#god i genuinely think this is a handsome face am i onto something or are my standards really just rapidly falling

[greasydumbfuck]

that body of his is insane. hes so handsome. i cant live like this anymore

[luveline]

hi i just got a haircut and feel very cute :) can i request r getting a haircut and the bau team fawning over it (with derek or spencer it’s up to you)

ty for ur request! this ended up being reader x the whole team, but heavily derek, and more subtly spencer !! fem!reader

cw readers hair was longer, and is now short

You take a deep, slow breath before you open the door that leads to the office. The first thing you see is Derek, to your horror, perched like he's waiting for you on the lip of his desk. 

Hotch must have known the agony with which you'd be subjected sitting across from someone like Derekz and he did it anyway. Handsome, caring, flirtatious to a fault, it was a recipe for heartbreak in the making. You quite like your new haircut; if Derek or the others don't feel the same you'll be mortified. 

You keep your head down as you walk to your desk. If you see Derek's expression, you'll lose all steam. You don't look up until you're close enough to smell his warm, understated cologne, raising a nervous hand to a button on your shirt. 

"Hi, Morgan," you say. 

"Oh, no, baby, we're on a first name basis," he says, raising his eyebrows at you. "Is this a joke?" 

"Am I usually joking?" you ask weakly. 

Derek shakes his head from side to side, crossing his arms over his chest, a ball of kinetic energy like the mere sight of you invigorates him. Safe to say he likes it, safer still when he brings a hand to his jaw and scrubs at it. "I don't even know what to say," he remarks, with all the intonation of a man disappointed. 

He sighs tiredly and pulls his phone out of his pocket, hitting the first button on his speed dial. Within seconds he's been answered, the phone pressed to his ear. "Hey, babygirl. You better get to the bullpen stat. It's an emergency."

"Derek, you'll give her a heart attack!" 

"Am I lying?" he asks. 

"Let up, Morgan," Emily says, coming up behind you to squeeze your shoulders. "It looks amazing. When did this happen?"

"Why wasn't I informed?" Derek asks.

"Oh my god!" JJ cheer-whispers, a stack of case files in her arms as she approaches from her office. "You cut your hair! It looks so good, why didn't you say anything?" 

"It was kind of a spur of the moment decision," you say, flushing from all the attention. 

Derek's still pretending to be mad, though an undeniable appreciation lines his mouth. Frowny brows, poorly hidden grin. 

"Spencer," Emily says, nudging a hyper-focused Spencer in the shoulder where he sits huddled at his desk. 

Spencer looks up from his book and it promptly falls between his hands. He reaches down to grab it in a panic and smacks his forehead on the desk. 

"Spence!" JJ yelps, rushing forward to help him. Her files slide out flat onto his desk as she pulls his head up. "Jesus, Spencer." 

You're about to lend a hand when a familiar and bubbly voice shouts unashamedly across the bullpen. "Oh my god! Y/N? Y/N! Oh my god, you look so pretty!" 

You spin on your heel to offer Penelope a thankful smile. "Pen, you said that before you even really saw it."

"I'm seeing it now, aren't I?" she asks, rushing forward in a cloud of curly blonde hair. The hot pink ruching on her corset top scratches your arms as she grabs you in a sideways hug. "We don't see you for a week and you cut all your hair off?" 

"Hey– hey!" Derek says. "Don't act like this isn't the best thing to happen to this department since Prentiss joined. You were something else before," —Derek nods appreciatively, a low whistle escaping pursed lips— "but now? You better clear your schedule, baby. Me and you are going out." 

"I think he's serious," Emily says, her jaw dropped. 

You raise a hand to your eyes, completely overwhelmed by the chaos. "Is something wrong?" Hotch asks from the balcony, killing your stolen reprieve immediately. You look up to find him watching over you all with a boss brand of disapproval. 

"Haircut," Penelope says nervously, pointing at your face. 

Hotch visually notices your hair. His smile is genuine. "It looks nice," he says. 

"Thank you, sir," you say, well and truly spent. In the best way possible, your team smothers you with love. If you'd known they'd react like this you would've cut your hair a long time ago. 

Except for what it's done to poor Spencer, nursing a sizable red welt atop his eyebrows. 

"You okay?" you ask, bending at the waist to smile at him apologetically. 

The excitement must be getting to him too, his usually pale cheeks kissed by a rosy twinge. "I'm fine." 

"Round table," Rossi suggests where he stands to Hotch's left, "before young Reid passes out."  

[wooziorgans]

hey, handsome! what about something with seungkwan and etl or frenemies with benefits?? i can see a lot of teasing and rage sex... honestly, i would love to be bratty with kwan, to push his buttons and make him put me in my place... if he's bad, i'd be worse :) what r your thoughts?? thank you in advance <3

— brag about it

oh lord i have never written for seungkwan or anyone besides uji rlly so uh. i hope this is okay. this was a nice break from all the other stuff im writing. i don’t think i can truly write mean dom anyone without like the softest aftercare ever so. I hope this is an okay response. this is blond seungkwan suggested but I don’t rlly describe him that much but just imagine he’s blond.

warnings: seungkwan is sooo mean ugh. ass slapping. pussy slapping. orgasm denial (reader). reader called seungkwan gay n it pissed him off (in good fun, not a derogatory way). rough sex. unprotected sex. cream pie. choking (kinda). kinda big dick seungkwan. dom-ish kwan. hair pulling. rough messy blow jobs. gagging. crying during sex from pleasure. crying after sex (from emotions). etl kinda w a very open ending. not that much aftercare but yolo.

“Quit running you fucking mouth.” Seungkwan hisses, his grip on your wrist tight as he pulls you into his bedroom. He doesn’t spare you a single glance as he pushes you down onto his bed. You squeak softly, laughing in his face at his obvious anger towards you.

“I’m not wrong, am I though? You are kind of gay for Hansol.” You smirk, biting at you bottom lip as Seungkwan pulls his shirt over his head. He scoffs in disbelief, flipping you over on your stomach. His hand cracks down on your ass over the tight fabric of your jeans.

You gasp softly before it turns into a long, deeply satisfied moan. Seungkwan just scoffs, lifting your hips off the bed and pulling your jeans down over your ass. He rubs the soft skin with an unnatural tenderness. You turn your head to look at him, but another sharp crack halts the movement of your neck halfway.

“Gay? Yeah, sure. We’ll see about that one, sweetheart.” He scoffs in disbelief. Seungkwan’s hand dips down into your underwear, fingers sliding over the tight muscle of your asshole before they dip down towards your entrance. “God, you’re fucking soaked. Embarrassing.” He laughs at you, tone so sharp it elicits another moan in response.

You push your hips back against Seungkwan’s palm for more friction but he pulls his hand away. You whine softly. All he does is pull your jeans and underwear down further in one go, not quite off of you. You kick them off the rest of the way.

Seungkwan pops the button on his pants, pulling his cock out of its constraints and moving to stand closer to the headboard. “Why don’t we put your big fucking mouth to good use for once, hm?” He sneers, grabbing a fist full of your hair to pull your head up.

You bite your lip to silence a moan. Seungkwan catches you in the act, laughing softly in disbelief as his other hand grabs a hold of your face. His thumb pushes past your lips, against your teeth to force your mouth open, not like it’s much of a fight to begin with. You roll over onto your side, hands grabbing at the belt loops of his pants to pull him closer.

The hand in your hair lets go as he uses it to guide the tip of his cock to your lips. You open your mouth to say something, to tease him, but before you get the chance, his cock is already half way inside your mouth. Seungkwan bucks his hips forwards, forcing more of his cock into your mouth. His hands find your hair again, holding you down as your throat spasms around his tip.

“Not so smart now, are we?” He hisses, a satisfied groan slipping from his lips as his head falls back. He thrusts into your mouth, making you gag softly as tears start to fill your eyes. Seungkwan pouts at you mockingly. “What? Can’t take my cock in your mouth today? Is it too much for you?” He coos, tone so soft it’s almost tender and genuine, but there’s an edge to his voice that tells you he’s not sincere at all.

You nod the best you can with the restriction of your neck, sputtering softly around his cock. Spit drips from your bottom lip onto the sheets of Seungkwan’s bed. He tisks softly, slowly fucking your throat as he contemplates scolding you for making such a mess. You know he won’t though, because if there’s one thing you know about Seungkwan and this weird not-quite-friends-yet-also-not-exactly-civil thing you two have going on, is that there’s nothing he loves more than a messy blowjob.

Instead of scolding you, Seungkwan just forces your head down further on his cock, triggering your gag reflex. Instead of his normal course of action where he’d make you gag and then give you the grace of letting you breathe at least a little bit, he keeps his cock down your throat until you gag so violently he’s worried you might throw up if he keeps you there.

Seungkwan pulls his cock out of your mouth entirely. You whine, gasping for air and blinking away the tears in your eyes. He just laughs at you, climbing onto his bed. “On your back.” Not bothering to take off his pants, he pushes them down to his knees. You roll over, struggling to pull your shirt over your head, but Seungkwan just looks at you with this deadpan stare and you stop fighting with the piece of clothing entirely.

“It’s not so hard to listen to me, is it?” Seungkwan pushes, settling in between your legs.

“You didn’t give me any directions.” You push back, spreading your legs farther apart. Seungkwan pushes your legs apart, delivering a taut slap directly against your pussy. Your hips lift off the bed ever so slightly, and Seungkwan is quick to force you back down.

“Y’know, I really wanted to take my time and prep you properly today, but you’re really pissing me off.” He bites, hand pressed into your thigh.

“Enlighten me, Kwannie. It’s not like I need the prep anyway.” You laugh softly, wiggling your hips against the mattress.

“Hm? ‘Cause you’re that much of a slut that gagging on my dick has you soaked?” He asks, one hand wrapped lazily around his cock, coating it in your spit.

“Nah, ‘cause you’re hardly anything to brag about.” You bite, tone almost bitter. You need him now.

Much to your liking, Seungkwan pushes himself all the way in, filling you to the brim with his cock in one quick movement. You don’t even see it coming until he’s filling you completely. You gasp softly, the stretch of his cock very clear with the way your thighs shake softly as you adjust. You always need prep with Seungkwan. This is the one time you scold yourself internally for running your mouth around him.

“Not much to brag about huh? You can hardly take me, even with how wet you are.” He laughs, giving you a few seconds to settle into the feeling of his cock almost splitting you in half. Seungkwan pulls out a bit, before he thrusts back in, hard and deep. You gasp softly, tears resurfacing in your eyes at the pace he sets.

It’s hard and fast; he’s ruthless. Seungkwan leans over you, hand delicately wrapping around your throat. He doesn’t squeeze, doesn’t make any effort to choke you quite yet. All he does is lean down and kiss you. It’s hungry, all teeth and spit and tongue. It would be too messy for him in normal circumstances, but nothing about this is normal.

His cock jack hammers against that spot inside of you, forcing the air out of your lungs as you let out a long, unsteady moan. It’s then that Seungkwan takes his chance to tighten his grip on your neck, fingers digging into the sides to create a pressure so good it has you seeing stars in seconds.

In no time, you feel the coil in your stomach start to tighten. You mumble out a warning to Seungkwan, not even fully aware of what you’re saying yourself.

Just like that, the tightness is gone. Seungkwan releases his grip on your throat and pulls out of you completely. “No, no, no, fuck!” You whine, the tears in your eyes now falling down your cheeks. “I was so close, you fucking asshole.” You hiss, but there’s no real malice behind any of it. You’re too fucked out to mean it. Seungkwan laughs at you, and it starts to infuriate you.

“You don’t get to cum yet. I don’t think you’ve really learned your lesson quite yet.” His eyes narrow, obviously displeased with the way you’re speaking to him. Before you have time to fight him on the subject, he slides back in, tip kissing your cervix softly.

He goes back to his brutal pace immediately, spares choking you for now as he watches the way your expression changes from slight anger to being immediately fucked out. He lifts one of your ankles over his shoulder, changing the angle to hit deeper. You babble incoherently in between moans that sound straight out of a shitty 90s’ porno. Seungkwan bites his bottom lip to stop himself from moaning in response to you.

“You gonna stop being such a pain in my ass all the time?” Seungkwan asks, hand gripping your thigh. You grab at the material of your shirt, pulling it up your torso. You nod, unable to form coherent words. “Answer me with words.” He snaps his hips harder, just to make the task that much more difficult.

“Y-yes, fuck.” You whine, voice hardly above a whisper.

“You gonna start behaving in front of my friends?” He asks. As you start to speak again, he delivers another slap to your clit, though he keeps his hand there, rubbing tight circles over the swollen bud.

“Mm, fuck, yeah.” You gasp.

“What was that? I didn’t hear a yes.” His thumb flicks over the nerve, making your whole body jerk.

“Yes, fuck, yes, I’ll behave.” You mewl, eyes rolling back into your head.

“Good.” Is all he offers, cock hammering into you, nudging the spot inside of you with such force your thighs start to shake, threatening to close from their spread state.

“Close.” You manage to get out in one solid syllable. The hand on your thigh moves back to your throat, squeezing with just enough pressure to make every other sense heightened.

“Cum for me, sweetheart.” Seungkwan nearly purrs. Just like that, the building pressure overflows so suddenly that your whole body thrashes with the force of your orgasm. You tighten impossibly around him, sucking his cock in and making it impossible for him to move. Your cum coats his cock, and that’s all he needs.

Seungkwan cums inside of you, a stifled groan against your neck as his pillowy lips mouth at the skin there. He drops his weight on top of you, exhaling deeply as the last of his cum fills you up.

Nothing but the sound of laboured breathing fills his bedroom as the two of you come down from your highs. And then, quietly, a small sniff. Seungkwan almost misses it, misses the way your hands hesitate to find their spot in his hair, or the wetness on your cheeks that wasn’t there before.

Still deep in his post orgasm bliss, he can hardly pay attention to you, but there’s just enough clarity that he notices how stiff your body is, and then a few seconds later, he registers the fact that you’re crying. Seungkwan pushes himself off of you, quickly pulling his boxers back over his softening cock and kicking his pants off. Wordlessly, he lays down beside you, pulling your head to his chest as he carefully strokes your hair.

“Talk to me, Y/N. What’s going on?” He asks carefully, scared to shatter your resolve completely.

“Do you actually think I’m a slut? Or that I’m annoying?” You ask, voice shaky and quiet, hardly above a whisper.

“What? Did I say that?” You nod, a shaky hand attempting to wipe at your tears. “No, of course not. It was just a heat of the moment thing, Y/N.” He stops himself from adding more to that statement, suddenly aware of just how harsh he can be. Seungkwan’s hand carefully strokes your hair.

“‘Kay.” You mutter softly, breaths getting deeper as you start to give into your fatigue.

“I’ll lay off on the degradation. I guess we need to sit down and talk about this.” Seungkwan sighs softly, suddenly feeling guilty. He knows you love it when he’s mean, but maybe the personal attacks are too much.

“Later, ‘m sleepy.” You mumble. Seungkwan kisses the top of your head, eyes staring blankly at his wall.

“Later, then.” He agrees quietly. You crane your neck up to look at him through half lidded eyes. Seungkwan doesn’t even think about it, he just leans down and kisses you.

It’s so incredibly tender and soft, the way his hand finds your jaw and strokes it softly with his thumb. You’re not together, and maybe the tears that slip down your cheeks at the simple action of a tender kiss is enough of a sign that you should put a stop to whatever this is between you and Seungkwan. Later, though, as you both said.

Seungkwan feels the salt of your tears on his lips, and he pulls away from the kiss to hold you. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. Shh, I’ve got you.” He coos, fingers tangling in your hair, and you get this gut feeling that it’s all fine.

Maybe Boo Seungkwan is something to brag about.

[banjopolishh]

AHHH I just found your blog and oml I'm blessed- your writing's incredible!! 😭💕💕💕

If you're still taking Fiddauthor rq's, I'm thinking of like..ANYTHING involving those two getting high (Fidd 100% got high in college and I don't see enough fics about it!!)

Maybe both of them 🍃 and yknow how sometimes you zone out and just do a repetitive movement? (For example I run my fingers along my arm just for the sensation, and I forget I do it half the time, it's just subconscious)

So imagine Ford just like...dry humping Fidds like that- He's rambling on about whatever, and just absentmindedly rubs himself against Fidds. I dunno, just a thought that came to mind 🤭

Anywayssss love your writing, thank you for feeding all of us ~☆

this won’t be written super put together .. it’ll be a tad messy since i myself am high!!! >0<

————-

“Hahahaha! Ohhhhh my god, Fidds. You’re crazy!” Stanford burst into laughter. His college roommate; and crush, Fiddleford, was hitting 3 joints at the same.

“MMMMM!!!” Fidds’ mouth was filled with smoke; he breathed it in quickly and blew it back out. A huge mushroom cloud hit Ford’s face.

“WOW! Fiddleford, you’re so good at this! How’d you take in so much?” Stanford was impressed by Fiddleford’s ability to intake so much weed, his eyes were incredibly red afterwords.

“I just..do it! It’s taken some practice, but yer gonna be a natural if ya stay with me!” Fidds laughed; passing one of the joints to the handsome brunette across from him.

“God.. you’re going to kill me, Fidds” Ford took the joint from the man he so desired. He took a big hit - sort of trying to impress Fiddleford. The smoke he blew out was thick.

“Look at ya go, Stanford! You did amazin’..” Fidds’ was genuinely impressed , then, Ford started coughing hard.

“OHMYGOD. part of me thought i was going to die, is that normal?” Fiddleford laughed at Ford’s inquiry, he thought it was cute.

“Yes, yes! Very. You’ve got virgin lungs!!” Ford rolled his eyes and took another quick puff, making it a point to not cough this time.

“God.. im definitely.. starting to feel something.” Immediately Fidds knew Stanford was high; you could see it in his puffy red eyes! Could this man get any cuter?

Ford began inching closer to Fiddleford’s face, causing him to blush and look away.

“What’re you doin’, silly..” Fiddleford felt extremely vulnerable , he was high as a kite. Ford was on his way there as well.

“Did you know, I find you extremely attractive? I also find your wit to be very enticing. I’m surprised you don’t have a girlfriend, Fidds.”Stanford kept inching closer to Fidds’ face, eyeing him down as if he were the last human on earth.

“What? Stanford…I don’t want a girlfriend. It’s just.. not my thing?” The young mechanic’s face was tomato red, and he was fidgeting with a button on his shirt.

“Then.. what is your thing?” Ford was intrigued, he wanted to know every single thing Fidds desired. Stanford wanted to be one of those things.

“You.” Is all Fidds could get out, his mouth moving faster than his mind. God, he felt crazy even admitting this to Ford. What if he got rejected, or worse?

All his worries melted away when Stanford grabbed his face, and kissed him. It was a passionate kiss; one filled with love and warmth. A genuine kiss.

“Mm..” Fiddleford kissed back, absorbing every bit of the man in front of him. He felt like he was on cloud nine. Suddenly, Ford pulled away for air.

“Do.. Do you want to be my boyfriend? I know that sounds childish, but I truly-“ Fidds pulled him back into the kiss, a nonverbal way of saying; “Of course, idiot.”

Their kiss became more passionate, Ford was going mad. He crawled onto Fiddleford and began slowly grinding on him. Rubbing their clothed dicks together.

“God.. I remember when I first saw you, you were crying.. ready to go home.” He began grinding harder - almost as if he didn’t realize.

“You’re so pretty, Fidds.. I knew when I saw you, you had to be mine. You’re just so smart.. you figured out the universe is a hologram? Come on, you’ve got such an amazing mind.” Fiddleford’s eyes fluttered - this felt so fucking good.. and the praising? He could cum right now.

“Ford..you’re so.. ah..so, so, sweet. Thank you for believin’ in me, I’ve always - fuck - felt so alone..” the friction in their pants was making them both so close.

“Ha.. Fiddleford, never, ever, let anyone treat you like you’re nothing. You’re everything, everything to me.” Ford thrusted harder, chasing his release.

“Fuck! Ford.. ford.. im- im going to.” Fiddleford felt himself release into his pants, the weed making it all the more easy to cum.

“Metoometoofuck.. Mmmm!” Cum began dripping down Ford’s legs, his shorts not holding much.

The two sighed, Ford wrapped Fidds up in a tight hug, both of their legs shaking in pleasure.

——-

i got so tired I couldn’t write a good ending .. so here’s that!! they definitely cuddled and ate snacks though! and yes they stay boyfriends hehehehwagahahah

YYSM FOR THE REQUEST

[theharddeck]

your love is the love i need || chapter 3/4

pairing: javy machado x femme reader (no y/n), callsign Cross

summary: Mrs. Machado is on a plane home, so there's no need to keep pretending...but it's awful tempting when you wake up in bed with someone you've been in love with for months.

warnings: 18+, minors please DNI – the smut starts here, folks. it's not PiV not yet but come back for ch5, but there's mutual masturbation, swearing like you'd not believe, and questionable sanitary decisions who am i

length: 3.8k

A/N: *appears after four months with 1.8k words of smut* thank you to everyone who reached out to check on this fic, who asked for updates, and who encouraged my lunacy. so excited to continue to tell their story!

chapter one / chapter two

Monday Morning

You woke up slowly, the sun shining through your blinds, and your arms wrapped around a sleeping Javy Machado. 

You lay still for a second, cataloging the moment. 

You’d both shifted in your sleep; Javy had rolled over and you’d followed him, your chest against his back and your nose pressed into the nape of his neck. You didn’t think of yourself as a big spoon, and you’d bet anything that Javy wouldn’t publicly admit to being the little spoon, but it felt so comfortable this way, to be wrapped around him, holding him.  

You knew he was a heavy sleeper, from the time he’d fallen asleep in one of the common rooms, and Bob and Fanboy had started stacking things on top of him, to see how long it’d take him to wake up (four coffee mugs, two couch cushions, nine folded flight suits, six F/A-18 manuals, a carefully balanced Halo, and it’d been one of the coffee mugs falling to the floor and shattering that’d done the trick).

But you still held your breath when you pulled away from him, hoping he wouldn’t wake. When he didn’t stir, you propped yourself up on your elbow, looking down at him. 

He really was just so beautiful. 

Curled on his side, he looked sweeter than normal, but sleep had done nothing to diminish his handsomeness. He nuzzled deeper into one of your silk pillowcases, an endearing gesture that had you wishing you didn’t have drills in a couple hours. He still didn’t wake, but he did mumble something when the bed shifted, and you kept your steps light as you walked out of the room. 

No need to wake him until it was necessary. 

You ran through an abbreviated morning routine in the bathroom, before padding though the house to look for some tea. The sun shone in a slender patch through the morning shadows in your small kitchen, and you hefted yourself onto the countertop into that sliver of light, humming contentedly as you felt the warm rays over your skin. The kettle was within arms reach, as were the cinnamon rolls and your ipad, and you opened the sticky pastries as you flipped through your apps until you found the New York Crossword puzzle.

You were a couple bites into your second cinnamon roll when you heard the floors creaking in the hallway, getting louder. 

“What’s an eight letter word for Roger the Dodger?” you asked, not looking up. 

“God, I hate that I know this,” Javy mumbled to himself, from the door, before he sighed dramatically. “It’s Staubach.”

You typed the name in, your eyes widening when it completed the row. “Didn’t know you were a football guy.”

“I’m not,” he still sounded somewhat chagrined, “Jake idolizes the man more than Cyclone.”

You looked up at him, prepared to make some quick quip, but as you took in the sight of Javy standing in your doorway, eyes still sleepy, body still lax, you genuinely forgot words. 

He looked like a dream. 

The tshirt he’d slept in was wrinkled, and he rested a shoulder against the doorframe, slouching slightly. He looked comfortable, he looked like it was normal for him to be in a tshirt and boxers in your kitchen, first thing in the morning, fresh-faced and almost-smiling at you. 

 After everything in the last two days, after spending the night with the man, you knew you had nothing to feel bashful over, but it was still a lot to process—the reality of Javy being here, like this. 

“Hi,” you said, stupidly. 

“Hey,” he said, and his lips spread in a smile. The sun on your skin seemed cooler, like it was a lesser force than the light of his smile, and you shifted in your seat, brushing at your mouth with the back of your hand, hoping you didn’t have frosting all over your face.

“Want one?” you offered, gesturing to the pyrex of cinnamon rolls. 

“Sure,” Javy shrugged, pushing away from the door. 

You didn’t think you could look at him, barefoot in your kitchen and walking slowly towards you, without combusting, so you nudged the cinnamon rolls closer to him, and looked back at the crossword. 

In your peripherals, you saw Javy pull a roll out of the dish, and start unwinding it with his fingers. His shoulder was practically leaned against yours, and he seemed content with the silence, so you went back to your crossword. You could feel his attention on the screen, but you didn’t mind, and the sun felt nice against your skin as it crept higher in the sky. 

“Hmph,” Javy went to say something before he remembered his mouth was full of frosting, chewing aggressively for a second or two until he was clear. “This isn’t fair.”

You looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. “What isn’t?”

Javy frowned down at the last bit of cinnamon roll in his hands, before popping it into his mouth with a shrug. “Too good of a morning,” he said, like that made any sense at all.

When you didn’t react to that, Javy looked up at you, like he was waiting. He also was licking frosting off his fingers, like that was casual, and you shook your head, letting him know you needed more context. 

“Just like,” he started, his tongue ghosting over his thumb, “waking up in your house, that smells like cinnamon because you made cinnamon rolls after you met my mom yesterday, before we made out and, you know, cuddled to sleep…I don’t know, it just sounds fake. Like, too good.”

You pressed your lips together, but you knew it wouldn’t hide your smile. 

“Now what?” Javy asked, and you shook your head. 

How did you say hey you’re too pretty to be real and also say things like that and also look like THIS with pillow marks on his face or wasn’t standing barefoot in your kitchen with frosting on his fingers?

So you leaned forward on the counter and kissed him, pressed your lips to his and licked the frosting off his tongue. And maybe you got what he was saying, because it wasn’t fair, it was too good, now that you knew how Javy tasted like first thing in the morning. 

Javy pulled a long breath in through his nose, his shoulders rising as he pushed away from where he’d been leaning on the counter to stand in front of you. One of his hands ghosted over your knees, now digging into his stomach, and you parted them, so he could stand closer to you. It was kind of like that first night on your stoop, where the steps had given you extra height you didn’t have normally, but this time Javy was physically between your legs, and you decided that was nice too. His other hand was on the back of your neck, his thumb stroking up your jaw as he cradled your head with the rest of his hand.

“Why isn’t the weekend longer?” Javy mumbled between kisses, his words lingering between your lips. The momentary separation caused by his words gave you an excuse to kiss the corner of his mouth, then down his jawline.

“It should definitely be longer,” you whispered back, your tongue teasing down his neck, and Javy leaned more heavily into you. You peppered his neck with light kisses, knowing the last thing either of you needed was to leave him with marks, but too enchanted by the way his breathing quickened to stop. 

“Fuck,” Javy gritted, the words punched out of him when your lips grazed over his pulse point in his throat. God, you liked the sound of that, his surprise and his desire, his gorgeous voice gone rough. You hummed in response, and at the vibrations, Javy’s hand tightened on the back of your neck, and you knew you were playing with fire, but you wanted to hear more of it.

“And if the weekend were longer,” you asked, pressing your lips to the place where his pulse was racing, not at all surprised that your own voice sounded breathless, “what would we do about it?”

Javy laughed, something darker than a chuckle, and he pulled back to capture your mouth with his again. There was something urgent in this kiss, hungrier than before, and you felt yourself pulling closer to the edge of the counter, closer to him. 

You felt warm all over, felt heat pooling low in your stomach, felt your body reacting faster than it had any right to. You didn’t know if Javy could taste your desperation on your kiss, but you pressed closer to him, and he made a low sound in his throat, like he approved. 

But then he pulled back, resting his forehead against yours. His thumb stroked up your neck, his other hand still settled on your knee, and he pulled in a deep breath through his nose. 

“You’re not playing fair,” he said, but he sounded more awed than upset.

You blinked your eyes open, your skin heating when you realized he was watching you already. 

“We’ve an hour before we have to be on base,” you whispered, not an excuse, but an offer. Your skin still felt so hot, and you could feel your pulse pounding in your fingertips, in your core.  

Javy groaned, his eyes fluttering shut and you felt him shake his head from the way his forehead moved against yours. 

“Baby, you know an hour’s not enough for what I want to do with you.”

You shivered, either from the deep timbre of his voice, the serious meaning his words held, or the sweet way he’d said ‘with’ instead of ‘to’.

“Well now you’re not being fair,” you muttered, and you could hear something like a pout on your voice, but it wasn’t your fault. Not when Javy was giving you ideas for over-an-hour activities for the two of you.

He laughed again, warmer this time, and pulled you to him again. This kiss was chaste, comfortable, the kind of easy like you knew there was a next time. And as much as you wanted to sink into it, you knew he was right. 

“Let me take you to dinner,” he said, and the implicit “first” wasn’t lost on either of you. “Better, I can make you dinner.”

Your eyes narrowed, and you were dangerously close to asking him to pinch you, to make sure you were still awake.

“You can make me dinner, Coyote,” you accepted, keeping your voice light, since he was apparently determined to be a gentleman this morning. 

Of course, using his callsign had Javy’s head dropping to your shoulder, and another half-hearted groan escaping out of him. 

“’m trying to be a good person, here,” he said into your shoulder, and you patted his chest lightly, consolingly.

“One of us has to be,” you muttered, and he huffed into your sweatshirt. “Alright, let me down.”

He stilled, almost imperceptibly, but you got the feeling he’d gone from nuzzling into your sweatshirt to hiding in it. 

“Give me a sec,” he mumbled, shifting his hips slightly. The motion drew your eyes downward between the two of you and—ah. 

You shouldn’t be surprised. 

Javy was tall, it was early in the morning, boxers were thin material...but the sight of his impressive erection brought back the heat of your make out session, and then it was your turn to shift on the counter. It wasn’t even entirely lascivious, it was just nice to know you were wanted, that there was physical proof of it. 

“Sorry,” Javy’s voice was still muffled in your sweatshirt, as he mistook your arousal for discomfort. “I’ve just been thinking about this for so long.”

He trailed off, and you thought quickly about the time left in the morning, how you both needed to be focused at work today, and if there was a way to compromise–take the edge off, so to speak, without leading further down distraction. And you thought of how he’d barely touched you this morning, but his voice and the way he moved were dizzying enough, and your hand that’d been on his chest wound up to rest along the side of his face. He turned into your hand, a small gesture that made your heart flutter, and your decision solidified. 

“Do me a favor?” you asked quietly, and you felt when Javy nodded. “Sit at the table?”

Javy lifted up from your shoulder, confused, but when you smiled at him, he moved to do as you asked. 

You didn’t close your legs, still spread from where he’d stood between them, but you covered the cinnamon rolls and pushed your ipad away from you. You watched him cross the small width of your kitchen, settling into the chair facing you. His legs were somewhat spread still, and you knew you could do this.

“What have you thought of,” you asked, nervousness and anticipation mixing in your voice, “when you thought of this?”

For a moment, Javy was still, confused, and then his eyes fell to where your hand was running along the hem of your pajama shorts. He let out his breath slowly, and then his chin lifted as he sat back in the chair. He pushed his shoulders back as he settled, preening, his feet flat on the floor, and his eyes watched you intently. 

“You want me to talk you through it?” he asked, his voice somehow even deeper, and it was like you could feel it washing over you. 

You nodded, not trusting your voice to come out steady, and were rewarded by a gorgeous, slow smile spreading across the face of the man at your kitchen table. 

“Yeah, I can do that, honey,” he said, his voice soft enough to make you hold your breath, desperate to catch every word. He looked at you for a long moment, his gaze heavy, like he was committing this sight to memory, and you got the feeling it wasn’t going to be as simple as him telling you his fantasies. 

Namely because he was going to be the one giving directions.

“Pet yourself,” Javy said, voice steady and deep, “over your shorts.”

You couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped you when you did as he asked, your hand sliding between your legs. The contact was muted through the cotton, but your body still reacted to it, or maybe just to the fact that it was Javy who’d asked. 

You stroked your hand between your legs, feeling your arousal building, feeling the slide of your hand shift as your body warmed to your touch. 

“That’s it,” Javy breathed. “Press down, just like that…fuck, honey.”

He broke off, and you looked up at him, to find him pressing a hand over himself. Your legs twitched, and you felt your fingers grow wet, as your arousal soaked through the thin material of your shorts. 

“You’re wet for me, already,” Javy said, his voice awed. “I can see it from here, baby, damn. Damn, I wish those were my fingers between your pretty thighs.”

You whimpered again at the curses falling past Javy’s lips, after all his restraint and chivalry. He sounded so good, he sounded like he had it as bad for you as you did for him. 

“This isn’t what I thought about,” he said, his voice low, answering your question. “Because when I thought about it, I’d be right there, between your legs. It would be me feeling you soak through your panties. I could touch you, smell you, taste you, whatever I wanted, and you’d be looking at me–fuck, just like that, honey.”

His words were heady, and you could see the way he meant them. His eyes were intense and you looked away, your touch now feeling more like a tease than a beginning. 

“Need more, Jay,” you managed, your voice shaking. “Please.”

“Anything, honey,” Javy said immediately, “anything. Bet you don’t know you could have anything if you asked like that, looking like this. I always imagined–okay, slide your hand into your panties, now, you can touch yourself.”

As you drew your hand back up to your waist, Javy kept pressing down on his dick through his boxers. It looked uncomfortable, but he was so focused on you, that you didn’t push him, not yet. 

At the first brush of your fingers over your clit, you sighed in relief, and Javy groaned. 

“You sound so pretty, baby, fuck. Just like I imagined, so sweet. Does that feel good? Your fingers on your pussy, for me?”

You nodded, feeling feverish. 

“So good, Javy,” you gasped, your fingers finding a familiar rhythm. “I’m so wet, I feel—fuck, it feels so good.”

Javy’s hips jerked up, and you licked your lips, knowing what you needed. 

“Let me see you,” you asked, your voice bordering on a whine.

His head fell back as your request registered, his hips rising of their own accord again. 

“You’re gonna kill me,” he said to the ceiling, but then he shifted his hips to slide his boxers down to his knees, and pulling his hard dick out.

You moaned, a wanton sound that seemed to echo around the quiet kitchen, but fuck, look at him. Proportions were one thing, but he was so thick, and when he wrapped his big hand around himself, you shivered imagining how your hand would look in comparison. You watched a tremor work across his chest as Javy pulled his hand over himself, and your thighs spread wider of their own accord. 

“Fuck, honey, how you’re looking at me right now…” Javy’s words pulled your eyes back to his, and you knew what he meant. 

His eyes were dark, so intense, focused on you and you could feel his desire for you, palpable. His jaw clenched as he stroked himself, and you wondered absently if you could come just from the sight of him. 

Then you realized his hips were moving.

 It was subtle, just the flex in his thighs, but you could see a steady motion he was trying to disguise as he pumped into his hand, and you felt it in your core. Your own hips were shifting, then, pressing into the circling motion of your fingers in time with Javy’s movements. 

“Are you moving with me, baby?” Javy asked, his voice rough. “Fuck, it should be me; I want you on my fingers, on my thighs; God, honey, the way you move–”

You whimpered at his words, working your hand faster. 

“I want that so bad, Jay,” you managed. “You’d make me feel so good.”

“So fucking good,” Javy said, like a promise. “Can you slide a finger in, honey, feel how tight you are.”

You did as he asked, moaning as you clenched down on the intrusion, your hips still rocking. Your body adjusted, and it was good but then you looked over at Javy. His thick cock, a pearl of precum appearing at the tip of it, the hefty width of it, fucking steadily into his hand…his broad hand, wide fingers, also so thick…and the your hand felt small, felt insufficient, and you whimpered, shaking your head. 

“’s not enough,” you whined, your voice sounding pitiful, wanton, and Javy groaned across the room. That sound was the most beautiful thing you’d heard, masculine and needy and perfect, and you added another finger, like that would satisfy the ache in your core. 

“Did you add another one, honey?” Javy asked tightly. “You need my hands, don’t you, need me to make you feel full? Fuck, baby, you’d take me so well, I know it.”

You fought the irrational need to cry; you wanted that too, wanted it desperately. But you thrust your fingers into yourself, let Javy’s beautiful voice wash over you, and it could be enough. 

His chest was rising and falling quickly as his breathing got more labored, and you felt like you were coming out of your skin; you’d give anything to feel his panting breath over your skin, his chest heaving as he worked both of you higher. That hand around his leaking cock, how it would feel over your pussy, playing with your breasts, on your throat–

“You’re doing so good for me, baby,” Javy groaned, his eyes glued to where your wrist emerged from the hem of your shorts. “Those whimpers are killing me, shit, you sound so good. Can’t wait to hear how you’ll sound on my dick, when it’s so fucking deep in that pussy.”

You moaned, you felt so taught, like everything was hanging on Javy’s words, on how good you were doing for him, on how much he wanted you. Your hand was aching, and this was so much sooner than you expected, but you felt your toes curl and your thighs started to tremble as Javy’s thrusts into his hand sped up. 

“I’m so close, Jay,” you cried, your head falling back and your hips starting to lose their rhythm, and Javy groaned at whatever he saw when he looked at you. 

“Fucking beautiful, honey, you’re so gorgeous. Let me see it, please, come for me. Come for me like you’re going to tonight, after I’ve fed you and fucked you, after we’ve spent all day imagining my dick so deep in that pussy, after I get to taste those moans off your lips, come on, honey–”

Your fingers pressed deep into your cunt and the promise and pleading of Javy’s words with the steady thrust of his hips sent you over the edge. Your back arched and your orgasm screamed through you, summoned by Javy’s gorgeous voice and his thick fingers and he hadn’t even touched you but you felt him, you felt that it was for him, and you came hard, the world blurring as Javy praised you from across the room.  

“Oh, fuck, baby, that’s it. So good,” he was panting, but you could hear his pride like a caress. “You did so good. Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum, honey, you’re just so pretty like this, fuck–”

Javy cut off and you opened your eyes to see his hips still as he thrust into his palm, and then ribbons of cum spurted over the front of his tshirt. 

You clenched down on your fingers, still slowly soothing yourself, your emptiness magnified with the sight of him finding his release. God, he was so beautiful. 

His chest heaving, his strong thighs flexed, his brow tense and his eyelashes fluttering, he looked like a work of art, like something divine. His jaw loosened as he finished, his lips parting and a soft sound of satisfaction eased out of him and you felt it settle under your skin. 

The kitchen was quiet, the air thick with pleasure and relief and so much unsaid, and your eyes drifted shut, still trying to catch your breath. When Javy laughed again, it was musical, light and sweet. And when you looked over at him again, he wore the softest smile on his face, a million kind things in his eyes as he looked at you. 

“Shit, Cross,” he sighed, laughter in his voice. “How are we supposed to make it through the day, now?”

You smiled back, tired and sated, with no idea in hell.

//

taglist (folks who always humor me, folks who reblogged the last chapter, or folks who sent asks to be tagged): @laracrofted @mxgyver @callsign-fangirl @bradshawsbitch @ninaxwaffles @blowmymbackout @daggerspare-standingby @javihoney @sebsxphia @princessphilly @roosterforme @maddiemunson333 @vallyb @hearttohearteyes @bioodforbiood @gretagerwigsmuse @rae-gar-targaryen @hangmanbrainrot @beyondthesefourwalls @mandylove1000 @blckgrl-sunflower

[pedrito-friskito]

SLEEPOVER CELEBRATION YAY!!! Thanks so much for tagging me, love! Can I request "You're more than a fling" with our lovely Matt Murdock? Please and thank you?!

thank YOU for the submission darling 💕 ok ok ok starting friday night fever with my MAN matthew murdock let’s gooooooo!

🔥friday night fever!🔥

You genuinely wonder if Matt knows how handsome he is.

Like, he must know, right? He’s not immune to the attention, not deaf to the compliments that follow him around wherever he goes, and you know for a fact he’s no newbie when it comes to dating. Not that the list is long, but he’s…experienced. And good-looking, and charming, and the list goes on and on. Matt’s not perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but being gorgeous goes a long way.

And being an absolute fucking angel in bed helps too.

He must know something, you think, but you genuinely wish it didn’t get to you so hard.

It’s been a few months, a couple dates that have each lasted more than twenty-four hours. You hadn’t planned to put out on the first date, stigma and all that, but when one glass of wine turned into two and the first kiss made you feel like your blood was on fire, that was that. And the silk sheets? Added bonus.

So you’re…something. You don’t really know what you are, and you’re loathe to admit you’re too nervous to ask Matt, to have the ‘conversation’ about what you both want, what you both think about how things are going. If he asked you, you know what you’d say, but the fear of his response is holding you back.

And right now, fear be damned, you’re just annoyed.

Josie’s is full of people, like any other Friday night, the bar littered with patrons and the pool tables full to burst. Karen and Foggy were here at one point, but they said their goodbyes three beers ago. You, on the other hand, have been sat at the table across from Matt, watching the trio of women at the bar ogle him over their shoulders, whispering and pointing to each other. You stuff a few peanuts in your mouth, trying not to huff too audibly as one of them wanders over, all smiles and big eyes and “my friends at the bar dared me to…”. It makes your stomach turn, the embarrassment that you can’t just find the courage to ask, forcing you to keep your mouth shut.

And Matt, ever the gentleman, brushes them off politely with a smile. “Have a good night.”

After the third time, you can’t keep the exasperation under wraps any longer, and slam your beer onto the table a little too loudly. Matt flinches, face turning towards you, brow furrowing on his face. “You okay?”

You give a short sigh, breathing through your nose, and rub the back of your neck. “Yeah, fine.”

His head tilts to the side slowly, a tiny grin twitching the corner of his mouth. “Say it like you mean it.” Laughing, you shake your head, sipping the beer again, but Matt pushes. “C’mon, talk to me.”

“What are we?”

You could cut the tension that hangs in the air with a knife. The words fall out too quickly, your heart picking up in your chest as you lean forward on your elbows, chewing your lip furiously as you watch the words sink in. The smile disappears, those full lips parting gently, and he leans back in his seat, hand curled around his beer bottle.

“What are we?” he echoes, and you feel like you might explode.

You suck back the rest of the beer, leaning into the liquid courage. “Yes, Matthew. You and me. This. Us. What is this?”

His brow is still pulled down, and his jaw twitches. “What do you think this is?”

“I don’t know!” you cry, the exasperation and fear bubbling over again. “Like…am I just a fling, or what? Cuz I know you have a line-up of women drooling over you and I just—”

Matt leans forward, curling his fingers around your wrist, squeezing lightly before he’s pushing his hand up along your forearm and settling in the crook of your elbow. “I don’t give a shit about any of them, you know that, right?” he asks. “Are you…” He brushes his thumb along the thin skin. “You’re more than a fling. God, sweetheart, you’re so much more than that.”

You just stare at him, frozen.

He stands from his seat, rounding the table quickly and grabbing your face in his hands. You’re breathless, tilting your head back as he lowers his face to yours. He kisses you roughly, hot and wet, tongue sliding past your teeth, the both of you tasting like beer and shots of tequila. It’s a possessive kiss, his body pushing forward when your hands land on his hips, fingers hooking into the waist of his pants. His knuckles lock in your hair, tugging just enough to leave you desperate for more.

“C’mon,” he murmurs as he pulls back just slightly, moving his lips to your cheek and leaving a lingering kiss there. “Let me take you home, show you just what you are to me, hmm?”

You just nod, whispering a soft yes as he reaches for his cane and coat at his chair, grabbing your hand and heading for the door.

The trio of women at the bar are watching you as you go, their jaws dropped, the expressions on their faces telling you they just saw the kiss, and you just smile, following Matt into the night.

————— I have a taglist! if you’d like to be tagged in future works, please fill out this form!💕

matt murdock tags: @saintmurd0ck @lazyxsquirrel @moonlarking @mindidjarin @freshabogados @steadyasthe-flowers @whosfrankie @ancientbeing10 @plutoneu @grounderprincesslookspissed @hoewkeyesblue @simple_lovebot @glowstick-lesbian @itwasthereaminuteago @williamjzanders @e-dubbc11 @lunarpenumbra @minxsblog @bluestuesday @eatommo @a-zterisk @randomwords3000 @i-simp-much @kirsteng42 @loonymagizoologist @pariahsparadise @greeneyedblondie44 @sparklysandstorm @dead-pool-simp @ruhro7 @alyona-romanova @dropsofprecipitation @peterman-spideyparker @hellskitchenswhore @inthehouse0fflies @shadowzena43 @arson-tm @apageinthecastle @december16-1991 @urmomdotcom5678 @pastafossa @dropsofprecipitation @m00nkn1ghts @andrewlovebot @trickstersp8 @a-hopeless-fan @dracosluvbot @billyhargrovesprincess @detectivecarisi-1 @idrinkcoffeeandobsess

[father-time-and-baby-new-year]

alphabet boy

SYNOPSIS: You should feel extremely lucky that the handsome and intelligent Armin Arlert is your tutor...even when he's a little mean to you. Because that's your fault, isn't it? He wouldn't have to be mean if you weren't so damn stupid.

PAIRING: Armin x FEM!Reader

DEDICATED TO: armin fuckers. non armin fuckers, i hope i can convert you.

TW: dubcon touching, manipulative behavior, gaslighting, academia shaming,

WC: 1.8k

“Maybe you’re not cut out for this class.”

He said it so casually, a comment spoken between the flip of textbook pages. You couldn’t shake off the undeniable hurt.

“I-Uhm, uh, yeah I have to study a lot...but I like this class. It was a pain to get off the waitlist.” You keep your voice optimistic and light, hoping to mask the offense taken.

You don’t know why Armin would say that, but maybe he was just being logical...he’s seen you struggle, of course, he’d think the class was too hard for you.

The blond sighs, closing his novel that he brought with him while he waited for you to finish your practice problems.

“You can barely keep up with the weekly homework assignments. You didn’t even hand in your assignment last week, right? Better drop out now before the add and drop deadline.” His voice is soft and cold at the same time. It’s unnerving.

You tuck your hair behind your ears, eyes set low, too ashamed to meet your tutor’s. Armin had been your tutor for the past few weeks now, and you thought it was going pretty well. He was so so smart that you couldn’t help but be a little starstruck. He was handsome too, short-cropped blond hair, wide blue eyes, with a wardrobe that was composed of slacks and sweaters.

Usually, he was always overly polite and charming. You could make countless mistakes and his patience was endless. He had some off-days where he was a little withdrawn and quiet. You never held it against him though, knowing he had no obligation to make idle chatter. But sometimes, you could feel his chilly gaze watching you even though he had a book propped open.

“I emailed the professor, he was really chill about it. Last week was really rough for me, you know? I wasn’t feeling well and...”

“You know excuses don’t fly in the real world right? You’re in college now. Professor Ackerman was just being courteous. He probably thinks you’re lazy.” Even though you try not to look at him, you can feel Armin’s azure blues burn holes into you. There was this quiet intensity about him that made you worry about when the restraints would come off.

Armin can’t help but let condescension drip over his words. Any self-respecting person would defend themselves, but not you. Not when you’re already broken by your own insecurities that make it that much easier for him to trample on.

He can already see pearly-sheened tears leaking from the corner of your hopeless eyes. How cute. You part your pretty little mouth to say something, but no words come out. You close your mouth soon enough, looking every bit like a dumb little airhead.

So he continues: “You know your classmates learned all the first few chapters from high school right? You’re the only one starting fresh.” He moves closer, elbows inching closer to infiltrate your little personal-space bubble, knees knocking into yours under the desk.

More tears form under your lower lashes, and Armin mentally counts the crystal droplets. You’re recoiling into yourself like a shrinking violet which only encourages Armin to go just a little farther.

“You don’t even have your major picked out yet. This is a core class for your classmates, you know. You’re wasting your-no, everyone’s time.”

Not wanting to cry in front of your tutor, you rub your eyes with the sleeve of your jacket, fully aware of how utterly pathetic you look right now.

In a small voice, you manage to utter, “I have a right...to be in this class. Even though I’m slow now, I think with some decent amount of studying...I’ll catch up. Even if I’m not-” you take a deep breath, “as quick as my classmates, I still really enjoy what I learn. And..and...I think at the end of the day, that’s what really matters!”

Armin scoffs, “Do you really like the class or are you staying for Ackerman? God knows how many fangirls he’s had to put up with.”

Even as he spoke those words, Armin knew it wasn’t entirely true. You admired the man zealously and had read all of his published papers. Honestly, your admiration had always annoyed him.

You wince at the insinuation but you could feel the anger simmering in your gut, “You have no right to imply that! Wh-why-” Your voice breaks, “are you being so mean?”

Armin thinks you’re so cute, the way you jut out your bottom lip. So cute and pathetic. The corners of his lips quirk upwards. It’s almost endearing how you say “mean” like it’s the worst thing a person can be.

“Am I being mean or am I being realistic?” The blond coos, “I’m your tutor, right? I know the best for you.”

He takes your silence as an invitation to goad you harder: “You’re only upset because I’m telling you what you don’t want to hear.”

You don’t notice the proximity until Armin lays his hand over yours, squeezing the soft flesh of your palms. His voice is gentle as he reassures you: “Hey, hey, don’t cry. It’s okay.”

He made you cry, but you don’t have it in you to pull away from the only semblance of comfort given to you. His chair scrapes the floor as he sets it right beside yours, wrapping an arm around you, encouraging you to lean your head against his shoulder.

It’s a little sad but this is probably the most physical contact you’ve gotten in a while. You’re an utter mess, and on top of all that, touch-starved.

You’re still sniffling like a crybaby, trying to sort your own emotions out. You take a few deep breaths and force yourself to face the facts:

You’re behind.

The class is too much work for you.

Armin’s right, you’re upset because he’s telling you what you don’t want to hear.

“D-do you really think I should drop the class?” Your voice is so defeated, a pinch louder than a whisper.

His long fingers play with the ends of your hair, “I know this class is really important to you and we both want you to do well...so why don’t we increase our tutoring sessions? Maybe we should meet three times a week.”

He smiles at you, and it looks so genuine. You’re immensely grateful, you are, but confusion washes over you, “Wow, Uh, that’ll be great actually but um, uni tutoring services is once a week...so-”

Armin dismisses your concerns with a gentle wave of his hands, “Don’t worry, It’ll be off the books. Think of this as private tutoring. Of course, we’ll have to start meeting in my room from now on.”

While he doesn’t elaborate on why you have to meet in his dorm, you assume Armin has a good reason and it probably involves university-sanctioned student-tutor guidelines.

You’re stammering out thank-you’s, still trying to rub the tears out of your eyes until you feel a soft handkerchief wiping them away.

“It’s okay, don’t worry.” He reassures, “Don’t use your sleeve. It’s too rough for your pretty face.”

You blush under his words, wide eyes locked into his oceanic blues, “I d-don’t know if I’ll be able to compensate you f-for the private tutoring.”

His eyebrows crease as he gives you a smile full of pearly teeth, “You don’t have to worry about that for now.” His hands graze over your knuckles, “We’ll figure something out.”

“Thank you Armin.” You say it so sincerely, trying to muster the biggest smile you can after the blond essentially trampled over your self-esteem to only nurse it back with sweet promises.

“Well, we better finish today’s work then.” He responds calmly, not bothering to detangle himself from you. You can feel his body heat radiating onto you, and how his hand moved to casually rest on your thigh. But that’s normal right? If you think about it, Armin was not exactly adverse to touch. During your past tutoring sessions, his hand would always be on the small of your back or shoulders.

“Hey, you’re not getting distracted again, are you?” His voice is playful like he isn’t sliding his hand up and down the span of skin between your skirt and tights. When you don't respond, he pinches your inner thigh, eliciting a startled gasp from you.

"Focus." It's a demand so it must be followed.

Embarrassed, you nod your head and return your focus to the problem sets even though your hands are shaky as you grip the ballpoint pen.

You don’t notice how the blond’s eyes gleam under the fluorescent lighting at your easy compliance. He’s always liked obedient girls.

Your thighs are growing warmer, and it doesn’t help to have Armin peering over you. Still, you try your best to lull yourself to focus until a ringtone breaks your concentration.

Armin breaks away from you to find his phone and you find your body subconsciously missing the warmth. He lightly curses under his breath once he sees the contact name, but answers nonetheless.

“Yeah...sorry babe. I forgot. I’ll be right over.” He sounds apologetic but he looks downright bored.

And like that, the call is over. He looks over at you with an apology falling from his lips, “Sorry about that. I forgot I had something to do today. We’ll end early.”

Your throat is dry as you ask, “Was that your girlfriend?” You regretted your words the moment they escaped. That was none of your business. It doesn’t matter if he was holding you earlier. He was doing so because you were bawling like a baby. But why did he touch your thighs?

That doesn’t have to mean anything, you rationalize. Besides, Armin would never make a move on you. He was a handsome senior with a perfect GPA and a powerful position in the student government. Stupid freshman girls like you are not worth the time he so generously gives out.

The blond smirks, seeming to notice your internal struggle, “Something like that. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure she won’t distract me from our future sessions.”

That was a puzzling comment. His girlfriend supposedly distracting from your study time wasn’t even a concern you held.

“No, no, that’s ok.” You quickly assure, “You’ve already helped me out so much.”

The blond pats the top of your head like you were a puppy, “I’d do anything for my cute little student.”

The way your face heats up with a dark blush should be criminal. All he did was pat your head, and you’re looking at him starry-eyed like he didn’t grope your thighs under the table. Honestly, all your cute little blubbering had gone straight to his cock. Annie would have to handle his big problem.

These private sessions are going to be fun.

part I ---- complete

[blzzrdstryr]

Generous offering

Yandere!Zhongli x gn!Fatui Harbinger!reader

Wordcount:1843

CW:Yandere themes

There are several simple things one should know before dealing with the archons - be respectful and polite, speak only when you’re allowed to and most importantly - never forget that archons aren’t humans.

The first two rules are instinctive - it’s natural for humans to simper and bow before the forces far greater than them, while the latter is not; on the contrary it’s counterintuitive and unexpected. People tend to project, tend to humanize - they see kindness when there’s none and make a huge mistake of assuming that archons see things the way they see it.

Tsaritsa, for example, lacks humanity, despite holding the title of Goddess of Love. The love that she holds for you is different from love mothers and fathers give to their children, or love that young sweethearts share at night, it’s cold and impersonal and undeniably cruel.

Tsaritsa says that she loves all of you and she loves Snezhnaya, yet she lashes out a harsh and gruelling punishments at every perceived failure and rules her land with an iron fist, one would think that the cryo archon is a liar and a hypocrite, who uses pretty, flowery words to hide the atrocities she commits, but this perspective is flawed. Tsaritsa loves all of you and she loves Snezhnaya, she’s just not human enough to properly express this.

That’s why it’s a bit jarring to see the ancient lord of these lands in his mortal form - he lacks the same otherworldly terror and grandiose that every of Tsaritsa’s move and word carry, yet he also possesses the air of wisdom and elegance so refined that rare person can reach it. It’s easy to assume that he’s human.

Rex Lapis, or “Zhongli” as he calls himself now invites you to the Liuli pavillion the second day after your arrival, for tea and local cuisine as he says, and who are you to decline a God?

Liuli staff hurries and dashes around, preparing their best room for you - Fatui are known for their seemingly endless finances, no wonder they’re in haste. “Please make yourself comfortable, dear guests”, the waiter curtsies and leads you to the dining room, which happens to be richly furnished and decorated with high-quality darkwood furniture and the hand painted wall panels further accentuating the luxury of the restaurant.

One of these panels illustrate different scenes from the Liyuen mythos - a battle of mighty and wise adepti against the horde of demons, Rex Lapis aiding his people in building the Harbour and the most spectacular one - a majestic dark brown dragon with golden fur and feathers descending to the devoted worshippers, who in turn present him with their offerings and gratitude.

He orders tea and meals for both of you, as you start to converse about the plan that he is determined to bring into life - the so-called test of Liyue, and the guarantee of you obtaining his gnosis.

“And what about your colleague?”, he sips a bit of his tea, intense amber eyes piercing right through you. He looks both human and non-human in this moment, both undeniably mortal softness and frailty seen in his figure and the barely concealed divinity, the sense of awe slowly seeping into air mixing in one person.

“And what about him? Tsaritsa and you have negotiated everything beforehand, I will make sure that he plays his part properly”, he hums at your answer, lowering his gaze deep in thought. You start on your own tea.

Ah, Childe, if only he knew why exactly he’s here - a distraction and a scapegoat. You even feel bad for him - it’s truly unfair to be lied to by your own Goddess. However, it’s also not a big surprise - Childe is the loudest out of all Harbingers in all senses. Infamous for his skills and battle obsession, his name is enough to have people both shivering in fear and cursing him.

“What do you think of your archon? Was serving her of any use to you?”Rex Lapis unexpectedly asks.

You lean back in your seat, thinking what to say.

“Tsaritsa is a gentle soul, she declared war only to protect us, her subjects and I am ready to aid her in whatever undertaking she starts”.

“Will you continue to serve Tsaritsa, if her action might put you in danger, make you suffer and bring unnecessary grief?”, he leans closer to you, his human features distorting enough to reveal the ancient dragon sleeping inside. His eyes shine a cold golden glow and accurate fingernails morph into sharp, dark claws.

“Yes”, you breathe out, mesmerized and terrified by the sudden change: “Her love knows no bounds, yet she always puts the needs of the nation before anyone else. If my suffering can help Snezhnaya, then I will accept it with open arms”, he moves back at your answer, all draconic traces gone in an instance, upper corner of his lips subtly rising - whatever you said must’ve pleased him immensely.

The conversation flows back into the territory of plans to be realized, yet the cold sensation of dread still clings to you, your gut feeling yelling at you to get up and run. You remain seated to the end of your meeting, politely conversing with the God that terrifies you.

***

Days slowly grow into weeks and Childe acts just as you have expected - the Eleventh Harbinger might be smart, yet even he wouldn’t be able to see what two of you are scheming. Still, you request Ekaterine, a spy you planted in Northland bank, to keep you updated on the Tartaglia’s actions - extra caution never hurts.

You continue to meet up with geo archon, as you two discuss your next actions. Tartaglia has started cooperating with that blonde foreigner Signora has warned you about, and while this union doesn’t pose any threat to your plans, it’s always good to have a plan B, just in case something happens.

Sometimes your conversation develops into a more unexpected direction, as you find the archaic lord more chatty and tending to ramble, than any of Liyuen historians would dare to picture him as. One on such occasion he talks with you about dragons - benevolent deities who protect and bless their people in an exchange of generous offerings.

His eyes devour you, as he retells you ancient folktales and you suppress your discomfort, preferring to attribute his honestly unnerving behaviour down to his lack of humanity - he was never human in the first place.

That’s why you also prohibit yourself from viewing him as anything but God - Rex Lapis in his “Zhongli” persona is genuinely attractive, he’s well-mannered and obviously handsome and far more knowledgeable than any mortal should be. If you didn’t know of his true nature you would have fallen for him by now - it’s hard not to.

Life, how strange that wouldn’t sound, goes as usual - you get Ekaterine’s report on what Childe’s up to and if it’s something unexpected you book a Liuli pavilion room and send an invitation to the funeral parlour consultant. You only need to wait until Childe gets desperate enough and decides to use the sigils of permission to unleash the well-awaited chaos.

This routine however is soon broken by the appearance of familiar ashy-white hair in the distance. She doesn’t wear her signature mask or dress, nor are there agents at both of her sides, yet you can still clearly recognize her. Signora leaves the Wangsheng building in haste, cape with the hood concealing most of her face and figure, except the long locks of hair, peeking from inside.

What is she doing here?

You thought that Tsaritsa sent two of her servants - Tartaglia and you, him to “test” Liyue, you to oversee the former’s actions and obtain gnosis, there’s no need to send her too.

Your mind races, as you search for a logical explanation of Signora’s presence as your memory supplies the piece of first conversation you had with “Zhongli” - could it be that Tsaritsa also sent you to play a role you have no idea of?

Cryo archon is a goddess of love and her love is cruel and unforgiving, she has sacrificed countless chess pieces before, so it wouldn’t be surprising if she did that again - you are nothing but a pawn after all, one of the tools she uses to exact her will and force her vision, all of the Harbingers are.

You want to believe that you can accept and resign to whatever hardship and fate your Goddess might subject you to. You can’t.

***

Adepti and Qixing converse at the pier of the seaport, as you hurry to the Northland Bank, a slight smile playing on your lips - Childe has finally done it - he summoned an ancient god to lure out Rex Lapis, ultimately proving that Liyue can stand without him.

There are sounds of heated argument heard when you open the building’s door and then you see it - Signora and Tartaglia exchanging barely concealed insults and “Zhongli” standing nearby.

“[Harbinger]? What are you doing here?”, the ginger shifts his gaze onto you, a rare emotion of hurt and disbelief flickering in his dead fish eyes. “Of course, Tsaritsa sent you too”, he smiles, angry and disappointed. “Seems that whole world wants to make a bad guy out of me”, he stomps out of the room, leaving you with Signora and “Zhongli”

“[Harbinger]”

“Signora'', you acknowledge each other, after she trails exiting Childe with her eyes.

“I am here to take the gnosis of Rex Lapis”, she says and you nod, accepting that your Goddess lied to you too: “Tsaritsa also asked me to give you this letter”, she extends her arm, a thick envelope with the familiar seal catching your attention.

With the trembling hands you snatch it out of her hold and almost rip the envelope - for what reason did Tsaritsa send you here?

She writes that you need to stay in Liyue for an undetermined period of time to upkeep “the agreement” made between her and Rex Lapis. You read her message silently, yet when your eyes trace over these words, the sensation of “ “Zhongli’s” eyes on you becomes ten times sharper and stifling. You don’t know what to do.

The other Harbinger leaves too, taking the gnosis with her, as “Zhongli” takes a couple of steps to you, touching your shoulder in a somewhat reassuring gesture. “[First]”, he starts, tone sympathetic and soothing. You don’t fall for it.

“You had your hand in it, didn't you?”, you hiss and accuse, throwing an angry glance at him, momentarily forgetting about the first two rules of dealing with archons.

He smiles, revealing two sharp fangs, his surprisingly scaly hands snaking around yours. “Yes”, Rex Lapis admits, and looks nothing like gentle and knowledgeable “Zhongli”. How could you forget? Archons aren’t humans, humanity is just a fancy dress they don to toy with mortals. He is the dragon, not the benevolent deity that is painted on the wall panels of Liuli pavillion, but a greedy and ancient creature, hungry for gifts and gratitude.

You are his generous offering.

[fieldofdaisiies]

Elucien | The Morning After

type: fluff to smut to fluff warning(s): fluff, smut and suggestive talk word count: 1455

this follows the mating bond acceptance story from the Elucien Week, but can obviously also be read without the first part

*all rights reserved*

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

"Good morning, Lord Lucien,” Elain beamed, face still flushed. Leaning upwards, she placed her cheek on her upper arm which she had curled under her head.

Now also the emissary turned towards her, grinning, cheeks rosy and the bedsheet shifting with his movement.

"Good morning, my lady. You look absolutely exquisite."

His smiled widened while he lifted his hand to brush a few strands of hair out of his mate’s face before curling one starnd around his finger and playing with it. Elain giggled, bluntly staring at the deadly handsome face of her mate. Her mate. Her Lucien.

"Mate!" she squealed loudly, immediately smacking a hand over mouth. Whoops, she actually planned on only shouting it in her head.

"Yes, mate. From now on until the very last—" Slowly brushing his lips over hers, Lucien stopped mid-sentence, the frenzy momentarily taking over. “—until the very last day of our immortal life." 

Elain felt his lips curl against hers—he was grinning. And gods, when her mate grinned she was sure he could even light up the darkest part of the Hewn City.

"I love you, Lucien."

"I know,” Lucien chuckled, rolling back onto his back and pulling Elain with him who was now laying on his bare chest, her own nude body flush with his. 

Crinkling her nose, she softly slapped his shoulder. "Normally the male would say—"

"I love you too. More than I ever believed possible. More than is even possible, my beautiful flower." Grinning Lucien moved both his arms under the sheet, cupping Elain’s bum in his large, warm hands, squeezing.

A squeaky squeal left Elain while she tried to hide her deep red cheeks and the huge grin by burying her face in his chest. She also loved him more than she had ever believed to be possible. And then at the same time he drove her mad. He made her go crazy. He made her think and do things that she never believed she was ever capable of. And then turned her crazy with need and want and longing for him. Gods, she wanted him. And she never wanted to leave the bed. Never ever. Never. She wanted to stay tangled in the sheets with him forever and—

"What are you thinking about, my lady? The change in your scent is quite…interesting." A smirk crept over the fiery male’s lips, squeezing her bum again, slowly moving her against his own body, against his—

Oh gods! Against her very soft and sensitive parts, he was…hard and ready.

"I believe I am thinking about the same thing you are thinking about." Her uttering was muffled while she was placing a few featherlight kisses to his chest.

"Is that so, my lovely flower? What exactly are you thinking about?" 

That was also what drove her made about him. He made her leave her comfort zone. He wanted her to be bold and…naughty. Something she was not yet so…comfortable with.

"I…I want more…more of you. More of what we did last night," she whispered and felt his chest vibrate under her. "I want it now! And you…what do you want?" 

Elain slowly sat up on him, smiling shyly down at her mate, his red hair an absolute mess around his head. Her upper half was on full display for him, but she did not mind. Elain had always been a bit self-conscious about her breasts being so small. Not anymore. Not after the previous night where Lucien had told her around a million times how perfect her body was and that he had never seen another female so beautiful. And Elain belived it. The genuine tone in Lucien’s voice had told her that she really could believe it. He had meant it.

"My lovely lady, you know what I want?” he softtly bounced her up one time which made Elain nearly tumble forward and she quickly braced her hands on his chest. 

“I want you to be on top." Gaping, Elain’s mouth opened and closed and opened again while she blankly stared at her mate. Was he serious? Gods, she had no idea how to do that? How to move and what to do with all her body parts.

"Unless you don’t want to. I do not want you to do anything you don’t want, flower." Shaking her head, Elain bit down on her lip. Slowly she ran one finger down his chest, stopping where the coarse hair trailed up his lower belly.

"I want to…but I need guidance. You have to show me what and how to do it."

Slowly letting his hands trail up her legs, before curling his fingers around her thighs, right where her bum started, Lucien slowly lifted his mate up. He moved her and finally let her sink down on his rigid length. So terribly slowly that she had enough time to adjust to his size, but also that she felt every glorious inch move into her. Crying out in pleasure, Elain squeezed her eyes shut and dug her nails into her mate’s chest.

"Is that alright, my lady?"

"Mo-re tha-a-an alright. Holy gods!” 

Lucien’s mouth escaped a deep, primal sounding noise when Elain’s body was finally flush with his and he started moving her. ”Just like that. Keep moving just like that, flower. Cauldron, you make me feel so good,” Lucien panted, digging his finger tips into Elain’s hips, rocking her faster. Was it him rocking her? No, actually Elain had started moving on her own and that… that nearly threw her mate over the edge. Gods, his mate was perfect!

Lucien entered a delirious state. Was it caused by watching Elain’s small but utterly perfect breasts bounce up and down? Or by the soft moans escaping her lips? Or how good she felt around him? Or the eager and terribly adorable look on her face? Or how…gods, how she all of sudden leaned forward and let her delicate hands slide over his warm, broad chest? Rocking her hips faster, she leaned up him, kissing him and consequently moaned into his mouth when the emissary hit the perfect spot — hit it over and over again.

"I need to—"

"I know, let go. Come for me, little fawn." No edging, no teasing. Not this time. Not when there were so many times ahead.

Lucien kept one hand on her hip, the other hand moved over mouth, hoping to catch the scream-y cry that left his mates mouth. It probably wasn’t too smart to accept the bond in Rhys and Feyre‘s River estate and not knowing if they had returned already or not. 

Softly guiding her through her height, Lucien kept a steady pace smiling up at his mate who looked—she looked disheveled and actually utterly destroyed. Some primal part of him felt really proud of being the cause for that. Some other more rational part felt a bit bad.

"You…oh gods…haven’t finished…yet, have you?" Elain panted, half-closed eyes glimpsing down at Lucien, still bouncing on his hips. Lucien only barely shook his head and brought one hand up to wipe it over his forehead. 

"Flip us over and do what you did last night! Please do that again,” Elain breathed out, rocking her hips forward once again which made Lucien growl. “Please.”

Lucien complied to his mate’s more than happily. 

Flipping them over, he slid one hand up her arm, linking their hands next to her hand, his forehead pressed against hers when he hit home. He buried himself to the hilt which made Elain’s toes curl and her back arch of the bed.

Capturing his mouth with hers, Elain wrapped her legs around his hips, wanting as much contact with his body as possible. When Lucien again wanted to move a hand over her mouth, the middle Archeron sister shook her flushed and in sweat covered head, "Gods no, everyone should hear how good you make me feel. Everyone. Everyone should hear how good Lucien is making his mate feel!" she screamed the last part, giggling loudly before another moan escaped her throat. 

Lucien was absolutely overwhelmed by his mate and what she had just done. Loosening every restraint he had on himself, he pounded her into the mattress, making the bed shake and rattle, the bed frame hit the wall and he knew that by the next day he probably had to buy a new bed. His mouth trailed down Elain’s jaw, to her neck and to her shoulder, his tongue softly gliding over her skin. 

 Elain’s walls once again trembled and squeezed him and then…then he came. Into her and on her, but Elain did not mind, entering another wave of pleasure, bliss and utter satisfaction. She came with him, wreathing and panting heavily. 

Slowly sliding out of her, Lucien dropped down on the mattress next to her, immediately pulling Elain’s body close to him.

"My little fawn, gods I love you so much. But…but you know Feyre had definitely heard us if she has already returned."

"The stress is on if. And who cares? I constantly have to hear Rhys growl and Feyre…well, you know,” Elain chuckled, rolling her eyes while interlacing her fingers with her mate’s.

Lucien hummed in delight and squeezed Elain’s hand tightly. "I am just happy Nesta is not here. She would have skinned me alive if she had heard that." 

Now Elain turned towards her mate, grinning, panting and her chest still heaving. "She knows what we have done last night, I believe that is anyways what she wants to do to you,” Elain smirked while Lucien’s eyes widened. 

Leaning downwards, Lucien brushed a kiss to Elain’s forehead, "Then you will have to protect me, my lady."

"Always, Lord Lucien!"

tags: @rippahwrites @shadowhunter2003 @my-inner-crisis@ladyelain @acourtofthought @itwasalwaysaboutthetea @multifictional

[katsukikitten]

In which Shoto is an asshole Oni and I am the author that wrote the majority of this fic tipsy, you’re welcome! Bnharemcollab masterlist found here

Warnings: Non con bruv. Claws horns? He's an oni bud

"And they say he's been stealing the hearts of beautiful women for centuries. So don't go talking to any ole handsome man that steps over a threshold." The tour guide adds to the end of her ridiculous story about some Demon King that drags women to hell before she leads the group onto the next painting.

Still there was something captivating about the art work, how the man has his back to the viewer and how women bow to him, foreheads pressed into the tatami mats with their own bleeding hearts held high over their heads. Blood drips from their hands, splattering on the mats like rain or tear drops. The man, who is assumed to be the Oni, is looking over his shoulder, hand reaching out for the nearest offering. Both figures are forever suspended in brush strokes and desire for more. The closer you inspect the other worldly looking figure the more your gut tightens. His elaborate kimono hangs loosely from his body but you can still see the broadness of his shoulders, the thick bands of muscle on his forearms, the apparition of elongated nails when you look closer and finally the faint strokes atop of his two toned hair that are in the shape of sharp horns.

A God among men or maybe you should say a Devil among friends. A sigh escapes you as you admire the work before the tour guide announces the title, artist and time period of the next piece. “Wrath of the Mountain God.” A large man, with long hair so deep in hue you first mistake it for black, stands in a Kimono. His chest on display as he stands giving the view his profile, his eyes glow red in the light of the full moon, in his arms seems to be a maiden, a flower crown falling from her hair. It looks as if his strong form had just taken a step, beneath his foot begins a nasty fissure that gapes the Earth for miles and miles. The painting feels charged and emotions practically drip from the ink painting and yet still your eyes flicker to the painting to it’s right. At this angle you can see a faint shimmer in his smoky quartz colored eye. It sends a shiver down your spine as you feel a faint breath on the nape of your neck. Quickly you turn your head, craning your neck to look over your shoulder but no one stands behind you. Just another painting, “Golden God of Destruction.” Red gaze glowering as his hair drips gold, while he walks over the hellish landscape of cooling and erupting lava. You swallow thickly before following the tour guide onto the next section.

The tour lasts another half an hour but your mind lingers on the shimmering eyes of the dangerous entity. The more you think of him the bigger the sinking feeling in your gut becomes, not to mention the more you feel as if something is stalking your every move. Another quick glance over your shoulder as you exit the museum while you ponder over why this particular Oni was handsome when all of the other artworks featuring a yokai or oni were depicted as ugly, grotesque even.

Maybe it was because he was the King? You couldn’t be sure, all you knew is that you could understand why the women would rip out their hearts and offer them up to him. He was hot as hell, no pun intended.

Suddenly the fall air smells of frost and the threat of snow, you wrinkle your nose before you jump out of your skin. .

"So you liked the "Oni King, stealer of heart’s'' piece best?" A smooth voice calls from behind you, you press your hand over your rapidly beating heart as you try to catch your breath. Startled, you turn around to see a handsome man opening the gate, stepping over the grass line onto the sidewalk. Instantly you feel heat rush you as a cool autumn breeze swirls around fallen leaves around your boots.

"How did you…"

"I come here often and no one has ever stopped and looked at that piece as long as you have." He seems stoic and you can just barely see the corner of his mouth lift up. You take a moment to really drink him in, his tall stature, his hair a shocking white with contrasting red and a scar that sits beautifully over one of his gem stone eyes. One a smoky quartz and the other a bright turquoise.

You swallow thickly as you stare at the other worldly man, finding little to no words as your heart beats into your ribcage. You grip at the fabric of your jacket over your heart, it pounds against your rib cage like a fluttering wild bird.

"Where are my manners? I am Todoroki Shoto. But you can call me Shoto." Again he offers his barely there smile, "And you are?"

It's laughable how you stumble over your own name, you have never had issues talking to attractive people before, what the hell was your problem now.

“It sounds lovely.” He says your name, it rolls off of his tongue like music makes you swallow thickly, your knees threatening to buckle and you can’t understand why you’re acting like a love struck teenager again. There is a contrasting air about him, just like his hair. Passion and reservation, raging power and quiet tranquility, and the feel of it is making you dizzy. Tipsy almost, drunk if you linger here too long. Just as you’re about to express how you’ll be late for dinner he smiles at you.

Fully this time.

And you think your heart was going to claw out of its calcium coffin but it stalls when you notice that it doesn’t fully reach his eyes.

“Well since you have a good appreciation of art, would you care to join me in the garden, the Chrysanthemum are in full bloom this time of year.” You swallow as you look at him, a twinge of fear lingering in your blood that is soon lost as he steps over the threshold of the garden, waiting patiently.

“Uh, yea I think I can spare some time.” You smile nervously, he offers out his hand.

“Be careful, the step down can be quite steep.” A genuine small form on your lips now as you remember the first time you set foot into this garden and almost twisted your ankle. You step over the threshold, blinking against the late afternoon sun as you do.

Except when you open your eyes once more, you are no longer in the garden. There are no shrubs and bushes, no cinderblock wall of the old museum, something more sinister stands in its place. The sky is an inky black, the full moon hangs overhead shining down onto a small village that thickens the closer it gets towards a large feudal era looking castle. Fading sunlight filter behind you as you whip your head behind you. A giant Torri stands where the aging fence and garden gate stood before, a hazy image of an autumn afternoon in the shape of the gate rapidly begins to shrink. Panicked you lunge arm outstretched as if catching a full elevator as you’re running behind for a very important meeting.

If only your paralyzing panic was over something so trivial.

A strong set of arms wrap around your waist, pulling you towards a chiseled chest as hot breath whispers cooly in your ear.

“I wouldn’t do that if you want to keep all of your limbs, love.”

Shaking you glance over your shoulder before you watch the portal to home close up.

Just like that the landscape that could be seen through the gate was endless night and rolling hills dotted with homes here and there. When you turn to face your captor his eyes narrow as he studies you. His gem stone eyes glittering in the rich moonlight, following your hands up to your chest. He stills as he listens and while he looks you notice the horns growing from his head. Thin and shaped into a deadly point. He tilts his head as if you are bewitching before he leans closer, capturing your hair between his fingers. Now that you were in the moonlight, in the realm he ruled, you looked...familiar and the feeling made his chest tighten.

“How does your heart feel?” He asks, eyes anywhere but yours. You try to jerk out of his touch but his warm hand wraps around your bicep keeping you well within arms reach.

“My heart?! What does that have to do with me standing in HELL!” You scream and it echoes across the chilled landscape. Some women in kimono pass by, keeping their eyes turned down as they pass but once they are a few steps behind this brute’s back, they send you withering glares.

Your attention comes fully back to the man in front of you, or maybe you should say demon. He presses his hand over your heart with a puzzling look. Your body heats from the contact and embarrassment, you were sure he could feel how hard your heart was pounding. All the while his brows knit upwards.

“Seems you aren’t affected…”He murmurs to himself, tonguing his cheek. Suddenly he tears your sweater, pressing his hand against your chest and part of your breast.

“Hey!” You protest until a burning sensation blooms on your skin, when he pulls away you see kanji puckering up, that reads “Shoto”

“That should keep the lower demons away...for now.” He grabs onto your wrist tightly, too tightly before your world bends and blurs. Folding in on itself as if Space and Time were suddenly a beautiful origami paper creased until the maker was satisfied.

The world is bright when you open your eyes next, cradled in an abundance of candle light as your stomach sours causing you to lurch.

“Ugh, not on the tatami!” A woman’s voice scolds, but her state doesn’t help the nausea that hits you in waves. She wears a beautiful kimono, embroidered with gold and silver thread on violet cloth, the chest stained a deep cherry and a hole is where her heart should be. Her hands stained blood red and you back up, panting as you try to keep a level head.

“Get her cleaned up.” Shoto snaps, “I will want her in my room promptly.”

The women in the room shake slightly, keeping their heads down, distantly you can hear the sound of a thousand thundering hearts, deafening in a sense. The stately woman gently guides you towards the bath in the large mansion, shock sets in as your gaze glazes over. Every hall has a woman, anywhere from the feudal era to today, all dressed in kimonos, most were dressed in the ones they obviously died in or dressed in old clothes with their tattoos and fresh wounds peeking out from beneath the fabric.

Every single person sends you a death glare.

You’re stripped of your clothes and dignity in the company of about twenty women, hands shove you into the steaming water, cupping the cloudy water to wash your skin.

No matter how often the woman dip their hands into the water, the blood never leaves their fingertips, forever stained in their sin.

“We gave them away, you know. Ripped them from our chests….” She looks up at you with a timid look.

“Kiyoko, hush.” An elder hisses as she straightens the thin piece of cloth you were going to wear once you were all pieced together.

“No, she deserves to know..” Kiyoko hisses back, “The story is similar for a lot of us, he appears in a doorway, he seems kind enough, and then we look into his eyes. Gazing too deeply before our hearts seize in our chests, flopping around as if behind your flesh was killing it and it should sit in the palm of his hand. The only logical thing was for us to reach deep inside of ourself and give him what he deserved.” A quite falls over the room before a heavy solem air settles on your shoulders.

“He stopped for a while….after he met you.” Your eyes flash to hers and the elder’s hand wraps into Kiyoko’s hair, pulling her away from you.

“Enough.” She snarls as tears run down her cheeks, down all the women’s cheeks and you swallow thickly.

After an hour of primping you find yourself in front of two sliding tatami doors that have Oni and other yokai decorating their sheets.

“Send her in.” A deep voice sounds from the other side.

“Yes master.” The women answer, opening the doors before one shoves you in.

Doors to the eqwaa are open as he lounges on the polished wood, staring at the moon. He turns his head to look over his shoulder and it eerily reminds you of the painting in the museum.

In an instant he is in front of you, backing you into the plush bed that sat in the middle of his room, you fall onto the raised futon looking up at him.

The lowlight plays tricks on your eyes, the square paper lantern and the moon painting him in strokes of kind, of hurt, not some beastly thing he obviously was. Even his horns seemed soft, but nothing was softer than his lips as he pressed them to yours. Embarrassingly ecstasy blossoms under your eyelids as liquid heat floods your core. His tongue probes yours as he leans over top of you, playing with you nipples through the thin cloth as you moan into his mouth. Your body arches into his his as your heart flutters, trying to pull you away from his addicting touch.

Maybe you could have gotten away, maybe….

If only his hand hadn’t slipped between your thighs where he teased your sex utnil you pruned his figners, singing like the song bird he knew you were. His hard cock presses against your thigh twitching with delight. He kisses down your throat before he shreds the thin white kimono away from your body. He groans audibly before he leans down, one finger pulling at your pebbled nipple while the other pulls it between his teeth.

“Shoto…”You cry and he moans into your supple skin. Taking off his own thin kimono to align himself up to your fluttering hole. Eyes glued to your heart, fingers tracing the kanji as he eases himself in inch by inch. Stretching you and filling you pleasantly. He sits for a moment, taking in your body and how you burn under his touch. Free hand roaming your body as the other prods your fresh burn. Tracing the strokes over and over as if he wrote it himself.

Well technically he did.

“Please.” Your mouth betrays, hips pressing up into his to get any sort of friction, his free hand comes down, slamming your hips into the bed.

“Say it again.” He huffs, “Say my name again.”

“Shoto.” It's a hushed, reluctant breath but your skin was icy hot, lifeforce feeling as if it were evaporating away from the heated tension that sat between you two. He watches your body wither, feels your cunt clamping down onto him desperately and it’s all he can do not to thrust into you widely.

“Again.” He barks, pulling at your nipple harshly.

“Shoto.” You moan, the sound is enough to make him start his harsh pace. Pelvis slamming into yours as his tuft of pubic hair glides across your clit. Your vision blurs with tears, it feels so good. Better than anything you’ve ever had or could ever remember as his claws ghost over your soft skin.

“You thought you could escape me.” He grunts, ramming himself into you harder, you moan in response, “I marked more than your flesh two hundred years ago, I marked your soul.”

“You couldn’t help yourself, coming back to the very piece of art you created.” He continues with a laugh, claws raking down your skin, slicing at your skin superficially. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and you cannot fathom what he’s said. All that there is the feel of his hands, the pleasure that threatens to snap in your stomach.

He watches the way your cunt coats his cock in a silvery sheen that has his lips parting. Taking wanton ruts, the motion of it rattling the art on the wall. Pieces fall around you and any of the scrolls that try to block his view of you get shredded mid air. His thrusts turn sloppy as he comes down to bite at your neck.

“Shoto!” You cry out, vision going black as your body convulses around him, eyes rolling in to the back of your head as you forget your name and only cry out his.

“That’s right, tell me who you belong to. Who owns you love.” He pants, holding his own release for a moment longer just to hear your sweet voice scream his name over and over. Finally your milking cunt sends him over the edge. He grunts, staring into your eyes as he paints your wall a creamy white.

“Mine.” He growls, biting at your breast, at the skin over your heart. You feel his spilling cock harden again as your body melts into the sheets.

Most of the night is spent in mind numbing ecstasy and in those few short hours you forget you were ever brought here unwillingly.

You sit on a throne, overlooking the vast landscape of Yomi, Oni running the underworld as heartless women wander the streets. Their mortal heartbeats keeping time as they ceaselessly beat just beneath your feet. Mind’s eye miles away as you see a ghost of a hand before you. Memory playing out as you take careful brush strokes against your canvas, hoping this would serve as a warning for other women as you dab the brush in the deep colored liquid that stains the tatami floor of your home.

Ever the artist you wanted to add final touches even as you drew your final breaths, having thought it better to take your own life than to sit at the right hand of a demon, your chest was already mutilated with his name.

Irony weighs heavy in your stomach as you realize how futile it was to even make that masterpiece. It did not serve as a warning.

No if anything, it served as a beacon, drawing you like a moth to flame until you circled to close.

Burning up in the flames of the very thing you admired.

[whereisten]

No Overnight Stays (m)

Summary: you’re an escort assigned to a different man for each day of the week. The rules are simple and strict, the money is grand, and simply put, you enjoy your job. But what happens when you start to develop feelings for one—or maybe two—of your clients?

Pairing: Female reader x Mark (x Jaehyun)

Genre: sugar baby!reader, smuttttt, a little fluff and a dash of angst :/ sorry, love triangle

Warnings: alcohol use, cursing, descriptive smut (breast fondling, fingering, oral sex (m and f receiving), cockwarming, slight somnophilia, facial, threesome, cream pie, impregnation kink, dirty talk, sir kink, hair pulling and spanking, double penetration, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, unprotected sex (be safe tho!), rough sex) I hope that’s it lmaooo

Word Count: 5.5K

————-

A man for every day of the week. That was your agreement with your escort agency. They’d set up your schedule so that you’d “belong” to one man for a specific day of the week. 

Some days you’d have sex with them, some days you were just their company or a place for them to go when they got tired of their spouses.

But either way, you were paid very handsomely for your services. All you had to do was have your phone on and make sure you were available to provide the services asked of you within the hour. They all had keys to your apartment, so they could let themselves in and wait if you weren’t there.

It was easy and luckily for you, the men you dealt with were all young business men that respected you. Some were rough and demanding, some were soft and shy, but they all made sure you were comfortable with their requests and granted you a safe word. Furthermore, the agency provided you with emergency buttons for you to place in every room, just in case one of your clients got out of hand.

Tonight, you had just finished up with Yuta, an incredibly handsome man that was away from his wife back home in Japan for a 6 month job venture. A pal of his suggested the agency to him so that his needs would be satisfied while he was away from home and based on his preferences and desires, you were his top choice.

He was kind and careful, whispering sweet words into your ear as he fingered you and got you ready. He treated you like you were his wife, and you often felt your face become warm. But when he was inside you, he pushed deep and hard, making sure his hips met with your ass as he bent you over the table.

“Ahh fuck..” he curses while releasing himself into you and tugging on your hair harshly.

He pants and pulls himself out, watching as his cum mixed with yours leaks down your shaking legs.

“Did you eat?” He asks, zipping his pants as he watches you pull your panties back up.

“No not yet, but I have some leftover spaghetti that is calling my name.”

You move your hair out of your face.

“I can grab something for you before I leave..what would you like?” Yuta shimmies his jacket onto his toned body.

He was always sweet like this, unlike some men that just left.

“Ohh—Hmm...there’s a place—“ you started but his phone interrupted you.

“Oh..I’m sorry..it’s her..” He looks up at you slowly and you can see the regret fall on his face. He really loved his wife, he couldn’t help but feel guilty sometimes.

“I-I have to go.”

He turns to leave and you walk behind him to lock the door.

“Hey hun! I just left work!” His voice echoes in the hallway.

You sigh and walk to your bathroom with a slight limp. Yuta always stretched you out and left you aching slightly, but you knew it was something a little warm water would fix.

While you stood under the hot water like a sinner bathing in hell, you thought about your life. Were you really happy? Sure, the easy money you made and the “free” upscale apartment you lived in were amazing. How could you ask for more?

Well that’s just the thing, your heart didn’t care about these material things sometimes, it wanted a person. Someone that would love you, really love you. However, with a lifestyle like this, how could you expect to find a partner that would be okay with it? How could you devote time to them?

You shook your head and stepped out of the grand shower.

You poured yourself some wine and sat by yourself on the couch. It was a typical night for you. When all the fun was over, you were alone.

———

[The Next Day]

You went grocery shopping when Mark dinged you on the agency’s app. He’d be at your apartment soon so you needed to wrap things up and get back.

Mark was possibly your favorite client. The young single man was very gentle and always asked what you wanted to do. Of course, he knew that he wanted to have sex and that’s what he paid for, but he didn’t feel comfortable with handling your arranged situation that way.

Some days you’d just watch a few movies or go for coffee together. Some days he’d show you new restaurants or museums while you hung onto his arm like an actual girlfriend. He wasn’t afraid to bring you with him anywhere because the truth was that he wanted you to be his...and not just in the sexual or physical way. He wanted to date you.

Having been so consumed with work all the time, he found that you were one of the few things that made him relax and be happy, he could experience life with you and he was incredibly thankful for that.

“Hey Mark!” You struggle to get into your apartment with both arms filled with bags.

“Oh, let me get that for you.” He rushes over from the dining table and to the door to help you in.

After settling all of the bags onto the table, he chuckles. “So I take it you don’t like making two trips?”

You giggle and shake your head. “No..absolutely not. I don’t wanna waste precious time that I could be spending with you.” You teased him and stepped closer.

You held out your arm and flexed it, embarrassingly enough, no muscles showed through. “Plus, can’t you see how strong I am?”

Mark laughs out and leans forward to kiss you.

He holds your face in his hands like you were made of glass, gently caressing your cheeks as your tongue dances with his.

Your arms wrap around his waist so you feel his warm chest on yours. Your eyes shut immediately and you smelled his fresh cologne, like cotton.

He pulls away, kissing your forehead as you regain your steady breathing.

“What do you want to do today?”

Your heart races at his question. You wanted to cuddle, to just be with someone and feel loved. But that would be pushing the terms and conditions.

You search your apartment to avoid his gaze, but he knew you were deep in thought, his kiss had sent your mind into a wild frenzy. What did it mean when an escort was affected by such measly things? 

“Come on..don’t think too hard now, tell me what’s the first thing that came into your mind?” Mark leans forward to whisper low into your ear. His voice, deep and husky, makes you even more confused.

You finally look up at him and sigh. “Ahh Mark, you make me feel..” You shake your head.

Were you about to be honest with him and tell him about your growing crush?

His eyes grow and a smile creeps across his face.

“Like sleeping..” You look down again, never seeing his face fall.

“Oh, dude..am I that boring?”

You chuckle and look back up at him to see the genuine hurt in his eyes.

You shake your head and press your hand onto his chest. “No-No, you’re not..it’s just..”

“Y/n...why do you keep looking at me like that?” Mark knew there was something else you wanted, he could see the doubt in your eyes, the internal struggle you faced was coming to the surface. He also knew you drank the night before based on the empty bottle of wine in the living room.

“I-I don’t know,” You chuckle and step away from him. “Maybe I’m still a little hungover. I’m sorry.”

You start to take your things out of your bags. “Help me out, will you?” You pout.

Mark chuckles and takes the bread out of the bag. “I can’t believe I’m paying for this.”

You shrug your shoulders. “You’re the one that asked me what I want to do.”

He sighs. “Okay, touché. But after this, we’ll cuddle and sleep since you’re tired and/or hungover.”

Yeah, it was 6 in the evening, but Mark was just happy to be with you.

“Sounds good.”

After you put everything away, you took Mark to your room and sat him down on the bed.

You took his hoodie off over his head, ruffling his hair in the process. You ran your fingers through it, watching as his wide eyes gazed up at you like you were an angel.

He places both hands on either side of your waist, watching as you unbutton your cardigan in front of him slowly. Mark grows hotter and hotter with each button coming undone, a slight sliver of your beautiful, soft skin growing into your naked chest drives him crazy.

“God, you’re beautiful.”

He licks his lips, tightening his grip on your waist as he brings you down onto his lap. He wastes no time, latching into your nipple and sucking it. His tongue flicks across the nub while your hands run through his scalp, causing a low groan to escape his body.

He aches for you, his member strains against his sweatpants. You feel it press onto your jeans as you also get hot. With the way Mark’s spit coats your breasts, you’re sure you’d be showing through your jeans how aroused you are soon enough.

Your room becomes steamy suddenly, the two of you filling it with moans and whimpers as he massages your breasts.

“B-baby..I want you..” You whine and grind down onto him. 

Mark loves when you call him that while begging for more.

He places you down onto the bed, helping you take your jeans off as your mouth falls open.

He drags your panties down your legs slowly, teasingly.

“Baby..please..”

“I thought you wanted to sleep?” He raises an eyebrow as he pries your legs open and moves his face to the space created.

He focuses on your heat, licking his lips when he sees how wet you are already.

“Yeah..but..” your sentence is cut short when he licks a long stripe along your entrance.

“Mark!” You yelp as his tongue surprises you.

He kisses the inner skin of your thigh while still gripping the crooks of your knees. “Yes, sweetheart. Do you want me to stop? Does the little baby want to sleep?”

He asks with a mocking tone, but not without brushing two digits over your clit. You gasp and flinch under him.

“You’re so cruel..” 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll just fuck you to sleep if that’s what you want.”

He says before pushing his fingers in harder, finding that fleshy spot instantly as your legs widen more. He kisses your bud while looking up at you through dark eyes.

“Am I the best one?” He asks innocently, fingers still pumping in and out of your soaking entrance.

“Y-yes..” you immediately answer without thinking, your mind solely focused on the building tension in your stomach.

He moves his head up and down as he licks your clit. He just needs to apply a bit more pressure and you’ll be in the clouds.

You intertwine your fingers with locks of his luscious brown hair and arch your back.

“More baby, please.”

“Oh look at you begging..” he breathes against your aching pussy.

He fingers pump harder and caress that one spot that he knows will have you reeling in just a few minutes.

“You know..I think you should just be mine..will you be mine?”

He says in between kisses on your clit.

And you’re so close, all you can do is nod and whimper.

You lick your lips while looking at the gorgeous man in between your legs. He locks eyes with you as his tongue works wonders on your core when combined with his fingers.

You clench around him from the sight. He chuckles and cracks a smile at how easily you fall apart. But he doesn’t let you experience the so desperately needed orgasm you need. He withdraws his fingers, a pop echoes into the room. 

“Mark?!” You cry out at the sudden emptiness.

Mark mimics your pout and hovers over you.

“Why don’t you answer my question first?”

You caress his face and lick your lips. “Can we talk about this later?”

He shakes his head. “It’s a simple question, y/n. I know you feel it too.”

He was right, you did feel a connection with him, but you couldn’t let him know that. You could lose your job.

“Mark..” you whisper low as you bring his face closer to yours. You lock eyes with him, your gaze shifting from an innocent one to one that is filled with lust and fire.

“The only thing I want to feel right now is your cock..I just want to feel it so deep in my silky, wet pussy.”

He swallows hard as you push your body up slightly to rub your entrance against his crotch.

“Come on, baby..fill me up...I won’t let a single drop escape”

Mark can’t take your lustful words any longer. He pushes his prior thoughts to the side and focuses on easing his painfully hard cock.

He immediately pushes his waistband down and looks into your eyes as he pushes into you. You moan as you feel completely satisfied by his long and girthy cock filling you up and touching all parts of your velvety walls instantly.

He watches your head fall into the pillow behind you and kisses your neck.

“God..I hate the way you make me so fucking horny that I forget what I was even asking..”

It was a lie, Mark knew exactly what he was asking, but decided to push it away since you wouldn’t give in to him.

He rarely cursed when he was with you, a part of you felt that you had awoken something deep within him so you decided to push him along further. He thrusts into you slowly and gently like he usually did. Mark was your typical vanilla sex partner and it made for a great balance to the opposite partners you had. But you wanted to see just how riled up he could get.

“Oh, Mark, just yesterday another man fucked me until I couldn’t walk..how can I be yours if you can’t compete with men like that?”

You hold his face in your hand and look into his eyes.

He chuckles and pushes into you hard and sudden.

“If that’s what you want, Princess, that’s all you have to say..you know I can do whatever you ask.”

“Be rough with me, make me yours..baby.”

He presses your knees far apart and lifts himself up from your chest.

He slides in and out of you hard, watching as your breasts move up and down from his thrusts.

“You’re the perfect fit for me."

He tilts his head to the side and goes deeper.

His cock curves into you at the perfect angle, making you clench and arch your back more.

You’re sprawled out under him, your knees to your chest as you bite your bottom lip and feel that tension build again.

He runs a hand down your warm chest and stomach, his fingers draw circles onto your skin, causing small fires to dance across it. The pads of his fingertips then lift the skin above your pussy, exposing your clit to him.

He taps it gently and hums to himself. “So pretty..”

He thrusts into you hard as you squeal.

His other hand finds your throat and grips it.

“Gonna fuck you to sleep just like you asked..but then..I won’t leave..I’ll stay inside your pretty pussy since it’s mine..and I’ll fuck it again in the morning...since it’s mine.”

Mark wasn’t asking anymore. He was going to make you his. And as much as you wanted that to happen, you were nervous as you had a job to fulfill. If he stayed over and into the next morning, he’d be cutting into your other client’s day. You could be caught with him and receive a complaint for breaking the “no overnight stays” rule.

“I’m so close..” You run your hands down his abs and watch as he pounds into you from above. He pants heavily, his palm feels sweaty around your throat.

“Can’t wait to cum deep inside you..nothing will leak out..Isn’t that right, baby?” His fingertips move faster into your clit. Mark was always great at finding your sweet spots and it was because he truly cared about your pleasure.

You nod and clench around him again, feeling the head of his cock twitch.

His movement stutters from the action, he falls forward as his grip on your neck tightens.

He cums into your body, filling you to the brim with everything he has. 

You climax as well, scratching into his back as you arch into him more. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you curse.

That was the first of many climaxes for that night. You’d take breaks in between, but soon Mark was eating you out or fingering you until your nails dug into his back and you cried out his name loud enough for the neighbors to hear. 

He wasn’t letting up on his promise to make you his, as each orgasm was intense and left you feeling dizzy. He was unlike any partner you had, making sure to care for your needs more than he did for his. He never even asked that you kiss him anywhere else but his mouth. 

Mark releases your throat and lays on top of your sweaty body as you both climax one last time.

“You really aren’t leaving, are you?”

“I meant what I said. You’re mine.”

A brief moment of silence rests between the two of you as you massage his scalp.

“I mean, I can leave if you want me to..”

He looks up at you with round, doe eyes and your heart breaks.

“No—no..stay..” Sleep takes you over suddenly.

He watches your cute face and smiles. “Mind if I wake you up in the best way possible?” 

You chuckle with your eyes closed.

“And how will you do that?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see..”

He lays back down and falls asleep on your chest.

———

[The Next Morning]

It’s the afternoon of the next day when Mark wakes up before you do and finds his cock engulfed in your pussy still.

He swallows hard, immediately feeling himself grow when he sees your eyes closed as you pout your lips and breathe heavily.

“Y/n..” He whispers, but your eyes don’t open yet.

“Y/n..” He says once more, this time he picks himself up and cages you in between his arms as he holds himself up above your head.

He kisses your forehead. “Wake up, Princess.”

He then buries his head into the crook of your neck and fondles your breast. 

He couldn’t hold back much longer, but he wanted you to be awake first. He lays sloppy kisses onto your shoulder before biting it.

“Mmm..Mark..” You say drowsily.

And with the sound of your soft voice and the feeling of your delicate fingers on his waist, Mark begins to thrust into you.

Your eyes are still closed as he fucks you into consciousness, the post-dream haze combined with his kisses and long thrusts makes you feel light headed.

“How does it feel, baby?”

He moves in and out of you while panting.

You mumble something while enjoying the warmth of his pulsing body on yours. He presses his thumb on your clit, rubbing circles. 

“Mm..faster, baby.” you mumble as your heat grows, your eyes closed while you enjoy your realistic dream.

He then intertwines his fingers with yours, and moves into you faster. Within just a few minutes he cums hard as you shake around him.

And it’s not until he pulls out of you and flips onto his back that he realizes there’s another man in the room.

At the edge of the bed stands a tall handsome man with black hair. He stares sternly onto your body with his hands in the pockets of his suit jacket.

“Oh shit!” Mark is frightened and quickly drapes the blanket over you.

“Who the hell are you?” He asks.

You finally pry your eyes open and scratch your head.

“It’s me...y/n.”

“N-no no I mean..who is that and why is he just staring? Dude.. what the hell?!”

“What?” You rub your eyes and look up. And as your eyes focus you see that sure enough it was your Tuesday client, Jaehyun, staring intensely at you.

“Oh fuck..” You struggle to sit up straight in the bed. “Jaehyun..I’m so sorry, I overslept and-and..”

“Shhh..it’s okay, y/n..” His voice is sweet, but his face says the opposite.

“I see someone has gotten quite greedy with you..”

You turn to Mark, and it all comes back to you. He said he would stay over and you knew the risk you were taking, but you allowed him to anyway.

“Do you want me to push the emergency button?” Jaehyun asks smoothly.

“N-no! That won’t be necessary, I let him stay over actually..”

Your face becomes warm, it feels like you were caught by a parent with your boyfriend.

“I didn’t hear my phone go off with the alert saying you’d be coming over, I’m so sorry but he can leave and I’ll get cleaned up and we can start, just give me a few minutes—“

You start to get off the bed, but Jaehyun raises his hand.

“It’s okay, y/n..I know you see other men, that’s your job, isn’t it?” Jaehyun smirks.

He was one of those clients whose calm demeanor was difficult to read. He was intimidating and made you feel like you were up for terrible punishment at any moment. You never seemed to answer his questions to his satisfaction. In part to his recent divorce, he was rough, unforgiving, a stark contrast to Mark who just sat there awkwardly on the bed.

You nod slowly.

His gaze turns to Mark, his hands still in his pockets. “Was my slut good for you?”

“My?” Hold on..she doesn’t belong to you and no, she’s not a slut..”

Without moving his eyes, Jaehyun calls out to you. “Y/n...remove the blanket and open your legs for me..”

You immediately do as he says, but Mark stops you by holding your wrist. “Hey, you don’t have to do that.”

“It’s okay, Mark. This is what I do, please don’t forget that.” You give him a small smile as you lift the blanket.

You bend your knees while widening your legs.

You can feel the cool air hit your moist entrance.

“Now look at her, Mark...look at how much cum is in her beautiful pussy..only a slut can look like that..”

“Oh fuck off..”

“No, YOU fuck off, you’re cutting into my time..or don’t..”

Jaehyun loosens his tie and takes his jacket off.

“As a matter of fact, let’s see how much prettier she looks when she’s filled up with both of us, what do you say Mark?”

Mark begins to panic and turns to you. 

“What..“

“Stay...I want to make you feel good too..” you say, knowing that Jaehyun’s proposal wasn’t really a question. He was going to find some way to make Mark stay, it was his way of punishing both him and you.

“Good girl..” Jaehyun zips his pants down, revealing his already hard member. He grew when he watched Mark fuck you out of your sleep. He wanted to do that badly, but understood long ago the rules for this agreement. One of them being “no overnight stays.” But Mark clearly didn’t respect this. Maybe he thought you were his, but surely he was wrong.

Jaehyun wanted you just as badly as he did, and he wouldn’t stop until you were his.

“On your stomach, sweetheart, show him what your mouth can do..”

“Yes, sir.” You’re still weak from the night before but do as you’re told.

“Y/n..you don’t have to..” Mark caresses your face with his thumb.

“I know..but I want to..”

“She wants to please us..isn’t that right, slut?” Jaehyun brings an arm under your stomach to bring your ass up towards him.

“Y-yes, sir.” You struggle to get out once you feel his cock rub against your thigh.

You start by wrapping your hand around Mark’s semi-flaccid length, you pump it up and down while twisting. He groans and sits up straight.

Jaehyun enters you from behind, gripping your hip tightly as he pushes into you hard.

You moan loudly as his long cock stretches you out without warning.

“Ahh..fuck.” You gasp.

He slaps your ass hard, you stumble slightly on your knees but Mark helps you stay up.

“Don't be like that, sweetheart, I see how wet you are. Now, open your fucking mouth.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” You whimper then lick Mark’s tip.

“You’re just a slut with cum leaking out of you all the time, you’re always ready, aren’t you?”

You kiss Mark’s tip then answer Jaehyun. “Yes, sir.”

He hums and slaps your ass again.

He rubs his hand over the area to feel it become warm.

He then pulls back and watches his veiny cock glisten with cum.

Meanwhile, you take half of Mark’s length into your mouth and begin to suck, rubbing the tip on the inside of your cheek as you listen to him groan.

Jaehyun buries himself deep inside you again, pushing past your vibrating entrance and deep into your walls where he feels his cock be greeted with that ticklish spot.

You move your head lower and allow spit to coat Mark’s entire length.

“God..that feels good.” He moans as his head falls back.

You suck harder and continue to twist your hand around his base.

You hum to push him along with vibrations.

The sounds of Jaehyun’s hips slapping against your ass gets louder as he glides in faster.

“Her pussy gets wetter and wetter, tsk tsk what a slut.” 

He pushes harder, bending over your back so his abs rest against it. He grabs your hair and pushes your head down onto Mark faster.

You gag and tears escape your eyes as Mark’s length hits the back of your throat repeatedly.

You gag over and over, causing the two men to become even hotter than they were before.

“That’s it, sweetheart, cry for me..”

And you did cry as your throat became irritated and your pussy was being destroyed from the back, Jaehyun stretched it out more than he ever did, but you didn’t want to stop. 

You felt like you were being undone, like you wouldn’t be able to talk or walk after, but it didn’t matter, just as long as you pleased these two men.

Jaehyun’s hand finds your clit, slapping against it before rubbing circles onto it.

You moan loudly, sending a delicious vibration onto Mark. He whimpers and pulls out of your mouth, before watching spurts of white leave his tip and decorate your mouth and tongue.

Your mouth stays open as Jaehyun pulls your head back towards him now. Your breasts jump forward and back as Mark pants and watches you be brought to paradise by another man.

“Sir..I’m going to..”

Jaehyun grunts. “You don’t deserve to cum, but I’ll let you because you’re a needy slut.”

And with that, you quiver around Jaehyun, gripping the pillows and shaking uncontrollably.

Mark feels himself becomes aroused yet again from the sight.

Jaehyun pulls out quickly and sits against the headboard. He picks your body up and puts you over his lap, but doesn’t push his cock into you yet.

“Mark..I think you should return the favor.” Jaehyun says as he grabs the crook of your knees with each hand opens you up.

Mark gladly agrees and puts his head in between your legs once more. He licks up your essence and begins to eat you out, nuzzling his nose against your clit as you cry out. 

Jaehyun takes your chin and turns your fucked out face towards his while you struggle to close your legs. 

“S-sir..please, it’s too much.”

Jaehyun shakes his head. “Nothing is too much for a whore like you..Mark loves your pussy, and so do I.”

He kisses your shoulder as a strand of hair dangles in his forehead.

He flicks your nipples with his fingers, watching as you fall apart in his arms.

Mark’s head moves from side to side as he licks your bud and pushes as hard as he can.

“Look at you..open wide for two men.”

Jaehyun whispers into your ear as you tremble. “We won’t stop until we’ve both put a baby in you...but you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes..fuck..yes..sir.”

Soon, you’re cumming again and seeing stars.

Mark pulls away and wipes his mouth, watching as your wetness ruins the sheets below you.

“Do you think she can take us both?” Jaehyun still plays with your hard nipples.

Mark chuckles. “I’m not really into sharing..but we should find out.” He caresses your face again as your mouth falls open.

He puts his thumb into it, watching as you suck it hard with your teary eyes wide.

Jaehyun lifts you up slightly so he can enter you again.

You fall onto him easily but whimper as you try to overcome your sensitivity.

Jaehyun forces you open wide with his hands on your knees, your feet dig into the bed as you bounce up and down on him. His touch sends electricity through your veins. 

Mark holds his cock in his own hand, stroking it while watching you fall onto Jaehyun’s length.

Your beautiful entrance is soaked and he just wants to feel it too.

Jaehyun looks into Mark’s hungry eyes and lets out a low growl.

“Go on, Mark. Fuck her like the needy whore she is.”

Jaehyun scoots down on the bed more so he is laying under you. Mark lays down over you and guides his tip along your slit.

“Mark..” you cry out while Jaehyun thrusts into you from below.

“Are you sure?” He licks his lips.

You nod and take his length into your own hand. “Yes..”

You push him into you slowly as Jaehyun pauses his movement. Your head falls back as your pussy is stretched out once more. You’d never done this before, but then again, you’d never been with two men.

“Shit...” you close your eyes tightly as both men fill you up.

Jaehyun sits up, holding you in his arms as he guides you up and down both his and Mark’s cocks now. 

You’re so right and Mark is embarrassed to admit that he is just moments from climaxing already, the friction of two cocks against your tight silky walls driving all of you crazy.

“Mmm..sweetheart, you’re doing so well..”

Jaehyun whispers. His tone is gravelly and he is just moments away also, sweat pricking at his forehead as you glide onto him.

The sound of skin against skin and loud moans and groans fills the room, you wonder if your neighbors will make a complaint. But right now, in this moment of complete ecstasy, you could care less.

Jaehyun’s tip twitches, vibrating against Mark’s and hitting your g-spot. You all come undone within seconds and experience an orgasm that lasts for what feels like an eternity.

All three of you collapse onto the bed, and you and Jaehyun fall asleep soon after. You should’ve cleaned yourself up, but your body aches and feels weak after orgasming so many times.

After 20 minutes of just watching you sleep, Mark gets up from the bed and goes to your bathroom. He comes back with a washcloth and cleans you up gently while watching you snore lightly.

Jaehyun’s back is turned to you so he can’t see Mark taking care of you by cleaning your exhausted body.

Before he leaves, he drapes your blanket over you and kisses your forehead. He also leaves a bouquet of flowers that he bought from someone selling them just outside of your apartment building. He went back to your apartment just to leave them there for you when you woke up. But really, he just wanted one last chance to see your beautiful face as you slept peacefully.

You wake up hours later to find yourself alone once again. You hop out of bed but soon remember what happened based on the aching feeling in your legs.

You’re happy to see that you're clean however, the sticky feeling of cum no longer being all over you. Someone must’ve cleaned you up, you thought to yourself.

With a limp, you walk out to your kitchen and see take-out food on your counter with a note attached, beside it you also see a bouquet of flowers. 

“Thanks for today, see you next week. Love, J.”

Jaehyun left you food, flowers, and cleaned you up before he left. Maybe he did care for you after all. This is what you thought as you smiled to yourself.

[sinswithpleasure]

The Playgirl (ft. LOONA's Yves) [Part 2] [Female Reader]

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

Hello! I'm back with part 2!

Futa!Yves x Fem Reader, just in case ya forgot.

If you prefer, this is also on AO3 and AFF!

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

Yves shows up on time for tutoring, to your surprise.

"Hey baby."

"Don't 'baby' me."

"Sure. Let's start."

"Alright. Open up the textbook. We're starting from the basics. I've printed out some of the prerequisites for this topic, since what you did last time wasn't up to standard due to lack of practice of the basics. Now…"

Yves listens attentively. In fact, things go a bit too smoothly for the both of you. Yves doesn't make any cheeky quip, pull out any pet names, or flirt with anyone that passes by. The womanizing playgirl you knew disappears, and in its place is a focused, dedicated young woman. Sometimes, you even find yourself staring at her work on the problems in front of her. The change is… welcome, to say the least.

Your eyes roam Yves's styled hair, swiped back to expose her forehead, down to her beautiful large eyes, button nose, and full lips.

God, you're gay. Sure, you're literally admiring the beauty of the most insufferable bane of the universe, but you're just so fucking gay and hot people are hot, no matter how irritating they are, so...

When your eyes shift back up, you're met with Yves's smirk.

"See something you like, babe?"

Fuck.

"N-no."

"Liar."

"Fuck off." You rush to change the subject. "How're you doing?"

"I've been done for a while. You would know if you weren't spending the time looking at me."

You refuse to dignify her with a response, checking through the solved problems. With your coaching, Yves manages to get two more questions correct as compared to last time, but she still makes some simple mistakes.

"Okay, here's the issue. In question two…"

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

Yves continues to show up for every tutoring session. Somehow, a week passes by, and it is now Friday.

"Good afternoon, babygirl."

"Don't 'babygirl' me. How many times do I have to say it?"

"Mm, whatever. How're you doing?"

"Why do you care?"

Yves pulls out the chair next to you, leaning back on it, resting her legs on the table. She turns to you, grinning.

"Of course I'd care! You're my tutor, and if you don't feel good, you won't be able to teach me properly. If I don't get taught, I won't learn, then I'll fail, and I don't get to win. You know that I always win."

"I'm not sleeping with you."

"That's what you say, but not what you mean."

"Fuck you."

"That's what you'll be doing in five months' time."

"No I won't. Bring out the Calc textbook. We're going through Chapter 4 today."

"Alright, babygirl."

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

The change in Yves becomes apparent when she somehow is present earlier than you on Monday morning.

"Yves?"

"Oh, hey babe."

You sigh at the pet name, but having heard her call you that for quite some time now, it doesn't grind your gears as much anymore.

"Don't 'babe' me."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Yves returns her attention to the papers she is working on, and the familiar math problems catch your eye.

"Calc?"

"Yeah. I promised I'll be the best student. Here I am."

"We'll see about that."

"You're looking at it right now." Yves rises from her chair, and in a flash, she has her arm around your waist, her face inches from yours. "I'm going to win, babygirl."

"G-Get off me!" Your face reddens instantly at the close proximity of your lips to hers. Memories of the chaste kiss Yves planted take front and center stage, and you can't help but look away from Yves.

"You're so pretty."

Yves has her gaze locked on your lips, then to your eyes. She is so close, too close, even. Heat flashes all over your body—every touch Yves leaves on you seems to burn.

"I mean it. You're gorgeous."

"T-Thank you."

The smug smirk never leaves Yves's face. She releases you from her smoldering gaze and grip, but she leaves you with a rapidly beating heart and a large distraction for the day to come.

When class begins, Yves tries to take the time to listen to the professor. However, she is soon back to her old ways, flicking paper balls at classmates and being on her phone more than she listens.

"Yves."

"Yeah, baby?" She meets your gaze, her tongue darting out to moisten her dry lips. Her hands carry on working on moulding another tiny paper ball.

"You're not listening."

"I am!"

"What was the last thing the prof said?"

"Um…"

You roll your eyes.

"Best student, my ass."

"I made that promise to you, not to him."

"You won't learn if you don't listen to him either. How're you going to be the best if you can't even do that?"

"Oh, so that's how it is?"

"That's right." You think hard about the words you want to say next, but maybe… maybe it is worth the risk. After all, Yves is still the bane of your existence, but she could be less of that if she keeps up her effort in trying to learn.

"You don't get to fuck me if you're not the best."

You watch as Yves freezes. She stares at you, her jaw hanging, before she steels her gaze to your eyes, staring deep into your soul.

"So this is how you wanna play, babygirl?"

"Yeah." You can feel your bravado slowly disappearing.

"Fine. I'll listen. I'll play by your rules."

Yves leans to your ear, her breath sending shivers down your spine. Her deep whisper makes you shudder.

"You will be mine at the end of the year, baby. I promise you: I'll ace my exams, and you'll love me for it."

Perhaps provoking your seatmate wasn't the best idea. Now you have to deal with the deep flush on your face and neck, as well as the heat between your legs.

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

A month passes.

Every week, the same things go by—tutoring, classes, more tutoring, more classes. However, what changes is how close you and Yves get with each other. By no means were the both of you friends, but she isn't as much of a thorn in your side anymore.

[yves💘 sent a message:]

Baby

I need a bit more help with the math from the last chapter.

Can I see you this weekend?

Saturday, 10am, Seoul U entrance?

[You sent a message:]

Sure.

I'll see you.

[yves💘 sent a message:]

Good.

Dress nicely, baby. It's a date.

[You sent a message:]

Fuck off.

You groan when Yves manages to charm you through text. Outfit ideas are already flowing through your head, and you sink your face into the comfort of your palms. Why do you even care about looking pretty for Yves?⁶

Well… that genuine grin she flashed after a muffled gasp of surprise when you wore a dress once in the past month was gorgeous on her. That was why.

You remember Yves actually having the slightest hint of a blush when looking at you, and she seemed to be a little less flirty that day, opting to take short glances at you when she thought you weren't watching. This newfound attention was… welcome. You couldn't deny feeling shy having Yves check you out. After all, you were just the nerd girl in class, and having this attention from a hot girl you could consider a crush not as much of a pain in your ass felt so good.

-----

Saturday arrives, and here you are, waiting outside Seoul University.

You choose to keep things simple: just a simple button-down dress with daisies printed on the fabric. Your hair is tied up in a cute bun. The pink backpack you carry completes the look, with a nice pair of flats.

The sun isn't too bright, and a cool breeze keeps you comfortable while waiting. You can't help but get nervous, though you know it is irrational to feel so. After all, this is just another study session. However, Yves's text to you earlier in the week keeps flashing across your eyes.

'Dress nicely, baby. It's a date.'

You know this is just a study session. However, a part of you dimly wishes that it isn't, before you hurriedly bash those thoughts with a hammer and then set them on fire.

The revving of a motorbike catches your attention before it zooms down the road. You can see the bike move across the lanes, then slowing to a stop in front of you. The rider, clad in all black leather, complete with jacket and boots, seems to freeze in front of you, before slowly drawing the helmet off their head.

"Hey, babygirl."

Yves grins at you, her eyes sweeping over your body. Her gaze lands on your legs, moving up to your torso, your chest, and then to your eyes and hair.

The next words she mutters are meant to be kept to herself, but you hear her anyway.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous."

Your heart takes off, pounding against your chest. You try to hide the flush on your face by staring at the ground, but you field a gaze to Yves, who looks a bit like a deer caught in headlights. She looks so handsome, so cool, and downright fucking hot at the same time.

Hmm… What would it feel like being pinned under her again?

The intrusive thought you have gets stamped out instantly, but the effect lingers—you can't help but check Yves out, feeling a rush of heat deep within your loins.

Her agreement with you was starting to look more and more appealing. Maybe you do have to teach her well.

"Get on."

"What?"

"Let's go. I gotta park the bike, and the cafe isn't close by. Get on."

Yves hands you a spare black helmet, and you hesitantly take it.

"Don't kill me."

"I won't." She grins. "I like you too much to think about doing that."

Your breath catches in your throat. It's not uncharacteristic of her to say things like that so easily, but maybe… just maybe… you want her to mean it.

You get onto the bike as Yves holds it steady. You don't know where to put your hands, but Yves grabs your arms, pulling them to wrap around her waist.

"Hold on tight, babygirl."

"Okay." You can't believe what's happening right now.

"I'm gonna go."

The engine revs.

-----

Yves trails behind you as both of you make your way to the cafe. Yves is quiet along the way, unlike her usual flirting if she caught you staring at her. When you glance back to her, you see her eyes dart away from you, staring at the floor as she swipes her hair back.

Weird.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"Oh, yeah. Never been better, baby." Her reply is unconvincing, especially with a forced grin, but you don't want to really push her for a reply.

"Er… Okay. Sure."

Both of you make your way into the cafe, stopping by the counter to grab the menu. When you sit down at a table, Yves sits across you, her eyes locked onto you as you peruse your options.

"You're staring a lot today, Yves."

"Oh, um, er…" She looks away, her voice soft. This is very unlike her.

"Are you really okay?"

"Yeah, baby. I'm feelin' great, ready to learn, and get good." She leans back, resting her hands on the armrests of her chair.

Oh.

She has a crop top on.

Oh my fucking God, she has abs.

You short circuit.

Two columns of defined muscle greet your eyes, as if to mock you. It wasn't like she was someone you didn't find hot. Now, you have to find out that she also has abs?!

Your mouth dries instantly, and you grab your bottle, taking a swig. The cool liquid quenches your physical thirst, but your mental thirst…

"Don't look too much, babygirl. You might get hypnotized."

Yves tilts your chin up with a finger, moving to lean close to your face.

"My eyes are up here."

Holy fucking shit, she's so fucking hot.

You wonder how you didn't notice them when she had that fishnet and crop top combo. Maybe her pants covered them, maybe you were blinded in your dislike for her. Whatever, you've seen them now. No reason to stop… respectfully staring, especially when you can.

"Look at me."

You meet Yves's smoldering gaze.

"Keep your eyes up here, babygirl." Her warm breath against your lips makes you yearn to lean in and close the gap. "I don't want them anywhere else when they're so beautiful."

You whimper involuntarily, and Yves chuckles.

"You're so fucking pretty, you know that?"

The shame that burns when you squeak and break your gaze to hide in the pretense of reading the menu is something you don't want to admit that you feel coursing through your veins, but it's there. When you lower the menu, Yves has her chin in her palm, her head tilted to the left, a satisfied grin on her features.

"I mean it, baby. You look really pretty today."

"T-Thank you."

"You're welcome. Let's order, I'm starving."

"Okay."

"Oh." Yves leans towards you, lowering the menu to stare into your eyes once more. "You'll get to see what you want to see when I ace the exams. Be patient, babe."

You groan.

-----

That night, you toss and turn on the bed incessantly. Every time you close your eyes, you can feel hot breath across your lips, smell the scent emanating off Yves, and sense her burning gaze on you. Yves's handsome features are burnt deep into your head, and just the thought of her sends your heart pounding and temperature rising.

You think of her abs under her clothes, the defined muscle jumping out to your eyes. She already looks so good, so delicious, and yet, things only go up from here.

The rush of heat between your legs doesn't help things.

You turn again, ignoring your basest desires. Bedtime it is.

[waka-chan-out]

Just Once

Hanamaki Takahiro x fem!reader

non-canonical timeskip.

word count: 3.5k

content warnings: makki’s pov. honestly this is pretty much just friends to lovers fluff with some healthy smut thrown in at the end. technically unprotected sex but no attention is called to it.

based on this request

Makki was sure you didn’t even realize you were half asleep, so when he shoved your shoulder you nearly jumped across the room.

“What the hell?” you yelped. He laughed and stood.

“Not on my watch! Sit up. Come on. I got you.”

He dragged you into a seated position and grabbed a bright pink energy drink from the fridge. He flopped back down in front of you and held out his hand.

“Drink this.”

You saw what he was holding and snorted.

“Why?”

“So you can stay up with me, stupid. You asked to sleep over. I expect fully conscious best friend bonding time.”

You rolled your eyes but took the can anyway.

“I asked to sleep over, not stay up all night,” you said, popping open the can. You held it up to your lips and took an experimental sip.

“How is it?” he asked. You winced and shook your shoulders.

“It tastes like drugged up cotton candy.” You held it up to your lips, then hesitated. “Am I supposed to feel it as it goes through my veins?”

“You are, actually. It’s great.” He picked up his own drink and nearly spilled it on the carpet before taking a long sip. Using your logic, his was a deliciously metallic green apple flavor.

You moved to set your drink down but Makki caught your hands in his own.

“Oh, no you don’t. Come on. Open.” He sat up to between your knees and tipped the drink back toward your lips. “I can sip. You gotta chug.”

You made a muffled sound in protest but let the liquid fall past your lips anyway, grumpily holding his gaze as you drained a good portion of the can. He set it down beside you and shot you what was supposed to be an innocent smile.

“You’re an idiot,” you said.

“Indeed. Feeling more awake?” he asked. You shrugged.

“I’m sure I will once the heart palpitations set in.”

“I know CPR. You’ll be fine.”

He settled back onto the floor and resumed staring at the ceiling. You had bought him one of those little constellation lights for his last birthday, and since it was freezing outside they were the best possible substitute for stargazing. You laid down next to him, fingers laced on your chest. Quiet music came from your phone in the corner, virtually untouched since you arrived hours earlier. Matsukawa always joked that when you hung out together it was like you entered a void, completely impossible to locate until you were separated, and he was right. With you here, this was the only room that existed. You were floating around in space and would be sucked out into nothing as soon as you tried to leave.

You rolled over and leaned against your hand.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked. Makki didn’t look at you. He didn’t need to.

“Matsukawa,” he said. You scoffed.

“Why? Making a tier list of our friend’s eyebrows?”

“Hair, actually. His curls give him a pretty big advantage.”

“They are nice, I’ll give you that. But not nice enough to make up for his shitty personality.”

It wasn’t nearly as fun ripping into him when he wasn’t there to defend himself, but you both laughed anyway.

Makki considered your words for a moment. In all honesty, Matsukawa would place pretty high on all of those lists. A humor list too. And probably an overall looks list. He was certainly the more popular in high school, and had only come more into his own since graduating.

“You know, I always thought Matsukawa was the better looking of the two of us.” The words slipped out before he could even consider stopping them. He froze and turned to you. To his surprise you were studying his face with the interest he might have expected from a doctor and their patient. When you didn’t respond, he realized he was nervous. Why, he didn’t know, but he really, really needed you to respond.

“I’ve never told anyone that before,” he breathed.

“Issei is handsome,” you said. Well, fuck.

“Good, good. These years of insecurity were warranted. Good to know.”

You smacked his shoulder.

“Shut the fuck up while I speak to you.” He laughed but held his tongue. You continued. “Issei is handsome, but you are too. Just in different ways. Neither is better or worse.”

He stared at you stupidly. “Thanks?”

“Don’t say it like it’s a question! I’m being serious.”

“I can tell. It’s just a funny compliment to get.”

“Well, think about it. The sunrise is beautiful. The sunset is beautiful. Two things can be totally different and equally lovely at the same time.”

He gazed at you, face scrunched and unable to decide between confusion and understanding.

“Do you get it?” you asked

“Yeah, yeah. I think so.” He paused and considered what you said. “So, which am I?” You made a face.

“Isn’t that obvious?”

“It’s your metaphor!”

“You’re sunrise, dummy.” You ruffled his hair. “I thought you’d get that.”

He smiled. He could work with sunrise.

“So, which do you prefer?” he asked. “Sunrise or sunset?” You huffed a laugh and your eyes fell to the carpet, where you had started playing with a loose string.

“I try not to play favorites,” you said. He watched your face carefully. A small smile played on your lips, the same one that always appeared when you were alone with him. “But there’s a reason I don’t drag you outside as the sun is going down.”

He stared at you, and you stared right back. An unexpected but deeply familiar feeling settled in his chest. He didn’t know what to do with it, so he swallowed hard and returned to laying on his back. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me for being honest.”

“I know. But for my own sake, thanks.”

Makki could feel your eyes scanning his face, but he kept his gaze trained on the ceiling.

“You know, you’re good looking too,” he said.

“Yeah? You come up with a fancy metaphor for me?”

He snorted and turned onto his side again. Your lips were curled into the prettiest shadow of a smile and he could feel his mouth going dry.

“I’m not good at talking like that. But you’re just so familiar.” He reached out and absentmindedly traced his fingers over the back of your hand. He tried his best to not look at your face, because he could feel his heating up and the warmth was making it hard to think straight. He stilled his hand and laid it on top of yours as was finally able to piece his thoughts together. “You feel like home.”

When he finally looked at you your lips were parted in surprise. He hadn’t expected that reaction. Was what he said been that outlandish? You had been friends forever. Of course he felt like that around you.

“Thank you, Makki,” you said. His mouth twitched into a smirk.

“You don’t need to thank me for being honest.” The repeated phrase forced a laugh out of you, but he couldn’t quite place the look on your face.

“Can I ask you something?” he said.

“You just did,” you teased. He rolled his eyes and scooted closer to show he was serious.

“Okay, okay,” you said. “Shoot.”

“Why don’t you call me by my given name?”

You scoffed.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s not true! There has to be a reason.”

“It feels too special. I don’t want to use it like that.”

“You use Mattsun’s!”

“Yeah, well.”

He frowned, amused, and leaned in closer. You wrinkled your nose and tried to back away.

“Well, what?” he asked.

“I don’t know how to explain it! It’s just different. Too intimate.” You said the last part quietly, like you didn’t want him to hear it.

“So why can you use his ‘intimate’ name and not mine?”

“Because it feels different with you.”

“Why?”

You were staring at him, an apprehensive look on your face. He paused, and the new information finally clicked. Oh.

You both hesitated.

“Do you want me to say it or do you get it?” you whispered.

“I think I get it?”

You blew out a frustrated sigh and covered your face with your hands.

“Don’t say it like a question!”

“Fine, fine, fine. I genuinely think I get it but I don’t want to be presumptuous.”

“So you get it but you’re not going to do anything to show me that you get it?”

“See? You get it.”

“Makki!”

“What? You know I can’t turn it off.” He grinned. “It’s like an impulse.”

“You’re an impulsive ass?”

“I am. That’s why we fit so well together. You’re an impulsive ass tamer.”

You let out a surprised laugh.

“And what does that make Issei?”

Makki waved his hand dismissively.

“Oh, forget about him. I wanna focus on us.”

“Us?”

“Yeah, us. I’m still on this given name bullshit.”

“God,” you groaned. “Can we move on to another topic?”

“Not until I’m sure that I know what I think I know.”

“Hanamaki Takahiro, I am going to end your bloodline.”

He perked up and pointed at your face.

“Ah! You said it! Now just say it on its own.”

“Hanamaki.”

“Fuck! No. Not that one.”

You stared at him seriously.

“Just try it!” he begged. “Then I’ll stop bugging you.”

“Forever?”

“Hell no, just about this.”

You groaned and rubbed your hands over your face. You took a deep breath and set your jaw.

“Just once?” you asked.

“Just once. Unless I want to hear it again.”

“If you’re going to be weird I’m not going to say it!”

“Fine! Fine. I’m shutting up.” He motioned like he was zipping up his lips and handing you the key. You laughed and pretended to take it, closing your hand into a fist and laying it between you.

“Okay.” You took a deep breath. He pretended not to notice the way it faltered on the way out. You looked him seriously in the eye.

“Takahiro.”

Shit.

He expected it to feel silly, so much hype up for something incredibly stupid. But it wasn’t. It felt a little too good to be silly. It felt really good. It felt right.

He held out his hand. Your brows pulled together until he pointed at your hand, then his face. You let out a ridiculous laugh and held two fingers close to his mouth, pretending to unzip his lips again. He caught your hand before you could fully pull it away, cradling it against his face.

“You know, that’s the prettiest anyone has ever said it.” He didn’t register the words that were forming until they were out and he was cringing, waiting for you to tell him to fuck off. Instead, you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Don’t be embarrassing.”

“What? The more you say it the less strange it feels for both of us.” He scooted against the ground, bringing his body even closer to yours. “Do it again.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes.

“Takahiro.”

Fuck.

You sat in silence. You stared at each other, unwavering and perfectly comfortable, neither of you making any move to turn away. Makki broke the silence with a sharp breath.

“Can I try something?” he asked. You looked apprehensive but he went on. “If I totally misread the situation that’s fine, I won’t be offended. Just, can I?”

You shrugged.

“I don’t care.”

Well, shit. He was suddenly frozen.

You know what? No. You were one of his best friends. If he fucked up, you’d tell him, then you’d laugh about it, and best of all, you’d never ever tell Matsukawa. That was the kind of friend you were. You were perfect. You were his.

He pushed up on his elbow and leaned over you. He could see your eyes widen in surprise, then settle back into something nervous but not apprehensive. He was so close to you. At this distance he could feel every pull of your breath against his face. God, he could do this. If worst came to worst you could laugh about it and return to being best friends. He might die as he did this, but if he was honest, he was more likely going to die if he didn’t.

He reached up and ran a hand through your hair. Then, he cupped the side of your face, leaned in, and ever so gently pressed his lips to yours.

For a moment he panicked because you didn’t move. You were frozen against him, and he had fucked up so horribly he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to laugh it off.

Then you weren’t frozen and there was a hand buried in his hair, and he let out the most relieved sigh of his life.

He swore he could feel you smiling as he finally let himself move, lips shifting against yours like they had always been there. You fit against him so perfectly it almost surprised him, but only almost. You had always been in sync, ready to back him up with a joke or laugh or the end of a snarky comment that he couldn’t quite get out. You were his other half and it only made sense that your lips were made just for each other.

He planted a knee on the ground between your legs and propped himself up above you, shivering when your hands ran down his sides.

Makki knew he was a good kisser, but with the responsive, welcoming way your mouth moved against his, he became painfully aware that he had never experienced a truly great kiss until now. He felt your tongue nudge his lips and he parted them, letting you deepen the kiss. You tasted like the stupid cotton candy energy drink and the sweet, familiar breath of someone that he adored.

Your fingertips danced along his abdomen, then his hipbones, finally coming to rest just slightly dipped under the band of his pajama pants. There was no longer the hesitance of friendship in your hands, and when he cradled the back of your neck, he realized the feeling was affecting him too. You were trembling, and so was he, drunk on the feeling of a familiar but entirely new body. Playful touches couldn’t compare to harsh fingers grasping at whatever skin they could find, eliciting small sighs and dizzying gasps.

He dipped his head down and planted kisses along your jaw. Your hands closed into fists and you tipped your head back, letting his tongue move down to you neck. He might have been leaving hickies. He honestly didn’t know. All he cared about was absorbing as much of you as he could as quickly as possible.

You brought up your knees so he was sandwiched between your legs and he shuddered. He thought the kiss would be enough. Hell, he didn’t even think you’d receive it this enthusiastically. But he could feel that he was turned on, and you were definitely going to be able to tell if he didn’t slow down a little. He brought his lips back to yours and tried to lower the tension, ease up the pace, but then your legs were wrapped tightly around him, forcing him to grind against you.

Oh, fuck.

You grabbed his face on either side and licked into his mouth like you were trying to own him, and jesus he was starting to believe you did. His arms were braced on either side of you, desperately trying to keep him from completely melting, but it wasn’t working at all.

He was distantly aware that he was hard, but he didn’t think about it until one of your hands had left his face to paw at him through his pajamas. He gasped and felt you smile into the kiss, rubbing your palm up his length, nearly able to wrap your hand around him through the thin fabric. He pulled away from your lips and looked at you seriously, or as seriously as he could when his brain was actively trying to vacate his skull.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

You ground your hand harder against him.

“Getting shy on me, Takahiro?”

He let out a shaky breath and shook his head. You stared up at him with a smug smile and he had the urge to kiss it off your face.

“Shut up,” he grumbled. You smiled and pulled him down by the back of his neck.

“Make me.”

He cut off any further comment by connecting your lips, trying to fight off a grin. You managed to maneuver the front of his pajamas down and he gasped as the cool air hit him. He braced himself against the floor with an elbow and you used the moment of surprise to wrap your legs around him and lock his hips against you.

He ground against you once and was met with the sudden, dizzying realization that you weren’t wearing anything under your loose pajama shorts. He filed that information away for later, when he could sit down and ask himself just how many times you had laid beside him like that. One of your hands gripped his hair tighter as he pushed himself against you once more, trying to give you the opportunity to take the lead.

“Jesus,” you said suddenly, reaching down and taking hold of his length. “Just fuck me already.”

That sentence alone could have killed him, but his train of thought was derailed as you lined him up between your legs and held onto his shoulders, begging him to get closer. He readjusted his forearm on the floor above your head and pushed inside of you with one fluid motion.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathed. He tipped his forehead against your face, trying to regain some semblance of self control as he withdrew and thrust forward again. The way you groaned and dug your fingertips into his back made that nearly impossible.

He set a slow, grinding pace, letting himself swim in your quiet moans before silencing them with a kiss. Your hands moved back to his hair, holding him close as your tongue met his. The motion felt so natural that he barely registered that you had only kissed for the first time a few minutes ago. It felt like you’d been his forever.

You broke the kiss but Makki kept his face pressed against yours.

“Takahiro,” you sighed. “A little faster.”

He nearly lost control of his body as he obeyed, quick breaths leaving his lips involuntarily with every movement. Your moans were driving him crazy. He wanted to taste them, drink in every bit of you until you were shaking beneath him. He captured your lips in a kiss again and shifted a hand between your legs, circling your clit as he continued thrusting into you.

The sound that left your throat was muffled against his lips, but he swore he would never forget it. Your breath was quick against his skin and the kiss became messier with every motion. One of your hands flew around his bicep, like you were trying to anchor yourself as he continued pushing into you.

Fuck, Makki was close. The harder you panted, the tighter your grip on him was, the faster he hurtled toward the edge. You were moaning into his mouth, and his fingers were moving faster between your legs, and his arm was cramping just a little bit from holding himself above you, but then you were breaking the kiss and your back was arching and holy shit.

Makki’s hips stuttered and he let out the most embarrassing, full-bodied groan he was capable of. He had to snap his other arm up to avoid collapsing on top of you. He stopped moving and basked in the little shocked breaths that left your body, even after you had stopped shaking. He rolled off of you and closed his eyes.

“Holy shit,” he said. Laughter cut through his words, but he could tell you were having the same problem as your chest heaved. He could see you rearranging your clothes out of the corner of his eye. You paused while readjusting your shirt.

“Makki, you gave me a hickie,” you said. He shoved your arm.

“You don’t get to call me Makki after I just made you come.”

You laughed loudly and flicked his head. He continued staring at the ceiling until he felt you turn over and lay a hand on his chest. He looked down and you were studying him, an amused expression on your face.

“Think Issei will know something’s up?” you asked.

“Of course,” he said. “He notices everything. But deny till you die, right?” You smiled and he pressed a long kiss to your lips, relishing the feeling of your breath dancing over his skin.

This was the only room in existence. You were the only person in the universe, and yours were the only lips he had ever kissed. Nothing mattered besides you and him, right now, exactly where you were supposed to be.

[in-ky]

An Old Scent [1] - Negan x Reader (A/B/O AU)

Summary: During summer break, you decide to come back home to visit your dad, Rick. Over the course of your stay, you realize that your dad's friend is pretty hot.

Warnings: Eventual smut, A/B/O dynamics, cheating, age gap, Negan

A/N: yay first fic! this will have four parts! i hope everyone enjoys. this is an au where the apocalypse never happened. 3.2k words

I squinted as I stepped out into the bright Virginian sun. People swarmed all around me, creating the steady hum of airport ambience that I had grown accustomed to over the years. I had just gotten off a four-hour flight home from college and all I wanted to do was shower and curl up in bed. But I couldn't. Oh, no. First I had to endure a fun thirty-minute car ride with my best friend since second grade. I scanned the curb in front of me for her small black car and caught sight of a tall woman waving at me. I grinned and walked forward, tugging along my baggage behind me.

"Ugh, it's so good to see you, Bee." I sighed as I enveloped my friend into a large hug. She let out a laugh and swayed us gently.

"It's good to see you, too," She hummed, rustling my hair "I forgot how short you were." Bee was an alpha; tall, muscular, and very quick to remind me of our differences. Of course, it was in a 'joking with love' kind of way. I was an omega; small, rounded, and very quick to punch her gently in the abdomen.

"I forgot how much of a jerk you are." I quipped, huffing and wheeling my bag to her trunk.

"Oh, come on, babes, don't be like that," Bee laughed, opening the driver side door and waiting for me to walk back to my side. "Now get in, we've got a lot of catching up to do."

---

"How are your heats going?"

"Jesus, that's what you want to start with?" I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest. Bee shrugged.

"We don't have to if you don't want to," She clarified, turning out onto the street "I'm just saying, I know they've gotten pretty bad as we've gotten older. Did you try out those tips I sent you?"

"Yea, I did," I said quietly, looking at the trees rushing by on the side of the highway "They worked for a while but..."

"But you need an alpha," Bee sighed, finishing the sentence for me.

"That's the plan for this summer," I agreed "Might finally settle down."

"You know, I'm always here if you need me." She said with a wink. I scoffed at her.

"I'm not that desperate," I laughed, shoving her lightly "Not yet, at least."

"Anyone take your interest back in Colorado?"

"Not really," I hummed, tilting my head in consideration. "There was this one guy. We dated for a few months but towards the end he became a total knot-head. He couldn't keep his hands off me. I thought it was cute at first, but after I started to miss a few classes...well, that shit got old pretty quickly." Bee made a disgusted noise.

"Ugh, men," She grunted, wrinkling her nose "I'm glad I never went through that phase. I'm perfectly happy with chicks, thank you very much. Much less of a pain in my ass."

"Oh, they're not so bad," I smirked "I think it's just alphas in general." She glared at me momentarily and I stuck my tongue out at her. We drove in a comfortable silence for a few moments, just enjoying each other's company. That was always something I loved about Bee. We never had to fill every second with chatter, we could just exist together in the same space and be just as content. She started to hum along to the song that buzzed softly from the radio and my eyes tracked a hawk. Soon enough, we reached our exit and Bee turned the car onto a smaller road, starting the countdown to my arrival home.

"Are you excited to see your dad?" Bee asked, killing the silence.

"Yea, I am," I smiled. We hadn't always had the best of relationships, but the distance that college gave had done wonders for us. A few texts and calls had worked perfectly for us. When he invited me to stay a few weeks during summer I gladly accepted. I wanted to see just how well our relationship had strengthened. Plus I knew he really needed someone.

"How's he doing?" There was genuine concern in Bee's voice. A few months ago, my mom had revealed that she had been having an affair with one of dad's work buddies. She left with him and took my brother down to Georgia.

"I think he's okay. But you know dad, he's not really an emotions guy. He was starting to get some closure but then the divorce papers came in the mail. That really hurt him," I told her, twisting a strand of my hair around my finger. "I just don't know how Lori could do that to him, you know? She won't even let Carl up to visit. The new baby's cute, though. Looks just like Shane." Bee hummed in acknowledgement.

"Well, tell him I said hi, alright?"

"Will do." A few more seconds of silence passed. Until we stopped at a light. Bee looked up and spotted a billboard that sported a very familiar, very handsome face.

"Holy shit!" Bee shrieked, slapping my arm.

"Ow, what the hell?" I hissed, grabbing my shoulder. She pointed frantically at the sign.

"That guy! Isn't that, shit- the hell's his name?" Pulling my eyes from my lap, I let them settle on the object of her excitement. All of the color drained from my face. It was an add for a law firm. There was an old geezer posing proudly on the left, and to his right, was the man who haunted my wet dreams for the majority of high school.

"Negan." I gulped.

"Yea, your dad's hot friend you never shut up about." Bee groaned, pressing on the gas and moving us away from the sign. Negan was a lawyer/make-shift-law-professor and baseball coach at the local community college. He had a sort-of contract with my dad's department. Many times I had come home after school to the two of them puzzling out a case on the kitchen table. Negan was an alpha of alphas, something that got my little omega heart (and other things) pumping until I couldn't breath. His humor and dominating persona made me blush a deep crimson color any time I saw him. Sometimes I would spend hours sitting on the stairs just listening to him talk to my dad. His voice was something else. I had gushed to Bee about him countless times during our times at high school. But I hadn't seen him since my graduation party.

"I wonder if you'll see him again," Bee teased, nudging me again to pull me out of my trance of memories. Then, she did a dramatic gasp. "What if he's your mate?" It was my turn to slap her in the shoulder.

"He's older than my dad!" I squealed, burying my now-blushing cheeks in my hands.

"You're an adult I don't think it matters."

"I think he's engaged."

"Just 'cause there's a goalie doesn't mean you can't scoooore." Bee pulled a face at me and I returned her grimace.

"Whatever, you're lucky we're almost at my house." I huffed, falling back into my seat with my arms crossed over my chest.

"Oh, yea, omega? What are you gonna do?" I rolled my eyes as she laughed off my grumpiness. We rolled to a stop in front of my driveway and a leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks so much, Bee, I really appreciate you," I grinned, popping open the door.

"No problem, babes," She winked, unlocking the trunk "But I swear to the gods, you better fucking call me and give me updates on everything, especially if you run into Mr. Hotcakes." I rolled my eyes once more and promised her I would before closing the door. I retrieved my bag and gave her a wave as she drove down the street. When she was out of view, I took a deep breath and turned around, walking up the driveway to the front door.

I knocked heavily on the dark oak door. While I waited for someone to answer, I decided to look around at the home I had left behind about a year ago. My childhood home had changed now and then over the years, but there were still some iconic pieces of memories in the front yard that could never be forgotten. My personal favorite was Eddie the garden gnome. He was a standard gnome: small and stout with a large white beard that led into a pointy red hat. His eyes were shut and his mouth was curved into a smile. However, he was missing a nose. I grinned as I recalled the unfortunate mishap that caused Eddie to become deformed. I was about twelve, and carl was five. He had gotten a kid's baseball from Negan for his birthday and had begged me to teach him how to play, since I was on the local softball team at the time. I relented and set it up in the front yard. Eddie was our outfielder. Eddie didn't have a mitt. Well, he did, but it was his face. Carl absolutely smashed the first pitch I tossed at him and hit poor Eddie right in the face, shattering his round, pink nose into pieces. Carl bursted into tears and I had to promise him that he did not in fact kill our precious protector of our house. Lori ran out frantically and comforted her son before giving me a thorough chewing out for damaging Eddie. We never used the set again. That she knew of, anyways. Negan always let us play in his yard, though. I smiled at the memory, but the clicking of the lock to the door pulled me from my train of thought. The door swung open and I was met with the smiling face of my father.

"Sweetie, I'm so glad you made it!" He laughed, pulling me in swiftly and squeezing me tight.

"It's good to see you too, dad." I croaked, letting out a small chuckle. I tapped on his shoulder as a signal for him to let go.

"How was the flight?" He asked as he stepped out to grab my bag. I told him it was good but that the screaming kids had given me a bit of a headache. He gave a small laugh and gestured for me to enter. I thanked him and he rolled my bag in behind me. We exchanged a few words but as soon as I walked through the kitchen into the doorway of the living room I was hit by a wall. Not literally, no, but rather a wall of overwhelming scent. It was a delicious swirl of campfire and whiskey, with a hint of cigarettes and leather. I paused for a moment, my eyes forced closed and my lungs taking a deep breath of the intoxicating air. Colors danced across my eyelids. My whole body was flooded with warmth and my toes tingled. I felt safe and calm, and there was something else; something deep within my stomach that I couldn't quite identify, something I never felt before. My eyes snapped open when I felt my father's hand rest firmly on my shoulder.

"I hope you don't mind, sweetie, but I invited company over while I was waiting for you to arrive," He smiled at me. I got a good look at him then. He looked the same, his hair was a bit longer, a bit greyer. But his eyes were different. They were darker, rounder, rawer. I gave a soft smile and told him it was fine. He guided me into the living room. It was then I realized where that deadly smell was coming from. Or, rather, who it was coming from. "Negan, you remember my girl." In that moment, I held my breath as I scanned Negan. He looked fucking amazing, just as he always had. Perfect dimples guarding a charming smile, all surrounded by a gorgeous salt and pepper beard. His hair was longer than it was when I had left, not slicked back, but it still framed his face perfectly. Negan's body was draped casually over the sectional couch, legs crossed at the ankle on the ottoman. His arms were on the top of the couch and his wrists were dangling. He knew he was hot. That bastard. I suddenly became aware of his eyes raking over my form and I shifted from one foot to the other.

"'course I do, Rick," Negan said, voice silky and deep. I couldn't help but let a small shudder run down my spine. All I wanted to do was kneel down in front of him and curl up at his feet. I forced my inner omega down, shaking the thought from my head. "How could I forget the little slugger?" I cringed inside at the nickname. Especially the use of the word 'little'. I begged that he didn't still see me as the kid down the street. Instead as a grown woman. A grown omega.

"Hi, Negan." I greeted with a small smile, swallowing to relieve my dry throat. Now that I was next to him, his scent was clogging all my senses. I gripped onto the couch and lowered myself onto the cushion, hoping to ground myself. It helped, just barely. My heart was pounding, my instincts telling me to submit to this man in front of me. Why, though? Why now? He had never smelled this good before. No alpha had. Was I getting close to my heat? I did have a stomach ache, but that could be from Negan alone.

"Hey, sweetheart. How's college goin'?" Negan asked, sipping on his drink. He kept eye contact with me the whole time. Rick handed me a glass of soda and I thanked him.

"It's good!" I said after taking a sip, thankful for the hydration in my coarse throat "Towards the end it got a little hectic, but I was able to stay on top of everything, thankfully."

"You're studying film, right?" He asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

"That's right," I grinned, crossing my legs to relieve some of the pressure the movement caused to build up in my lower abdomen "You still teaching law?" This caused him to chuckle. Literally music to my ear.

"If that's what you want to fuckin' call it." Negan sighed, falling back to his original position, hands resting in his lap "I talk, the kids kinda listen. I just do it for the coaching job, really. You remember how much I love that damn sport, right?"

"Baseball?" I asked, raising a brow "You mean the only thing you talked about at all of the Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners you were invited to?"

"Touché." Negan grinned. Goddamn that smile. Butterflies erupted in my chest, beating hard against my ribcage, begging to throw myself at his chest and bury myself in him. Rick cleared his throat and smiled at me to get my attention.

"I want to know more about your college experience!" He beamed, rubbing a hand through his beard "Any special alphas you've got your eyes on?" I heard Negan choke slightly on his whiskey. A small bubble of pride rose in my chest. I laughed at his words.

"Dad, I don't think Negan wants to hear about my love life."

"Shit, doll, I don't mind," He grumbled "I don't get to hear any drama now-a-days"

"What do you mean?" I giggled, tilting my head "You argue for a living. Your job is to literally deal with drama."

"Yea, but that's complex drama," He growled, waving his hand dismissively "I wanna hear simple, schoolgirl 'he loves me, he loves me not' kind of bullshit."

"Well sorry to disappoint," I snorted, running a hand through my hair "but no, there's no one I have an eye on." Dad's smile turned into a frown.

"Shame." I heard Negan whisper. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to hear it. It was quiet, barely above his breath, and he said it while twirling his whiskey, following the words with a large gulp.

"You really should start looking, dear." Dad said with a sigh "You know it only gets harder as you get older."

"Dad please, I don't..." I cut him off "Listen, I appreciate you trying to understand this stuff, I really do, but I don't really want to talk about it with my father." He looked at me with an understanding smile.

"Sure," He nodded "But if you ever need anything, anything at all, you just let me know, alright." I nodded.

"Well, this sure has been fun, Ricky-boy," Negan grinned, getting to his feet and stretching his arms far above his head. "We do have that big court case in the mornin', though, and I need my shut-eye."

"Big case, eh?" I asked, rising from my seat as well. Dad nodded and excitement sparked in his eyes.

"You should come! It's an open court and I would love for you to see what I do. I know you always wanted to as a kid, but your mom made you wait until you were older. Well, now's the perfect time!" He rambled, grasping my shoulders.

"W-Well, I dunno, I don't want to be a distraction," I stumbled, taken aback by my father's display of enthusiasm. I turned to Negan, as if asking for permission. He just laughed.

"Oh-o, doll, I don't get distracted. Not in there, not anywhere. Don't you worry about a goddamn thing. You should come, Rick seems like he really wants you to."

"Okay, then," I grinned, nodding in commitment "I'll see you there in the morning then." I looked up to Negan and we locked eyes for a brief moment. But in that moment, something within me quivered. He brushed up against me and smirked down at me.

"See you tomorrow, sweetheart. It was nice to see you. You're lookin' great." It took all my willpower not to let out a whimper as he walked past me, taking his glorious scent with him.

My dad said that he should also get some rest, but that I could stay up as long as I wanted to. I was pretty wiped from my flight so I opted to follow him up the narrow staircase, tugging my bag behind me. I hugged him goodnight and stepped into my room. It hadn't been touched since I left last summer. The forest green bedspread was still perfectly tucked into the mattress and two plump pillows were perched at the head of the bed. My muscles ached for the soft release of sleep. I put my suitcase down by my dresser, taking a moment to smile at some old photos of me and Bee as kids. I showered and brushed my teeth before getting into the comfortable bed. I looked up at the ceiling and giggled softly at the glow-in-the-dark stars shining overhead. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I wasn't thinking of anything in particular, but for some reason, all of my dreams were plagued by the sweet smell, sound, sight, feeling, and taste of Negan.

[quiescisignis]

Belly of the Beast (Heisenberg x F!Reader Smut)

God it’s been forever since I wrote smut. Anyway here, have a thing I threw together because I know metal hobo daddy has tons of fangirls (myself included). May or may not be more in the future, depends on how lazy I am. Word count: 3,124 Contains: Dom Heisenberg, bratty female reader, dubcon, blood play, fingering, cunnilingus, biting, degradation, rough sex, bondage, edging

You were still not sure what possessed you to think you could escape. Perhaps you were a fool. Serving Alcina Dimitrescu and her daughters was not exactly a life of luxury, but you at least had comfortable furnishings, three meals a day and a steady income. However, you had also heard the stories - ones from the few other maids that worked alongside you. The ladies of the house were more than just elegant nobles. Something deeply sinister lurked beneath those bewitching smiles and alluring eyes, something that caused new maids to vanish without a trace. After nearly dropping a roast on Miss Cassandra’s gown the other night, you were met with such a ferocious reprimanding that it left you with few other options.   You’d slipped out of your quarters under the deep violet veil of dusk, using one of the many secret passages of the castle to make your way underground and as far away as your legs would carry you. If any of the other maids had been awake at the time, you’d been either stealthy or lucky enough to evade them. Their business wasn’t yours anyway. Against the odds, you had reached the village outskirts safely - albeit at the cost of dirtying your clothes somewhat. But you were not out of the woods yet. Oh no. He had made sure of that. Heisenberg. You had heard Lady Dimitrescu occasionally mention his name, the venom lacing her voice telling you all you needed to know about their relationship. Other than his status as one of the four powerful Lords of the village, you knew little else about the man. Until now, that is. As soon as you’d dared to set foot onto the perimeter of his territory, your fate was sealed.   “Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Heisenberg approached you with a slow, confident stride. He had you caught in his garage like an animal in a trap, several bits of scrap metal and razor-sharp tools floating within inches of penetrating your flesh and preventing you from making the slightest movement. Up close like this, he towered over you, being much taller than you’d originally believed. His features were pulled into a sadistic smirk, eyes obscured by a pair of dark sunglasses. In a rugged way, he was surprisingly handsome. “One of the big bitch’s little servants? Sure as hell don’t see one of you every day.” He took a casual drag on his cigar, leaning down to blow the smoke right in your face. “What’re you doing out here, hm? She send you to spy on me? Or was it Miranda?” Gingerly turning from him with a cough, you averted your gaze. “I… left. They were going to kill me. Or worse.” His eyebrows rose. “And you managed to get away? Huh.” He sounded genuinely impressed. “Takes some real balls to do that.” A blood-caked saw blade hovering around your neck ghosted it, wracking your body with tremors.   “You might just be tougher than you look.” Swallowing hard, you attempted to muster the bravest expression you could. “I made it this far, didn’t I?” Despite this bluff, you couldn’t deny that fear was once again bubbling within you. This man could kill you in an instant, without even needing to lift a finger. You were completely at his mercy, and yet you had the gall to give him lip? Was your pride really worth this? Heisenberg let out a bark of laughter. “So you did, buttercup. That’s a good attitude to have.” He loomed even closer, lowering his shades to give you a view of piercing green orbs. You reflexively went to pull back, but regretted it the instant something penetrated your skin. Sharp, searing pain shot through you like electricity as you let out a sudden cry. “FUCK!” You grimaced, feeling the sensation of blood oozing from the fresh wound. “Hey, your own fault for moving,” Heisenberg nonchalantly stamped out his cigar. “Must sting, huh?” Denying him a response, you sucked in a hiss through your teeth, cringing as your nerves screamed and tears welled at the corners of your eyes. “Gotta admit,” he continued, removing the blade from your flesh in one swift motion. A scream was ejected from you along with the metal, your limbs now quaking. “I’ve always been curious about why that bitch is obsessed with virgins. Guess now’s the perfect chance to find out.” Your cheeks flooded with heat. “I-I’m-!” The metal tornado around you suddenly ceased, a cacophony of noise ringing out as the various tools all fell to the floor. “You’re what, kitten? What’s the matter?” Pocketing his glasses, Heisenberg placed a hand against the wall behind you with a large, predatory grin that made your heart leap. His face hovered close to yours, a plethora of scruff tickling you as he settled into the crook of your neck. You tensed at the heady warmth of tobacco and whiskey-laden breath hitting your skin, but willed yourself to remain still. He licked the wound in one long stroke, his tongue strong and thick. A rumbling noise issued from somewhere deep in his chest, and then his lips found the cut, sucking and tasting you. He was not quiet about his sampling of your blood, either, slurping and moaning like a man whose thirst had finally been slaked after centuries in the desert. You were unable to repress the moans that spilled forth from you, twitching and squirming against his perverse mouth. A fire had sparked to life deep within your nether regions, and the flame was only growing bigger with each passing moment. This should not turn you on. He should not turn you on. Finally, Heisenberg pulled back, lips and beard smeared a deep crimson. The sight caused goosebumps to rise all over you. “Mmm, tasty,” he mused, tongue lashing out to retrieve the dribbling excess. “The bitch knows how to pick ’em, I’ll give her that much.” Your lower abdomen throbbed, and it was then that you realized you’d been holding your breath. It came out in short, nervous bursts. “I-I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to trespass,” you spoke with genuine apology. “I’ll leave right away, you’ll never see me again, so-“   “Wait, you didn’t think you were actually getting out of here, did you?” Heisenberg gave a hearty, sardonic chuckle that seemed to bounce off every corner of the dingy room. “Oh no, no, no, darlin’. That’s not how this works. You’re mine now.” You barely had time to process this statement when his next words struck you. “Alright, arms up.” “What?” “I said up.” Your wrists were pinned above your head in a millisecond, immediately secured with cuffs upon release. The cold, rusty steel was unyielding; you weren’t getting out of these anytime soon. “Now,” he breathed, looking you over with a primal hunger. “We’re getting somewhere. Still, you got too many clothes on.” Reaching to the collar of your shirt, he tore it down, causing your breasts to spill out. You gasped at the sudden exposure and felt yourself flush in humiliation. He gave a grunt of approval before continuing, destroying your outfit beyond repair and carelessly tossing the remains to the side. Left in your underwear, you unconsciously clamped your thighs together. “Hey, spread those legs.” Against your better judgment, you refused, shaking your head in defiance. A shadow seemed to pass over Heisenberg’s countenance. “You heard me,” he growled, a hand suddenly forcing itself between your thighs. With a vice-like grip, he pried you open.   “Fucking brat,” he spat, running the pad of this thumb over your crotch. “You’re going to show me everything.” Your heartbeat thrummed in your ears as he slid a leather-clad finger down the front of your thin panties, quickly locating your clit and grinding against it. Grabbing your chin with his free hand, he glowered at you with an intensity that made your core pulsate.   “Obey.” Heisenberg leaned into you, teeth brushing the shell of your ear before he sank them into it. You gasped, fruitlessly trying to twist away, but all your wiggling did was make him chuckle condescendingly. “You’re making this way too easy. I could gobble you up. Bones…” he gave another nip to your earlobe. “…and all.” The cuffs dug deeper into your wrists as if they, too, were biting you, removing the slack from your muscles as they wrenched your arms taut. A lump formed in your throat. No, you weren’t going to cry. You couldn’t show him any weakness. The digit rubbing lazy circles on your clit stopped and abruptly entered you, eliciting a gasp. His other hand grasped one of your breasts, teasing the already hardened bud beneath your bra. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, slowly pumping in and out. It was true; your walls were hugging every inch of him, refusing to let go. The wet noises of your arousal filled the air soon after. “This soaked already? You are a dirty little whore, aren’t you?” Another finger slid inside, pistoning alongside its twin. You bit your bottom lip in an attempt to repress your voice, knees threatening to buckle the faster he went. The heat in you was ready to combust. To think he had degraded you to this point, and that he was on the verge of bringing you to climax! You wanted to plead with him, but at the same time, you longed for relief. Insides twisting, your squirming continued, vocalizations only increasing in volume and desperation. Soon, soon, you were so close… Too close!... Every muscle in your body clenched as you came undone, mouth agape in a silent cry. Your orgasm rippled through you in steady, massive waves. Being gracious enough to let you ride it out, Heisenberg withdrew, grasping your chin with his other hand as he raised his slick-covered fingers and sucked on them. His lewd, wolfish eyes bored into you with purpose. “Pig,” you panted, unable to keep the insult to yourself. Not even completely recovered and you still had it in you to talk back. There was a heavy moment of silence in which he cocked an eyebrow at you in feigned ignorance… before pelting your cheek with spit. Using the same thumb that had been on your clit previously, he rubbed the lukewarm liquid into your skin. “You’re not wrong, but I’m only getting started.” You could scarcely believe the audacity of this man. He was crude, lecherous and unapologetic. How in the hell had Mother Miranda seen him as worthy of being a Lord? At least Lady Dimitrescu had proper decorum. You were shaken out of your thoughts with a slap to the same cheek. He was blatantly pushing your buttons now. Glowering daggers but making a point to keep your mouth shut this time, you merely huffed as Heisenberg ripped your panties off and sank to his knees. You gave a slight start when he effortlessly hefted your right leg up against the wall, firmly holding it in place. “Now,” he grunted, settling himself between the valley of your thighs. “Let’s see this little pussy.” Butterflies fluttered inside you as he ogled your most vulnerable spot, and you meekly shut your eyes in shame. It was then that you noticed just how sweaty you’d become; if nothing else, Heisenberg was sublime at flustering you. A gloved thumb spread you open, and you heard him give a low whistle. “So wet,” he breathed, voice dripping with lust.   Something firm and meaty then pressed against your vulva and dragged itself upwards; you didn’t need to guess to know what it was. A husky moan vibrated against your sensitive flesh, making you tremble. You gasped a weak “Oh!” as he came to the delicate bundle of nerves, teasing it with a few slow laps before closing his lips over it. The man suckled like a newborn feeding, his fingers once again digging deep enough to bruise your skin. You unconsciously bucked your hips into him as a strangled moan choked out of you. He responded with a chuckle, swirling about your stiffened clit before delving into your folds. The gyrations of your pelvis increased the further his tongue explored you. How was he so good? Heisenberg moaned into you as he feasted, the humming sensation sending a jolt up your spine. The coil in your was preparing to snap again. As if hearing your thoughts, his tongue retracted, lashing once more over your hard button. “Sorry, girlie, not this time. You’re a damn good meal though.” He gave your weeping flower a pat before releasing your aching leg. As the circulation gradually returned to it, you watched him stand, and your gaze instantly fell to the noticeable tent in his pants. Heat crept back into your cheeks. “W-Wait,” you spluttered. “I’m not… I mean, I don’t…” “Speak up.” Heisenberg freed his cock, head already glistening with a bead of precum, and lightly smacked it against your thigh. “What, scared?” You weren’t ready for this, and seeing his considerable girth had you even more nervous. It must have shown on your face, because he chuckled. “You’re cute, but don’t expect me to be gentle. Turn around and stick your ass out.” You knew better than to fight him at this point and begrudgingly obliged, feeling his gluttonous stare bore into you.   “Good girl, just like that,” he murmured. Your bound wrists were magnetically pressed to the wall while he removed your bra, leaving you stark naked. Something eagerly rubbed against your slit. “Don’t move,” you heard him add as he lined himself up with your opening. You inhaled shakily, bracing yourself for what was about to come. It sheathed into you with one harsh thrust. Your cavern clung to him as he filled it, a loud cry wrenching free of you. “Ohhh fuck yes,” Heisenberg grunted, his nails sinking into your hips as he drew the words out. After taking a brief pause to savor the moment, he began to move, roughly snapping his hips back and forth as he stretched you open. Your voice left you automatically, a continuous stream of gasps intermingled with moans. The sound of skin smacking against skin gradually filled the room and formed a duet with the filthy noises you both uttered. “You’ve seriously gotta be the tightest little bitch ever. I love it.” Heisenberg bent forward to fondle your breasts again, pinching a nipple as his fangs attacked your neck. Your hands clenched in their unrelenting bondage; you couldn’t move them even if you wanted to. “Where you goin’?” he chuckled into your ear, delivering a particularly rough stab. “All this wriggling’s just turning me on even more.” The fingers at your breast suddenly crept about your throat. He gave a squeeze, audibly enjoying how every part of you responded. Keeping the same grip, he rutted into you and chomped down onto your ear, moaning into the bite. “You got even tighter. Been holding out on me, huh?” The wiry hair of his beard scratched you amidst the sloppy kisses he trailed along your jaw. You could only whimper pathetically as you slipped ever closer to breaking. Heisenberg’s other hand, which had been making red crescents in your ass, traveled to your front and began aggressively stroking your swollen clit. “Close again, buttercup? You really wanna cum, don’t you? Poor baby.” He drawled as if intoxicated, breath growing more ragged. “You’ll have to beg for it.” Your chest burned, throat dry and fatigued from the cries being torn from it. “P-Plea…” was all you could get out before your head was wrenched back to meet fierce, blazing eyes. “Use your words,” he commanded, tugging at where he’d tangled his fingers into your hair. His cock pulled out of you until only the tip remained. “Please what?” A stray tear trickled down your cheek, chased by a couple more. You were practically melting into him. “Please, Lord Heisenberg! L-Let me cum! PLEASE, SIR!!”   The Cheshire Cat grin that split his face was your answer. He impaled you fully, making you bounce so rapidly that your mind and vision swam in a cocktail of frenzy. Blinding white euphoria washed over you like a tidal wave. You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Everything went numb and tingled as iridescent spots danced behind your eyelids. Heisenberg was cradling your chin; the softest he’d been with you throughout all this. As your nerve endings revived, you became aware of something hot oozing into the depths of your sex.   “’Atta girl,” came his voice from somewhere far away, along with a pat on your ass. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” A kiss greeted your temple, followed by the smooth exit of his shaft. Soon after, the bindings on your aching wrists relinquished control, finally allowing them to breathe. Your lungs took several gulps of air as well, ignoring how musty it may have been; it didn’t matter. You had earned a moment’s respite. When your eyes eventually drifted open, you straightened, arms dropping limply at your sides. You still shook every now and then from the aftershock, and you could tell you’d be walking at least a little bow-legged the next day. “Phew!” You turned to see Heisenberg tucking himself back into his pants. “Good show, buttercup. Good show.” He lit a new cigar, the embers at the tip glowing a vibrant orange as he looked you over. “Sorry about your clothes, but you really were wearing too much. I’ll getcha some new ones from the Duke.” Looking sorrowfully at the shredded remains of your former outfit, you heaved a defeated sigh and covered yourself. “Not like I have much choice. Just… please don’t make a habit of it.” He laughed, flicking some ash to the floor as he turned to a set of double doors. “No promises. Now come on, I’m sure I’ve got a room for you somewhere.” “Woah, wait, do you really expect me to walk around like-“ A large pipe suddenly whizzed past you, slamming against the wall with a resounding clang. Fear cemented you in place. “Unless you want to be carved up like a turkey and turned into one of my soldiers, kitten, I’d suggest shutting your damn hole.” His tone, which had turned deathly serious with this remark, relaxed as he went on. “You should get your ass in the bath. Here,” he shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around your shoulders. “You can wear my stuff for now. Or would you prefer to spend the rest of the day looking like that? I’m not complaining.” He gave you that same cocky smirk from earlier. Goddammit. “Fuck you.” “Hmm?” “I mean, thank you… Lord Heisenberg.” “That’s what I thought.” You really were a fool.

[you-didnt-see-that-cuming]

Shy Glances | George Weasley x Reader

Summary: George Weasley was quite possibly the most perfect man to ever exist. He’s smart, funny, charming, and incredibly handsome. Pansy Parkinson has known about her roommate and best friend, Y/N’s crush on George for while, watching her do nothing about it. Pansy decides that it’s time for her to take matters into her own hands and quite literally pushes the two of them together with the help of Fred Weasley. All they really did was speed fate up a little bit. 

Warnings: Smut towards the end

Word Count: 8.1k

A/N: This took me a while to finish, it was a request from an anon so I’m hoping that I did their vision justice! This ended up being over 28 pages so it’s a nice long one for you guys!

AO3 Link

Masterlist

Ever since Umbridge had taken over teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, spirits at Hogwarts were not exactly high. The only things that managed to put a smile on anyone’s face were the Weasley twins’ ridiculous pranks and the weekend trips to Hogsmeade. Occasionally, a loud explosion would go off in a nearby hallway, followed closely by the shrieking of Umbridge and the smiles of students who had witnessed whatever had happened.

Despite the twins being identical, Y/N had always had a crush on George. Fred always seemed to be the one to start the chaos that followed them around, but there was something different about George, he was more compassionate, he genuinely cared about other people. The Hogsmeade weekend before the beginning of the Christmas holidays was the subject of almost everyone’s conversations. It had snowed for almost two days straight and Christmas decorations were already being erected around the castle, only adding to the general feeling of excitement. 

Y/N was feeling excited for a whole other reason. The Hogsmeade trips were some of the only chances she had to see George. Being in different houses and years complicated things, and staring throughout mealtimes wasn’t exactly subtle. 

The morning of the trip to Hogsmeade, Y/N and Pansy were woken up abruptly to the sound of feet running down the hallway towards the common room. 

“Damn! What time is it?” Pansy grumbled. She wasn’t exactly a morning person and interrupting her sleep was not a good way to get on her good side. She stretched her hand out to the bedside table and blindly felt around for her watch. Bringing it up to her eyes, Pansy suddenly turned her face into her pillow and screamed in frustration. 

Y/N tried to blink the sleep from her eyes, staring up at the velvet green canopy above the bed. It was dark in the room, the heavy curtains that had been drawn the night before, blocking out the sunlight from the windows at the top of the high ceiling. The only light currently in the room came from the crackling fireplace in the corner across from their beds and the strings of fairy lights that they had taken from the Great Hall to liven the place up. Rolling onto her side to face Pansy, who had now waved her wand to light some of the lamps that were scattered around the room, Y/N yawned loudly and stretched her arms over her head. 

“It is absolutely disgusting that we have to be awake this early, absolutely no respect for other people,” Pansy continued grumbling about her disturbed sleep as she swept the covers dramatically to the side. 

The fire began glowing a little brighter once Pansy’s feet touched the rug covered floor. Y/N soon swung her legs off the bed before sliding out from under the heavy comforter. Pansy flicked her wand and the curtains swished open. It was snowing heavily, and by the looks of it, it had been snowing through the night. There was already a substantial layer of snow on the bottom of the window sill. 

“C’mon, we better get going before everyone leaves without us.” Pansy had already pulled on a pair of jeans and was sliding a black turtleneck over her head. Y/N walked over to her trunk and began pulling items out. 

“What should I wear? I was thinking a sweater, I want to stay warm.” Y/N held up a cream fisherman’s sweater for Pansy to look at.

“Ooh, you need to wear that one, you always look pretty in it. George is going to love it on you.” Pansy smirked at that last bit, dodging a rogue pillow that Y/N threw at her head. 

“We don’t even know if he’ll be at Hogsmeade today,” Y/N looked down and began fiddling with the hem of the sweater she was holding. “Besides, I heard that he was interested in Alicia Spinnet, they’re always at Quidditch practice together.” 

“Just get dressed will you? You’re being ridiculous. I’m going to brush my teeth, I’ll wait for you in the common room.” Pansy pulled a sherpa jacket around her shoulders and a knit hat before she swept out of the room leaving Y/N to herself. 

Y/N sighed and pulled the sweater over her head. Pansy was right, she did always look good in that sweater, especially when she wore it with something green to make her eyes pop. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pansy was waiting at the bottom of the stairs when Y/N finally walked into the common room. 

“Agh! It’s about time! Let’s go, the last group is leaving in a few minutes.” 

The two girls hurried out of the common room and up through the stairs of the dungeons. Once they had reached the courtyard where the last Hogsmeade group was congregating, Pansy pulled Y/N close to her side and whispered into her ear.

“Listen, I spoke to some people and they said that George is definitely going to Hogsmeade today. This is your chance to actually say something to him!”

Y/N opened her mouth to respond to Pansy when her eyes fell on George Weasley jogging into the courtyard next to Harry Potter and his brother Ron. He was laughing at something Harry had said as he ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it back carelessly. He was in a maroon sweatshirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his wand loosely grasped in his left hand. He began twirling them across his fingers before Y/N forced herself to turn around.

“You alright? You look like you’re about to be sick,” Pansy asked. She hadn’t seen George walk into the courtyard yet. 

Y/N shook her head and straightened her back. She put a smile on her face and turned to Pansy.

“I am absolutely fine!”

Pansy had a frown on her face as she studied Y/N’s reaction. Once she had seen George over Y/N’s shoulder, her face dawned in realization.

“You absolute idiot, I thought you were dying for a second, what’s wrong with you?” Pansy lightly punched Y/N’s shoulder. 

Y/N began making excuses when Professor McGonagall’s voice rang out around the courtyard. 

“Could I have everyone’s attention? Now, this is the last trip to Hogsmeade before the winter recess and I expect everyone to be on their best behavior. I don’t want to have to send an owl to anyone’s parents after today so let’s not ruin a nice holiday,” She gave a pointed look towards George, who only smiled brightly in response. “Alright, remember to be back at the castle by 6 o’clock, promptly!”

People began filing out of the courtyard and walking down the path to get to the main road that led into Hogsmeade. Pansy looped her arm around Y/N’s, pulling her close into her side. 

“I want to stay warm, I wasn’t built for cold weather.” Pansy was shivering, even through the heavy jacket she was wearing. She looked down at Y/N’s outfit with a hint of jealousy. “Ugh, I wish I had thought of wearing corduroy trousers, my legs are freezing. I like that color on you though, house pride and all that.”

Y/N was wearing some green corduroy pants, the cream sweater she had pulled from her trunk, and one of her Slytherin scarfs that her mother had knit for her a few years before. She unwrapped the scarf from her neck and placed it around Pansy’s shoulders. 

“Here, wear this if you’re so cold then.”

Pansy smiled and squinted her eyes shut.

“Ooh, thank youuuuu! You know I love you right? This is why we’re best friends.”

“Why, because I give you my clothes when you’re cold?” Y/N asked, laughing a little.

“Yes, was that not clear from the moment we met?” Pansy’s serious tone didn’t match her smiling face. Hogsmeade was slowly coming into sight down the hill. 

“C’mon, I want to get some Fizzing Whizbees and Chocolate Frogs, we can go get a butterbeer to warm up a little after that,” Pansy started running down the hill, pulling Y/N along as they ran past the rest of the group and made a bee-line to Honeydukes. 

Honeydukes was one of the best places to visit in Hogsmeade. There was no better sweets shop in all of England, the entire place was filled to the brim with different assortments of candies and chocolates. For Christmas, the entire place was decorated in red, white, and green decorations and the air smelled like gingerbread and caramel. Needless to say, it was difficult to not be in the Christmas spirit once you walked into the shop.

Y/N was looking through the different flavors of licorice ropes when Pansy began drawing her attention to the two different types of chocolate frogs they had that she was pretending to be interested in. 

Pansy’s eyes glittered in the way they usually did whenever she was planning something mischievous, but before Y/N could say anything, Pansy’s hands collided with her shoulders and shoved her backwards.

Y/N stumbled back a few steps before she crashed up against someone.

“Oof!” Y/N felt as though the wind had been knocked out of her. “Oh my god, I am so so sorr-” Y/N stopped apologizing as she turned around and looked up to see whose chest it was that she had just slammed into. To her surprise, she was soon staring into the eyes of George Weasley. 

George had a surprised look on his face before a mischievous smile took its place. Now that Y/N was this close to him, she could smell his cologne. It was intoxicating. Notes of evergreen and birch smoke wafted across his chest and Y/N felt her knees go weak. 

“Oh you don’t have to apologize, I should have been watching where I was going,” George’s eyes narrowed a little, the smile still present on his face. “I don’t think I know your name. I’m George, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Uh, my name is Y/N, it’s a pleasure to meet you as well.”

It was quiet for a few seconds as the two stared at one another before Pansy suddenly appeared next to Y/N.

“Hey, are you ready to go? I want a butterbeer.”

“Um, what?” Y/N asked, a little dazed. She didn’t get an answer to her question before Pansy was dragging her by the arm towards the door. Y/N looked back at George, only to find him staring back at her, a confused smile on his face. The two made eye contact for a second before the door slammed shut and he disappeared from view. 

“Oh my god! What the bloody hell was that?! I shove you into him, hoping you’ll take that moment and seduce him with those bedroom eyes you make at him all the time, but no! Instead, you stare at him and become fucking Bambi!”

Y/N gaped at Pansy who was still dragging her down the street. 

“Wha- I do not make bedroom eyes at him!”

Pansy gave her an exasperated look.

“Now I really do need a butterbeer, and you’re paying.” Pansy sighed before they walked into the Three Broomsticks. 

After Pansy had gotten two steaming mugs of butterbeer, the two of them sat down at an empty table in the middle of the tavern. Madam Rosmerta had obviously spared no expense with the decorations and had put up evergreen garlands and red bows across the walls and beams. It was easy to feel comfortable and at home in the Three Broomsticks.

The two girls were chatting aimlessly to distract themselves as they sipped on their butterbeers until the entrance to the tavern blew open. Their eyes were drawn to the door as the Weasley twins walked in, followed closely by Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger. They were shaking snow off of their heads and stomping their boots when Y/N felt Pansy’s hand squish her cheeks and turn her head towards her. 

“Hey! You need to keep it together this time, alright?” Pansy let go of Y/N’s cheeks and went back to her butterbeer as if nothing happened. Y/N was rubbing her cheek when someone cleared their throat.

Standing next to their table, was George, who was towering over the two of them with a kind smile on his face. 

“Hey,” His voice was soft and reminded Y/N of melted caramel and velvet. “I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye back in Honeydukes. I think I’ve seen you around Hogwarts, you’re in my brother’s year, right?”

“Oh! Yeah, I am, we’re in the same Potions class together I’m pretty sure. He’s really nice.”

The two of them stared at one another for a few seconds before Pansy finally broke the silence.

“So! Y/N here was actually just telling me about how much she liked your most recent prank on Umbridge with the firecrackers in her office.”

Seemingly out of nowhere, Fred Weasley appeared right next to George.

“Does she now? Well, I can tell you for a fact, that George was the brains behind that one.”

Fred and Pansy shared a knowing look with one another while Y/N and George both shyly made eye contact. 

“Um, yeah, I thought it was really clever of you guys, I heard that Umbridge was trying to get rid of the smell of it for weeks. She still smells like smoke sometimes in Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

The twins smiled and laughed a little at your response. 

“Yeah, apparently Umbridge spent four hours trying to get rid of it before she gave up,” George said, a little bashfully. 

Fred and George pulled two chairs up to their table and the four continued talking, especially George and Y/N. By the time it was almost time to head back, the two were heavily invested in listening to the other’s voice. The entire walk back to the castle, George and Y/N both fell into a comfortable conversation that ended far too quickly.

They were talking about their favorite books when they reached the entrance to the Great Hall. 

“Unfortunately, this is where I have to leave you, Ms. L/N,” George said in a solemn, posh voice. Y/N smiled.

“I suppose so Mr. Weasley. Until we meet again.” Y/N gave a shy little curtsy in response. George grabbed Y/N’s hand and swept into a deep bow before kissing the top of her hand. 

The two then parted ways, heading to their respective house tables where they continued to sneak glances and stares at one another through the rest of the night. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week later, Y/N was still thinking about George. Occasionally, their eyes would meet from across the room in the Great Hall or as they passed by one another in the hallways. It was difficult to think about anything but George. 

However, on the last few days remaining before the winter holidays started, George stopped showing up around school. In fact, all of the Weasleys seemed to have disappeared from Hogwarts. 

By the time the Hogwarts Express came to take everyone back home for the holidays, Y/N had given up on looking for him. Pansy was good at distracting Y/N by coming up with different plans to see each other before school resumed. This distracting continued up until they reached Platform 9 ¾. 

The first three days of the break were peaceful and relaxing, a much-needed change from the O.W.L exams preparation the professors at school had them doing. On the fourth day, Y/N received a large barn owl carrying a letter. It had crashed into one of the closed kitchen windows during breakfast, completely missing the open one right next to it. After making sure that the owl was uninjured and able to stand back up on its feet, Y/N looked at the letter that the owl had been carrying. 

The front of the envelope was addressed to Y/N in a messy scrawl of blue ink. Once she had opened the letter and scanned to the bottom of the page to see who it was from, her eyes widened.

“Sorry, I’ll be right back, this is important.” Y/N quickly excused herself from the table and ran to her room where she leaped onto her bed in order to read the letter thoroughly.

Dear Y/N,

I hope your holiday is going well! I know I had to leave pretty suddenly before the break and I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye or even spend a lot of time with you. Maybe we could spend a Hogsmeade trip together when we get back?

- George Weasley

Once Y/N had read through the letter another three times, just to make sure she had actually read it correctly, she turned and screamed into her pillow. 

After laying there for a few seconds, contemplating what to do next, she quickly ran over to her desk and pulled a piece of parchment and a quill from the drawer. Dipping the quill into the open inkwell that was sitting in front of her, she began writing a letter to Pansy. 

Dear Pansy,

I have just received a letter from George Weasley! He has asked me to spend a Hogsmeade trip with him once we get back to school. How do I respond?! What do I say?

-Y/N

Y/N blew on the page to dry the ink and quickly folded the letter into thirds before shoving it into an envelope and closing it with a wax seal. In green ink, she wrote Pansy’s name and address before rushing back into the kitchen. She would need to send the letter by the family owl, Athena.

“Mum, I’m going to borrow Athena, I have a letter I need to send to Pansy.” Y/N didn’t wait for a response before she opened Athena’s cage and let her hop onto her wrist. She held out the envelope and the owl took it in its beak.

“Take this to Pansy, alright? Make sure she writes back immediately.”

With a muffled hoot, Athena flapped her wings before taking off and soaring out through the window and over the treeline. 

Only a few hours later, Y/N received a response from Pansy. 

Dear Y/N,

I was going to send a Howler with Owlexander, but Mum said I couldn’t. Apparently, Owlexander would get too spooked if the Howler went off mid-flight. SAY YES!! Tell him that you would love to spend a Hogsmeade trip with him and that you are looking forward to it. Also, ask about how he is doing and stuff like that if you want to keep receiving letters from him during the holiday. 

-Pansy

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once it was time to return to Hogwarts, Y/N was filled with dread and excitement. On one hand, she would be seeing George for the first time since they had started writing letters to one another. On the other, Umbridge and the other professors would be piling on the homework and O.W.L.s preparation to the point that Y/N probably wouldn’t even be able to enjoy spending time with George. 

Y/N didn’t see George until they were disembarking from the train once they had arrived at Hogsmeade station. He was standing with the rest of his siblings, as well as Hermione and Harry. When the two had finally made eye contact, Y/N gave a shy wave to George. However, once George raised his hand to wave back, Ron’s voice spoke loudly.

“Is that the Slytherin girl you fancy, George?”

Y/N had to stifle a giggle as George’s face went red and he quickly elbowed Ron in the stomach. Y/N felt Pansy’s hand close around hers, pulling her off towards the carriages that were waiting to take the students back up to the castle. Once they had arrived at an available carriage, Y/N began looking around for a familiar glimpse of copper hair but was quickly yanked in. Pansy was yet again ill-prepared for the cold winter weather and was shivering so hard that the seat was almost vibrating. 

“Close the door, I want to keep as much of the warm air in.” Pansy’s sock-clad feet were pushed up against the small metal furnace in the middle of the floor. She gave a smirk as she leaned back against the cushioned seats. “You can invite Weasley to join us if he happens to ‘walk’ by.”

Y/N continued looking out the window, hoping for even the smallest sign of George, but the fogging of the windows only made it more difficult to see anything through the crowd of black robes. 

Soon enough, the carriage was filled with some girls from Ravenclaw who had managed to get a last-minute seat before the carriages began up the path. 

Pansy noticed Y/N’s defeated look and lightly poked her leg.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, you’ll see each other in only a few minutes, then you guys can stare at each other all through dinner.”

Throughout the feast, Y/N and George made eye contact several times which was closely followed by fierce blushes. Their glances couldn’t have been more obvious, and by the time Professor Dumbledore had cleared their plates and dismissed them from the Great Hall, both Pansy and Fred were shoving Y/N and George towards one another so that they could finally talk.

Their paths finally crossed when they walked through the large wooden doors that guarded the entrance to the Great Hall. George pulled Y/N aside and leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“Can I walk you back to your dormitory?”

Together, they took the long way down to the dungeons, talking quietly.

“How was your holiday?” Y/N asked once they had started the descent into the dungeons. 

George gave a strained smile in response.

“It was alright, I’m sure you must have heard about my dad and everything.”

Y/N felt a surge of sympathy, her parents had come home from working at the Ministry with the news of what had happened to Mr. Weasley.

“Yeah, I’m really sorry that you all had to go through that. I’m glad he’s alright now, Mum and Dad said that St. Mungos had discharged him.”

“Yeah, we were all really relieved to hear that he was going to be okay. But what about you, how was your holiday?”

“It was alright, nice and relaxing, you know? But it could have been better.”

George had a confused smile on his face at her last comment.

“Oh? How so?”

They had finally reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room when Y/N turned to answer him.

“It would have been better if I had been able to see you.” Y/N then entered the common room and left George with his mouth hanging open slightly in surprise and a vibrant flush across his cheeks. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting in the Astronomy Tower late at night was one of Y/N’s favorite ways to distract herself from the stress of assignments and exams. On nights when Astronomy classes weren’t being held, Y/N would lie on her back and watch the night sky through the enchanted ceiling. Focusing on finding constellations in the silence and stillness was meditative.

It was crisp in the tower, and Y/N choice of sleep shorts and one of Pansy’s silk pajama tops didn’t do much to fend off the cold breeze. Y/N was lost in thought when a sudden knocking on the side of the door alerted her to another person’s presence. She turned to see George leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed across his chest. He was wearing some plaid pajama pants and a loose, black t-shirt. He looked really good in casual clothes like this. The corner of his mouth was turned up slightly in a reassuring smile. 

“Hey,” Y/N said in a soft voice. 

“You don’t mind if I join you, do you?” George asked, taking a few steps into the room. 

Y/N smiled and shook her head.

“Not at all.”

A comfortable silence surrounded them for a brief moment. 

“So what brings you up here this late at night?” George asked, now leaning against one of the window sills. 

“I like to come up and watch the stars, it’s a nice way to relax after a long day.” Y/N looked at him quizzically. “I could ask you the same question, what are you doing up here?”

George laughed quietly before pulling out a piece of parchment from his pajama bottom’s pockets.

“I received an owl at my window with this letter.”

George unfolded the parchment and read aloud.

“Y/N is up in the Astronomy Tower by herself. Go for it.”

Y/N turned to hide the blush that was forming across her face. There was no doubt in her mind that Pansy had sent that letter, she was the only one who knew where Y/N had gone to.

“You know, I wanted to ask you to Hogsmeade earlier, before we left for the holidays.” George was looking at his feet, his hands shoved in his pockets. “I was too scared to ask you when we were in Hogsmeade, I didn’t think you would say yes.”

Y/N studied George’s posture closely. His shoulders were curled in, he seemed to be trying to make himself look as small as possible without being too conspicuous.

“Well now you know that there is nothing to be scared about,” Y/N hesitated before pushing herself away from the wall she was leaning on. “Come and help me get some blankets from the closet, I’m pretty sure Professor Sinistra keeps some extras in there.”

George had a bemused expression on his face, but followed Y/N to a small closet door. Inside the closet were scrolls of parchment, planetary charts, and astrological drawings for Professor Sinistra’s classes, some dusty telescopes, and rolls of blankets that were used for cold nights. 

Spreading the blankets on the floor, they laid down next to one another, staring at the sky above them. There wasn’t a cloud in sight and the stars were bright, the perfect night for stargazing. They watched the sky silently before Y/N broke the silence.

 “That constellation over there is Perseus,” Y/N was pointing to a cluster of stars above them, “I always loved hearing his story in class.”

“Why’s that?”

There was a beat of silence.

“He was one of the only Greek heroes who actually had a happy ending. That’s all any of us really want, a happy ending.”

“Well, what was Perseus’ happy ending?”

Y/N smiled to herself.

“He got the girl and married a princess.”

George was quiet for a moment before he responded. 

“Yeah, that does sound like a happy ending.”

Y/N felt George’s fingers brush against the back of her hand. She opened her palm and felt George’s hand clasp hers, their fingers intertwining together.

“You know, if you had asked me during that first Hogsmeade trip, I would have said yes.” Y/N spoke softly. It was quiet between them once again and Y/N turned her head to the side.

George had turned onto his side to look at Y/N. The usual mischievous smirk was gone, replaced instead by a look of relief and a gentle smile resting on his lips.

Y/N’s eyes flitted down to his mouth before looking into his eyes once again. 

George’s other hand came up to her face, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear before stroking her cheek. His thumb traced down her cheek and around the outline of her lips, parting them slightly. 

Y/N softly bit down on his thumb, a smile behind her eyes. George withdrew his hand a little before gently tilting her chin towards him. Y/N raised her hand to caress his cheek and pulled him into a soft kiss. 

His lips were soft and warm, and she felt herself melt into his embrace. The kiss felt sweet and comforting, almost like warm honey running down her throat. She hadn’t realized how pliant she had become in his grasp until he moved his hand to the small of her back and around her waist, pulling her closer to his body. Y/N could feel the warmth of his chest pressing against her own, fending off the crisp coolness that had filled the tower. 

Her hand that was resting on his cheek moved to the back of his neck and she tangled her fingers through his hair. A low moan resonated from his throat and he gripped her waist, pulling her even closer to him. 

Her heart was racing and she felt a spark in the pit of her stomach that was growing more ravenous by the second. George pulled back a little, breaking the kiss before he started kissing down her neck, slowly tracing a line to her collarbone. 

Euphoria couldn’t even begin to describe what Y/N was feeling as George’s hands slid underneath her shirt, his hands warm and comforting. 

With a sudden burst of bravery, Y/N took their still clasped hands and guided them to her sleep shorts. George froze for a second before slowly drawing back.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to rush you into anything you don’t want to do.” His face had a nervous expression painted across it.

“I’m sure. Are you?” Y/N studied his face, his mouth twitching into a smile.

“Yeah, yeah I’m sure.” 

George pulled the sleep shorts down Y/N’s legs, who kicked them off carelessly to a corner of the tower. Y/N felt a shiver course down her body once her legs were fully exposed to the night’s air. 

George pushed himself up, his legs straddling Y/N’s waist, and pulled his shirt over his head in one, seamless movement. His body was toned, no doubt from the hours of Quidditch practice, and the way the silver light coming through the open windows glanced off his body made it look like moonlight was made just for him.

George’s head was cocked to the side, as if he was considering what to do next. His eyes looked heavy and dark, a stark contrast to their usual bright and lively expression.

“Why don’t you take that off for me?” 

He nodded to the sleep shirt that Y/N was still wearing. Y/N’s hands moved slowly, undoing the buttons carefully. After the shirt had been completely undone, George brushed the fabric off her shoulders. He paused for a moment, looking at Y/N, before he cupped the back of her head and pulled her into another kiss. There was something different about him now though, this kiss felt more passionate and heated. Y/N’s hands were embracing George’s cheek and the back of his head, once again tangling themselves in his soft hair. 

George’s hips were slowly grinding down into Y/N’s, setting off sparks deep within her stomach. Her reaction to his touch made her reflect for a moment, no one else had ever had this kind of effect on her before, no one else made her swoon just by looking her way, and certainly no one had made her fall apart under their touch. 

Y/N’s hand traced down George’s neck, down his chest, and down to the waistband of his pants. He seemed to understand what she was asking and wordlessly pushed the elastic band down, kicking the pants somewhere haphazardly. The sparks Y/N had felt in the pit of her stomach earlier were coming back in full force. 

George pushed Y/N’s legs apart and slotted himself in between them, pulling her hips closer to his face. There was a smile behind his eyes as he pressed a kiss to each of her hip bones, never breaking eye contact. 

“You know, I have been wanting to do this for ages,” George began kissing up the inside of her thigh. Y/N threw her head back, her eyes closed as she reveled in his touch.

Y/N didn’t have time to respond as George’s thumb found and slowly circled her clit. A low moan escaped from her and Y/N threaded her fingers through the fringe on his head. Y/N could feel his smile against her thigh.

“But don’t worry, I’m about to make it up to the both of us.”

His thumb drew back suddenly, and Y/N was about to groan in protest until she felt his tongue take its place. Her grip on his hair tightened between her fingers. Y/N’s breaths were shallow now as she tried to keep her voice down. But with each passing moment, she found it more difficult to keep the sounds at bay.

George’s tongue expertly moved, making Y/N fall apart with each passing moment. It was almost as if time didn’t exist, all that mattered was the pleasure that Y/N was experiencing and that George was the one making her feel this way.

Y/N felt the pressure in her stomach begin to rise and grow in intensity. Each breath was now a gasp for air as George became more fervent with his movements. His hands were tightly gripping her thighs and waist, pushing them down so that she could not writhe around. Her leg began to shake and Y/N had to bite down on her hand to stop the loud moans that were threatening to escape from her. 

“I-I’m going to-” Y/N couldn’t finish her sentence, but George seemed to understand. He increased his relentless pace, not giving Y/N a moment to fall from the high she was about to experience. 

Her vision went white and her back arched as the feeling of euphoria became all-consuming. With one final gasp, Y/N’s orgasm faded into a muted throb in the core of her stomach once again. Her grip loosened on George’s hair, her hand sliding down to his cheek.

The mischievous knowing smirk was on his face again, his tongue resting between his teeth. 

“That was-,” Y/N took a deep breath.

“Amazing? Wondrous? Phenomenal?” George had a proud tone to his voice.

“Aren’t you smug? I was going to say mind-blowing but you don’t seem to need an ego boost.”

Her hand dropped from his cheek and rested on her stomach, which was rising and falling with every deep breath she took. 

George pushed himself up onto his arms and moved so that his face was only inches from Y/N’s. Her hands came up to his bare waist, where they then slowly moved up his back, tracing over the lines of muscle, and finally to his shoulder and the back of his neck. Her fingers threaded through the short hairs at the nape of his neck, tracing light patterns that sent shutters down George’s spine. 

“You,” George leaned down and kissed the tip of Y/N’s nose, “are so,” a kiss on her left cheek, “incredibly,” a kiss on her right cheek “beautiful,” and finally, a kiss on her awaiting lips. 

“Are you ready?” George’s voice was soft, a vague expression of concern on his face. 

“Yeah, I am.” Y/N pulled his waist closer to hers, giving George the permission he needed to continue. 

George slowly entered Y/N, moving carefully as to not make any sudden movements. Once his hips were flush with Y/N’s, he paused, giving her a moment to adjust to the sudden pressure. Y/N let out a content sigh, which George took as a sign to move, and he slowly began pulling out.

His hips began to find an easy rhythm and Y/N pulled him down into a heady and meaningful kiss. Every movement was slow and deep, Y/N’s hips raising to meet George’s with each thrust. The cold breeze that was washing over them went unnoticed, the heat from their bodies shielding and keeping them warm. Y/N could feel George’s muscles flex with the rise and fall of his chest and the rolling of his hips which only added to the electric feeling in her core. 

Y/N’s back arched as George drove into the very spot that made her fall apart, soft moans falling from her parted lips in concurrence with George’s quiet grunts. With each thrust forward, George kissed along the line of Y/N’s neck and down to her chest, his lips grazing over her collarbones. 

“D-don’t stop,” Y/N gasped, tensing as his cock somehow drove deeper into her than it had before. Her request elicited a breathy laugh from George’s mouth.

“Does that feel good sweetheart?” his voice had a teasing tone to it, she could hear his smile in his words.

“Yes, yes it feels so good,” she moaned loudly, not caring anymore about keeping quiet. George pushed himself up in response, his hand tightly gripping onto her waist as he drove into her, pulling her down onto his cock with force.

‘Oh my god, right there,” Y/N continued babbling praise, her mind going blank. Each breath was a gasp for air, her legs were trembling violently as she began to approach her high once again. Once George’s calloused fingers came down to her clit, she felt her orgasm crash over her once again, loud moans falling from her mouth. 

Y/N felt herself tense around George and his hips began to stutter, the steady rhythm losing its pattern as he began chasing his high after Y/N’s. It only took a few more stroked before his orgasm finally washed over his body, his toned arms supporting his upper body as he fell forward. 

They were both panting, trying to catch their breaths in the wake of their climaxes. George carefully pulled out and laid down beside Y/N, his arms trembling slightly. Y/N turned to face George and rested her head against his chest, which was rising and falling rapidly. The only sound within the tower was their heavy breathing as they took a few moments to recover.

George’s fingertips brushed the tops of her thighs, following the curves and dips of her waist and hips. His hand finally came to rest on her lower back, where he began tracing aimless patterns. The light patterns sent exhilarated shivers down Y/N’s spine, keeping her in a state of bliss. If heaven was anything but this, she didn’t want it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After they had magically cleaned up after themselves and put the blankets back into the closet, they walked down the spiraling staircase from the Astronomy Tower, hand in hand. They were surrounded by a comfortable silence, the only sounds being their footsteps on the stone steps and the occasional whisper from the portraits on the walls. 

George noticed the hint of a smile that was resting on Y/N face. When they had turned the corner to an empty hallway, George nudged her shoulder, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“What are you smiling about?” 

She shook her head, smiling.

“I’m just really happy right now.”

“Me too,” he responded, squeezing her hand reassuringly. A smirk suddenly appeared on his face, “how long did you actually like me then?”

Y/N felt her cheeks flush with heat.

“Well I’ve always liked your pranks and I’ve always thought you were attractive, but I think it was the Yule Ball where I realized that I liked you. I don’t know if you remember this, but you asked me to dance. No one had ever asked me to dance before,” she glanced up at George’s face, which was now dawning in realization.

“Oh yeah! I remember that, Fred dared me to ask the prettiest girl in the room for a dance. I asked McGonagall but she said no, so I asked you instead,” a teasing smile was on his face now, “Have you really liked me for all that time?”

“Yeah, I think Pansy became so fed up that she had to start intervening.”

“Is that why she shoved you into me that day in Hogsmeade?” George laughed, “I think Fred was getting fed up as well, he’s practically been shoving me towards the Slytherin table every day.”

They crossed through the entrance hall towards the grand staircase, where they would descend down to the entrance to the dungeons. A gust of cold air blew down through the halls from the Quad, sending a shiver down Y/N’s spine. George pulled her close into his side and they continued, his arm wrapped securely around her shoulders. 

They descended the steps to the dungeons and past the Potions classrooms and down one final set of stairs to the entrance to the Slytherin common room. Most of the time, the cold and wet feeling of the dungeons before walking into the warm and cozy common room was unsettling for Y/N, but she didn’t mind it as much when she was standing next to George. 

“I had a really nice time tonight. I’m glad you came up to the tower,” Y/N said, turning to say her goodbyes to George. 

“I had a nice time too,” his voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. Y/N looked up to the hair that was falling across his forehead and tucked it away from his face. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then? At breakfast?” she tried not to sound too hopeful, but it was difficult to not look forward to the next time they saw one another. 

“Yeah, I will. And then maybe I can take you out on a real date?”

“I would love that.”

They both leaned forward for one final kiss goodbye, then Y/N turned to the stone wall and uttered the password. The wall dissolved away and she walked through, looking back at George. As they brought their hands up to wave goodbye, the wall reformed and became solid between them once again. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The common room was pretty much empty, with the occasional cat stretching out on the plush velvet couches, and the fire in the fireplace now a pile of crackling logs. Different patterns of light were dancing around the room, shining through the transparent ceiling beneath the Black Lake. The only thing that could be seen through the inky darkness was the rippling moon, which was hanging brightly in the sky. Even the lake seemed to be asleep at this hour.

Y/N quietly tiptoed up the winding stone staircase to the girls’ dormitories where she shared a room with Pansy. She attempted to silently slide the door open, trying not to wake anyone, but her efforts were abandoned as soon as Pansy crashed into her, a barrage of questions pouring from her mouth.

“Was he there? What happened? Why were you up there so long, I thought Filch had caught you for sure!” Pansy was pulling Y/N by the arm to her bed, insisting that she answer every question that was thrown her way. 

Once Y/N was situated on the bed, she began to tell Pansy about everything that had happened in the tower. Once she had gotten to the part where they kissed, Pansy let out a gasp and her hand flew over her mouth in shock.

“So he admitted that he liked you and he kissed you under the stars?” her voice was a whisper this time, her eyes rounding in shock.

“Mmhmm, but wait, it gets better,” Y/N giggled, leaning forward to continue her story in hushed tones. Pansy swooned at all the right moments and gasped encouragingly whenever a new detail of Y/N’s night with George was brought up.

It was almost sunrise by the time they had finished talking about George and sleep was pulling at their eyes.

“We better get some sleep now before we have to go down to breakfast,” Pansy yawned loudly, stretching her legs out before walking over to her bed. She looked at her watch as she crawled under the covers, “we should be able to get a few hours in before those damn first years wake us up again.” 

Y/N pulled the covers back and slid between the cool sheets, thinking about the next time she would see George and what she would say to him. The fairy lights above their heads dimmed slightly and the fire in the fireplace slowed to a soft crackle.

“I’ll see you in the morning then. Good night,” Y/N began to draw the velvet curtains around her bed closed. There was a smirk on Pansy’s face as she began to close her curtains as well.

“Oh, you definitely had a good night,” Pansy ducked, laughing loudly as a hairbrush was thrown her way, narrowly missing her head. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once they had gotten a few good hours of sleep, the two of them walked down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Y/N was fiddling with the hem of her sleeve nervously as they entered the entrance hall.

“Oh my god, will you stop futzing with it? Just act normal, you’ll be fine,” Pansy whispered, hooking her arm around Y/N’s. They finally walked through the large doors that entered into the Great Hall and were greeted by the loud chatter and clattering of silverware against plates. The hum only grew louder when Slytherin’s Quidditch team walked into the Great Hall wearing their emerald green Quidditch robes. 

“I completely forgot, there’s Quidditch today!” Y/N remarked to Pansy as they sat down. Pansy was already filling her plate with some bacon and scrambled eggs.

“What do you mean ‘you forgot’? They’re playing Gryffindor, I would have thought you’d have the Gryffindor Quidditch schedule memorized.”

It wasn’t until a few minutes later when Y/N finally caught a glimpse of fiery hair walking through the entrance and over to the Gryffindor table. George and the rest of the Gryffindor team strode into the Great Hall to cheers and applause from the Gryffindor table. They were wearing their scarlet Quidditch robes, a stark contrast to the black school robes everyone else was wearing. George was carrying a brown paper parcel wrapped in twine in his hands which he slipped underneath his robes.

It was nearing the end of breakfast when George stood up and walked over to the Slytherin table, stopping in front of Y/N.

“Can I speak to you for a moment?”

Y/N nodded her head slightly.

“Yeah,” Y/N’s voice was quiet, almost a whisper. She stood from the bench and followed George out into the entrance hall. Y/N could feel people’s eyes on her as she trailed behind George, it wasn’t every day that a Gryffindor walked up to the Slytherin table to talk to someone, let alone pull them aside for a private conversation. 

George pulled her behind a pillar so that her back was against the stone wall. He pulled the wrapped parcel up and held it out for her to take.

“I was hoping you would wear it at the match today,” George said as Y/N carefully untied the twine holding the brown paper together. The paper fell away to reveal a red and gold scarf.

“I know we’re playing Slytherin and all, you don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to.”

Y/N brought it up to her nose and breathed in, the scent seemed to envelop her senses. She glanced up at George’s face, a smile resting on her lips.

“I would love to,” Y/N wrapped the scarf around her neck, tossing one end over her shoulder, “how do I look?”

George cupped her cheeks and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Wonderful. Really wonderful”

Y/N walked back into the Great Hall still wearing the scarf. She sat down next to Pansy again and casually grabbed a croissant from Pansy’s plate, the corners of her mouth upturned slightly. Pansy leaned forward, her elbow leaning on the table and an amazed look on her face.

“Are you going to tell me what that was about?” a smile was growing on Pansy’s face as she stole a few glances at the scarf.

“Oh nothing,” Y/N paused for a moment, the croissant inches from her mouth. She had a look on her face like she was contemplating something amusing before she spoke again, “I’m just really excited for Quidditch today.”