, but do you know how may of Yuu’s answer options warrants different responses from the students/characters and which answer choices that happens with? Please, take your time since this would take some combing through in game. Thank you so much, I really appreciate it.

Hello hello! Thank you for this question! 🦐 It is done!

And thank you 1000 times to @hanafubukki and @irafuwas, without whom this series not have have been possible m(_ _)m

Prefect Dialogue Options in Twisted Wonderland: Prologue (pt1)

(note: these are not every single option that the player is given, only the options that result in different reactions! For other options reactions are the same regardless of what the player selects)

Option 1: A talking…weasel?! Grim: How… How DARE YOU! I am no WEASEL! I'm Grim, sorcerer extraordinaire! Tch. Whatever. You…human! Just gimme your uniform, and be quick about it!

Option 2: F-floating coffins?! Grim: Oh-ho! You got a lotta nerve ignoring me, human! The name's Grim. Believe me, you won't forget it! Now gimme your uniform, and be quick about it!

Option 1: S-somebody help! Grim: Hey, come on! I'm on a tight schedule here!

Option 2: Getting roasted alive by a weasel? What will I dream of next? Grim: Well keep dreamin', 'cause I ain't no weasel!

Option 1: So those coffins are like... gateways? Crowley: The design is intended to symbolize a parting with your former world, and a rebirth into a new one.

Option 2: I think something blew the lid off mine... Crowley: The culprit appears to be that familiar of yours. You're the one who insisted on bringing it, so curtailing its behavior is your responsibility!

Option 1: Why are you so determined to go to this school? n/a

Option 2: Guards! Guaaaaards! Grim: Hey! No! Bad human! BAD HUMAN! Ain't you gonna ask what I'm doin' here? That's what you people do, right? Talk about feelings and stuff?

Option 1: Would it be possible for Grim to stay with me? Grim: Whoa, did you just...?

Option 2: Grim would really like to go to this school. n/a

Option 1: I slept great! Crowley: I am delighted to hear that you've adjusted so well, despite being sent to another world!

Option 2: I didn't sleep well either! Crowley: Well, it's understandable you'd be anxious after being pulled into such an unfamiliar place. But the world can be cruel sometimes. So suck it up and move on!

#twstask #twisted wonderland #twstprefect

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libbytwq · 3 days ago

Text

merry christmas!!! (2024)

So, it's Christmas. Normally I never make this type of Christmas special, normally because every year I usually have no one in specific online to be grateful for, aside from my followers. But these past 5 months, my life has truly changed, and i finally have people I want to wish a genuine Merry Christmas to. So here is a gift for those wonderful people.

And thats not all, I'm not just gonna make a cute lil gift and not explain why I love these people!

APPRECIATION GO! 💥

SMG8 // @strange0-0storm -- STORM!! I know we rarely interact, but everytime we do, it's an absolute treat. I love seeing your art, the stuff you make is so awesome and fun to look at, and talking about goofy shit is so much fun. I look up to you a lot and I want to interact with you a lot more. SMG8 was one of the first ever SMG4 OCs I've ever gotten myself familiar with, he's such a silly man and I want to punt him, I love your stuff sm, stay cool 💥

Mango // @its-a-me-mango -- MANGO!! I've always been a massive fan of your art since I was first getting myself familiar with the SMG4 Tumblr community, because of your artstyle and the goofy jokes and silly stuff, but since joining the TSB discord server and interacting with you, I think you are even cooler. Our interactions are so incredibly goofy and I love every single time you appear on VCs. Our sense of humor almost feels like it clicks and everytime we make jokes I be cackling, to the point I sometimes get distracted from what I'm working on... but hey its okay because we're all silly here :3 i love your stuff sm man and i think ur an absolute vibe keep doing that forever and ever

N4 // @bluesbox -- BLUE!! It is so much fun interacting with you about theories and stuff!! And hearing you yap abt N4 lore is so fun and cool.... im INVESTED....... Yappin with you about goofy lil theory stuff is an absolute treat and i love interacting with you sm guh h,, we are the SCHEMERS......

TSB // @tiredsmashbros -- TOMM!! you...... YOU..... I WOULDNT BE FRIENDS WITH ANY OF THESE PEOPLE IF YOU DIDNT EXIST.... i look up to you like crazy and the fact that i can call you a friend is still batshit insane to me....interacting with you and joining your server has in fact changed my life for the better and i am not the same person i was before your 1k birthday party.... you are a huge inspiration to me and your lore is impeccable bUT DUDE I WANT ANSWERS, the TSB lore has me invested and i wanna know whats goin on im gonna..... GSHDJFNF IM GONNA GETTT Y /silly /pos dude your are so crazy awesome i love vibin with you n being silly all the time. qwah puh 💥

Neo // @neo91502 -- NEO!! You were one of the first people i bonded with in the server, and for that i think you are incredibly awesome, i love your art and everything you draw they always look so super cool and awesome and wa h,, i love your stuff sm but man you gotta handle your addiction to tsmg4 and long haired smg4 its gonna be a problem if you cant get it under control /silly YOU ARE SO AWESOME AND FUN I LOVE YAPPING WITH YOU RAAAGH

Hexsy // @nxva-blogz -- NXVA!! sigh..... i GUESS i have to include you.... for the sake of the hexore...... /j /silly you are so crazy and interacting with you is sm fun ill be completely honest. The hexsy lore is so so neat and i love your art sm guh,, I love vibing with you and being silly you are such a goofy ahh individual and you bring a lot of joy hehehehe explodes y

And now, there were a few other people I really wanted to fit on the couch, but couldn't because I burnt tf out. So heres me showing appreciation to those people too!

@knightedmares -- MY TWIN!! KNIGHTMARE KNIGHTMARE KNIGHTMARE!! We have so much in common and we just be vibin everytime you show up. I love your oc Trick sm and i love vibing with you guh

@rmgkyle -- KYLE!!! you feed me everyday and i appreciate it very very much. You are so incredibly goofy and i love RMG from the bottom of my heart and you are so insane but i love that WEE

@mikchi8 -- mikchi you are a menace to the server and i am very scared of you,, but thats ok cuz you are very silly and i love vibin with you /pos

@kittykibbl -- Kitty i LOVE your various AUs a ton and you were one of the first people i interacted with online, from one of the first WOTWs, and i still love your stuff a ton and interacting with you is a lot of fun yippe

Merry Christmas everybody!!

- Lore, libbytwq

#my art #clip studio paint pro #digital art #smg4 #original character #my ocs #smgl:e #smgloren #smgl:e x karen #smg4 ocs #smg4 oc #smg8 #n4 #smg4 oc: mango #tsb #hexsy #neo #smg4 karen #christmas 2024

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defmaybe · 2 hours ago

Text

Sparks

12 Days of Christmas: Day 3, December 27th, 2024

tripleS’ Kim Yooyeon x Male Reader

4.2k words

A/N: Some gaming reference.

—

You couldn’t care less about Kim Yooyeon.

But she won’t seem to let you out of her sight.

—

It’s Christmas Eve. Taylor Swift’s Sparks Fly blares around the house. A bunch of drunk college students are surrounding you, as you’re playing Balatro on your phone, trying to beat the gold stake, the top one. A cup of beer sits by your side.

Your friends are out there trying to win a woman’s heart with their charms, with the help of alcohol and such. You couldn’t care less. You already have video games as your companion. It’s always like this: you’re always on your phone at social gatherings, talking to nobody.

What’s the damn point of coming here, then?

“Hey.”

A voice shakes you. You look up from your phone to find Kim Yooyeon in her Christmas costume—a strapless red and white dress. She looks good, but that’s not enough to pull you out of this damn fun card game.

“Hey, Yooyeon,” you greet her, before going back to hitting another flush on your phone. What is she even doing here?

“How are you?” She takes a seat beside you, one leg on top of the other. It’s revealing, but you’re not giving to it.

With eyes still focused on your phone, you answer her, “I’m good, thanks.”

You hear her sigh, and you realize that you forgot to ask her back. How rude of you!

“How are you, Yooyeon?” you ask her without pouring much care into it. She lets out a short exhale, amused by your nonchalance.

“Pretty good. Just finished my finals this afternoon,” she replies, leaning closer towards you to see what you’re playing. You can see that her dress is slightly revealing. “Ooh, Balatro~”

You let out a chuckle. What’s the possibility of someone like her playing the same game as you?

“Yeah, you play it?” you say, eyes still focusing on the screen.

“From time to time, yeah,” she answers. Her voice is calm, unfazed by the loud music.

You have never gotten the appeal of Kim Yooyeon to the other people around you. Not that you don’t appreciate her, it’s just that you couldn’t care less about this woman. She’s an activity student, taking part in the school band and playing football. She’s damn good as a left winger, according to the other guys. Her duty is cutting inside and scoring or–what’s the word?

Assisting.

You’ve never watched a single game.

You, on the other hand, are a full-time gamer. You stay in your room almost all the time, immersing yourself in the gaming world. You’ve played it all: Elden Ring, Slay the Spire, both parts of The Last of Us, and now Balatro. Talking to people just isn’t your thing.

“Have fun,” she finally says, noticing the gap between you and her, and she walks away into the party, enjoying the music again.

“See ya.” Your eyes didn’t even leave the screen when you said it.

—

The night rolls on. You’re frustrated at the game. You’ve died in the fourth ante for the third time in a row. Fuck! You reached the seventh ante once earlier in the night!

“Bad luck?”

Yooyeon comes back to you. You swear she looks different from an hour ago. She looks… prettier. Maybe it’s the effect of those damn alcohols. You can’t sway for now.

“Y–Yeah,”

Yooyeon then sits down on the chair beside you, one leg over the other. The view’s inviting “Wanna turn off the game and walk around?”

You shoot her a small, polite smile. “Thanks, but I’d rather be here, really.”

“It’d be fun,” Yooyeon persuades. “Might be better than keeping losing to the gold stake.”

She won’t let up, won’t she?

You let out a sigh. “I’ll go out when I’m ready, Yooyeon.”

Yooyeon chuckles. “Come see me when you’re ready~”

And you start a new run, so damn determined to beat this stake.

—

Your efforts prove fruitless, as you’re getting wrecked by the bullshit boss blinds again and again. Your builds just keep getting wrecked by these fucking bosses.

“Fuck.”

New run, new run, new run.

You hear a small giggle from the back. It’s Yooyeon, again.

“Ready to head out?” asks Yooyeon, thumb pointing towards the partygoers hollering behind her.

You groan in displeasure, frustrated by your defeat. You finally have to accept her invitation.

“Sure.”

You get up from your chair despondently. “Lead the way, Miss Kim.”

She lets out a childish giggle. “Alright, we’ll go to the kitchen. I have something for you~”

What could it be?

Yooyeon then leads you to the kitchen, sauntering. Her hips are swaying seductively. Her red and white Christmas costume is hugging her curves a little too well, and you wish you could just tear it off and start eating–

Where did that come from? Control yourself!

You walk through the murmuring crowd. Some of them are whispering to each other. They’re probably wondering what could’ve a star winger been doing with a nobody like you. You’re a bit tense by the onlookers. But with Yooyeon in front of you, it feels–weirdly calming.

You two finally reach the kitchen. She opens the fridge door, bending down to grab an egg. Her meaty thighs are all there for you to see. Her butt makes a slight contact with your crotch gently. Your breath hitches a little, but you can’t let her know she affects you.

Against the counter, she breaks the egg. She drizzles the white part of it out into the sink, leaving the yolk intact. It hasn’t broken yet.

What is she going to do with it?

She then chugs the yolk into her mouth. Your breath hitches slightly. Does every athlete have this crazy diet?

She turns back towards you. The yolk is still inside her mouth. She’s walking to you, swaying her hips, balancing the yellow blob with her tongue. Fuck, what an image.

“Y–Yooyeo–”

She grabs onto your face with both of her hands, pulling your face closer to hers, pressing you down, making your knees bent. You get a scent of her intoxicating perfume. She smells so good. Her thumbs push your mouth open, before she passes the yellow yolk into your mouth, intact. Your heartbeat speeds up. Your breathing quickens. Your hands tremble. You are everything but sure of what is happening.

Fuck.

You stare nervously into Yooyeon’s eyes, who seem satisfied with her result, making you a shaking mess with a yolk inside your mouth. She’s smirking. She’s rejoicing in this. Her hands are still gripping on your face tightly.

The yellow substance rests on your tongue idly. It tastes so fucking weird, but you can’t just spit it out so damn easily. You’re trying your best not to break it, but it’s fucking hard when you’re a shaking mess like this. You stutter out moans and moans with it inside.

You slowly stand up straight, slightly towering over her again. Although, with the smirk she’s having on her face, and the grip she has on your face, she’s holding the upper hand here.

She then opens her mouth, sticking out her tongue slightly, signaling you to pass the yolk back into her cavern. You close your eyes as you do so, letting out a shaky hum. It drifts from your mouth to hers. The earthy taste of it lingers—raw, pungent.

Yooyeon lets out a giggle with the golden blob in her mouth. It’s opening slightly. Her right hand lands on your back, forming an embrace, drawing stuttered whimpers out of you.

You’re lost in the sensation of her touches. Her left hand caresses your cheeks, even plunging her salty thumb into your mouth. You suck on her finger like some common whore. Her right hand travels under your belt. She’s grabbing your bulge softly. It feels so good.

Again, she then forces your mouth open with her fingers, before carefully lodging the yolk into your mouth. You try to receive it gently. You’re doing your best not to break it, but it’s hard when you’re under Yooyeon’s spell like this.

She plays with the tent in your pants eagerly, doing her best to make you lose control. She smiles wickedly before unzipping your pants, giving her a hole to play with your boxers. God, you feel like a toy for her, and that feels utterly divine.

You can feel that it’s starting to grow runny within your mouth. It’s going to break, but you can’t just let it happen! Yooyeon, please open your gorgeous mouth!

Like a saving grace, Yooyeon parts her lips slightly again. Shaken, you pass the amber blob back into her cavern. She accepts it with a hum, still caressing your caged cock eagerly. She lets out a satisfied hum in response to the yolk within her mouth.

You watch as the golden yolk rests on her tongue. The image is nothing short of outlandishly vulgar—every twist of her tongue, every squeeze of her hand. She’s so good at this.

She decides to toy with you a little more, inserting her slender fingers into your mouth. You accept them gleefully, so fucking ready to suck on her fingers like a bitch. You feel so good, so joyful, being her little man-whore like this. You’re so ready to be used by her like a personal fucktoy.

Her right hand digs under your boxers. She’s grabbing your cock now! And she’s fondling your balls like she owns it (she owns it). Her dexterous fingers are making you want to moan like a bitch. You let out an uncontained whimper at her touch into her fingers, looking weakly into her eyes. She has all the power over you now, and you can do nothing about it but to let her use you.

Again, she pries your mouth open with her fingers, opening hers along with yours. The yolk becomes visible again. Your turn.

She deliberately tilts her head down as you lower your knees to level yourself. The golden blob rests on her lips before it slides into your mouth.

A soft cry leaves you as the egg finds its place on your tongue. The sensation is unreal—the pungent taste of the amber ball, her fondling on your cock. You can cum right here and now, coating her right hand with your white, viscous nectar.

You slowly straighten yourself, towering over her once again. The power she’s holding over you remains. Both you and her know that she’s in control here. Her eyes bore straight into yours, making your legs shaking with anxiety.

There’s a hint of strawberries on her lips. She’s barely touching you on the mouth. Her breathing stays steady, as if she’s not at all affected by this. Her right hand is still squeezing your testicles in a consistent rhythm, enough to keep you stay obedient under her.

The egg enters your welcoming mouth. It feels so fragile inside you, and you’re struggling to control it. You feel weak. You panic. Your body trembles in anxiety. Is it going to–

The yolk breaks.

It explodes inside your mouth. Yellow liquid leaks out of its thin shell. The earthy, pungent taste fills your mouth, and you hear Yooyeon giggle, still groping your cock. Your eyes flutter at the overwhelming sensation. It feels so–full. Your head falls backwards, and the yolk leaks out of your parted lips, leaving a yellow trail in its wake on your face, on your shirt, and on your pants.

“Slut.”

—

The baby blue bedroom is barely lit. There’s a Bringing Out the Dead poster on the wall to your right. The owner probably likes Scorsese, you guess. There are Carly Rae Jepsen vinyls displayed on the shelf on your left—Emotion, Dedication, The Loneliest Time. God, the owner has some taste! The room smells of spring. It was taken care of well.

You lie on the soft bed, pliant, as Yooyeon presses you down with her entire body weight strongly, kissing you. Her legs are straddling your thighs, capturing you in place. You have no escape, but it’s like you’d do a thing right now. Yooyeon captures your lips in a fervent kiss. Her tongue pierces into your mouth hungrily, letting out a content hum as she does so. The taste of the yolk and alcohol still lingers in her breath.

Her hands find themselves on your face, holding you in place for the kiss. Her hips grind on your crotch in an erratic rhythm, and that makes you moan. She feels so damn good on your cock. You’re struggling to thrust up towards her still-clothed cunt. You feel so restrained like this.

She then pulls back, panting, leaving a string of saliva connecting your lips for a split second before it is torn off by the distance. Her hands move down to your flat chest.

“Nasty little slut,” Yooyeon sneers.

You let out a submissive whimper at the demeaning name. This feels great–her hands on your chest, her heat on your crotch, her vulgar words piercing your ear.

“Playing so damn hard to get, aren’t you?” Yooyeon continues. Her grinding grows harsher, making you stutter out whimpers. “Tell me I didn’t get this abs just for you to ignore me in the hallways.”

Her garment is pulled up, showing her firm muscles underneath. Your mouth opens wide in awe. She looks damn delicious. Jokes on you for not looking at her midriff when she wears those alluring crop-tops. You reach out to touch her, feeling the contour of her abs. She groans in satisfaction.

“Fucking whore.” Yooyeon laughs wickedly. Her head falls backward in ecstasy as she ups the ante on your crotch. Your body writhes in unbridled pleasure.

“Oh, I haven’t finished The Last of Us. I’m stuck at Radahn. I’m close to winning Ascension Twenty,” she mocks you. Her assaults on you are violent. You whimper again. What a slut.

“And now you’re touching my abs like some whore,” she scoffs. Her words are searing through you, but your arousal only heightens with the demeaning words. Her breathing seems to quicken with your touch.

Your mind can’t register anything around you anymore, so lost in the haze of her conquest and her degrading words over your body. You’re so lost that you don’t notice her hands unbuttoning your shirt, slowly revealing your out-of-shape body—should’ve hit the gym more often.

In a quick motion, she continues stripping off your body. She pulls your pants down to your ankles as she scoots slightly backwards on the bed. Your erection is visible under the boxers.

“Haven’t been using him a lot, have you?” she asks with an evil grin, fondling your cock gently.

“I–I’ve–ngh–had sex b–before, Yooyeon,” you stammer.

“Slut.”

She then slips your boxers down. Your cock springs free from its fabric cage. Her eyes sparkle with wonder. She loves your cock, and she just can’t wait to impale herself with it.

Hastily, she takes off her gorgeous red-and-white top. What a waste. She looks so pretty in it, but that thought is immediately replaced by the view of her toned body. You stare at her in awe. Her pert breasts are on full display, brown nipples already erect, just for you to–

“Mmm, suck on my tits like that, bitch.” Her words spur you on. You keep tasting her nipples like your life depends on it. You keep alternating your mouth between both sides, kneading the other with your free hand. Her aroma is an aphrodisiac to you—pungent, raw—and that only makes you grow more ferocious under her.

Feeling fulfilled with your sucking, Yooyeon pushes you onto the bed with a thud upon landing. You groan in the absence of her breasts inside your mouth.

“This is the part where you’ll be fucking my cunt,” Yooyeon orders, as she stands up on the bed, taking her panties off. The sight is nothing short of perfectly depraved. Her frame looks even more appetizing towering over you, but sadly (or not), you’re not the one in control here.

Her undergarment comes off easily, and now she’s holding it. She’s looking at it, contemplating, before a light bulb in her head is switched on.

“You want this?” she asks, lowering her panties close to your nose. You can smell the raw aroma of her cunt. It’s so hypnotic.

You nod sheepishly, and she grins wickedly before pressing the cloth onto your nose. Your air becomes the bewitching scent of her pussy. Your inhales grow deeper, wanting to take in all of her smell. She’s musky. She’s tart. She’s making your brain go haywire.

You hear her laugh mischievously. Her eyes are darkened with pure desire. You couldn’t have asked for a better situation to be in right now.

“Keep it on your nose while I ride this cock,” Yooyeon orders sternly. You nod, her panties still on your face.

She then slowly lowers herself. You feel her wet heat hovering above your throbbing manhood. Her red and white skirt covers the nice view, but you’d argue that it’s hotter this way, with her panties on your nose also and all. Your breathing grows even more erratic. So does hers. Her hands find purchase on your chest, almost drawing blood from you. It hurts, but you couldn’t give less fuck about it.

The first contact between your cock and her cunt makes you two form a cacophony with your moans. She welcomes you with such tightness that makes your eyes flutter in ecstasy, while your size stretches her cunt out so wide that she moans.

“Goddamn–shit! You’re so fucking big!” she shouts, eyes looking into the ceiling. Someone is going to hear that, even with these thick walls.

She goes even deeper on your cock. You two groan in pure bliss as she impales her cunt with you. Pleasure shocks through you like electricity. The sensation that’s hugging around your cock is just so unreal. Her eyes point towards the ceiling. She’s really enjoying this.

“You feel so much better than my dildo, holy fuck!” Her words only serve to heighten your arousal, making your body quiver even more, as she sinks down on your cock. She’s going to reach the hilt.

And you feel it, her warm ass touching your balls. She’s at the hilt. You’re fully inside her. Her eyes flutter. Her body spasms. Her moans stutter.

“F–F–Fuck, goddd,” cries Yooyeon. She’s loving your cock. She stays there, savoring every second of your cock inside her entrance. She’s sitting on your lap.

“Y–You know, I’ve been waiting on this day for so f–fucking long,” she says, still gripping on your chest tightly. Her face flushes. “I’ve been doing a lot to make you look, you know?”

“Well, I’m look–”

Yooyeon cuts your train of words with a finger inside your mouth, silencing you. You know what to do: sucking on it like a whore.

“Should’ve known that all it takes for you is an egg.” She lets out a chuckle. “Slut.”

You say nothing, just smiling with joy, not resisting her finger inside your mouth. The sensation pooling in your crotch is burning.

She slowly lifts herself off your cock, the feeling tells, despite her short skirt covering the act. Her breathing grows erratic, and so does yours. You and her cry out in pleasure, eyes fluttering. It feels so good.

And she impales her cunt again. The two of you groan deeply in pleasure. Her thighs ripple against yours.

“Mmm, yesss,” Yooyeon moans.

She finds her rhythm, lifting off of you, slamming her hips back down, and repeats. Your whole body feels electric, welcomed by her tight, wet cunt that grips your cock like a vice. The feeling of the friction on your length is nothing short of ecstatic. Her panties fall off from your face to the side. Her aroma is gone, but you won’t complain.

“You goddamn slut. You love my pussy, don’t you?” Yooyeon scoffs, wrapping her hands on your throat. You can barely breathe, and it’s driving you insane. She grins, and that looks so fucking frightening, but also–hot, somehow. “Bet I’m so fucking wet and tight, gripping your cock so good.”

You can only nod sheepishly to her questions, before she tightens her grip around your throat even harsher. You can’t breathe. You’re making gagging sounds. You’re so damn happy. It’s so goddamn pleasurable.

“Better breed me to make up for that time lost, understand?” she orders, and you just nod along with her words again.

She lifts her hands off your throat. It’s nice to finally get some air again. She picks up her pace on your cock. It becomes reckless now. You’re letting out guttural groans and whimpers, and she’s rejoicing in your pleasure.

Her motions become turbulent. Your cock is now sore from all the riding she’s doing. Still, you’re more than happy to let her use you like this. You’re more than happy to let her own your little ass.

She sucks a sudden, before uttering, “G–Gonna cum.”

“M–Me t–too, nghhnn.”

“Don’t you dare fucking cum before me, alright? I don’t want your cock to go soft before I squirt on this–” she then wanders her hand over your willing body, feeling every single curve and contour she can find, making you whimper “–little body of yours.”

Yooyeon giggles, before ramping up her pace. She plunges her fingers into your welcoming mouth once more, and you’re sucking them like a whore. She lets out grunts and groans, bouncing on your cock. The friction on your cock is just too pleasant. Then, there’s the smell of her body, now slick with sweat. You’re too happy to take it in. She’s pungent. Your eyes are fluttering from the overwhelming sensation.

She lets out a fair bunch of profanities, mostly calling you a slut (which you’d happily admit you are). Then, there come the signals. Her body spasms. Her walls contract. You can just feel it.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna cum.”

“Wh–Wha–”

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

She arches backwards, showing off her toned abs. A torrent of liquid sprays out of her cunt onto your stomach. Her body writhes on top of you before collapsing into your embrace. Her loud, aggressive groans fill your ear.

“Wh–What a good f–fucking cock,” she mutters with any of the energy she has left. Exhaustion catches her, but you can’t stop now. It’s your turn.

With your remaining stamina, you thrust up into her sensitive cunt. Both of your moans form a cacophony that fills the room, along with the sound of flesh slapping into each other.

“Goddd~” Yooyeon groans. You’re hammering into her with reckless abandon. Her body vibrates with each of your thrust. “I’m not letting you cum outside, slut. I’ve been waiting for this for too long.”

She then inserts her fingers into your mouth again, to which you’re happy to suck on them like you’re her slut (you’re her slut). Your hips are still pumping your cock into her.

And it comes, the impending doom, the storm. The familiar feeling is building up inside your loins. You’re going to cum inside Yooyeon!

“G–Gonna cum.”

“C–Cum inside me, cum inside me,” she orders, eyes staring into yours. She wants this. She needs this.

And you break. Your whole body quivers. Your cock shoots ropes and ropes of cum into her pussy. It twitches and twitches within her. Yooyeon bends forward to capture you in a deep kiss, piercing her dexterous tongue into your mouth. Her hands grip onto the sides of your face tightly. The lewd sound of the kiss fills your ear. Fuck, this feels so good.

The orgasm slowly dies down, though still leaving a lasting effect on your cock that’s twitching inside of her. Yooyeon pulls back from the kiss, finally. A string of saliva connecting your lips can be seen. She pants, looking up at the ceiling. Sweat runs down her face. She looks so ethereal in the afterglow.

“Fuck,” she utters, unable to catch her breath. Her breathing is still out of rhythm.

You can only smile, watching her almost naked on top of you like this. It’s a sight.

Yooyeon then collapses down against your body. Her skin is slicked from all the sweat from the fucking. You can feel her fast heartbeat on your chest. Your cock is still buried deep inside of her.

She then drags herself off of your now-flaccid cock. You groan at the sensitivity you’re feeling. She only giggles at you in response.

“Let me go to the bathroom first, and maybe, maybe, we can go for another round,” she says, before getting off the bed and sauntering towards the bathroom. She strips out of her short skirt on the way, finally giving you the view of her plump ass you’ve been craving.

It’s going to be a long night.

—

#yooyeon #triples #yooyeon smut #triples smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut

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