#it just sounds so loud when u are swallowing in a silent library

[spicyvampire]

In da library swallowing water from my waterbottle very loudly

[ofmermaidstories]

U think bakugo ever gets so angry his mouth misses surrender reader’s when he’s trying to have a passionate heated make out session because I do

Katsuki’s home for once, sleeping off the last few days in the darkness of his room, cocooned.

It’s early evening before he remerges. You’re peeling the potatoes for dinner when you hear him shuffling from the room to the bath, keeping track of him by the running of the taps before he closes the door, the sound cutting off — leaving you alone in the quiet of his large apartment, trying to amuse yourself by carving the perfect spiral of a potato peel; petty, silly.

When he wakes up after a marathon sleep it always takes him a while to come back, to return to the here and now; his mind catching up with the rest of his body as it realises it can finally relax, can take these next few hours to pause and breathe. He can be reticent even on good days: after big missions, after a series of demanding patrols, he’s even more silent, staying that way until something annoys him enough that he comes back into himself — or makes him laugh in his startling way.

The city outside is falling into dusk: the windows opened wide to the pink-twilight city glimmer. You hum along to a song on the television, jiggling the rice you’re rinsing and hear the traceable movement of your Pro Hero as he shuffles back into the living room.

“Hi!” You call out behind you cheerily, rinsing your hands and darting between the sink and the fridge. The door rattles as you open it, looking for the cold water bottle you set aside for him, earlier — but then big arms are slipping around you, enveloping you, and there’s the touch of lips against your neck, the feel of Katsuki’s fine hair against your face. The soapy, minty freshness of him, clean from washing up.

You lean back into the weight of him, the warmth, and he pulls you in tighter; breathing in deeply, like he’s still half-asleep. He very well might be — for a moment you stand together in front of the open refrigerator as you trace the veins of his hands, his arms, nosing into the side of his head where its against you.

“Hi,” You say again: softer, against the fine down of hair by his ear. Everything within you is vibrating that he’s here, that you’re together — your very cells rioting, hyperaware of his closeness. The invasion of space that only belongs to him.

The fridge beeps. You try and tug away from his arms to get his drink, to close the door — he pulls you back and kicks the door shut with a grunt. “No,” He says, and it’s ridiculous enough that you laugh. It’s the jiggling of the rice you were rinsing, the weight against the sieve; your body moves against his and he buries his face in your neck, like he’s trying to osmosis your laughter through your skin.

You breathe in and settle and eventually he lets you turn in his arms, your hands snaking up between you, his bare chest and going to his face, cupping his cheeks. The lines under his eyes are deeper, now, than they have been since you’ve known him — he looks at you, ruby eyes dark and tired, and your heart tightens.

You thumb the shadows of his face, gently. The feather-light touch of handling something so irredeemably precious. In answer he dips into you, a headbutt with no real force; you’re breathing one another in now, and you let your hands slip from the panes of his face to his shoulders, your fingertips mapping the familiar feel of him.

“You need more sleep,” You whisper to him; the tiny space between you gaining all the sanctity of a Library’s quiet.

Katsuki huffs. It’s light against you. “D’wanna.” He says, annoyed, childish. His hands - hands that have destroyed, that have saved, that are now on you - tighten. You wait, tracing the edges of the scar on his shoulder.

“Missed you ‘n shit.” He says at last, even more annoyed, now.

You droop into him, wilting like a flower; you’ve missed him too. He hasn’t been home in almost a week — it’s not the longest of his stints, not lately, and you knew what you were signing up for, when you fell for him — but it doesn’t make it any easier. When he is home the two of you sleep in shifts, almost: only able to be together, both awake and coherent, for a few stolen hours. It means the need to be near him has gotten so persuasive, lately, that sometimes when you’re here and he’s in bed, sleeping off a battle, you crawl in next to him; carefully and lightly, curling into his warmth and forcing yourself into a midday nap, just to be near him, to share his space. You always awake entangled and overheated, afterwards — Katsuki finding you in his sleep and dragging you close, missing you just as much as you do him, even in his dreams. It’s never comfortable — he runs hot, constantly, and it’s like sleeping with a heater but —

It doesn’t matter. It’s just more proof that he’s there. That he’s with you, alive and home safe.

There’s a light touch of lips at your neck once more; leading, ghost-like tracing, kisses, from the dip of your collarbone to just under your jaw bone as you tilt, giving him more access. Everything within you pulses, tightens — he nips at the soft skin just below your ear and you finally turn your face to his, enough to feel the sharp intake of his breath before his lips meet yours, deepening the kiss almost instantly.

His mouth is cool and tastes of mint and aniseed from his toothpaste and mouthwash, respectively — you let him spin you, pressing you into the counter. He pulls away, grunting something, leaving you momentarily bemused — before he presses in close again, mouth on yours, his hands hot even through the fabric of your shirt.

You want to claw your way into this man. He tilts you back — like he’s trying to claw into you, too and you break apart only long enough for the both of you to draw in what breath you need, gasping before you are kissing again, sloppily. Hungry for the need to be close.

Behind you, something begins to vibrate — and then Katsuki’s phone is bursting into life with that ridiculous old All Might cartoon theme, sharp and loud in the apartment. You pull away from your hero with a sharp breath, your disappointment tangible — Katsuki rips himself away from you with a hiss, grabbing for his phone angrily, as he answers, “What the fuck do you want?”

You can hear Kaminari clearly. “Yo! Kacchan! Love hearing from you too, dude. A few of us are meeting up tonight — ”

That’s all poor Kaminari gets a chance to say. Katsuki pulls away from his phone, looking at the screen incredulously — and then hangs up, letting it clatter against the counter.

Despite yourself, you laugh. “Did you have to be such an asshole?”

Katsuki grunts, one hand pushing back his hair, irritated. “They all fucking knew I don’t wanna hear shit unless it’s about the case.” His eyes cut to you — in the kitchen lights, they glimmer, and his mouth softens. “They know I don’t get much… free time, or whatever.” To spend with you, he means.

You’re close enough that you can reach out and touch him, easily, so you do; pressing your fingers into his chest before letting your palm slide against him. Underneath it, you can feel the steady comfort of his heartbeat. He’s here. He’s alive and he’s home safe.

Maybe Katsuki is thinking the same thing. In a lot of ways, he remains a constant mystery to you; he covers your hand with his, pressing it further against him. His hand is warm; he’s warm. You trace the outline of your fingers together and then follow the soft lines of him, his collar bone, his adam’s apple — the motion of his neck as he swallows. And then your eyes are meeting his.

This man, you think. It’s awe and it’s love and it’s disbelief that he’s here. That you’re here, with him.

You lean into him; he catches you in a hug, tight and warm, his arms thick around you. Nosing against him, you breathe in his scent, the salty sweetness, and then say, “I’ve missed you.”

“Yeah,” He grunts. You feel his lips in your hair, and then against the shell of your ear, his breath. “Missed you, too.” He headbutts you again, the heavy thunk of his forehead against the top of yours. You snuffle against him, annoyed.

“I have to make dinner,” You say, like you weren’t the one to bury yourself against him.

“Don’t care,” He says, a large hand slipping to the back of your neck — forcing you to look up at him, to meet his gaze, heated and soft. “Don’t want it,” He adds, his thumb stroking the soft skin behind your ear. “M’ — just wanna crawl back into bed with you and get some fuckin’ rest for once.”

“What rest,” You tease, but his hands tighten against you and you know what he means. It’s the same thing that drives you to nap, just to be close to him. To wait while he sleeps off a hard day, just so you’re there to welcome him back to the living. It’s just — it’s just the need to be together, in whatever way you can.

“I love you,” You say out-loud.

Katsuki headbutts you again, harder this time and you make a small squawk of protest — but he’s keeping his forehead against yours, trying to rub his nose against you, affectionate in the fickle way of a cat.

“Love you, too.” He says. You try and bite his cheek in retaliation — he swears, and tries to bite back and you are laughing, shaking like your sieve of rice — Katsuki holding you close, like he’s trying to osmosis your laughter through your skin.

[ur-jinji]

141+levi

ps. have a lovely night (: and dont put preasure on yourself. u are great!

thank you very much anon!!! have a lovely night yourself <3 ur greater :)

someone to spend time with

levi ackerman x gn!reader college au

summary: in which two lonely people share an unlikely friendship and some confused feelings for one another

word count: 2.2k

song: someone to spend time with // los retros

“i got you boba,” you announced as you approached a small, square table in the library where your classmate, levi, resided.

“what the fuck is that.” he asked.

“tea.”

“say less.”

you handed him the drink and sat down across from him, watching him slurp away. his attention quickly moved back to the book in front of him.

“how’d you find me?” levi questioned, his steel eyes glancing up at you for a quick second.

“you’re always here,” you replied, shrugging. “plus, i need help with our reading assignment.”

“you always need help.” he sighed and closed his book.

you and levi shared a shakespearean literature course and somewhat became friends by default because your assigned seats were directly next to each other. he was very reserved in class, but your boredom got the best of you, so you’d talk his ear off. he wasn’t very amused initially, as he took his schoolwork and class time very seriously, but he eventually warmed up to you. after forcing levi to help you once, you just kept coming back. you enjoyed his quiet company, and he appeared to be just as alone as you were. except his was by choice, you assumed.

“i just can’t keep up with all of macbeth’s drama,” you joked. “i figured i’d pay you with tea and my presence to help me for the millionth time.”

“yeah, your presence was starting to not be enough,” levi said monotonously, yet a small smile forming on his lips.

“you must like my company a little if my presence was enough of a payment before now,” you replied as you leant your elbow on the tea, resting your chin in your palm.

“i guess you’re okay,” he said simply. “what do you need help with.”

“listen, i tried to read act 2, but i was at a loss,” you stated. “oh, and i forgot my book.”

“you’re an idiot,” levi mumbled, shaking his head. “c’mere.” your eyes widened, but you complied, getting up from your seat across from him. as you made your way around the table, he grabbed the back of the chair next to his and pulled it out for you. you thanked him and took a seat, in which he replied with a simple “mm-hm.”

“take some notes. i don’t want you calling me tonight saying you’re confused,” he told you. you nodded and grabbed your pencil and notebook from across the table. levi started summarizing the text for you, and explaining the shakespearean language that constantly left you feeling perplexed. you silently listened, jotting down notes for a while before getting bored and doodling on the sides of the paper. he quickly took notice in your drawings. he glanced down, seeing an outline of an angry face, along with an arrow pointing to levi. his eyebrows furrowed when he saw the word “stinky” accompanying the face and arrow. he swiftly picked up his own pen and drew an x through your doodles, then scribbling “brat” down on the paper. you giggled and nudged his knee with yours.

“tch. you should be paying attention. we’re being quizzed on this,” levi commented, causing you to groan. you folded your arms and let your face fall forward into them.

“i didn’t even hear the professor say anything about a quiz,” you grumbled, your voice muffling against your skin.

“you didn’t hear because you’re always talking my ear off. she said there’ll be an essay, too,” he added, only making you groan once again. you relaxed slightly when you felt his hand pat the back of your head. his head pats were his quiet way of trying to comfort you. they always felt nice.

you suddenly perked up, his hand falling off your hair, in which he moved to rest it on the back of chair.

“okay, okay. let’s get serious,” you said, nodding towards his textbook.

“i’ve been serious,” levi replied blankly. he continued his little lecture, and you wondered if he realized his fingers had started toying with the ends of your hair. his touch sent chills down your spine. you started to take note in your mind of how he sometimes did those little things. those little gestures and touches. you liked them a little more than you should have. maybe you were just touch starved, or maybe they just felt good coming from him. levi wasn’t an easy guy to read, so you normally brushed those kinds of moments off. but as he droned on about some witchs’ prophecies, all you could think about was how the tips of his fingers were getting closer to the skin on your nape.

“you’re not taking notes,” levi stated the obvious, sighing and turning his head to you. “like i said, i don’t want you calling m-“

“what if i called you anyway?” you asked gingerly. his eyebrows furrowed, and the hand behind you disappeared. “like, what if I called you, but not to talk about macbeth?”

“what else is there to talk about.”

ouch. okay. now this is fucking awkward. should’ve just kept my mouth shut and let the kid keep playing with my stupid hair.

“hah, nevermind. i was just kidding. keep going,” you managed to get out, despite the feeling of an invisible hand around your neck to keep you from continuing to make an ass of yourself. you shifted your attention forward, your gaze falling down to your notebook.

“um, yeah. you can call me,” levi spoke, his normally uninterested tone sounding off. there was the tiniest hint of....desperation? tenseness? it went unnoticed by you.

“no, it’s okay. i don’t wanna bother you more than I have,” you replied. i need to get out of here. “i actually gotta go. i told my, um, roommate i’d help them with something.” you swiftly stood up, reaching out to gather your things, when levi’s hand was suddenly grasping your wrist.

“i...want you to call me,” he said, his volume low and his gaze shifting around, appearing to be quite nervous. you froze, and his grip on your wrist began to loosen before letting it drop. you nod slowly, pushing your head downwards to hide the embarassing blush creeping on your cheeks.

later that night, you were left alone, as your roommate was out with their friends or participating in a study group almost every night. you were sat at your desk, drumming a pencil and fidgeting around nervously, wondering if you should call levi. the phone works two ways, and you always seemed to be the one making the effort to hang out or talk to him.

what if he thinks i’m desperate?

you sighed and swallowed your pride. you pulled out the headphones from your ears that were playing loud music and found yourself staring at his contact in your phone.

knock knock. knock.

your head snapped in the direction of the noise coming from outside your door.

“hey, brat. let me in.”

you froze, your mouth dropping. you sat there for a few moments, debating whether or not you should pretend you went to bed.

knock. knock.

you took a deep breath and stood, making your way to the door and cracking it open. you saw levi with his usual stoic expression. before you could even say a word, he raised his hand, pushing the door open and walking past you. he stopped in the middle of the room, his gray eyes scanning the area.

“i’m assuming this is your side,” levi said simply, pointing to your side of the room. you felt embarrassed when you realized your bed was unmade and a plushy was propped up against your pillow.

“hah. uh, yeah,” you replied. the nerves in your voice and laugh were evident. you crept to your desk, wanting to hide anymore embarrassing evidence. you quickly found a cringey picture frame of you and a friend from your hometown, your hand grasping it and gently placing it facedown.

“what brings you to my dorm?” you wondered, taking a seat in the desk chair to hide your shaking legs. unfortunately for you, your shifty actions only grabbed his attention, and your question went ignored. levi strolled to your desk and pressed his hand on the wooden top, leaning nonchalantly. he reached out for the picture frame you were desperate to hide, and picked it up. you looked up at him as he observed it with a small smirk.

“tch. cute,” he commented before propping the frame back on the desk. you hurriedly slammed it facedown again, mumbling a sheepish ‘thanks.’ you continued to stare up at him as his eyes looked over your desk. his attention turned to you, his eyes falling onto your pink-tinted features.

“want some tea?” you offered.

some time later, you and levi found yourselves lounging on opposite sides of your bed, both sitting with legs criss crossed. he held a large tea cup, sipping quietly at his second drink as you let him in on some gossip about your roommate’s friend’s cousin. you don’t even know how you got to this point, but after offering him a drink and busying yourself, your nerves simmered. it felt a lot more comfortable after that.

“and then they said that she said that he got caught sexting not one, not two... but twelve other girls. then his girlfriend tried to burn his house down. and now she’s in prison for attempted arson,” you finished. levi lowered his cup after taking a long sip, and continued to stare with a blank expression. but despite his bored appearance, he was rather invested in this story.

“that’s rough,” he commented.

“i know right?” you replied as you picked up your phone. you clicked to see the time. “jeez, it’s already midnight.”

“tch, is that your way of kicking me out?” levi asked, smiling ever so lightly.

“unfortunately, yeah. i have an 8am class tomorrow,” you said, putting a little pout on your lip. “we should do this again, though. feels nice to just hang out with someone.”

“isn’t that what we’ve been doing in the library?” he questioned.

“i don’t count me making you help me with shakespeare as hanging out,” you explained.

“that’s fair.” he shrugged.

“also, this is the first time you initiated being around me,” you boasted, feeling pretty satisfied with yourself. “that means you think i’m fun.”

“i never said that.”

“well, you being here says otherwise. sooo...”

“whatever, brat.”

levi stood from his spot on the end of your bed, handing you his empty cup. you stood as well, following him to the door.

“i guess you’re okay,” he offered. “this was okay.”

“that translates to, omg y/n is the best, they’re sooo much fun,” you teased, nudging your elbow against his. “anyways, i guess i’ll see you in class on wednesday.”

“i guess you will,” he replied plainly, raising his hand to touch a strand of your hair, putting you in a state of shock. your mouth gaped slightly as you studied him curiously. after a few moments of silence, levi abruptly started leaning forward, your eyes widening. before you could react, his lips were against yours.

is this actually happening? you wondered. oh, my god it’s actually happening. this is real.

it took you no time to respond to the kiss, your eyes quickly fluttering shut. you hadnt been kissed a long time, and you remembered first kisses always being a little awkward as you both had to adjust to the way the other’s lips moved. but there was no awkwardness. there was no needing to adjust; it was perfect.

his movements were surprisingly fast and needy, his hands moving to hold your jaw as both of your quiet, desperate noises were swallowed. your hands came up to grip his neck, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss. you could feel little tingles everywhere he touched you, and a knot starting to form low in your stomach. you felt his tongue slip into your mouth as he moved his hands down to hold your waist, arching your back slightly. levi started to redirect you, pushing your back against the door, causing a loud thud against the wood.

“y/n? what was that?” a voice from the other side of the door called. your eyes flew open, seeing his steel eyes already looking back at you.

“shit!” you hissed. “my roommate.” you pulled your face away and took a deep breath, your hands still holding levi’s neck, and his still gripping your waist. you gazed at him for a moment, admiring his features. you hurriedly leaned in again, giving him one final, quick kiss.

“sorry! hold on!” you finally responded to your roommate as they started turning the doorknob. the two of you let one another go, quietly stepping away from the door that started to open.

“you won’t believe the night i-“ your roommate started, but freezing once they saw levi. their mouth dropped open and they glanced at you, shocked.

“sorry, he was just leaving,” you said, rushing to push levi through the open door. you followed him out, closing the door behind you. you sighed loudly.

“i’m sorry about that,” you told him quietly. he shrugged and slid his hands into his pockets. “i knew you liked me.”

“you’re okay,” levi replied, his eyes holding a warmth you had never seen from him before. “i’ll see you on wednesday.”

“yeah, yeah, see you wednesday,” you said, grinning as he turned around, making his way down the hallway.

[stickyy]

Can I have a gn reader x Aizawa? Maybe a college AU where Aizawa doesn't know how to handle his crush because he was awkward when he was young and ended up a bully who was handsy. Thank you!

EEEE this is my first ask so i hope you like it anon! :D thanks so much for requesting!

DISCLAIMER: i do not condone or encourage any of the behavior outlined in the following text. this is a work of fiction, and should be treated as such. :)

wordcount: 2299

warnings: dubcon, verbal abuse, slight dumbification, forced oral sex, brief mentions of gagging/vomit (doesn’t actually happen), aizawa is an law student asshole, quirkless!AU, ooc? more likely than u think

notes: im not like a writer so when i put this in word count and saw it was 2k words i gasped-

MIDTERM

Without a doubt, Aizawa’s the smartest student in your Civil Procedure lecture. You admire him; you’re both first years, but he already has an incredible work ethic and results to show for it. He works two part-time jobs to help pay for school (alongside his impressive scholarship), studies into the late hours of the night (mostly due to his being kept awake very loud roommate), and, despite a bad habit of regularly showing up to your 8 am class slightly hungover, still manages to produce the top marks in the class. 

You’re envious of him, because you’re the exact opposite. Your tuition is paid in full by your parents, you have a wonderfully quiet apartment all to yourself, and you study as best you know how, only to practically fail every assignment. You wish you could be surprised, but the material is a dreadfully bland concoction of boring procedure and esoteric theory that you rarely get further than three or four pages into a chapter. You want to like law, you really do, but there’s something about the intricacies of drafting lawsuits that goes in one ear and out the other. It’s no surprise that you sought out Aizawa’s help, desperate to at least pass the class with a decent grade. 

You wish you hadn’t. 

You don’t understand what you do that bothers him so deeply, but something about you coaxes cruelty from somewhere dark inside of him. You always scurry towards the back of the lecture hall to grab a seat next to him, doing your best to be quiet and unassuming, but he shoots you a venomous glare or a soft flurry of harsh words. And you get it, to an extent- some days you walk into class chattering a little too loudly on the phone, and on others you loudly shuffle around in your book bag to try finding the notes that you attempted to start for this lecture (if you even brought them that day). You know it’s annoying, but you also know you don’t deserve the downright verbal abuse he throws at you for it.

“It’s hard to take notes if you forget your textbook. Try being prepared for once,” he’ll sigh as he slides his textbook to you. Like a good student, he took notes for lecture the night before, but it still took some convincing for him to spare you his textbook.

“Do you ever shut up?” He’ll interrupt you as you babble about your difficulties understanding the most recent lecture. You want to retort, tell him off for being rude, but the words die in your throat; he radiates an annoying apathy that makes you doubt the efficacy of anything you say to him.

“You wouldn’t fail every assignment if you actually studied. Or maybe, you’re actually just stupid?” He’ll quip as you clutch your paper, a red ‘47’ scrawled in the upper corner of the page littered with your professor's critiques and question marks. By contrast, Aizawa’s paper is pristine, donning a singular red mark of ‘98, nice work!’.

With a well placed glare and the sour baritone of his voice, laced with exhaustion, it’s always enough to make your stomach drop from shame and embarrassment. Under normal circumstances, you’d never allow anyone to speak to you that way, but your grade was a dire situation, and with the midterm upcoming, you forcefully swallow your pride and ask him for his help.

You have to beg, but Aizawa agrees to tutor you the day before the midterm. This grade is a make or break for the class- if you do poorly on this exam, you’ll have to drop the lecture to salvage your gpa, putting you half a semester behind your peers. It’s motivation enough to deal with his poor attitude, and the two of you end up reviewing in an empty studying room on the top floor of the library. You began the session alert and determined to catch up, but studying with him shows you just how far behind you are. The textbook sounds like foreign poetry coming from his mouth; Aizawa is nothing short of eloquent when explaining the complexities of something as boring as filing lawsuits, and you spend most of the two hours spent just zoning out, completely unable to focus.

“You’re just wasting my time at this point.” The break in his cadence snaps you out of your trance, unfocused eyes meeting his tired ones, slightly lidded in annoyance, “Are you even trying to remember the material? Or are you just expecting me to spoon-feed it to you?”

Your throat catches, forcing you to swallow a lump as you attempt to ignore his words. 

“I am trying! I just don’t understand why there are two approaches, is all,” You whine, flipping back through your sparse notes to find the section that contained the explanation. 

“I went over that almost 3 chapters ago. If you were paying attention, you would’ve stopped me by now. It’s hard to believe that you even got into this school, if this is how you studied in high school. Did your daddy pull some strings with his buddies in admissions?”

Your eyes narrow, searching harder for the correct section in your notes. That’s a pretty low blow, and even if he’s not completely wrong, it still stings. You now know for a fact you didn’t even read this part of the text, but you keep your eyes trained on the page. At this point, you’d do anything to avoid looking at Aizawa, lest you begin to cry.

“Don’t be an asshole,” is all you can muster, voice shaking with unshed tears, “Would it kill you to be a little nicer? It’s hard to focus when all you do is insult me.”

“It’s hard to focus?” He repeats, his tone a sickly sweet mockery of yours. “Sweetheart, I don’t think that’s my fault. You’re a lot dumber than you think, if you even think at all. The midterm is tomorrow, and we’re just now getting into chapter five. Don’t get mad at me for actually trying to study; if I was holding your hand through it all, we’d still be on chapter one.”

Your vision blurs and a single tear hits the lined paper of your notes, causing the ink to blur as the drop absorbs into the page. You clench your jaw and take a breath before standing up, opening your backpack to put you things away. You didn’t have to take this abuse, you could study on your own. Even if you did poorly, you’d have some of your dignity left.

“It’s pretty rude to just walk out on someone trying to help you,” Aizawa says after a moment, closing his notes shut. “Not only do you give me a headache every single morning, but I try to tutor you and you want to leave without even thanking me? I’m busy, you know? I take time that I don’t have to spare just help your sorry ass out, for free, and you’re not even capable of learning anything from it.”

You sling your bag over your shoulder and move to leave, but you find yourself face to face with Aizawa, his tall frame blocking the door, arms crossed over his chest, and a thoroughly disgusted expression plastered on his features. 

“I should charge you a fee, just for completely wasting an afternoon. Absolutely ridiculous,” His tone is a juxtaposition to his demeanor; he sounds more amused than annoyed, a jeer underlying the words. It makes you feel sick, and you’re suddenly grossly aware of the fact that you're alone with him, the only method of escape blocked. It feels dangerous, and you want nothing more than to be at home, alone and safe.

“H-how much?” You stutter meekly, eager to appease him. “I don’t really have any cash on me but if you have Venmo-”

“That’s not quite what I had in mind,” Your heart starts to jackhammer against your ribcage and panic sets in. You’re frozen in place, unwilling to ask him to elaborate. You may not be very bright, but you have a good idea of what he’s going to ask for, and you can think of a million things you’d rather do instead.

“I know your pretty little skull is practically an echo chamber, so listen closely, okay? We both know that no matter how hard you try, you won’t be ready for the exam by the end of tonight, and I have to work in an hour and a half. So, if you behave and do what I ask you, I’ll let you copy my exam answers tomorrow. Understand?”

You’re silent, paralyzed by fear. A part of you wants to run, desperately, but your mind drifts to the midterm. You know that without any help, you’ll surely fail.

That’s how you end up on your knees in front of him, tears finally streaming down your face from choking on his thick cock. 

“That’s it,” he groans breathlessly, eyes fluttering shut as his head presses back against the door, “I knew you were good for something. I bet this is how you convinced your other teachers to give you a passing grade, huh? A few cocks down your throat-fuck, to save your gpa, I wouldn’t put it past you, dumb slut.”

You hate this- hate being reduced to just a mouth for him to fuck. You hate how he sneers down at you, his eyes alight with sadistic pleasure. You especially hate the treacherous way your spine tingles and heat pools low in your stomach at his amused growls and degrading remarks. He’s just as cruel with the way he fucks into your mouth, disregarding your comfort entirely, hand in your hair roughly guiding your head over his length. He’s almost painfully thick, stretching your lips wide, tickling the recesses of your throat in a grotesque way. You try to wiggle away slightly, just to take a small breath; you’re beginning to feel dangerously lightheaded. You begin to pull your head away but he thrusts his hips upward, holding your head down and  forcing your lips to wrap around the base of his cock.

“S’okay, baby, just relax that empty little head of yours, no need to breathe right now,” he sighs, watching you struggle against him with a smirk, watching the fear bloom in your chest and your mind buzz with the lack of oxygen. Your thrashing shifts his cock in just the right way and you violently gag, eyes widening with the painful sensation. You’re almost convinced he’s going to let you pass out, right before he yanks you off of him. You cough violently, gagging a few more times, drool spilling out of your mouth.

“Throw up on me and a failing grade will be the least of your problems,” he growls, and the threat is a sobering reminder of how fucked up this is. You meet his expectant gaze, and reluctantly return to the task at hand. You can hold out just a little longer, you tell yourself; his hips are beginning to move on their own accord and you know he won’t last much longer. All you have to do is hang on and it will all be over soon.

You know that he’s just a bully, that you’re just doing what you have to do in order to pass this class, that you’re worth more than your grades, that you aren’t stupid- but the dark part of your mind questions if he’s right. Maybe you do belong on your knees, because what do you know? Maybe you are just a dumb slut; there’s no need to study if the only thing you’re good for is swallowing.

The shameful thought forces a new torrent of tears to pour from your eyes, gagging once more on both your tears and his cock, and the look of pure despair on your face pushes him over the edge. Aizawa yanks your head from his cock with a curse and you flinch as his hot cum hits your face. There’s a lot of it, the viscous seed slowly dripping down your face. The sensation is downright disgusting. You feel dirty and used, your throat sore, knees burning, lips swollen from his brutal assault. He presses the tip of his cock on your cheek, smearing his load all over your skin with a cruel laugh.

Through your panting, you keep your eyes closed for a little bit, hoping that maybe this is an awful nightmare and you’ll wake up in your dorm, with an extra day to study and a little more hope in your heart. 

The sound of a camera shutter rips you from your fantasy, opening your eyes to see Aizawa grinning at his phone. You’re too shocked to say anything, only staring at him incredulously from your position on the floor in front of him.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, you know?” He hums as he tidies himself up and grabs his bag. “So photogenic, I’ll be able to get off to this for weeks. Who knows what good you’d be if you were dumb and ugly.”

You didn’t notice that you had stopped crying, but the fresh tears and sound of your own sobs call your attention to fact.

“Try and clean up before you leave, alright? I know you’re a little too stupid to remember, but I don’t think it’d be a good look for you to walk around covered in cum.”

The door clicks closed, and through your sobs you look around at the room, only to notice that there aren’t any tissues left laying around. You hate him, you hate him, you hate him.

(But at least you get an A- on your midterm.)

[ssickabit]

Hyunjin corrupting his cute gf who is usually bratty (also I love ur writing, and how you write in third person)

aaaaa thank you sm 🥺 im more comfortable using 3rd person pov in case you want to know :D

this contains fluff and also, angst, i hope you don’t mind that haha. enjoy!

[9.47 pm]

“where were you?”

Hyunjin’s voice was hoarse, making her stopped in the place. she blinked for times, then dropped her bag to the couch. “uh, i was working on my lastest project at town’s library.”

he chuckled, more likely to be mocking one. his expression now changed to the serious one. “i told you i will be home at 6 right?”

she let out a ‘tsk’. “i know.”

“why don’t you go home early?”

“i told you i was working on my project okay,” she replies with a higher tone. she huffed as she took off her coat. “why are you like this to be honest.”

Hyunjin watched her ignoring him, once again.

sure, he bought her alot of expensive things; sure, he brought her to the fanciest restaurants and parties; sure, he treated her like a queen but sometimes her attitude wasn’t the best. not to mention how their time management is so fucking bad, so they barely meet each other in daily.

he really to let out his frustration at work, but being home made it worse.

he almost throw his phone at the table, receiving the “what the fuck is wrong with you?” from her.

he turned his body to her, who’s opening her bag to let out some things.

“what the fuck is wrong with me?” he asked, “should’ve asked your fucking self about it.”

“you could have just told me what the fuck is wrong rather then being difficult like this hwang hyunjin,” she replied.

he let out the “i can’t believe you said that to me” face. he cocked one eyebrow then shouted. “see? who the fuck should’ve shut their mouth here? you. now continue whatever you were doing rather than being so fucking ignorant like this, you smart-mouthed slut.”

the silence creeped between them after Hyunjin went to their shared room. she sighed, trying not to mad and cry at the same time. this project is more important then being in a fight with a person like Hyunjin—she know it right.

she woke up when something poked behind her.

Hyunjin’s arm accidentally hugged her from his side. she tried to so hard to turn herself without waking him up.

fuck, she thought, his morning boner.

not like it’s something abnormal, but it’s just too distracting for her. she sighed as she got up from the bed, trying to make something to warm her body. last night was the first fight that they had in such a long time of their relationship and she felt bad about it. she knew she shouldn’t have been acting like that.

in the other place, Hyunjin woke up feeling needy.

he groaned, then went to the kitchen. he hugged her from behind, placed his face in the crook of her neck, then kissing it.

it was shocking for her, despite the fighting that they did last night.

“you didn’t leave?” she asked.

“nope,” he sighed, “studio was frustrating. i decided to take a day off.”

she nodded. she handed him the morning tea.

“what are you gonna do?” he asked.

“uh, take a shower?”

he smirked.

just as she took off every piece of her clothes and went it to the shower, he joined. he already naked—not like it’s their first time seeing each other naked. he was behind her as the water fell down, making their bodies wet. she loves it when Hyunjin slick back his blond hair with his fingers, and how he closed his eyes and lifted his chin as he trying to make the water run down his face.

he pulled her closer to him, hand in her waist.

“stop looking at my dick,” he said.

he caught her red-handed. their heights differences are so obvious as he looked down to her. “i-i’m sorry-“

“have you ever sucked a dick before?”

she looked up and stare into his eyes. “n-no,” she shook her head.

he licked his bottom lip. “wanna try with mine?”

sex wasn’t their regular thing because of his hectic schedule. he’d fuck her right everywhere he at but he didn’t do it anyway.

he took her virginity while ago.

and the ‘we both got so wasted, wanna have sex?’

“like, right here?”

“isn’t it obvious?”

she went on her knees and looked up to him with doubts. his cock is so beautiful, she thought. “it’s not gonna suck itself,” he answered all of her questionable gaze that she threw at him earlier. “come on, use you hand, tongue and mouth.”

she grabbed his cock then jerk it slowly. she began lick his tip. as their gaze met each other, she went bold. she kissed it, teasing the tip that went so angry, begging her to put it in her mouth. the way she roll her tongue and lips over it, making him stuck in this euphoric feelings. “look at you,” he chuckled, his breathing was heavy, “sucking my dick like a porn-star.”

“shit, shit, shit—“ he panted as she slid his length into her mouth. he grabbed a fistful of her hair with his hand, guiding her. “u-uh, less teeth then it’s okay,” he told her. she hummed, the vibration sending chills into his body. he growled as she kept doing what she have been doing. the way her fingers, her tongue and her lips teasing him; feels like he’s going to the cloud nine.

she bobbed her head faster as the time pass by. “h-hey,” he interrupted as he felt everything is going too far.

the mix of the drool and his pre-cum making her looks so pretty right now. “got up,” he said.

“w-why?” she asked.

“i don’t want to cum in your pretty mouth yet,” he answered as he helped her to got up. “can i fill you up instead?”

she nodded quickly. he chuckled then kissed her, trying to taste her mouth who just sucked his cock while ago. after they pulled out, she began to turn around, her face facing the wall.

“wait, what are you doing?”

“i thought-i thought you gonna take me from behind,” she softly answered.

“baby, no,” he shook his head, “i want you to look at me as i fuck you. okay?”

she obeyed. before she can proceed anything that happen, he slipped two of his fingers into her slit, feeling the wetness at the first second. her mouth opened—she was silent, but her eyes screw shut as she pumped his fingers into her. “are you wet just from sucking me?” he asked.

“y-yes,” is all that she can answer.

he smirked then pulled his finger out. the emptiness inside her making her whined. “you’re lucky that im gonna fuck you hard against this wall, how does it sound?” he whispered into her ear. she grabbed his hand, then began sucking onto his fingers. he can feel the arousal being sent into his cock, once again.

he grabbed his cock then teasing her with his tip. she whined into his ear, trying to make him fill her up quickly. “can’t wait for me to fill your tight pussy with my cock, darling?” he asked. he let out a low groan as he slid his length in. he gave her seconds to adjust herself. she can feel his cock throbbing inside her, making her walls clenched as the response. he looked down and hissed as he saw how her hole swallowed his cock perfectly.

he lifted one of her with his hand, keeping it up like that so he can have better access to her pussy. “hyunjin,” she mewled as he began to pound into her without any warning.

“your pussy feels so good around me baby,” he panted, “fuck, what a dirty slut you are.”

the sound of skin slapping as the glass around fogged around them is the only sound they can hear beside the choked moans that passed from their lips. “c-can i cum hyunjin?”

“beg for it,” he said.

“please? i-i can’t take it anymore—“ he cut her off as his thrust became deeper and harder.

“come on, i know you’re better than this,” he replied, with a loud groan following his voice. she cried to the overwhelming feelings that he made only for her. she dig her nails into his back, teeth grazing over his shoulder and neck. “look at me,” he demanded. “look-fuck, look at me as you cum.”

and she did even it was hard for her to open her eyes. he kissed her roughly to suppress her from crying. her walls clenched around him—the euphoria sent him over the edge. he pulled out, then jerked himself. she watched how he shot his seed into her stomach, moaning loudly.

he kissed her then. it was soft, not rushed, just lips collided to each other.

her memory played how he kissed her in the middle of sex. things Hyunjin would never do, but he did it. she knew he is the type of finish everything fast. but the way he kissed her, reminded her that she is his.

Hyunjin is afraid to admit that he is in love with the girl in front of him. he kissed her cheeks before they continue the shower session that was paused while ago. he pulled her closer to his figure, embracing every single inch of her. she rested her head on his chest as the water ran down their bodies.

“you know i didn’t mean it last night,” he said, breaking the silence between them.

she hummed in response.

“you know that i love you right?”

she looked up to him. “d-do you want a round two?”

“no!” he laughed to her innocence, “god, no. i just wanted to say that, okay? also, i’m sorry for last night.”

she wanted to disappear—she just can’t handle this lovely moment of them. she can hear the sincerity in his voice. she kept looking down to her feet,  making Hyunjin lifted her chin with his hand. “hey, what’s wrong?”

she was crying. he was in shock for a second. he hugged her seconds after. “hey...” he whispered.

“i-i love you too, Hyunjin,” she said through her tears, “i love you too much, and it hurts sometimes.”

in this moment he knew he fucked up. “i miss you, but sometimes i don’t know how to say it because you’re always busy with your works...”

he listened. he felt like his heart shattered in pieces now. “that doesn’t mean i don’t like it—i support you no matter what, because it’s your dream. it’s your passion, and i’m so proud of you.”

“hey,” he cleaned his throat, “i’m sorry, okay? i hope you know that i just don’t want to lose you. i’m sorry that sometimes this is difficult for us, but i’m so grateful that we can make it this far.”

she tried to calm her breath, as he caressed her back slowly. “i’m sorry sometimes i’m not a good girlfriend for you.”

“no, you’re not. you’re perfect for me.”

she didn’t let go of him. and she wouldn’t. Hyunjin knows sometimes they’re toxic for each other, but she is the one that’s on his mind, every time. Hyunjin might be the pop star everyone knows, but when he is with her, he knows he is just an ordinary human and he hope she knows that he is thankful to have her as his safe place.

“i love you,” he whispered one again. “and i always be.”

[yamaoops]

ALERT (💌) : ONE (1) NEW ORDER: 

order details : 

— from : zarah <3 

— about :  koutarou bokuto

— order : heart macarons filled with strawberries and cream

 thank you for requesting, your order is being processed now!

hello!! may i please order one heart macarons filled with strawberries and cream? my character choice is bokuto! and my personality i’m an introvert who likes reading books and playing video games. i think im very observant as well, and like to people watch haha! also i value my friends sm and i’d do anything for them! my favorite season is fall! 🍂

ps. your event is so nice i am excited for u!!! 🤩

— @bokutosworld​

a/n: thank you so much my love that’s so sweet of you!! i wanted to write about bokuto so thank you for requesting my darling! please do come and order again <33

(confession): KOUTAROU BOKUTO  —— “WE’LL DO WHATEVER YOU WANT TO DO”

now you and bokuto have been good friends throughout high school

(i mean, i feel like he’s the kind of person that knows something about everyone and is just really lovely and funny- you can’t dislike him??)

but of course, he trains a lot and you, being an incredibly good friend, always help him out

like reminding him to stay hydrated and eat early- because you’re just as lovely as he is!!

this tends to make bokuto feel a bit guilty- you’re doing so much to support him but he feels like he’s not doing what you

your phone wakes you up. you groan aloud, rub your eyes and turn around, blindly trying to grab at your phone, your hands pinched like the claws of a crab. you glance around- surely it’s too early for anyone to be calling

“y/N!”

you wince at how loud the voice is, turning the call volume down as you yawn, “kou..?” you ask sleepily, “it’s too early... is something wrong?”

“are you free later today?”

“if i get some sleep, maybe..”

“oh... well i’ll come ‘round to yours then! bye bye!”

you smile at how excited the boy sounds despite the early hour. you mumble a soft “bye...” back to him as you lie down and fall back into the arms of slumber.

morning arrives quickly, as they do when you sleep well and you wake up to a series of “good morning!!” texts from bokuto, all of which are adorned with a high saturation of colourful emojis- some of which you hadn’t even realised exists. you pull yourself from under the covers and shiver into a dressing room before going

by the time you’re downstairs, bokuto is in the kitchen, clearly comfortable, eating dry cereal from a wall whilst he talks to your mum. you raise an eyebrow, slightly amused at how comfy he seems to be. you note his clothes, “don’t you have practice later today?”

he shushes you softly, “akaashi knows- it’s going to be fine, we all deserve a break.”

you swallow a mouthful of toast before you glance at him, “i don’t want you to skip practice for me-”

“well, i can’t go to a cancelled practice, can i?” he winks, “the whole team deserve a break. and you deserve not doing stuff to me.”

“kou- i don’t mind helping-

“today we’re going to do whatever you want to do!”

and you do. the two of you go to town and recreate the flamboyant posters stuck onto the windows of ice cream parlours and flyers stuck on the doors of convenience stores. you buy lunch together and go to the library before returning back

“i should have asked kenma for some gaming tips.” bokuto groans as he lies down after you claim yet another victory

“oh please don’t- that boy is ruthless when it comes to games. i want to be able to beat you at something.” you giggle as he gives you a confused 

“you’re better than me at most things.”

“that’s... debatable.”

“y/n~” bokuto whines as he sits up again, “you’re good at so many things- you’re clever, kind, talented, funny as well as beautiful-”

bokuto clearly tenses when he realises what he just said. you glance at him in shock yourself, glancing down at your controller to avoid his gaze. he reaches hesitantly for your hand.

“i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable-”

“no! no, kou... i’m just surprised.”

the two of you are silent for some time.”

“i do feel the same kou...” you respond quietly, “i just... thought that... that it’d be a burden- i didn’t want to distract 

“yes but y/n i like you.” bokuto responds breathlessly, cheeks red in response, “you would never be a burden.”

you give him a small smile as he opens his arms for you. you laugh and enter his embrace as he holds you close. you look up at him after some time. he leans down to kiss you softly. your arms wrap around his neck as he pulls you close.

“believe me y/n- you will never be a burden to me.” he whispers as he pulls you close again.

thank you for ordering lovie!! if you enjoyed ordering, please do consider reblogging as it would really help me!!

sending hugs, kisses and valentine’s wishes,

—  liya

( p.s. check out the event here )

[unfortunatelysirius]

I love you, but I’m scared // Remus Lupin  [Marauders Era]

「 ❁ 」PROMPT 「 ❁ 」

Y/N finds herself feeling non-platonic things for long-time best friend Remus. At risk of losing six and a half years of friendship, what can she do?

「 ❁ 」AUTHOR’S NOTE 「 ❁ 」

BET YOU THOUGHT I WAS GONNA DISAPPEAR OFF THE GLOBE FOR THE NEXT THREE MONTHS HAHAHAHA BITCH U THOUGHT, in serious news idk how I feel about this so uhhhh feedback???? also this was like 2650 words idk why I wrote so much. hope it isn't trash!!!! :D fill the inbox with some love (and some requests wink wink) and have a happy weekend!!!

        It was past curfew at Hogwarts castle, the moon twinkling brightly in the sky outside, and to most students, it was time to snooze the night away. In the Gryffindor common room, all but two had vacated, retreating to their dorms for much needed relief. Y/N L/N and Remus Lupin had other priorities in mind.

Y/N was rewriting her notes for Arithmancy when she heard Remus clear his throat. He was against the other end of the sofa with his legs tucked into his chest, his Potions textbook acting as a surface for his parchment. Y/N was similarly using a journal. They’d been in the common room for hours, once surrounded by their friends before they decided to hit the sheets instead of their books. After their friends left, the two bookworms descended into silence. It’d been a while since either of them tried chatting through their overload of N.E.W.T.’s prep. Y/N peeked up, losing momentum, at his soft garble.

Remus’s eyes immediately went down to his legs when she looked over, so she looked down, too. His parchment was completely covered in perfect print with barely an inch left to write. “I need to borrow some parchment,” he said sheepishly.

Y/N’s face flushed for reasons beyond her, and she wordlessly fished around in her bag for some spare parchment. She felt less frazzled when she was able to locate a piece and hand it over to Remus.

“Thanks,” Remus said, his fingers brushing over hers without meaning to. Y/N felt sparks but she had no intention of speaking them into existence. 

They didn’t speak for a time after that. Remus scribbled furiously, managing to have pretty penmanship through his rush, and Y/N took her time rewriting and slimming down her notes. They would glance at each other on occasion, sometimes connecting without meaning to (and consequentially Y/N would feel quite embarrassed), and they’d cough or sneeze or swallow or smile out of the blue. It went on. Only when the common room clock tolled at 3 did the pair acknowledge they needed rest; even if tomorrow were Sunday, neither of them enjoyed sleeping in.

Remus gave Y/N a tentative smile. “I got a lot done,” he told her, affirming what she felt for herself. Her smile back was mega-watt. Truly she felt better than she had before he’d asked her to study with him. She thought her feelings would get in the way and make her nervous being around him for so long—alone, stuffy and uncomfortably silent, all he had for company—but surprisingly the opposite happened. It was like any other time they hung out.

As friends.

“Me too,” Y/N agreed. She reached out and gave him a side hug before she could chicken out. The baffled look on his face, mixed with something she couldn’t be certain about, made her regret it—but whatever. It was 3 am and he wouldn’t remember it in the morning. I’ll remember it. “Goodnight, Remus.”

        “Night, love,” Remus said sleepily, rubbing the crust from his eyes.

        The two of them went up their respective staircases, looking back at the same time and waving a final farewell. Y/N felt like a little girl as she face-planted her comforter and snuggled into the pillow, briefly thinking about the pet name Remus gave her. He used it sparingly, usually when exhausted, and it seemed tonight was one of those nights.

        Thinking about her best friend that way wasn’t right. He was her best friend. She met him before she met the Marauders, even before she became good friends with her dormmates. They’d been friends for so long that anything other than their routine would disrupt everything. Y/N had felt something other than platonic love for Remus since the summer of this year after he sent her a letter about his time at home. It wasn’t something small, either. She couldn’t fathom how she went from thinking it was gross when he drank pumpkin juice around her to watching his throat as he guzzled the atrocious liquid down. How—why—did she suddenly like him so much she couldn’t breathe around him? Why did things feel stilted?

        Did he know?

        She didn’t want to feel like this about him. He was her best friend, all their other friends were friends with each other, things were great the way they were and something new just wasn’t going to end well. Platonic love—maybe she was confusing it for the love she read about in her books. Maybe that’s all this was. Yeah.

        She was overreacting.

        Y/N didn’t fall asleep until it was well past what time it was when she stumbled back to her dorm, and by then the sun was coming up.

        She wasn’t one to sleep in but that morning she made an unconscious exception.

-

        Things may not have felt stilted when they hung out, but after they said their goodnights and went to bed, things changed. For Y/N, at least. She couldn’t be in the same room as Remus without feeling anxious beyond reason. She didn’t think she was obvious about it to their friends—maybe to the ever-observant Lily, but the Marauders had to be clueless, and Marlene and Alice were too busy talking about coursework. Remus wasn’t so oblivious. Y/N was constantly fleeing from conversations with excuses that never made much sense, and she was fumbling with what to say and how to act around him. She couldn’t ignore how her heart beat a little faster around him. Her entire body felt sweaty when he had his attention on her. She felt light, heavy, dead, and alive, at different ranges and nocks; she was sure it showed.

       Of course it showed. Remus was bewildered, and honestly a little hurt, as Y/N’s nerves got the best of her. He didn’t try hiding how he felt and he didn't shy away from trying to rekindle things, completely oblivious to what he did. Y/N felt cruel and wanted to hate herself for what she was doing. Remus didn’t deserve this; he deserved a better. Their communication issues felt like years-old radio silence when really the days of Y/N’s strange behavior were slow like a boat against the tide. 

    Their friendship had never been out there. They weren’t like James and Sirius were with each other, even from the beginning, so tiptoeing around each other and being quiet was just a part of them. They were introverted at heart. Remus always preferred being alone with Y/N so they could engage and relax without their loud and rowdy friends joining, Y/N reciprocating his energy wholeheartedly. But somehow along the way of discovering her feelings, Y/N found herself feeling afraid. That fear translated to isolation, her flee instinct on a victory roll as it repeatedly conquered “fight.” The tiptoeing became profuse excuses, blatant footsteps, Y/N on a never-ending treadmill that just kept getting faster.

        She didn’t want to admit to anything, especially if it meant losing Remus. Yet her heart also hated being away from him, hated doing things with anyone besides Remus, hated running away when all she wanted to do was have his company. Why was she so pathetic?

       Her friends were obviously more observant than she thought, and they weren’t shying from asking questions, and eventually Y/N started running from them too.

      She didn’t know how to get what she wanted without breaking her heart along the way. 

         She hid and she ran and she avoided. A cycle that inevitably caught up with her. 

       Sirius, the friend closest to her aside from Remus, met her during first-year Potions and hadn’t stopped pestering her since. He wasn’t the most sensitive bloke and feelings weren’t a subject matter you went to him with. If you needed him to threaten or prank a bully, fine. If you wanted a dueling partner for the big Defense Against the Dark Arts practical, sold. If you were being obvious about running away from his best friend… feelings were probably involved, so he knew he wasn’t the right man for the job, but he’d have something to say regardless. He always knew what to do, even if it would backfire tremendously.

        Y/N was in her usual library nook reading an old fairy tale book, having been there for two and a half hours after Remus tried asking her to study with him, and she was just getting to the good part when—

        Sirius popped his shaggy head around a bookcase, a loud, “Hullo,” echoing in the corner, scaring Y/N so badly that her book went flying feet away.

        He merely glanced at the book (probably trying to see the title) before his entire body appeared from around the shelf. “Ah, so here’s where you’ve been running off to, aye?” He raised his eyebrows in a “Huh?” gesture. “Remus said you might be here.”

        Y/N winced, remembering that Remus knew all about her favorite spots around the castle. He must have seriously thought she had something against him if he was abiding her avoidance by doing some of his own.

        “I’m reading,” Y/N said weakly, grimacing when Sirius picked up her book and flipped through the pages. “Wasreading.”

        “You’ve been avoiding Remus for three days,” Sirius said pointedly, tossing her the book. Beauty and the Beast. How fitting. “He’s right glum about it. Bet he’s half mad wondering what he did to make you cross with him, too. So what was it?”

        Y/N felt like a fool thinking she was being subtle with anyone. if she didn’t catch it from her friends’ interrogations, she caught onto their suspicions now. Sirius wasn’t an idiot; Remus wasn’t either. Y/N’s actions weren’t normal, contrary to what her inner reassurances told her over the past 72 hours.

        “He didn’t do anything,” she told Sirius, hoping she sounded believable. Sirius looked like he wanted more: a confessionmost likely. “I… just feel weird around him.”

        Sirius smirked. “Ah, I see,” he said. Judging by his growing amusement, he’d immediately figured her out and was just taking his sweet time reveling in it. “Love, pesky little bugger, isn’t it?”

        “W—love?” Y/N shook her head frantically. “No, that’s not it. I just—”

        “You’re avoiding your best mate because things feel ‘weird,’” Sirius pointed out. “You already know about his furry little problem so that’s ruled out. What else makes being around a best mate weird? Maybe fancying him?”

        “Believe what you want,” Y/N said tiredly. Her brain chanted at her, Accept it! Accept it! Accept it! but she didn’t want to accept it. Not even deny it, honestly. She thought avoiding him would avoid ruining their friendship, and she knew eventually if she let herself get convinced there weren’t real feelings involved, things could go back to normal. It was all a matter of time and patience. Sirius was not adhering to her internal plans… not that she wanted him to know anything about what went on in her head. He’d just take advantage of it.

        Sirius stared at her, not buying the act, before turning around. “Aye, Moony, come over here.”

        Seconds passed and the color drained from Y/N’s face.

        “Don’t worry, he didn’t hear us,” Sirius said with a grin, eye dropping down into a wink that drove most of Hogwarts wild, “but you guys are about to talk. Good luck, mate.”

        He disappeared around the corner and Y/N strained her ears trying to hear the end of what murmured conversation went on between Remus and Sirius when they met. Sirius’s loud footsteps echoed in her corner as he left, replaced by Remus’s nervous face peering around the bookcase.

        “Hi,” Y/N said nervously, wanting to bury her face into her sleeves. She couldn’t do that without looking like a child so she just ran her hands over her copy of Beauty and the Beastand hoped (prayed, more like) for the best.

        Remus walked deeper into the corner. “Hi,” he returned.

       They stared at each other without erupting into quiet conversation as they usually did when alone, and Y/N felt like screaming knowing she’d caused the rift. If she was honest—and she bloody well had to be, knowing that she’d done what she had to Remus’s feelings—she’d put her feelings over his and prioritized her own discomfort. She ran because she didn’t like how she was thinking or feeling. Remus didn’t even get a chance to coast along; he was left in dirt, befuddled and bereaved.

        “I’m sorry,” Y/N choked out.

        “I’m sorry, too,” Remus immediately said, his head of chestnut hair falling so that his scalp was visible to Y/N but his face wasn’t. His voice was shaking, like he was fighting a battle with his own nerves—and losing. “I don’t know what I did to hurt you, but I’m sorry. If my… if my problem’s what’s bothering you, I promise I won’t bother you anymore. I just thought—”

        “Remus,” Y/N said, realizing what he thought. Realizing she was the biggest fucking idiot—biggest fucking jerk—in the universe. He thought she was avoiding him because he was a werewolf. That was the furthest thing from her mind, but how could she put that into words? She was shaking from all the things she should say, could say, didn’t say, and all she mustered was his name, coming out like a sob. “That’s not…”

        “It’s okay,” Remus said with a barely controlled breech in composure. His eyes betrayed him, signaling to Y/N that he felt disgusted with himself and he was in pain. Because of me. Y/N wanted to stand up and hug him. She knew she needed to reassure him that he was so wrong, that she would never turn her back on him because of something out of his control, but the pit of self-loathing in her stomach was making words escape her. “I know I’m a monster… You don’t have to apologize. I deserve it—”

        “Remus, goddammit,” Y/N said. She began to feel angry about how he was talking about himself.

        Remus continued on, his face turning wet with tears; “I know that what I am is always going to be a part of me, I don’t expect anyone to accept it. I don’t accept myself. How can I expect anyone else to? You were kind enough to even give me what you have—"

        “I love you!” Y/N burst out, louder than she’d ever talked, unwilling to listen anymore. She knew everyone in the library probably heard her but she didn’t care. Her attention was all for Remus, her mind exploding with persistent reasons why she should flee again—but she was tired of running. And she was tired of hurting Remus in the process. She was tired of him thinking she ran from him because of that, something he could never have helped. “I love you, Remus, but I’m scared. Not scared of you. Not scared of your problem. Hell, I don’t even care about that! Okay? I’m scared of ruining everything we have. We’ve been friends since bloody first year! That’s a long time! Sirius is like a brother, and James and Peter are some of my best mates that you’ve given me. If I—if I love you like this, it’s broken. It’s fucking ruined, innit? Things would never be the same and I, I’d rather break my heart a thousand times than walk over yours.”

        “Y/N…” Remus stared at her, mouth agape. If there was a word for his expression, he was confounded.

        “I’m sorry,” she whispered in return. And she was, so bloody sorry she could build a mountain out of her apologies. “

        “Don—don’t be sorry,” Remus said, more assertive, turning his head every which way like he had a fever he couldn’t shake. “Y/N… I love you, too. You know that, right? I thought… How could you love someone who’s a monster?”

        “Remus, shut the bloody hell up. You’renot a monster. You’re kind and selfless and brave and smart, and if anyone doesn’t deserve someone, it’s me. I don’t deserve you, Remus. But I love you more than I’ve loved anyone in my life and it’s unimaginable what I’d do for you. You give me butterflies but you also make me more scared than I was during O.W.L’s week. You’re just—perfect, Remus. Bloody perfect. And I’m sorry for running but know it was never because of you—it’s because I was afraid to lose you.”

        “You won’t ever lose me, Y/N,” Remus said with tears. Y/N had gotten up from her chair, book falling off her lap, and she was there to wipe them away. She held his head in her hands, staring at him like he was her whole bloody world. She hoped he saw it. “I… you’re my best friend. And you’re the love of my life. I’ve been afraid, too, but maybe we can have both without losing either.”

        “If anyone can make that happen, it’s us,” Y/N said, laughing through her tears.

        Remus was not a monster and at the end of the day Y/N wasn’t either.

But hurting the people you loved was something a monster did, does. So what did that make Y/N? 

[seokjxnnie]

celestial (pt. 4) | kth (m)

↠ genre: smut, angst, demon au, incubus!taehyung x f reader ↠ warnings: only 2k words of this chapter isn’t smut 🥴, big dick tae, rough sex, slight brat!reader, f masturbation, slight exhibitionism, public sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), handjob, thigh riding ↠ length: 7.4k

↳ her flesh and blood imparts immortality to any demon, but the incubus protecting her from the hunt requires something else of her body.

↞ part 3 | masterlist | part 5 ↠

a/n: thank u for being so patient throughout my absence in updating this series! this is a pretty smutty chapter to make up for it hehe

“These ones?” A gala apple rolls in the pads of Hoseok’s fingers.

She shakes her head, the fix of her stare offered to the fuji apples on the neighboured shelf instead. The visual of a clean snap advertised by its firm speckled skin draws her reach to them. Hoseok holds the skimpy plastic bag open for her to drop in four.

He continues their prior conversation while steering their shopping cart along the margins of the produce section and towards the aisles. “He’s been resting, been wanting to be alone, holed up in his room.” A sigh carries his dim volume. “But don’t worry, he’s just being a stubborn piss baby. His wounds will close up to nothing but scars in just another few days.” His elbow finds her arm with a light, playful rut in hopes of evicting the discourage from her expression.

Surface wounds may heal, but Taehyung’s eyes will remain muted, telling of the wuthering that colonizes from within.

The nod she replies with is made unconvincing by the distance her gaze wear. It’s guilt, it’s worry, it’s confusion that occupies her and disorients her coordination, so that a jar of instant coffee is pushed off the ledge when she grabs the one next to it. She flinches in anticipation of her ear splitting from the vibrant sounds of shattered glass, but a sigh of relief deflates her instead when it fluently transitions into the catch of Hoseok’s palm.

Her lips pull into a taut purse that a self-deprecative “Shit, sorry” pries its way out of.

The sympathy doesn’t depart from his eyes as his voice adorns something tender and comforting in the delicate utterance of her name. “This is not your fault, you know?”

He means the condition of her familiar, not necessarily the coffee jar she nearly splintered.

The features of her face soften and traces a faint smile. “I know, thank you.” She catches the place above his elbow in a reassuring squeeze.

With Taehyung bedridden, the rest of the guys worked on rotation for her surveillance. Jimin attended class with her yesterday, Hoseok is running errands with her today, and Namjoon is accompanying her at the library study session tomorrow.

The bleakness that the familiar played in his tone in the last words he muttered to her had deterred her from visiting. And so, she now only knows him by the crudely pieced together fragments she’s received by mouth, all of which were unfortunately futile in alleviating her disquiets.

Nighttime poses as the largest threat – the perfect sheath of dusk for the summit of deviant activity, especially for those of supernatural existence. Hence, she has had Jungkook at a few arms’ lengths away for the past couple nights while she sleeps. After Taehyung, Jungkook succeeds in strength, making him the most qualified to guard against whatever tribulations are hiding in the night.

It didn’t come as easy to Jungkook to fall asleep just anywhere like it did for Taehyung though. The incubus effortlessly found slumber atop floorboards that were buffered by a mere pillow. Meanwhile, Jungkook finds himself tipping over windowsills and toppling over edges of bedframes when he even just grazes a snooze that wasn’t in his own bed. Tonight, he’s grating and rustling against the wood panels in a seemingly endless pursuit for a forgiving position on the ground, even with the layers of blankets and cushions she’s assembled into a makeshift sleeping bag.

The girl mirrors his sleeplessness with her own.

“Jungkook,” she sighs and elevates her shoulders in bed with the prop of her elbow. “Go home.”

Jungkook twists his head around to her, and the quick of his reaction only confirms how estranged he is to sleep.

“Go home,” she repeats with a sadness when she reads the barren in his irises, loud even in the shadows. “Get some rest in your own bed.”

“I can’t just leave you alone. Especially at night.” A grog swathes his voice.

“I’ll be fine. And you can’t fend anything off when you’re so worn out anyway.”

She speaks in gentle volumes that envelopes a vivid, sincere plead, and it sits him up with an uncertain hand raking against the nape of his neck. Another word of reassurance from her, accompanied by the overwhelming craving for his cold bedsheets that promises an uninterrupted rest, and Jungkook leaves by her bedroom window.

The girl flattens back down onto her bed, breathing in with relief the still hush that’ll encourage her own unbroken slumber. And she’s allowed to think that for about six minutes, until the fabric of Taehyung’s clothes susurrate against her window frame.

Initially unidentified, the noises rattle her with a wince. Even after recognizing him as he faces her in a slump on the sill, her bones still shiver at the glimpse of the near eerie paleness of his skin, glowing as if dimness is no deterrent. His wounded arm seems to have recovered most of its mobility, but the bandages that hide the scene suggest that the gashes remained vulnerable. Before her exasperation could carve words questioning why he was out of bed, he breaks the air with his own gritted vex.

“You know you can’t be alone, especially at night.”

She deflates, head wilting on her shoulders. She doesn’t want an argument at this time of night while she’s been brewing in this state of turmoil, but it’s what he greets her with after his interval of cold seclusion that he started curtly, unjustly. The sigh that empties from her chest is hefty. “Jungkook wasn’t sleeping. He needs sleep.”

The familiar lets go of his own disheartened exhale as he falls deeper against the wooden frame. He’s reminded of what a fussy sleeper the youngest is and recalls the absence that occupied his stare when he arrived home moments ago. “Fine. I’ll stay.”

She purses her lips tightly. “Are you in any state to do that?” her counter is frail, concerned. “How are you feeling?” she tries.

“I’m fine.”

He’s a broken record that recites the same acquainted phrase that evades any delving honesty. It’s delivered just as blunt as any other time, and it bullies her already faltering spirit to wane further. A corner of her forehead sinks into the flat of her palm.

He swallows, recognizing that even a hush couldn’t disguise the bleakness that left his lips and elicited the dispirited surrender in her silent reply. His heart sits a little heavier in his chest. He softens his tone this time as the pang of remorse inspires him to browse the surface of transparency. “I’ve been resting. I’m healing. I’ll return back to normal in a few days.”

Finally, he offers a trace of accessibility, and it’s enough to lift her peer to directly meet his eyes. She drives the crescent of her nails into her palms. “But you won’t.” The blanched quality that swamps his irises will certainly remain a few days from now, an eternity even if he keeps eluding her like this. Her legs swing to flatten her soles on the floor. “Why won’t you let me help you?”

“Don’t worry about it, I don’t need anything from you,” he speaks without hesitation, and it ties a hurtful knot in her gut.

His blatant lies would’ve enthused her anger if she wasn’t already submerged in hurt. “Why are you doing this? We both know very well there’s something I can do for you. You’re like this because of me, because of what you do for me, and because of what you’ll continue to do for me until you’re on the brink of death.” Composure is held at a grand length away from her. A gale of frustrated words sputters from her lips while tight fists rigidly fixed at her sides drain of colour. “So why won’t you let me do this for you? It’s what you need and it’s what you’ve been trying to do since the day we met.”

“That’s just it!” he at last grazes a volume that strays from the safety of scripted detachment. “You just feel indebted because you blame yourself. It’s not your fault, and I won’t take advantage of you like that.” With the upset sigh that follows from his chest, his eyes slope down to the wooden panels of the floor rather than confronting the perseverance in her stare.

He is distraught, and yet it spreads a warmth to ease the twinge inside her, because it was his cold front pulling back to reveal unpolluted intentions fostered by his concern for her. He’s thwarted by the idea that he’s forcing a hand over her. Except, he hadn’t realized – and maybe, she hadn’t either – the craving for him that’s taken her from the start.

The sheets are squeezed between her fingers as, in the brief interval of a soundless air between them, a subtle muse of what if’s ghosts in her mind. Then, a few modest movements pull her off the bed. “Taehyung,” the wisp of his name travels on a thin breath. A few more timid strides retire the distance between them.

His jaw tightens in response, gaze still resolute in being her stranger. “Don’t—“

She carefully dips to her knees in front of him, so that she falls under the meet of his eyes. His breath hitches in the cap of his throat when he distinguishes a lace of longing weaved in her irises. A clench claims his muscles when her meek fingers overlap his with tantalizing delicacy.

“I want you.”

Taehyung remains unmoving alongside her docile tenor, but it is him refusing to let the charge of anticipation from within reach the surface before he confirms the allure that she projects. “Don’t say things you can’t take back.” There’s a gravel in his voice composed by the restraint that occupies him.

“I haven’t.” The whine in her whisper is nearly invisible, yet it couldn’t evade his refined senses. The weakness that gains on her only confirms her declaration. She shakes in her respires as she climbs her nose closer to his. His grazing hot breath paints her face with deep colours. “I want you,” she repeats so that in their new abbreviated vicinity, he could catch in full her radiating desire.

Inhibitions evaporated, Taehyung immerses in his hunger.

His lips crush against hers with fever before he’s greedily drinking in the gasp that fogs over his tongue from her mouth. The deficit of withheld indulgence abounds him with a ravenous impatience, and it shows in the way his palms splay the nape of her neck and the small of her back to further sink him into unventured depths of her kisses. He drapes her tongue in the invigored vibrations of his hum when he feels her small hands gain desperate clutches on his shoulders while she’s fighting to catch up with his gluttonous pace. The inundation that cripples her breath afflicts just the same tremors in her kneel atop the unaccommodating floorboards. Her limbs stutter, her lungs give, and she’s forced to just barely break from his lips with a pant. It echoes in his ear with a lust that sings to his animal quality.

He catches her before a space is able to exist between their chests, and the heat doesn’t depart even when he’s haste in moving to lay her down in bed with his own frame a meld atop hers. While his lips close right back in with the rake of his teeth that seeks to swell her bottom plump, scarce surges course his body in reminder of what the rapture of revitalization feels like. The taster of an energy that is soon to be brimming coaxes his appetite to thunder, so that his zeal refuses to break himself from the caresses of her tongue if he were to slide the tank top over her head. Instead, he drags the straps down her shoulders while their wet warmths continue to cushion around one another.

She is just as starved, and the tugging that torrents between her thighs to the stretch of her lower abdomen is a tireless reminder of just so. Rejecting any leave from his kisses as well, her back arcs in allowing him ease in peeling her top down further, just until her breasts meet the naked air. It’s a short encounter, because Taehyung is keen to fill his palm with its suppleness, the cave of his hand rolling circles with the punctuation of burrowing nails. All the while, his mouth drops to catch her other nipple and feel it pebble against his tongue. Her chest flitters under his ardent touches in mirror of her respires that had rid themselves of her control. The saturation that grows between her legs makes her frantic in pulling the back of his shirt up over his neck, anxious to relish in the bliss of flushed skin against flushed skin.

The writhing legs hooked around his hips has him dragging a smirk down the length of her torso, trailing raw redness that will bloom purple the next day. The salt of her skin is of an inebriating flavour. The drifting smell of her slick desire enthrals him to a carnal degree. The pulsing gains on him more and more. It all debilitates him just enough that he forgets to overlap judgement with action, and the pair of shorts he meant to glide down her legs hadn’t even reached her knees before they were frayed cloths completely torn from her figure. He’s even taken her panties with it, and as soon as her wet cunt is chilled by the cool air that kisses it, a moan of his name announcing her vulnerability shivers from her lips. And it keeps him from restoring any remnant of restraint.

Taehyung is eager to feel the sodden gloss of her slit for himself, and an unrelenting hand captures both of her wrists above her head to fix her in place for him to do just so. The pads of his fingers run a thorough trail that spreads the sheen for her to feel what an indecent mess she’s made of herself. All the while, he casts an unwavering gaze over her, indulging in the visceral reactions that rips through her.

Her helplessness roars under his stare, inspiring her to squirm against his touches that mercilessly walk the line between a ghost and a fulfillment. With hips innately rolling into the shapes he draws on her clit and walls fanatically clenching in a plead to be stretched, she climbs to a desperation that has her gasping for a breath. “Taehyung, please, I want it already.” Choked are her groans, but her imploring eyes flicker to find his in assisting her appeal.

Every element of her existence screams with need, and he wants it just as much—he needs it even more. But the sight of her hysteria to be filled by him is riveting.

“Hm? Want what?” His digits retreat from her sopping cunt and it earns him a gulp of relief from her, thinking that he was finally going to accommodate with his cock. Instead, Taehyung is grotesquely leisure in travelling his index to his mouth. His lips catch the dribble around his knuckle while his stare is resilient against her own rolling vision as he enjoys her taste. He tastes her like she belongs to him, and he’s awfully convincing.

“Fuck me, Taehyung.” She’s breathless as her thighs shudder against each other to demonstrate her restlessness for friction, impatient to be filled by him.

It is as if he intends to extort her suffering when he pushes his still saturated middle finger into her own mouth, splaying her own flavour across the cavity. She then works resolutely to lap the length to prove of her mania. He huffs a billow of something between a taunt and fascination to disguise the irreparable extent of how hypnotized he really was.

His bound on her wrists slacken, and he watches raptly as she hardly allows even a second to exist before her thirst drives her to pry herself from his grasp and lower to the tent in his pants. While she palms his hard-on, they sync in groans of urgency. Feeling the throb of it in her clasp even over his clothes peaks her greed, so she moves without waste when she straightens up and tears the waistband down his hips.

A purr rolls from her throat in finally having the heat of his cock in her hold, and she’s eager to spiral her thumb around the glisten that sheaths the rose tip. She’s mesmerized as she sizes his shaft against her hand.

“F-Fuck.” His daunting girth reels a curse from her lips before she’s able to catch it.

Has she even seen anything comparable to him? The sheer length of him makes her mouth crave to taste him, to stretch around him, to abrade the cap of her throat. But her greater hunger is the swelter between her legs. A single grip pumps his member a few times while her other hand dives past her pelvis, fingering her entrance and parting her digits in trying to stretch herself in preparation for him.

It’s a shamelessly lewd sight that has him viciously vexed towards any more delay. He hooks around the back of her knees and pulls brusquely so that she falls flat on her back. Hisses of greed brim his mouth as he grazes her slick folds with the aching head of his cock, previewing of the pleasurable tightness that’s to come and the vitalization that’ll follow.

“Yes, please,” she again begs in the currency of whispers and quaking limbs.

Taehyung is gradual as he pushes into her. Her neck cranes until it strains and her head is abysmally sunk into the pillow. Her eyes roll back until she feels the pulling of a stressed nerve. “Oh my god, you’re so—oh,” she gasps for a breath that seems to be at an unreachable distance when he’s filled her to the hilt. Her brows squeeze together and the seam of her lips adopt a taut purse as she is sorely inexpert against his overwhelming size.

He has to softly call her name a few times to reclaim her attention from the loud ache. His fingers frame the side of her face as he searches for her eyes. “We can stop.” The twist she wears in her expression convinces him that it’s a sensible suggestion.

“No!” she pants, desperate, as she embraces him closer so he doesn’t leave and take with him the linger of bliss that was beginning to surface. “More,” her untidy kisses drag along his jaw to sway him, “please, please.”

His hand braces on the mattress next to her head as a strangled sigh empties from his chest when she writhes in chase of movement. It amplifies the pulses that colonizes his entirety in a way that boasts of a point of no return. He gives in to the brash craving, and his hips adopt a steady rock that wrings him of a guttural moan.

Taehyung moves with a curbed pace, and yet she stretches from him to an unmapped capacity. It’s an otherworldly trance, an unparalleled fever. Every careful lunge has the ridges of his amply fulfilling size grazing every curve of her walls, exploiting her for every elated sound she is capable of. And for every one of her whines that gain in volume and colour, he mirrors with the heavying of his thrusts, meeting each of her clenches with a grunt that speaks of his own summiting appetite.

“So fucking tight,” he hisses, nothing short of predatory, “so fucking good.”

It’s not long until he’s already teasing a cap of nerves that floods her with ecstasy, prompting her arms and legs to envelop his strong frame in fervently inviting the depth. She’s forced to drive the clamp her teeth down on his shoulder to bite back the lurid moans that threatens to wrench from her mouth with alarming noise. It comes as a displeasure to the familiar, because he pulls out of her only to plunge back in with a remorseless force that drives her crown into the bed’s headboard.

“I want to hear you.” The animal vibrations of his peeved growl are palpable against the flush of her skin.

The escaped yelp of startle urges her to pack her knuckles between her teeth. “B-but—neighbours,” she shakes gracelessly in her words under the pound of his cock.

“I don’t care. Let me hear you.”

She couldn’t protest against the brute in his voice or the alien strength in each of his heaves, so a cry of pleasure is quick to follow, and it casts a smug quality over his grin. He huffs proudly at the depth he gains and the squeaks it earns him. He feels every shiver, every twitch, every rhythm under him with an immaculately sharp perception. His forehead falls against hers, connecting her pitched mewls with his gravelly groans, as he’s coerced further into a yield against the restoring vivacity that demands a deeper burrow, a greedier pace. He’s entranced, palming the base of her throat to fix her down so she has nowhere to go but to take all of him in. He eases his thorough sliding to cavernous depths with the throw of her legs over his shoulders.

The unacquainted pleasure hoods her eyes and hazes any thoughts that weren’t carnal, yet she couldn’t dismiss the foreign fire behind his eyes now, framed by the colours returning to his skin. His movements drive with a ravenous haste and power, as if exhaustion is a distant stranger. Her thrilled hums escalate to gasping shrieks when he starts ramming into her like he wants to fuck her into the mattress. Her skin threatens to tear under his raking fingers, and her hips stutter with ache with each of his untiring thrusts. The bed groans to all corners of the steamed room under their tenacious rock.

“Oh! Taehyung!” she is winded, the flat of her hands frantically grappling across his chest when the fleshy fold of nerves twinges with every meet of his laden length.

A panic hitches his breath in his throat and suspends his movement, “Shit.” Concern displaces the blaze in his irises. “Am I hurting you?”

“No,” she pants, restlessness plaguing her every tenor, “I like it.” She reassures with a hand that swipes at the beads of sweat collecting between his brows and trickling down his chin. While the break is appreciated for her to catch her breath, the throb that claims her walls only promises that she is desperate for more. She convinces him just so with the eager capture of his lips with her own, where a ghost of a plead exists in between. “Please don’t stop.”

Taehyung holds himself still there above her — a short moment yet feeling like perpetuity to her — as his eyes show a ponder. Her mouth starts to carve a displeased whine he pulls away, and with him the leave of his cock from the sheath of her heat. But it is extinguished before finding sound when his intimate warmth cascades down her spine instead. The incubus moves her on her side to lay beside her back, his chest moulding against her shoulders.

An elated whimper shivers from her tongue when he pulls her top thigh towards his hip before carefully gliding back in her. Their new position limits his reach and curbs his haste, which is likely his intention. Though she was within the vicinity of unbridled bliss that came with the soreness of his primal strides, she is just ecstatic to be filled by him again.

His arm that slithers under her holds her chest as if asserting possession, while their hips roll together with attuned fluency. He keeps her figure close and hot against him as he loses himself again in the loud sounds of her cunt wet with desire, of sweaty skin slapping and grinding against each other as he drills into her.

It seems like Taehyung’s gone on for ages, longer than she’s ever experienced before, yet his intensity seemingly refuses to falter. The brimming of her cunt by his delectable lunges is edging her closer to the idyllic sensations of a springing coil. He must be in a mutual proximity, because his swift motions were straying from rhythm. He confirms with the profanities that punctuates his erratic respires.

“Yes, please, please, please.” A vibrant volume flares in her chest for her to invite his veer into a tempo that pumps into her as if to chastise her pretty pussy. Her whines soar madly when an onrush of exhilaration strangles her muscles and sends her hands in a thrash that’s frantic for purchase, finding it in the locks of his hair and the crumpled cushions of her bed. It’s a foreign unravel – she’s never had an orgasm quite like it, seemingly a sensation that’ll follow her until kingdom come.

Climax bleeds into every one of her nerves, and she continues to twitch against him while he is close behind. Clutching onto her for her to take the whole of his stuttering core, he nuzzles the crook of her neck with gruff sighs that announce loudly through clenched teeth, just barely grazing a thunder. He empties into her, his thick load drenching her quivering walls with a warmth that parts her lips with a delirious grin.

Hazy waves roll down her entirety while she catches her breath. A purr falls from her lips when the pull of his cock trails a hot dribble of his seed to the seams of her sex. As the lingers of her high recedes further and further, she feels more and more of the soreness that weighs on her body. So much so that she could only find enough dexterity to just turn her head to follow him when his temperature draws away before rolling onto his back.

The fog of her mind nearly sobers right up when she registers the aura that just about renders him unfamiliar. He glows with an energy that warns of rampant strength, even to her mortal eye. He tears the loosened bandages from his arm, revealing his lost need for it as only unblemished skin sits underneath. She even finds herself being taken back when his gaze picks up to find hers — his stare reads with an unearthly vigour.

Taehyung lifts his weight onto the prop of his elbow as he leans over her. Only in this abbreviated distance could she study the traces of guilt that weaves through his eyes. A gentle pull from him has her falling onto her back before he’s sweeping the matted hair from her blushing skin, like drawing back curtains to reveal the rouge rawness that streaks her shoulders. He follows the evidence of his previously burrowing fingers down to her chest, he waist, her thighs. Taehyung is silent, but the self-disappointment that consumes his expressions doesn’t need a voice to be loud. He had edged too close to losing control.

“I’m fine,” she angles his peer back up at her with the cup of her hands on his jaw. Wearing his marks is a sinful pleasure, really. Besides, it’s impossible to find any sliver of regret within the same vicinity as the best orgasm of her life. “That was…”

But she keeps herself from voicing such shameless admissions when she brings his digits to her lips, busying her mouth with the peppered kisses she runs along the length of his index. The greatest relief of all lies in the disappearance of his blanched skin and drained eyes.

The familiar might’ve leaned into her reassuring caresses, yet nonetheless he drags his tongue along the red bands on her skin, soothing the tenderness. It’s the least he could do for the replenishment. It is also for him too, to savour her touch and taste while his cock still feels, with pristine precision, the ghost of her tight wrap around him, threatening to be a memory he’ll never be able to get rid of.

Fucking him was just so good.

It’s been an echo that trespasses into every one of her unrelated thoughts, on top of the very related thoughts that already swarm her mind. Even though it’s been well over a week, even when she has the much more urgent event of final exams that demands her attention, even when she commits every waking hour to exhaustive study sessions, nothing is as domineering as the reminiscence of his outlandishly thick cock twitching in her hand and throbbing in the slick walls of her warmth. It’s a reminiscence that then inspires the restlessness to find out just how much of him she could take into her mouth, what his hot cum tastes like when it jets against the back of her throat that scratches with pain from the assault of his velvet tip.

Even now when he sits across from her, both of them fully clothed and residing in a context where lust comes to die – reviewing notes in a stuffy library filled with miserable students who share the same notoriously difficult final exam as her tomorrow morning – her cunt anxiously beats to stretch even with just the pump of his two fingers.

“According to relevant theory, a brain-expressed gene that leads to an offspring that cries less and therefore elicit less demands from the mother is…?” Taehyung quietly recites a potential test question from the top cue card of her prepared deck.

Even when he’s helping her study, she’s losing herself in the subtle grinding of his teeth. When his mouth is idle, Taehyung has a habit of chewing on a phantom piece of gum, which is what he’s been doing between questions. Unfailingly, it’s been reminding her of the teeth that had nipped her breasts to urge the bloom of purple, the faint bruised flowers that still stamped her collar bones under her shirt now.

He blinks at her silence, and interpreting it as an uninformed blank, he answers for her, “A maternally-imprinted/paternally-expressed gene.”

Her stare then fixes on his fingers that shuffle the card to the bottom, marvelling at the veins that trail down his hands, picturing how the entire ensemble would look absolutely handsome wrapped around her throat.

Fuck it. She can’t take it anymore. She wants him.

The girl shoots up from her seat.

“Ey, where are you—?”

Taehyung is left alone with his bewilderment unresolved when she departs before he could finish his whispered bafflement. He watches as she weaves around the tables of cramming students without turning around to offer any expression of explanation. She’s quick to then round the far corner and disappear behind the bookshelves that occupy the back quadrant of the room. When she fails to resurface from the pillars of archives after a few passing seconds, he concludes that he’ll have to follow her for answers himself. An exasperated huff pushes him up from his chair as he retraces her strides.

The incubus didn’t even need to peek through several rows to hunt for his owner, finding her alone behind the bookshelf she had initially ducked into, meaning she had stood still here waiting for him to come.

“What the fuck are you—?”

His puzzled frustration is cut short when she reels him in by the pull of his shirt, stammering on her tiptoes before ramming her lips against his. His shoulders clatters against the shelves when she avidly moves in to deepen her reach.

She is quick to turn the kiss wet, smiling into the messy collides of their mouths when he unwillingly sighs of surprise against her tongue. “Fuck me, Taehyung.” The breathless wisps of his name parts her lips, creating an inch that urges for the delve of his tongue against the cushion of her own. “I just want you to fuck me so bad.”

The sheer wanton of her raw words charges at him without anticipation. The utter urgency in her shoving herself into his mouth, even in such a reprehensible setting, has his arms innately looping her waist and tugging her closer until their knees touch. He nearly growls with delight, hungry hands slithering down to grasp the full of her hips, before the rigorous drumming that starts within reminds him of his overpowering capacity.

A dissatisfied snarl rumbles in the back of her throat when he pulls her away. “I can’t,” he sucks his teeth to tame the excruciating tension of interrupting such delicious indulgence. “I’m too strong right now. I’ll hurt you.”

His energy had just been refilled last week, and without much expenditure since, he risks the fulfillment of the inhumanly aggressive instincts that surfaced during their last encounter.

She forces herself back into his chest, starved for the very ache he warns her of. “Then fucking do it. I want it.” Her lips dripping with venom might as well have carved out the word “coward” for him.

His brow cocks with vex from being tested, and from the arousal that begins its sear from within. But the offensive scold of “Don’t” channels past his gritted teeth before he’s creating distance between their waists again.

A peeved huff billows from her nose. But really, his restraint only kindles her desire to taunt his boundaries before ultimately evaporating it. Tearing her glare away from him, she peers to the terminal of the bookshelves, where a single row of study carrels lines the back wall. She had initially ducked behind these shelves to find cover for her lust away from witnesses, but she forecasts that the opposite might in fact rile her familiar.

She strides away from him and towards the cubicle desks, beaming with mischief in finding that they each sat a couple meters apart from each other. The one she arrives at is vacant, while the flanking tables are occupied by students studying with their heads ducked down out of her sight below the perimeter of partitions. It grants her just enough privacy to get away with what she’s about to do, yet bordering just close enough to being a disgraceful spectacle that provokes him.

The girl spins on her feet to face him while he remains standing a few arm’s lengths away. She rascally grins at the perplexed crease between his brows above curiously watchful eyes before heaving herself onto the tabletop surface. She leans back onto the cubicle walls that surrounds behind her before popping the buttons of her denim shorts. The bottom pillow of her lips glistens under the swipe of her tongue when she catches the clench in his jaw and the flare in his nostrils. Dragging the loosened waistband down her thighs until it falls to the dangle of one of her ankles, she arranges for his unobstructed view when her feet props up on the desk’s edge and her parted knees draw to her chest. Her fingers dive in between, and she’s immodest as she leans into each stroke she presses against the growing patch of moisture on her panties. A sultry giggle with scarce volume overlaps the laden breaths that empties from her chest when shadows of anger dances with shades of temptation in the darks of his irises.

She sways her glance towards her unparticipating neighbours, finding that her quiet pants have evaded their studious concentration, and the desk barriers were effective shields for her lower body from any surrounding eyes. So, she finds thrill in the fret of being found out, and an even lusher excitement in watching his defences wither. She lets the blistering heat consume her when her fingers glide under her panties and there, continue a knead of shapes against her naked, sopping cunt. The seams of her grin tuck under her teeth at the spellbinding skin contact in the fervent roll of her digits, as if chasing for them to cramp up. A pride lights up her face when the tension in Taehyung’s balled fists and the unforgiving purse in his lips is a tell that, even while she tries to remain below an ascertainable threshold of noise, his shrill senses pick up the slick sounds of her fondling her glossy pussy.

The mischief that hoods her gaze with a seduction has him exasperated by her audacity, yet effectively stirred by a craving to have his way with her. His glare swivels between the bliss spread across her face and the tight circles she traces against her clit. But when her lewd mewls escalate to graze a measure that’s enough to capture the attention of the boy on her left, who begins to inquiringly pick up his head, Taehyung’s quick to remove her from the situation.

With unearthly speed, the incubus closes in to gather her into his arms before withdrawing to the veil of the towering bookshelves. The thought of anyone else being a viewer to her erotic theatre is a detestable concept that he’ll vehemently deny success. He demands to be her only spectator.

His mouth crashes down onto hers to smother the titter of victorious delight that would’ve soared from her throat. When had she moved from the study carrel to being shoved up against the column of books escapes her, but she’s instead wholly occupied by the elation of being the receiving end of his pent-up appetite that is now uninhibited in the absence of onlookers.

“You want it that fucking bad, huh?”

She whimpers with anticipation against the predator in his voice. He reduces her to a victim against the antagonistic bites he leaves on her lips. A gasp exists between the parting of their lips when he’s rough and abrupt in spinning her around until her face and chest scrape against book spines and wooden planks. With her back to him, a harsh yank has her panties in a drape around her knees. The shivers that overtake her are violent when he drops to a kneel and his hot breath steams against her saturated slit. Unforgiving hands grappling her upper thighs part her ass cheeks for him to marvel at the wet anticipation that glistens in between, drawing a gruff hum of greed from the depths of his throat.

Then, shock rushes through her before anything else when his mouth closes in on her sex. She twitches at the contact she was so anxious for, irrepressible as if to confess to him that he’s robbed her body of autonomy. A quavering sigh departs her when he mutters a praise about her slickness and taste while his lips cycle the capture and release of her folds. He grazes with his nose when he moves to lap her clit, relishing in all of the trickling desire he presses out of her. The barrier of her teeth driven down on her lips tries to curb the voice that begs to break the still air with a brazen volume, while her hips are untameable as it grinds along with the thorough pushes and strokes of his wet muscle.

But then, he starts fucking her with his meticulous tongue.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, Tae—” she’s pried of a low yet audible tone that trembles with fever. The rows of books take the assault of her hands that are frantic for a concrete grasp.

He withdraws just the slightest, enough for her to hear, “Is this what you wanted, Princess?”

A relentless shudder courses through her. By everyone else, that address is used for respect, a friendly familiarity. On the other hand, she has never ever heard it touch the tip of his tongue. But now, it rolls from his lips as a corrupting taunt, and her body responds. Thirst boils her, as if she aches to hear him say it again, to degrade her again.

“You wanted to be heard, right?” Taehyung denies her recovery from his tongue-fucking, because it’s replaced by the unforgiving thrust of his two fingers. “Let’s hear you then, Princess.”

His unwavering regard nails to her, drinking in how lustfully she writhes with a core that couldn’t help but snap to meet his strokes. He hisses of approval at the painting of pleasure she leaves on his fingers.

And then, Taehyung gets what he wants when, to pair with the pumping digits that curl inside her, he invites his mouth back onto her throbbing bead. She implores that no unsuspecting patrons were anywhere within a few pillars from her, because her throat opens with a wanton whine.

He sucks generously as his hand doesn’t tire, and feeling her walls pulse around him confronts him with the realization that his composure is also evaporating by the sweet desperation of her pleads. He yields to the urge of watching the pleasure unravel across her face.

Taehyung drops down into a seat, pulling her to the ground with him. He sits up against the bookshelf with her on his lap. She straddles him, yet object of his dominating eyes, she effectively feels trapped under him. Then, feeling a stiff poke on her thigh derails all other thoughts and solely reminds her of her yearn for his cock. She eagerly rids his tent of the obstructing clothes, indulging in the possessive quality that flickers across his expression. However, before she could lift her core to position her entrance over his rosy head sheened by a film of pre-cum, he instead latches onto her waist to lower her back down onto his thigh where he steers a sway.

He’s still denying her the fill of his cock in wary of his erratic power, but so desperate for release, she’ll submit to anything that’ll get her just that. Hips convulsing from the violent pressure between her thighs, she hysterically chases for contact and finds it in the friction of grinding against the fabric of his pants. Shudders of pleasure claim her limbs as she dyes a damp pool on his lap. He applies a little more caution this time in gripping her skin, before his strength leaves behind painful markings familiar to their last encounter.

His inhale that carries a gluttonous hiss is a tell that he is hypnotized by the motions of her rolling abdomen. She wants to watch his undoing just as much, so she finds the base of his cock with the swath of her palms. She glides the length to support her ambition, and her persistence propells him into a stifling fervour. He sinks his head back into the rack of hardcovers as he groans a carnal thread of praise and profanities.

Her hushed moans climbing in pitch warns him of her incoming release. Her one hand pumping of his dick is hastening and straying from grace, while the other anxiously grits onto his shoulder for balance until they paled. The feel of her, the sight, the smell, the tune of her is so delicious, he’s climbing towards a blinding hot pressure faster than ever before. His hoarse groans pry through teeth that clenches at the tension colonizing his muscles. He keeps up the toe-curling abuse on her swollen clit against the grate of his leg until orgasm slams down on her.

Her mouth begins to carve out the words of her euphoria, but she’s unable to finish in the overriding boil of her core. Her hips stutter wildly, yet remaining in complement to her sliding palm on his shaft until he shot his hot load in a splay across her shirt. It goes unnoticed as the ecstasy that surges through her instead elicits breathless songs of elation.

Taehyung watches with mesmerisation at how beautifully her climax carries out. While the retreating currents of climax slackens his limbs, his focus doesn’t dare stray from her, wishing the movie of bliss in her expressions would never end.

Panting as if her lungs had been deprived and the stuffy air surrounding her is a tantalizing treat, the waves of her body slow to a stop once her high passes and she’s submerged in a weightlessness. Her thoughts are beginning to fall into the enclosure of a heavenly daze when her limp gaze falls onto the ribbons of his cum that sprays across her chest.

“Oh,” she murmurs with a tickle of a mischievous chuckle. But she finds out that she doesn’t need to concern herself with how she was going to leave and show her face with sex stains in her clothes, because one by one, the ceiling lights flicker off.

Amidst their orgasms, they hadn’t realized that the library had closed.

tag list: @ehu-agavebaby​ @http-jinnie​ @ggsmashgg​ @la-vie-en-tae​ @tangledsparkles​ @lilacdreams-00​ @megladon1616​ @enigmaticlove-03​ @athletes-of-god​ @meowmeowyoongles​ @amanda-deann​ @atg-s​ @crisscrossapplesaucey​ @merakiiverse​ @jensryu​ @jeon-joker​ @chimchimsauce​ @bangtanloverrrrr​ @risefallrise @briramirezalipio​ @joon-july-agustd-septaember​ please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future updates!

[therainroguefanfiction]

💋 Seductive Trickery (Kurapika) #2 ~ I n n u e n d o

📑 Table of Contents | ◂ Previous Chapter

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( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) STEP TWO: Throw out constant innuendos.

“You’re doing great!” Leorio hit your back with a loud laugh. “Now, onto phase two!”

“Which is?” You questioned, raising an eyebrow at the black-haired male. He nodded towards your pocket with a grin, his arm tightening around your neck in anticipation. Smoothing it out so you could make out the black ink, you began to read the second step aloud. “Dirty talk about everything. In other words, throw constant sexual innuendos, but keep them verbal… are you out of your mind!?”

“Come now, Y/N! It’ll work!”

“Absolutely not! I don’t even know how to act that way! How is it even possible to talk dirty in a normal conversation?”

“It’s very easy,” he smirked, holding his index finger up.

“Yeah, for perverts like you.” You muttered, shrugging off his arm and walking into the other room where Gon, Killua, and Kurapika were.

The group was staying in a different hotel than yesterday. Thanks to Kurapika’s boss, you all were moved to a much larger and fancier hotel with expensive rooms that seemed more like small apartments. Kurapika had saved the man’s daughter and proved himself to be a loyal bodyguard. This was one of the rewards Nostrad had promised.

Kurapika was sat on the couch reading a book, Killua was playing a video game on the computer on the other side of the room and Gon was watching. The blonde glanced up when you and Leorio entered the room, you looking grim and annoyed while the male looked satisfied and arrogant. He had heard you arguing out in the hall but he hadn’t been able to make out what you were saying.

Kurapika felt curious about this but he didn’t want to ask questions. Even when you plopped down angrily beside him, muttering curses under your breath, he did not question it. Instead, he simply returned to reading his book. The way he saw it if you wanted to talk about what was bugging you, you would. He just had to be patient.

You glanced over your shoulder at Leorio, who had joined Gon and Killua. You gulped and shifted nervously before turning your gaze to Kurapika.

He felt a strange chill crawl up his spine. You, nervous? Those two words did not belong in the same sentence. It was almost frightening.

“What are you reading?” You questioned finally.

“A mystery that I borrowed from Nostrad’s library.” He responded, his eyes never leaving the page, but his mind did not focus on the words.

“Ahh…” you paused, taking a deep breath as if that would be enough to calm your nerves. “It’s hardcover, too. Nice and firm.”

Kurapika nodded, glancing at you. “Hardcover books can withstand more damage than the softcover.”

“I imagine… hardcover books are more desired than softcover. They are more… satisfying.” ‘Ugh! This is so stupid!’, you thought, trying not to cringe.

Kurapika blinked, his mind processing what you were saying and how you were saying it. It then clicked in his head and his cheeks flushed with color. He wasn’t sure if you were doing it on purpose, but it was… strangely arousing…

Kurapika swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, his grip tightening on the book. His throat was dry as he set the book on the coffee table before reaching for his drink. His shaking hands made it hard to get the cap off and he cursed silently.

“I can get it off for you, Kurapika.” You reached over and took the bottle from his hands, pulling the cap off with little effort before returning it to him. He refused it, though.

“E-Excuse me,” he muttered before getting up from the couch.

“I can come with you if you’d like.”

He shook his head rapidly, his blonde locks covering his eyes as he disappeared into one of the two bedrooms the hotel had.

You blinked in surprise before scowling at the drink in your hands. There was no way this was working. You couldn’t believe the stupid things you had said! He probably thought you sounded like a damn fool.

“Damn it,” You groaned, hanging your head in defeat.

Leorio patted your back. “Don’t worry, it’s definitely working. It’ll just take a bit of time.”

“You’re crazy,” you muttered in response, face in your hands.

“It’s a man’s instinct!”

‘Man’s instinct, my ass.’

But you couldn’t back out now. You had to keep pushing forward. Gon would never forgive you if you gave up – even though he didn’t know the situation, and Leorio would never let you live it down. Plus there was the chance of some other, prettier and sexier, girl coming along who could and would do this stuff. You couldn’t back down, your pride wouldn’t let you.

Even though half your pride would probably be gone by the time this was all over…

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▸Next Chapter

📜 Read more by checking out my masterlist 📜

[girls-scenarios]

Distractions in Rose Perfume

Idol: Chaeyoung (fromis_9)

Prompt: College AU Fromis_9 Chaeyoung x Reader where they are working on a project together at Reader’s house. Chaeyoung usually acts tough but suddenly there’s a thunderstorm and reader realises that Chaeyoung ( their crush) is just a big softie:) They end up cuddling and just watching a romantic movie, leaving the project for the next day.

Writer: Admin Kiwi

A/N: Happy (late) second anniversary to fromis! I’m dying for a comeback, but I’m so glad they’re actually posting current videos again. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy! - Admin Kiwi

♡ Tip Jar♡

When your business professor had first posted the list of partners for the big final project online, your heart had skipped a beat. Right there beside your name was a name you’d never expected to see: Lee Chaeyoung. Slowly, you had closed the tab, rubbing a hand over your face and letting out a worried groan. Why her?

Lee Chaeyoung had a reputation. It wasn’t like you didn’t like her, quite the opposite really. She was strikingly beautiful with a wide smile and a loud voice and the best hair you’d ever laid eyes on. But her eyes seemed to dig into your soul whenever you glanced at her in class, and you’d been intimidated by her ever since you saw her the first day of your freshman year. She was tall and tough and she told it like it was and didn’t seem to care what other people thought of her. Between her beauty and her tough exterior, it was hard for you to talk to her, much less to do an entire project with her. But you really had no choice: the professor had spoken.

Sighing, you had leaned back in your chair and closed your eyes. You could do this. You needed this A.

-

At first, things were awkward. You’d said maybe twenty words total to her over the time the two of you had gone to the same school, so when you sat down across from her in the library, neither of you really knew what to talk about. For a moment, you both just sat silently, before she cleared her throat and spoke up.

“I think we’ve had some classes together but I’ve never really talked to you. So I’m Chaeyoung.” She held out her hand and you resisted the urge to say that you knew as you shook her hand and gave her a nervous smile.

“I’m (Y/N). Nice to officially meet you.” Good. You didn’t sound like you were about to have a heart attack. She shifted in her chair and looked down at her notebook on the table, then back up at you, shoving her elbow onto the table and leaning her head on her hand. Her sigh made you jump.

“So what do you want to do this project on? I heard that Saerom and her partner are already making a coffee shop, so I’m out of ideas. This is my least favorite part of the semester. I hate this stuff.”

“Me too,” you said truthfully. The big projects always sucked. “Um, how about we try to think about what we’re interested in? Then we can see if we have anything and we can go from there.”

She raised her eyebrows and for a moment you were afraid she’d tell you that it was a dumb idea, but then she sat up and nodded. “That sounds like it’ll work.

Breathing a sigh of relief that you hoped was discreet, you gave her another smile. “Cool. Do you want to start then?

As it turned out, the two of you had a lot in common. Some of the awkwardness began to dissipate, despite your nervousness. Her smile seemed a lot less intimidating as she exclaimed that she was interested in one of your hobbies too, and the conversation began to flow more naturally. Chaeyoung was so loud that you were occasionally afraid of being kicked out and were glad the two of you weren’t in the quiet study area, but the two of you got along just fine.

By the time you left the library that day, the two of you had already decided to work on an after-school sports program, and you had a better understanding of Chaeyoung. She was still intimidating, but now the pounding of your heart at the sight of her smile was for a totally different reason.

-

It was strange to see and talk to Chaeyoung so much. Every time her name appeared on your phone screen, your heart jumped a bit, and now she even occasionally sat next to you in class, slumping down into her chair and greeting you with her loud voice and big smile. The most you saw her was outside of class, though. You had gotten used to library Chaeyoung: she was a bit quieter and a bit more focused on work. The library became the normal meeting spot, and that was good. Safe. Easy.

So, you weren’t expecting her to turn around in her chair after class and raise her eyebrows. “Since finals are making the library packed, want to study at your place?” It seemed like she read your mind as she added, “we can’t go to my place, my roommate is hosting a study group so it’ll be crowded.”

Your chest squeezed with nervousness as you bit your lip. You weren’t sure you were ready for this, but Chaeyoung was looking at you with raised eyebrows, expecting you to reply, so you swallowed and nodded your head. “Uh, sure.”

“Great!” She grinned. “I’ll meet you after your last class outside the library and we’ll go from there.” She then turned back around in her chair, leaving you to stare at her back as your mind raced. Chaeyoung was going to be in your house.

Your heart pounding, you took out your phone and sent a desperate text to your roommate, hoping that they got the hint to clean up a bit.

-

Chaeyoung was looking up at the now-cloudy sky as you walked up to the library. At the sound of your footsteps, she turned her head, and you caught a glimpse of fleeting worry before she put a smile on her face.

“You’re late, dude. What’s up with that?”

“Class ran long,” you said, glancing up at the clouds. “We should probably hurry. It looks like it’s going to rain soon.”

“No kidding.” The worry was back for a second as she shook her head. “I didn’t bring an umbrella today either.”

“I live close, if we start walking now we should be okay.”

“Okay.” She waited for you to start walking, then fell into step beside you. “I really hope it doesn’t storm.” She wrapped her arms around herself as she spoke, and you couldn’t help thinking that it was almost cute. You spared her another glance, surprised yet happy to see this side of her, and smiled.

“I don’t think it’ll be that bad.”

-

Unfortunately, you were wrong. Almost as soon as the two of you were settled down in your room with your notes out on the floor, rain started to pour from the sky. The consistent drum drew you to look out the window, just in time to see a flash of lightning in the sky.

“Whoa, it’s really bad out there. Where did this come from?” You turned around and saw Chaeyoung flinch at the sight of the lightning. Then, as thunder rumbled in the sky, its low growl shaking the building, she squeaked and pulled her hood up over her head, shivering.

For a moment, you stood amazed. The girl you’d been so intimidated by for so long was cowering away from the thunder on your floor. This was a side of her that you’d never seen before, and you couldn’t help but to stare until another roar of thunder made her whimper and you snapped to your senses.

“U-um, are you okay?”

She shivered and shook her head. “I-I’m afraid of thunder,” she admitted, her cheeks colored red as she stared at the floor. For a moment, you thought she looked cute like this. “This is super embarrassing, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You didn’t really know what to do, so you sat down beside her. “Is there-?”

Another roll of thunder cut you off, and you watched as she curled back up into herself. A pang of sympathy went through your heart, even though you couldn’t help but find her a bit cute. Gone was the intimidating Chaeyoung you’d gotten so used to. Now, she seemed so much more approachable. Swallowing, you racked your mind for things to do, and your eyes landed on your laptop.

An idea struck you.

“Uh, we could try and watch a movie to distract you?”

She looked up, peeking out from under her hood. “R-really?”

“Yeah! We’ll turn the volume up so you can’t hear the thunder as loudly.”

She thought about it for a moment, then nodded, her cheeks flushed. “Sorry,” she murmured as you stood from your spot. “Now we aren’t going to get anything done for the project.”

“That can wait,” you assured her, and you found that you were telling the truth. You didn’t mind not working on the project. Your reassurance seemed to make her feel better and she stood up as well, following you over to the tiny little love seat your roommate had managed to fit in front of the TV. As she sat down beside you, another roll of thunder rumbled through the room and she grabbed onto your arm, holding you tight.

“Sorry,” she said again, pulling away once she realized what she’d done. Quickly, you shook your head.

“It’s okay, you can hold onto me if you want if it’ll make you feel safer.”

She blushed deeper but nodded, slowly moving closer to you and grabbing your arm again. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. Now, what movie should we watch?”

The two of you ended up settling on a new cheesy romance movie from Netflix, and as you sat back into your seat, Chaeyoung leaned her head on your shoulder. Your heart skipped a beat and you glanced down at her for a moment, distracted from the opening scene.

She really did look cute like this. Had someone told you a month ago that you would be cuddling and watching a romantic movie with Chaeyoung, you would have laughed at them and scoffed at the idea. Now, you found that it wasn’t too bad. She smelled like rose perfume, and her skin was soft against yours. Her body vibrated as she let out a laugh at something on screen, and the sound made butterflies arrive in your stomach. Smiling a bit to yourself, you relaxed and let your body lean into hers as well.

As it turned out, cuddling with Chaeyoung was great. And you could totally get used to this.

[soobrat]

good for you || Vernon

𝕤𝕞𝕦𝕥,

t o  s k i p  s t r 8  t o  t h e  s m u t  l o c a t e  t h i s  d i v i d e r:

★ 𝔹𝕖 𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕪 ★:

dom!Reader

female reader again (sorry)

sub!Hansol being too much to handle

slight BDSM

mistress kink

kinda corny tbfh

((disclaimer: I took this from my Wattpad book which was from my previous Tumblr lol, although the story is cringy af this is one of my best smuts TO DATE))

"Hansol texted me yesterday, he's definitely into me." Kwon Eunbi twirled a strand of her hair and spoke obnoxiously loud. She had to ensure that you heard her. You could feel her and her two minion's eyes boring into you.

You were in college, but you felt as if you were stuck in some old school high school movie. A clique of three girls with the same name with crippling envy for you, the main protagonist.

The only thing left to do was to ignore them. You had already tried reasoning with them. Telling them and sometimes yourself that you did not like Hansol. Hell, you guys weren't even friends.

"Psst."

Your ears perked up at the sound. You quirk a brow. Was that aimed towards you?

"What was that?" Hwang, Jung, and Kwon Eunbi straightened up in their seats, searching for the source. You heard Kwon gasp and you instantly knew. You tried to ignore the fluttering feeling in the pit of your stomach. Your hopes were up, but you didn't want to acknowledge it.

You have no time for boys

You have no time for boys

You have no time for boys

Maybe you just had to repeat it for it to stick. You were about to graduate and you have exams coming up.

"Hey Vernon. Still coming over tonight?" Her voice was annoyingly high pitched. You tried to stop that burning sensation. Envy, ironically. You clenched your fists.

You. Have. No. Time. For-

"Hey! I'm talking to you ___."

That stupid voice. You sighed, the Eunbi's scoffed, Vernon chuckled.

"She's fucking annoying." Hwang spoke,

"Look, she's acting stuck up." then Jung.

Finally, you were getting worried that Kwon forebode them from talking. You never knew with Kwon Eunbi, she likes control.

"Not now, I'm studying." You were hoping a librarian or someone would come and tell all of them to shut up, but of course not. You had to go to the one college with a library that wasn't quiet. He walked towards you and came to kneel beside you.

"Just for a second, please?"

You cleared your throat, regaining your composure. You could feel his breath on your arm. You ignored the goosebumps that showed up. You smoothed your hand over your arm before finally looking at him.

"Can you just... C-come to my house later okay?" You nod as if you were trying to persuade him to agree. He didn't respond, instead continuing to pout and whine. You grab his face and force him to look you in the eye.

"You can wait until later." You're stern as you nod once more. You wait for him to nod before you remove your hands. Sucking in a deep breath, you hold it for a while as you returned to your textbook.

"What a show off." The Eunbi's brush you off and finally start minding their business.

Release.

Your limbs loosen up again. That was close.

The teachers always said to never stop studying until the day of the test, but this was overkill. You needed to find something to do before he showed up a your apartment. The words blurred together when you did anything reading related. Nothing seemed interesting on social media, and there were too many ads on cable TV.

It was obvious, nothing was going to keep your attention with him on your mind. You found yourself on the couch, refreshing your social media multiple times. You were just about to doze off when a knock sounded. You jolted up, heading straight for the door.

That would be embarrassing if you open it right then and there.

You took a breath, retracting your hand from the door knob.

You have no time for boys. Release some stress and kick him out. You have no feelings for him.

In one swift movement, you twist the door knob and swing open the door.

Fuck, you had feelings for him.

His hair wasn't parted like it usually was, it covering his eyebrows. His eyes were wide and softer than usual. He had on a loose fitting t-shirt that had a worn collar. Worn enough to show off his collar bones. You swallowed thickly, unable to look away.

"I know I look bad, but I'll be taking my clothes off anyways-" You gasp before pulling him in by his shirt and shutting the door.

"Stop shitting around Vernon."

"You almost went into dom-space today, didn't you?" Vernon inched closer to you slowly. You stay put, wanting to stand your ground. He was absolutely right.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Standing your ground was a bit hard when you were so obviously avoiding eye contact. He sighs as he reaches for your hand and brings it up to his right cheek.

Your mind goes slightly fuzzy as your cold hand melted against his warm face. He leaned into your touch and you felt your cheeks heat up.

"You're annoyingly clingy."

Vernon can feel your aura becoming more cold and rigid. He grinned as he took a step forward. He rests his forehead on yours, impish smile still on his face.

"Am I being a bad boy?"

A sharp inhale was drawn from you. He was such a tease. This is partly your fault. You shouldn't entertain him, it'll fuel the fire. You don't answer, instead you close your eyes.

"Punish me, please."

Your lips parted as you gasped silently. He hit a nerve and he knew it.

"I've been so needy all day mistress." His head moved to the crook of your neck. His soft kisses and breath on your neck sent shivers down your spine.

"Mistress please say something, I'm dying here-"

"Upstairs."

"What?"

You brush past him and strode up the stairs. Hansol hesitated for a moment. He bit his lip, watching you as you disappeared onto the second floor. His heartbeat picked up in speed, it was finally happening. Hansol felt like he was going to explode from pent up frustration.

Watching how you slowly get irritated as the Eunbi's picked on you, how you almost constantly look completely focused and determined no matter what you're doing. It made him desperately want to make you squirm.

At least, before he found out your kink. Hansol had no sexual feelings towards you before he found out. One day he annoyed you one too many times and you pinned him against the wall of the library. No one saw the fire inside your eyes in the remote corners of that library. Everyone only knew you as the reticent girl who distanced herself from anything that didn't have to do with her studies.

Not the girl got off on watching someone squirm under her damning dominance.

Hansol slowly pushed open the door to your bedroom. Your usually toys were scattered all over the bed. He placed his hand on the cock ring. That was new. Hansol could feel heat in his pelvic area. He clenched his thighs instinctively. It occurred to him only then that he didn't see you in the room.

Just as he was about to turn around, he heard the door shut. He grinned. Hansol's skin erupted in goosebumps when he felt your hands travel down his bare arms. You reach in front of him, gripping the hem of his t-shirt. You were about to peel it from his body, but you paused.

Hansol knew your were in dom-space when you were silent. He was always dying to know what was on your mind.

It made Hansol focus more on how you were making him feel. Like when you let go of his shirt and moved past it. You slid your cold fingers underneath his jeans. Hansol shuddered as your fingertips made contact with his lower abdomen only briefly before they moved under his pants.

You sighed, the first sound you'd made since you both got up here, when your fingers came in contact with his member. Hansol huffed and clenched his thighs. You pinch his thigh and Vernon gasped in surprise. He knew what it meant and he immediately reopened his legs.

You close your hand over his hard cock, relishing as he whimpered. Hansol opened his mouth to beg but you pinched him again. This was the hardest part, but Hansol knew he'd be rewarded for being good.

A few languid strokes through his boxers nearly made him forget about being rewarded. You look over his shoulder to watch your movements and how it made him squirm. Hansol knew he was doomed when you reached down further to cup his balls. His toes curled into the carpet and he took his lip in between his teeth. If he writhed or made anymore sound than what he was already doing, he could forget about cumming.

Deep breaths.

It was hard for you to hold in your smile. This is exactly what you wanted. You reveled in his sexual frustration. Words couldn't describe how tempting it was to give up and let him take you then and there.

However, that wouldn't be nearly as gratifying.

Hansol was holding up aggravatingly well. It was time to up the ante.

"Get on the bed."

Hansol shuddered and nodded. You step away from him and watch as he crawls up on the bed. He cleared a path through the toys and lied on his back in the middle.

The way he raised his arms over his head brought a small smile to your face. It was a good decision to leave his shirt on. This whole scene was beautifully submissive.

Kneeling on the bed, you grab the rope and secure Hansol's arms to the headboard. Your hands trail down his arms, to his torso, and landed at the hem of his pants again. This time you got rid of them. The speed at which you did so got Hansol excited. He was definitely about to be rewarded.

Hansol's thighs tense up as your rake your nails down them. His cock twitched whenever you got close enough. You enjoyed that reaction, triggering it many times until he began whimpering in protest.

"Are you ready to be rewarded?"

Hansol nodded eagerly. You sighed as if you weren't estatic to share this news you were about to share with him.

"That's too bad. I hope you're prepared for a new punishment."

"What? Why?"

Hansol knew when he heard you chuckle that he shouldn't have said anything.

"You and your big mouth." You tsk as you reach for the lube and squeeze some out on your hand. Hansol hissed when the gel made contact with his shaft.

It was the way you barely communicated with him and barely made contact that drove him crazy. He had to admit that it was an efficient punishment. Was it naughty for him to grind against your hand? He didn't know, but he didn't care. He tugged against his restraints, bottom lip raw from him nipping at it so much.

You noticed his breathing picking up and his eyes shutting suddenly, so you stopped. You quirked your eyebrow at him when you heard him groan.

"Are you agitated?" Hansol ignored you. Bad choice.

"Good thing you're being naughty. I've wanted to try these out for so long." You grab more rope and the cock ring. You smirk slyly to yourself. You pull both his legs straight and bound them to the bottom bed posts.

"You look so nice spread wide open to me." Your tongue swipes over your bottom lip as you examine him. His hair stuck to his forehead and his bottom lip swollen. Not to mention how fucking cute he was in that t-shirt.

With more lube on your hand, you moisten the cock ring and slide it over his shaft. His shaft began to throb when you secured the ring. The pent up frustration was driving him up the wall with no way to release it.

"Fuck you're driving me crazy."

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

He was frustrated, you could see and feel it. You smiled to yourself. Now he felt the way he made you feel all the time. Time to enjoy every second of his torture.

"I bet you want to be stimulated now, huh?" You look up at him with faux pity in your eyes. Hansol doesn't answer, only looks at you begrudgingly. You peel his cock from his stomach and start twisting both your hands around it. His aura shifts, something tells you he's ready to be good for you again.

Short puffs of breath hit his balls as your face hovered over them. He flinched each time it happened. It felt like it was a bit early for you to be getting so aroused, but you couldn't help it. The way he clenched his eyes shut and moaned uncontrollably. He sounded so sinful yet sweet. You had to stop yourself giving in once again.

The higher pitched moans omitting from him meant he was close.

"Please- I don't want to cum like this. Please mistress, I wanna be inside of you." Hansol's voice cracked as he begged. He was hiding his face but you could still see how pink his cheeks were and how his face contorted.

Tsk tsk tsk. He knew he wasn't supposed to beg or speak for that matter until you asked. You slowed down your movements considerably and loosened your grip a bit. He whined, back arching off the bed.

"Jesus fuck-" He nearly sobbed at the loss of sweet friction.

"Be a good boy."

"Fuck that-"

It was an understatement to say he was caught by surprise when you suddenly stuffed his cock down your throat. He gruntly loudly, bucking into your mouth the best that he could. This isn't what he meant by being inside of you, but it was good for now.

The skin was raw on his wrists but that didn't stop him from pulling against them again. He clenched his fists tightly causing numerous thick veins to pop out on his forearm. You lingered there, enjoying the sounds spilling from his lips. The lack of eye contact on your end frustrated him beyond belief, but he knew better than to voice it. He bit his tongue and focused on how warm and wet the inside of your mouth felt. His cock throbbed, threatening to spill into your mouth.

You finally remove his cock from your mouth. You make direct eye contact as you wipe the saliva from your mouth. He swallows hard.

"You like that? You can speak now."

"Yes."

You smirk. "Beg for it if you want it again." Hansol jumped at the opportunity.

"Please? I want to feel your mouth again so bad."

"That's not good enough."

"Please, please mistress! I want you to do it again, please!"

"Do what again?"

"Put my cock in your mouth please? Please suck my cock." You nearly moaned hearing him whine for you like that. He was close to his breaking point.

That was only one thing he wanted, but he didn't want to push it. You knew what the other thing was, though. You pick up his cock again, swirling your tongue around the tip. His moans sounded like they came from the depths of his body. You were barely touching him.

You started to suck on his tip. Only then did you look up at him. He whimpered, bucking again. You hold his hips down and sink your head 'til your nose hit his stomach. All while still staring into his eyes. His eyes rolled to the back of his head. His mouth gaping open with no sound coming out.

He felt a pulsing heat in his pelvic area as you bobbed your head. He was close. The pleasure was immeasurable but he wanted your cunt desperately. He clenched his fists again, trying to fight away his urge to cum. Taking deep breaths, biting his lip harshly and clenching his eyes shut were the measures he took. Sadly, to no avail.

"F-fuck I'm-" he doesn't even finish before you're pulling away completely. His cock bobbed as cum erupted from the tip. He whines and whimpers loudly as he finishes his ruined orgasm. His cock throbbed a few more times before it fell limp.

He threw his head back, letting it thud against the headboard.

"Fucking hell." He groaned

You shake your head at him as you untied him.

"That was fucked."

"You did it to yourself." You throw him a towel.

"Clean up and get out. I have shit to do."

"What, like study for the 80th time for one test?" He laughs teasingly.

"Shut the hell up." Your voice is threatening, but he doesn't flinch.

"Looks like you're still in dom-space. Hopefully it goes away before class tomorrow." He raised his eyebrows at the thought of your secret getting out.

"You know what? Hopefully it doesn't, so I can make you cum in your pants between classes and have to explain to the Eunbi's that you cum prematurely.~"

"Hey-" You wink at him and run out the room and slam the door before he could say anything.

[tenecity]

from haters to lovers; you zhangjing

library! au

cr: @aestheticninepercent

sooooo AFTER MUCH procrastination and wrecking of my brains i tHINK I FOUND SMTH TO HATE ABT zhangjing so here we go

SPECIAL THANKS TO @nine-prcnt @abziyi for GIVING ME THIS IDEA

soooo ure a librarian at yr local library

its like a summer job, just to kill time. plus, there's the aircon so its a perfect job. for the most part

until that one boy decides to come to the library

you knw him

everyone knows him bc he is so loud. its impossible not to notice him.

he comes in n ure alr hella pissed bc

a. he is shouting at the top of the voice

b. his grp of friends r equally noisy its sounds like hell broke loose

c. he is munching on a bag of chips

chips

cHIPS

DO U KNW HOW THOSE THINGS LEAVE CRUMBS EVERYWHERE

THEY GONNA ATTRACT MICE AND COCKROACHES UGHHHHHHHH

if looks cld kill, he wld alr be in the grave.

now, being the nice, polite person u r, u control yr anger and v nicely remind him of the rules.

"if u dont want to abide to them, sir, u r kindly requested to leave"

his doe eyes just look innocently at yrs

and u roll yr eyes, shoving him towards the exit and walk away, huffing in annoyance

but as soon as u turn yr back

THEY COME RIGHT BCK IN

ajjsbsjsjsjsjsjsj THEYRE SO ANNOYING

so u tell them, once again to leave

but his eyes still reflect that same innocence

"will u pls-"

"but i hvnt done anyth wrong." he cuts u off, tone simple, almost hurt

almost

and then u look at him and realise he's right. no potato chips and his friends r hardly making a noise

gritting yr teeth, u stalk off, annoyed tt he caught u off guard

for the next few weeks, he continuously turns up at the library

whether it is to annoy u or actl study and do some serious work, u hve no idea

the only thing u knw, is tt he never shuts up. no matter how many times u tell him to be considerate and be quiet, bc its a goddamn library he never listens. the moment u turn ur bck, his mouth opens again and nonsense sprouts out

how does one speak inccessantly for hours????????

AND THEN oml, one day he comes in and actl requests to be a librarian

yr head librarian finds his bubbly attitude cute so she passes him for the interview

?????okfine but tHEN SHE ATTACHES HIM TO U LIKE A TRAINEE-MENTEE THING GOD WHY

u roll yr eyes as u bring him arnd, showing him the diff sections

ure so focused, u dont even see how bored he is, and how hard he is trying to remember what ure saying.

but, yr words still end up blowing past his ears, not a single word goes in

which is why, he ends up placing the books in wrong sections, messing up everything and you have to clean up the mess every. single. time.

buttttt...... its not like u mind

bc every time he messes up, his sorry brown eyes, pouty lips that spill multiple apologies is enuf to make up for it

him bringing u to eat is a plUS

by the end of summer, u've gained like 7kg

and somehow, between bickering across the bookshelves, between the cup noodles and luncheon meat, between the pages and covers, u gained affection for him

u dont knw how either

i mean, quiet pple hang out with other quiet pple, u knw?

but his loudness is endearing, his constant mistakes make ur stomach hurt as you laugh at his adorable apologetic look.

his chocolate eyes are entrancing, his smile, blinding and completely heart stopping

but it's terrible

he will never like u bck

ure quiet, shy, introverted, cold and not the least bit humourous

ure pretty sure someone like him, wld want a person who is equally bubbly and loud and happy

as the leaves start to float down frm the trees, and the days get colder, u cont yr job as the assistant librarian, zhangjing tagging along, non stop chattering

it seems like he doesnt notice how quiet u've become, hardly even speaking a word now, smiles never exactly meeting the eye

bc the more u look at him, the more u feel yrself tipping over the edge; the more paranoid and upset u get, bc u knw this will b a one sided, impossible love.

that is of course until one day he finally realises theres something wrong

it was in the evening, a break for all the librarians before the next batch comes in at night to study

usually, u wld take this time to rearrange the books and thats exactly what ure doing.

walking down the first aisle whilst pushing the trolley, ure not exactly comprehending what zhangjing is saying as u try to distract yrself by focusing on finding the correct placing for the books.

as u chuck a book bck into its place, u suddenly realise how silent it is.

"zhangjing?" u peer through the gaps of the books, but he's not in the second aisle, like he's supposed to.

panic rising, u urgently call his name as u rush to the other aisle.

"BOO" he whisper-yells into yr ear, his body flushed against yr bck, arms wrapping arnd yr shocked figure.

you turned arnd, ready to b annoyed and roll yr eyes, but the sight before u causes u to freeze

the sunlight falls softly on his features, casting shadows at the all the right angles that emplify his sharp features. his eyes sparkling with cheekiness, his cheeks lightly flushed, his lips pouty and extremely inviting.

you gulp and pull away, but zhangjing's not hving it

he firmly pushes yr shoulders bck, knocking them against the bookshelf, hands planted right next to yr forehead, trapping u between him and the wooden shelf.

"u've been ignoring me."

"no, i hvnt." u swallow hard, looking away, blush creeping up yr neck

"yes u hve. u dont even knw what i was talking abt just now, right?"

ur eyes focus on the floor, neither denying nor acknowledging it.

"what's wrong? why r u ignoring me? did i do smth wrong-"

"zhangjing, u didnt do anything wrong-"

"then why r u ignoring me? i invited u to eat with me thrice last week, and u didnt even accept at least one of them! u hardly pay attention to anything i say, and u hve that mournful look on yr face like someone just died! oh wait shit unless...did someone in yr family pass away? oh shit im so sorry-"

"my family's fine, zhangjing will be quiet for once?"

he opens his mouth again, abt to continue his rant when you decide to seal his lips with yr own

honestly, its a relief to finally cave in to yr desire to shower zhangjing with all the love u hve for him

emotions of the past two seasons flow through yr body and pass through yr lips, conveying the message of "i love u" through that one, light, gentle kiss.

u pull away, face flushed, eyes shyly looking up and they make contact with a shocked zhangjing.

"zhangjing?" a girl's voice travels down the aisle, light and delicate.

he hastily pulls his arms to his side, head turning as he sees his girlfriend at the edge of the aisle.

he looks despairingly, eyes shifting between u and the other girl

the word that passes through yr lips drive a dagger through yr gut, but u maintain the smile on yr face.

"go."

and he goes, causing the invisible string, that once connected the two of you together, to snap, as he walks further and further away; the recoil causing u to stumble bck, tears flowing down yr cheeks in a gentle stream as u nurse the pain deep in yr heart.

[iamvegorott]

Emotions

I had this sudden idea for a story when I was writing Attention with how I wrote Dark's personification of his emotions. I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Annoyance. Frustration. Anger. Emotions that Dark understands and can easily work with, but when he starts to learn about the other ones he has, things being to change. 

Emotions

Dark adjusted his tie in the hallway’s full-length mirror. He felt nothing as he did so, he was just on auto-pilot. Dark was used to not feeling anything. That’s who he was. He was a demon. A creature from another dimension with the sole purpose of destroying the ones who have caused him harm, who have put him in this form in the first place. He had no time to deal with emotions. He had work to do.

After straightening his jacket he held his hands behind his back and left the hallway, heading to the kitchen since it was the connection between where he was and the library. He stopped when he saw the Jims on the kitchen floor. The reporter was messing with an Ouija board while the cameraman looked very scared and uncomfortable.

“Demons, Jim!” The reporter shouted as he flailed his body into the air. Dark felt something press into the back of his head as the two stared at him before taking off, leaving the Ouija board behind with salt all over the ground as well. The pressure was still there as he cleaned up the twins’ mess. It was a feeling he was used to with the people he lived with.

Annoyance.

“Hey, Dark! How’s my demon?” Wilford greeted loudly as he slapped at Dark’s back, seeing that the man had his sleeves rolled up as he washed the salt off of his hands.

“We need to inform the Jims, once again, that salt will not make the demon go away. It only annoys him to a severe degree.” Dark growled as he turned off the sink. He nodded thanks as Wilford handed him a towel.

“You know it’s not you that they’re trying to make leave, it’s the ‘ghost’ of the house.” Wilford chuckled, laughing a little more when Dark tossed the towel at him.

“You really need to stop with your pranks on them. It’s a nuisance to everyone in the house.” Dark stated, returning his sleeves back to their proper place.

“I just wanna have some fun with the chums.” Wilford leaned close to Dark and flashed a smile that made the demon feel a little warmth in his stomach. Dark never understood what that feeling was or what to assign the emotion with, he always assumed it was just nothing and he easily ignored the warmth before putting his hand on Wilford’s face and pushing him away.

“You can have fun without causing the Jims to constantly panic,” Dark said as he walked out of the room, the warmth returning a little when he head Wilford’s light-hearted laugh.

Dark sat in the library, casually reading a mystery novel he ended picking up by mistake when he was searching for another. He found himself pulled into the fictional world and was reading a very climactic part when there was a loud ‘thud’ above him as if something was dropped. Dark looked up, sighed and returned to his reading, starting the page over so he could get back into the scene properly. He was about to learn who the killer was when there was another loud ‘thud’. This time Dark lowered the book and glared at the ceiling for a good while before going back to the book again, once again having to start over because he couldn’t just read the killer’s name without the build-up, it ruined the fun. Dark had started learning the killer’s motive when a long string of ‘thuds’ cut him off for the third time. Dark slammed the book shut and stormed out of the library and towards the stairs. There was a tight pinching in his stomach and head as he took the steps two at a time. This was an emotion he also knew very well.

Frustration.

“What are you do-” Dark threw open the door to the room and stopped his yelling when he saw what was causing the sounds. Bim Trimmer was standing on his bed, wearing his white shirt, blazer, and tie, but missing the slacks that went the ensemble, showing off his white and red spotted boxers. The show host was holding a cardboard tube and the stuffed animals lying all around the room told Dark all that he needed to know.

“I-”

“Nope.” Dark didn’t give Bim even a second to explain himself before he shut the door, turning away from it. He could feel his face burning up a little, along with his chest and stomach. This was something he rarely felt.

Embarrassment.

Dark wasn’t embarrassed himself, he felt embarrassment for Bim. He knew how awkward that had to be for the other man. Dark shook his head and headed back to the library. Why was he feeling embarrassed for Bim? Why was he wasting energy on feeling something for someone? He barely allowed himself to have emotions on his own, why have it for others? Wilford referred to it as ‘sympathy’ and Dark stated that it was a ‘waste of time’. Sympathy, empathy, who cares? No one cared for him, he shouldn’t care for others. It was as simple as that.

“Dark! Dark!” Dark turned his head and saw that the Jims were running towards him.

“Don’t you have some news to report or something?” Dark sighed, feeling annoyance come back and taking over what remained of the second-hand embarrassment.

“Wilford left!” Reporter Jim yelled.

“Wilford can leave when he wishes.”

“He took his shooty!”

“He takes his gun everywhere.”

“He was mad!” That statement made Dark stiffen. He knew what it meant when Wilford left angry. Either someone was going to die or someone was going to come very close to it and Wilford had no grasp on the concept of death, he needed someone else there to clean up the mess and make sure he didn’t go insane or at least more insane than what he already was. “You told us to report to you when that happens, right?” Jim’s question was ignored as Dark felt out of his body, slowly stretching further and further away until he found Wilford’s aurora. The strong scent of bubblegum and gunpowder filled his nose before Dark suddenly vanished.

“Hey, buddy. There’s no need to get violent...yet.” Dark heard Wilford chuckle. He found himself at the edge of an empty warehouse.

“How the fuck did you get in here!?” A man screamed.

“Just give me my-”

“Don’t take another step!” Dark turned around and saw that a group of men was standing in front of Wilford, the one in front holding a gun towards Wilford. Pointing his gun at him. Dark didn’t have time to question how that happened before he started heading over to the others.

“Who are you!?” The man was now aiming the gun at Dark. A large smirk played on Dark’s lips, he was excited to see that man’s face when he tore that gun out of his hands. The horror in his eyes as he held him in the air by his neck, cutting off his ability to breathe and forcing him to try to claw Dark’s hand away and kick his legs out in a helpless fight.

“Now, don’t you be pointing that at my friend. That’s-”

Everything stopped when the loud bang of the gun filled the air. Everything went quiet as Wilford fell towards the ground. Everything moved slowly when Wilford landed, blood splattering. A silent scream came out of Dark’s mouth as he sprinted over to Wilford. His heart raced. His chest ached. His head wailed as he felt a strong urge to vomit. What was this? What was this terrible feeling? Why did it hurt so much?

Fear.

Dark was scared. He was terrified. His very soul was crying out as he reached the only person he truly called ‘friend’. Dark fell to his knees, seeing the hole below Wilford’s collarbone. Dark could tell that tears were threatening to fall when Wilford mouthed his name, attempting to lift his hand, but failing. Dark hated this emotion. This emotion hurt. He hated it so much.

Dark quickly pressed his hands on to the wound. This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t real. Wilford did not get hurt. Wilford did not get shot. This isn’t real. It can’t be. This has to be a lie. Dark swallowed thickly before sliding his hands away, letting out the breath he didn’t know he was holding when he saw that the hole was closed. He had never been so thankful for his magical abilities.

“I shot him! Holy fuck I shot him!” The man’s cries broke Dark away from his fear. Something else began to take over. A strong burning filled his entire body. Boiling in the pit of his stomach and flowing up through his throat and into his head. Dark slowly stood and faced the group of men. This emotion he knew. This emotion he understood. This emotion he was all too glad to work with.

Anger.

“You have made the worst mistake of your lives,” Dark said, voice becoming distorted. His aura began to grow, the red engulfing the blue, stretching out to form its own tendrils. “ANd YoUr LaSt.” Dark didn’t usually like to get his hands dirty but he easily willing to go against that. He was excited to. The red aura started to shadow over the now screaming men. They took off towards the exit, screaming, even more, when Dark was suddenly in front of them, cutting them off. They turned around and ran to only be cut off again, the aura now completely covering them. One tried to push through the aura but cried out when it burned his hand. Dark slowly walked towards the man who fired the gun. He was now sobbing, filled with the fear Dark had just felt. Good.

“No, no!” The man wailed as Dark reached for him. “I don’t wanna die!” He pleaded as he was grabbed by the throat and lifted into the air. Dark felt a rush of adrenaline coursed through him. Dark was getting what he wanted. The man cried and begged for something he was not going to keep. He was going to lose something he could not get back.

“And my friend didn’t want to be shot,” Dark emphasized the last word by punching his hand through the man’s stomach. Dark usually hated the feeling of blood on his hands. He was more of a man of words. He wanted them to control the people, to make them do whatever he wanted and would send others to end them but at the moment. The blood felt lovely on his skin.

“D...Dark.” The weak call of his name snapped Dark out of his craze. He dropped the dying man to the ground. The aurora falling at the same pace as the body. “Dark.”

“Wilford.” Dark rushed over to Wilford, quickly scooping him up into his arms.

“Dark...I-”

“Hush.” Was all Dark said before vanishing, leaving the men trapped in the warehouse since he took the ability to open the door or break the windows away.

Dark landed in the center of their kitchen, scaring Bim enough to make him toss his mug into the air, the shattering glass scaring him even more.

“Dark?”

“Get Dr. Iplier, right now and send him to Wilford’s room,” Dark ordered, sounding calmer than he felt as he walked away from the stunned show host.

“Can we help?” The Jims asked as they followed Dark.

“Water,” Dark stated, hearing the twins repeat the word and run off. Dark used his foot to open Wilford’s door, the bright pink was a startling contrast to the dark hallway, but Dark was used to it at this point and he laid Wilford down on his bed, adjusting the pillows to make sure that the man was comfortable. He gently removed Wilford’s bowtie and sat it on his bedside table before unbuttoning the yellow top, removing it from the man’s body so he could get a better look at the wound. It was still closed. Dark ran a thumb over it to make sure before going down to Wilford’s feet and removing his shoes, setting them neatly together at the end of the bed.

“How is everything?” Dr. Iplier asked as he entered the room, holding a bucket filled with water and multiple rags.

“The wound is closed, but he lost a lot of blood,” Dark answered, stepping back to give the doctor space as he placed his fingers on Wilford’s neck.

“Water!” The Jims yelled, holding five glasses of water each.

“Thank you Jims, set them on the desk please.” Dr. Iplier said after he sat down and dipped one of the rags into the bucket.

“Do you need anything else?” Reporter Jim asked.

“We’re all good here, thank you again.” Dr. Iplier strung out any extra water and began cleaning off the blood while the Jims nodded happily and left. “Eccentric boys, aren’t they?” Dr. Iplier chuckled softly, glancing a look over at Dark, seeing the blood that was starting to dry. “Are you injured as well? Or does that belong to another?”

“I’m fine,” Dark said, voice soft and monotoned.

“Do you need to talk? You sound off.” Dr. Iplier lifted Wilford’s arm, wiping the rag down the man’s side.  

“I’m fine.” Dark repeated in the same tone.

“I might be a terrible doctor, but I’m a great listener.” Dr. Iplier joked, getting a new rag and wetting it as well.

“You’ve improved,” Dark commented.

“I can thank you for that. I think the bruise on my wrist is still there from you.” Dr. Iplier laughed at the memory. “I didn’t expect you to get so angry when is misdiagnosed Wilford with the common cold instead of pneumonia.” Dr. Iplier sat the wet rag down and took a dry one. “It’s almost as if you care for the man.” The doctor teased the demon, giving him a wink.

“I don’t care.”

“Yeah, sure you don’t.” Dr. Iplier clicked his tongue and stood up. “His pulse is even, there’s wasn’t too much blood compared with what has been lost in the past. He’ll be fine. No need to worry.”

“I’m not-”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dr. Iplier waved his hand as he left, closing the door behind him.

Dark let out a huff before taking the desk’s chair and setting it next to the bed, taking a seat and watching Wilford. Was he worried? Did he really care about Wilford? Dark didn’t care about anyone, that’s how he worked, that’s how he got things done. But to feet fear when he believed Wilford to be gone? To have pure anger in him towards the one who caused Wilford pain? He’s has been known to be protective of Wilford, to go out of his way to make sure the other man was okay. But that was just because of, what others called, their friendship. Dark wasn’t entirely sure what they were. He remembered referring to Wilford as his friend when he got shot but that was most likely just the heat of the moment. Right?

Dark looked at Wilford’s face and saw that a stray hair was on it. Dark unconsciously leaned over and brushed it aside, hand pausing to feel the warmth of Wilford’s cheek. A similar warmth, one that has kept bothering him, formed in his stomach. What was this? What was this strange feeling of something fluttering inside of him? Dark couldn’t prevent a small smile from forming as Wilford hummed softly and shifted his head to it was now being cradled by Dark’s hand.

Joy.

Dark quickly snatched his hand back and fully sat back down in the chair. Why did he get so happy? How did that make any sense? He was not a happy person. He did not get happy. Why did Wilford doing something as simple as that fill him with joy? Dark noticed that his face was heating up. He wasn’t embarrassed. There was no need to. What else could cause a heat to the face?

Wilford’s hand twitching caught his attention. Dark had a sudden urge to hold it and he gave in without much resistance. It was just a hand. It meant nothing. He started off by just resting his fingertips on top of Wilford’s palm, slowly moving them and feeling every line and the smooth and soft texture of it. He then slowly and gently wrapped his finger around the hand, his thumb rubbing against Wilford’s wrist. More heat began building up. But it wasn’t the heat Dark was used to associating with the emotions he’s been able to name. Anger had a heat to it, but that heat was harsh, it burned, it fueled him to act out. This heat was...pleasurable? It felt good to have this heat. He’s had little doses of it before and he just assumed that is was nothing, that it was just his body adjusting to the room’s temperature or something. Why did it only happen when Wilford was around then? That question made several different emotions flow through Dark.

Care.

Affection.

Joy.

Desire.

L-

Dark felt his body become even warmer when he finally realized what emotion that heat was attached to. But it couldn’t be. There was no way that it was that. He could never feel that emotion. Even though he believed those other emotions were impossible for him as well but here he was, feeling all of them at once as he looked at the man next to him. Dark felt the words bubbling up in his throat and they escaped before he could stop them.

“I love you.” Dark froze when he saw Wilford smile.

“I know.”

“Wil!” Dark stood up when the man spoke.

“Hey, buddy.” Wilford greeted, voice a little hoarse. “Took you long enough to admit it.” Wilford swallowed at Dark just stared in shock. “You mind getting me one of those glasses of water?”

“You knew!?” Dark finally snapped now knowing what first-hand embarrassment felt like.

“I mean, sort of.” Wilford cleared his throat. “I had a feeling that you at least liked me a little. Wasn’t expecting you to spill your guts out to me on my deathbed though.” Wilford chuckled weakly. “But seriously, some water would be great.”

“I’m assuming Wilford is awake?” Dr. Iplier asked as he opened the door. “Is everything fine?”

“Yep. Dark’s my boyfriend now and I would really like some water.” Wilford’s statement was answered with sputters from Dark and a laugh from Dr. Iplier as he fetched one of the glasses and handed it to Wilford.

“Thanks.” Wilford downed the entire glass, letting out an ‘ah’ when he finished. Dr. Iplier took the glass, checked Wilford’s pulse again and smiled.

“Call me if you need anything.” Dr. Iplier said before stepping back out.

“So, wanna hear how I ended up there?” Wilford asked and Dark sat back down.

“But-” Dark stopped when Wilford took his hand.

“You’re my demon boyfriend and as my demon boyfriend, you have to listen to my stories.” Dark opened his mouth to protest but stopped when Wilford began telling his tale anyways. He just settled down and listened to his friend...boyfriend talk. The warmth staying in his chest and he no longer questioned it. Knowing what it was and never wanting it to go away.

[cryingbilldenbrough]

*whispers* I heard this is the place so go to talk about sad Bill Denbrough? So: I wish more people talked about how Depressed Bill is. Like even before IT/after he forgets, he's been bullied all his life for something he can't control (stuttering), he's grieving for his brother, he's dealing with guilt over Georgie s death, he's dealing with neglect from his parents/them subtly blaming him.. .. why do we not talk about this more?! I cry. More fics and headcanons need to address this ya feel

1. LMAO where did u hear that? i mean you’re right but god i cannot believe my reputation precedes me so much? 

2. ok u wanna talk sad bill denbrough? let’s talk sad bill denbrough!

bill turns 18 on a snowy day in december. 

it’s cold in his dorm room, dusty and hazy with morning light. there’s frost on the windowpane, slanting the light into fractal pieces and bill sits up to brush his finger through the ice. it burns a little, in comparison to skin that’s been bundled up under bill’s three blankets for the entirety of the night, but bill has always loved the cold. 

bill sits up in bed and stretches, shivering and watching his breath waft out of his mouth in a fog. he leans over flicks on the heat, rubbing his hands together.

there’s no fanfare. his roommate must have stayed over at his girlfriend’s house last night because his bed is mussed but empty. there’s no note, no text telling bill he’s coming back later. it’s saturday morning and bill is spending another birthday alone. 

it’s certainly not the first. bill remembers hazily spending a lot of his birthdays on his own, but he can’t quite remember why. was it because his parents were out of town? hmm, that must have been it. there’s no other explanation. 

he finally climbs out of bed, shuffling to the bathroom to jump in the shower. he turns the water as hot as it’ll go but it’s still too cold. the pipes groan and the water pressure is shitty and bill longs for the days when he could take hour-long showers. 

well. it’s less longing and more a want to be back on schedule. because somehow bill remembers taking long showers at least once a week when he lived back home, turning on the water hot enough to steam the entire room in moments and sitting down in the corner of the tub and letting it beat down over him. he doesn’t know how long he used to stay in there, letting the water turn his skin an angry red, but he can almost feel the needling water mixing in with salty tears. he remembers opening his mouth wide and swallowing the burning water from the faucet, hoping to fill himself up, to let the heat enter his body and warm his insides and fill all his nooks and crannies that felt gaping and open. 

bill’s suddenly blinking back tears, assaulted by a sadness he doesn’t understand. 

they’re only there for a moment and then the lukewarm water is washing them away, down the drain. bill finishes his shower with a lingering pain in his chest, a lump in his throat that wont go away no matter how hard he swallows. 

his mom doesn’t call. 

it’s not like bill really expected her to, but he’s disappointed nonetheless. he thinks it maybe would have been nice to hear her voice for the first time in a few months and he’s pretty sure she didn’t forget today was his birthday because it’s his Golden Birthday, turning 18 on the 18th. 

the phone doesn’t ring. it sits on his roommate’s desk and stays silent as bill dresses and brushes his teeth and makes a quick breakfast. 

he tries to linger on getting ready, to convince himself he’s doing anything other than just waiting for his parents to call, but it’s all a lie. it’s nearing noon when bill sighs and gives up, giving the beige rotary phone one last lingering glance before he leaves, locking the door to his cold room behind him. 

he decides to spend the rest of the day in the library. 

the stacks are warm, familiar and bursting with the heavy scent of paper and ink, and bill pulls up a seat at one of the study tables to write. 

the building is empty today, quiet and peaceful on a saturday afternoon. bill climbs up to the second floor, to a balcony that overlooks the entire library. sunlight filters in through large high-up windows and bill borrows a pen from the front desk and cracks open his notebook to work on his latest short story. the balcony is full of students and adults alike, each caught up in their lives, and bill lets their quiet sounds of work soothe him into his own. 

he gets lost in the writing, letting the world around him fade to dull muted tones as he crafts characters and plots and by the time he drifts back to reality the sun has set behind the windows and shrouded the library in flickering fluorescent light. he cracks his knuckles and then his neck and dares to take a peek around at the other patrons.

it’s down to just him and one other boy, a kid with sandy blonde hair who’s tucked in at a desk in the corner. his head is bent over the desk, writing lazily on a set of blueprints and bill wants to get closer, to get involved in the other student’s work but that would be rude and bill doesn’t even know where the thought comes from. 

he’s just about to pack it in, to deem this another saturday wasted and spent alone in his own head when a loud crash from downstairs startles him. he snaps his head up, looking over the side of the balcony down to find the source of the sound. out of the corner of his eye he sees the boy in the corner look to, getting up out of his desk chair in a flash to survey.

the downstairs is quiet. from where bill’s sitting he can see there’s nobody at the front desk, no friendly librarian sitting on a cushy chair and checking in books. 

in fact, the entire building seems empty. it’s a ghost town other than him and the boy in the corner and there’s this uneasy feeling in bill’s stomach, a jolt of fear that feels familiar and damning and so so right at the same time. it’s a rush of adrenaline and memory of the taste of copper in his mouth. 

bill turns to look at the boy and there’s something familiar in his eyes too, a recollection of some sort that bill doesn’t quite get. 

there’s another crash from downstairs, almost like the sound of glass breaking, and bill’s out of his seat now. he walks with purpose towards the edge of the balcony, grabbing hold of the banister with white-knuckle fingers. the other boy is close behind, coming up on bill’s right side to peer over the side. bill feels distantly that it’s right to have this boy at his side, that it’s good and familiar to turn his head and see someone at his shoulder, awaiting command. 

it’s a strange feeling and bill shakes it off. 

he’s just about to ask the boy what he thinks about going downstairs when another sound rings out.

it’s different this time. 

because bill swears he hears a balloon pop. 

it’s an impossible sound, but unmistakable. it’s startling and unexplainable and for some reason fucking terrifying. bill can feel his hands shaking and there’s a trembling on his tongue, the feeling of a silent stutter working its way to the front of his mouth and there’s this split second when bill remembers. 

the clown and the sewers and georgie and his friends and their power and his internal compass is going wild, pointing in all these different directions and bill is disoriented and dizzy and faint and the fluorescent lights seem to be flickering and there’s a draft at the back of his neck that makes all the hair on his skin stand up on end. 

he blinks and the moment is over. the boy at his back is a stranger and the librarian is back sitting behind her desk. bill can see her now, knitting needles in her hands as she hums absentmindedly and when bill tries to recall the sight of the empty chair a moment ago, he comes up empty. it’s like he climbed out of his seat in alarm for no reason. like he imagined the last ten minutes. 

he turns and the boy at his back is gone, retreating down the stairs with heavy bootfalls and bill watches him go with a melancholy kind of feeling, like he missed something. 

bill packs up his stuff, feeling a little ill, and walks home in the cold, feet freezing in his worn boots. 

his roommate is still gone when he gets home, bed made now as if he’s come back in the middle of the day just to make his bed and remind bill how alone he is. 

bill heats up dinner and reads a book and tries not to think about calling home, about dialing his parents’ number and being sent to voicemail and having to stutter out an explanation for his call past the lump in his throat. 

he turns to the bookshelf and grabs down his picture of georgie, the last thing bill has kept from home. it’s old and dusty and the picture is frayed a little in the corner but it’s georgie and bill can’t bring himself to throw it away. he always gets a little teary when he looks at it, a little sad over his brother who was taken too soon in some way that bill cant honestly remember tonight, and this night is no exception. bill runs his fingers over his brother’s gap-toothed smiling face and lets the tears run down his cheeks

“happy birthday, bill,” he whispers to himself, broken and stutter-free and somber. there’s no response, no echo to his spoken pain, and bill falls asleep with tears drying on his cheeks and his brother’s picture sitting on his bedside table. 

send me prompts/headcanons/requests!