#don’t look too closely lotta things not making sense

[ibnats]

made this like a year ago..

[emilys-bangs]

the end of beginning | e.p

Tags: bau!reader, fluff, no use of yn, s2 baby emily, a whole lotta yearning

Summary: In which Emily is new to the team and finds a friend in you. Requested here.

Word count: 1.2k

Emily has always felt out of place. 

In high school, in her mother’s lavish gatherings, in the sprawling estate that she’d eventually learned to call home. It’s never something she can help, though with gritted teeth she developed the art of blending in with fake smiles and perfectly crafted words. It’s a habit that stuck with her, one she’s never quite learned how to shake off even after all these years.

So it makes sense that she doesn’t fit in at her new job.

It works just fine with her. Emily has had a lifetime to get used to it; isolation had become her friend, the liquid movement of her following shadow more than often her only, constant, companion. Despite that, she had a small, lingering hope. That maybe coming back to DC would mean making herself a home, finding—if not friends—companions that she could be casual with, invite out for a round of drinks when the thick silence of her apartment was too much.

Hope was quickly snuffed out. Her boss only thinly veils his distrust, and the youngest—Reid—stares at her with accusing eyes. The rest of her coworkers are lukewarm, not quite yet interested in getting to know her; their gazes are more often than not tinged with condescension, as if they’re not sure she’s earned her place. It seems like everyone’s waiting for her to slip up, for Hotch to chew her out and pluck her from the neatly rounded group they’ve found themselves being, a well oiled machine that works perfectly in order without her.

Everyone, apparently, except you.

You and Garcia, that is, but the tech analyst’s influence is a lot less reassuring given that it’s behind phone calls and computer screens most of the time. But with you there with her—in the field, at your joint desks in the bullpen—things are more bearable. 

“Hey.” 

You’re whispering slightly as you slip into the vacant seat in front of her, fingers wrapped around a steaming mug.

Emily looks up at you. The dimmed lights of the jet reflect in your eyes, painting you in softer edges as you sit down across from her without waiting for an invitation. There’s an easiness to your movements, one that she would say is out of place considering how long you’ve known her. Still, warmth spreads to her icy fingertips, and she can’t help the small smile that pulls at her lips.

“Hi,” she says back, matching your tone. Other than the hum of the jet itself—and the rumble of distant snores she’s too far away to be bothered by—a soothing silence has settled across the cabin, and her voice doesn’t carry much farther than your seat. The smile that you return is friendly, a sight that she’s been slowly getting accustomed to these past few weeks.

She’s a little surprised when you don’t offer anything more to say. You simply lean back in your seat and take a sip from your mug, her eyes tracing the bop of your throat as you swallow and look down at the sudoku in your hand. Emily’s finger is still slotted inside her book; she’d automatically marked the page and shut the cover closed when you appeared, some subconscious mechanism turning in her head so that you get her full attention.

The revelation that you might simply want her company comes too late. 

You’re looking back up at her, your eyes meeting hers as a slow warmth runs beneath her icy skin. Emily should look back down; she has nothing to say, other than the blunt but genuine question of why are you here, but you give a small shrug and she’s enraptured, tracing the sheepish line of your pressed lips.

“Gideon’s snores get a little loud.” You say.

Emily’s surprised to hear her own laugh. It seems you are, too. A small movement draws your brows upward, but the curve of your mouth is distinctly pleased, your eyes brightening beneath the dim lights of the jet. The sound doesn’t last long—it’s low, soft, joined by your own laugh for a few brief seconds—but its effect carries tension from Emily’s shoulders, makes her slip her finger out of her book with a genuine smile.

“That they do,” she murmurs back, already familiar with the loud rumbles that have made their way through thin motel walls, occasionally piercing her already irregular sleep. The sleeves of her cardigan are pulled over her knuckles; she tugs them higher, seeking to cover the ice in her fingertips. 

“Are you cold?”

Maybe she is. Maybe the sound of your voice spills warmth down her veins. Emily doesn’t like admitting things, but her smile gives her away. It borders on shy, barely wide enough for her dimples to curve in her cheeks; she wishes she had a mug of her own to hide behind, but she has an inkling that hiding from you would be pointless.

In the end she shrugs.

You set your mug and sudoku down. “I’ll be right back.” 

She’s left staring at your empty seat, brows furrowing slightly as goosebumps break out on her skin. The jet really is ridiculously cold. And yet when you come back less than a minute later holding out a fuzzy blanket for her to take, she shakes her head.

“Oh, I can’t—”

“Please,” you insist. “I remember I forgot to layer up the first few times on here and I was miserable. Makes you stiff,” your lips twist into a smile, and you’re looking at her so earnestly that she submits.

“It does,” Emily says, this time accepting the blanket. You beam at her and she goes warm, though it has nothing to do with the fuzzy, light gray wool now draping over her lap. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Emily places her book on the table before effectively burying herself in your blanket. It’s warm and soft; when she brings it up over her shoulders, a faint scent of perfume nuzzles against her nose. Yours. In seconds, her hands grow warm. She chances a glance at you, a thank you almost tipping from her lips again—just to continue the conversation, hear your voice, when you do it for her.

“What does that say?” You’re peering at the worn cover of her book. The edges are curled, the spine broken. The margins are full of her loopy scrawl and unsteady underlines, more than a few pages dog eared.

Emily bites back a smile at the curious draw of your brows. “Les Liaisons Dangereuses.” The French slips effortlessly from her lips, smooth and curling. “The Dangerous Liaisons. It’s a French classic, one of my favorites. I could tell you about it,” her hand peeks out from the edge of the blanket and she fidgets with her hair, tucks it behind her ear, “if you’d like.”

You lean your elbows on the table, sudoku very much ignored as you peer at her with something like astonishment. A grin pulls at your lips and she’s suddenly overheating.

“I very much would, Agent Prentiss.”

“Emily.” 

“Emily.” You agree, tilting your head in a nod. “Tell me about Les Liaisons Dangereuses.” You butcher the title beyond belief. The displeased wrinkle of your nose says you know it, and butterflies erupt along Emily’s lungs.

She laughs, the beginnings of a blush staining her cheeks.

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism @catssluvr @i-lovefandom @haiklya @justhereforthosefics @storiesofsvu@ashluvscaterina @basicallyvivi @temilyrights @moonlight-simp 

[presidentbungus]

Distractions - engie/medic, ~1k

ao3

finally returning to the time-honored art of feverishly scribbling down a short little science party fic in the middle of the night. my brain disease is back. please enjoy

“I have to say, laborer, I expected better from you.”

His back hits the wall, bare head thunks against it. He lost his hard hat in the first scuffle. And his shotgun. And his pistol. The metal of the gun barrel pressed against his forehead ain’t cold anymore.

Part of him wishes the son of a bitch would get on with it already. The other part of him, though, is the one that’s making him sweat like a stuck pig, and is the one locking his mouth shut.

Good ol’ instinct for ya. Won’t even let you bite yourself in the ass.

Spy just sits there for a second, that smug-poodle look on his face, and he tilts his head. Keeps making a show of fidgeting with the trigger, like he doesn’t even know how stupid it looks. “Not going to say anything? Any last words, laborer?”

“What, you want an autograph?”

He laughs at that, but not in the nice way. “I don't think you are in a position to speak to me that way."

"I think you're in a great position to take a hike and go stick that goddamn muzzle—“

Spy makes a big old ruckus of adjusting his grip on the gun, so he shuts up.

“You are pathetic,” Spy says, sweet ‘n simple. “Hm?”

What a hypocrite. Engineer might hear something—Spy’s being too full of himself to pay any attention. Tap-tap-tap. Footsteps, perfectly even.

“Are you not going to reply to me?”

Engineer just smiles, politely. “Ain’t you supposed to be a good spy?”

Spy hears it too, by now, and he should know better than to relax his grip on the gun when the calculation runs through his pea brain.

Flash of white. Stomp-stomp-stomp. A glower that’s mad enough to probably kill on its own. Engineer grips the barrel of the revolver in his fist while he's distracted, points it at the ceiling as a gunshot rings out and a lotta emotions run through Spy’s face at once—fear-related, mostly.

And, well, he should’ve known better than to put his back to a doorway.

He doesn’t even get to turn around before Medic grips the back of his suit and thrusts the übersaw straight through his head. Engineer whistles at the bit of brain coating the edge as Medic twists once, laughs, and dislodges it, leaving Spy to fall to the ground like a bag of rice.

“Shameful,” he tuts.

Engie stands up, dusts himself off, goes to grab his hard hat but he’s stopped by an arm wrapping around his waist, pulling him in close.

He half-complains till Medic pulls him into a very sudden kiss and, well, that shuts him right up. Whenever they pull away (which takes a while) Medic frowns and says: “What, not even a thank-you?”

“Well.” He’s a little breathless, to be honest. “Gimme a second.”

Medic hums and releases him. “I marched across the entire field. Soldier is going to try to murder me when I get back. Nevertheless he will not succeed, but it will be annoying. You should be grateful.”

“The whole field, huh? And you knew I was in trouble?”

“I have a sixth sense for these things, Engineer. And you are very predictable, you know.”

Engineer finds his hat in the corner of the room, dusts it off, and puts it back on, going back over to Medic to pat his admittedly finely sculpted chest. “Well, either you’re psychic or you put a chip in my spine you’re refusin’ to tell me about. Which one do ya think’s more likely?”

“It’s very important to me to keep tabs on your health,” he says, simply.

“I’m sure it is.”

“Besides, don’t act like you weren’t waiting for me to come rescue you.”

"Well, it’s your fault for making me dependent,” he muses, yanking on that nice straight tie of his just for the little wheeze that pulls out of him. “I could handle it myself if I really wanted to.”

“Oh, I'm sorry." Medic puts a hand on his back, grins, and then lifts him up in a bridal carry, cackling as he yelps, gently knocking their foreheads together. Then: "I suppose I'll just have to stop saving you, Schatz. Keep you on your toes, yes?”

“Hey now. Never said that.”

“I just feel so unappreciated, Engineer… never get any thanks for the things I do…”

Well.

Engineer grips him real tight by the tie (again) and brings him in and they almost fall over on top of each other, but Medic catches himself on a wall which Engineer bangs his head against and somehow they manage to find their way to each other in the meantime. The kiss is short, sweet, and vicious, and Engineer pulls away to wait for Medic to go in himself and he does not hesitate one second, which was really the whole endgame anyway. Eventually Medic sets him down and pins him instead and that’s great and all but right against the wall where he is, a lot of what he’s getting is just a nice round view of Spy’s mangled corpse spilled across the ground.

Which is definitely something. It’s hard to find space with how Doc’s basically mauling him but eventually he manages to push him back, and he takes a second to catch his breath and says: “I’m sorry but the corpse is kinda ruining the mood for me.”

Medic looks back… then forward, to Engineer, with a huge sigh. “That makes sense.”

Engineer smiles, finally releasing his death-grip on Medic’s tie and placing a hand on his chest that in concept is supposed to push him away, though he stays right in place and doesn’t seem to get the message. “And look, I’m sorry to be the one who has to say this, but we should probably get back to work soonish, anyway.”

He pouts. “Oh, nonsense.”

“How long’ve you been away? Soldier’s gonna rip you apart.”

“I will simply rip Soldier apart before he rips me apart.”

“… I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“You don’t know that.”

Engineer can’t keep down a scoff. “We are the two people on the whole team who shouldn’t go missing under any circumstances.”

Medic finally pushes away, grumbling. “You always do this.”

“I like my job. You like your job, I think. Right?"

"... Well..."

"Oh, c'mon, darlin'."

He leans down until their foreheads are touching. “I’m afraid I don’t like my job as much as I like you.”

Engineer can’t resist the urge to peck him on the nose after that, but he swiftly sidesteps the revenge kiss and starts heading out of the room. Whatever indignant thing Medic shouts is covered over by him shouting back: “We’ll reconvene!”

And all he gets back from that is a very protracted groan, and at least the mental image of two hideous kitten-eyes, and that's good enough for him for now.

[captain039]

PART 3 Souls coming together (last part most likely)

Ascended Vampire Duke!Astarion x human!reader

(Intertwined with a mortal continuation read part one here)

Warnings: Olden times, age gap, lots of feels, angst, working through trauma, tension, sexual, oral f-receiving, marriage, Astarions trauma and issues, body shaming, harassment, anxiety’s and depression, lotta issues xD

Previous part <-

You didn’t see the duke for a week and you were going mad. You were thinking the worst happened, either a vampire hunter got him, or he wasn’t drinking again, or he truely gave up this time on you and him. Gods you were a mess, you often writ letters, but never sent them, you tried to avoid public outings because of chatter and whispers. It was becoming a little to stressful on your omega self, it was the eighth night now and you were putting on a hood, some of your oldest gross clothing you could find before you glanced out your window. You hesitated freezing when your door opened.

“Lady Y/n?” Your servant asked and you turned around ushering her in and closing the door as softly as you could before sighing.

“May I ask what’s going on?” She said slightly amused.

“I’m going-“ you stopped feeling your cheeks warm.

“To see Duke Ancunin?” She finished and you groaned quietly.

“It’s been eight days! Eight! He missed the party which was horrible anyway, he hasn’t visited either!” You felt over worried.

“Sneaking out the window is the best idea, come” she smiled and you froze, she was going to help you? She led you out one of the back doors and onto the street without being heard or seen, you were surprised at how sneaky she was as she gave you a grin and ushered you off.

“Is this really wise?” You suddenly asked and she huffed.

“Fine, come on then, I doubt you even know where to go” she rolled her eyes taking your hand and leading you down the streets of Baldurs gate. You ended up at the dukes place with little trouble, a few odd looks by those without homes, but they didn’t comment or trouble you.

“This is highly inappropriate!” You whispered stopping her.

“You wanted to do this” she stated.

“Shhh! I wanted to see him, without actually seeing him!” You groaned quietly making your servant raise her eyebrow.

“That makes total sense, come, I know a man here” she said and by the look on her face she knew him very well. She knocked with a rhythm and an elf opened the door.

“Laria? What on earth are you doing here?” Asked looking to you before his eyes went wide.

“You bought a lady of your house?! Are you mad?!” He snapped as she huffed at the poor beta.

“Let us in” she said and the elf groaned, but let you in.

“The master is not going to be happy” he mumbled.

“Is he alive?” You asked.

“He’s alive” The elf said vaguely and your stomach churned.

“He’s not himself” the elf added making your stomach churn even worse.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into him lately” the elf sighed and your servant smirked.

“I do” she grinned and you glared at her.

“Besides the lady! This should be a blessing finding your mate instead he’s acting like this!” The elf sighed body sagging.

“I try to talk to him and it goes sour really quickly, by either of us, I don’t know what’s going on or how to talk to him” you said sadly.

“Maybe you should go see him” the elf said.

“Come” he added beginning to walk up the stairs. You followed him your servant by your side before he stopped in front of a door. Light shone through the bottom and you gulped slightly. You sensed him in there and you knew he did too by the silence.

“Maybe this was a bad idea” the elf muttered and you huffed hand reaching out to the door with shakiness. You took a breath before opening the door frowning a bit at the utter chaos of the office. Books were everywhere, papers had flow everywhere, things were broken and smashed. You saw him in the corner of the room sitting on the floor his eyes staring at you. You closed the door behind you and shrugged off your cloak and hung it up on the surprisingly standing hanger.

“Why’re you here?” The duke asked.

“How are here?” He added a frown on his face.

“I snuck out” you said gulping as his eyes narrowed. He was suddenly in front of you and you let out a small gasp.

“You shouldn’t walk around at night” he said eyes boring into yours.

“Astar- duke Ancunin, I haven’t seeing you in eight days, you missed the party and I am concerned for your well being” you spoke softly and kept your eyes from his.

“After our last encounter something happened” you said looking to him.

“Nothing happened” he said and you saddened.

“We can’t keep doing this” you muttered.

“Doing what?” He asked and you clenched your jaw briefly.

“Shutting everything out or off, avoiding actual conversation, simply dancing and expecting it to work- I” you took a shaky breath.

“I want to know you” you said looking to him again, his eyes widened as he stared at you.

“Whatever demons or past haunts you, you don’t have to say, I just-“ you sighed again.

“I want to know my mate, be with him, more than dance and fake lives” you whispered looking to the ground again.

“I will marry you, if that’s what it takes” you added searching his eyes only his walls were too high. You sagged again, stomach dropping and the same feeling of rejection settled in again.

“Then we shall marry” he said and you looked up to him in surprise. You couldn’t read his expression though.

“If that’s what you desire” he nodded and you shook your head.

“What do you want?” You almost begged.

“It can’t just be one sided it’s a union of two people! Two souls!” You gestured between the both of you and he frowned.

“Please, what do you want?” You begged finally trying to hold onto a sliver of hope.

“You” he muttered his eyes on you so intently it made you shudder. He hesitated briefly making you frown slightly before lips pressed against yours. You made a surprised noise, but quickly welcomed him your hands cupping his face. His hands grabbed your waist, tugging you closer before backing you up to the wall. You moaned quietly one hand tangling in his hair the other resting on his chest, gripping the white frilled shirt he wore. His hands ran over your sides, squeezing the flesh as he went sending your body alight. You made small noises opening your mouth hoping to get air. He pulled back only to kiss down your jaw and to your neck as he began untying the back of your dress in haste. You tilted your head panting harshly as he managed to slip your dress off, leaving in your undergarments and slip. You felt your cheeks go hot as he moved from your neck back to your lips, tongue prodding against your lips. You parted your lips letting his tongue slide in. He moved you both and you fell on a lounge, him following. You gripped the hem of his shirt and tugged it up, he pulled apart letting you lift it over his head. You threw it on the floor and held his face as you kissed him again, he rested his hips on yours as your hands glided up his arms and into his back. You felt him freeze instantly though as your finger went over raised skin. You looked to him feeling more raised skin in a pattern, what was it? Before you could ask you saw his eyes glaze over like they did when you last met. You panicked a bit cupping his cheeks instead.

“Astarion?” You asked breathlessly and worried, he couldn’t exactly disappear in his own house. You frowned slightly an image flashing in your mind, people locked in in a prison, a man’s face with a sinister grin, the same man bloodied and dead on the floor, you felt power flooding through you, heard screams of many. You opened your eyes with a groan before panting harshly as Astarion shook above you. You focused back on him, who was that man? What had happened there? You tugged him to you gently, forcing him gently to lay on you. You kept your arms around him fingers lightly massaging his scalp. You didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what was happening, but you felt his need to be safe, find somewhere safe, you just hoped you could provide it.

[avirxy]

Mary crawls along the edge of the pickup truck, back pressed against the dirt stained tire. She picked this party specifically, it’s wild and erratic, with plenty of people.

To her right she can see Darci and Jim, moving in the shadows, but it’s her job to sink the hook.

She peers through the cab window hesitantly to gauge, he’s sitting on the outskirts of the bonfire, swirling his plastic cup like he’s contemplating everything all at once.

He’s alone, all alone and most party goers are inside the house this late, the throbbing bass loudly proving that.

Mary figured it’s as good as time as any, rounding the truck.

“Hey,”

He looks up.

“Will you help me get this cooler in the truck?”

She motions at one of the sidelong ones set by the beer pong tables. It’s probably empty, but he won’t get the chance to pick it up.

“Oh, I mean yeah,” He sets his cup down in the dirt and rises, wiping his hands on his jeans.

It’s a shame he’s nice, Mary bites the inside of her cheek.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” He comments, squinting at her confused.

Just a few more steps, he’ll be close enough, the branches overhead shudder.

“I’m sorry.” Mary apologizes just as a heavy, stone hand knocks against the back of his head, the guy instantly crumples. Jim slings him over his shoulder carefully.

“Let’s go,” Darci whispers.

They have what they need, why linger?

His troll form casts large, wispy shadows along the trees. Mary knows he’s not the one they need to fear though.

Toby’s waiting on the porch of the old farmhouse they’ve taken refuge in, arms folded over his chest, it’s easier to do this out of town, keeps things quiet.

“You got one?”

“What’s it look like?” Mary snarks in return, trying to fight off the creeping sense of bile climbing up her throat.

It’s cold, and dark, and creepy inside the abandoned house but none of those things really bother her anymore.

Darci’s hand wraps around her arm, squeezing it for support. The guy’s started to wake up after their trek through the woods, shifting in Jim’s iron grip.

“You can put him down,” Mary jerks her thumb at the door, “there’s no way he could outrun all of us.”

Jim does just that, gentle compared to his menacing appearance.

“Well..let’s just do it,”

Toby opens the basement door slowly, tediously slow in Mary’s opinion. An awful, chilling feeling rushes up the stairs, like a draft, but so, so much worse.

He turns back, swallowing tightly.

“It’s your turn,”

The ritual they performed was supposed to be a joke. It’d been a stupid game, to call upon the Eldritch Queen, as they’d sat corralled in a circle on Darci’s living room floor.

It’d messed them all up in different ways, but what was in the basement was by far the worst punishment. It’s not her friend..it can’t be. But why are they still doing this then? Jim is forthright with the clinging fact, he’s not giving up.

She almost feels bad for the guy, as she hauls him up on his feet, he’s trembling like a leaf in her grasp, pulse racing through his skin.

“I—I don’t know what this is, but I..I didn’t do anything, I don’t have much cash—you can have my wallet.”

“Breathe slowly,” Mary advises, even though she knows it won’t do him any good, “show no signs of fear.”

Fear only makes her play with her prey, the rush of the hunt.

Mary shoves him down the rickety stairs roughly with no warning, watching him roll and collapse as he hits the bottom, she was hoping it’d knock him unconscious, that’d be a lesser way.

Darci’s already turned her head away, unable to bare witness, Toby has too, hand still shakily grasping the door handle.

Jim wears a mix of horrified and sympathetic, hands clenched at his sides. He’s still watching though.

Mary can’t find it in herself to look away anymore, she feels compelled to watch, to see what her stupid, foolish suggestion that night so long ago had wrought.

As he rises to his knees, clawing at the ground, clearly disoriented, his hazel eyes snap up to meet hers, these noiseless shapes above.

“Please,” The guy begins to beg, his foot hitting the first step loosely and that’s as far as he gets. A ghoulish, blackened hand tearing his gravity out from under him.

His body slams back into the cement, ripping the air from his lungs, unable to make a sound at first.

She never goes for them, not even after it’s over, maybe that’s why Mary naively hangs onto the sliver of a possibility, the barest, gut churning amount.

That her friend is still in there, somewhere, deep down.

Even after she closes the basement door, locks it tight and the screams begin in earnest.

[catherinelid]

So, first of all I wanted to congratulate @zirkkun on the full release of Act to Flirt! You've done such a great job! This is definitely one of the best fan games I've ever played.

I also wrote a mini-fanfiction. Again.

Ahem. This one is a fantasy about what would have happened if Sans had somehow been able to see the player for the first time (let's assume that technology could have developed to such a level).

Cold comfort

It all started unexpectedly. Heh. And this is after I thought that nothing would surprise me anymore.

I first saw them in one of the rooms in Waterfall. In the one with the literal hole in the wall, it seems. They sat motionless on the floor and looked at the echo flowers. In truth, they could be confused with the local environment. They were almost transparent and emitted a barely discernible light. And... strangely enough, as I approached them, the air became colder. One would think that it was 'cause I was moving towards the water, but some gut feeling told me that this wasn't the case.

When I got close to them, I noticed their gaze. It turned out to be... empty. Instead of looking at the echo flowers, they seemed to be just staring at the distance.

I called their name. They startled, and then very slowly turned towards me.

“Sans?... How… can… you… see… me? ...No one… else…” I think they said. Even like this it’s hard to understand what they’re saying. When they talk, there is always some kind of interference.

“dunno, kid. why don't ya go ahead as usual? somethin’ happened?”

“…have …no reason. …I don’t… hurry. No one… waits… for me.”

I’m always looking forward to our meetings.

“in that case, do you mind talkin' a bit? since you have free time n'all. would be a shame to distract you.”

“Sure… have nothing… except… time… anyway.”

I have nothing left but you.

“good. i just wanted to ask you a few things, since i have the opportunity…”

Several timelines went about the same way. They did their usual business, always stopping by just to talk to me. Eh. If you can call it that. No one seemed to notice them, only their vessel.

I noticed that no matter the situation, they never smiled. I tried to ask them what happened, but they either remained silent or replied 'nothing'. And this cold air was always with them, too.

Even now, when we are in Snowdin, the air somehow feels colder around them.

“why… you… even… still around?”

“…what do you mean, pal?”

“…you …not …mad…? I’m… bad… person. …you just… tolerate… me?”

Oh. Is that what you were thinking all this time? What makes you feel that way? You are caring and passionate about a lotta things and people. Even... me, somehow. You make me feel alive and needed.

“what makes you think that? i don’t mind your company.”

“That… was… cold comfort…”

“makes sense. we’re in snowdin, after all. heh.”

They look more sullen than ever.

I wish I could express how much you mean to me.

“look. let me give you one piece of advice, buddy. you shouldn’t always trust the first impression. it can deceive you. now why don't we take a walk to the castle overlook. i remember you saying that this is your favorite place in the underground.”

As I was saying this, the air was getting warmer around them until it reached normal temperature.

They just smiled.

[cheemscakecat]

Missing in Action

Chapter 1: Morning

Scout is smarter than people give him credit for, and tensions are high after he confronted Spy.

TW: Angsty. Scout’s got some low self esteem.

How’d he figure it out? Scout got asked by a couple of teammates over the next few days. When he’d been dying on the floor and “Tom Jones” showed up, he thought it was real. There was a chance that Jones could be his dad, even if the odds were crap. And he was dead already because Soldier decided to kill him. It made enough sense to Jeremy that his dead dad would come to collect his soul.

But “Heaven” didn’t. Scout was too embarrassed to share what “God” told him, about him and women. It was the fact that he walked into Heaven and Tom wasn’t following him, despite coming to collect him. The fact that Jones got his neck snapped by angels when Scout got close, the fact that he was in the middle of a game and not anywhere near “Heaven’s” entrance.

And there was the fact that he hadn’t died. Medic told him that because of his size, loosing too much blood made him cat-a-tonic. Soldier n Pyro thought he died in Siberia when they went to get Heavy for the same reason. All that bleeding made him hull-you-san-ate, which explained his dumb version of Heaven. It also meant that there was no ghost coming to greet him that day. And there was only one teammate with a dopey disguise kit to pull that crap off.

Jeremy didn’t really sleep that first night back at base. He wished Spy had left him alone until they got to base, so he could chew him out private like. But then again, maybe the others needed to know so they’d be disgusted with Spy too. At least Ms. Pauling hadn’t heard it. She had enough goin on herself. He wished he’d realized what was going on with her on his own, but she had been hidin it real well. Being from Boston and having Ma calling to talk about life, he’d heard about the gays tryin to get their rights. It was good that he understood Pauling’s reasons for keepin secrets, he didn’t wanna be mad at her like he was mad at Spy.

Scout still wished he had a girlfriend. One that did like guys. His brothers drilled it into him that real men don’t hug each other when they get all teary-eyed. And that getting teary-eyed made you a weak little crybaby. The only person at home that would’ve hugged him was Ma, and sometimes she was just too busy chasin them all around. So after 20 years dealing with that, he’d drop dead before he ever went to a teammate for a hug. They mighta laughed in his face, just like his siblings. So he wished he had a girlfriend to hug him, so nobody would make fun’a him for getting comfort.

It didn’t really matter though. He was still the runt, no matter what. He hated Spy for being so **** skinny and fragile. Hated taking after him, instead of any’a the men on Ma’s side of the family. Hated the fact that loosin blood made him look dead and made him think of stupid crap. Hated being a virgin at 27, and being too dumb to identify a lesbian. Scout didn’t know what to do with himself.

**** Saxon calling him a it, like he wasn’t even a human being. At least that “Mags” lady turned Hale down; the selfish ******* deserved it.

No, Jeremy didn’t sleep that night. At breakfast, which Engineer and Heavy threw together, they gave him an extra few strips of bacon. Thankfully he got to enjoy it, since Spy didn’t bother him. Yet.

————————

A whole lotta planning was going on for fightin BLU as a placeholder job, using the Administrator’s leftover money hoard. Pauling figured she could find someone willing to pay teams to fight, but it might be a while. If BLU and RED ceased to be, most’a them wouldn’t have references at another merc recruitment. She had’ta find something for everyone who wanted the work.

Soldier was planning to marry Heavy’s weird sister, Sniper wasn’t doing too well, Engineer had to get used to Medic and Pyro being around, and they all had to get their things and unpack. It was gonna take a while.

Spy didn’t bother him until that third morning back. He was hovering near Scout’s room out in the hall. Great. At least he didn’t look smug and “better” n everyone when he awkwardly walked up. “Are you in the mood to talk?” Spy asked cautiously. Jeremy just stared back at him in disgust. “What do you think, *****?”

“Okay.” It bothered Scout that his old man thought he’d ever want to talk.

Two more days went by and Spy asked again, this time after dinner. And again 4 days after that, when Jeremy finally told him he’d come talk if he ever felt like it, and to quit asking. Then Spy finally left him alone.

Jeremy sold some of his Tom Jones merch, which was thankfully still mint condition in that craphole Teufort. The people there weren’t trying to hang him anymore, but he still wanted his crap moved. Just being there made his neck prickle and itch, made him remember that goon crowd salivating as he got dropped. Now that Jones had been dead for a while, true-blue collectors were scramblin to buy. Scout kept the best stuff for himself, so he could sell it when he was old as dirt and it would go for more.

It was hard to sort through that collection, but he’d rather sit in a storage unit feeling heartache than deal with Spy. Sent the money back to Ma, shipped his bedroom crap back to base. He found that bein all organized was helpful; it distracted him. He looked for other towns that might have fried chicken and good storage for his collectibles. There was one hours away, if he could get enough motorcycle fuel.

A bunch of people bounced back fast. Whether Spy did or not was the last thing Scout cared to know, but that wasn’t the case for Sniper. He spent a lot of time holed up in that van, more than he used to. Demoman pulled him aside one day and told him why. As much as he hated Spy, he hated the fact that poor Sniper had to hear about it a heck of a lot more.

Stupid, stuck up New Zealand parents. Jeremy made an effort not to whine about Spy around Sniper, it wasn’t fair to him. Ms. Pauling was busier than any of them combined. At least she was smart and useful, two things Jeremy was not. “It’s not like that’s all you ever do.” The woman he loved saw nothing worthwhile in him. He wasn’t sure he’d ever find love. Who would want a loser runt like him, with 7 dumb brothers and a dad who smells like an ashtray?

Just stay busy. Ma’s right, it helps! At least, that’s what he told himself. Four of his brothers had actual wives, the others were not alone like him. Ugh, stop thinking about it! Scout kept working and trying to distract himself, but even being tired from all that wasn’t enough to make good sleep. He had all sorts of dumb freakin nightmares for those first 9 days. Somehow being back on that gallows in Teufort was the worst one.

Day 10 came and Pauling briefed them over the big computer that Engineer built. She deli-gated people to do certain things every other day. She had to do the same for freakin BLU.

“Spy? I need you to gather your things from one of the other bases. You guys are gonna be here for a while.” Spy froze. “Which base is it?” He asked. “Harvest.” That was 4 days away, in freakin Arizona! Not that Jeremy cared. “Alright. I’ll leave in an hour.”

——————-

Scout had a bad feeling that somethin was gonna go wrong. He tried to ignore it, but over the hour it just got stronger and more annoying. He found himself walking to the garage 5 minutes till Spy said he’d leave. He tried not to make eye contact and tinkered with his motorcycle. It’s nothing. Just stop being so weird about-

“Scout?” Spy was way too close, but Jeremy played it cool. “Just workin on this.” He muttered. Spy sighed real shakily and looked away. “Listen.” He begrudgingly looked up.

“I’m going to come back. I promise.” Scout stared up at him blankly. He scoffed and furiously started picking at metal that was fine where it was. Dumb Spy, acting like he’s a kid! Freakin- “I mean it.” Jeremy paused. “I’m going to come back.” Stupid little tears were tryin to form in his eyes. “Whateva.” He choked out. Spy walked away and started his car, which also hadn’t been destroyed in Teufort. And then he left.

Funny. That stupid gut feeling didn’t go away.

[raetreaderarts]

I have a lot to say about Candide from the new Clone High season because she has been on my mind for the past week or so and I love overanalyzing and picking apart my fictional beloveds. It’s mostly just gonna be a lotta inane rambling about things I noticed and dots I’ve connected but if you’re into that then you can go ahead and read whatever I decide to put under here. Also spoilers for season 2 ofc

I don’t think people talk about her characterization enough since she’s not as popular as the clones and Scudworth, but there’s a decent bit to unpack about her from the sparse times she’s onscreen throughout the season. She’s presented as being cold and calculating, having no room for genuine connections other than with her reptiles. The only times we see her being vulnerable are the two times she’s drunk or the time Scudworth’s rabbit ripped her pets to shreds. Some of why this is the case is speculation on my part but there are also some details that stick out to me from the show.

For example, let’s start with her mommy issues (this section does have a small mention of fatphobia so cw for that). In the episode where she unleashes the stress monster onto the school, while she’s thinking of other ways to stress the clones out, she says something along the lines of, “Maybe we can hire someone to pick apart the clones’ bodily insecurities. Maybe my mom is available.” Then in the episode where Joan gets silly legs she tells Joan not to gain any weight while she’s on her business retreat. So there’s clearly something there that’s been carried over from her mother onto her which she is now projecting onto her own foster daughter.

And on that topic, in the sleepover episode, when she takes the truth serum, she admits she wants to be a mom, even though she has a foster daughter and treats her like absolute dogshit (Mr. B please come pick up your daughter Joan deserves better than this). This could either be because Candide doesn’t see Joan as her actual daughter or because she only wants a daughter she can project herself onto. The second point is backed up by the fact that in the finale she shows Joan what she could look like when she becomes the ruler of the world, dressed in a business suit and wearing square glasses- a spitting image of Candide. She wants a position she was never offered so she’s going to attain that power by living vicariously through her daughter instead.

There’s also the aspect of her being closed off due to her knowing how cutthroat the workforce can be, especially since she’s a woman. It would make sense considering that she’s (from what I read on the wiki) based off of Elizabeth Stanton who was a revolutionary for women’s rights. There’s also the literal glass ceiling she places above Scudworth’s office in order to keep an eye on him, which is of course a reference to the metaphorical glass ceiling that keeps women from attaining higher positions of power, however in this scenario the roles are reversed since she’s the one on top. I imagine that everyone is either competition or a pawn in her eyes, and vulnerability leads to the potential of betrayal. The only reason she allows herself to love her reptiles is because they are physically unable to betray her.

That’s about all I have to say right now, but I just find her to be wildly fascinating and honestly I was surprised to see she isn’t more popular in the fandom. Like I imagine people saw her and went “yeah that’s simp bait” and turned the other way, and to be fair that’s what I thought too until I accidentally fell in love with her, whoopsie daisy. But there is SO much more to her character than just being a massive bitch and also thicc as shit (amen 🙏), she’s so interesting even from what little information we’re given about her. She deserves more love as a character, I might draw fan art at some point.

[bookwormscififan]

Rutting Around

Read on AO3!

Read Hybrids and Humans

Read I Would Destroy Our World

A/N: With the threat of the facility destroyed, Jackie's instincts begin to kick in.

Warnings: Smut. A whole lotta it.

--

“Phan…” Turning around, Phantom’s smile faded as he took in Jackie’s appearance, immediately getting up to hold the hybrid and pausing when Jackie whined.

“What’s wrong, honey? What happened? What do you need me to do?”

Jackie’s hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, pupils blown wide as he breathed shallowly, cheeks flushed red and ears folded slightly. He looked up at Phantom, hands tangling into his shirt as his knees buckled, and he tilted his head to peck Phantom’s lips.

“Bedroom. Please.”

Phantom helped Jackie to their room, setting him in the bed before standing to wait for more instructions, yelping softly when Jackie pulled him into the bed beside him. The hybrid’s skin was fever-hot, hands grasping at his body with a sense of desperation.

“What’s going on?”

“Fuck, y-you know animals have-have ruts, right?” Jackie struggled to get out, fumbling at his hoodie to remove it, sighing when Phantom helped him. “I-I get them, too, and it’s happening… right now.”

“Oh. Do you want me to help?” Instead of an answer, Jackie practically jumped Phantom, kissing him heatedly as he clawed at his clothes, eager to completely wreck the human for a week.

----

It was strange the things that returned when trauma gets defeated.

Jackie sat in bed humming quietly to himself as he flicked through some of Phantom’s books, disregarding the warm itch in his lower belly until it became persistent, then he lifted his head sharply, eyes wide. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he hurriedly tugged his jumper off before moving to the door.

“Phan?” he called, tilting his head as he waited for a response, concern fading into relief as Phantom climbed the stairs toward him.

“What’s up, honey?” Phantom asked, brow furrowed as he took in Jackie’s appearance. “Jackie, go sit in the bed.” Following the hybrid into the bedroom, Phantom closed the door and dug through his desk for his notebook.

“Phan…” Jackie whined, rocking his hips into empty air as he squirmed on the bed, heart pounding as he looked at Phantom. “Please…”

“Hold on, honey,” Phantom soothed, flipping through the book. “It’s been a while, and I need to make sure I’ve got the right conclusion.” Perching on the edge of the bed, he skimmed the entry in the notebook, tilting his head to give Jackie access to his neck.

Jackie has ruts like raccoons. Expect a week of hot and heavy touches, when he’ll be insatiable until he’s filled you to bursting. He also is incredibly soft during this week, and his purrs are the sweetest thing to hear after a rough time in the sheets.

Make sure to have water and food handy. Jackie said the ruts happen once a year for him, so there is time to prepare before the next one.

Recommended to keep a pack of wipes in the bedside drawer, because in the time it takes to go to the bathroom for a towel he’ll be needing another round.

“Jackie, when did you last have your rut?” Phantom asked, turning and resting his hands on Jackie’s thighs. He watched as the raccoon paused, face scrunching up as he tried to sift through clouded thoughts to remember.

“T-The last time was with you,” he gasped, dropping his head onto Phantom’s shoulder. “T-They didn’t come at the facility… stress, I think.” He keened when Phantom slid a hand up his side, rocking into the touch and whining when he couldn’t get pressure where he really needed it.

“Are you sure you’re alright with me helping you?” Pulling away, Phantom looked into Jackie’s eyes with concern, waiting for verbal consent. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me,” Jackie breathed, taking Phantom’s hands and lacing their fingers together. “You know me, you remember everything. I trust you, Phantom. Please, please help me.” His eyes darkened as he glanced at Phantom’s lips, and the human couldn’t find it in himself to resist.

“Let me just tell Mare what’s going on and get some water, then I’ll help you,” he said, giving Jackie a brief kiss before climbing out of the bed. “While I’m gone, get yourself ready. I’ll buy you new clothes if you rip these ones, just make yourself comfortable.”

----

“Mare, I need you to put your pants on and go into town for supplies,” Phantom said, knocking on Mare’s bedroom door while tapping his foot, anxious to get back to Jackie. “We’re going to need a lot of water and food. Jackie likes chocolate, so get a few packs of cookies, okay?” He waited as he heard rustling, rolling his eyes at Mad’s confused chattering from inside, then the door opened slightly.

“Why can’t you get the supplies?”

“I don’t have time to explain, Mare. I just need you to get enough supplies to last us the week, then I’ll tell you everything you need to know afterward.”

“But—”

“I have to get back to Jackie. Remember: water, cookies, energy bars. Leave them at the door to my bedroom when you get back.” He turned and left before Mare could ask any more questions, ignoring Mad’s quiet calls from the room.

----

“Never thought I’d get to see this again,” Phantom commented as he returned to the bedroom, closing the door behind him and taking in the sight of Jackie naked on the bed, cock in hand and stroking it in time with the thrusts of his fingers in his ass. He paused to look at Phantom, eyes dark, before letting out an exaggerated moan.

“Phan…” he whined when Phantom grabbed his wrists, pulling his hands away from his cock and hole, before lubing his own fingers and slipping them into him, pressing a kiss to Jackie’s lips as he guided the raccoon onto his back.

“It’s alright, honey, I’ve got you,” Phantom whispered, wrapping a hand around Jackie’s cock and stroking it slowly, pressing kisses to his jaw as he added another finger, smiling at Jackie’s moan. “Now, love, do you want me to fuck you first, or do you want to fuck me?”

“Ngh, P-Phan, I-I want—” Jackie cut himself off with a groan as he came, covering his stomach in mess and squirming when Phantom kept moving his hand, weakly batting at the human to make him move away. “G-Give me a minute, then I wanna open you up nice and good, babe.”

“Mm, that sounds like a plan,” Phantom hummed, wiping his hands on a towel he’d plucked from the back of a chair on his way back before standing up, hands going to the buttons of his shirt. “How about I give you a show?”

When Jackie nodded, Phantom began to slowly sway his hips as he unbuttoned his shirt, making eye contact with Jackie while peeling his shirt off his shoulders, winking at the hungry look in Jackie’s eyes. Licking his lips, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling them down slowly to reveal the smooth skin of his lower stomach before turning around.

Jackie’s hitched breath as he pulled the sweats down over his ass was better than he expected, shimmying out of the pants the rest of the way before turning back to face Jackie, teasingly slowly pushing his boxers down and grinning as Jackie’s gaze got impossibly darker. Climbing onto the bed and into Jackie’s lap, Phantom ground his hips down a little before catching Jackie’s lips in a deep kiss, humming when Jackie’s hands kneaded at his ass.

“I’ve missed this,” Phantom sighed, threading his fingers into Jackie’s hair with one hand while nudging the bottle of lube into his hands with his other, lifting himself enough for Jackie to press a slick finger against him. “Missed being touched by you, missed your fingers, god, I missed you…”

Jackie breathed against the crook of Phantom’s neck, scraping his teeth against his pulse point and pausing as a slight wave of grief washed over him at the loss of his fangs. Shaking his head slightly, he gently pushed a finger into Phantom, sucking a dark mark into his throat as Phantom groaned, nails digging into his shoulders.

“You still taste the same,” Jackie said against Phantom’s skin, adding another finger and gently stretching the human. “Mine, my Phantom…” running his tongue across the mark he’d made, Jackie guided Phantom to lay back, pumping three fingers inside him before pulling them out slowly.

Phantom bit back a whine as he watched Jackie coat himself, squirming when the raccoon ran his hands up his thighs to grasp his hips and line himself up. As if on instinct, Phantom’s hands snapped to Jackie’s shoulders, digging his nails into the skin as Jackie slowly pushed in, sharing his groan until he bottomed out.

“S-So good, Jackie,” Phantom panted, watching the way Jackie’s pupils seemed to get larger at the praise, running his hands down Jackie’s back to massage the base of his tail as he leaned up to kiss him. “D-Don’t hold back, love, take what you need.”

A look of worry flashed across Jackie’s face, biting his lip before Phantom clenched around him, and suddenly his worries disappeared. Pulling almost all the way out, Jackie snapped his hips forward, heart thudding at Phantom’s loud moan that only served to spur him on, thrusting into him hard and fast and digging bruises into Phantom’s hips.

“Jackie, yes, yes, right there! That’s perfect, babe!” Phantom didn’t hold back his moans as Jackie pounded into him, making the bed creak from the force of his thrusts as he lifted a hand to entwine his fingers with Phantom’s. “God, you’re so good, Jackie…”

“Mine,” Jackie panted, nosing at the crook of Phantom’s neck before kissing there, soft whines sounding in the back of his throat as he ran non-existent fangs over the skin. “Mine. Forever, my Phan, mine, I love you…”

Phantom nodded wordlessly, holding back his own tears as Jackie slowed down, pressing his fingers against Jackie’s tail to urge him on, kissing at the sides of his head to soothe him. Pulling back just enough to tilt his head, Phantom pressed his lips to Jackie’s in a deep kiss, hoping to distract him.

“Yours, forever,” he whispered against Jackie’s lips, pressing their foreheads together as he came, arching his back slightly and humming as Jackie continued to thrust, kissing him again as he slowed his hips to a stop. “I’m always gonna love you, Jackie. I’m always gonna be yours.”

Jackie adjusted his grip on Phantom’s hips, giving him a concerned look before pulling out, pressing Phantom’s thighs together and slipping his cock between them. Leaning down to mouth at Phantom’s neck and chest again, he resumed his harsh pace, biting down on the human’s shoulder as he came with a groan.

Sated for the moment, Jackie slowly pulled out, pressing open mouthed kisses to every inch of Phantom’s skin he could reach. He used a wipe to clean Phantom, paying special attention to his hole as he checked for damage, then proceeded to kiss his hips and thighs, stopping to rest his cheek against Phantom’s hipbones, looking at him with exhausted yet loving eyes.

Phantom propped himself up on an elbow, running his fingers through Jackie’s hair and scratching behind his ears, offering him a tired smile. His bones hummed with a pleasant ache, combing fingers through the dark brown strands of hair on the man sleeping against his hip, looking at the expanse of patches across his back.

“Those are new,” he whispered, trailing his hand down the back of Jackie’s neck to trace around one of the patches, watching Jackie shift slightly under his touch. “Absolutely beautiful, though.”

----

Phantom opened his eyes slowly, looking over the chest he was resting his head on, laying on top of Jackie with his lower half straddling the raccoon’s hips, Jackie’s tail tickling his waist. It had been a few days since Jackie’s rut started, and he was starting to ease out of the worst of it.

“Hey,” Jackie’s voice was a low rumble, fingers combing through Phantom’s hair as he wriggled slightly under him, rutting his cock against his ass. “How are you feeling?” His eyes were a rich royal blue as Phantom looked at him, cheeks flushed with need yet still making sure he was alright, which made Phantom’s heart melt.

“I should be asking you that,” Phantom tapped a finger against Jackie’s nose with a smile. Still stretched from their earlier activities, he wasted no time in shifting his hips slightly so Jackie could slowly push inside him, eyes rolling with a groan. “It’s almost over, isn’t it?”

“We’ll probably be all done by tonight,” Jackie mumbled, gently rocking his hips to thrust slowly into Phantom, gripping his hips tightly. “I’ll be happy to have a shower after this is done. Wipes can only do so much.”

“I did offer to give you a sponge bath, but you rejected it.” Phantom’s jab lost its venom as Jackie angled his hips to make him see stars. “A shower does sound nice, though. Maybe I could wash your hair and brush your tail.”

Jackie pressed his lips to Phantom’s forehead, stilling as he came, whimpering as Phantom continued to roll his hips to chase his own end, collapsing on Jackie’s chest when he finished, ignoring the mess on their stomachs.

“I love you, Phantom,” Jackie sighed, pressing his thumb against the crook of Phantom’s neck, the spot where he’d bite him to claim him if he still had his fangs. “I’ve always loved you, even when they tried to make me hate you.”

“I know,” Phantom lifted his head enough to kiss Jackie’s lips, ducking his head onto his shoulder. “If anyone tries to take you from me again, I’ll kill them. I’m never letting you go.”

----

“You’ve got some explaining to do,” Mare hissed as Phantom left his room the next day, pushing his glasses up his nose and folding his arms. “You two haven’t left the room in almost a week, and I’m glad my room is far enough away to not hear your moans almost all day.”

“Jackie was in rut,” Phantom muttered, making a beeline down the stairs to the kitchen, knowing Mare would follow him. “Hybrids can have mating cycles like their animal counterparts, and Jackie’s returned because his body deemed it safe again.”

“Wait, what the hell are you talking about?”

“He’s not gonna get pregnant, nor am I, don’t worry about that,” Phantom chuckled as he made two mugs of coffee. “It’s just… a very good week once a year. I’ll be happy to help you when Mad’s kicks in.” With a smirk, he left Mare spluttering in the kitchen, sending Mad a wink as he passed him on the stairs.

Mad tilted his head, watching Phantom disappear into his room, before digging his toes into the ground, cheeks flushing as he finally registered what the twins had been talking about.

-------------------------

@iamvegorott @brokentimewatch @rattyboyisemo @dungeon-dragons-dragons

[kindheart525]

At her friends’ urging, Blue Velvet wasted little time coming up with a plan to make a move on Varmint. She knew that the best way to the mare’s heart was snakes so she adopted one of her own, a cute little cornsnake named Precious. Upon going to Varmint for advice on how to care for her, it wasn’t long before she was being led down to the basement where she kept her snakes.

Her basement of snakes! It was like Varmint was letting her read her diary!

Varmint Venom turned to Blue and gestured towards the snake.

“I can help ya find the right food for lil’ Precious here quicker than a jackrabbit on the run! What else can I do ya for?”

Blue could listen to Varmint talk for hours, but she knew she was going to have to be cunning if she wanted to fluster someone as cool and collected as her, especially since they were in her territory. 

She wasn’t scared of snakes per se, but this was all new to her and a lot of these snakes were a lot bigger than Precious. 

"Well...I-"

She stammered over her words as she began to study Varmint’s face, the content and almost stoic look on her face making her feel like her stomach was full of glitter. She probably looked like a blueberry just about now. 

Blue took one too many steps back however, feeling something big and thick behind her. 

"GAIA HELP ME WHAT IS THAT!?"

“Oh! That’s Brenda!”

Varmint laughed. Oh Gaia, that laugh...it only made Blue’s heart flutter more.

“She’s a real escape artist, that rascal. Looks like I gotta fix her tank again. Watch yer step or she’ll—look out!”

The thick snake began to wrap around Blue’s hind legs and she had to admit now that she was absolutely ballistic. She swung from side to side in an attempt to get her off of her but that only made Brenda constrict tighter.

Oddly enough, she also began to think of how Varmint must be feeling, seeing her treat her babies like this...as much sense as it did make. So like the fool in love that she was, she began to say stupid shit. 

"Oh! She...she’s so smart—AGH—I don’t mean to be rude to uh….her, she’s beautiful!"

Her rambling didn’t make it any easier for Varmint to help her out so Blue was very quickly backed up right under her.

“Whoa there, Nelly! The more ya wiggle the tighter she’ll squeeze! Easy now.”

She put a comforting hoof on Blue’s back to hold her still and used the other to gently unwind the snake.

“Y’see, that’s the thing with a lotta these critters. Long as you stay calm and handle ‘em well they won’t hurt ya. Brenda’s just as stirred up as you with all yer thrashin’. I reckon ya learned that before ya got Precious, but it’s easy to forget when yer a newbie.”

By the time the snake was taken off of her, Blue was on the floor of the basement pouting. Her efforts only served to make her look like she didn’t know how to properly care for her pet. 

Precious was really growing on her so she did do research, she swore it! 

Varmint just…made it so easy to forget things. 

That’s it! Blue spent a lot of time playing stupid and a lot of time actually being, well, more lost than she should be. So if she was going to get anywhere she needed to get up and do something. So get up and do something she did. 

She got her footing stable and got up close and personal with Varm, not uncomfortably but enough that she had to look into Blue’s eyes and watch her eyelashes flutter sweetly as she spoke. 

“Earlier you asked me if there was anything you could do me for-“

She stopped to giggle at her own innuendo. 

“-but I think I should be asking you that.“~

Varmint had to do a double take before she realized what Blue was doing but when it did, she was caught way off guard.

“Um- uh-“

She stammered.

“Are...are you flirtin’ with me?”

”A humble mare can admit when she’s been caught slacking, so I have to say I was trying to this whole time.” 

When Blue was confident in herself she could probably get anypony to do anything, her voice soft and gentle but so precise what she was saying was almost lurid in nature. She was a lantern that ponies found themselves drawn too.

She did have an eye for detail after all. 

”Is there a problem with that? I thought a big strong mare like yourself could handle it...but if I’m too much for you...”

Varmint took a moment to process the situation and get over her initial surprise but when she did, she smirked seductively.

“I don’t reckon there’s a problem at all.”

She said in a sexy drawl.

“You know I can handle anything. But you gotta learn to handle Brenda or ya might not be able to handle me.”~

Blue Velvet was more than pleased to see her affections returned. She knew when to play hard to get, and she wanted to keep Varmint around for a long time so this wasn’t going to be a one and done operation. 

Leaning in much closer this time she whispered,

”Unlike Brenda I constrict when relaxed.”~

She punctuated her sentence with a quick peck to Varmint’s lips, using the shock to travel up the stairs and head out. 

”See you later Venny!”

~~~~~~~~~~

Previous: Girl Talk Next: PDA

[gunslinginnhogtyin]

Breathing out a sigh, he prepared himself for the difficult discussion at hand… not so much because of her but because it was probably hard to understand for someone on the outside.

“Back in the day—er…back in my time, I… see, I ain’t s’posed t’ be here. I’m from the 19th century.” He tries to explain, his words not coming out as seamlessly as he would have liked. “Back then I had a friend… a partner. Love of my life, really. We did all sortsa things together, but we were always on th’ run. It didn’t matter f’we tried t’do good, it always felt like no one else was on our side so we… did a lotta crime together. It was th’ only way t’get by at th’ time… I can’t say I’m too proud ‘f some of it but ya gotta do what ya gotta do.” He shrugs, already dreading the fact that he’s unloading this information onto poor Eileen but he was in too deep now.

“Anyhow, that partner I told ya about? She was… actually a witch. Big reason why we were on th’ run in the first place, next t’ me, of course. One day things were fine an’ the next she comes to me in a panic an’ traps me in this magic book she always carries with ‘er. Place wasn’t unfamiliar but spendin’ a long stretch ‘f time in unsafe territory with a bunch’a demons n’ ghouls n’ whatever else was in there…” he shudders at the thought. “…It’ll take a toll on ya. Man, I thought I was goin’ crazy. Time didn’t exist there. Made me rethink so much, but I still held out, hopin’ she would come lookin’ fer me…or let me out, atleast. It didn’t happen.” Not once during his speech does he look at her, too embarrassed to do so. He knew his current demeanor was unusual—it was unusual to him as well, as it was much easier just to drown out his sorrows with alcohol and other pleasures life had to offer… it was easier to look on the right bright side instead of facing the truth, and the truth was: he felt like life had lost what meaning it might have had when his ex partner was apart of it.

“A relative’f hers let me out… by accident. She’s dead now. Darlene is…” He trails off, another sigh escaping him as he tries to keep his breathing regulated. He was not going to cry over this again. He closes his eyes and shakes his head. He didn’t know with 100% certainty for that to be the truth but it was safe to assume after more than a hundred years had passed that she was deceased.

“Things ain’t been th’ same since, an’… I just wish I knew why, ya know? I don’t…feel…like I belong here. Nothin’ makes sense anymore.”

She doesn't question it— eyes following the man as subject of his past affairs come to light . Butch carried himself rather proudly , never hesitating in the moment even if the task creates a foreseeable tragedy . So , why now ? Reluctance isn't a word in his vocabulary , which makes her even more curious as to what's troubling him .

Heeled boots shuffle against the gravel , minding their step before taking a seat opposite of him on the mineral's surface . Albeit with less grace . Crossing one leg over , leaning slightly .

❝ I got nowhere else to be today . ❞

A simple response is all she gives .

[bloomyagi]

bleed me dry (m)

summary: where Itadori is your bottom-loving boyfriend and Sukuna reluctantly learns this vessel is the real curse. or: where seduction is a dangerous game, and the King of Curses loses.

pairings: itadori x f!reader, sukuna x f!reader

warnings: subby itadori, sub sukuna (yeah you read that right), light bondage, blindfolds, sukuna’s havin a whole ‘reconsidering life’s meaning’ moment, lotta swear cause u know sukuna things, coming untouched, he faints (yeah you also read that right) and is actually unabashed about it, all things considered

length: 1,432

notes: what? me? obsessed with jjk? that doesn’t sound like me at all! 

.

.

.

His vessel is in love.

The word curdles in his mouth, tastes like ash. He has never known such a thing. It is part of his nature, he muses absently. Hardened from centuries of death and decay. Of destruction and war. He revels in it. Feels the most alive amongst the chaos.

But that’s the point. Curses can feel. They can have emotional attachment. Can’t you see? In so many ways, they’re not so different from us. He thinks you’re too loud. Your thoughts and beliefs are too loud. They’re also pointless and naïve, and he likes to pop by just to drive it home.

Hello, Sukuna. Where is the fear? Where is the resentment, the anger? The disgust? He enjoys it. But you—you just sit there and coax him into conversation like he’s another one of your classmates. Like he can’t crush your windpipe with a single flick of his hand. Like he isn’t the slow bleed of a death sentence for your lover. Like he isn’t anything at all. Like his titles and powers are stripped. What is he beyond it all? Who is he?

You ask about him sometimes. He rarely gives any indication he’s listening, but he does. Of course he does. There’s not much to do, bound and locked in this pink-haired boy. He lounges on this throne and watches his vessel pine and blush.

Sukuna watches his vessel fuck his fist and mewl your name every night.

It’s sad. “Brat,” he hisses. “Grow some balls. This is just pathetic.”

Itadori swallows. “Oh. Can you—?”

Sukuna shoves him off the ledge. A faint yelp travels, followed by a large splash. “Fuck her already. All this sitting and plotting is making my ass itch. If you won’t, I will.”

“You wouldn’t.” Sukuna tilts his head to peer down. Itadori’s eyes are narrowed, uncharacteristically solemn.

His lips bare into a slow grin. “Try me.”

Itadori blinks once. And then vanishes.

.

.

.

Fuck. It’s the only coherent thought his muddled mind can pierce together. He gazes down at his palm, opening and closing languidly. His vision is blurry, spine tingling. He raises the other hand, reaching for his palm.

Mmm. He shakes his head firmly. The sharp tinge of metallic and iron coating his tongue clears the fog a little. The pain fades quickly, muted from his years of conquest and ruin.

Every nerve is on fire. His skin, this flesh cage, burns, an unfamiliar heat curling in his lower stomach. Sukuna is no stranger to the pleasures of the flesh—is well-acquainted, spent much of the centuries indulging in his vast harems. In the haze of blood and carnage, there is the memory of writhing bodies, of soft thighs and breasts, of glazed eyes and cries of his name. Of women fucked into wanton abandon, bred and lost in the worship of his cock.

But this. This heat is foreign in every sense. In its strange intensity and all-encompassing hold. All his senses are heightened but laser focused on the other pair of hands mapping his body. On the addicting sensations they’re inducing.

Can you—? Yes. Yes, he fucking can. He can feel everything and he wants to wrap his hand around your throat and squeeze.

His eyes roll back. Ngh.

“Fucking wench,” he snarls. You’re a fuckin’ tease and if you edge him again, he is going to murder—

“Ah, ah. Watch your language, Sukuna. Ask nicely.”

He jolts. Finds his eyes cloaked in darkness, arms tied to his back and legs spread. Bare, save for a pair of briefs that’s slick and restricting. Kneeling. The sheets bunch beneath him. Every muscle in his body is tensed, body coated in a thin layer of sweat.

This position—!

“That brat—mmph!” Is that a fucking—gag? Did you just gag him? He struggles harder against the binds, but he feels your lips curl into a smile where you’re suckling against the column of his neck.

“You’re powerless here. The binds will restrict you for the next twenty-four hours … unless you can be good.” You trace the thick knots, smiling only growing at the way he lets out a muffled growl.

Every fucking sense is heightened tenfold. He’s on firefirefire. The flames consuming him inside out, like he’s being exorcised from within.  

It’s humiliating. It’s exhilarating. It feels—

“King of Curses. I want you to beg.” You’re a witch. You’re enthralling. Temptation incarnate. His head falls forward, chest heaving.

“Mmmmf!”

“What a dirty mouth,” you murmur, and his struggling is renewed when he feels your fingers dig into his thighs.

Oi, brat, he growls. What the hell is this?

His vessel is silent, but the back of his mind prickles. He’s watching. That freaky little shit.

“So stubborn. Let go. You’re good at that, aren’t you?” Fuckfuckfuck, you’re palming his cock over the thin fabric. Maybe it’s been a while, maybe there’s a little more truth lurking beneath it, but he vaguely notes he’s never been so hard before.

You—! You’re fuckin’ burning his briefs off. Ash tickles his nose. A small part of him thinks it’s hot. His cock throbs, and even without visual confirmation, he knows you’ve paused at the sheer size. His mouth curls into a lopsided smirk, dark pride making his chest swell. What was he so worked up for? You’ll just end being another one of his breeding bitches, fucked stupid by his thick, long cock.

But then you pinch his left nipple, twisting harshly. Electricity courses through him and a sound he’s never heard in his absurdly long life escape his lips, muffled by the gag. His back arcs, head hitting the mattress beneath him.

His mind blanks, eyes rolling back as white noise fills his ears.

.

.

.

He rouses slowly.

He blinks lethargically at the ceiling, gaze unfocused. Everything feels muted, limbs heavy like he’s swimming in a pool of ink. But he’s not restrained anymore. There’s a blur of movement in the corner of his eye.

He turns his head to peer at you, half-lidded.

“That’s a very nice expression,” you chuckle, moving to sit by his side. The mattress dips lightly. He lifts a hand to tug at the hem of your outfit, expression twisting at the staggering movement.

“That’s a very nice look on you,” he murmurs in response. You’re wearing one of his vessel’s dress shirts, the oversized fabric falling mid-thigh. It simultaneously swallows you and presses against your curves. Something inside him stirs. His throat feels shot, even though he knows he hasn’t had much of a chance to speak.

You help him sit up, propped against the headrest, before offering him a glass of water. His lips lift into a half-smirk and you sigh, shaking your head but acquiescing. You take a mouthful before kissing him. Water dribbles down his chin.

You wipe it away with a half-fond, half-exasperated expression. His chest tightens.

“How long—?” He tries to move, but you stop him with a firm hand. He’s conflicted at the way his body responds immediately to the touch. His temperature flares despite his obvious fatigue.

“A few hours. I asked if Yuuji would keep you out until you woke.”

There’s a pause, and the knowing look in your eye tells him you know he’s mulling it over.

And then—

He reaches for you, and you set the glass aside to climb on his lap.

He bares his fangs. “Then let’s make the most of it.”

As you press him into the bed, tongue stroking his in such a manner his brain is starting to haze over again quickly, he thinks, brat, we’re going to have a long talk after this.

Sukuna doesn’t expect an answer after his vessel’s continued vigil, so he starts when Itadori replies, she’s ours.

I don’t share, he slurs. He thinks he sees a flicker of Itadori’s grin.

You’re going to have to. Because you like her, too. And she’s the one in control, not either of us.

Dimly, Sukuna acknowledges he’s right. You might be the one bouncing on his cock, but he’s not the one fucking you, you’re the one fucking him.

Fine, he gasps as you run your nails down his abdomen. Deal.

Good, his vessel says. Because I’m next, and you better not get in the way.

He growls, eyebrows knitting.

Your smile only grows.

[dreamingticklee]

Tickle Ache

A/N: fic number 4! just a lotta fluff over here lol

Fandom: Our Flag Means Death

Pairing: Lee!Ed, Ler!Stede

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: Ed is in a mood. Stede has just the fix!

...

Stede could sense that Ed was in a grumpy mood. He was walking around with a frustrated gait, sighing in irritation, and overall appeared to be bothered by something. So, to Stede's suggestion, the two were currently relaxing in the captain's quarters with Stede reading a book on his bed and Ed laying on the couch. Maybe a little break away from the crew was all Ed needed.

As Stede's eyes scanned the words on the page, he kept looking over and noticing Ed constantly shifting around, as if he couldn't get comfortable. Whatever was bothering him had followed him here, too. 'Did I do something to upset him?' Stede couldn't help but now feel whatever this was about was his fault. Deciding it was time to get to the bottom of it, Stede set his book down.

"Ed, dear, what's wrong?"

Stede's soft voice rippled like a caress through the tension in the air. Ed turned his head to look over at Stede from the couch and saw his kind eyes matching the sweet tone of his voice. But, in Ed's nature, he defaulted to trying to play it off.

"Hmm? Oh, uh, nothing. I'm fine."

Stede tilted his head. "I know that's not true."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Stede slowly stood from the bed and started to walk over to the couch, "You've been grumbling all day and can't seem to relax. Like you're angry about something." Stede sat his way down on the edge of the couch by Ed's legs, putting a gentle hand on the knee next to him. "I just want to help fix it. If I did something to upset you, you can tell me-"

Ed cut him off. "No, no, Stede. You didn't do anything."

A look of relief crossed Stede's face. Honestly, the last thing he'd want is for Ed to be mad at him. But if it wasn't something he did...

"Then what is it, love?"

"It's just...ughhh..."

"Ed, it's okay." Stede gave his knee a little rub of encouragement.

Ed let out a sigh and crossed his arms over his chest. He was supposed to be a pirate, and pirates don't complain about this type of stuff. They don't let it affect them. Pirates don't whine.

Ed pouted. "...my tummy hurts."

Stede paused for a moment, but then couldn't help but let out a huff of a laugh. "Ooh, is that all then?"

"Steeeede, it really does hurt." Ed rolled over to face toward the back of the couch.

"Ed, no, I'm not trying to make fun. I just...thought it was something a little more serious, I guess. But, tummy aches? I'm good at handling those." Stede stood from his spot at Ed's legs and moved towards the end of the couch where Ed's head was currently residing. "Here, sit up for a moment."

Ed slowly sat up as Stede sat himself in the vacated space. Once Stede got himself adjusted, he placed a hand on Ed's shoulder.

"Okay, lie back down." Guiding Ed, Stede helped him settle back in his lap. "Comfy?"

"Yeah..."

"Good." Stede smiled. He then placed a hand on Ed's belly and tenderly began to rub in a soothing back and forth motion.

It was like Stede's touch was medicine, easing the tension in his body and blocking out the pain. Ed let out a happy sigh and closed his eyes.

"Mmm...that feels nice."

Stede smiled and continued on with his rubbing for a few minutes, the two of them contently enjoying the calming silence and each other's presence. However, it came to a point where Stede decided he wanted to change it up a bit. His hand now started to rub in a circular motion, but with each time around he began slowly lifting his palm until all that was left of his hand was just light tracing finger tips.

Ed's breath hitched as his stomach muscles twitched, barely holding in a laugh.

Stede felt his mouth form into a soft smirk. "How does this feel?"

Not being able to answer without letting a giggle slip it's way out, Ed bit his lip.

"Mmmhmhhmhmhm."

"Good, yes?"

"Mmmhmhmhmm!"

"Sorry, what was that?"

Stede broke his pattern to flutter at the strip of exposed skin where Ed's shirt had ridden up, causing Ed to gasp.

"Steeeheeheheeed!" Ed's little giggles were now starting to stream from his chest.

Stede couldn't help but laugh himself. Ed just looked so cute, his fresh giggles sounding bright and childlike. And it felt good to now be seeing a smile on his face.

"Do you like this, Ed?" 

"Mmmhmhhmhheehehheeee!"

"You do?"

"Neeeheheehe n-nohohooo teheheasihihing!"

Stede playfully gasped. "No, teasing?! But it's just so fuuun!" Pausing his tickling, Stede pinched the hem of Ed's shirt with two fingers and leisurely pulled it up to his chest, revealing his whole belly.

"Steeeeeede!" Ed put his hands up to cover his face, trying to hide his blush.

"Yeees?"

"Nooohohohoo..."

"Do you want me to stop?" Stede's voice was smug.

Ed didn't answer, his anticipatory giggles enough of an indication that he was enjoying this. He just couldn't say it.

"Oh, so you want me to keep going then?"

"Mmhmhmhehehee!" Ed couldn't take Stede's teasing, his face feeling hot and red beneath his hands. 

"Then who am I to deny such an adorable request?"

Stede's fingers began lightly skittering all over Ed's belly. Not enough to make him flail or cackle with laughter, but enough to cause Ed's belly to quiver under his touch and produce a happy, airy stream of giggles. Stede just wanted to make him feel good.

Ticklish tingles danced across Ed's skin, making him lightly squirm in Stede's lap. He couldn't deny that he loved this. It felt especially nice after having only felt pain all day and, to put it simply, Stede's touch made him feel loved. He felt cared for. And until he met Stede, those were feelings he never really experienced much of. Yeah, Ed was going to let himself enjoy this. Pirate be damned.

Stede's fingers traveled down and found themselves fluttering back and forth along Ed's pantline which amplified Ed's giggles.

“Steeeeheheeede!”

"C'mon now, Ed, put your hands down and let me see your face!"

"Neeeeheheheheee!"

Stede chuckled. "You can do it!"

Playing along with Stede's game, Ed started to slowly slide his hands down, at first stopping just below his eyes and looking up at Stede.

"Ah, well look at that, you're already halfway there! Just a liiiiittle further!" Stede's fingers now moved up to lightly scribble over Ed's bellybutton.

"Eeeeeeeeehahahahahaaa!" Ed let his hands drop, his bright and joyful smile shining like it was their lighthouse.

Stede's heart swelled as his own smile matched Ed's. "There he is!" Looking at his glowing face, Ed looked just positively adorable, and Stede felt like he was about to burst with how much love he felt for him. His Edward.

After a couple more minutes of skittering around Ed's belly, Stede decided it was time to slow it down and returned back to a calming rub along with some tracing here and there. Still giggling a bit, Ed let out a content sigh.

Stede leaned down and kissed his forehead. "How are you feeling? Better?"

"Yeah," Ed smiled, "much."

______________

The following day Stede was by himself in his room, reading his book from where he left off yesterday, when a voice broke his concentration.

"...Stede?"

Stede looked up to see Ed standing near the doorway, shuffling from foot to foot in his stance.

"Yes, Ed?"

Ed was hesitant, but he continued anyway. "Um...so uh...m-my stomach. It, uh...it hurts again..." Ed stammered his way through, shifting his eyes around, avoiding direct eye contact with Stede.

Stede nearly melted. He knew Ed was feeling fine for Ed had just been up on the deck hooting and hollering while practicing his knife throwing with Jim. 

His tummy didn't hurt, he just wanted more tickles. He had a tickle ache. 

Stede gave him a fond smile.

"Dear, all you have to do is ask."

[uvobreakmylegs]

Prey

got a request for a monster!Uvo as well as a request for an Uvo fic where he chases the reader. hope it’s cool that I combined the two of them

@ramwrites​ and I are in agreement that werewolf is the best type of monster for Uvogin

werewolf!Uvogin

Warnings: death, blood, gore, body horror, little bit of smut, graphic depictions of violence, mentions of cannibalism, attempted suicide, implied kidnapping, reader does not have a good time

Thin rays of sun that were able to slip past the branches of the trees hit Uvo's back as he went about his work, placing another upright log on the now considerably worn down tree stump and bringing his axe down upon it, slicing the wood in two and tossing the pieces into the pile to his right before he grabbed another unchopped piece from the pile to the left. Based off of the sun's position in the sky, it was only a bit after midday. Uvogin had been going at this for a while now, his sweat staining the white tank he wore.

Though the sweating wasn't because the work was in any way debilitating. Any other day of the month Uvogin would've been able to chop the same amount and not even break a sweat.

No, today was different because of what was happening tonight: a full moon.

Even though the night was still a long ways off, Uvo could already feel the very beginnings of his transformation shuddering through him. Faint, but still noticable. Unfortunately, with the ever present fact that nightfall wouldn't come for hours yet, there was little he could to other than to keep himself busy and distract himself lest the anticipation kill him. So he continued to chopping the logs, even though the amount he had cut already was bordering on excessive.

In the midst of his distraction, his ears perked up when he heard the faint rumblings of a car engine. His senses of smell and hearing were always pretty good even when it wasn't close to a full moon, but those senses were ten times as sharp now, and he could clearly hear as the car came in closer and closer.

Whoever they were, they wouldn't be the first people to have approached him today. Already he'd been asked two different times for directions to the nearby campgrounds, the first time by an elderly couple who were likely well into retirement, and the second by a group of individuals who had also gotten lost. The woman from that group who went up to him told him more information than he'd needed to know, informing him of how theirs was a company sanctioned team-building retreat. She had a piece of gum in her mouth and smacked it loudly as she talked, and because of his sensitive hearing, the sound of it became distressing to the point that Uvo had to keep himself from clawing his ears off.

Everyone in that group deserved to die because of that woman alone.

Uvogin didn't stop what he was doing even when he heard the car drive past and then suddenly brake, just continuing as he was while he heard the sounds of a car door opening and someone stepping out. Words were being spoken; what was being said exactly he couldn't say, but based off of previous experience it was easy enough to guess.

The car door slammed shut and the engine rumbled again as the car began to drive further down the dirt road. It'd be back in a little bit – over that way was a dead end. But Uvogin quickly switched his focus to the footsteps he heard walking through the unmarked pathway and headed towards him.

“Excuse me?”

He heard your voice call out to him, and Uvo finally turned to face you. Upon making eye contact with him, you smiled and held up a map as you called out again “sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you could help out with some directions? We're looking for the Visca lake campgrounds, but I think we've been going around in circles.”

You didn't come any closer when you said that, though it seemed to be more out of a desire to not intrude on his space as opposed to being nervous about the axe he was holding. There was a hopeful look in your eye, though you also seemed ready to apologize for bugging him if he instead told you to fuck off.

Already he knew he liked you much better than the bitch from earlier.

“Sure,” he replied.

Uvo set the axe down and walked towards you, his hand outstretched so you could hand him your map. You smiled and handed him the map without any hesitation, coming up beside him as he unfolded it and scanned the paper so he could give you an idea of what direction you needed to go. The height difference between the two of you meant that he needed to lean down a bit as he pointed out to you the appropriate road that would get you to your destination.

“The road to the campgrounds is here,” he told you.

Despite the way he had tried to accommodate the height difference, you still needed to stand on your toes to see where he was pointing. Your arm came up briefly before you swiftly pulled it back. Like you'd been tempted to place your hand on his forearm to better balance yourself but stopped yourself since the two of you were complete strangers. Though Uvo wouldn't have minded too much if you had done so. Taking advantage of the way you were right next to him, he inhaled, memorizing your scent for later.

Uvo then moved his finger towards the left as he continued “we're around this area, so you'll want to drive back the way you came and take the first right you see. Then you'll want to take another right to get onto the campground road. As long as you don't fuck up turning, you should get to the lake in about ten minutes. Maybe less.”

“Ah, okay!” you responded, taking back your map as you looked over the route he'd pointed out to you. As you were desperate to make sure you got his directions right so you wouldn't need to be in the embarrassing situation of messing up his instructions and needing to go back to him for further clarification, you didn't notice the way he was looking you over or how he inhaled more of your scent.

Your hair smelled of something flowery, some kind of hair product you must have used that morning before you drove out here. Your clothing also had a rather soapy smell, though it wasn't as noticeable as the product in your hair. Beneath all of that, he was able to take in your natural scent that was free of any products or chemicals, as well as... Perfume? An odd choice for a camping trip, he thought. Then another smell hit him, one that surrounded you but you were definitely not the source of.

Oh.

It was the unmistakable scent of another man.

The perfume made more sense now. You'd said 'we' earlier as well, so chances were you'd come here with a boyfriend for a romantic weekend getaway and his smell has just gotten all over you after spending several hours cooped up in a car with him.

Not terribly displeasing. A boyfriend being in the picture might make things a bit more interesting.

“Okay, I think I've got it,” you said, snapping him out of his thoughts, “sorry if I took up too much of your time.”

“No problem,” he answered, “I get a lotta people asking for directions, so I'm used to it.”

“Really? That sounds like it gets annoying. Why don't they put up signs or something?” you asked.

“They do,” Uvo said, “but they usually get taken down by vandals.”

More like self-righteous teenagers who'd found out the truth about him and couldn't stand the fact that the elders of the nearby town allowed Uvogin to do as he pleased and thought they could thwart his killing sprees by taking down the signs leading to the lake, like they could save any innocent vacationers if they weren't able to find the campgrounds. Those kids had yet to learn that if they managed to deprive Uvo of his prey, he'd be forced to go to their own town and hunt there, maybe snatch up one of them or their families. The older folk in charge of the town understood that, and they'd decided that it was better to let the occasional out of town stranger be his prey than risk him coming in and picking off whatever stragglers he could find in their community.

People vacationing in the wilderness died all the time, after all.

“Vandals?” you asked. There was the slightest bit of concern in your voice, and when your eyes went slightly wide as you looked at him, he couldn't help but muse at how cute you looked like that.

“Just dumb kids,” he explained, “there's a small town a little ways back and I reckon they don't have much to do around there.”

“Ah, I see. Do you think we'll need to worry about them bothering us?”

“Nah, they wouldn't do anything,” Uvo said, “besides, they know that I'm out here today, and they know better than to bug me.”

You laughed a bit at that, any deeper meaning to his words going over your head.

“I can't blame them. If I was one of them I'd be too scared to do anything to get on your bad side.”

Uvogin just smiled.

A voice then called at the top of the path, and you both looked to see a dark-haired man around your age standing there. He called out what Uvo assumed was your name, and you waved to him, calling out a short “coming!” before you turned back to Uvogin.

“Thank you again for your help. I really appreciate it,” you told him.

“Once again, not a problem. Hope you two have a good time.”

You smiled and nodded at him, and then began to walk back over to your boyfriend. But before you had the chance to bid him goodbye, Uvogin spoke again.

“You wanna know something that's not in any visitor's guides?” he asked.

“Huh?”

He grinned at your slightly confused expression as he explained “if you go down to the southern side of the lake, there are these really beautiful cliffs in the forest. A lot of clearings that show a pretty good view of the sky, too. And it's a full moon tonight; if you want to make some memories, you should check it out when it gets dark.”

Clearly intrigued, you turned back to face him, asking “really? Why isn't that part advertised?”

“The locals want to keep parts of the lake to themselves,” he said, “but I think it's something that you might appreciate.”

“You sure you won't get in trouble for telling me?”

“Not if you don't say anything,” said Uvo, raising an eyebrow as he smirked.

“Ah, gotcha,” you said. Behind you, your boyfriend was starting to look a bit suspicious, and his lips soon formed a frown. You weren't paying him any mind at the moment.

“What's your name?” you asked.

“Uvogin.”

You held out your hand as you introduced yourself, and he humored you by giving you a handshake.

“Thank you so much for everything,” you said, “maybe we'll see you again while we're here.”

“Maybe.”

With that, you finally turned and made your way to your awaiting boyfriend, who gave Uvo one last narrowed glance before he turned his attention to you as you eagerly pulled your map back out and began to tell him the directions that had been given to you. Your boyfriend only gave one more glance towards Uvogin before focusing his full attention on you, looking over the map with you before the two of you made your way back to the car. He seemed rather boring, Uvo thought to himself. Yet before you made it back in, you stepped up and kissed your boyfriend on the cheek. Uvo saw the way your boyfriend stiffened and the blush that reached his ears as he sat down in the driver's seat to escape your random but sweet action. You laughed as you entered through the passenger's side, and Uvo kept an eye on the two of you until he saw your small, light blue car pull away and drive down the road.

When the two of you were gone, Uvo went back to chopping wood, picking the axe back up and slicing the log into two even pieces. He didn't expect that anyone else would come blundering into the forest before evening, but if they did, he wouldn't pay them much mind. If he killed every single person who came in to enjoy the lake he would quickly lose that particular food source and then need to find another area to hunt.

No, the only ones that were on the table tonight were the company group and you and your boyfriend – he wouldn't bother hunting down that elderly couple as it wouldn't be interesting in the slightest to go after them. The larger group had a good number of people in it, so there would be no need to seek out anyone else. Honestly he shouldn't even bother with the two of you, but Uvo thought of you again, thinking over every action you had taken, from the way you had approached him to how you held out your hand when you introduced yourself.

The little bit of affection you had offered to your boyfriend also came to mind but he brushed that thought away. It was unimportant, he told himself.

No, he shouldn't bother with the two of you, but he wanted to see how your naive little expression might change when you saw him next, after the moonlight had transformed him, and hear how you might scream and cry as he hunted you down.

He grinned at the thought, and when his axe came down again, it sliced the log and the stump beneath it clean through.

The true beginnings of his change had started hours ago when the sun sank past the horizon and the moon slowly rose in the night sky. Just little things, like the way his teeth began to shift in his mouth, or how the black tips of his claws were starting to show beneath his fingernails, slowly pushing up beneath the nails and trying to force themselves out so he could have an easier time tearing apart whatever unfortunate victim happened to be closest to him.

His skin was starting to shift a bit in places as well as it began to detach from the muscle beneath, and he was hit with an overwhelming urge to run outside and allow his transformation to complete so he could go wild as he always did on a full moon night.

But he waited, forcing himself to focus on the fire that was burning before him, to wait until it had gone out completely before he stepped foot out of his cabin.

It had turned into something of a ritual for him; when he had started it he could no longer remember. It was purely ceremonial, and at the heart of it he knew that it did nothing to add to his hunt, but after being alone in the woods for so long he supposed he was entitled to a bit of superstition. And at this point, it would have felt wrong to do it any other way. When the fire went out, the moon would be at the highest point in the sky, and when he left the dark cabin and bared himself to the moonlight, his werewolf form would tear through and he would track down the victims he had met earlier in the day, the ones whose scents he had remembered after he'd chosen them for his prey. Didn't matter much in what order he got them, just whatever scent he came across first.

Although maybe tonight it mattered a little bit. If he could manage it, Uvogin wanted you to be the last one to die tonight. After the group from the company retreat and your bland looking boyfriend, he'd hoped he could then have you for last. Something about that made him feel like that would be the only appropriate ending to the night.

But that all depended if he could manage to remember that after he'd transformed.

The light of the fire was growing more dim, and he was having a harder time sitting still, his entire body itching to burst through the cabin door and let the moonlight take him.

Not yet, he told himself.

But soon.

Those black claws were showing a bit more now, and at least two of his fingernails had popped off, blood coating his fingertips as his hands clenched onto the skin of his legs. That same skin shifted once more as he did so, and after a few moments he felt something trickling down his thigh, and when he glanced down he could see in the faint glimmer of firelight the hole in his skin that he'd torn open, and the dark fur beneath the human flesh that was still covered and the blood dripping down his leg.

Not yet not yet not yet

A few more agonizing minutes later that had seemed endless in his mind, and finally the fire he'd begun earlier was reduced to a smoulder, the flames dying out and the wood glowing red as the fire reached the end of its life.

Now

No sooner had he thought that Uvogin had thrown open the cabin door and ran out into the woods that surrounded him, bare as he gazed up at the full moon as he allowed himself the moment that he'd been holding off on.

There were multiple changes simultaneously and Uvogin was barely able to comprehend all of what was happening to him because of it. There was always a pain that accompanied his transformation, and while it was a pain that he was used to at this point, it was pain nonetheless.

At the sight of the moon his green eyes turned yellow and his pupils narrowed into slits, while the bones in his body began to shift and grow. It started with his spine, extending and pushing out through his skin and almost causing a ripple effect through his whole body. His bones were snapping and stretching beneath his skin, growing as his muscles were expanding and making him into even more of a giant than he already was. Claws on his hands and feet tore through the flesh that surrounded them as those parts of him extended, the skin ripping open and allowing more of the fur that was hidden underneath to show through.

When he felt the flesh around his shoulders stretch out in an attempt to accommodate the transformation he sped up the process by reaching up and tearing it away with his own fingers, the black claws easily ripping in and pulling the skin away like a latex glove. Soon the skin that had been on his arms sat around him in pieces on the grass and he began the same process with his chest and legs, tearing away his flesh in messy strips and allowing the fur that had formed on his body to be exposed, matted with blood and looking almost black in the light of the moon.

His skull went through the same process as the rest of his body, and he felt his face crack into several different pieces before the bones began to remold themselves and pushed outward, taking the shape of a wolf's muzzle while his teeth extended and shifted to fit properly in his newly formed mouth. When his ears began twisting and pushing upwards into sharp points was when he tore at the skin on his face, pulling it off as he had done with the rest and throwing it to the forest floor.

When the last of his human flesh had been removed, his transformation was complete. The man who had stepped out of that cabin was gone and replaced with a large, bipedal wolf whose yellow eyes dilated as he looked up once more to the moon. Lifting his head up, he arched his back as he let out a howl loud enough that echoed through the woods and across the surface of the lake. Those that heard it in the nearby town quietly whispered their prayers to whichever gods they worshiped while those who were visiting the lake's campsite merely marveled at the sound.

If Uvo was in a different mindset he might have thought of you in that moment, and what you might be thinking when you heard him. If you had any clue of the danger you were in.

But in this moment, there was no thought of you or even saving you for last as he had tried to so hard to ingrain into himself. There was no thought of doing this in any order or trying to end the night correctly as he had mused about earlier.

The only thing going through Uvogin's mind was the need to kill.

As luck would have it, he'd managed to kill the ones from that company first.

There had been more of them. More that were wandering around their campsite, more that were talking amongst themselves, and in general just making more noise that, combined with their scents from earlier, allowed him to find them first.

There were actually more of them in that group than he'd anticipated, and as he killed off the last woman in the group, gum falling from her mouth as he twisted her head completely around. Uvo then looked around at the carnage he'd left in his wake. It was hard to tell with the way they were all in pieces now, but the number of people group had easily been in the double digits. That would probably cause a bit of trouble, as it would be hard to try and cover this up. This would easily make the news. Annoying, as Uvo would need to make sure to lay low for a bit, and it could possibly lower the amount of potential victims in the area when the next full moon came.

But it had still been worth it.

Uvogin felt more like himself again now that the murderous urges had been sated. Able to think a bit more clearly, more rationally. And he was able to remember you and what he'd hoped for early on. He could imagine it: your scared expression as you watched him kill your boyfriend before he slaughtered you like the rest, your screams cutting short as he bit into the skin of your neck and tore out your throat.

Now that his hunger was taken care of, he left the campsite of the now-dead group. Right now all he wanted was to find you and your boyfriend.

Remembering what he had told you of the southern side of the lake, he took a gamble as he headed off in that direction, making his way through the woods at speeds much faster than a regular human would be capable of. He stopped when he felt the wind blowing again, and lifted his nose in the air, trying to see if he catch anything.

….. There

It was faint. Very faint, but he managed to catch a familiar human scent.

He turned and headed off in your direction. It was too far away to get your exact location, but it was enough that he could get at least an idea of where you were.

Continuing towards the south side of the lake, he stayed close to the shoreline until he found your little blue car from earlier parked close to the lake, a tent set up not too far off from it. Your scent became a bit more clear as he came closer, and yet when stopped to scan the area, his eyes looking for the slightest bit of movement and his ears straining to hear any bit of noise, he couldn't find you.

A bit annoying, but based off of the way the two of you had left things, you should still be in the area. It was just a matter of hunting you down.

Uvo stalked about the campsite, just in case he missed something while also puncturing two of the tires on your car and cutting off that potential escape route. Satisfied that neither of you were on the site or next to the water, he walked back into the woods, following after the little bits of that fragrance he'd latched onto.

As he walked, he thought to himself with some amusement that you'd actually taken up his suggestion. Uvogin had found that most people didn't bother, either because they were too dedicated to the plans they'd made before arriving or because they didn't trust that the landscape was as beautiful as he'd made it out to be. In fairness, it mostly all looked the same to him, but there had just been something about that particular bit of campground that made him enjoy hunting there more. So it was even more perfect that the two of you had ended up there. Most likely you were just doing what you felt like and didn't feel like adhering to any particular schedule.

His ears perked up as he heard a low voice in the distance. Not yours. Probably your boyfriend, then. Focusing himself so he could move silently, Uvogin weaved through the trees, his eyes searching for you while he listened for more noise from either of you.

When he heard your voice next, he had definitely gotten closer. Your voice had sounded odd, though. Almost breathless.

He found the two of you in a larger clearing that stood beneath one of the cliffs he had spoken of. You were laying with your back on the grass, dressed in a swimsuit with only a shirt over it. Your boyfriend was in a similar state with the moonlight falling onto his bare back, and it looked like both of you were a bit wet, some drops of water still on your skin and hair still damp. So the two of you had gone swimming before you wandered over to this area to mess around.

You said something to him before the two of you shared a kiss, and you moaned into it when he slipped his hand under your shirt to grab at your chest.

It certainly wasn't the first time Uvo had come across a pair of lovers in the woods. Such encounters usually ended with one or both betraying the other, as several times in the past one would push the other into Uvo's path in an attempt to save themselves after having a passionate make-out session only moments before.

Uvogin stepped out from the treeline and waited for one of you to notice him. You let out another moan, and to him it sounded like it was slightly exaggerated. Was your boyfriend not that good? Not too surprising, based off of Uvo's impression of him.

If Uvo had been the man on top of you, he was certain he could do much better.

….. Where did that come from?

Uvo didn't get much time to wonder about that as he heard you let out a sharp gasp, and when his eyes refocused on you, he saw that you were looking right at him. Your eyes were wide and your skin paled as you stiffened, your hands grasping at your boyfriend's arms.

“What's wrong?” your boyfriend asked when he noticed your reaction.

Keeping your eyes on Uvogin, you answered him in a small whisper “there's something over there.”

Your boyfriend turned his head to where you were looking, and he went stiff as well when he saw Uvogin's werewolf form.

It was quiet in that clearing, free of any noises from any woodland animals or even the insects, as anything that was in that immediate area sensed the danger and were desperate to keep silent. No, the only sound Uvo could hear was your breathing that became more panicked as you struggled to keep it under control and the way your boyfriend tried to shush you while he broke out into a cold sweat. You two were both under the impression to stay still and not make any sudden movements for fear of provoking him.

Then your boyfriend whispered your name.

“When I move,” he breathed out, “I want you to run back to the car and get out of here. Even if I'm not with you, you have to take the car and leave.”

As he spoke, your boyfriend slowly moved his hand over to a pack beside you that Uvo hadn't noticed at first. Still, Uvo grinned. He thought he could take him on?

You tried to protest but your boyfriend wasn't hearing it, only repeating his instructions to you and trying to make you promise that you would do as he said. You didn't want to; that was clear, but when you looked back over to Uvogin's form outside the treeline, you shuddered once more and agreed to leave with a short nod.

Uvogin waited for the boyfriend to make his move. He looked just as terrified as you were, but he was clearly trying to be brave for your sake, and his resolve seemed to steel when he got a hold of whatever he had been searching for in the pack.

“Now!”

Your boyfriend yelled as he shot up and charged at Uvo. For the first time since seeing him, Uvogin felt mildly impressed with your boyfriend; he'd been genuine about wanting to save you over himself. Not like he wouldn't still die for it as he was still incredibly weak, but there was something to be said about the willingness he had to face down a beast like Uvo for your sake.

You must be something special to make a man go that far for you.

The thing your boyfriend had pulled out turned out to be a can of bear spray as well as a medium-sized hunting knife. Uvo managed to doge the stream that had been aimed at him easily on account of how badly the hand that held it had been shaking. The boyfriend ran back a bit, unwilling to get too close to Uvogin even with the knife. He tried to aim it again, but Uvo used his claws to slice at him, slashing upwards as he aimed for his throat.

Somehow, he missed the boyfriend's throat and only managed to hit the side of his face, opening up his cheek and taking off his ear. The boyfriend cried out at that, one hand going up to his bleeding cheek while still trying to incapacitate Uvo with the bear spray. But with the way he stumbled about, it was almost too easy for Uvogin to grab him by his face and hurl him into the trunk of a nearby tree. He hit headfirst, and there was an audible cracking sound that came from the impact. Uvogin didn't even bother to watch the way his body hit the ground, experience telling him that he was definitely dead.

Uvogin was much more interested in you.

You were still in the clearing. At first you had done as your boyfriend had told you and bolted the second he yelled, running back to your campsite. But you stopped and turned back when you heard him cry out when Uvo had slashed at him. You wanted to help him but you also knew there was nothing you could do, and so you were left standing in the clearing, your whole body shaking as you struggled with the decision to stay or leave your boyfriend behind.

It was cute how loyal you were to him.

And loyalty certainly wasn't a bad quality.

When you saw your boyfriend die you froze, tears streaming down your face as you looked between the now dead man and the thing that had murdered him. You were clearly in a panic, your legs trembling as your brain struggled to figure out what to do, where to go from here. Certainly you had to be aware that you'd lost any chance of getting away like you'd been told to do, right?

Apparently not, as when Uvogin stepped forward you bolted, running back towards the camp. Yet Uvo found a sense of relief with that, that you wouldn't just sit there and let him kill you and end it so early.

For whatever reason, that last thought displeased him.

But he brushed that away as he chased after you only moments later, not bothering to be quiet with his movements and instead being as loud as possible, breaking apart any low-hanging branches in his wake as he howled into the night air once again.

You had only made it a little ways past the car when he emerged from the forest and lunged towards you. It seemed like you were trying to get away on foot given the damage to the car. Already there was a scent of blood in your wake, as the soles of your feet had already been cut up on the sharp debris of the forest floor.

You turned towards him just in time to see him raising his clawed hand over his head before he sliced it downwards. Through what must have been some bit of luck, you stumbled backwards at that moment and all he managed to do was give you a flesh wound.

You hit the surface of the gravel road hard, crying out in pain at the force of your fall as well as the cuts that were on your arm, your hand immediately grasping at your wound as you desperately tried to use your legs to get yourself off of the ground.

Then he was on top of you.

He opened his jaws wide; you saw as he did so, and attempted to crawl out from under him.

He snapped his jaws shut on your throat.

And you went stiff.

It was quiet for a few moments.

And then a small rush of air escaped from your mouth as you let out a breath you had been holding.

Almost.

He had almost killed you in that moment.

The pointed tips of his teeth were pressing lightly into your skin, not quite hard enough to make you bleed, but that would change if you shifted your neck just slightly.

Why had he stopped?

He stayed there, hunched over you, his arms caging you in while his maw was around your throat. He felt the pulse in your neck beating wildly, almost causing vibrations against his teeth. You had stopped struggling, your legs still while you continued to clutch at your wounded arm, the only noises coming from you now being your uneven breathing.

What was he doing?

His yellow eye glanced over to your face, and he found that you weren't even looking at him. You were gazing in the direction of the night sky, where the light of the moon shown down on you like a spotlight, but it didn't even seem like you were even looking at that. Your eyes were wide as you breathed hard, and Uvo had to wonder if you were currently seeing your life flash before your eyes. That perhaps your mind had accepted that this was the end of your life and was remembering as much as you could before Uvogin would sink in his teeth and sever those major arteries in your neck.

Were you satisfied with all that you had accomplished up to this point, or were you disappointed and felt that you should have done more?

Moments passed like that, his hulking form engulfing yours with no movement from either of you. He took in a deep breath, and he once again caught some of the flowery smell of your shampoo, though it had largely faded by now, and you smelled much more like the woods after the hours you had spent there. More like pine and tree leaves, and the fresh water of the lake, and....

Uvogin let out a short grunt that made you whimper and you clenched your eyes shut as you believed this to be the end. You had no clue that Uvo could smell your arousal coming from between your legs. It had come from the way you'd been fooling around with your boyfriend earlier – there was no way you could have been turned on by this.

Uvo thought again of what he had seen when he stumbled upon the two of you, and that odd thought that had interjected at one point. You had been on his mind almost all day, and he thought it was because he wanted to kill you. And now you were beneath him and the moment couldn't have been more right, and yet now that was the last thing he wanted to do.

It hit him then. The different urge he'd had about you since he had seen you earlier in the day, since he had seen the way you treated your boyfriend; the way you had kissed that man had stuck out in his mind. Hardly any different than any other couple he had seen who were too big on PDA, yet combined with the way you had first come up to him, had smiled and thanked him, and introduced yourself so willingly while also asking for his name had made all of the difference in the world.

His days in the woods were lonely. It was something Uvo was well aware of but had thought he could handle, and he had done so for several years now without issue. But now that he knew you, with your actions and your touch and even the sweet scent of your arousal that he wished more and more that he had been the cause of, another second of being alone sounded more like torture.

Still, the biggest reason he had stayed on his own for so long was that he had accepted that there would be few in this world who would be alright with spending the rest of their lives with a man-eating monster. And any that he may have wanted to keep alive despite that probably wouldn't have been worth the trouble. Keeping someone else with him would also mean he would need to put in the effort to keep them alive, and if he had them unwillingly he'd need to make sure they wouldn't be able to get away, either by restraining them or locking them up.

He watched you, watched the way your face stayed scrunched up as you waited for him to finish it. He wanted you, but were you worth the trouble?

When Uvogin pulled off of your neck and sat back up, you meekly opened your eyes in confusion and trying to anticipate what horrible thing he would do to you next. You yelped when he grabbed you by the back of your shirt as he stood, pulling you up to your feet and setting you in front of him. With one hand on your shoulder and one on your hip, he turned you so you were facing away from him, making sure you were steady on your feet.

He leaned down so his maw was right next to your ear, and in a voice that sounded more animal than human, he growled out a single word:

“Run.”

With that he pushed you forward. You stumbled a bit, your brain still processing what he had said as you barely took a few steps away from him. Then, like a lightning bolt had hit you, you finally seemed to understand as you snapped back and made a beeline for the woods. Your bare feet were loud on the cluttered forest floor, and he occasionally heard little gasps and soft whimpers of pain when you cut your foot open further on a rock or a sharp branch.

Uvo waited, wanting to give you a good head start before he began to chase after you. It would be easy to track you, especially with how much you were bleeding now, but he shuddered with barely contained excitement, eager to chase you down but knowing that he needed to give you a decent head start or else it would be over too quickly.

If you proved yourself worthy of keeping alive, then he'd take you back to his cabin.

And he really hoped you wouldn't let him down.

…. But then something felt wrong.

Uvogin's eyes narrowed as he sensed that you were still within the immediate area and not moving away from him as he had expected. The direction you had gone in was the same one the both of you had come from; the patch of woods and the clearing where he'd found you in the pathway. There wasn't anything there that you could have fallen over or gotten stuck on, so why....

A new thought occurred to him, and Uvo growled lowly to himself as he hoped he wouldn't see what he felt he might when he found you next.

You were back in that clearing, sitting next to your boyfriend's fallen body. Your body was facing the direction Uvo had arrived from, both of your hands in front of you as looked down at your now former lover. There were tears rolling down your cheeks as you sat there.

A wave of disgust hit Uvogin as he found he was correct and was thoroughly disappointed with your actions. He'd given you a chance to get away and you'd wasted it by sitting around crying. Clearly he had given you too much credit.

You heard him as he began to walk towards you, and he noted the way your hands slipped beneath your boyfriend's slightly upturned body, your head still downcast.

He stood across from you, letting out a huff that made you flinch. But still, you didn't move from that spot.

As he opened his jaws your head shot up and you lifted your hands from beneath the body.

Just as you did so, something sprayed into his nose, eyes and his open mouth. Something that stung and made him gag. Fuck it burned, and Uvogin let out a howl of pain as he clutched at his face.

The bear spray-!

Something sharp then dug into the flesh beneath his collarbone, and the pain from the bitter spray was accompanied by the sensation of a knife blade stabbing into him.

With another howl as he was now blinded, he swiped a hand in your general direction and heard you yelp as he simultaneously clawed your shoulder and forced you to the ground. With his hearing now being his greatest sense, he managed to pick up the clatter the bear spray can made as the force of his blow made you drop it, and he moved one of his feet to stomp at it, crushing it and making it useless.

Uvo roared again as he swung about wildly, trying to catch you once more, but you managed to avoid his attacks and made your way into the woods again as he heard your labored breathing and footsteps growing fainter and fainter.

He clutched at his face as he tried to make himself calm down, trying to will away the pain and regain his sense of sight and smell.

…. Not bad.

Even with the rage he had felt in the moment, he found himself relieved, almost happy that you had caught him off-guard. You had gone as far as to use your boyfriend's body as a prop, to make him think that you were too broken up about his death so he would lower his guard. Had you been a bit taller, you could have done a decent amount of damage if you'd managed to stab the knife into his throat.

The knife was still in him, he realized, and after regaining a little bit of his sight in his left eye, he easily pulled it out and threw it across the way.

Now you had no weapons, but he was also at a disadvantage as his eyes were still watering and he could no longer smell you as clearly, the harsh chemicals of the spray making him internally wince every time he breathed through his nose. If he wanted to catch you, he would need to rely almost entirely on his hearing to search for you.

The sounds you were making were quite distant now, but he grinned to himself and stayed there a while longer, letting you get further away.

The direction you were going had no civilization, there was only forest for miles, and he was happy to let you get yourself more and more lost if it meant that his hunt would continue.

By the time dawn was nearing, signaled by the sickly pale color the sky had turned to, Uvogin had managed to chase you further into the wilderness, up through the trees and near the edge of a cliff face. Throughout the night there had been times where you had slowed or stopped completely as you tried to regain your strength, taking advantage of your smaller size and slipping into places that he couldn't easily get to. You also had several brief spurts of energy where you had sped up suddenly, more determined than ever to get away from him while you threw various stones and branches back towards him, though you never tried anything else as bold as you had with your trick from earlier as you didn't allow him to get that close again.

But as you stumbled to the edge of the cliff and looked at the steep drop before you, it was clear to him that your fight was gone. He knew it even before you fell to your knees on the sharp rock. The chase had ended, and just in time, as daylight would be here soon, and when that came he would revert back to his human form.

It had been one of the most memorable hunts he'd had in years, and even though your will had been broken in the process, by now he was certain that he wanted to keep you. To have a little partner in his solitary life, someone to keep his bed warm and wait for him to return home in the evenings. The scenario was nice to think about, and he especially liked the idea of you cuddling up to him during the colder months of the year, trying to keep yourself warm with his body heat to fight the chilly air that would sneak inside. Maybe eventually he'd get you to give him sweet tokens of affection like you'd given to your boyfriend, perhaps a kiss on the cheek before he went out to hunt.

And maybe every once in a while, if you were still insistent on putting up a fight, Uvo might let you out during a full moon and make you think you had a chance to escape, just so he could hunt you down and drag you back to his little home in the woods.

The thought of it gave him chills, and he wondered how long he would need to wait before he could let you out.

You were lightly swaying in place as you looked to the ground below while Uvo was consumed in the thoughts he had about you. He assumed that you were just waiting for him to finish it – your willpower was dried up, and there was no way you would try to run around him or do anything as stupid as try to climb down the cliff face.

He had no clue where your thoughts had taken you in that moment.

Realization shot through him when he saw your shoulders sag and your body began to fall forward over the edge.

Uvo rushed forward and grabbed you by your shoulder before you fell off and he threw you back, a good distance further and far rougher than he had been intending, as you wailed weakly when you hit the ground.

If you were willing to kill yourself to escape him, he'd need to wait some time before letting you run about the woods again.

By now, you were covered in dirt and blood and whatever else had stuck to you from the forest while you had run from him. Your skin was covered in cuts that he and the forest had given you and it would likely be some time before you would be able to properly walk again based off of the state of your feet. When he approached you once more, you clenched your eyes shut again. By now you were past the point of tears and just waited for him to finish you off.

You jolted at the feeling of his fur brushing against your skin when straddled you once more, but just as before, the killing blow you were expecting never came. You opened one eye, and just as you did so, the first rays of the sun shone over the landscape beyond and hit Uvogin.

You watched in silent horror as the fur that covered him caught on fire and began to burn. He was briefly consumed by the flames before they vanished into puffs of smoke. His bones were snapping again, breaking into pieces and retracting back into their normal size while his muscles and skin rippled and shrunk back down, tightening around his fingers as the claws also retracted and vanished beneath the skin. As his wolf face broke apart and reformed, there was a look of shock in your eyes as you saw the beast on top of you become more and more human. And that shock soon turned into a realization when you found that you recognized the man who was on top of you.

His transformation back to his human form was over in a matter of seconds, and when it was over and his green eyes looked back down at you, you stuttered as you tried to find your voice.

“U-Uvogin?” you asked weakly.

He grinned, pleased that you had remembered his name.

Without another word, Uvo leaned down over you so he could begin the process of properly claiming you as his.

[hornime]

lewd event!! can i get exhibitionism + toys with dom! mattsun & sub! reader pleasee <33

DEVIATION | MATSUWAKA ISSEI X F!READER

part of my a whole lotta lewd event! [ details | masterlist | CLOSED ]

warnings: 18+, timeskip!mattsun, f!reader, exhibitionism, use of a toy (vibrator)

a/n: why is this so much plot.

some things are part of a routine. 

waking up in the morning and brushing your teeth is part of a routine. checking your email on the commute to work is part of a routine. accompanying your boyfriend to a dinner with his friends on the last friday of every month, like you’re doing tonight, is part of a routine.

and then there are deviations from the routine. 

deviations are unexpected but not necessarily unwanted. they can be exciting, depending on the context.

for instance, the vibrator currently buzzing at a low level between your legs at said dinner is a deviation from the routine.

“you good, baby?” mattsun doesn’t look at you when he asks you the question—his eyes are trained on the table before you where two of his friends and their partners are waving you over, responding with a wave of his own—but the low tremor of his voice is clearly directed towards you. 

“never been better,” you say between clenched teeth, plastering on a smile. it’s getting harder to control your body even though it’s only been around ten minutes since he stuffed the toy up your panties and turned it on—you, without a doubt, underestimated the kind of effect it would have on you.

you’re certain that your underwear is soaked by now. the way mattsun quirks his eyebrow and gives you a shit-eating grin at tells you that he’s certain of that too.

“that’s great to hear.”

he rests a hand on the small of your back, leading you to the inside of the booth and then shuffling in beside you so that you’re between him and the end of the bench. you’re keenly aware of the pocket of his pant leg pressing against you—more specifically, the remote control to the very vibrator that’s inside you in the pocket of his pant leg pressing against you.

he slides his hand into the pocket and you suck in a breath.

“so, how have things been going lately?” makki, who’s sitting on the other side of the table, gestures between the two of you. “heard you're thinking of getting a new apartment.”

“oh yeah,” you reply. “just thinking so far. i’m being considered for a promotion right now, so if all goes well we’ll be moving out soon.”

iwaizumi, who’s next to makki, makes a face. “don’t tell me your boss is still that creepy guy who has a thing for you.”

your jaw drops into an exasperated smile as you turn to mattsun, shoving him slightly. “did issei tell you that? he does not have a thing for me—”

“—yes he does.” mattsun interrupts with a dry laugh. “i’m not an idiot. he never takes his eyes off of you.”

“i don’t blame him,” makki interjects, amusement glinting in his eyes. “you’ve got a very pretty girl there, mattsun.”

you shake your head, smiling. “psh, stop i—”

biting down harshly on your lower lip, you cut yourself off, your body jerking forward as the vibrations in your pussy increase in intensity. you shoot a glare at mattsun, who’s looking at you expectantly, as if he’s daring you to do something about it.

his hand is still in his pocket.

you can’t help but press your thighs together in an effort for more stimulation, the need to orgasm beginning to overwrite your common sense. all you want to do is throw your head back, close your eyes, and let mattsun finish what he started, but you’re in public and you’re with his friends.

“hey, are you okay?” iwaizumi’s got a look of mild concern on his face as your nails dig into the wood of the table.

“yeah, i’m fine,” you breathe. “just...” you look to mattsun for some help—you really can’t manage to think of a convincing lie, not when you’ve got such a big distraction—and he surprisingly takes pity on you.

“period cramps,” he explains.

makki and iwaizumi nod their heads, though neither seems particularly persuaded. you swear you see them share a look.

after a few minutes of small talk, something you’re barely able to participate in without your voice wavering, the waiter comes by to take orders. you’re granted a moment of relief where you’re not wrapped up in trying to maintain a conversation while wanting nothing more than to get off as makki and iwaizumi chat with them about one of the dishes.

“nice save,” mattsun rumbles in your ear, tearing your gaze away from the menu before you. “almost thought i had you with that one.” he pushes another button on the remote and you nearly slam the table with your fist, instead choosing to dig your fingers into your leg.

“well, don’t hold your breath,” you shoot back once you’ve regained the ability to speak, your voice hushed and shaking. “i can take it.”

“we’ll see,” he replies, wrapping his arm around your shoulders to pull you in closer. “after all, we haven’t even started eating yet. i’ve got all night.”

you never really know what you’ll get with deviations. that’s why you suppose the two of you like them so much.

if you enjoyed, reblogs + comments are appreciated!

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[songbirdstyles]

when i kissed the teacher.

summary: the one man you want more than anything is the one man you can’t have - your english professor.

warnings: teacher/student relationship, age gap (implied), f receiving oral, whole lotta smut, whole lotta feelings, whole lotta angst

word count: 14.7k (strap in)

song inspo.: when i kissed the teacher - abba

There was something special about Professor Styles.

You knew it, and so did every other girl who took his class. Your less-than-appropriate feelings about him were shared and that should’ve made you feel better about having them - at least you weren’t as obvious as some of the other girls who obviously took a fancy to your English professor. You applauded their efforts, showing up to classes in short skirts and low cut tops in the hopes that they’d catch his eyes drifting down to their chests while he passed out your essays -

But they hadn’t had any luck yet. He was a very respectable man, and more than his looks, that was what you appreciated about him. He was passionate about English, with a curriculum that appealed to you from the very first day and essay topics that forced you to look deeper into every book that the class read. He was one of the youngest professors on campus and you could tell something about that seemed to motivate him - to not be seen as a joke by the older professors, to be taken seriously by the students, some of which weren't much younger than him.

You decided, after your very first class with him, that, in any other universe, you’d have fallen in love with him. Or perhaps tried to jump his bones immediately.

Something of that sort.

As classes progressed you found yourself only liking him more. His classes were as difficult as you’d anticipated and you should have hated it, hated how much work and effort you had to put into every assignment but you absolutely adored it. You loved doing his essays, loved the novels he picked, loved the look on his face when he handed back your assignments with a 100% scribbled on top.

Most of your assignments, at least.

It didn’t really make sense to you, why your 1984 analysis should have gotten a 71%. Truthfully, you’d felt confident while writing it - it was such an easy analysis that you’d decided to go a little deeper, spending more time on it than was necessary, because you were sure he’d be tired of reading the same essay from everybody over and over again. So you gave him something different and maybe you should have stuck to analyzing the same themes that everyone else did.

“If any of you are confused about your grade,” Professor Styles announces to the class when everyone has gotten their essays back, time left in class slowly ticking down, “please feel free to see me after class. M’happy to discuss any concerns with you.”

Perhaps you’re being paranoid, but you could’ve sworn you felt his eyes land on you.

Class ends within a few minutes and you take your time packing your things back into your bag, waiting until the last kid has trickled from the lecture hall before swinging your bag over your shoulder and making your way down to his office. The door is cracked open and he’s barely sat down at his desk when you knock, flashing him a smile before pushing the door open a bit more.

You clear your throat before saying, “Hey, um, sorry to bother you - ” he interrupts you, telling you that it’s no bother at all “ - I’m just kind of confused on why I did badly on this essay.”

He nods, motioning for you to come in, and you step inside before shutting the door behind you. His office is small and cramped, with bookshelves lining the walls and a couch pressed into the corner. It’s a good vibe, you have to admit, although slightly messy. Perhaps you’d describe it as cozy, and it seems to fit him well. 

There’s an empty seat in front of his desk and you sit down in it awkwardly, placing your essay in front of him. His eyes skim the first page before he tells you, “You usually do really well on essays, and this was … a really easy one.”

“I know,” you tell him, leaning forward to try and read what he’s reading. “I just thought you might be looking for something more complex. It seemed too simple.” When you look up, he’s staring at you, and you feel heat flood to your cheeks. “I don’t - I don’t know.”

“It really is that simple, I promise,” Professor Styles informs you, and he pushes your essay back to you. “But you’re one of my best students, and I don’t want to let this bring down your grade. So, I have an idea for how you can make it up.”

Your mind runs through all the ways you’d want to make it up to him - most of them involve you being on your knees, and you cough into your elbow. He doesn’t know what you’re thinking, but it doesn’t stop you from feeling embarrassed about it. Fantasizing about your professor from across the lecture hall is one thing, but you’re barely a foot apart from him now and you’re almost nervous he can hear your thoughts.

“I’ll do anything.” And you don’t care about the ways he could interpret it. He drums his fingers on his desk, and when you look down at his hand, you notice with a start that his nails are painted - you’d never seen that before, but you’d also never been this close to him, you suppose. You wonder if he gets them done or if he does them himself - you can’t picture him going to a salon, and the thought of him painting his own nails could make you cum on its own.

You don’t realize he’s been speaking until you zone back in, and when you look back up at him, he furrows his brows at you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry.” You shake your head. “Just - um - could you repeat that?” His eyes linger on you for just a beat too long, and your face flushes again. “So distracted,” he murmurs in a faux chastising tone, and your stomach flips. “What I said was that I’m willing to put this essay in as a 97 - your average for the class - if you would help me with grading some things. Not too heavy, maybe an hour or two after class. I’ve been falling behind with a lot of my classes and I’ve been looking for help, anyway, so it works out for both of us.”

Jesus Christ. Spending an extra hour every day with Professor Styles sounds like a recipe for disaster, and yet it also sounds completely perfect at the same time, and you’re nodding before you can fully process the pros and cons of the situation. “That sounds great. I mean, really - thank you so much.”

“S’my pleasure,” he informs you, giving you a large, dimpled smile. “So, after class, tomorrow - when I’m caught up and don’t need your help anymore, you’re off the hook.” 

“Got it.” you stand, grabbing your essay and your bag and making your way towards the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Tomorrow,” he echoes, and the last thing you see before you shut the door is him, bringing his hand up to wave you off.

 ---

 When class concludes the next day you maintain the same habit as you did the day prior - watching every student trickle out the door before swinging your bag over your shoulders, grabbing the two cups of tea that you’d made before class and making your way down to the front of the lecture hall.

Professor Styles stands in the doorway of his office, holding the door open for you - you make your way inside with a tight, only slightly awkward smile. His eyes roll over the two cups that you’re holding and he asks, with a mildly amused inflection in his voice, “I guess you like tea quite a bit, then?”

You smile, looking down at your cups, and when he shuts the door you hold one out to him. “I do like it a lot, but this one’s for you. You know, to say thank you for giving me a freebie, and also because you look like the kind of guy who loves tea.”

He laughs and your grin widens at the noise - god, it’s like music to your ears, and you would do anything to keep hearing it from him. He reaches out to take the cup from you and brings it up to his mouth, taking a small sip - when he’s done his tongue pokes out to lap up a bit of tea from his lip, and you try to ignore how much the minuscule motion affects you. “This is perfect, Y/N. Just the way I like it. You’re an angel.” Your cheeks heat up, and then he says, “But you don’t need to thank me. I’m probably gaining more from this arrangement than you are, truthfully. People are starting to get annoyed with how I’ve been falling behind grading, which is where you come in.”

Yes, you’d heard the girls next to you whispering about how bothersome it was that they’d submitted three essays in the past month and had only gotten one back. Why does he give out so much work if he’s never gonna hand it back? 

It didn’t bother you too much.

“Well - alright, then. You’re welcome for helping you grade,” you tell him, pulling out the chair in front of his desk and settling in, dropping your bag beside you. You take another brief moment to glance around his office, as though expecting something to change, but it’s the same distinctly messy, cramped office that it had been yesterday. At some point, you should tell him that he ought to clean out his space, but that’s not what you’re here for - yet.

Professor Styles nods, making his way to the other side of his desk and plopping down in his spinning chair - it was quite nice, and made you wonder why the one you sat in seemed to be falling apart at the seams. But, then, you supposed teacher salary didn’t leave room for spectacular seating. “See, that’s the spirit.” All at once, the casual discussion between the pair of you died as he dug in the drawers of his desk for something - and then he plopped a large stack of papers on the table between you both. “This isn’t all of them - not even close. You’re very smart, so this should be pretty easy for you. Just read through them, add any notes, things they need to work on, and look at the rubric for a final grade.”

You nod, picking the first essay off the top of the pile and reaching for a pen from the cup on his desk - it’s a coffee mug with the Rumours by Fleetwood Mac album cover on it, and you take a moment to marvel at it briefly. “You like Fleetwood?” you question, voice seeming unnaturally loud in the sudden quiet of his office. “Didn’t strike me as that kind of guy.”

He looks up, then, from where he’d already begun scribbling bright red notes into the margin of someone’s essay. His eyes trail down to the mug full of pens, and then back up to meet yours. “You seem to make a lot of assumptions about the kind of guy I am. What’s that all about?”

“Nothing,” you assure him, your voice faux sweet and innocent, and he smiles slightly. “But I’m glad you have an appreciation for really good music. I was worried your music taste would be terrible, and then I’d have to live with the knowledge that Professor Styles exclusively listens to Justin Bieber.”

Your professor rolls his eyes, smile tugging at his lips. “You know,” he begins, “you don’t have to call me Professor Styles. Not outside of class, at least. It sounds weird when it’s just the pair of us here.”

“Oh.” You pause. “What should I call you, then?”

“Harry’s fine.”

Harry Styles. The name flows easily off the tongue as you test it out in a teasing tone, your eyes meeting his as you do, and your cheeks flush. You don’t know if it's commonplace for professors to allow random students to drop formalities and call them by their first names but you’ll accept it anyway - all you know is that, when you go home tonight, the thought of calling him Harry will fill your mind until you can’t stand it anymore. 

Harry as he buries his face between your thighs.

Harry as he pounds you into the mattress.

Harry as he bends you over his desk - this desk - the one you’re sitting at right now.

You cough into your arm and pick up your pen, pressing your thighs together to try and alleviate the throbbing that’s now affecting your body. You should’ve known not to let your mind wander because you’ve barely been here for 15 minutes and you already feel like you need to go rub one out in the bathroom. But you pause - take a sip of your tea, though it’s nearly gone from drinking it so much in class - and get to work grading Brianna Valeria’s essay on Death Comes to the Archbishop. The rubric sits on the desk next to you and you bury yourself in your work - if Harry notices the sudden silence that’s overtaken you, he doesn’t mention it.

For the rest of the hour, the pair of you work in silence. It’s comforting and surprisingly not awkward, and occasionally you ask his opinion on something one of his students wrote in their essays, but the playful banter you’d had before has dissipated. You’ve finished your tea and you suspect he has, as well, with the way he’s been feverishly drinking it.

“Oh,” he says, suddenly, and you glance up from where you’re in the middle of scribbling red notes into the margins of Alexander Simmons’ essay. “You should probably get going.”

One quick glance down at your phone proves that he’s right, and you rise from the extremely uncomfortable seat you’ve been perched in for the hour - you can practically hear your butt crying in relief. “Thank you so much for the tea,” Harry tells you, handing back his cup, and it’s empty, like you expected. “And - um. You don’t have to call me Harry if it makes you uncomfortable. Just thought it would be less formal, but if you don’t want to, it’s fine.”

Ah. He took your silence as you being uncomfortable calling him Harry. Well, it’s better than him knowing just how wet the sentiment made you, but you shake your head immediately. “No. No, I prefer calling you Harry. You’re right - it’s weird when it’s just us.”

He grins at you, then, standing up from his seat and stretching his arms over his head. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, then, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“You know, if I’m calling you Harry now, I think you should drop formalities too. Make it equal.”

“Okay … Y/N. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Harry,” you tell him, turning and walking out of his office with your phone in your pocket and two cups in your hands, blissfully unaware of your abandoned bag still sitting next to the terribly uncomfortable chair you’d been all too quick to leave.

 --

 It’s only when you’ve finished the trek back to your dorm, the sun beginning to lower down into the horizon, that the absence of your bag on your shoulder becomes prominent.

You can’t get into your building without your key and your key is in your bag and your bag is … back in Harry’s office, where you nearly made yourself cum just thinking about him. And the thought of having to go back across campus, back to his office, when he might not even be there, is not favorable, but you need your key and you need to bang out homework tonight, so with a soft groan you spin on your heel, walking away from the warm comfort of your building and making your way back to his.

As summer bled into fall and fall begins to bleed into winter, the weather has changed so drastically in just the past week or so that you tug your cardigan closer to your body, but the air that seeps through the holes in the crocheted sweater send goosebumps trailing up and down your body. The wind whips your face and brings tears to your eyes that run down your cheeks, and when you’re finally at the door of Harry’s building it’s a welcome surprise to walk inside, allowing the warmth to embrace you - even if the shock of the changing temperatures causes your eyes to water again.

His office is on the 2nd floor, so you pull open the door to the staircase and make your way up the two flights. Most professors have gone home for the day, classrooms dark as you speed past them to where you know his office is. 

His office is dark and your heart sinks at the sight - there are a few posters pinned to the small window, but you can see the lack of light clear as day. Your hand grasps the doorknob anyway, turning it without any hope that it would open - but then it was, giving you access to his dark office, and by the seat you’d occupied later you can make out your bag.

A breath of relief escapes your throat as you take a step inside, reaching down to swing it over your shoulder before turning to leave. And then you hear it - a small breath, an indicator of someone else in the room, and you whip around to look back around at the office.

Oh.

Harry sits in his chair, face buried in his arms, fast asleep. His hair is messy and in front of him sits the stack of essays you’d been working at early, hardly any smaller than when you’d left. It would nearly be an adorable sight - your professor, passed out at his desk - but it just seems concerning, and without thinking you’ve leaned over the desk, placing your hand on his shoulder and shaking him slightly.

“Professor?” your voice is soft, barely audible, and you speak louder when you say, “Harry?”

He doesn’t respond, so you say, louder still, “Harry?”

Then he stirs slightly under your touch, and you drop your hand from his shoulder as he lifts his head from where it had been resting on his arms, looking up at you with messy eyebrows and a thoroughly confused expression on his face. “What - what are you doing here?” Jesus. His voice is deep and raspy, sounding as though he’d been sleeping for ages instead of merely less than an hour, and if his present state wasn’t slightly concerning to you, you know that you’d feel the effects of his words between your thighs. But you pause, staring down at him, before asking, “What are you still doing here?”

“Just working on some grading.” He runs a hand through his hair, looking around the darkened office with an air of distinct confusion.

“With all due respect, Harry,” you tell him, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “I think you’re burning yourself out. You should go home.”

He hesitates, and then questions, “Why are you here? I thought you left -”

“I forgot my bag,” and you hold it up to demonstrate it to him. “Are you going to go home? I’m serious - you need a break. And to sleep on a bed.”

“I’m fine,” Harry says, and he stands up from his chair. It moves back and hits the wall with a soft thud that goes unnoticed by both of you. “You should go home, too. I need to finish some stuff up. I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.”

To neither of your surprise, you don’t move from your spot standing before his desk. You cross your arms over your chest, digging your sneakered toe into the plush rug on the floor of his office - you hadn’t noticed it before, but it’s pale blue and bright against the mahogany floors. The brief silence between you two, daring either of you to speak, fills the confined space and all you can hear is the ticking of the clock behind you, and finally you say, “You’re not going to get anything done when you’re exhausted. I mean, you fell asleep on the essays. How are you going to explain why there’s drool on their assignments?”

He gives you a tight lipped smile in response, looking down at the essay he’d been working on as if to check that no saliva had landed on the words. “You caught me at a bad time. I don’t usually fall asleep on top of student essays, I promise - but you should be heading out now. It’s getting dark.”

It is getting dark, he’s right - the window behind his desk shows the darkness that newly falls over the campus. And the thought of walking home in the dark scares you just a bit, but you’ll suck it up if it gets him to go home too. “Harry.”

“Y/N.”

“I’ll help you grade tomorrow. But you’re fucking yourself here -”

(Harry laughs at your choice of words internally, but it comes out as a small release of air and a soft grin.)

“ - so come on. Walk out with me so I can make sure you’re actually going home.”

Perhaps he’s realized he’s fighting a losing battle here, because finally he looks back down at the stack of ungraded essays with a small sigh and then says, “Fine.”

“Great.” Your grin widens across your face, and for a moment you make to hold out your hand to him, to drag him along like you would to any of your friends - but the second your hand raises you drop it down to your side, and heat burns your cheeks. He’s not one of your other friends, you tell yourself, stepping out of his office, hearing him walk behind you. And you can’t hold his hand, even as a joke.

“Where’s your dorm?” Harry asks you as he locks the door to his office and jiggles the handle to check it, and you jump at the chance to forget about what happened - you don’t want to dwell on it. “Is it far?”

“Across campus.” You raise your arm and point in the distinct direction of where your building is. “Closer to the cafeteria, I guess.”

“Christ, you have a trek, then, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” The pair of you make your way to the staircase, and from the corner of the eye you can see his head turning left and right down the hallway, as if scanning to see if there’s anyone coming - you can imagine it wouldn’t be great for him to be seen with a student long after classes ended. “I had to haul ass there and back to get my bag.”

He doesn’t respond for a moment, not until you’ve left the warm building and made your way into the cold air, the sun now having retreated for the night, and immediately you wrap your sweater tighter around yourself to try and provide some semblance of warmth. Harry glances down at you with a bemused smile, and you hoist your bag further up your shoulder.

“Well,” you sigh, breath coming out in white puffs. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Don’t burn yourself out, professor. And get a good night’s rest.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Shouldn’t I be telling you that?”

“Maybe.” You grin, feeling goosebumps sprout on your skin, and you shiver before turning in the direction of your dorm - the thought of walking home in the dark and cold doesn’t sound too great, but you’ve become good at dealing with it. “Goodnight, Harry.”

He doesn’t respond, and you’ve taken a few steps away when he calls out, “D’you want a ride?”

What?

“Y’know, like a ride back to your dorm. I can drop you off in the back - it’s just really cold and I’m sure you don’t want to walk so far in the dark.”

You turn back around to look at him, his cheeks a light shade of pink - whether from the cold or his offer, you can’t tell. And you’d love to jump in his car, accept his offer without a shadow of hesitation, but - “Is that allowed?”

Harry shrugs, and you know that’s code for absolutely not. “No one has to find out.”

(Your stomach drops, then.)

“Sure.” You take a few steps back towards him, and he spins on his heel, leading you to his car, and you walk in silence until you reach it. By the time you’re both safely in his car - his head turning every so often to check if there was anyone watching the pair of you - you’re shivering desperately, and you know you would have been positively miserable walking back to your dorm in these temperatures. “Thank you so much, Harry.”

“S’no problem, really.” His hand goes behind your seat as he turns to look behind him, and you hate the way the simple action makes you feel. “I’d rather know you get home safe than have you walk so far in the dark. Pretty girl like you, can never be too careful.”

You pause, cheek pressed against the cold window, and turn to look at him with a small smile. “Ooh, I’m a pretty girl now?”

“Wasn’t the point, Y/N,” Harry mutters, dropping his hand onto the center console, and if it were anyone else driving you like this, you’d rest your hand on top of his, intertwining your fingers and pressing your palms together. But he’s your professor, as much as you’re beginning to wish he weren’t, so you slide your hands beneath your thighs. “Which building, again?”

“McKinley,” you respond, voice barely louder than the sound of the heat blasting into his car. 

His car smells like eucalyptus and mint, and it’s surprisingly clean compared to his office - you wonder if his house is messy or clean, or a balanced mix, because you can’t quite catch a vibe for whether he’s organized or not. But, no - you’ll never see his house, surely. You can’t. 

“I used to date a girl who lived at McKinley,” he tells you, and you exhale slowly. You can tell he’s merely trying to make conversation but the sentiment isn’t making your internal conflicts any easier to manage. “Real nice dorms.”

“They’re alright.” In fact, you’ve been at university for 3 years and resided in 3 different dormitories and they’re your least favourite, with furniture that’s too big for rooms that are too small and bathrooms that can hardly fit more than 5 people, but you don’t tell him that. “Not the greatest.”

“S’what she told me, too,” Harry says, and you smile down at your lap, but you can’t find anything else to respond to that, so you take to gazing out the window.

Within a few seconds he’s slowing down, and you can recognize the back entrance to your building. You reach down and pick your bag off the ground, digging through it to find your key.

When you have it clutched in your hand, you unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to look at him - to your surprise his eyes are already on you, and you swallow thickly. “Um - thanks for driving me.”

“Don’t worry about it.” 

You hesitate a moment before turning and swinging open the car door. You hop out and, just before you can shut it, he says, “Y/N.” And when you duck your head back into his car, raising your eyebrows, he adds, “Please don’t tell anyone I drove you home. You’re right - s’not allowed.”

“Alright.” Then, before you can help yourself, you flash him a wide grin and say, “Thanks for letting me be the exception, then.”

With that, you shut the door of his car, bounding up to the door of your building, and you swear you can feel his gaze remaining on you before his car drives off, and when you turn back around, it’s gone.

(In the back of your mind, you’re entirely too aware of the fact that merely sitting in his car crossed some sort of line that you didn’t know existed until now, but you don’t really know how far past it you are - not yet.)

 --

 “I have a question.”

You look up from the rubric you’d been working at - the student whose essay you’re grading hadn’t done too well on it, but you were trying to give them the most points you could, anyway. Harry’s looking down at his essay like he hadn’t spoken, but when he feels your gaze on him, he continues. “Why did you care so much? Yesterday. Me grading more s’less work for you to do. I feel like you should be loving that shit.”

It’s a reasonable question but, for a moment, you struggle thinking of how to answer it without exposing yourself to him. Finally, you give him a grin and say, “Well, if you were sleep deprived, it would make you mean.” He chuckles softly, and you can tell that’s not the answer he wanted, and it couldn’t have been further from the truth. So you add, “I guess I’m used to being the mom friend. Making sure all of my friends get a good night’s sleep and whatever.”

Harry pauses. “So we’re friends, then.”

You shrug, trying to stop the smile from peeking through onto your face. Being friends with Harry sounds positively dreamy and if it could segue into something else - whichitcan’t - you’d be the happiest girl alive.

You nod. “Yeah, aren’t we.” But it isn’t a question, and you can see the way his eyes twinkle at your response.

After a moment, you shift in your entirely entirely entirely too bloody uncomfortable chair, the wood making your butt ache. “I have a question, now.”

“Yeah?”

“Why’d you pick the most uncomfortable chair you possibly could for your guests to sit in?”

“Gets ‘em out of my office quicker.” Harry glances up and meets your glare with a laugh. “But I don’t want you to leave, so you can move to the couch, if you’d like.”

You hop out of the chair without a second’s hesitation, clutching your essay and your pen, flopping down on the couch and feeling your body weight sink into it. God, it’s so soft and your body relaxes into it, the relief of not being confined to the small, wooden chair so magnificent you could scream. Harry watches you with an amused grin, and says, “I feel like you’re being just a bit dramatic here.”

“Me? Dramatic? Never.” You sprawl yourself across the couch, head atop of the armrest, staring up at the white ceiling tiles above you. “I’m telling you, Harry, that chair is terrible. You should burn it.”

“So dramatic.”

You roll your eyes, sitting up slightly so you can rest your paper on your lap and still manage to scrawl semi-legible notes on this person’s piss poor essay. You wonder, briefly, if this is how Harry felt when he’d graded your 1984 essay, but - well - doesn’t matter now. And you’d fail that essay a thousand times over to get to this point, a point of companionship with your professor that you’re not sure any other student has felt with him before. At least, none that he’s told you about. It makes you feel special, and spectacular, and also the tiniest bit confused.

Why are you so special?

Maybe he’s lonely, or he’s merely entertaining your presence because you’re helping him grade, but you swear you can feel something more hidden within the lines of your relationship.

It doesn’t really matter, though, even if it is just a tad confusing.

“You should get going,” Harry tells you after another 15 minutes of you working at grading the essay. “You’ve been here for nearly two hours, bloody hell, wasn’t watching the time at all.”

“I don’t mind,” you say, though, in truth, you do have quite a bit of homework to work on later. “Don’t really have anything else to do.”

You sit up anyway, swinging your legs over the edge of the couch and stretching your arms above your head. Tiredness is beginning to affect you but you try not to let it.

“Well, in any case, you should be heading out now.” Harry nods his head towards the window behind him, the blinds pulled up so you can see the sun, nearly completely sunk below the horizon, the sky fading from reds and oranges to a dark shade of blue.

“What about you, professor?”

“What about me?” “You’re going home now too - right?”

He looks at you with a faux annoyed glare, but he can’t help the amusement from seeping through his features, and finally he breaks your stare with an exhale of breath. “I don’t think I’ll ever win this against you, will I?”

And you shake your head in response. “Never. So let’s go. Get your things.”

You take the next five minutes to gather all your stuff - resting the essay on top of his desk, sliding your phone and water bottle into your backpack, and zipping your bag shut - as Harry grabs his computer bag and his key. The two of you move surprisingly in sync with each other, sorting all of your stuff from around his small office, before making your way outside with him locking the door behind him.

It’s nearly completely dark, even colder than it had been the day prior. You reach behind you and pull the hood of your sweatshirt over your hair, protecting your ears, at least, from the chill.

You turn and face him, giving him a wide smile. The air is silent around you, surprisingly empty though the bitterness of the cold must be a contributing factor to that. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Professor. Make sure you get a good night’s rest -”

“Don’t want a ride?”

Your grin widens, and his eyes sparkle, even in the darkness, at your expression. “Well, of course I do, but it’s rude to invite myself into your car.”

“You’re not inviting yourself - I’m inviting you. Or, rather, demanding you. C’mon.”

Harry walks fast and you have to speed up your pace to keep up with him, though you suspect that has something to do with wanting to be free of any wandering eyes as quickly as possible. You recognize his car in the parking lot and bound ahead of him, standing by the passenger side door and wrapping your arms around yourself to try and warm yourself up, and for a moment his pace slows as he stares and looks at you. Standing by his car, holding an incredibly oversized hoodie tight to your body, a wide smile gracing your face.

“Staring is rude, professor,” you inform him as he shakes his head, unlocking his car and climbing into the driver’s seat. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that?”

Your lilt is teasing but you can tell it makes him slightly defensive either way.

“S’hard not to sometimes,” Harry tells you, and you giggle softly.

“So first, I’m a pretty girl, and now I’m hard not to stare at?” You drop your head back against the headrest, blowing air softly out of your mouth as you reach to buckle your seatbelt. “Keep this up, Harry, and my ego’s gonna be too big to even fit in your car.”

Harry laughs at that, resting his hand on your seat to back out of his parking spot. The radio softly plays some pop song that had been overtaking the charts recently, and you hum softly to it before turning your head to look at him. You examine his side profile - perfect, like every other angle of him - as he pulls out of the parking lot, making a left out of it.

He turns to see you watching him, and you watch redness bloom over his cheeks. “Staring is rude, Y/N.”

You smile, about to parrot his previous words back at him - it’s hard not to - but you bite your tongue, gazing at the road in front of you. A light drizzle is beginning to fall, a barely audible pitterpatter on the windshield, and that’s the only noise, for a moment - that and the radio playing, like a thought in the back of your mind.

The drive to your dorm seems to be taking longer than it had been yesterday and you can’t imagine why, but you appreciate just sitting in the car with him. Even if you’re not saying much, listening to his even breathing calms you.

You want to break the silence, though it’s comfortable rather than awkward. You like talking to him, like hearing everything he has to say, but you have no idea what you can possibly tell him that wouldn’t seem forced and awkward. So you sit, curling your legs up to your chest as you stare at the streets, and entirely too soon, the back of the McKinley building becomes apparent.

You want to stay in his car forever. Want to stay with him forever.

“Thanks for the ride,” you tell him, your voice sounding uncomfortably loud in the soft car. He nods in response, but for a moment neither of you move. You can’t bring yourself to leave yet, even if you know you have to, that he might have someone waiting for him at home.

“Y/N.” You turn and look at him, your eyes meeting his with your brows furrowed. “Uh - if you ever want a ride home, or to class, you can just let me know. Text me.”

“I don’t have your number.”

Harry’s cheeks are bright pink and there’s too much tension in the car, so thick you feel like you could cut it with a knife, and you lean down, unzipping your bag and pulling your phone out.

He takes it from you once you unlock it, going into your contacts and you watch as he types his phone number in, adding the contact name as Harry S. and you think you’ll be changing that later. He leaves the contact photo blank, which you expected - if anyone saw the name Harry S. in your phone, the contact photo would give it away.

He hands your phone back to you when he’s done, and your fingers graze his when you take it. “Just text me, then. If you need a ride.”

“Alright.” you give him a smile, unbuckling your seatbelt and pushing open the car door. “Thank you, Harry. Really.”

“My pleasure,” he says, and you grab your bag, hooking your arm underneath the strap and racing up to the back entrance of your building. It’s only when you get inside, the door firmly shut behind you, that you turn around again, and his car is gone.

 --

 10:52 PM

Y/N: hey professor...it’s y/n. just wanna make sure u have my number saved in case of emergencies

Harry S.: How is it you can have the highest grade of any student in my class and use improper grammar while texting?

Y/N: it’s a talent i guess

Y/N: texting like you’re writing an essay makes ppl v uncomfortable, and i speak from personal experience

Harry S.: So you’re uncomfortable right now, then?

Y/N: nooo, ur different

Harry S.: To quote this girl I know, ‘thanks for letting me be the exception, then.’

Y/N: how did u remember that? that makes me uncomfortable

Harry S.: Haha.

Harry S.: You should be sleeping right now. Students need their full 8 hours, don’t they?

Y/N: so do professors, as i keep telling u, but…

Y/N: i had hw to do, also had to make mac n cheese for dinner

Harry S.: You can do your homework in my office, you know. And then you can probably make it to the refectory for dinner.

Y/N: the food at the refectory sucks

Harry S.: Yeah, you’re right.

Harry S.: But I do feel bad that staying to help me grade made you have to stay up until 11 doing homework.

Y/N: well honestly i’d rather be sitting in ur office talking to u than in my dorm doing american lit work

Harry S.: Why’s that?

Y/N: ig i like hanging out with u

Y/N: u should feel honored btw

Harry S.: Believe me, I do. And now you should get to bed so you’re not grumpy tomorrow morning.

Y/N: ig i deserved that… and i’ll only go to bed if u do too

Harry S.: I will.

Y/N: promise??

Harry S.: I promise.

Harry S.: Goodnight.

Y/N: goodnight, professor

 --

 After a week, your arrangement has changed slightly.

Every day, you spend just a bit more time in his office. Then he drives you home, in comfortable silence, and from the minute you step into your dorm, you’re fishing your phone out of your bag to text him. Every night that you lie awake, texting him until you physically can’t keep your eyes open, the line that you’ve been dipping your toe across falls back even more.

The stack of assignments that need to be graded are beginning to dwindle, and you hate it. Hate to see the pile of ungraded work getting smaller and smaller, because when it’s gone, you probably won’t step foot in his office again.

Truthfully, and as embarrassing as it may be, Harry has become one of your closest friends at school. He’s funny and nice, and he brought you hot chocolate with powder left unmixed at the bottom after you mentioned that’s how you used to like it when you were younger, and he plays music on his phone at a low volume while you work on grading. 

Of course, as your friendship with Harry grows, so does the burning feelings for him that reside in the pit of your stomach day after day. And you know he doesn’t feel the same - he can’t - and maybe that’s painful for you, only slightly, but you’ve become rather talented at hiding those emotions. He can’t know that, everytime he laughs at one of your jokes, your heart swells - and everytime he reads a sentence from one of the essays out loud, using a mocking, deep voice, it makes your stomach flip.

You don’t know if you’ve ever felt so passionately about anyone, and that’s scary. Scary to think that the one man you want more than anyone else is the only person you can’t have.

“Y/N,” he says, and when you look up at him from your spot sprawled on the couch, he’s nibbling at the tip of his pen. “D’you think this makes sense?”

And he reads you a few lines written by one of his students - a name you recognize from being in your class, you think, but you’ve been paying attention less and less to other students during lectures. All you focus on is Harry, his booming voice projecting through the hall as he talks about the stories you’re reading, and every so often his eyes meet yours and the smile that spreads across his face could bring tears to your eyes, if you let it.

“Um - I guess. It’s worded kind of strangely, don’t you think? But I’d cut them some slack on it.” Harry nods and scribbles something in the margins of Nathalie Carron’s essay before flipping the page. “Can I put in a song request?”

He nods, then, picking up his phone from where it sits on his desk. The Chain plays softly, not too loud to interrupt your train of thought, but not too soft that you can’t hear it. “‘Course.”

“Heroes by David Bowie.” You glance back up at him, dropping Hannah Joseph’s essay on your stomach. “You like Bowie, right?”

“Who doesn’t, is the real question.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” You grin, glancing up at the white tiled ceiling as the song fills the hair, replacing Fleetwood. “You know, we should make a playlist for grading.”

Harry laughs. “A playlist of just Fleetwood and a dash of Bowie?”

“No, no. It can have other stuff, too. I mean, we know what we like.”

“Alright, alright.” He picks up his phone again, and you see his thumbs moving feverishly on the screen. “Y’know what, I’ll make it right now and show it to you for approval.”

“Make it good.” You pause, picking your essay up again. “No Justin Bieber.”

He snorts, and you relish in the noise.

The next ten minutes passes in mainly silence - when Heroes ends, Fleetwood continues, playing Secondhand News, and you hum to the tune. Harry’s ringer is on and you can hear it, the sound of the keyboard on his phone as he searches up song titles, and you rest the essay back on your stomach, writing messy notes with the pen you snatched from the mug on his desk again.

You sit up, suddenly, leaning over to rest Hannah’s fully graded essay on his desk, and instead of reaching for a new one to work on, you push yourself to your knees, resting your palms on his desk and attempting to lean over and peek at the playlist. But he anticipates that - he knows you’re nosy - and tilts his phone towards him, intercepting your attempts to eavesdrop.

“Don’t be impatient,” he murmurs, a smile tugging across his lips as he scrolls through something. “I’m almost done.”

You hum in response, dropping back down onto the couch, stretching your entire body across it, head resting on the armrest. The two of you settle back into a comfortable silence - he’s paused the music, by now - lasting only a moment or two before he stands up from his insanely comfortable chair, maneuvering his way around to the couch where you’re lying. He crouches down next to you, handing you his phone, opened to a Spotify playlist, and you greedily snatch the device from him, flicking through the songs.

Your eyes scan every song, absorbing every song title.

I Walk The Line by Johnny Cash - My Eyes Adored You by the Four Seasons - Your Song by Elton John?

Love songs. Every single one of them.

You push yourself up, sitting leaning against the armrest, as your eyes fall on the last song of the playlist - When I Kissed The Teacher by Abba. You lower his phone to your lap, looking at him with a slightly confused smile adorning your face.

He watches you intently, your heads a mere few inches apart, then reaches down to grab his phone off your lap, and you laugh lightly before saying, “it’s a lot of love songs.”

“They reminded me of you,” he tells you, voice quiet, testing the waters.

“They - they did?” It doesn’t make sense to you - doesn’t make sense that 45 love songs should bring you to the forefront of his mind, that every single time he hears Fooled Around And Fell In Love he should think of you. 

They make you think of him, though. 

And without thinking - of what you’re doing or of the consequences - you lean in, closing the short distance between your faces, pressing your lips against his so softly that it feels like it’s a mere breath on your mouth.

Harry pulls back, lips barely a centimeter from yours, exhaling softly. “We shouldn’t.”

You hum in agreement, already leaning back in. “No, we really shouldn’t.”

Your lips meet again and his hand goes to your face, cupping your jaw, and when he deepens the kiss you whimper into his mouth, bringing both of your hands to the back of his head. Your fingers bury themselves in his curls, tugging on the chocolate brown strands, and he groans softly into your mouth.

It’s everything you’d imagined and more, as the hand not on your cheek drops down to your waist, pulling your body closer to his. The angle is awkward - you sitting on the couch and him kneeling before it - so you unattach your lips, much to your dismay, and swing your legs around the edge of the couch so he’s situated between them. Harry’s eyes are wide, his hair mussed up, and you lean back in without a moment’s hesitation to resume the kiss. His tongue brushes against yours, and he tastes like mint tea and fucking heaven.

Both of his hands go down to your waist, tugging you to the very edge of the couch so your bodies are as close as they can be, and yours go to the back of his neck, dipping underneath the collar of his button down shirt to scratch at his back. It feels muscular, more toned than you were expecting, and feeling the skin underneath your nails makes you moan into his mouth.

“Fuck -” you groan softly as he moves his lips down your chin and to your jaw, nibbling softly at your skin, as if experimenting to see what you like - your reaction prompts him to move further down, licking a stripe down your neck and to the base of your collarbone. One of his hands - very large hands - slide up to cup one of your breasts, squeezing the mound of flesh through your tight shirt. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Harry hums against your collarbone, pressing open mouthed kisses across your skin. Your nails dragging down his back causes him to bite down gently to stifle the moan rising from his throat, but you hear it and Goditspursyouonsofuckingmuch. “God, Y/N -”

His praise is cut short by the sound of three swift knocks on the door - he pulls back from you, nearly falling back on his ass with the speed at which he stands, and your eyes flash to the door. Your heart is pounding desperately in your chest - are the doors soundproof? Did someone outside hear you? The thought makes you sick to your stomach, and your eyes meet Harry’s to find the same worry in his orbs.

Within moments he’s back behind his desk, running a hand through his hair to try and smooth it out, and you’ve reached to grab Hannah Joseph’s essay off his desk just as he calls, “come in!” in a voice that’s far too cheery for the panic that had just overtaken the both of you.

The door opens and from the corner of your eye you can recognize the girl who walks in - she lives across the hall from you, and her name is … Anna or Emma or something similar. She’s nice, and you should remember her name, but your brain is so scrambled that you can’t think of it.

Harry kissing you. Harry making you a playlist. Harry’s hands on your waist, pulling your body into his.

It’s everything you’ve dreamt of since the beginning of the semester, feeling his touch on you. And when you close your eyes, you try to imagine what would have happened if nobody knocked on the door, and it sends a shiver down your spine that doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry, sitting at his desk as he looks over Anna-or-Emma’s essay.

You can’t be here. You shouldn’t be here. The girl (who, now that you think of it, may be named Alana) is asking Harry a million bogus questions about the essay requirements he’d just given out and her shirt is so low cut that you’re surprised her boobs haven’t fallen out. Whether that was intentional or not isn’t something you dwell on, but something about sitting on the couch, trying to steady your breathing while your clit throbs violently feels wrong.

“I’m gonna go, professor,” you say, interrupting her question, and she looks at you like you just told her you’re going to give her a million dollars. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Y/N,” Harry calls as you grab your bag and shut the door behind you. His voice sounds pained, almost, as though he doesn’t want you to leave him alone with a girl whose only goal is clearly to fuck his brains out. You practically run down the hall, which isn’t close to being as empty as it usually is when you and Harry leave at the end of the day. 

Your shirt is tight and short sleeved and you can picture your jacket, up in his office, thrown over the back of the couch. You’d been in such a rush to leave that you’d left it, and you’re beginning to truly feel the consequences of it as the cold corners you, attacking your skin, and you could go back up to his office and get it but you just want to go home. The sun is setting, and it’s earlier than when you usually leave.

The walk home is decidedly miserable, the wind sending tears streaking down your cheeks, and your mind is practically going into overdrive. Jesus Christ. You kissed your professor, and he kissed you back. And then you left, like a fucking idiot. He probably feels terrible - feels like he violated you, or ruined his career. But he hadn’t done anything wrong, not really. If you were more respectable you’d go back to his building and apologize for running out, wrap your arms around him and kiss him like you fucking mean it, but all you do is scan your card to get into McKinley and walk down the hall to your dorm.

Your roommate is out - at her boyfriend’s, as per usual, but you appreciate it. Truth be told, you haven’t seen her much since the first few weeks of the semester, but she seemed nice enough. You drop your bag onto your bed and collapse on top of the covers, gazing up at the ceiling.

You bring your hand up to your mouth, brushing your fingertips over your lips with the same feather light touch that the first press of Harry’s lips to yours had felt like. You can still feel it - feel him - if you close your eyes, his hands grasping your hips and his lips trailing down your collarbone.

Slowly, you press your palm to your stomach, trailing it down your torso until you reach the button of your jeans. You undo it with shaky fingers and push them lower down, beneath the hem of your cotton thong, and the first brush of your fingertips against your clit sends a shiver down your spine and a whine falling off your lips.

Harry’s hand on your chest, squeezing your breast through your shirt as he kisses down your neck - oh my god, licking down your neck, biting your skin, his eyes are so wide, his hair is messy from where you grabbed it, and you hadn’t been interrupted he would’ve climbed on top of you, pressing you into the couch, tugging your jeans down your thighs and -

Maybe he would’ve done what you’re doing now, sliding his digits into your heat, fingers longer than yours, hitting every spot that you need him to. Or maybe he would’ve slid down your body, lifting your shirt to suck a deep purple mark into your chest, before burying his face in your cunt -

A very loud moan falls from your lips as you push a finger inside of yourself, curling them immediately to hit the spot inside of you that makes your tummy flip.

But maybe - just maybe - Harry wouldn’t have bothered with that. Would’ve watched, breathing so heavy as you unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his nice dress pants to wrap your hand around his cock, throwing his head back and moaning as you swiped your thumb over the tip of him.

You’re so close so fast you can practically taste the orgasm creeping up on you, your hips bucking up to meet where your fingers are feverishly rubbing circles on your clit.

And he would’ve slid into you, and he’s so big that he’s stretching you out more than any of your fingers or the guy you’ve been with, and he’d grab your chin and force your head up and kiss you so fucking hard, his hips flush against yours -

With a strangled cry, you curl your fingers once more and then you’re cumming, release coating your fingers as your hips roll into your hand. All you can think about is him and what could have happened, and the fact that you may have ruined the start of something magnificent, but God if the orgasm wasn’t good.

You pull your hand out of your panties, wiping your dripping fingers on the denim of your jeans. For a moment, you merely stare back up at the ceiling, focusing on steadying your breathing, and then you stand up, kicking your jeans off your legs and tossing them onto your dresser. You have a pair of plaid pajama pants crumbled in a pile at the bottom of your bed from the morning, and you pull them over your legs with a sigh. Perhaps it’s not the height of cleanliness, but they’re soft and comfortable, and you lie back down on your bed once they’re on.

After nearly an hour, you still haven’t done anything but sit and do nothing, occasionally flicking through your phone. You wish you could fall asleep but your brain is working far too fast to even think about resting, and -

The sound of your phone getting a notification startles you, and you groan, grabbing your phone to look at whoever disturbed your panic.

Harry S.: I’m behind your building. I have your jacket.

He’s here? Jesus Christ, you just came over him and damn near cried over him and now you have to see him.

Perfect.

Your heart skips a beat, and you jump up without a second thought. You look an absolute fool, stuffing your feet into the first pair of shoes you can find - a pair of slip on Vans that are so dirty they can barely constitute as white - before you’re running out the door, your phone tucked in the waistband of your pants, heading down the hall and out the back entrance where Harry’s black car sits, waiting.

You walk up to his car, pathetically out of breath, and lower your head so you can see him through the window as he rolls it down.

“Hi.” Your tone is quiet, and you clear your throat. “Um, I’m sorry about running off like that. I just got overwhelmed and that girl showing up made me - um - nervous.”

“It’s fine,” Harry says, though he’s very pointedly not making eye contact. “M’sorry if I crossed a line. I shouldn’t have kissed you like that, or -”

“No, I kissed you first -”

“But I’m your professor.” He says the word with an odd inflection, nearly pained. “I shouldn’t have let it escalate. I’m sorry.”

You dig the toe of your shoe into the road, looking down at the passenger seat where your jacket sits, waiting. The tension is palpable and you swallow thickly, then grab the car handle, forcing the door open so you can grab your jacket. You wrap the fabric around your shoulders - the seat heaters made it warm and you could nearly cry at the way it embraces you.

Harry watches you - you can see him from the corner of your eye - and then he looks down at your body, your shirt and your pajama pants with no pockets, and asks, “D’you have your key to go back in your dorm? S’just, you don’t have any pockets … I can’t see it.”

Shit. No, you don’t. You hadn’t thought about that when you were running out to see him. Perhaps he can decide the answer from the way your face drops, because he exhales with a small smile, barely perceptible, and nods his head. “Get in.”

You grab the door handle again, pulling the door open and climbing inside. The seat is toasty and warm and the car is toasty and warm and altogether you feel like both of those adjectives combined. The radio plays softly - or maybe it’s his phone, hooked up to the aux cord, because Maybe I’m Amazed by Paul McCartney is a song you recognize reading on the playlist he’d made.  You slam the door shut and wrap your arms around yourself, holding your jacket closer to your body, before turning your head to glance at him. He still hasn’t started driving, merely gazing at you, and you feel your skin heat under his eyes. “Where are we going, professor?” It’s a stupid question, because you aren’t going anywhere yet, and he doesn’t look like he plans to start driving anytime soon.

“I’ll take you back to my apartment.” HIs eyes haven’t left yours, and your stomach turns. “How does that sound?”

You exhale softly. “Sounds perfect,” and then you’re leaning in, pressing your cold palms to the side of his cheeks and bringing his face into yours.

Your lips meet and it’s more desperate than it was in his office - teeth clashing and your tongues brushing against each other, as if he’s trying to devour you. His hand rests atop of yours, dwarfing you pathetically, before dragging his fingertips down your arm and up to your shoulder, fingers dipping beneath the sleeve of your shirt.

Where you’re cold from the air outside, Harry is so warm and toasty, his breath hot against your face when you pull away briefly. He presses his forehead to yours and then leans up, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose and smirking at the whimper you let out.

“Wait,” he tells you, voice low and quiet, and you nod slowly. “When we get to my apartment - but not now.”

You nod feverishly and sit back in your seat obediently, desperate for him to finally start driving. His hand rests on top of the center console and you stare at it for a moment - you can do it, do what you’ve wanted to do every single time he’s driven you home - and you place your palm overtop of his. He turns it over so your palms are pressed together, fingers intertwining, and you’re sure he can hear your heartbeat with how loudly it’s beating in your chest.

The line that you’ve crossed is so far behind you that it’s a mere dot in the distance. 

The car ride to his apartment is short - only 2 full songs play during it, and you recognize My Girl and I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight from the playlist. Truth be told, it feels as though you’d been in the car for hours and hours, his thumb rubbing circles into the back of your hand. You want nothing more than to crawl across the center console and straddle him, kiss him until you’re both breathless and go as far as you’d fantasized about but you have to wait.

 --

 Harry’s unlocking the door of his apartment entirely too slow for your liking. It’s as though he’s trying to tease you, make you antsy, when all you want is for him to press you against the wall and kiss you silly. 

He lives in a large brick apartment building - one of the newer ones, you know - in an apartment on the third floor. You’ve passed his building so many times driving through town and you never even knew it - didn’t know the man who lived there was someone you’d be so desperate for.

“Come on,” he whispers, though there’s no real reason for the two of you to be quiet - perhaps it just fits the mood. Harry’s hand wraps around your wrist as he tugs you into the now-open door of his apartment, flicking on the light switch residing beside the door. 

As light floods the apartment you’re somehow both surprised and also not at all. It’s surprisingly tidy, resembling more of his car than his office, and - to your relief - it’s quite obvious he’s the only one who lives here. You slip out of your Vans and take a moment to look around. A cat sits on top of the couch (her name is Marie, named after Aristocats, you learned from class) and you can’t stop yourself from gravitating towards her, using two fingers to stroke down her back as you peek around the apartment.

Yes, it is quite clean, and surprisingly colorful - there’s a striped rug and red couches and your eyes fly a bookshelf filled with picture frames against the wall. One is him with four other guys, arms wrapped around each other - one of him and Marie - one of him, significantly younger, hugging a girl who looks extremely similar to him.

“Is this your sister?” you ask, unaware of where he is in the apartment but trusting he hasn’t strayed too far from you.

“Yeah,” he responds, and you jump slightly. Harry stands just behind you, and when you turn to face him he’s fighting back a grin. “So nosy, aren’t you?”

You raise your arms to wrap around his neck, pulling his head down to yours as his hands gravitate down towards your lower back where your shirt rises just a couple inches from your pants, exposing a strip of skin, and his touch sends a shiver down your spine. “I guess I am nosy. Can’t help it.”

Harry leans down, then, pressing a kiss to your forehead and down the bridge of your nose before landing on your lips - you whine into his mouth, pushing yourself onto your toes to try and deepen it, swiping your tongue into his mouth. It’s so different than before - heavier, deeper, and you can’t get enough of it.

“Please,” you whimper against his lips as his hands creep farther down your back, landing on the globes of your ass through your soft pajama pants. “I need you.”

“Oh, yeah?” You can hear a sense of cockiness working its way into his voice and you groan softly as he pulls away from you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “What do you need, baby? Tell me.”

You need everything. You need everything he can possibly give you and more - you need wish fulfillment of everything you’ve dreamt of since the start of the semester and that includes every single goddamn appendage on his body put to use somehow.

But you can’t possibly begin to tell him that, not yet. His fingers are already trailing down to the waistband of your pants, tugging at the tie that holds them up when you breathe, “Your mouth. Please, I need - I need your mouth.”

It’s not enough for him, you can tell, as he leans down to press a kiss to the side of your throat, sucking softly. “M’using my mouth.”

“H - Harry …”

“Where d’you want my mouth?”

You curse beneath your breath, and he pulls his head back to raise his eyebrows at the sound. You bury your hand in his hair, tugging lightly on his curls, before squeezing your eyes shut and muttering, “Want your mouth … down there.”

As much as you want it - and Godyouwantitsofuckingmuch - it makes it no less awkward to say it out loud.

“Down where, baby?” Harry asks, voice teasing and so fucking smug. “Down here?” His hand sprawls across your stomach, pressing down on your abdomen and you moan softly. “No … down here, s’that right?”

His hand slides down to your cunt, pressing his palm overtop of you through your pajama pants and you’re so wet you’re sure he can feel it even through two layers of fabric. Your throaty cry in response and the feverish nod of your head confirms what he’d been teasing you about, and Harry delivers one last soft kiss to your lips before dropping to his knees before you.

Fuck. You never thought you’d see Professor Harry Styles, the man of your dreams and the one person you considered to be entirely unattainable, kneeling in front of you with his nice dress pants on and a crisp button up shirt. He looks entirely normal, save for his messy hair and lust blown pupils, and you’re sure you look a bloody mess but his eyes still devour you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

You drop your shaky hands down to the tie of your pants, undoing it at record speed, and he hooks his fingers in your waistband. Slowly - so slowly - Harry tugs them down and his eyes remain on you as though expecting you to stop him, but you can’t. Finally they pool by your feet and you lift your legs to kick them off, sending them flying near the couch where Marie resides.

Had you known this would be happening perhaps you would have opted for racier panties - your cotton thong isn’t terrible but it certainly isn’t doing you any favours, and you have so many lace ones at home that would have been perfect for the opportunity - but Harry still looks at you like you created the world. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh and then the other, leaning in to suck a dark purple hickey into your skin.

You suppose he has a thing for hickeys.

Your fingers twist in his curls, trying to direct his head up to where you truly need him, and he chuckles softly - the soft exhalation of air makes you whine as it hits your cunt, even through your panties. A soft kiss is what he lands on your clothed clit, and your hips buck up into his mouth. You’d forgotten, perhaps, that you’d had an orgasm less than an hour prior but you’re very swiftly reminded, and he looks up at you with a smirk.

“So reactive,” he murmurs, wrapping his lips around your clit through your underwear and sucking softly. “Just the way I like.”

A shaky breath escapes your mouth as you toss your head back, legs shaking and you can’t expect them to hold you up much longer. One of his hands moves to the back of your thigh, kneading your skin softly, and the other dips into the hem of your panties and slowly tugs them down. You’re so wet that the fabric is desperate to stick to your dripping cunt but he manages to roll them down your legs, face to face with your pussy and -

Heat floods through your body and up to your face as you look down and make eye contact with Harry. Now that he’s down there, gazing at your bare pussy, you feel oddly compelled to protect whatever modesty you have left and shut your legs but then he grabs one of your legs and throws it over his shoulder, pushing you back just a bit until your back smacks into the wall, and leans in.

The first stripe he licks up your core sends a choked cry from the back of your throat and then a long whine as Harry focuses his attention on your clit. His tongue flicks the swollen bud, still rubbing circles into the back of your thigh. Your heel digs into his back as he moves one hand up to your cunt, running his finger through your soaked folds before pushing it inside of you.

He curls his finger, mimicking a come hither motion until he brushes against the spot that makes your hips jerk against his face. Harry’s lips wrap around your clit and when your eyes roll back into your head, he takes his hand off your thigh and snaps his fingers.

“Look at me,” he demands, voice muffled against your cunt, and the vibrations roll through your body like an earthquake. “I wanna watch you fall apart. Look at me.”

Slowly you lower your eyes back down to him, meeting his gaze as he pulls his mouth away briefly - smacks his lips - and pushes a second finger into your dripping heat. As he thrusts them in and out, hitting that sweet spot in your velvet walls, you can feel your orgasm building in the pit of your tummy embarrassingly fast, but you want to hold out for him. Want to prolong this as long as you can.

Harry’s teeth brush against your clit and you cry out, barely hearing the way he groans, “So fucking reactive for me, yeah?” but you can hear it and it only makes you moan louder. His tongue draws patterns over your clit and he’s so determined to maintain eye contact but you can tell it’s a struggle for both of you.

He pulls his fingers out of you, licking a thin stripe up one of them as if he can’t get enough of your taste before reaching his arm up so his fingers rest on your bottom lip. Obediently you open your mouth, accepting his digits and swirling your tongue around them, tasting yourself on his skin, as he leans back, glancing up at you with heat blazing in his eyes.

“You’re close,” he tells you, his voice deep and throaty. “Can feel it - feel how you’re clenching around my fingers, baby. D’you wanna cum? Tell me how fucking bad you want it.”

Harry pulls his fingers from your mouth and presses them to your clit, rubbing a slow circle as you struggle to find your voice before gasping, “Fuck - need to cum so fucking bad Harry - Harry, oh my god -”

“Yeah? Gonna cum for me?”

“Yes! Oh my god, H - Harry -”

“Cum for me, baby.”

He leans in, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking and that’s all you need to topple over the edge, the orgasm that had been building in the pit of your tummy finally exploding. Your head falls back against the wall with a thud that’s hardly audible over your loud shrieks and moans, your leg finally giving out and you damn near slide to the ground before Harry hooks an arm around your thigh to keep you upright.

His tongue flicks at your clit gently, riding you through your orgasm, and when you’re coming down from your high it’s all you can focus on. There’s a high pitched ringing in your ears and you don’t think you’ve ever - ever - cum that hard in your life. You’d only been with one guy before who didn’t even know women could orgasm and your fingers never gave you anything so earth shattering.

Your breathing comes out in desperate pants as Harry rises from his knees, moving both hands to your hips as your legs nearly collapse again. Your clit is throbbing and when you press your body to his, leaning up to kiss him so desperately, you can feel his boner, hard against your thigh.

“Holy shit, professor.” It’s all you can manage, pulling away to drop your head against his chest, using the moment to try and steady your breaths. “W - who knew you were so good at that.”

His fingers brush through the ends of your hair, a gesture so sweet and innocent that it could make you forget what just occurred. “A hidden talent, I guess,” he mutters, gripping your chin to kiss you again.

You drop your hands to his waist, gripping his nice button down shirt in your tight grasp, surely wrinkling the fabric as you roll your hips against his. Even through his pants his hard on feels fucking huge and you’ve only been with one guy before and suddenly you’re wondering if he’ll even fit inside of you.

But you’ll try. By god, you’ll try. And you press your head to the wall, looking up at him with lust dilated pupils. “Harry.”

“Tell me what you need, baby.” But he already knows, and you can tell he needs the same thing.

You swallow, bucking your hips forward against his boner, and he groans. “I want you to fuck me. Please. I - I need you to fuck me, professor.”

The word makes him moan aloud, and within barely a second he’s grabbing your wrist, tugging you away from the wall and across the apartment until he’s swinging open a door and pulling you inside.

Something about being in his bedroom is entirely different than being in his living room, the carpet beneath your bare feet plush and soft. There’s a large television in front of his bed and the bed is made beautifully, a flannel blanket tossed over the end, and you can’t fucking wait to mess it up.

Harry spins you around to face him, attaching your lips once more as he shuts the door. You whimper into his mouth as his hand drops down to your bare bum, squeezing the flesh in his large palm. “Sorry,” you murmur, voice high pitched and breathy, “was nosing again -”

He groans as you drop your hand to the front of his fancy dress pants, trying desperately to undo the button with one shaking hand. It’s a struggle and finally he chuckles breathlessly, dropping both hands down to help you with the task, and finally you reach your hand into his trousers and press your palm against his cock, hot and heavy even through his boxers.

“Bed,” he grunts, backing you up until the back of your knees hit a hard edge and you fall backwards onto his plush duvet. He stands above you, breathing heavily, and for a moment you stare at each other, as though processing that this is happening - and the moment picks up again. Harry reaches down and tugs at the bottom hem of your shirt, pulling it up and off your body and sending it into the corner of the room. Your bra is lace, at least, and decidedly prettier than your panties, and for a moment he stares down at your chest with a look of pure lust adorning his face.

“You look a bit flushed, professor,” you tell him, voice faux innocent and sounding entirely more confident than you feel. “Are you feeling okay?”

Harry chuckles through gritted teeth, and you push yourself onto your elbows so you can work at the buttons of his shirt as he tugs his pants down his legs. “I’ve never been better, in fact.” His boxers are flannel and you can see the bulge in his boxers, and it’s even bigger than what you’d expected.

Your work at undoing his buttons slows down as your mind suddenly flips into overdrive - you must wear the worry that suddenly overtakes you because Harry leans down, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“When’s the last time you’ve done this?” he questions, voice soft and spun sugar sweet.

“Um -” you try and think. The last time you’d done this you’d lost your virginity and that was - “A year ago. Maybe longer.”

Harry nods, nudging your nose with his and giving you one final kiss before rising back up. His hands replace yours as he works on unbuttoning his shirt. “I’m going to go slow, baby. I promise.”

In every fantasy you’ve had about him, he’s not slow - he’s fast, pounding you so hard the bed is nearly louder than the noises you make - but now that you’re here with him? Maybe you need slow.

You nod, and he smiles down at you. He presses his hands onto the mattress and then snakes them beneath you, fingers working at the clasp of your bra, and you lift yourself up slightly so he can undo it and slide your last piece of clothing off of you. He sends it into another part of the room and you can’t be bothered to focus on it because - Christ! - all of a sudden Harry lowers his mouth to your breast, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples and sucking.

“Fuck!” you gasp, fingers working themselves into his curls. Your fingernails scratch at his scalp and he moans lowly against your skin. Harry lifts his head off of you, pinching one of your nipples so you cry out.

He lifts one leg to rest on the bed and then grips your hips, pulling you closer to the edge. Your legs instinctively spread and he watches you, breathing heavily. “Baby,” he mutters, hands slipping his boxers down his thighs. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

Heat burns your cheeks and you shut your eyes.

“Look at me,” Harry tells you, and it’s all you can do to obey. “Want you looking at me while I fuck you. Can you do that?”

You nod, swallowing as he grips one of your calves and hikes it onto the bed, exposing your sensitive, dripping cunt to him. You look down your body, where he’s grasping his achingly fucking hard cock in his hand, and then he drags the tip down your slit with a low hiss.

“Are you ready, baby?” he asks, voice soft and strained, as if he’s holding back and you know he is. But he needs this to be a good experience for you so it can be good for him and that’s what you appreciate.

“Y - yeah.” you push yourself onto your elbows and your eyes meet, maintaining perfect eye contact as he pushes himself inside of you. He’s going achingly slow and -

The stretch aches and you drop your head onto the mattress with a groan, Harry’s hand immediately finding your hand where you’re grasping the duvet feverishly. He bottoms out, fully sheathed in your warm cunt, a low groan piercing the air at the feeling of your walls, tight around him. It hurts - not as much as you’d expected, and the pain that quite literally fills you overtakes the burn.

You squeeze his hand, feeling his other run up and down the inside of your thigh as you adjust to him. “Oh - my god - wait - just - just one second wait one second -”

“Of course,” he breathes, and his voice is shaky with an emotion you can’t quite decipher. “T - take your time, babygirl.”

After a few seconds you push your head up to look at him, nodding slightly. “Okay. I need more, p - professor.”

You can tell he likes when you call him that and in some weird way you love it too - love knowing that the professor everyone lusts for is fucking you, slowly pulling out before thrusting back in, squeezing your hand when you cry out at the feeling. Maybe you’re not the first student to experience him like this but based on his demeanor you think you are - there’s something about him in this moment that feels like a secret you’ve discovered.

“Oh - fuck -” Harry grunts as he moves his hand from your thigh to your hip, pressing your body down with just enough force to limit your movements. It’s paining him, going so slow, you can tell - and you’re already starting to need more from him. You need him to go faster, and with a breathy moan you tell him.

Slowly his pace picks up, his grip on your hip tightening until you’re sure there’ll be fingerprint shaped bruises on your skin by tomorrow morning. With every thrust he fills you up so completely that every perfect spot inside of you is hit just right, and you never knew it could feel this good.

Every noise of his that tears through the bedroom spurs you on, pushing your hips into his to deepen every thrust. And every time you whine or whimper or cry or anything Harry delivers a harder thrust, fucking you so deep that you can feel it in the pit of your tummy.

“God, p - professor,” you moan, the word falling entirely too naturally off your lips even in your heightened state. Harry throws his head back with a high pitched whine, speeding up his pace until the loudest noise in the room is skin hitting skin. “Holy shit - fuck - I’m gonna - gonna -”

“Gonna cum around my cock, baby?” He hisses, pressing the hand that had once resided on your hip into the mattress, gripping the covers tighter so he can rail his hips into yours desperately. “So fucking tight around me, can’t even fucking stand it -”

Your hand, shaking beyond belief, slides down to rub hard circles into your clit. The sensations on your clit and his cock, rutting against your G spot with every thrust, sends you over the edge again - already so overstimulated from the rather intense orgasm you’d had before - and with a loud cry-bordering-on-scream you’re cumming again.

“Fuck!” you moan, hips bucking up against his as you ride out the waves of your orgasm. “Fuck, Harry, oh my god -”

He’s not far behind you, hips stuttering ever so slightly but he wants to bring you to one more orgasm, securing this day as the best fuck of your (admittedly limited) sex life and he can’t cum yet. Your hand falls back onto the mattress and Harry pulls his clammy hand from yours, bringing it down to replace your fingers on your clit, and immediately you clench around his cock, begging incoherently for something - you’re not sure what - as he presses down on your clit hard.

Your eyes roll back into your head as his cock twitches inside of you, and grunts and moans are flying from Harry’s mouth faster than he can control it. Your walls flutter around his dick, his thrusts slowing to lazy pumps in and out. He’s so fucking close, he just needs one more push and then -

Your fingers wrap around his wrist and he looks down at you, your eyes nearly black with desire, tears streaking down your cheeks. “C - cum in me, professor.”

It’s the final straw for Harry, and with a nearly animalistic cry he sheathes himself fully inside of you and cums so hard so fast, it’s nearly violent, and the feeling of warmth that explodes in your cunt sends you into your fourth orgasm of the night -

It’s less intense than the others but still entirely too prominent and when you’ve finally rode out the last wave you collapse against the bed, your head spinning and your legs aching as Harry presses it back down from where it had been perched up.

Harry collapses on top of you, his body suffocating and hot and sweaty and you wrap your arms around him, your desperate attempts at steadying your breathing filling the room. You’ve never cum so hard and so much and you’re fucking exhausted, truthfully.

He lifts his head, gazing down at you as you run your fingers through his tangled, sweat soaked curls. “How was that?”

You exhale with a smile upturning your lips, beginning to feel his cum dripping out of your pussy and down your thighs. “Jesus Christ,” you murmur, and a grin breaks onto his face as he drops his forehead against your shoulder.

The two of you lie in silence for a moment - no words need to be spoken. Harry shifts the pair of you further up the bed, your head crashing onto one of his pillows as he remains, firmly on top of you, like he never wants to leave.

But you can’t stop yourself from asking the question burning through your mind, and you swallow thickly before mumbling, “Harry -”

He hums softly.

“Is this like - a one time thing?”

His head lifts again, chin pressed to your shoulder blade, eyebrows furrowed. Harry takes a moment to respond, though, lifting his hand to trace a line across your jawline to your lips, and you press a soft kiss to the tips of his fingers when he arrives at his destination. “I don’t think so,” he tells you, and his voice is quiet and vulnerable, as if waiting for you to deny him. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone.”

You smile softly, leaning in to press a kiss against his soft lips. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“‘Course, baby.”

The name makes your tummy flutter, and you think you could listen to him call you baby for the rest of your life. “I’ve dreamt of this,” you tell him, lips merely a centimeter from his. “Since the beginning of the semester, every night.”

Harry raises his eyebrows at you, and you giggle at his expression. “Glad to know I’m not the only one.”

You shut your eyes, then. Rest your head on his pillow, feeling warm with the man you adore pressed on top of you, his arms firmly and protectively wrapped around you. Nothing has ever felt more right to you, and you drift off to sleep with a soft smile still gracing your lips.