six idiots oneshots & smut

wrong has never felt so right - william agar

some slutty smut on my favourite pathetic man, william agar. fan fictions of this man are SO scarce - what's wrong with you people ?! he's gorgeous. anyways, enjoy.

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Entering the house, a palpable chill hung in the air, as if the temperature within mirrored the frosty demeanor of its inhabitants. The ambiance echoed with a wintry stillness, leaving every room enveloped in an icy atmosphere that went beyond mere temperature—a coldness that seemed to seep into the very essence of the space, settling in the corners like an unspoken frost.

"Take a seat." You gestured to William, and he did so, setting his bag beside him on the floor. William's eyes followed you around the room, as you began to rearrange small things on the mantelpiece, paying attention to the details of your home.

Amidst the ebb and flow of the silence, William's inner thoughts wove a tapestry of admiration for you. A cascade of appreciation, like gentle whispers in the chambers of his mind, acknowledged the nuances of your presence—the way your elegance painted the room with warmth and how your grace seemed to defy the ordinary. Each unspoken word carried the weight of genuine admiration, creating a silent symphony of affection that only he could hear. His gaze, softened by an affectionate tenderness, lingered upon you with an unspoken language of love. In the quiet moments when your eyes meet, a warmth radiated from his expression.

"I attended an art exhibition today." You say while handling an ornament from the mantle piece, inspecting it as if you had no idea it existed. William looked up, hoping to be met with your eyes, but you still faced away from him.

"Oh..and how was that...?" As he spoke, an involuntary quiver danced within the cadence of his voice, betraying the vulnerability that sought refuge beneath his words. You finally turned around to meet his gaze, his head suddenly lowering down after a few moments, a clear blush creeping onto his face.

"It was...interesting. Such beauty captured within a canvas, it is truly an alchemy of skill and perception." You slowly walked over to where William was sitting, and sat beside him. His body immediately tensed up, his hands gripping his knees tightly, his knuckles turning white. He nodded as you spoke, carefully taking in all of your words, listening at the sound of your voice, so softly spoken and gentle, just the sound of it warmed his heart.

"Did you see anything in particular that caught your eye?" William inquired, hoping to keep the conversation with you going. He shifted in his seat slightly, starting to feel slightly more comfortable.

"I saw a beautiful painting. It depicted two young women, who were bathing in the female only part of the house." You tell him, a glimpse of discomfort in your voice.

"Were they?" William asks abruptly, his eyes widening at each of your words. It's clear the topic is making him uncomfortable, yet he longs to hear more.

"And the...nakedness of the two women coupled with an exquisite ability to convey the arid landscape of the middle east was...breathtaking..."

You leaned back in the seat, a picture of casual ease, your mood suddenly becoming more tranquil as the conversation progressed.

"It was while Henry and I were sitting, looking at this painting, that he..." Your words trail off, and William shifts slightly closer to you, silently asking for you to carry on.

"He...? What happened?"

"He touched me. He touched me...like this..."

In a fleeting encounter, your fingers brushed against the back of his hand with a delicate grace. The contact, gentle as a whispered secret, created a subtle connection, leaving a tingling trail of warmth in its wake. It was a fleeting caress, a quiet invitation to the intimacy of touch.