Once Keith overslept and walked into the dinning room in his boxers and one of Lance’s shirts. The shirt was slipping off his shoulder and he had such messy bed head that Lance had to leave he looked so cute. Hunk agreed and couldn’t stop hugging him all day.
Their clothes sometimes get mixed up when they’re summoned for an emergency in the middle of the night. Obi-wan emerges in Anakin’s too-big black shirt, sleeve slipping off one shoulder. Padme almost looks like she’s wearing a dress in Obi-wan’s robes. And Anakin stumbles through the door with a scandalous amount of leg showing as the hem of Padme’s nightdress swishes around the tops of his thighs.
“I love it when you wear my clothes,” Dean said with a smirk, his eyes raking over your body as you walked into the bedroom you and him shared, one of his T-shirts hanging loosely off your shoulders. You smiled, looking down at the hem that almost reached your knees and the “short sleeves” that brushed your elbows, while you padded over to the bed with silent steps, then allowed Dean to pull you onto his lap. His hands automatically settled on your hips. “In fact,” he pushed a piece of hair behind your ear, “I think you should just wear this from now on.”
You raised your eyebrows. “Just this?” you asked. Dean nodded his head, you shot him a wicked grin. “Well, I think that might be a little awkward … ” this time it was Dean who raised his eyebrows, “considering I’m not wearing anything underneath.”
Dean let out a guttural sound and had you flipped on your back in a second, his strong body hovering over yours and caging you in. His eyes flicked down to your bare legs where your shirt had slid up. “Oh, you should definitely just wear this,” Dean said, and before he could say anymore you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down for a bruising kiss. His body was a comforting weight against your own as he ran his hands along your smooth legs and under the hem of your shirt, wrapping them around your waist to pull you impossibly closer. Your back arched into his touch and your head fell back. You let out a shuttering breath as he trailed his lips along your neck and traveled lower.
Maybe you could just wear this from now on … or nothing at all.
*These gifs are not mine, both the gifs are from Google Images*
lafayette: cute matching set with moons and stars and clouds on a light blue background
hercules: only wears pajama bottoms bc hes a fucking furnace. pink with a cartoon cat print
laurens: sweats that have paint stains
alexander: whatever he happens to be wearing when he collapses. if he actually changes, it’s one of hercules’ shirts (they slide off his shoulder it’s cute) and boxers and socks. everyone thinks its weird that he wears socks to bed. they stop complaining when alex forgoes socks and his feet are FREEZING
Seungcheol runs a hand through his sweaty hair (Jeonghan does not find that frustrated look paired with that move really hot, he does not) as he continues, impatience colouring his tone. “If only there was some way to get you to really… feel…” He glances at Jeonghan and trails off, a dazed look suddenly taking over his face.
Jeonghan, completely unaware of how debauched he looks with his baggy shirt sliding off one shoulder, mussed up hair, red cheeks and slightly glassy eyes, simply raises an eyebrow from his position down on the floor and coughs loudly to get his leader’s attention back down to earth (it had nothing to do wanting to break the oddly loaded atmosphere that had suddenly surrounded them). It does the job but he isn’t prepared for the look that is suddenly directed his way, heated and very unlike the usual one his leader throws his way, a look that makes him want to squirm away from it. He manages to keep his expression impassive and hopes that the flush he feels creeping up his neck is mistaken as the residual heat from overexertion.
this is tiny lil excerpt number 2 because school’s being really annoying and i have no time to write
also, dedicating this one to @killua-cchi because i saw you reblogged my last one and it made my day :’)
y/n woke up the next morning still dressed in her clothes from the previous day, her eyes sore, emotions weighing thin as she sat up in the foreign bed. All she could be thankful for at the moment was that it was a Saturday morning and nothing, at the moment, required her attention. She quickly stripped off yesterday’s clothes, rummaging through her bag for clean underwear, shorts, and one of her Def Leppard shirts that hung loosely off her shoulders from having the collar cut off. The last thing she wanted to do was go downstairs and meet her new family, being saved from that moment when they returned from the hospital having only her and Daryl be home, she retreated to the spare room and slept through the night.
Quietly, making her way down the stairs, she could hear two voices coming from the kitchen, figuring this was the safest place to go to grab something to eat since she hadn’t eaten since the morning before.
“Good morning,” a woman stated, a bright smile on her face, a heaping amount of food placed in front of her. “How’d you sleep?”
“Alright,” y/n muttered out, not really sure how to take on the woman who must be her father’s wife. “I…what do you want me to call you?” she asked blatantly, but it was a valid question. Was this woman technically her step-mom? Did she want to be called mom?
“Karen’s fine, hon. Come eat, you must be famished.” The girl nodded slightly taking a seat next to the only other person in the kitchen, a boy with bright red hair and piercing green eyes that bore holes into her skin as he stared her into oblivion. “This is Michael, my son…and your half-brother.” Y/n looked towards him, tongue poking out slightly to wet her lips before sticking her hand out politely. She watched as he looked down to her hand before looking back to her face, quickly sliding off the chair heading upstairs, a sigh escaping Karen’s lips. “I’m sorry about him.”
“It’s fine. I’ve kind of intruded on his life,” she responded taking a plate stacking two pancakes and some bacon onto is, Karen watching her carefully as Michael returned moments later fully dressed, snapback reversed on his head.
“I’m going out with the guys.”
“You just got back from being with them an hour and a half ago. Why don’t you boys just stay here?” Karen asked watching Michael stiffen up slightly. Y/n could just feel his gaze on her once again, choosing to ignore it and continue eating.
“Do I have an option?” Michael asked just as a knock came to the front door, Michael going to answer it revealing a blonde with glasses and a killer smile. “Hey, Ash.”
“Hey. Hey misses Clifford,” he said smiling slightly as he walked into the house, the door shutting behind him as he placed his hands in his pockets, his eyes making their way towards the other girl in the kitchen clearly confused for a moment before remembering Michael’s conversation from the night before. His eyes raked over her body as subtly as he could noting how effortlessly beautiful she was, knowing she most likely had just awoken. “And you’re Michael’s sister, right?” she nodded her head as he continued into the house, Michael’s jaw clearly tensing from aggravation.
“Y/n,” Karen spoke out for her as Ashton sat on the chair next to her, Michael leaning up against the wall watching them.
“Y/n, great to meet you. I’m Ashton,” he said holding out his hand to shake hers as she watched him carefully before returning the gesture. “Do you have any plans for the day?”
“Ashton,” Michael warned the blondish boy who clearly ignored his friend’s warning, his dimpled smile not leaving his lips.
“I…no,” she responded stumbling around her words, his smile only growing.
“Why don’t you join us? I think we’re just taking a run to one of the music shops in town for a bit before going back to one of our friend’s places.” She hesitated, looking back and forth between Michael and Ashton before shaking her head, a polite smile on her face as she declined his offer.
“I should really get myself settled in. Maybe next time,” she muttered before returning to her pancakes noting he had yet to stand up from his spot on the chair.
“Alright, well, next time then,” he said before turning to Michael’s mom having a conversation with her, y/n shutting them all out just wanting to go back upstairs and out of the awkward situation. She hadn’t even notice Karen and Michael leave the room until Ashton handed her a piece of paper with a number scrawled out in chicken scratch. “I know how it is to start over completely. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call or text me, alright?” she nodded looking towards him watching as he flashed his signature dimpled smile before walking off towards the front door just as Michael resurfaced. The moment the two boys stepped out, Melani stepped in with another entire folder, Daryl following in right behind with a tray of coffees in his hand.
“Oh, wonderful, you’re awake,” Melani said with a small smile on her face. “This should only talk about half an hour, alright?” the two of them making their way into the kitchen, Daryl placing the tray of coffees down handing one to y/n.
“I wasn’t sure what kind of brew you enjoyed, so I got it black. There’s cream and milk in the fridge and sugar is on the counter by the sink,” he explained, the female taking it from him drinking it as is.
“It’s perfect, thank you,” she responded, Melani pulling out a few papers as she sat next to the young girl.
“Why’d you invite her?” Michael pestered his friend as they made their way to the music shop in town like planned, now almost half an hour late since Ashton had decided to make his way inside the Clifford household.
“Because I know how it feels to start over completely and be thrown into a new situation with no other choice, no support, no friends by your side…besides, your glaring just completely knocked off her answer. You pretty much intimidated her into saying no,” Ashton retorted pulling into the spot right next to Calum’s car. “You may not like it, but she’s your sister by blood. It’s not even like she’s your stepsister. She shares your DNA.”
“She the product of my dad’s whorish decisions.” Ashton sighed running a hand through his hair before turning his car off.
“You act like she chose to be conceived. Give her the benefit of the doubt, Mike. She looked so vulnerable and scared today. You don’t even know what she’s been through.” Both boys escaped the rising tension inside the car, walking up the steps to the shop.
“Then why don’t you get to know her? Because I really have no intentions of doing so, Ash,” Michael said back to his friend leaving Ash stunned by the front of the store. But, that’s exactly what Ashton had in mind. Someone had to accept her. He figured it would be best if it was him, as well, considering they shared a bit more in common than her and Michael probably did; Michael coming from a family where he was used to being an only child, his parents being together his entire life while Ashton, on the other hand, had never met his biological father and had two half siblings, whom he cared for greatly.
“What took the two of you so long?” Calum questioned his two friends as he continued to try out different basses trying to see which one felt right to him.
“Ashton decided he wanted to meet y/n,” Michael responded looking through the different selections of guitars.
“Oh, cool. Is she as awful as Michael lets on?” Luke questioned having already picked out the guitar he wanted, as well as a few more pics to compensate for the ones he had lost in his brother’s room.
“Not nearly. She seemed nervous,” Ash responded picking up a new pair of drumsticks knowing he could never have enough, especially if another incident like yesterday occurred where he lost one out the window of the garage. He felt a vibration in his pocket from his phone, pulling it out spotting an unrecognized number assuming it was y/n since he hadn’t given his number out recently.
Y/n: Thanks for reaching out. It’s greatly appreciated.
Ashton smiled to himself before typing a quick response.
Ash: Of course y/n. Someone needs to. So…tell me about yourself.
You ran your fingers through your hair, trying to get it to
lie flat. You grabbed the brush and gave up, choosing to put your hair in a
ponytail. Jin hugged you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder, and
watched you through the mirror. He had that morning-after glow that he always
got after an amazing night. He was so sexy; especially in the morning. You
loved his bedhead and his bare face. Jin looked you over in the mirror,
admiring how his large shirt hung off of your body. His t-shirt hung off of one
of your shoulders, exposing a bit of skin. He wondered how open you would be to
having sex one more time and licked his lips. You noticed that look in his eyes
and immediately shook your head.
“Jin, no. Everyone should be awake by now” you said. He
kissed your neck and you smiled.
“Come on. They won’t care” he said into your neck. He began
nibbling on the skin and you considered giving in. Your eyes closed and you
sighed before turning your head. You kissed his lips and gently pushed him
“We can’t. Even if they don’t care, I do” you said. Jin
groaned in frustration and you smiled before kissing him again. You started
walking to his bedroom door and he followed behind.
Walking into the living room was like being thrown to the
wolves. Everyone looked at you two with hungry eyes, ready to tear you apart.
“I’m surprised that you two came out for air” Namjoon
commented, kicking off the teasing.
“Ah~ so annoying. How was I supposed to sleep with all of
that noise” Yoongi smiled. You smiled and Jin put his arm around you. This was
Taehyung started making creaking noises, imitating the
sounds of the bed and you could feel your face burning. Jimin started laughing,
his baby-like face showing just how much he was enjoying himself. Jin moved to
whisper in your ear.
“I’m so sorry about this” he said, almost laughing.
“Ah, ya! Ya! Stop, stop” Hoseok said, separating you two.
“Haven’t you done enough last night?” Hoseok asked. Taehyung,
with Jimin’s help, somehow transformed his creaking noises into a song.
Jungkook smiled and stood up on the couch. He threw his hands in the air and,
to the beat of the new song, yelled, “Hyung got laid!”.
“Okay, and that is our cue” Jin said. Namjoon, Yoongi, and
Hoseok started dancing with the rest of them as Jin turned you around. You
weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh or if you were too embarrassed. You opened
the front door and you both stepped out. Jin shut the door behind him and
rubbed his hands over his face. Even from outside of the dorm, you could hear
the boys singing and cheering for their new song.
“They are so embarrassing” he said, laughing.
“This is why we should have gone to my house” you said. Jin
pulled you to him and kissed you.
“Next time. How about tonight?” Jin asked.
“Wooooo!!! Jin’s gonna get laid again” Jungkook shouted from
behind the door. You couldn’t stop yourself this time, laughter spilling out.
Their singing picked back up and Jin tried to cover his smile.
Pairing : DeanxReader Words : 2,252 Author : Mel. Warnings : kink, adult breastfeeding, no smut. A/N : I read a thing the other day, and felt the urge to write a kink fic that was more fluff then smut. We write far too much smut haha.
Dean was sitting in a diner the first time
he saw her. He was focused on the pie, the best damn apple pie he’d had
in weeks. But when he saw her in his peripheral vision, she had his
attention. She was curvy, a bit short and long curly hair, jean shorts,
and a t-shirt cut to hang off her shoulder on one side. He watched her
place a box on the counter, and when it opened, it revealed more pies.
Here we are, back in the same fucking place we’ve been ending up, right in front of each other, yet farther away than ever. I can only see her, her trembling hands, her unapologetic eyes, her strength and her unwillingness to be here, but I can’t feel her the way I used to. I used to feel her warmth, her tranquility and unconditional love, even when her side of the bed was cold and untouched. I felt her when she loved me, when she gave me her all, when she was keeping me just as close as I was keeping her.
She stands tall, looking as beautiful as ever, one of my shirts hanging loosely off her shoulders. Damn, she looks just as beautiful as ever, with those beautiful eyes and those beautifully plump lips. Fuck, Why would she do this? Come back here like it wouldn’t effect me? Everything she did effected me, especially when she comes knocking on my door after weeks of our break up. We were doing so well before it happened, we were holding the whole world in our hands. We were it for each other, we had it all figured out, but I should have known something so good, something too good, had to have an ending. It wasn’t realistic for us to have something so good, it wasn’t possible.
Why did she have to end it?
“Why are you here?” I whisper. I can’t look her in the eye, because I’d lose the last bit of dignity I still have for myself.
“I know you didn’t come to apologize,” I mumble, “so why are you here?”
She sighs, taking a step toward me. I still can’t feel her when she does so.
“I haven’t seen you in weeks,” she says, “I wanted to check up on you. Nobody’s gotten in touch with you.”
“What a pity.” I sarcastically snarl, rolling my eyes at her comment.
Of course I know nobody’s gotten in touch with me, I haven’t been myself since she left. I couldn’t keep in touch with my surroundings, I couldn’t even keep in touch with myself. Answering phone calls was the last thing I wanted to do, especially when my throat was raw from our screaming and my throat was burned from my constant drinking. I didn’t want anybody to see me, not when I was at my worst, not when I had no idea what was going on with me.
“God dammit, Harry! Why the fuck do you always do that? Stop giving me an attitude when I’m genuinely fucking concerned about you!”
Y/n slams her palm against the frame of my door, looking away from me as she does so. I can see her flutter her eyes shut, ever so slightly, as if delicately pushing her emotions away. Her breath is shaky, each sounding like a broken cry ready to rip out from her insides.
“I’m so concerned for you. And I know after 4 years of being together and having it all come to an end is so fucking hard, and I know after this we can’t be friends, but God dammit, I still care for you. When the boys called me because nobody knows how you’ve been or how you’ve been holding up, I got so scared.”
She looks up at me again, her glossy eyes wandering around me. I show no emotion, I have no emotion. No matter what she says, nothing will change. It’s impossible for us to go back the way we were before, especially when all we did was fight. Some days we said nothing at all. Those were the worst, when I wanted so desperately to say something, but my throat closed in on itself, my tongue got stuck in the thickened air, and my teeth sunk into the flesh of spoken words.
“I didn’t want to hurt you, Harry.”
I see cobwebs between her teeth, flies flying out from her throat. She wanted to hurt me. We spent nights trying to get each other to crack, trying to win our battle. She meant to hurt me, if she didn’t, she’d show some mercy in me. She would have called me, texted me, come over and scream her shame on me. But I got nothing, nothing but a goodbye and endless nights alone.
But somewhere in her eyes, I see some sort of truth, hidden deep in her bright, glowing irises. I feel weak, beaten down, feel myself slipping back into her. I miss her, so much so that seeing her now, I want nothing but to feel her. Arms enclosed around me, nails sunken into my shoulders, lips mushed into mine. I want to feel her heart beat against my chest. I want to feel her love me like she used to.
“Why don’t you come in?” I mumble, stepping to the side to let her in.
She nods, stuffing her arms into her pockets before walking in. She looks around, inspecting the home she once shared with me.
“Everything’s different.” She whispers, gliding her fingertips across the coffee table.
I nod. “I rearranged a lot once you left. It felt really weird to be in the same house you wouldn’t be apart of anymore, you know? That may sound so fucking stupid, but I just felt like everything needed to be different than how it was.”
She nods slightly, still looking down at her hand, “Yeah, no, I get it, yeah.”
I look at her, back in the same place we’ve been ending up, right in front of each other, yet farther away than ever. Why did this happen? Why did something so beautiful end up being so destructive?
“No, Harry,” she says, “I know what you’re going to say, but I can’t go back to that place again, Harry, back to where we were. I can’t..”
“I know,” I sigh, groaning when I try to think of what to say, “but fuck, Y/n, can we at least end this right? We ended so fucking horrible, and I can’t sleep knowing we ended on such horrible terms. After 4 years, after 4 fucking years, don’t you think we deserve more than that?”
“I don’t know where you’re getting at..”
“Of course you know where I’m getting at, Y/n, don’t pull that shit on me.” I whisper.
I take short strides to her, unwilling to stop until I can feel her again. She looks at me in the most beautiful way in the world, I almost cry when I see it. I reach my hands out to her, tenderly cradling her face in the palms of my hands.
“If you won’t be mine tomorrow, can you at least love me tonight, for one last time?”
Her breath hitches in the back of her throat, and I can feel her melt in my hands. She looks into my eyes, taking her hands to the back of my neck, running her fingers along my hair. Before I can do anything more, she pushes my neck so that our lips meet halfway. I missed the taste of her, the taste of her strawberry lips that always seemed to be mixed with a pinch of wine. The taste of her lips reminded me so much of what used to be. I picture her sitting on the fresh cut grass in our local park, her floral dress falling mid thigh, leaning back on her elbows to soak up every bit of the summer sun. That’s when she first kissed me, she made the move, which was new for me, but fuck, it was so empowering, ironically.
I see her dancing in our kitchen, wine bottle in hand, just my flannel on, cooking pancakes on a Saturday morning. I see her sitting in the passenger seat, looking down at a map as she sang to Roman Holiday. I see her everywhere, I see every place we went, every memory we’ve had, and I can’t seem to pull away from it all.
“C’mon, Harry. C’mon.” She slurs against my lips.
I feel her taking my arms down, wrapping them around her waist. I immediately get the hint, lifting her up so that her legs wrap around my hips. I make my way up to my bedroom, which is completely effortless to me. I am so used to carrying her up these steps, it’s almost a habit of mine to do so.
I place her down on my bed once I make it up. Her hair is sprawled out against my pillows, and I find the biggest urgency to fist it all in my hands. I wasn’t going to, but then I remembered if I don’t do it now, I’ll never be able to do it again, so I grab all her hair and fist it in my hands, pulling it so that her head is thrown back, giving me easy access for her neck.
“Fucking hell.” She groans.
I suck on her collar bones, my teeth grazing the surface of her skin until I hear her hissing. I would normally stop, but I take it upon myself to bite down on her already sore mark. She grips my hair in her hands, lifting her back off the bed while moaning out a slight “fuck”.
“You’re mine” I growl, “and no matter what the hells happens to us, you’ll still be mine.”
She nods, pushing my hair back so that it doesn’t fall in front of my face. She said she does it because she likes to look at me when we make love. She said it made her feel special, the way I looked at her.
I slip my fingers underneath her, well, my shirt. It didn’t register just how fucking insulting it is for her to be wearing it at a time like this, when she stops by just to see if I’m alright before leaving me again. How degrading it is for her to stop by wearing something that’s mine when she doesn’t even want me anymore.
“You’re seriously wearing this when you’re about to walk out on me?” I ask, a hint of annoyance finding its way into my words.
“My fuck, Harry” she groans, “why can’t you just let me do goodman anything anymore?”
“It’s a shirt.” She spits, “Get it off of me if you don’t fucking like it.”
I didn’t find time to argue with her anymore, because I can feel my patience wearing thin, and I can see hers is, too. So before I find my way into making this into something bigger, I slip it off of her. My lips find their way in between her breasts, kissing down until her bra hits against my lips.
She obeys, arching her back so that I can unclip her bra. Her straps fall loosely against her shoulders, and I moan at the sight of her being nearly half naked in front of me. She never failed to intrigue me with her beauty, it was always so pure, and I always found something different within her to make her beauty even stronger than before.
I slide her bra off down her arms, leaving a trail of small goosebumps with each glide. Oh, how beautiful she looks like this, with her face full of impatience, her eyes glossy from the pleasure, her skin left in beautiful marks and trails of sensitive skin.
“Always will be the most beautiful girl I’ve seen.”
She smiles, humming softly at my words. Her fingertips run up my sides until my shirt is over my head, my chest now exposed to her, where she places her hand onto me, scraping her nails against me.
“Can you please make love to me already?”
The way she says those words unhinges something in me, a flick of fire igniting inside my chest. I can barely recognize myself when I push down her jeans and rip her thong off of her. I think the way she said it just made it more real, that this will be the last time I hear her speak those words, that I have no choice but to do as she says.
She sheds off my clothes as well, until we’re both naked, right against each other, where my hips are snapping against hers, where my tongue is her tongue, where my hands are her hands, where my love is her love. We become one, for what seems like the first time in decades. This is when I’m me, when she’s with me, both killing me but making me feel alive all at once.
Her moans are a symphony, a song of love and undoubtable pleasure. My name is the chorus, repeated with a couple of curses, which sounds nothing but beautiful to me.
“Oh fuck Harry, please, you need to go a little faster here.”
I snap my hips harder, faster, my fingernails stabbing into her sides, I nearly see blood being drawn. Her lips are on my neck, on my jaw, on my lips, everywhere her lips can reach and I can’t seem to let go of the back of her head to keep her there.
“FUCK!” We let out at the same time, our highs mixing together like we have, everything mixing to one.
The feeling makes me collapse, roll out and next to her, where her sweat rolls down her neck, falling to my fingertips. Our breaths swallow the room, there is nothing else that can be heard. It’s peaceful to me, it keeps me calm, it reminds me that she’s still here.
I can feel her this way.
She rolls onto her side, her cheek resting upon my chest, her hand intertwining with mine. I suddenly feel numb again, I somehow lost myself again. I feel her, I do, but I feel her leaving now, slipping sway from me like she had before, I’m not too sure if she’s still here or not.
Why does it have to be this way?
“This is it, huh?” I ask, starring off into my world of nothingness.
I feel her take in a sharp breath, her cheek running against my chest.
Dad snoring in his jeans and t-shirt atop the covers; the scratchy, starched sheets of the motel bed; the stale smell of the room; the feeling of one of his dad’s t-shirts hanging off his shoulders and tangling his legs together as he scrambled from beneath the covers, a wide smile stretching his face. The first thing he’d done was check on Sammy, just like Dad always told him to. The infant had been awake and gurgling to himself in the motel-rented crib.
“Merry Christmas, Sammy!”
And then crushing disappointment.
The smile had dropped from Dean’s pudgy little face like a stone, tears springing to green eyes as he frantically looked around the room. He’d known it was going to be different. He’d known Mommy wasn’t going to be there to bake cookies and make hot chocolate and kiss him good morning. He’d even known Santa probably wouldn’t give him his Mommy back from Heaven… but he never thought… he’d been sure that…
There was no tree, and no chimney, but he had to know. Mommy had said, she’d said that no matter where you lived, he’d always find a way. Dean had even given his list to Miss Violet to mail to him two towns back!
But there’d been nothing.
No presents. No decorations… even the crackers and water Dean had left on the table had gone untouched.
Imagine Tsukki in a loose, long sleeved shirt that hangs off one shoulder and some baggy sweatpants, sat at a piano with bare feet and a pencil tucked behind his ear as he hums to himself and presses a few keys whilst Yamaguchi sits on the floor, in one of Tsukki’s jumpers, leaning against the piano stool, his head resting against Tsukki’s thigh, reading a book as the sun sets through the window
I have that ‘I need to write something’ itch but nothing concrete or helpful for my current projects, so here’s some random college AU fluff.
Killian glanced up at the knock on his open door. “Swan, you know you don’t have to knock,” he told her, unable to stop the grin that always seemed to appear when she was around.
Emma scowled, holding out her laptop. “Yeah, but I feel like barging in here and demanding you fix my computer again is some kind of friendship abuse. I don’t know what’s wrong with it.”
He gestured to the futon. “Set it up, let’s have a look.”
He marked his page while she made herself comfortable; he tried not to focus on her ratty old Gryffindor pajama pants and the thick socks she wore because the heater in her room was on the fritz, or the too-large gray t-shirt sliding off one shoulder, or the way her hair was tied up in a messy bun with strands of hair falling out of it every which way. He definitely didn’t want to push her glasses back up on the bridge of her nose and he absolutely didn’t smile when she pulled the duvet down off his bunk and wrapped herself in it. “It’s cold,” she said defensively as she settled in her usual corner of the futon.
“Aye, well, that’s why they invented sweatshirts,” Killian said.
He didn’t mind. The duvet always smelled a little like her when she left.
It was late afternoon in the bustling street of a quiet downtown city. People were just getting off work or headed to a coffee shop with their friends or out for a walk. At first glance, it seemed to be a picture perfect scene. However, those that walk or drove by failed to look one way, down.
Curled against the red bricks of an apartment building was where Tony lay. He was dressed in a ratty, gray over sized T-shirt that hung off of one shoulder and black cargo pants that stopped just short of his ankles. He was barefoot and lay among what some people might qualify as trash. To Tony, it was all he had. A few plastic bags with various small things stuck in them, a plastic water bottle he filled up at a dirty dark water fountain, a razor with no blade, a couple napkins, a wool hat with a hole in it, a comb with several teeth missing and a few other broken, throw away things like that. It was clear to anyone who looked at him. Tony was homeless.
He lay against an old backpack that he used to keep some of his stuff in, a stained blanket covering his lower half. Laying in front of him was an old, gray-faced black Lab, his one companion on the streets. She just wandered up to him one day, laid down and never left. He named her Maya and she was his only source of comfort on cold nights alone.
Out in front of his little station was a plastic cup and a cardboard sign propped up that read, Homeless, Hungry. Any little bit helps. Unfortunately, most just walked on by Tony, not even seeing him as the day wore on and Tony slept.
okay so imagine you and fraternity vice president!Michael shared a dorm and one night, he comes home pissed off; leather jacket hanging off of one shoulder over his tattered Black Sabbath t-shirt, where he got it from that one concert he never seemed to shut up about. upon entering the air-conditioned dormitory, he dropped his bag to the floor, not caring about the spilt contents on the floor. the clatter startled you, making you go into the living room to see what was the matter, only to be met by a super tired michael.
you made your way over to him, sitting down on his lap and took the snapback off his head, making small mumbles of protest escape his lips. when he opened his eyes, you took the chance to ask him, “bad day at the frat house?” he slowly nodded and whispered, “some kid got drunk last night and vomited on the principal’s office door.” you cringed as you imagined the scene, michael obviously having to clean it up and deal with the consequences second-hand. michael, on the other hand, was getting better upon the sight of your outfit, his iconic fraternity jacket with just a pair of undies. putting his snapback on your head, you leaned back to see michael with a smirk on his face, both of you knowing what was going to happen next.
you slowly unzipped your (his?) jacket and opened it, showing michael that you had no bra on, making him groan not so subtly. his hands immediately came to your sides as he leaned into your ear and whispered, “you know what would be great right now? if you rode me on this couch in my snapback and jacket.”
You scamper down the staircase, hair falling wildly around your face. You glance down, taking in the loose way Ashton’s baseball tee clung to your chest. You took a breath, peering around the corner. There he was. Ashton Irwin. He was sitting in the living room. His living room. A cup of coffee steaming in front of him as he plucks a few chords on a guitar. His chest is bare and his wavy blonde hair is falling messily across his forehead. You peek further around the doorway, adjusting the baggy t-shirt on your shoulders. Letting it hang off one shoulder so you could tug it lower over your bare thighs. Another breath in and you step into the quiet room. Your cheeks feel flush and your heart is racing. What was he going to say? Would he pretend nothing happened? Would he blow you off?
Another breath in.
Ashton’s head popped up. A smile appearing instantly on his scruffy face.
“Hi,” you said breathily. Embarrassment was washing in on you. You gave him a soft smile, trying to hide the thoughts you knew he could read on your face. You’d spent all of last night making a complete ass of yourself, in front of Ashton. On Ashton’s lap…
In the back seat of a cab. And most definitely— at some point during your drunken night— you continued to throw yourself at him while in his bedroom, too. You couldn’t remember all the details through the hangover haze currently clouding your brain.
But you’ve had a crush on Ashton for as long as you could remember. But with the age difference between you, and your less than average body you never thought you’d ever have a chance with him. After all, he could have any girl he wanted, so why would he pick you?…
“G'morning,” he chirps happily, interrupting your self deprecating thoughts. His intoxicating golden gaze trailed lazily over your body. “Coffee?” He asks, still smiling and immediately rising from the sofa. Disappearing into the kitchen you follow after him.
“I uh, I can’t stay,” you say lamely, watching him move around the room. Watching the muscles in his back flex when he reached for a glass in one of the cupboards. “I umm, I just wanted to thank you,” you continued, “for, ah, for last night. You know, for taking care of me. For letting me crash here, in your bed, with you…” Your cheeks felt like they were on fire. You cleared your throat. “And for loaning me your shirt…” You finished meekly. You were tugging on the long sleeves, yanking them down over your fingers. Your eyes were focused on the soft stretchy fabric that still smelled so heavily of Ashton.
Ashton let out a warm laugh.
“Don’t worry about it, Y/N,” he replied kindly, turning to flash you another white smile. Studying you once again. Eyeing you thoughtfully, trying to ink this visual into his memory— you, wearing his t-shirt, your hair messy from his hands. “Was my pleasure,” he said smoothly, smirking as he filled a second mug with piping hot coffee. His accent made you shiver, remembering the way it sounded when he rasped your name in your ear while his body rutted against yours. He crossed the kitchen in seconds, placing the warm ceramic mug in your hands, drawing you from your daydreams. His eyes were twinkling. Overflowing with delight and amusement. You felt dizzy. Having him so close again was bringing back more waves of last night’s events. Of hands on skin, and lips on lips. Of shallow breathing and whispered moans of pleasure. Of moonlit shadows spilling over your naked bodies, your limbs getting tangled beneath his sheets.
Another deep breath and you took a sip of hot— delicious— coffee.
“Y/N,” Ashton said, still standing so close. His half naked body just an arms length away. “Last night was…” He paused. You swallowed, bracing yourself for whatever he might say. He pushed a hand lazily through his hair. “Perfect,” he finished, “last night was perfect.” He took the mug from your hands. Placing it with his on the stone countertop. He was smiling again, moving in closer. And then he was lifting, hoisting you onto the counter in from of him. His large palms slipped around your waist, cradling your back. He brought his forehead closer, and closer— His eyes still focused on you. And even closer, until you could feel his breath fanning across your cheek. His voice was quiet, but confident when he whispered in your ear.
“Perfect…” He said again, “You, are perfect.”
It was not one of the most comfortable clothes she had on but it was better than going around naked. The brunette tucked Alexander’s shirt into the pants he had given her. Thank god the shoes were a good size at least. She didn’t know where he got hem from, probably stolen from one of their raids. Anna walked out onto the deck, feeling the wind blow and throw her long hair around but she didn’t care. She could feel the warm breeze ggoing through the too-large for her shirt that was slipping off of one of her shoulders, revealing a fresh trail of hickeys the captain had placed on her neck and collarbone the preious night. She still didn’t enjoy their nights together quite as much as he would want her to, but at least she wasn’t dead-set on killing the man as soon as he touched her. He was her only guarantee of safety on a ship full of pirates.
The men of the crew gave her dirty looks but she just shrugged them off, walking towards the front of the ship. She leaned against the railing, looking down at the waves crashing against the sides of the ship as they swam. The woman then turned her head to where she knew Alexander was standing behind the wheel, steering the ship through the waves of the ocean. She couldn’t help but notice how the morning sun shined on him, making his dark hair glow in comparisen to his slightly tan skin, making his pale blue eyes stand out even more. Her green eyes then scanned down over his wide shoulders and toned body, blushing as she remembered how it felt to run her fingernails over those muscles.
You just know that Jim’s attempts at making Sherlock
breakfast in bed will end in disaster. Sherlock wakes from the smell of
something burning and the wailing of the smoke detector reverberating through
the flat. When he rushes into the kitchen, he finds Jim unsuccessfully
trying the fan the smoke away from the smoke detector with a newspaper, eggs
still burning in the frying pan.
Anything to make the infernal noise stop, Sherlock just
strides over and reaches up to rip the entire thing out of its socket. Turning back around, he sees Jim’s standing there fiddling with the spatula in his hands, his too big T-shirt hanging lopsided off
one shoulder and a sheepish grin on his face. “I wanted to make you breakfast,
but I got sidetracked thinking about… this equation I’m trying to solve.” Jim shrugs and a faint pink
hue appears in his cheeks.
And you know that Sherlock will try to hide how
endearing he finds Jim’s failed effort by snarking. “Thank you, but for he future I
would greatly appreciate if you avoided almost burning the entire flat to
the ground.” Jim rolls his eyes and makes a smart-ass comment in return, and a
childish verbal battle follows. As their tempers rise they forget
about breakfast all together, and Sherlock grabs a fistful of Jim’s shirt and
hauls him back into the bedroom.